The forest was densely packed with trees, and yet there was a well worn path leading through the ground cover towards the clearing ahead. The sky was overcast and foretold of rain, but the haze among the trees smelled of burning wood. Smoke could be seen rising from a dozen clan fires. The gathering had begun and they were the last to arrive.

It had taken a while for the village to gather from their morning chores and give a proper send off to the elders and warriors who would accompany Ohni:ta Pebbles on the journey. They had but to follow the banks of the great river until it turned north and then their path would lead west. It would take four days travel and Little Beaver wasn't looking forward to the walk.

"You must come, it is time," His mother had said.

"Time for what?" The boy asked. "Why are we going?"

"In truth, we make the journey as witness to your grandmother's powers. She alone has the spirit within that guides our lives. You have seen it when she has her spells."

"I thought it was a sickness or a sign of her old age," Little Beaver said.

His mother smiled. "It is neither one of those. She is as old as the rocks on the hilltop where you play, and just as strong. The Atunhetsla comes over her and her mind flies away with the spirits. Do not mistake her power, little man; we would be lost without her."

Little Beaver nodded, his mother was wise for a woman who had only seen twenty-two winters. His own life had been brief, his seventh winter lay ahead and he dreaded the cold. Snow would blanket their world, obliterating the fields where he played and coating the streams with a heavy thickness of ice.

Winter meant hardship, and nowhere was it going to be more apparent then in his mother's dwelling. His father would be missed, for who would do the hunting for them now? Only a few moons had passed since his father's death at the hands of the Huron raiding party.

Little Beaver had but to close his eyes to hear the screams of the women and smell the smoke of the burning lodges. The Huron warriors had attacked at dawn after killing the sentinels who guarded the village. He recalled his father grabbing his war club, there had been no time to prepare. His mother had pulled him from his sleeping robe and dragged him into the larder pit where they stored the vegetables.

The screams and war whoops had rent the air until long after dawn as they remained hidden, but their warriors had beaten back the attack at great cost. Seven men had died before sunrise, his father among them. Most of them had fallen outside the longhouse where his grandmother slept; she had to be protected at all costs.

The invaders didn't even come close to finding her and so the spiritual strength of the village remained untouched. But now there was no man to provide for their needs and the village elders pondered this problem.

Of course his mother, Silent Deer, was the daughter of a powerful woman and so none would begrudge her a place at their fire. Little Beaver had been given his name by his grandmother when he was birthed and no one knew why. But when his teeth came in the boy began to chew on everything made of wood and his grandmother could only laugh.

He would have to be the family hunter and provide for his mother. It would be hard since he could barely pull back the string of his father's bow. His father's legacy was the knowledge he had imparted to his son, the skill of a tracker and the desire to become a great hunter.

Even now Little Beaver could pick out the tracks of a deer hidden among the leaves on the forest floor. It remained to be seen if his arms would be powerful enough to let fly the arrow that might slay such a beast. A wounded deer would run away and it was his sacred duty to follow until the animal fell. Only then could he say the prayers and dispatch the creature to the spirit world.

As the grandson of the clan's spiritual leader he dare not ignore the strict rules of a hunter. Each living thing had a spirit within and they were all tied together under the sun and sky. Little Beaver didn't know all the nuances of creation or the Great Mother who gave them all life. But he had been taught the prayers by his father as they walked the woods in search of game.

"You must pray to become worthy of the hunt," His father had said. "Your cause is noble and your skill must overcome that of the game you seek. The prayers are to ask for forgiveness in taking a life that belongs to the Great Mother."

Little Beaver had hidden behind a tree as his father took aim at a deer. He could see the determination in his father's eyes, but he also saw lips move in prayer. The great bow took an arrow almost twice the length of his little arm. And when released the bowstring sang its song as it threw certain death a great distance and into the deer's heart.

He remembered the smile on his father's face as the deer was carved into manageable pieces for them to carry. The carcass was left for the scavengers, but even they had a place in the Great Mother's plan. It would be Little Beaver's destiny to learn what that was. For now he trailed along behind his mother as they journeyed west to the gathering.

Ohni:ta Pebbles was the spiritual leader of the Bear Clan, one of several clans scattered throughout the lands of the Onyota'aka. For almost two hundred years the People of the Standing Stone had been a part of the Great Iroquois Confederacy, the League of Five Nations.

They had lived in peace for all those years except for minor squabbles among the clans. But recently the Tuscarora people had been displaced from the south by the colonists and coveted their hunting grounds. In time the two groups would learn to co-exist and become allies, but for now the clans had no choice but to defend themselves and they trusted Ohni:ta Pebbles to guide them.

Over time, since the first of the people had come to live in these lands, the women of the clan lead them. Men were hunters, warriors and fathers to their children, but women made the laws. There was no doubt that his grandmother, Moon Pebbles, ruled their lives. Her very name spoke of the power which came from the Great Mother and lived inside of her.

With her husband long gone, Ohni:ta Pebbles lived in the longhouse with her daughter's family and several others. The men had built it strong and snug to keep out the winter chill. Little Beaver had watched the progress of the construction as first the stout poles were embedded in the ground and the roof supports were bent over the framework. The Oneida had been building their houses this way for thousands of years. It was a blessing that the elm trees were in such abundance for their bark provided the waterproof covering.

Little Beaver had been but a few winters old when he first witnessed his grandmother's powers. Her hands were no longer skilled and so she was showing him how to tie the knots to make a corn husk doll. The doll making was play to him, but the knots were important to learn.

This was to be a warrior doll, complete with breechcloth and leggings. The boy had watched the woman bend and shape the husk, holding it for him to tie the bands of thread. But then suddenly she had paused and lay back on her bed. Little Beaver watched as her eyes rolled back in her head and her body began to shake. It was enough to scare him into running out the door of the lodge to find his mother by the cooking fire.

He sat in his mother's lap as they watched the old woman mumble in her trance as tremors ran through her arms and legs. The words were unintelligible, a language they could not decipher. The spell lasted only minutes and then they heard her sigh. Little Beaver was frightened until he realized his grandmother was fast asleep.

"The spirits talk to her," His mother had explained.

"The tree spirits? The animal spirits?" He had asked.

"All of them, she knows the many faces of the Great Mother."

Little Beaver had witnessed the spells several more times, but it was the result of those trances that affected them all. Twice they had been ordered to move, and the clan had packed up the village and done just that.

They would march three days and quickly rebuild in a new place. Invariably the game would be thicker here, the woods filled with food for their stomachs. His grandmother knew how to take care of them. Now she had gathered the clans, they had to solve the problem of the invaders who seemed to be pressing in on them from all sides.

During the last gathering Little Beaver had been too young to understand what was going on. But now, despite his young age, he carried his father's bow and quiver draped about his shoulders, it marked him as a hunter and a man in his clan.

The elders entered the clearing first bearing their long staffs covered in symbols denoting the Bear Clan. Ohni:ta Pebbles came next sitting on her litter and carried by four strong warriors. Her body could not bear the long walk but her mind was still sharp and clear. People bowed their heads in respect; this was the woman they had all come to see.

Little Beaver trailed along at the rear of the procession, his eyes darting here and there at the collection of people. Few would recognize the relationship he had to their spiritual leader, but he scanned the crowd looking for the familiar faces. And then he saw the stone.

A silence spread throughout the people as the litter came to a halt and his grandmother rose to her feet. She approached the towering stone column and bowed, placing her hands on its surface and calling out in prayer.

"Give strength to our purpose, Great Mother. My spirit feels joy to be in your presence." She stood and raised her arms to the sky. "Let our hearts and minds be joined with you this day and for all time."

And then everyone gasped as the Great Mother parted the clouds and a brilliant ray of sunshine lit up the clearing around them. A sign of great power, surely they were all blessed because of this woman, and Little Beaver smiled as the people broke into a sing-song chant.

Mark slowly awoke with the sound of voices echoing in his head. The dream had been so clear, so real. And then his eyes popped open and focused on the ceiling above his bed ... the bed he was sharing with Ronny. What the hell?

They had talked until midnight and then Mark made the boy comfortable on the couch before making his way back to the bedroom. Ronny had said he would have a dream, but he'd said nothing about sharing the bed. This was wrong even if nothing had happened between them, it just looked wrong.

Mark started to sit up and felt a hand on his arm. "Did you dream?" Ronny asked.

Did he dream? "It was ... amazing," Mark said. "It was like I was there."

He looked over and saw those deep brown eyes staring at him. Ronny's eyes were like windows to the boy's thoughts, and now they were full of curiosity.

"Those are my ancestors, they had a hard life," Ronny said.

Mark rolled on his side and propped himself on an elbow. "I know so little about the native people of that time."

There was no denying that the dream was a realistic look at Ronny's forbearers, but there was no time frame. It could have been two thousand or two hundred years ago, but that wasn't the message. The perception Mark had gained was that Ronny had descended from a woman of great spiritual power.

The dream was incomplete. Those people gathered together for some great purpose, but nothing had been explained. The invaders and that was Mark's only clue ... the Huron.

"I looked them up ... the Huron," Ronny said. "The early seventeen hundreds ... "

"Are you reading my thoughts? I thought we had an agreement," Mark said.

Ronny nodded. "I promised, but the questions are all over your face ... you're confused."

It was Mark's turn to nod. "I am that ... is there more to the story?"

"A lot more ... but do you want to dream all day?"

"I suppose not. Why are you in my bed?"

Ronny blushed. "I don't remember coming in here ... I didn't do it on purpose."

"I don't suppose you did, are you hungry?" Mark smiled. "What a silly question to ask a teenager, of course you are. I'll make breakfast...but do you have cafeteria duty?"

"Nope, it's Roger's turn. What can you cook?"

"Anything you want, if I have it," Mark replied.

They ate enough of his small stock of food that Mark decided he'd better buy more, especially if Ronny was going to be around a lot. That was a given, the boy was in his life now ... they were connected.

Mark didn't object to the companionship, but he was worried about what it might look like to the others. Katherine might be a good place to start sharing the idea of their friendship. If Ronny had told her of his abilities then she would understand. But what would she think?

It was a Saturday, the activity day on campus, but Mark wanted to get away. He wondered if Katherine would allow him to take Ronny on a shopping trip.

"Of course you can," Katherine said once they found her. She was out with a hoe in the garden behind her house. "Ronny goes shopping with me all the time, don't you, sweetie?"

"Yes I do, always looking for that bargain price," Ronny laughed.

Katherine laughed as well. "See, he even mocks me. Why don't you take him down to Oxford, they're celebrating the town's history today. You might even get to see the parade."

"That sounds like a fine idea," Mark said.

Oxford was only ten miles down the road, but it sat on the Chesapeake Bay at the mouth of the Choptank River. This was an area prized for its seafood, oysters and crabs. Ronny buckled himself into Mark's car and grinned expectantly.

"I hope you drive faster than Katherine," Ronny said.

"Oh? You like to go fast?" Mark asked.

"Yup ... just don't get a ticket."

Mark laughed and started his car. The trip down the 333 took them almost half an hour, it seems everyone wanted to be in Oxford today. As it was they had to park at the middle school since Morris Street was closed to traffic until after the parade. They walked a quarter of a mile up to Division Street and joined the growing crowd along the sidewalk.

The parade began at eleven, and it wasn't very large. But there were several floats, fire engines, a dozen cars filled with dignitaries and a marching band. Mark watched Ronny who seemed to enjoy every minute. The boy might be fifteen but he was still very much a child inside.

It wouldn't do the friendship one bit of good to spend his time analyzing the boy, he was sure Doc would tell him anything he wanted to know. But from what he now knew the kid's childhood had been wrecked by the father. All that unnecessary grief, the institutions ... the man was a bad parent.

It explained a lot about why Ronny clung to adults who had patience and concern, even the bad ones like Brian. Mark knew he could overcome the boy's growing sexual feelings because they had so much else to explore together.

Between the floats and the cars came a series of small walking groups. The Boy Scouts, some military veterans and several Indians.

"See, those are Nanticoke people, Delaware Indians," Ronny said.

"Do you know them?" Mark asked.

"No ... not personally. But when the colonists ran them off their lands many of them came to live with my people in the north. The Oneida knew of the Algonquian speaking tribes, they were welcomed as brothers."

It was stunning that Ronny knew so much of this history, it made Mark feel ignorant. The dream gave him just a glimpse of that ancient past, but he had to know more. He laid a hand on Ronny's shoulder and the boy looked up at his face.

"I hope you plan on sharing some more of this wisdom," Mark said.

"I will, it takes time."

"You see these things all the time don't you?"

Ronny nodded. "I live in two worlds, the visions never go away."

They followed the back of the parade up Morris Street, but Mark could only think of what Ronny had just said. If this had been going on a long time it would explain so much. Now he knew this had to be shared with Katherine, she would want to know.

Mark imagined that everything he told her would end up being relayed to Doc. It was curious that Ronny had said she understood, the boy had never mentioned Doc. Would the man believe it? Even now it was hard to comprehend how this could be happening. But one thing was for sure, Ronny would never lie to him.

There was a question he wanted to ask the boy, and yet he didn't want Ronny to feel trapped. Mark knew his mind had been open and receptive during the dream which meant Ronny was in contact ... what else did he see?

Ronny had already displayed an abiding interest in Mark's past life, was he looking at that while the dream kept the mind occupied? He was sure the boy was skilled enough to search memories, would he even know? He would have to ask at some point, for now it was just about the fun of living.

Mark knew it would be hard to get into any of the restaurants for lunch, but they found a crab shack on the Back Bay and sat on the docks eating crab cake sandwiches.

"It doesn't get any better than this," Mark said.

"Delicious ... do you fish?" Ronny asked.

"Hmm, not in a while ... probably not since high school. And you?"

"I've never been fishing," Ronny said.

"Never ... never ever?" Mark said. That was incredible, all boys liked fishing.

"I ... I wanted to go, but no one would take me."

Mark shook his head, and then held up his right hand. "I swear I will take you fishing this summer."

"Does that mean we have to go out in a boat?" Ronny asked.

"We could ... are you afraid of water?"

"I can swim, but I've never been on a boat either."

Mark smiled. "Then we'll take a boat and fish all day long. You do know how to clean a fish, don't you?"

"Eww, no way," Ronny laughed.

"Okay, I'll clean the fish, but you'll have to learn. I'm sure it's one of the skills your ancestors would have, I think you need to learn how it's done."

Ronny stopped eating and stared at him for a moment. "You mean that, don't you? But how can you teach me the ways of my people?"

"I can't do it directly, but I'm good at research ... we'll discover it together," Mark said.

They were back on campus by late afternoon in time for dinner. Mark went to his apartment to clean up and Ronny to his room to change. The boy sat at the table with his friends, telling them all about his day in Oxford. Mark sat with Doc and Katherine, the three of them watching the boy as he animated his day's adventure.

"I haven't seen him this excited since his birthday, you must have had quite a day," Doc said.

Mark nodded. "I'm going to have to reassess my thinking on tutoring him. The academic program is coming along fine, but I think he needs to ramp up his learning of life skills."

"In what way?" Doc asked.

"He's never been fishing and I think that's a crime," Mark said.

"Oh ... I never even thought of that."

Mark thought it was time to lay some thoughts on the table, Katherine's reactions would tell him a lot about what she already knew.

"Ronny seems to have an abiding interest in his native roots, he already knows quite a bit. I thought with a little research we both might begin to learn some of those ancient survival skills. At the moment fishing just seems like a good place to start."

Katherine smiled, but her face gave no clue as to what she might already know. "I think that's a good idea. Here we are surrounded by some of nature's finest fishing grounds ... that is if you know how to fish."

Mark nodded. "I do, but I want it to be more than a fiberglass rod and a modern reel, I think we need to recreate the old ways, the ways his ancestors might fish." He hesitated. "I'm sorry, but immersion in the experience will mean a whole lot more to him in the long run."

Doc chuckled. "So you're going to turn yourself into an Indian tutor?"

Mark sighed. "I thought I might find a little help in that direction. There's a Nanticoke community in Millsboro, Delaware. I found that on their website this afternoon. They have a common history with the Oneida that goes back a few hundred years; I was hoping to use that to find us a spirit guide."

"A spirit guide? You mean for the Indian skill set you're talking about?" Katherine asked.

"Yes...well maybe. We both know Ronny reacts favorably to men who show him attention, I was looking for a grandfather image."

"Well, I see you've been giving this some considerable thought," Doc said.

"I just think it's a travesty that Ronny has never been exposed to his ancestry in the proper way," Mark said. "I badgered my parents about our European roots until they gave me everything I wanted to know, Ronny doesn't have that opportunity."

"I think your idea is brilliant, but are you sure you want to get this involved with one student?" Katherine asked.

"You know yourself how special he is, I think it's time to develop his sense of self worth. I was hoping that if he met a Nanticoke elder they might find some common ground. It's a long way to upstate New York."

She nodded. "But you'd take him there ... I understand."

"Do you?" Mark asked.

Katherine looked over at her husband and he nodded.

"I think I'll go check out what kind of pie Paul has lurking about in the kitchen, I'll be back," Doc said.

Mark smiled at Katherine after the man had left the table. "He doesn't know, does he?"

"He knows some of it, but it puts him at odds with his beliefs so I've taken over Ronny's agenda. At this point I'm not sure you know all of Ronny's abilities, so maybe you ought to bring me up to speed on what you do know."

"He reads my thoughts, although we've put some boundaries on that already. The vision transference is the most startling aspect of his mental capability. He told me this afternoon that he lives in two worlds, and I believe him. I don't see it as any form of psychosis, it just ... well, it just is and it certainly explains a lot.

"Katherine, he's been put through hell because of this gift, this ability. I don't know why he has it, I'm not even sure it's possible to find out. I think the best way to deal with it is to develop the boy's mind and body and give him the life skills to cope with other people. So far I don't see what he can do as a threat, but I've never seen him really angry ... and to tell you the truth I never want to."

Katherine sighed. "Last year I tried to find out about his ancestry, but his mother was of no help whatsoever. All she would tell me was that her maiden name was Pebbles and that she came from a very old family in the Oneida Nation. A search of the internet gave me nothing and I don't know how to take it any further."

"That's a start, let me work with it," Mark said.

"He's a very sweet boy and I know he's taken to you ... just don't let him overwhelm your instincts. The thought reading and the vision casting are outside the parameters of our training, but I don't want to see Ronny become the subject of some major scientific study."

"No ... I won't let that happen," Mark said.

"And I think Ronny senses that," Katherine said. "We won't give up on him, he knows that. I just don't know what else he knows."

"That is the question, isn't it?"

"What question?" Doc said as he returned to the table. "Or should I ask?"

"We need to research Ronny's past, his lineage," Mark said.

"You think there's a family history regarding his disorder?"

"Just the opposite, Leo ... we don't see it as a disorder at all," Katherine said. "You go ahead and set up your grand adventure in the Indian world, Mark. I'll phone his mother for permission to take field trips."

"Oh, are you planning to camp out as well?" Doc said.

"I think we almost have to. Don't worry, I was a Boy Scout ... a pretty good one at that," Mark said.

Boy Scouts ... that had been a long time ago ... that's when he had met Jack. Mark remembered his father forced him to sign up, make a man out of him and all that. If his father had only known. It made a man out of him all right, a gay man.

Three years of camping in the woods, summer camp, marching in parades. Scouting was all about learning to follow orders, at least in the beginning. Mark was twelve and the weekend camping trips forged a sense of freedom, from school and his parents.

The skill set of the average scout is directly related to the ability of the adult leadership. Joe Foster had been their scoutmaster. Mid-thirties, dark wavy hair, a handsome man, and a former Marine sergeant. Joe had 'welcome to hell' written all over his face.

Joe was still single when Mark joined the troop, but on occasion his fiancé went on campouts. He recalled the quiet chatter among the boys who knew damn well what was going on in Joe's tent at night. She was pretty, damn pretty, and the slap of cocks beaten in the night was a testimony to her inspiration.

But Joe had plans for his boys beyond what the scout manual expected of them. Thursday nights they marched up and down the hall in the basement of the church that sponsored the troop. At first it was a game, and as Mark learned the steps and commands he was allowed to join the drill squad. One by one the boys who sat on the sidelines joined the marching troop until everyone could lock step and follow the commands.

They marched in parades. The Fourth of July, Memorial Day, Christmas ... hell, Joe volunteered them for everything. But they were good, oh so good, Joe wouldn't allow them to be anything but the best. Uniforms were inspected with a critical eye, perfection was demanded. Boots had to be shined to a near mirror finish. They weren't scouts, they were soldiers.

The slap of forty boots on asphalt, flags flapping in the breeze. 'Company Joe' they called themselves and they commanded respect from all who saw them march. But that wasn't what Mark wanted to remember. Quiet nights in a tent with Jack, two boys who discovered their mutual attraction and the means to quell those inner feelings. Mark would always remember that moment in the summer of discovery, the June of his thirteenth year.

They had been told to bring bathing suits for the camping weekend, not an unusual request. Joe was going to lead them on a hike and a campout in the woods of Virginia for two nights, nothing more was said. Fourteen boys, the hard core of the troop made the trip and discovered they were about to become men.

Joe was the only chaperone that weekend. The other two parents who'd brought them to a clearing in the woods early that Friday morning went home with a smile on their faces, which should have been enough of a warning. The troop van sat alone in the shade of the giant oaks as Joe had them line up.

"I want everyone to strip down and put on your bathing suit ... now," Joe commanded.

Most of the boys went right at it, some looked shy about taking their clothes off, but the command had been given and no one had a choice. Clothes were piled up until each boy wore only his suit and hiking boots.

"You may have a knife, a canteen and your poncho ... nothing more," Joe said. "Arty, you may bring your medicine. The rest goes back in the van."

There was quiet conversation until they marched off into the woods. Joe was the only one with a pack on his shoulders. Mark had no idea what they were going to eat for dinner, or sleep under. The boys all exchanged looks, it was a bit frightening.

The trail led them around a large hill and then down into a valley. Summer had just begun and the forest was covered in dense green leaves. Mark felt vulnerable without his clothing, there was poison ivy along the trail and he knew there were snakes hidden close by as well. What the hell were they doing?

They came to a clearing, the campsite marked by a ring of stones for their fire. Fire? None of them had any matches. A stream ran nearby, there was plenty of deadfall they could use ... and then Joe sat down on the ground.

The boys sat on their ponchos around their leader and waited for an explanation. Joe smiled and waved his arms at the sky.

"In the beginning all man had was the earth and sky. There was no fire, he had to discover it. Men were hunters and it took time to learn how to trap and kill animals. Nature is beautiful, abundant in its bounty ... if you know how to find it.

"There is a spring over there on the hillside, some of the best water you ever tasted. There is food in the forest around us ... berries, nuts, roots, mushrooms. Some of those things you may eat, others will make you sick. Don't put anything in your mouth unless I see it first.

"But that's why we are here; I want you to learn how to survive. You all saw that film about the Cherokee last month. Their civilization is thousands of years old because they learned how to survive, how to cherish the bounty of nature. I learned the hard way myself, in the swamps of Paris Island. The Marines made sure I would learn, or die trying.

"But at your age life is an adventure and this won't be that hard." Joe pulled his pack open and began to spread out the contents; Mark was relieved to see a box of matches along with a pot for cooking.

"So who knows how to start a fire without matches?" Joe asked. And the lessons began.

This was only the first of several weekends Mark spent in the primitive world Joe spun around them. They learned to coat their bodies in mud to keep off the flies and mosquitoes, what roots to eat and how to trap small game that lived in the hidden reaches of the forest around them. He earned a merit badge for the survival skills and he learned about sex from Jack.

Mark didn't think Ronny would enjoy all that survival knowledge, but it was there for the asking. Nature here on the Eastern Shore of the Bay was different; he would have to adapt the lessons. But he thought that finding a Nanticoke elder with knowledge of the ancient ways might be a good place to start. The dream had pointed him in that direction, Ronny's gift had come from his ancestors, and this Ohni:ta Pebbles was the key.


On to Chapter Four

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"A Warrior's Promise" is © 2010 by Chris James.
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