Page 67 of Trapped: Between Sky And Wind

Nashashuk looks at me with his old wise eyes, fully awake and lucid.

“I fell out of the dream before I actually spoke to him,” I say, choking. I just can’t let go of Bren’s hand. “It wasn’t enough.”

The herbal vapors rise steadily from the clay bowl and the Navapaki fans it in all directions. “You told him the most important thing, otherwise, you wouldn’t be here already. Listening is not always done with the ears just as speaking is not always done with words.”

I just shake my head, crying. “What just happened?”

Nashashuk has turned away again. Maybe he doesn’t answer questions from white girls as a matter of principle, but this time I don’t give up. “Did I see the future? What was that?”

Nashashuk mumbles something under his breath, puts his tambourine back in the trunk, and pulls out new dried herbs. He carefully scatters them over the others and a column of smoke rises like a flame. “A dream,” he finally says.

“So, it didn’t mean anything?” I ask, stunned, feeling anger and hopelessness surging inside me.

The shaman looks at me intently, and for the first time, I notice the resemblance to Darrow beneath his wrinkles. “Everything is a dream for the Navapaki. Dream and reality are one, there is no separation. Now light the herbs and guard your friend. He needs you.”

With that, he gets up and walks to the exit with the agility of a young warrior. He looks so content as if he knows the ritual was successful.

“Dream and reality are one, of course!” I murmur to myself, lighting the herbs, when he turns and shakes his head reprovingly as if he heard my grumbling.

Hard of hearing, my ass!

“The shadows chasing him, are they gone now?” I ask quickly.

Nashashuk turns back to me. “Such shadows only disappear when you confront them.”

The moment he steps out of the tent, I hear Bren.

“Lou?” His voice is perfectly clear. “I… I had a strange dream.”

With a choked cry, I turn to face him from my seated position. And sure enough, he’s lying there with his eyes open, staring at me.

I can’t help but bend down and hug him so hard, he groans in pain.

“My ribs… Lou…are you trying to kill me?”

I laugh and cry at the same time, unable to reply. I quickly examine his wound and can’t believe it. The red line has receded by at least three centimeters!

Now I’m crying uncontrollably from happiness and I can’t stop touching him. And there is a completely different memory inside me. Me and Bren at the Seattle Plaza when we were wondering what was real. The city or the wilderness. Bren said only the wilderness was real, yet the Navapaki believe everything is a dream. City and wilderness. Life, death, dreams. Dreams within dreams. Bren and I.

And one day, Fynn. It means bright one.

Chapter

Sixteen

Amarok hasn’t stopped placing bowls of fruit in front of the teepee, which is officially ours for the time being. Three days have passed since the healing ritual and Bren’s fever has finally dropped.

“How is he trying to impress you this time?” He sits upright on a mat of willow branches as I step inside through the tent opening.

“Currants.” The size of hazelnuts.

Bren frowns in displeasure. “I don’t like the way he’s courting you.”

“It’s only fruit, Bren. You owe your life to Amarok… Besides, it’s also possible this fruit is for both of us. Ever thought of that?”

He’s silent and I know it’s the fact that he owes his life to Amarok that bothers him the most, besides the fact that he’s so beat up, he can barely walk half a mile. Every time he takes a breath, I can see how hard it is for him with his broken ribs.

Now, however, he gets up, puts his finger to his lips, and walks toward the tent entrance. “I bet he’s still out there watching your shadow through the tarp.”

---