Читать книгу Soulstice: Luna's Dream - Lance Jr. Dow - Страница 7

The sun is barely up and I’ve got my sunscreen on. Everything I have says things about me and what I believe in. Peace. Love. Nature. Harmony. Christian thinks I’m the weirdest vampire ever. I’ll take that as a compliment. Anything not to be her, I’m all for.

I try to wear as many natural things as I can in our plastic and cement world. I am trying to be “planet-wise” in all my accessory choices. I’m trying as best I can at least.

I have to put on some of my “must have” things like my deerskin leather-cord necklace with my pure silver peace sign pendent. BTW: Silver has no adverse effects on us and neither does garlic… more vamp myths busted. Oh, holy water... all mythology bullcrap. Does bupkis to us. Nada. Trust me I know.

Also got my six charm-bracelets on. LOVES ‘EM! I made them myself. I’ve got some skills besides being a vampire. I think they’re pretty radrock. My favorite is the lighthouse charm of course. The dreamcatcher charm is a fave too. The bracelets are made of all-natural wood beads made from driftwood, so that’s as good as it gets.

I never said I didn’t like fashion. I try my best to wear earthy things - but a nice and quirky T-shirt that expresses my feelings I’ll definitely add to the mix. There’s this shark one that’s outrageously cool. It’s a teeth thing.

Lily loves expressive T’s too and she’s always giving me her hand-me downs. So we’re recycling clothes. You might try that too.

Oh yeah, I just bought some of the most sick hemp sneakers on the internet. It’s amazing what they are doing with hemp now. Well actually, it’s been in use for about five-thousand years. Hemp was used to make rope for ships before synthetics came about, so its durable. I bet you didn’t know the American Declaration of Independence was written on hemp paper.

The sneakers are an insanely intense blue color. Indigo blue they call it. The dye is a natural-dye made from woad. Woad is the wild mustard plant. You’d expect the color made from it to be yellow… but it’s blue as blue can be. Who figures these things out?

I’m having a moment here. Hold on. Something is filling my head. Okay, got it.

I don’t know why but I want the company of my old, blind, Indian friend before I go to school. I call him that because I don’t want to use the name that he gave me – FRANK. He’s definitely not a Frank. I know he has a real Indian name. Then again, he doesn’t know my real name either. I gave him the name Julie. I don’t look like a Julie but he doesn’t look like a Frank so we’re even in the lying department.

My friend is from the Yurok Tribe that fished the waters of the Klamath and the Pacific and hunted the redwood forests long before hordes of white humans came drawn by gold. Then they began to take the Yurok’s timber, game, seals, whales, and fish. It wasn’t long before they took the rest of what the Yurok’s held dear; their land and their dignity, and with that their culture. Now all the Yuroks have is a small casino on reservation land. It isn’t much but it’s better than it was before. I believe they have some dignity back.

I grab all of my school things, and head to the front porch where my bike is. My bike is a cool vintage “earth-tone.” I found it at a garage sale and restored it. I painted it myself with lead-free and oil-free paint. It’s a girl’s classic Schwinn and it rides like a dream.

My helmet is lime-green with matching brown peace signs on it, because a girl has to have a little fun. It matches my also hemp-fiber backpack which is indestructible, only the color-scheme is reversed; lime peace signs on brown.

What am I wearing? No expressive T today. I went with a simple, short-sleeve, cotton black top with some age-appropriate lace action in the middle where the cleavage is, black skinny jeans, and the indigo blue hemp sneakers.

I will wear recycled boots that I find at thrift stores. Lily will not recycle shoes and boots because of her dirty feet fetish, but I will. What’s going to hurt a vampire? I like boots less for fashion and more because they make me taller. Yes, I’m a little insecure about my height. I’ll take the inch or two boots give me. Fo’ sho’.

Back to my Indian friend.

My friend’s son is on the Tribal Council that runs the casino and is in charge of the distribution of the monies the casino makes. His son somehow has managed to build himself a very nice big modern home off the reservation while the rest of the members of the tribe live in small homes on the reservation. The world is always the same it seems.

My Indian friend, get this… lives in a teepee in his son’s backyard. He can live in this nice big house with all the comforts you can imagine, yet he chooses to live in the teepee. I’m not talking he visits the teepee… he lives there.

Now the Yuroks did not live in teepees. They lived in simple wooden plank homes made of redwood. My friend explained to me that he likes the smell of the deer skin the teepee is made of and he loves the feel and smell of the large black bear pelt that covers most of the floor inside of it. The teepee is just the right size for him and it has no sharp corners or slivers that he has to worry about.

My friend has a wonderful wisdom and wit about him honed from another time. A simpler time. That’s why I enjoy our talks and his company so much.

I’m riding towards his teepee now. If only I was on a mountain stretch of road, I’d take the Schwinn for a real ride. If you think I can run fast, you should see what I can do on my bike.

I’m here. Smoke is rising above the fence. That means he’s making bear bacon – that’s his breakfast favorites. He’s never offered me any. Actually, he’s never offered me anything to eat come to think of it. Hmm.

He gives me hand-carved gifts like little wolves and bears. At the end of this summer, he gave me an entire deer family. I don’t know how he does it, but these figures are perfect in every detail. But he’s never offered me anything to eat.

This fact has never dawned on me until right now. Funny how for whatever reason you have these dawnings come to you and you don’t even know why. Then they start creeping in your head and you have to know the answer.

I won’t ask him though. It would be disrespectful. What would I do if he offered it to me anyway? I’d have to turn it down maybe hurting his feelings. I’ll let it remain another mystery of life.

As soon as I enter through the back gate my friend comes out of his teepee. He knows the sound of my bike and always greets me with a special name he calls me. Sure enough - he’s got a piece of bear bacon in his hand.

“Young Fawn. There is no one else I could be happier to have come visit me today,” he says.

There’s an element of excitement in his face and smile. I’ve never seen him so… smiley. He just crammed the bear bacon into his mouth. The mystery remains intact.

“Hi,” I respond.

As he finishes chewing the bacon he moves to his chair by the fire-pit. He uses his hand carved walking stick. He carves those and sells them for a bit of extra money. He likes to be self-sufficient.

His chair is amazing. He spent a year carving the chair out of a single large block of redwood, using nothing more than a hatchet. Then he sanded it smooth and used a natural lacquer on it to bring out the redwood colors and to protect it from the elements. He likes to sit in his chair and smoke an ornate pipe that he also carved. The pipe is ornamented with a beautiful large reddish-brown feather tied on with a thin leather strip.

The pipe is exquisitely carved with scenes of hunting and fishing like you see in Egyptian hieroglyphics on the tomb walls of Egyptian royalty. How he accomplished this feat being blind I have no idea. The tiniest of details are carved in the wood. The objects making up each scene are raised from the background. I know he wasn’t blind all of his life so he must have taken them from his memory. I know it is his most prized possession.

What he smokes in the pipe I don’t know, but it stinks, especially if you’ve got ultra-sensitive nasal receptors like me. On the other hand sweet smells are enhanced for us. The spring wildflower bloom is an amazing time to be a vampire. If heaven has a smell, that has to be it.

For humans, the winter cold is setting in so my friend is wearing a black bear fur wrap that is so long the bottom drags along the ground. His hair is long and gray and contrasts with the coal-black wrap.

He himself stands in contrast to what his people look and dress like now that they have been absorbed by the white culture. I’m not saying that to offend, just making an observation. They wear jeans and boots, and shirts like the rest of us.

Right now, my friend looks majestic. Not a blind, old, Indian-- but like a great chief. Today he has a leather headband that I’ve never seen him wear before, as well as a necklace of beautiful seashells that I’ve also never seen him wear before.

His pipe is at the ready next to his chair and he never smokes this early in the morning. I know I am making a face because of the presence of the pipe and my intense dislike of the stinky smell of the smoke from whatever it is he smokes. I’m glad he can’t see my expression. I’m hoping he isn’t planning on smoking it until I leave.

I truly love his whole persona. It calms me. He’s like the grandfather I never knew: both of mine are dead. (told you we don’t live forever). My grandmothers are still alive. They are old school vampires. They don’t understand the younger generation of vampires, so I really don’t connect with them. I know… imagining some old vampire grandma at someone’s neck gives me the “ew” spine-shivers too. Try to erase that from your memory.

“It’s been awhile Young Fawn,” my friend tells me.

“Yeah, I’ve been really busy,” I say. (true)

“Yes I’m sure you are,” he responds.

Getting cold now, huh?” I add to make small-talk. It isn’t cold at all for me, but very pleasant. It would be like it is at around seventy-degrees Fahrenheit for you.

“Yes. It’s cold. But not for you,” he says to me.

What did he mean by that? “But not for you.”

Why wouldn’t it be cold for me as well? How does he know I’m not cold? He can’t see I’m in a short-sleeved shirt and not shivering-- he’s blind. “Yes. It’s cold. But not for you” that is just plain strange for him to say that right of the blue.

“You must be busy with the solstice,” he says.

Where did he pull that from? Why would the solstice be a busy time for me? Why mention the solstice at all? We’ve never talked about the winter solstice, ever.

His words prick at me. They seem to have a meaning behind them. I don’t have a response. There’s an awkward pause in our conversation but the awkwardness seems to be coming from only me.

“I think I’ll have a smoke. Do you mind if I do?” he asks me.

I scrunch my face. I was hoping he’d wait until I was gone but here was an opportunity to move past his strange choice of words. “No, not at all,” I say.

He sits in his chair and grabs his pipe. He takes a match from a box and strikes it. He places the flame over the bowl and puffs. The stinky smell of whatever is in there reaches my nasal passages in an instant.

This stuff stinks! If I could throw-up I would but we vampires don’t have anything to throw-up. We’re like sponges, with the blood we ingest quickly absorbed out of our stomachs into our cells and organs.

He blows out some smoke and I swear it takes the shape of a bear before the shape gives way to a whimsical cloud, which then drifts into smoky nothingness.

I try not to, but I cough. I’m having a coughing fit.

“I’m sorry Young Fawn. I should not be smoking this around you.” He uses his callused thumb to quash the burning embers out. “I’ll wait until after you go.”

“It’s okay. I’m cool with it,” I say coughing, even though I’m really not okay with it and am glad he’s stopping.

I’m really kind of lost as this is the strangest conversation we’ve ever had since our first meeting in the woods where we met. If feels weird. Our talks have always been easy and flowing.

“How old are you now, Young Fawn?” he asks.

That’s right, we never shared our ages. I don’t know why, we just never did. It never came up. I guess I could see he was old and my voice told him more or less my age.

“I recently turned fifteen,” I tell him.

“Fifteen now! You’re no longer a fawn. Now Lioness of the Redwood Forests,” he responds with another eruption of excitement like when I arrived.

His words were instead like an unexpected jab. How did I go from fawn to lioness by turning fifteen which is the age vampires become adults? Could it be just a coincidence? Could it all be just coincidence?

“By now your abilities must be greater than ever,” he tells me.

Okay now something is up. My abilities now?

“What do you mean… abilities?” I query him.

“You know what I mean,” he responds directly.

“No… I don’t.”

“Of course you do.”

“No, I really don’t.” I say… but I think I really do.

“I know what you are. It’s okay. I’ve always known,” he says matter-of-factly.

“I’m just a girl.” I respond to him continuing what I’ve been taught to do from birth; lie to humans.

“Oh yes, just a girl,” he says with a knowing smile on his face.

Does he really know what I am?

“I knew from the first time we met at the river. I was waiting for one of you as I have these many years. I’m glad it was you that found me. In the older days if you had been wolfen I would have been doomed should you have been even a baby. I often wonder why you didn’t take me. You just said “hi.” Do you remember, Luna?” he asks me.

He knows my real name. He knows what I am. Then he used this word-- wolfen, a term I’d never heard before. Is he talking about werewolves?

“Wolfen?” Came out of my mouth. It just came out.

“Yes, our word for werewolves,” he says like we’re having a normal conversation about life.

He was so calm when he used “werewolves” that it was apparent he had plenty of knowledge and experience behind the word he had spoken.

“There are no such things as werewolves,” I say with incredulity added for effect.

What else am I going to say? My life is deception. Plus, they no longer exist, so it isn’t really a lie.

“Really? Then there are no such things as let’s say… vampires?” He said that while he looks right at me with his clouded eyes.

He had me cold. But I’ve been trained to act and deceive, so I continue to act and deceive. It feels uncomfortable to do it with him though because in our conversations I had never had to lie or deceive him about anything before. We never went into areas where I had to.

I also find it uncomfortable because he and I are connected almost on a cosmic level. But so deep is the code driven into us that I am willing to lie and deceive him to keep the secret of our existence, or at least to not admit it-- even though I desperately want to admit it.

“Vampires don’t exist either. I think I’d better go,” I say. But something has a hold of my feet and it won’t let me leave. Nothing is holding onto them so it must be my conscience.

“Yet here you are Lioness of the Redwoods,” he says.

There is another awkward pause-- actually, total complete silence. But he’s right I am still standing here.

“It’s okay to admit what you are Luna. Your secret and that of the vampires is safe with me. It always has been,” he tells me.

It’s on my tongue. I felt it leap from my heart to my throat and crawl into my mouth up to the tip of my tongue. I want to tell him “yes” I am a vampire. Yes we exist. We are part of the planet. I want this so bad.

“Sit with me,” he offers.

I sit on the ground in front of him, like teacher and pupil. This is how all of our talks went.

“Bloodfeeders and my people go back long before the hordes of foreign humans. Centuries of time. We, Yuroks were of the forest and at least in those days were as aware as the animals we lived among. You came to our lands and fed on us. Bloodfeeders were cruder and more aggressive in your attacks back then. You needed what we had and you took it. There were those among you that killed us with their hunger. They would take too much blood. They would take some of us and keep them to feed over and over again. We learned how to track bloodfeeders with wolves. We attacked and fought them. We laid traps. We managed to survive.

Then came the wolfen to our lands. No one knows where they came from or how they happened upon this earth, but they were here. Unlike bloodfeeders-- the wolfen did not consume just blood; they consumed everything made of flesh and blood. They would even eat the leaves and the earth if it had a drop of blood, flesh, or bone to be digested from it. There was nothing left. They consumed every living creature of the forest. They were formidable beasts and their numbers began to increase.”

I stood dumbfounded listening to him as he tells me things about the vampire past I didn’t even know about. I mean, yes of course I know werewolves did exist but I didn’t know this history of the Indians and vampires. Why is he telling me this now? Why didn’t he reveal all this in our many conversations over the last five years since we met at the river?

“In all things of war and peace, the enemy of my enemy is my friend. We sent emissaries to the vampires. The first ones were drained and killed. But we kept trying. If the wolfen could not be dealt with, the Yuroks would soon vanish and not even be a memory in our own lands.

We found out there were those vampires that wanted a form of peace with us-- a symbiotic relationship. We would give them what they needed and they would help us protect our people from the wolfen.

An agreement was struck that once a year, five hundred of our people would be chosen to go to live with the vampires to be fed upon. This would satiate their need for blood without the death. Then together we would fight the wolfen and hunt them down... we knew every one of them had to be destroyed. It was the only way.

This pact ran across the other Indian tribes with the same result and together we were able to extinguish the threat of the werewolves. They were gone at last forever.

For many, many years we lived at peace with the bloodfeeders but then the hordes of the other humans came to all of our lands. We now had to fight the foreigners in our lands. Little did we know at the time that these humans were just another form of the wolfen.

This time, the bloodfeeders no longer wanted to help us-- the ever-growing tide of new humans were beneficial to them. We were now the threat to the bloodfeeders, as we were small in number and the other humans were many, many more. More humans meant the survival of the bloodfeeders was assured.

The bloodfeeders helped these humans as spies while keeping what they were secret. Our way of life succumbed to the onslaught while the bloodfeeders flourished.

We tried to tell the humans about the bloodfeeders but those of us that did were thought to be crazy and put into prison never to be let out. Others then kept the knowledge secret. Over the years this knowledge faded into the earth itself. For whatever reason, the Great Spirit made this decision for bloodfeeders to rise and the Yurok to fall. I will ask why when I see the Great Spirit.

You bloodfeeders were very smart to make yourselves nothing more than a myth. It’s best to keep it that way. I am the last of those that knows this secret-- the very last. You and your kind will forever be safe now Luna.”

He ended his history lesson not on a point of bitterness but on a point of acceptance. He had turned it all over to God (or the Great Spirit) and accepted the verdict. Maybe there’s a lesson in there for me.

“How did you find out my real name?” I ask him. I don’t know why. Maybe I was ashamed of what we vampires did to his people and I wanted to change the subject.

“I asked the postman. He delivers to your house as well,” he responds.

I couldn't help but smile "I asked the postman", this as we talk of vampire and Indian pacts, werewolves, and the rise and fall of human societies.

“How did you know what I look like to ask him who I was?” I ask.

“Did you forget the time I asked to feel your face and hair? I asked what the color of your skin and hair were and you told me the colors?” he tells me.

I had forgotten. It was the day I met him at the river about five years ago. It was a rare “day” feeding for me. The opportunity arrived with a deer hunter in a tree stand on a foggy day; perfect “day” hunting weather, perfect situation. One quick leap and lunch was served.

I was coming back home along the river when I saw him. It crossed my mind to take him but I had just fed. I noticed him sniff the air, for an instant as I was upwind of him, I thought he was a vampire. I drew in a large amount of air into my nostrils and smelled his humanity. As I got closer I could see his eyes. The pupils were clouded over. I could see he was blind. It didn’t seem right to take an old, blind, Indian enjoying the sounds of the river. I was about to leave when he called out to me.

“Come sit with me.”

I did and that’s how we met. We had a nice talk about animals and as we did he kept turning his neck. A couple of times he turned around on the log he was sitting on with his back to me. I thought it was a little weird but chalked it up to something he did because of his blindness. Only right now do I get that he was offering me his neck. He was waving it around like a red cape in front of a bull. Then he was turning his back to me making an attack even easier. He was submitting to me. He wanted me to bite him.

After we talked a bit more he asked me if he could feel my face. I let him. He couldn’t hurt me. If he did anything I could’ve snapped his neck like a twig or ripped his arm off in an instant. I was already strong enough to do lethal damage to any human or anything else roaming the forest.

He was very gentle as he took my face in his hands and just as gently moved them around my features. He felt my hair and let its length slide through his palms and fingers right down to the ends. He asked what color my eyes and hair were and I told him. Then he said. “Thank you. I see you now, Young Fawn.”

Luckily, or so I thought at the time, he couldn’t see at that moment truly what color my eyes were-- because they were still pools of red. Our eyes (pupils and whites) are various shades of red during and after feeding. From engorged blood-red, to lighter shades of reds, to pinks, and then back to the natural color of our pupils and clear whites as the blood is processed by our bodies after half an hour or so. If we’ve had a light feeding, or we get interrupted and have to break off, it can be as short as several minutes. But I had just had a good solid feeding so my eyes were still blood-filled pools I am very sure. Normally I would not have approached a human so soon after such a feeding, but I saw he was blind so no harm would be done.

We talked a little more and that was the beginning of our friendship. He was a human, but it isn’t against the code to interact with humans, in fact it is part of the scheme of our way of life. “He is just an old, blind, Indian, what is the harm?” I told myself. So that was my first experience stretching the code. But I’ve never broken it. Well I am somewhat now, but you’re not going to tell on me are you?

Anyway, at the end of our conversation he told me where he lived, and if I ever wanted to come visit him and talk some more, he’d like that. I did and here we are.

“That’s right. We met at the river,” I finally responded to his question.

“I asked what kind of bike you had when you visited me once and you told me a Schwinn vintage girl’s bike. So with your description and your bike’s description the Postman immediately knew who I was talking about,” he tells me.

I know now he is older than I thought, much older. The things he talked about when he talked about his way of life and that of the Yuroks always seemed from a different time than his age would allow for. I just thought he was mixing up Yurok history with his own life. You know… that he was old and confused. Now for me it is like a mystery that needed to be solved. I love solving mysteries. I want to know his name as well-- his real name; his Indian name.

“Just how old are you?” I ask.

Sorry, I still can’t call him Frank and never will.

He pauses as if he is reflecting, remembering.

“Old,” he says.

I think I know his secret. I think I know why he was down at the river and why he really asked me to come over. Only what he thought was going to happen didn’t happen because I had just fed and because I felt sorry for him. Because he was blind there was no way for him to see that I had just fed and he certainly could never have anticipated a vampire to feel sorry for a human, any human. I don’t know how he knew I was a vampire, but he knew.

“The man that owns this house is not my son. He is my great, great, great grandson. I get passed on to each new grandson as my sons are all long dead,” he tells me.

I smile. He was a very smart Indian.

“You used us,” I say.

He smiles. “I gave as well in the bargain.”

“That’s true,” I say. “How do you explain your age to your grandsons?”

“That I was a great medicine man and have great medicine. We are superstitious people still. They pass me along to a new grandson. They tell the new grandson my medicine will pass to them, so they let me live with them. Eventually, they don’t see any medicine pass to them-- but I’m not much of a burden and they don’t want to bring any bad medicine to themselves. So they let me stay until they get old and they must pass me to another,” he tells me.

“How do you remember? You’re not supposed to remember,” I ask.

“I don’t know. Vampire saliva or whatever is in it did not have those effects on me. But the protections-- I did get those. And then… I kept living and living. It’s a mystery,” he says.

“Did it… does it… you know, hurt?” I ask.

“Not the fangs so much. They are so sharp, they go in easily. Sometimes the strike hurts if you have the wrong kind of vampire. (he means like the Tremaine’s) The manipulation of the vein in the incisors can hurt. The heart does all the work for you as far as pumping the blood right into your mouths and of course it depends on the vampire and how hungry they are,” he tells me.

“I don’t know if I could let something feed on me,” I say. I was being truthful. I wouldn’t like it.

He smiles. “Wouldn’t you if you were me, and you knew what I knew? The little bit of pain was worth it for such a long and interesting life. Yes, I miss the past life of old, but the new life wasn’t all bad. All the changes were not bad. We cannot change the march of the planet no matter how hard we try. It has its own destiny that the Great Spirit controls. But I cheated destiny-- the natural order. That is my failing. Now I must pay,” he says.

“How did you know what our venom was doing to you? I ask.

“I was very young. About eight years of age. There was a sickness in our people. Those that got sick died very quickly, many died. I also got the sickness. The chief asked my parents to take me deep out to the woods and leave me there for the good of the tribe. They did. My mother wanted it to be a quick death instead, but my father could not strike the blow. Instead, they put me in the river close to the high falls where I would crash my head into the rocks below. It would be quick and would not be by my father’s hand, but the Great Spirit’s. I did go over the falls, but I must have missed the rocks. I really don’t know.

When I awoke, I awoke to a vampire. A young male was feeding on me. I could feel my blood leaving my body. I could hear the sound of him swallowing. When he was done he left me there. He turned to look at me and I saw his eyes and my blood on his mouth. He disappeared in the forest in what seemed to be an instant. I felt my neck and there was some blood on my hand. I washed my hand and my neck and then I felt my neck again and there was no more blood.

I went back to the village. They could see I was not sick, so they let me stay as I must have great medicine. My parents were very happy. They were treated well after my return. Then the blind sickness came. First colors left me. I sought out the vampires, and they always found me.

Then all I could see were shadows, and then the darkness. Your medicine did not help my blindness. Then I learned to see in different ways. I could still hear the river whisper or roar. I could still hear all the animals. I could still touch whatever I wanted. I’ve had seven wives and many children. But they all are long dead. I wanted to go be with them. But I was afraid of the Great Spirit’s wrath. What would my punishment be for cheating him for so long? So I kept on with the vampires. Now I am tired of cheating him,” he tells me.

“Do you think vampires and humans will ever share the same planet? I mean… openly-- that humans know about us and we work something out like your people did with the vampires once?” I ask him.

He had lived so long and lived through so much I wanted to know his thoughts.

“No. There are dangerous tendencies on both sides. Such a thing would lead to something dangerous. I think it’s best the way it is,” he says.

Our conversation was way deep and I stayed too long. I really have to get to school.

“I have to go to school. Thank you for sharing everything. I’ll come back soon,” I say. “We have lots more to talk about. I want to know more about your many lives.”

“No Luna. Tonight I walk with the ancestors in the forest in the sky. I will fly to them with my eagle wings. I welcome it now. I am ready to face the Great Spirit. I am glad you picked today to come see me. There is no one else I would have rather spent my last day with. I am glad we spent time together. I will wait for you,” he tells me.

“You’re dying?” No… he can’t be dying. There is so much more to talk about. He’s my only human friend.

“Yes Luna.” He stands up with his pipe. He unties the feather and holds it out for me.

“This was my first feather given to me by my father when I was born. He got it from a nest atop one of the giant redwoods. It is of the Red Hawk eagle. I give it to you now,” he says.

“I can’t take it.” I tell him.

I don’t want to take it. I want him to live.

“I’ll bite you. My venom is strong,” I say as my heart is exploding in my chest.

“It won’t do any good and I don’t want it,” he says to me firmly.

He offers me the feather again.

“I will be offended if you do not take it. I do not want it falling into the hands of my great, great, great grandson. It has no meaning for him. He is not worthy of it. Plus, it is mine to give.”

I reluctantly take the feather from him and he let the length of it run between his palm and fingers before it slips away fully into my grasp.

“I will remember you by this,” I tell him. And this was the complete total truth. I will remember him.

I don’t know why but I kiss his time-etched wrinkled face. The lines in his face are as old and the creases as deep as the bark of the redwoods.

“First kiss I ever got from a vampire,” he says with a smile. “Go to school now.”

His smile was peaceful and at the same time infectious. I smile too and my gloom leaves me. If he’s okay with it I should be too. Before I leave I have to ask him one more thing.

“What is your real name?”

He smiles, but through trembling lips this time, as his clouded eyes seem to twinkle. This is the last time I will ever see him. I know he’s heading to the river with his walking stick and his pipe. I will never see my friend again.

“The name my father gave me when he gave me the feather. I am Red Hawk, son of Falling Rain.”

“The name fits you well, Red Hawk,” I tell him.

“Goodbye, Lioness of the Forest. Let the Great Spirit guide you along your journey,” he says to me.

“Goodbye, Red Hawk.”

I’m leaving. I want to remember what his face looked like just as it is now, content and proud.

I get on my bike and I’m peddling off to school. I don’t know how to feel as I ride along the street.