One Particular Patriot III

Chief I-na-li eventually exited a nearby mud covered hut and strode regally to face the visitors. His cotton shirt was decorated with various colored beads made from stones, bones and shells. The pattern was intriguingly beautiful. He wore a ceremonial headdress made of feathers and fur. Part of the delay was for him to dress to indicate his status. Lydia shuddered when she noticed that the fur and animal hair looked eerily like strands of human hair. I-na-li stared at the five for several minutes, sizing up the visitors. He eventually recognized Claudia and smiled with a nod. “You have returned to visit your people, Wise Red Owl,” he said in Cherokee. Claudia bowed her head slightly and returned his smile. Replying in her version of Cherokee, she answered respectfully, “Great Chief I-na-li has made my husband and me welcome in his village before. We return to enjoy the company of the Tsa-la-gi once more.” “This is good that you come at this time. A-u-ne-tsi U-gu-gu is ill. Mother Owl is near death in her hut. She will be pleased to see you once more before she goes on her journey.” Claudia immediately began to tear-up. She blinked and fought the lump in her throat. Her hand touched the leather pouch that hung from her trousers belt. “May I go see her now?” “It is fitting,” I-na-li, the man known as Black Fox to the white men, said with an understanding nod. George took over the duties of introducing the other two guests and asked the Chief if it would be fitting for Charles to share the gifts they had brought. I-na-li studied the younger Cherokee man and turned back to his hut without uttering a word in response. George knew the answer. The visitors were escorted to a hut and told that it was for their use while they visited. Young Cherokee females assisted them with unloading the pack horses and young males helped remove the saddles from the riding horses. The helpers and George took the horses away to a fenced pasture area. Lydia and Armando were fascinated by the primitive village's construction. They studied the hut from top to bottom and marveled at its simplicity, interlaced cane poles that were shaped and formed using river mud until they were combined into a sturdy, waterproof structure. Small openings positioned at the cardinal points along the base of the wall allowed air to flow into the dark room and oxygenate a fire stoked in a central fire pit. An opening in the center of the roof was build in such a way as to prevent water from entering while allowing smoke to exit. Small woven cane mats were carefully laid over cane forms like quilts on a rack. The two visitors assumed correctly that the mats were used for sleeping when placed on the dirt floor. At the entrance to the Elder's hut, the shaman studied Claudia for several solemn moments before he opened the heavy cotton blanket that served as a door. Claudia softly walked across the dirt floor of the hut and, fighting her arthritic knees and wrists, knelt beside the old woman's bed. The Elder had her eyes closed and appeared to be sleeping, barely breathing. The shaman continued his prayers and incantations as if Claudia was not present. Claudia heard his words, most unfamiliar, and realized the finality of the ceremony. The Cherokee shaman, and the Elder, were preparing for the old woman to make her passage into the next life very soon. Claudia gently touched the Elder's forehead and felt the coolness and the stiffness of the skin. The once dark skin was ashen and the low fire in the room gave the wrinkled face a yellow pallor. Claudia's touch caused the Elder's eyes to open slightly. After few seconds to gain recognition, Mother Owl's eyes opened wider. The Elder feebly moved her right hand up to touch Claudia's face. Her fading mind recognized the woman that she had named Wise Red Owl, the woman to whom she had entrusted her prized owl amulet and totem, the woman in whom she saw the future of the Cherokee people. In a raspy voice, barely audible against the background noise of the shaman's chanting and gourd rattling, she said in her native tongue, “Wise Red Owl, you have come to help me cross the river. I have work to do on the other side. It will be much easier with you guiding my way.” Without another word, Mother Owl's eyes stayed open and stared blankly at the tear stained face of the 21st Century Cherokee woman. A slow exhalation signaled that life had left the body of the sixty-two year old woman who had served as Elder for the village more than twenty years. Her life, lived within five miles of her birthplace, was longer than most Cherokee, or Europeans, of her time. Her wisdom had helped the small village prosper even with the onslaught of the white settlers. Her fear had always been that nothing would prevent the whites from scouring the earth of the Tsa-la-gi and all other indigenous tribes. The arrival of Claudia Setters, Wise Red Owl, two years before had set her mind at ease about the future of her kin. She left life knowing that Wise Red Owl was even more powerful than she had imagined because Wise Red Owl came across time to guide her to her new life.