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Escape From Manitou Island: Part 88 |
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Shot Through The Heart CHARMIAN WAS SO tired that she barely remembered Stick-In-The-Dirt shaking her awake to eat with the rest of them at sunset, Manabozho's wolves having brought down a moose just as promised--she drowsed the whole time that Kenu droned on about how they never would have skinned and cut the animal up without his knife and his help. She didn't join in the rest of the chatter, instead dozing off where she sat; and the next thing she knew, it was dawn, and now Thomas was nudging her awake so they could be on their way. She yawned a little but woke up better now, not remembering any dreams but still feeling vaguely uneasy. The pains in her foot and neck were mostly gone, at least, so she joined in with their preparations for leaving, and soon enough they were on their way out of the woods. The stream that Mishupishu swam up continued parallel to the edge of the woods, so they strayed not too far away from it. Manabozho's wolves kept them company, trotting alone or in little groups all around them; although no longer as out of sorts as she'd been the night before, Charmian still gnawed on her lip and fiddled with her pack straps as they went. She couldn't help but keep glancing back at the now-vanished shore of Lake Superior, always sighing after she did so. Thomas furrowed his brow at her, keeping pace. "What is it?" he asked. "You haven't been your usual self all morning." "I can't help but keep wondering where we're going to find this Weaver tunnel and how," Charmian sighed. "It's supposed to be not too far from the lake--so where? And what if we're going too far? The shore of this lake goes on forever." His mouth twitched. "Well--not quite forever. How about this--we split up a little bit, and try poking around in the best location for this tunnel. How does that sound? At least we'd get more done faster." Charmian still chewed on her lip. "I don't know...I don't like us splitting up." Thomas rolled his eyes. "Maybe if we were only a few, but, take a look! There's a whole bunch of us. I think we could hold our own well enough. Especially with all these wolves keeping a close eye on things!" "I guess we would find Kabebonikka faster," Charmian murmured. She glanced toward the stream. "Mishu could even look along the stream for a tunnel! And Kwemoo and Maang can fly around." Thomas nodded smartly. "Now there's the Charmian I know! I'll get everybody's attention--then we can work this out. We needn't even go far yet. Just to get a general impression of the place." He gathered the others into one big group, and all agreed that splitting up for a bit could only help things; although Charmian didn't quite like the thought, they divided into smaller groups, and she ended up with Mani, Stick-In-The-Dirt, and Niskigwun, heading the straightest northward of the different groups. The day was gloomy and misty, and it wasn't long before Charmian's sour humor began to return; she scowled a little as they tramped, but didn't bother complaining. Her head hurt now as well as her neck, and she wondered if it was going to rain. She'd never gotten headaches from rain before. "And so we have nothing to go on, other than knowing that this tunnel is supposedly somewhere not far from the northern shore," Niskigwun mused aloud. Stick-In-The-Dirt shrugged a little, rubbing at his arms; apparently Thomas's prediction had been right, as the temperature seemed to have dropped at least ten degrees since the day before. "This is all. He is supposed to live on a mountain?" "There are no mountains here," Niskigwun replied. "So it very well must be a tunnel we seek! If we ever wish to get there. I do wish this East Wind had been more helpful." "Kabebonikka wasn't exactly hospitable to him either," Charmian murmured, and they looked at her, then looked away. She stared at the ground as they went. "Well," Niskigwun said after a while, "at least a Lynx can hardly come after us here." He shuffled his wings and adjusted his quiver, then frowned a little and tilted his head back. "Do any of you smell anything...?" Charmian and Stick-In-The-Dirt both sniffed. "Not me," Charmian said, but Mani whistled and shook his antlers, drawing their attention. Been smelling it for a good dozen paces or more now. Coming from way ahead--fire smoke? "Fire...?" They sniffed again. Charmian now thought that she could detect a faint hint of woodsmoke, but wasn't certain. "Who would be burning something way out here?" she asked with a frown. "And on a crappy day like this?" "I suppose your people prefer to burn things when it is parched and windy," Niskigwun said dryly. Charmian shot him a look. "Ha ha. Ow!" She made a face when Stick-In-The-Dirt grasped her wrist. "What the heck is it?" Mani whistled again. Look! Ahead! They turned to look. At first Charmian stiffened, fearing that some body of water lay ahead and a Mishupishu was about to attack them after all, despite Niskigwun's reassurances; then she blinked, realizing that there was no water nearby--at least, not ahead of them, where only land could be. Something else long and black snaked up into the sky, winding from side to side like a Lynx's neck, and they had to stare at it for a moment or two before understanding what it was. Charmian's brow furrowed. "Is that smoke--?" "Something's burning," Stick-In-The-Dirt said, needlessly; and they all immediately picked up pace, jogging in the direction of the plume. Even through her jarring vision Charmian was able eventually to start making out more details--other, smaller plumes of smoke, and something black and tattered all over the ground. Her heart fluttered with anxiety as the scene grew larger before them. It was pretty safe to say that it wasn't the remains of a campfire, at least. They began to slow their step as they drew up toward it, until they halted completely, staring at the scene with wide eyes. What looked to have been a camp stood here...or once had, at least, as there was very little of it left by now. The wigwams were demolished, and nothing remained to show that they'd been there but for a few blackened pieces of their lodge poles, and piles of ashes that must have been their bark coverings at one point. Smoke still arose ghostlike from the ashen ground, numerous footprints pressed into the disturbed soil; but what was oddest was the fact that one building was still standing, nearly intact among the pathetic remains of the camp. The greatest plume of smoke in fact arose from this building, although it didn't appear to be on fire. They all stared at it, confused. "A Mide lodge?" Charmian asked, brow furrowing. Niskigwun peered around them somewhat uneasily. "How is it that this place remains standing while everything else is in cinders...?" Mani whistled. And where is everyone? "Perhaps...perhaps they fled into the lodge, and whoever did this let them be," Stick-In-The-Dirt suggested lamely, fiddling with his necklaces. Charmian chewed her lip. "I guess it's possible...but I really hate the thought that whoever DID this could still be hanging out anywhere nearby!" At this comment, they all tensed, then began looking around themselves. There was nothing to be seen but the charred camp, but they remained on edge anyway. "I will go and look around the rest of the camp and the nearby woods," Niskigwun offered at last. "Just to make certain that no one with ill intent is nearby." Will look as well, Mani whistled, and they turned and trotted off to opposite sides of the camp, inspecting the pathetic rubble. Charmian and Stick-In-The-Dirt looked at each other, then at the lodge, and rubbed their necks in unison. "Well..." Charmian said. "I guess it can't hurt too much to take a peek. Maybe somebody's injured." Stick-In-The-Dirt said nothing, instead chewing on his lip; she started walking tentatively toward the lodge and halted not far from the entry. "Hello?" she called out, craning her neck, but hearing no response. "Maybe they're passed out...? Hello." She knocked on the doorframe. "Anybody in there? Anybody hurt?" Stick-In-The-Dirt took a step forward now. "What if whoever did all this is inside--?" he asked with some anxiety. Charmian frowned. "I figured you guys just respected the Mide lodge." He blinked, then his face went red. "What makes you say it was one of us?" "Hello?" Charmian called again, and poked her hand under the doorflap, pulling it up a little. She peered inside and could see a fire burning, but nothing else. "Anybody home?" She pulled the blanket up and put her foot inside, stepping over the threshold. "Hello--?" Fwip. Something struck her in the chest, and she blinked before doubling over with a surprised "OWW!" She clasped her hands to her chest as she sank in the doorway, certain that she'd find a dart or an arrow or something there, but her hands met nothing but her necklaces and vest; still, whatever that was had stung! Even as she knelt on the floor, Stick-In-The-Dirt yanked the blanket up and stuck his head in himself, eyes wide. He hopped inside and crouched down beside her to grasp her arm. "Charmian--? Are you--" He cut himself off abruptly, and she tensed when she sensed a shadow moving ahead of them. They both lifted their heads to see something standing up in the far end of the lodge and coming their way. It passed the fire and was cast into silhouette briefly before the light from the half-covered doorway shone on its face, and Charmian saw that it was human--at least, he looked like it. It was an old man, stocky and with long gray hair in braids, feathers and horns adorning his head; as soon as he saw them he frowned, the lines in his face deepening. Charmian squinched her eyes shut and pressed her hand back to her chest. "What are you trying to do, kill me?!" she yelled. Stick-In-The-Dirt still seemed confused. "Are--are you all right--?" "No, I'm not!" Charmian snapped. "He just SHOT me or something!! SHOT ME!" She lifted her head to give the man a venomous look. "What did you SHOOT me for?!" "Shoot--?" Stick-In-The-Dirt furrowed his brow, then started casting about on the floor. He paused when his hand touched something, and he picked it up between his fingers; Charmian couldn't see what it was at first, but his eyes went as wide as saucers, and all of the blood drained from his face. His mouth fell open and he started letting out an odd panicky sound. "Stick--?" Charmian asked, blinking at him. She glared at the old man again. "This is how you treat people just coming to say HELLO--?" "You're not who was supposed to come in," the old man said, as if just realizing this. Charmian ground her teeth. "Duh!" She started rubbing her chest furiously. "What's the big idea, shooting visitors--? What the hell was that, a BB gun--?" She started clambering to her feet, only to see that he held nothing in his hands but a fur pouch. She furrowed her brow and looked around for the gun but couldn't see one--in fact, the furnishings looked exactly like those she would find in Stick-In-The-Dirt's camp, and she knew that unless they traded with the townspeople, they never had guns. She glanced at him again but the look that he gave her was just as perplexed. Stick-In-The-Dirt stood up, arms shaking as he stared at the little object he'd picked up. Charmian turned her head to look at it and her confusion grew as soon as she saw the tiny shell that he held. She gasped and patted at her necklaces, but Yellow Turtle's shell was still there. She glanced at it again, unable to figure out what was going on. "Stick--?" she asked. "Where did that come from--?" In response he glanced at her himself, eyes wide, then back at the shell. Then up at the old man. Then he started shifting from foot to foot as if he had to go out in the woods. "Eeeeennnnggggghh!!" he said, and the other two both furrowed their brows, this time. When Charmian gave him a confused look he held the shell up and now started hopping from foot to foot. "A Megis!!" he exclaimed, his voice cracking. "He shot you with a MEGIS!" He turned back to the old man and flung up his hands. "Have you any idea how FOOLISH that could have been--?!" The old man just pursed his lips. "How was I to know she would be the next one to come in the door?" "Huh?" Charmian asked, bewildered. Stick-In-The-Dirt showed her the shell again, still hopping. "You are not SUPPOSED to be shot with this! Not YET! It's DANGEROUS!" "It's a shell," Charmian said, feeling rather stupid to have to say so. "Not a bullet." He shook his head adamantly. "It's a MEGIS shell!!" He clasped it in his fist and forced himself to stop hopping and take a breath, then let it out. "The Midewiwin initiation ceremony," he explained, his words quick. "Part of this involves the shooting with the Megis shell. I told you this before! Learn to listen! The initiate is shot with a shell and passes to the Spirit Road, and then is brought back to life and healed, as a member of the Mide Lodge!" "HUH?" Charmian blurted out, jaw dropping. She clenched her own fists. "No way in HELL am I going back to the Spirit Road!!" "You're not an initiate yet--only an invitee!!" Stick-In-The-Dirt retorted, and turned back to the old man with the pouch. "How could you?! You could have killed her with this! I would expect MORE from an old man! How could you do something so--so--NEGLIGENT?!" The old man crossed his arms, a sour look settling on his face. "And how could SHE do something so negligent as step right into a waiting Mide lodge! What was I expected to do, throw feathers at her--?" "You mean you thought I was an initiate?" Charmian said, still confused, but beginning to understand, just a little. She took a step forward and pointed at the fur pouch. "You shot me with that?" He glanced down at the pouch, then lifted it. She saw that it appeared to be made out of an otter's skin. "That's normally what one uses these for. Seeing as I've been answering your questions, might you tell me why you stepped into the lodge if you didn't want to be shot--?" Charmian's mouth opened--it was certainly one of the weirdest questions she'd been asked--but Stick-In-The-Dirt spoke up before she could. "Have you been holed up in here forever?" he demanded. "Take a look outside! The entire CAMP is destroyed and missing! We saw smoke and had to come and see who might be left! And now you ask why we're here?!" Charmian reached out to squeeze his wrist so that he stopped yelling, and he gritted his teeth but fell silent. "You mean you didn't mean to kill me or anything with that?" she asked. The old man pursed his lips again. "Well...in one sense I did...but not with any harmful intent, mind you." Charmian gnawed her lip; "Good enough," she said finally, and let Stick-In-The-Dirt go. "We were looking around and saw this camp all ruined, so we thought maybe we'd look for survivors!" "You found him," the old man said. They stood there staring at him. "You're the only one?" Charmian asked. "The only one left," the old man replied. When that resulted in nothing but stares, he shrugged. "The others ran off well before everything burned down. I stayed behind." "Why?" Stick-In-The-Dirt asked, baffled. The old man shoved the otterskin bag under his arm. "You mean to tell me you would run off and let the lodge burn?" The medicine man blushed a little. "You mean you were here when everything happened," Charmian said, and received a nod. "Well--what DID happen, then? Because we were sure it was some sort of slaughter or something!" "Close," the old man said. "At least, if everybody hadn't run off first, it could have been." "Who attacked all of you?" Stick-In-The-Dirt asked. Another shrug, then a shake of the head; the old man turned, waving at them to follow, and they glanced at each other before obeying. He started toward the back of the lodge. "In these days, could've been anyone. A great bunch of them...all dressed in black furs. Wearing horns rather like mine--" here he pointed at his forehead "--only not quite so stately, mind you. Just came out of the woods last night, tossing fire at the wigwams and driving everybody out. Like they had some sort of argument with us--total strangers." "Fire--?" Charmian tensed, feeling uneasy again; she averted her eyes when the old man frowned at her. "When you say tossing fire, do you mean tossing torches, or hurling fireballs--?" she asked, not sure if she wanted to know the answer or not. The old man now slowly turned back around. "So you've had a run-in with them too, huh," he said, not even phrasing it as a question. Charmian shook her head. "Only with two of them. But I hardly think this is a coincidence!" A glance at Stick-In-The-Dirt. "We had one threaten to come after us as soon as we touched shore!" "So you come from the south of here?" the old man said, raising his eyebrows; when they nodded he looked thoughtful. "Hm. This might explain a few things." He sat down near the back of the lodge; the other two waited for a moment, then followed suit, seeing as he didn't seem ready to get up again and leave or anything. "Explain what?" Charmian pressed, ignoring Stick-In-The-Dirt's warning glance. "I've already explained more than enough first off," the old man said. "I rather think you two should explain a bit now." Charmian ground her teeth, but Stick-In-The-Dirt scootched himself forward and began speaking before she could. "We come from the Island of the Great Turtle, to the south. A manitou has been threatening to destroy the Island if we don't attempt to find the West Wind for him to battle with. He's taken a little girl hostage, and we were attempting to find our way to them." "You're going rather in the wrong direction," the old man said. Charmian rolled her eyes. "We're going in a circle! South, east, north, WEST! It seems Kabeyun's the frigging hardest Wind to find!" "Perhaps this is because he dislikes humans," the old man suggested. "I thought Kabebonikka didn't like them either," Charmian said, perplexed. The old man rolled his eyes now. "The Wintermaker likes to play with them. On looking at you, and hearing you speak," he said to Stick-In-The-Dirt, "I had you figured for a Mide--and yet you seem so woefully ignorant of things right now." Stick-In-The-Dirt blanched. "I'll have you know that he could teach you some songs sung by SPIDERS," Charmian said loftily, and finally the old man raised an eyebrow as if interested. "But first we'd like to know what exactly's going on around here!" "Perhaps names are in order," the old man said. Charmian sighed. "He's Stick-In-The-Dirt...I'm Charmian." "Char-mee-un?" The old man pursed his lips yet again. "Strange name." He pulled his robes around himself and got more comfortable. "Cutfoot. You happened to come at a bad time. Normally this is a decent camp...but apparently, it's a gone one now." Duh, Charmian thought. "As I had said, these strangers in black furs came in and laid waste to all you see here. They didn't bother addressing us. But they came from the east, and I rather get the impression they were looking for something." "Looking?" Charmian asked, with a small frown. Cutfoot nodded. "They never said what." He tilted his head. "You never explained what the fire-jugglers you met had to do with your search." "This is because we're not quite sure," Stick-In-The-Dirt replied. "We think they work for this manitou we seek...but as for why..." "A wabano named Old Man Mishosha," Charmian said. "And another wabano, and a Bearwalker, and some nasty manitous and Lynxes. Know anything about them?" "All in these parts have heard of Mishosha," Cutfoot replied. "In fact now that you mention him, I rather wonder if he was not involved in all that happened here. But working for another manitou? I always considered this beneath him. He is so full of himself that I find this hard to believe, him taking orders from another." "I can't think of why else he'd come after us," Charmian said. "He was pretty persistent. He left us alone only on the lake. As soon as we hit shore, the Lynxes and mitchi manitous came right after us." The old man stared at her for a moment or two, so intensely that she began to squirm. "Those strangers who attacked us had mitchi manitous in their company," he said, after a pause. Stick-In-The-Dirt stiffened, then glanced at Charmian. "They came from this direction! What if what they were looking for was us?" "Or maybe they thought we'd stop here first?" Charmian said. She shivered. "I hate how they keep going after everyone AROUND us! Maybe if they'd just waited, those wolves would've given them what for!" "I doubt it," Cutfoot said. "Mishosha is like a dog pissing on bushes...everything around here belongs to him, in his mind. After all, I do suppose he has every reason to be protective of that island of his." Charmian opened her mouth to ask what that meant, but again Stick-In-The-Dirt interrupted. "Perhaps you could assist us in finding something else we seek, to get to Kabebonikka. It's a tunnel, made by the same creatures who taught me the Mide songs--I could trade them in exchange for this information, if need be." "Spider Mide songs...?" Cutfoot said skeptically. "The real deal," Charmian said. "If you can point out these tunnels!" "I know nothing about tunnels," Cutfoot replied. He shrugged. "Apologies." Charmian ran her hands down her face and let out a frustrated noise. "FINE." She stood up, waving at Stick-In-The-Dirt; he looked stricken, but said nothing. "Come on! Maybe Mani or Niskigwun had more luck. Cripes, it'd probably take less time just to walk to Megissogwun--" "Megissogwun?" Cutfoot said sharply, just as she turned around. She froze in her tracks, then slowly turned back to face him. Stick-In-The-Dirt was looking at the old man as well, brow furrowed. Charmian took pause at the look in his eyes; he was staring at her as if she'd just said a bad word, and she nearly felt like shrinking in on herself. "Yeah," she said, frowning. "That's the manitou who's bothering us!" Cutfoot stared at her for a moment, then glanced at Stick-In-The-Dirt. Then back at her. "You said you had friends waiting out there--?" "Two of them." Stick-In-The-Dirt fidgeted. "Why?" "One of you might consider telling them to wait," Cutfoot said, and sat back and crossed his arms. "Because I seriously think you need to know what you're facing!" |