This is just a piece of the prologue of my second book THE HEALERS Just to tease you into checking it out. haha IN THE SUMMER OF 1891, a young Native American woman walked quietly along a needle-strewn path through the forest of the Black Hills. Her mind was lost in contemplation, occupied by thoughts of what was to come. As she rounded a bend in the trail along the base of a tall bluff, a large black bear standing on the path ahead of her quickly ended her reverie and brought her to an abrupt stop. Smiling, she wished her woodland brother a good morning. The behemoth ambled slowly to within arm’s length of her and looked up into the woman’s face. After a short pause he raised his great head higher, pointing his nose to the sky before bringing it down in a long slow arc to touch the trail in front of her. He remained in that position until the woman, unafraid, stepped closer and laid her hand atop its large head; her caress assured it she would be safe. Only then did the bear lift its face. With some reservation, it carefully leaned its hulking body forward, stretching to touch her abdomen with its nose. It hesitated there for several seconds, indenting the woman’s flesh with only an ounce of its five hundred pounds. When its curiosity was sated, it backed away a few steps before cautiously wandering back into the woods. The woman resumed her purpose, subtly aware of the bruin walking a wide protective circle around her. Pausing when she neared the end of the path, she looked upward and watched the dark Ursus climb the brush-choked bluff beside her. She lost sight of it for a short time when it disappeared behind a column of weatherworn limestone, but spotted it again as it leaped onto a shelf of reddish rock that protruded conspicuously from the rest of the light brown monolith. It laid its great body upon the shelf and glanced at the young woman far below before shifting its gaze to the activity going on in the meadow ahead of her where the two trails intersected. The young woman continued down the path. Presently, she came to the edge of the clearing. Stepping into the copse of trees ahead of her, she made her way toward the meadow where a small group assembled around the arena where the dancers would perform. This ragged group of plains Indians, some who had survived the Wounded Knee massacre seven months earlier, had once again sneaked away to gather here within the heart of Paha Sapa. They were determined to perform the ceremonies they believed would save their race from annihilation. As the young woman approached, all eyes turned toward her. The group parted, allowing the young woman to step through the eastern opening between the logs circumscribing the arena. From her arm she took four wreaths of flowers whose petals matched the blue of the sky, and carefully began to place them around the base of the young cottonwood tree that had been erected where the two trails converged. Each wreath graced one of the four major directions. A hush settled over the people as they watched the young woman complete her task; they could plainly see she was heavy with child when she placed each wreath upon the ground. When she awkwardly stood tall and lifted her face toward the clouds, all eyes turned upward. Even the cavorting children stopped to pay homage. The faces of the people respectfully remained raised until she finished reciting her simple prayer to the Great Spirit. Then they watched her quietly retrace her steps to the edge of the forest where she stood quiet and proud, her arms folded over her distended abdomen Although it was not polite to stare directly at someone, many in the crowd couldn’t help themselves. For despite the prominent scar that ran diagonally across her nose to the bottom of her left cheek, this woman seemed to radiate a spirit of gentleness, a comfort sorely needed in this time of great sorrow. A comfort that had not been felt since their way of life had been upended with the slaughter of the buffalo and the massacre of their people. Later, around the campfires of the villagers it would be whispered by one that they sensed an unusual strength in the young woman, another would say confidence, and some would say perseverance. Those more astute would say they glimpsed hope for all humankind in her eyes.
Posted on: Mon, 28 Oct 2013 15:54:08 +0000
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