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About Tehuti
I am an amateur writer of novels, serials, and novellas. Most of my work is in the genres of fantasy, mythology, drama, occult, GLBT, and erotica.
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My interests are Ojibwa mythology, Mackinac Island, Egyptian mythology, Jungian symbolism and dream interpretation, ritual crime, fantasy writing, and various other things you can find in my personal bio, available just to the right. Please click to learn more about me and what I'm looking for in terms of readers and potential friends.
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Tar! :) |
Part 12: Signs Main story folder & table of contents: "Escape From Manitou Island" 
Previous chapter: "Part 11: Down Under"
PART TWELVE:
Signs
TOK--TOK--TOK--tok.
His brow furrowed ever so slightly as he started drifting up out of blackness. The odd noise--tok--tok--tok--continued unabated, somewhere distant. His foggy brain tried to make head or tail of it, without much success. As he dredged through everything that he vaguely remembered, the noise applied itself to his hazy memories, shifting from one to another, as adaptable as a chameleon's skin.
Water lapping against the sides of a canoe...
Feet thudding against the ground...
A ball hit by a racquet...
Alarm lit through him and his eyes shot open. He found himself staring at odd crossbeams, the tiniest bits of light just barely peeking through. This wasn't a canoe, it was--
He sat up abruptly, a searing flare of pain biting through his shoulder. He glanced from left to right and found himself staring at bare walls of wooden posts and bark. He glanced down next at what was covering him and found that it was a reed mat, upon a pallet of cedar boughs. He glanced up finally at the wall to his left and saw something he hadn't noticed before, odd little drawings made in charcoal. Otter, lynx, bear, turtle. His head started swimming as he stared at them.
They--they captured me--!
But I was away from there--!
A snorting noise made his head whirl around. He spotted at last the shady figure crouching by the far wall, its fingernails making the tokking noise he'd heard before; its yellow eyes lit on his, its nose wrinkling as if he smelled bad.
A second later a shrill scream tore through the lodge, and the doorflap was yanked aside as he stumbled out of it, eyes goggling and free hand clutching at his wound. He tripped on the threshold and fell on his elbows; he lifted his head with a sputter and saw the wigwams surrounding him, smoke rising from one or two, a firepit in the middle of the camp, paintings and patterns on the outsides of the buildings, simple picture-drawings of people's names. His wide eyes scoured the entire clearing in dread. Wigwam. Wigwam. Wigwam.
He glanced ahead and saw the remains of the fire still smoldering just before him, then let out a strangled sound and propelled himself back toward the lodge, thumping against its side.
A cooking fire--!!
"You're awake!"
He let out another yell and again ran into the lodge, wincing. He blinked and saw a young girl standing before him, her head tilted to the side. His eyes roamed her up and down.
Deerskin dress.
Moccasins.
Braids.
White hair--?
The girl took a step toward him, and he would have cringed back, had he been able. As it was all he could do was wince again and press a hand to his throbbing shoulder. "I thought maybe you wouldn't wake up!" the girl said, in perfect English; she didn't have even an accent. He stared at her, stunned. Surely with that white hair--she wasn't completely...?
"Where am I?" he asked, his voice harsh and grating.
She tilted her head the other way with a small frown. "In the camp," she answered.
"Camp?" he echoed, a bite to his voice. The girl flinched a bit, then fiddled her fingers.
"Well...yes," she said, as if trying to choose her words carefully; she gave him a very strange look. "On the bluff!" she added, as if that would help any; then, "You were floating in a canoe! Hurt really bad! Is your shoulder doing any better--?"
He was already pulling open the flap and crawling back inside. The girl took a step forward before the flap fell shut, and he started scrabbling at the cedar boughs, sweeping them aside almost frantically. The thing with the yellow eyes kept watch on him the entire time, but he tried his best to ignore it--at least it wasn't attacking him yet, and by now he felt it was likely just a hallucination his fevered mind had thought up. He tore the pallet apart, finding only his hat; he shoved it under his good arm and kept patting at the floor, then moved to feel alongside the wall, chewing furiously on his lip.
The girl peeped into the lodge, looking puzzled. "What're you looking for?" she asked, innocently enough; he halted in his searching, glancing at her, then noticing her white hair again. Surely, with looks like that, she had a little white blood in her. He turned around and she gasped and nearly pulled her head back out, but he made no move to approach, instead gesturing at the ruined pallet.
"My gun," he snapped. "Where is it?"
"Gun...?" The look she gave him was remarkably blank; he ground his teeth. EVERYONE knew what a gun was! Yet she seemed not to be sure. She stood thoughtfully for a moment, then blinked at him.
"You mean that big funny stick thing--?" she inquired.
He nodded his head forcefully. "Yes, the big funny stick thing! Where is it? Who took it?"
She cheerily turned away from the tent flap. "I know where it is! I'll go get it! Then we can talk, oh-kay?" She vanished from sight and he was left where he was, gasping for breath and wondering how exactly things had gone so very wrong.
He looked down at his shoulder, touching the bandages wrapped around it. They had tended to him...? Just so they could kill him? His eyes grew dark as his memories continued sifting back, and his fingers curled in on themselves.
It was only a game...the ball...am I the only one left then...?
I got out of there just to end up here...?
Tramping noises made him lift his head. The yellow-eyed thing peered toward the entrance just as the flap went up again, and the white-haired girl popped in, carrying the gigantic gun as if it were as light as a feather. His eyes goggled, seeing her carrying it like that; he grabbed it away from her before she could even stop, and she blinked and stared at her empty hands before looking back up at him. She blinked again as soon as she saw the barrel pointed right between her eyes.
"Again," he said, his voice grinding like rocks, yet somewhat steadier now, "where am I?"
The girl just stared at the gun for a moment, an uncertain look on her face. After a moment her eyes lit up and she smiled.
"Oh! I get it! It's a game--right?" She put her finger in the end of the barrel and beamed at him. "What do I do?"
This time he blinked. "What--? You foolish little BRAT! Don't you know what a gun is?" He yanked the gun away, and she stumbled back. He bared his teeth at her and lifted the weapon again, pointing it at her yet keeping his distance. "Tell me where the bloody hell I am!"
Her smile vanished. "Well--you don't have to be so rude!" she retorted. "And I already TOLD you where you are! The camp!"
He felt like tearing his hair out. "WHAT camp?!"
"OUR camp!" Then, "The Island!"
He clenched his fist and nearly snarled, his nerves were fraying so badly. Without another word he stormed past her and out of the lodge, standing up with a wince and glancing around the camp. Here and there, he saw a woman or an elderly man or a child going about doing their things, and they glanced back at him yet other than that paid him little attention. Maybe the rest of them were away. Maybe he had a chance after all. That fire looked like it hadn't been tended to in a bit...
"Hey!" He flinched when the girl came out after him, looking affronted. "You're not supposed to leave! You could get in trouble!"
He ignored her and started walking for the nearest trail out of the clearing. "Hold on!" the girl cried, jogging after him. "You're not supposed to leave!" He started jogging now, and her voice faded as he left her behind. "Wait...!"
His feet thudded against the packed earth and he glanced from left to right, praying that he would be the only one on the path at this time of the day. As he jogged he thought he saw signs of a cabin back in the woods, and started to slow down, but as soon as he saw the woman out front dressing skins he continued on his way. His shoulder felt like it was on fire--had they put something on it?--but he bit down the pain and tried to figure out where he was.
The island--? I went that far? All the way across the water? Am I surrounded by them now--? How do I get out of here? Will there be many of them on the shore--?
He decided that facing a few of them on the shore would probably be better than facing a lot of them in their own camp. Perhaps there would be some friendly trappers near the shore. He clutched his gun and prayed that he would at least be able to take a few of them out before they got him, for all that they'd done on the mainland...
A game! It was just a game!
I'm the only one left...!
His fingers dug into the metal. The trail began to curve and he vaguely recognized his surroundings--he'd paddled out to the island a few times, when there had been nothing better to do, and so he knew its basic terrain--he'd never known of there being a camp set so deep in the woods, but then again, by now nothing should have surprised him...
He crested the hill that the path led up and took exactly two more stumbling steps forward before jerking to a halt, his gun nearly falling, his eyes goggling just as they had before. He caught his first sight of the shore camp below and all of his breath left him.
That's...that's not a camp...
That's a TOWN...!
This wasn't the shore camp he was used to seeing, from his few visits to the island. This wasn't the small huddle of tents and wigwams with their few scruffy dogs ambling around. This was a great rutted street, clapboard buildings lining its sides, a giant structure with the words Fur Company adorning it, a multitude of people in all sorts of strange dress walking along accompanied by horse carriages, colorful houses with strange windows just peering out from the adjacent street behind the first. A little huddle of tents and wigwams did rest upon the shore not far from these buildings, but they were very small compared to the rest, and even seemed out of place, despite the fact that the last time he'd been here...it was the other structures which had not existed. Where once only a migratory camp had been settled...an entire town had sprung up, seemingly overnight.
The gun thudded hard against the ground. And Lieutenant Andrew Barrington, British army, stared down at the strange new town below, utter bewilderment overtaking him.
* * * * *
Mainlander.
Charmian gasped and halted, nearly tripping. Her hand flew up to her ear and she blinked at the trail as if to see something there, yet aside from Niskigwun, Thomas, Pakwa, Turtle, and Tiiku behind her, there was nothing else present.
Thomas came up beside her. "What is it?" he asked under his breath. "Someone spoke to you, didn't they?"
Charmian paused, then nodded. She rubbed at her ear.
Thomas frowned. "Who was it?"
Charmian bit her lip, then peered up at him.
"I think...I think it was Chakenapok," she said.
Instantly Thomas's eyes went wide. She flinched when Niskigwun came up on her other side, the exact same look on his face. Even Pakwa's ears pricked. She felt both of her elbows being gripped and nearly winced at how tightly they both grasped her.
"Chakenapok?" Niskigwun practically shrilled.
"He's TALKING to you again--?" Thomas blurted out.
"Ow! OW!" Charmian yanked her arms loose and glared at them both. "EASY! Why are you both so paranoid?"
"You just said CHAKENAPOK has spoken to you!" Niskigwun hissed through clenched teeth. "You think we have any OTHER way to react--?"
"He's not the same guy as before!" Charmian insisted. "I already spoke with him and--"
"YOU HAVE SEEN HIM AGAIN?!" Niskigwun bellowed, wings flaring wider than she thought they possibly could. Pakwa, Turtle, and Tiiku all flinched back; even Thomas grasped Charmian's arm and pulled her aside. Charmian's eyes grew. The Michinimakinong looked as if he were ready to start tearing up the trees by their roots. "I THOUGHT HE WAS DEALT WITH PERMANENTLY THE LAST TIME!!"
"He WAS!" Charmian yelled, pulling on her arm; Thomas didn't let go. "Like I said I just SPOKE with him--"
Mainlander--?
They all froze where they were. Charmian could tell from the looks on everyone's faces that they'd all heard the voice this time, and this made her brow furrow. Thomas touched his ear just as she had done; Pakwa blinked. Turtle rubbed her ear, then her face lit up.
"There's a voice in my head!" she exclaimed. "A funny voice! There's always a voice in there, but it always sounds the same, and not like this at all, which is why this one is so funny--"
Niskigwun opened his mouth. I have contacted you at a bad time--? the voice said now, and his jaws clamped shut, eyes goggling. Charmian let out her breath and carefully pulled her arm loose of Thomas's grip; she rubbed at it as she attempted to calm herself down.
"No, Chakenapok," she said into the air. "It's nothing. What is it? Is something wrong?"
There was a brief pause. I am not certain, Chakenapok said this time, and Thomas and Niskigwun both furrowed their brows, perplexed, and started peering around themselves as if to find him nearby. I thought that I should inform you though.
Charmian felt a twinge of unease. "Inform me of what...?"
You remember the way you took back up to the surface, don't you--? From beneath the spring.
"Croghan Water." Charmian nodded. "Yeah, I remember."
Well...I could not help but hear what's been happening elsewhere on the Island, with the Ocryxes, and with the GeeBees, and thought I should inform you that they are not the only ones to experience this. A pause. There are signs appearing in the caves beneath the Island, everywhere.
Charmian's eyes slowly grew. "Signs...?" she echoed, a chill passing over her. "Everywhere...?"
She sensed a mental nod. I will not ask you to come and see for yourself...but after hearing of what the demons had to say, I sent the Shadow Wolves to check the cave system as far as they could. They out of every creature on the Island may travel furthest. And they are returning with reports of cracks and openings appearing where none were before.
"Cracks--?" This from Niskigwun; he said it so abruptly that Charmian and Thomas both jumped. The Michinimakinong took a step forward and clenched his fists. "Explain!" he snapped.
Another mental pause; Charmian could feel Chakenapok's consternation, and winced, knowing that the others could as well. I am not sure that I can, he said, nevertheless. They are in the furthest, most out-of-the-way caves, for the most part...crevices big enough for a large animal to pass through. With many of them, there are puddles of water upon the ground, water which was not present before. One or two cave walls have been found practically crumbled as if something has smashed them. And... He trailed off, and Charmian was sure that he wasn't going to finish, before his voice came again, softer this time. And the Wolves say that around each of these spots, there is a strange smell in the air...a smell they do not know.
Charmian's hands crept up to rub at her arms. "You think this has something to do with everything up here...?" she murmured, even as she said it knowing it was stupid to ask.
A mental shrug. I could not say for sure...but it sounds the same. I have a feeling. He paused again. When last I was here. When I dwelled within the Borderlands, he said quietly. When you and Manabozho were attempting to come through...I felt you. I knew that you were coming, even before you came. One more brief silence. This is rather the feeling I get now. That there is something, attempting to make its way through.
A long silence now filled the air, and they all stared off into space as if Chakenpok stood right before them, unease filling them. "Think we should head back to Geezhigo-Quae now...?" Charmian said after a long while had passed; Niskigwun blushed a little and rubbed at his neck. The others glanced around themselves without a word. Charmian turned to face the trail, even though nothing stood there.
"Chakenapok? Do you have any idea what it might be?"
He shrugged again. Whatever it is, it's not something from my own experience. I would even say it's older than my experience...but as for what this means, I could not say. I'm afraid I can offer no more than this.
"Thanks anyway," Charmian said. "You've helped." She sensed him fading, then turned back to the others. "I think we have more than enough to go back now," she said, her voice taking on a hard edge. "Not that we can even say what it is!"
"Perhaps it's nothing," Thomas said. "Even if it is those Lynx thingies, you remember what Niskigwun said. They're weak. So what if they batter in a few walls? Just call up a few Michinimakinong, and they'll be taken care of, right?"
"But what Augwak said..." Niskigwun said miserably.
Charmian waved. "We discuss this later. AFTER we give the news. Maybe Geezhigo-Quae has more to say on it--maybe that's why she wouldn't tell us much. She wanted to be sure before she committed to anything. In any case..." She glanced around herself at the others and made a face. "...I think we should lighten our party and head back!"
"You mean you don't want us?" Tiiku said with a pouty lip.
Charmian sighed. "It isn't that, it's just...well..."
Turtle started hopping up and down. "You still want me, right? Right?" She stopped hopping and started talking a mile a minute. "If we go back I have to tell Papa first or he'll get mad, well not really mad since he doesn't care when I go off, but Grandmother says it's rude to just go wandering off on my own, so I should tell Papa, so I do that because it's the nice thing to do, and as Grandmother always says little girls should always be their nicest, but she says that getting my feet dirty is a bad thing and I'm always doing that so I don't listen to everything she says--"
"I think it'd be best if we adults went," Charmian said.
Turtle turned around. "Just let me tell Papa before we go and then everything will be all set and I won't get in any trouble and you'll barely even know I'm there because I'm always as quiet as a field mouse and--!"
Charmian started running her fingernails down her face. She started in surprise when Niskigwun followed after the little girl, a miserable look on his face. "Come," he grumbled. "I suggest we obey, if only to avoid trouble."
"Obey--?" Charmian gawked. "Are you--are you feeling okay?" She hurried after him and pressed a hand up against his forehead; Thomas, following, arched an eyebrow, while Niskigwun scowled. The Michinimakinong batted her hand away.
"Yes, I am fine! Stop that!"
Charmian's brow furrowed. "But--since when do you take orders from a little girl--?"
He waved at Turtle, who was rapidly disappearing down the trail. "Since THAT one arrived! Trust me! I failed to listen to her once and it was bad enough! I did not hear the end of it for WEEKS!"
Charmian was baffled. "She really had you that scared...?"
He made a face. "Not her. Her FATHER!"
"Paaaaapaaaaa!" Turtle yelled, her voice echoing throughout the woods. "Where are you? I know you're hiding! I know this game real well! Are you up a tree? Are you under a tree? Are you inside a tree? Are you a tree--?"
Charmian's eyes widened. "Her dad's a manitou? Is that it?"
Niskigwun shuffled his wings and winced. "Sort of."
"What do you mean, sort of--?"
He flung up his hands. "Must I spell it out for you--? Why you do not get it already, I--"
"Paaaaapaaaaa!" Turtle yelled again, then she abruptly halted in the middle of the trail, and threw up one arm to point at a pine tree standing just off the path. "FOUND YOU!" She launched herself at the tree.
Charmian's face screwed up. "Okay then, is she nuts--?"
She had enough time to see Niskigwun roll his eyes. Then she gasped and jumped back when the tree seemed to explode, with Turtle in it.
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This item is NOT looking for literary critique. I already understand spelling/grammar, and any style choices I make are my own. Likewise, I am NOT seeking publication, so suggestions on how to make this publishable are not being sought.
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