Mia Darien - Good Things

He shook his head slightly. “No one can find old wolf when she is alone but the spirits, and you, I think, as they are with you. But I am more than happy to help you on your way along with Gabby, if you will let me.”

Jemi looked up at Gabby, who hugged her gently once more then let her go. “It is your journey, Jemi. I am only here to support you.”

Looking back at Tobias, she said, “Please, I need to find her.”

The man stood. “Let me get you the spare key for her house. You can put your things there and change if you like. I will put together dinner and some things we will need to be out tonight. Come back when you are ready for dinner.”

“We appreciate your help,” Gabby said, then stood. “Come on, Jemi. If we are going out tonight, I certainly need to change out of my skirt.”

Tobias grinned, almost mirroring Mica’s look. “That is a shame, it is lovely on you.”

Jemi watched and laughed softly as Gabby blushed. “Thank you. We will be back later,” the older woman said, then looked at Jemi. “Shall we?”

They took the key and parked Gabby’s car at Jemi’s home. Nothing had changed from when Jemi left except for her grandmother’s room, which was clearly now Winterhawk’s. Jemi teased Gabby about Tobias, Gabby blushed as they spoke and readied themselves for the hike, denying any interest. It made Jemi relax and tease her even more. She was sixteen, not a baby, and she could see Gabby liked him. They both changed clothes, though Jemi did not have too many clothes to change into. Locking the house up again, they returned to Tobias’ home.

As they approached, they saw smoke and heard chanting. Walking around to the back of the house, they found him there, walking around a fire pit with a sage bundle. He raised and lowered it, making patterns in the evening breeze. His deep voice chanted to the spirits, and Jemi could see patterns and forms in the smoke. Gabby shuddered slightly next to her, then kneeled down to place a hand on the warm dirt. Mica came from within one of the plumes of smoke that carried from the fire out onto the prairie, stalking forward, slightly lowered to the ground, then lay at Jemi’s feet.

Jemi didn’t understand the words Tobias sang, but she felt them deep within her. As the spirits formed in the smoke, she saw them, the spirits of her dreams and of the stories Auntie Winterhawk told her, as they danced in the grey and the wind. Rising in height, then spilling out over the prairie, the last one, Wolf, curled around Jemi, then moved out after the others and made a path along the land that Jemi could see.

Stepping towards the path as Tobias’ song ended, Jemi watched and began to follow the spirits. “Dinner first,” Tobias said softly, stepping up next to her. “I will call again after we eat. That was the first call for them to bless our path, next call will be the one for guidance.”

Tipping her head to look up at him, she asked, “Can you see them too?”

“I am not a seer, but I can call them and feel them,” he said. “Around here, only your great-aunt can see them anywhere but dreams, and now you, it seems.” Flashing her a warm smile, he said. “Steak and salad for dinner all right? I didn’t know what either of you liked.”

Gabby spoke up, her voice a little quieter than normal. “I didn’t get to look this way avoiding meat. That sounds wonderful.”

Jemi nodded and watched as Tobias looked back at Gabby with a smirk. “I am glad, never could understand a person that didn’t like steak.”

Tipping his head toward the house, he allowed Jemi to walk before him. When they reached Gabby, he held a hand out to help her up. “You can feel them too, can’t you?” he asked.

Gabby looked up into his eyes. “Feel, yes, as you said, but I cannot see them. What you called is so different than what I normally work with, the wildness and depth of feeling they shared was almost overwhelming.”

He smiled warmly. “Come and be welcome to our lands, Gabby Williams. The spirits welcomed you, now it is my place to.” Jemi could see him squeeze Gabby’s hand then let go, leading them all in to eat.

After the meal, they went out and Tobias chanted again with Jemi standing where Wolf had walked from her earlier. This time, the smoke and the spirits she saw danced around her, moving to the song Tobias called. At the end of the song, Wolf appeared again to Jemi and began to walk out along the trail that led from the house. Jemi stepped forward and this time, Tobias and Gabby stepped behind her.

The light of the moon was bright enough to light the path, but Jemi didn’t really need it. Wolf led her along a rise in the dirt, guiding her over a path along which Jemi would sense, then see the other spirits step up and fade away.

They walked for hours, but to Jemi, it felt like only a few minutes in a dream. Along the edge of a ravine, Wolf began to quicken her pace and Jemi moved in time. Tobias and Gabby used their lanterns to help mark the edge of the path. A small creek ran through the ravine, then into some of the famous Black Hills before them. Rising high overhead, the aged rocks stood. Upon the cliffs, Jemi could see the shadows of the warriors of her people, watching over them. A little further into the canyon, a small hide tent appeared. No fire stood before it, but the moon’s glow illuminated it in the dark of the night.

Slowly the flap opened and a small, older woman stepped out in a white deerskin dress ornately decorated with feathers, beads, and bone. Opening her arms, she cried as she saw Jemi walking to her. “Welcome home, daughter of Slade. Welcome home, spirit seer. Welcome home, my blood. Welcome home, earth’s daughter.”

Jemi ran into her great-aunt’s arms and from behind them, Mica began to yip and howl. The world around them came alive with other calls of the night animals, all joining in to welcome Jemi home.

From the Author: Some of the mythological details and information used here were found on the following website: www.theoi.com; http://www.theoi.com/Daimon/Oneiroi.html

In Afghanistan, it was a great mercy when night fell. This war-ravaged country with its ancient hills and age old customs had the most beautiful sunsets. Yet it was the blanket of night that allowed for the most artistry.

The stunning moon let the mountains cast shadows over wavy fields of grass. Any precious water in the region could be kindled into twinkling, ethereal ripples. Old villages with collections of square mud buildings straight out of some long lost text were quiet and watchful.

Hoping to avoid destruction.

Scott was there to kill people. Specifically, the people there who wanted to kill him. To weed out the ones with the hateful eyes and murderous intentions. Remove their ability to control the region and be a threat.

There was no point sugarcoating a salty-sweat drenched, dust-caked quest for blood. He’d already experienced being face down with a dry throat, surrounded by clouds of smoke and showers of metal.

He’d grown accustomed to the pops and cracks that signaled incoming danger. The noises that meant a very possible, very real death. He’d fired his weapon along with his platoon, contributing to the racket of war. Eventually, the doom-laden vibrations would go away.

Scott, so far, had lived.

His patrol brought him past a poppy field. Here was the source of heroin and morphine: the opiate that could infect cities with crime and ruin, or provide hospitals with a means of pain relief. There was the occasional addict laying in waste as they patrolled compounds.