It was Friday morning and Nate was making coffee in his usual fashion. Twelve cups of water and two handfuls of coffee grounds, he figured measuring cups were for wimps. The thought made him smile, he'd actually seen this method in a John Wayne movie years ago. It seemed to work; at least his Uncle Bill liked the strong brew.

Evan ought to be back in a few hours and they would take off for the Qualla once again, this time with Denny. Ted was sure she was a blonde with a full figure, Nate doubted that. He saw Evan with a thin brunette, one with short hair and a no nonsense attitude.

The last four days had been idyllic, venturing off to the mountains to shoot the scenery and then back to their workroom for paperwork. On Evan's suggestion they had begun to catalog their shots, a long list of scenes and the file designations to find them. The digital readout on the playback unit made it so much easier.

Both boys knew they could do these simple chores, and Evan had assured them that it wouldn't be time wasted. The day would come when they could sit down and build a movie, the thought was enticing. But at no time had Evan ever made them feel less than competent to accomplish such a great task, they were a team.

Nate tackled the pound of bacon, laying the strips out on the griddle and filling the kitchen with the smell. He looked at the clock, six-thirty five, he gave it two minutes. At six-thirty seven he heard footsteps on the stairs and Ted appeared in the kitchen door. He was so predictable, it was endearing.

"Wow, that smells good," Ted said.

"Coffee's ready," Nate said and handed him a cup.

Mornings like this felt right, so peaceful. They had become a couple so quickly, life was good. Nate stood at the stove and Ted slid up behind him, a quick kiss on the neck and then they parted. They were constantly aware that they were in a house with two other people who knew nothing about their relationship.

The bacon was done, the eggs scrambled and the toast popping up when Bill wandered in from the back bedroom.

"Goodness, you sure know how to wake a man up," He said. "That smells wonderful."

"Sit down and I'll serve you some," Nate said. "Where's Ma?"

"In bed, she's not feeling well," Bill said. "Out in that damn sun yesterday, I warned her."

Joan didn't tolerate the sun well, but yesterday she had gone out in the garden and forgotten how much time she'd spent in the sun. Ted had found her sitting on the porch, flushed and feeling ill. He'd run inside for a bottle of water and yelled for Nate. A little water and some rest brought her back, or so they'd assumed.

Bill seemed to take it all in stride, assuring them that age did strange things to a body and that Ma just needed rest. Nate remembered his mother's illness, the good and bad days that seemed to run on forever before she had to go in the hospital. But those were times of joy in his mind; she had lived a great life all the way to the end.

He had poured out those feelings to Ted only a few days before as they sat up on the Nob. It seemed like the right thing to do with the one he loved. His mother was the only other person who had come so close, now there was Ted.

Of course he felt love for Bill and Ma; they had stepped forward and given his life meaning. But Ted had been someone of Nate's choosing, and the feelings had clutched at his heart. Sitting in the shade of that poplar tree, Nate had lain with his head in Ted's lap.

"Did I ever tell you of the Nûñnë'hï?" Nate asked.

"The who? I can't even pronounce that."

"The spirit people, those who walk amongst us. There are stories about them assuming the shape of someone we know and leading us away from danger. Sometimes they sing and make music, but if you go looking for them they're not there, everyone believes in them."

"Are these like the ghosts Marshall talks about?" Ted asked.

"Not really, these are ancient beings, another race entirely," Nate said. "You know how hard it is to explain odd things, the Cherokee often credit the Nûñnë'hï."

"It's really interesting that a people so well grounded in the elements around them make up little folk tales like that. White culture has ghosts, poltergeists, paranormal energies…"

"And your point?" Nate laughed. "We're all the same; we have a need to explain that which we cannot understand. The Irish have leprechauns, we have the Yûñwï Tsunsdi', our version of the little people."

"Cherokee leprechauns?" Ted laughed.

"They're not just a Cherokee concept," Nate said. "But they live under the mountains and in deep caves under the hills. Hunters who became lost in winter say they have survived because these little people have taken them in and then guided them home. I choose to believe they exist until proven otherwise."

"So I suppose you believe in fairies too, like the ones in Peter Pan?"

"Not really, but they exist in our myths," Nate said. "Unseen spirits in the realm of nature, which takes us back to the unexplained again. But they add to the fantasy of the stories children are told, and it's just plain fun."

"I agree, its fun," Ted said.

The afternoon had been hot, causing them to shed shirts and shoes. It was only moments later that they stripped off everything.

"You have a nice body," Nate said, and then he laughed. "OK, we both do…but I like yours."

"Keep talking, I'm beginning to believe you," Ted grinned.

The kisses led to a more serious entanglement and they built up a serious sweat before they were done. White clouds drifted along the horizon, like fluffy cotton balls atop the distant haze of the mountains. The week had been dry; no rain had fallen to clear the air. Even this far away from the major cities and towns, pollution gathered, fine particles built up into a haze they could see in the sky.

They had run into a park ranger out checking the fire roads yesterday. He warned them about driving on the back roads. He was concerned because in dry weather the fire danger was increasing, but then he forgave them when he saw the bags of trash in the back of the Jeep.

"I appreciate what you guys are doing, it's like party central up there on the Nob," He said, and then he remembered seeing Nate before. "You're a friend of Johnny's, aren't you?"

His name was Brian Tibbs, and he'd gone to high school with JT. They chatted for a while and then he was off to clear the dead wood off the roadway. There hadn't been a major fire up here in years, but maybe that was because the rangers had their eyes open.

It was about nine o'clock when Evan drove into the camp grounds, a pretty short haired brunette sitting beside him. Nate gave Ted a knowing look and then walked over to greet them both.

"Good morning," Evan said. "Denny Brady, this is Nate and that's Ted."

They shook hands all around and Denny took in the sights. "I love it up here, it's been a while."

If Nate had to guess her age he would have said early twenties, just out of Evan's film school. But the equipment pile was growing and Ted was concerned that it wouldn't all fit in the Jeep.

"Bill has a small trailer out back, you feel like pulling that?" Nate asked.

Ted shrugged. "I never did that before, but the Jeep is made for it."

Nate ran back in the house to ask Bill about the trailer and he came out to greet Denny. They walked around behind the house and looked at the trailer. A six by eight box with two good looking tires, they decided it was in good shape. Nate unloaded some of the milk crates stored inside while Ted went to get the Jeep.

"Wish I could go to the Pow Wow with you, but this place keeps me busy, I haven't been in years," Bill said.

"We'll bring back hours of film, and then you can see it," Evan promised.

Bill hooked the trailer to the Jeep and then gave Ted some pointers about backing up. Denny was right there as they loaded, doing her share of the work. Nate studied her, trying to understand the reasons for Evan's attraction, and she caught him looking.

She waited for a private moment when they were alone at the back of the trailer. "You have curious eyes," She said with a smile.

"Evan is still a curiosity to me. I was just wondering about the two of you," Nate said.

Denny laughed. "We've worked together the past five years and that helps us think alike."

"You were his student?"

"Yes, that's the way it began. He's very intense when he works, I'm attracted to that."

"Ted gets like that," Nate replied.

Denny smiled and placed a hand on Nate's shoulder. "Evan told me about you two, I hope you don't mind. I think it's sweet."

Nate nodded. "I don't mind, you ought to know if we're going to work together. As for Ted…he's like the other half of me."

Denny's hand squeezed…a caress. "I do understand, I really do…its good motivation. So we're both lucky."

Nate sighed. "Yeah…so how is this sound thing going to work?"

Denny smiled again. "Digital recording has come a long way since its inception…a very long way. Even the smallest wireless microphones contribute to a good recording, so we'll be using lots of them. We'll each wear one that will broadcast back to a receiver that feeds the computer. I'd like to get some fixed points as well, space them around to pick up broader crowd sounds."

"There'll be thousands of people, isn't that a problem?" Nate asked.

"Not at all. Besides us we can pick out some others to wear broadcast mics, we just have to make sure they're responsible with the equipment. Once it's all done we can go back and edit our way through the mess. That's where the work is."

"Cool," Nate said.

"I've seen what you guys filmed…it's impressive, I especially like Marshall."

"He'll be there and I'm beginning to feel like he's a vital part of this film," Nate said.

"I'd like to meet him," Denny said.

"Guess we better go," Evan said, walking around the trailer.

"Yeah, we need to find a good site for the tents," Nate said.

"All ready?" Ted asked, and they piled in the Jeep.

Denny had spent the past three months working on a project in D.C. at the Library of Congress, she was glad to be back in the Carolinas. A native who'd grown up on the Outer Banks she told them that there was salt water in her veins.

"But when you grow up with sand between your toes the mountains have a greater appeal, I love it up here," Denny said. "The images I saw around Marshall's home were wonderful; I'd love to visit him."

"I'll ask," Nate said. "He's a quiet man; I don't think he gets too many visitors."

The Jeep became silent as they drove west, the highway a ribbon of bland concrete. Ted kept an eye on the mirrors, watching the trailer behind them. He could feel the pull on the upgrades as they started to climb, but they had the power.

"So who's going to tell me what we'll see this weekend?" Denny asked.

"More dancing, only this time it's a competition so there'll be a lot of showing off. Drumming contests, costume shows, and ball games, a regular Cherokee Olympics," Nate said. "You guys will have fun with all that; I want to capture the campfires, the faces and the stories."

"I love a good story," Denny said.

"A lot of it will be told in Cherokee, that's why I was hoping to get Marshall in as our narrator. I want the translation to be as accurate as possible."

They could already see the increase in traffic as they approached on Highway 19. The tribal police were out moving traffic away from the center of town and directing them to the parking lots around the high school and the open spaces outside of town.

"How do we get in?" Evan asked.

"The fairgrounds aren't open to the public until late this afternoon," Nate said. Ted slowed down as they approached a uniform standing behind a sawhorse blocking the road.

"O'siyo," Nate called out. "Joseph Crowe said we should ask for him when we arrived."

The officer had a list. "Under what name?" he asked.

"Nathaniel Smiley, am I on there?"

"Yes, here you are. Follow the red ribbons to the back of the fairgrounds," The officer said. "The performers are camped back there."

"Sweet," Ted said as the man removed the barrier. They hopped the curb and drove through a gate, following a beaten path towards the trees on the far side of the fairgrounds. There were campers lined up near the trees, a long row of tents and even a few teepees. Nate spotted a familiar truck parked against the forest wall.

"There's Marshall's tent…well, whatever you want to call it," Nate said.

"It looks like…like a yurt, an Asian yurt," Evan laughed.

The mass of animal skins covered some kind of framework, but it looked so unique, about what they should have expected from Marshall. The man himself was standing by the fire pit with a young man, and Gihli. He looked up as they approached and waved his arms over his head, turning to point at the open space not fifty feet away.

Nate slid out of the Jeep as it came to a halt and ran over to Marshall. "O'siyo, Marshall," He said, and the man embraced him.

"I saved you a good tenting space, but I had to fight off hordes of Indians to keep it," Marshall laughed.

Nate laughed with him and then pointed so Ted would drive over. "We've brought help and a ton of equipment. This thing is growing at an amazing rate," Nate said.

"I told you it would, this pleases me."

Nate stared at the tent. "OK, where did you get this?"

"Asia, Mongolia to be precise. Ben and I were there about twenty years ago, it's the perfect camping accessory. You can pack it up and strap it to the back of a horse, or a pickup truck if you prefer." Marshall was beaming, glad to see they'd arrived.

Ted walked over followed by Evan and Denny. "Ted, so glad to see you again," Marshall said, giving the boy a hug.

"Marshall, this is Evan and Denny. Evan's from the film school at Wake Forest and Denny's a graduate, our sound expert," Nate explained.

Marshall smiled and held out his hand to each of them, and then Gihli arrived and began to lick Nate's face.

"Goodness…is that a wolf?" Denny asked.

"Part wolf, the best part," Marshall said.

"I have to ask, where did you get that tent?" Evan said.

"Mongolia, it's quite nice, would you like to see inside?"

They approached the tent and Marshall cautioned them not to disturb the stones on the ground. Nate realized they formed a great ring around the tent and most of the site, a spirit circle of Marshall's making. The flap on the tent opened as they crossed inside the ring and the young man Nate had seen earlier stepped out. Gihli ran over to him with her tail wagging.

The Cherokee boy couldn't be much older than Ted, but he had straight black hair that hung to his shoulders. He was dressed like Marshall in buckskin, but his feet were bare. And around his neck was a necklace of ancient design made of bone.

Marshall turned to Nate. "Nathaniel, this is Usti Waya…Little Wolf," He said. "Nathaniel is known as Little Bear," Marshall told the boy.

"O'siyo, Usti Waya," Nate said, and the boy nodded his way.

"Little Wolf is unable to speak, he was born that way," Marshall said. "But the Creator has given his other senses greater power to compensate. He understands English and Cherokee and he will sign with you. He also cooks and takes care of this old man who always misses the comfort of his home."

Nate smiled. "I'm glad you have someone to care for you," He said.

"All things being equal, he's a comfort," Marshall replied. Little Wolf held back the flap of the yurt and they all peeked inside. There were three cots and loads of pillows, Marshall liked his comfort.

"So…you better go set up your camp before all those Indians swarm in here again," He laughed. "But don't stuff yourself with all that junk food they'll be selling, I'm serving you dinner around six-thirty."

"You don't have to do that…" Nate protested.

"It gives me pleasure, Nathaniel. Tomorrow your day will be filled with games and dancing, tonight I have the pleasure of your company and we can talk."

Denny and Evan set up their tent, and Ted spread theirs out under the trees. The site had a small fire pit surrounded with stones but nothing to sit on. Nate pulled the lawn chairs from the trailer and set up the folding table. All around them the fairgrounds was buzzing with activity as more people arrived.

The license plates told the story. Washington State, Oklahoma, Kansas and Texas, just to name a few of the ones Nate saw. People were unloading piles of dance costumes and hanging them on poles in the hot afternoon sun. There was excitement in the air and Nate felt it. He had been to a dozen Pow Wows, but never seen them from this angle before.

The Travers family had their own campers emblazoned with bright colors and painted images of dancers. Once the camp was set up they all went for a walk to view the competitors.

"I feel distinctly in the minority here," Ted said as they walked the perimeter road. Denny and Evan trailed behind.

"There are a few whites who dance, I saw some of them last year," Nate said.

"Cherokee?" Ted asked.

"No, I think they were from one of the western tribes, there will be a dozen tribal groups represented here. They give pretty good prize money for the competition, but if they come from all the way out in Washington State it must cost them a lot just to get here," Nate laughed, and then a lady passed them carrying a dog all dressed up in buckskin and feathers.

Ted shook his head. "It takes all kinds. So where did Little Wolf come from, we didn't see anything of him when we were at Marshall's."

"You think Marshall and him…?" Nate asked.

Ted grinned. "Wouldn't be the first young guy to hook up with someone older, did you see his eyes?"

"Yeah, that gold coloring…unusual."

"He doesn't look of mixed race, but he is unusual," Ted said.

As they approached the Travers' camp they saw young Abner Travers walking towards them with another boy.

"O'siyo, Little Bear," Abner said.

"O'siyo, Abner," Nate replied.

"This is Cansasa, that's Red Willow in the Lakota language."

"O'siyo, Cansasa."

"Hau, Little Bear," The boy replied. He was dressed in plain clothes, but his hair was braided on either side and the center was spiked up into a beautiful Mohawk cut. Nate decided he was a dancer and Abner confirmed that.

"Cansasa is a hoop dancer just like me," Abner grinned. "So we compete tomorrow."

"Ah, making friends of the competition, a wise move," Nate laughed.

"Dad was wondering if you were going to walk over, he's in the big camper," Abner said. "We're off to find Thomas, have you seen him?"

"No, I sure haven't. Nice to meet you Cansasa, see you later, Abner," Nate said, and watched them walk away.

"Wow, I love that hair," Ted said.

"It wouldn't look right on you, something about a blonde Mohawk doesn't seem right." And Nate jumped away laughing as Ted took a playful swing at him.

Evan and Denny followed them into the Travers' camp and shared greetings with a few of the guys from last weekend. Billy was sitting outside a camper with a needle and thread, binding feathers to a leather thong.

"I didn't know you sewed," Ted said.

Billy laughed. "I don't, but I've trashed this wrapping so many times when I dance I'm doubling it up in advance. So are you ready for the big event?"

"Yes," Ted replied, and then he introduced Denny. They talked about the schedule of events for the evening and on into the weekend before Bob stepped down from the camper.

"O'siyo, my friends," Bob called out. "And who is this pretty young lady?"

"Bob Travers meet Denny Brady," Evan said. "She's going to make what we film sound good."

"That makes sense," Bob said. "Come on up in the camper where it's cooler."

The weekend would be hot and sunny, the cool air in the camper was welcome. Bob offered them lemonade and they sat down.

"Are you dancing?" Evan asked.

Bob laughed. "I'm not in competition anymore, but I'll dance at the bonfire tomorrow night. I love these things; I get to see people from all over the country and share ideas. The boys love the competition, I love the gossip."

"Can I ask a favor of you?" Denny said.

"Certainly, ask away."

"Would you wear a wireless microphone when you wander around the fairgrounds?"

Bob smiled. "You wanna spy on me?"

Denny laughed. "No, but I need sounds. It has a switch so you can turn it off if you get into any secret conversations."

"Yeah, wouldn't want to give away my secret recipe for moonshine," Bob said.

"You make moonshine?" Nate asked.

"Shh," Bob said. "I never said I did…but I have years ago. OK, I'll wear your gear; just show me how to use it."

"Thank you," Denny said.

"What kinds of sounds are you looking for?" Bob asked.

"Drums, conversation…singing. We'll be able to pick things out later on when we're in the studio," Denny said.

"I can do that," Bob said.

They talked about the process and Nate understood that Bob would do anything just to make sure the Travers looked good in the film. He also revealed that Marshall had arrived the day before and set up camp, establishing his spirit circle first thing.

"You'll get to see him in all his glory tomorrow night. The shamans from all the clans will hold a ceremony for the dancers, but no one puts on a show like he does," Bob said. Nate could believe that.

Evan and Denny walked back to their camp to set up some equipment, Nate and Ted remained. Mrs. Travers invited them to stay for dinner but they begged off, telling her of Marshall's invitation.

Bob smiled at Nate. "Did you meet Little Wolf?"

"Yeah, an interesting guy," Nate said. "Where did he come from?"

Bob shook his head. "I have no idea; he might be from the Nation out west. But I didn't know he was there until this morning. I walked over to see Marshall and the minute I stepped in that circle the man came out of that tent and glared at me. I have to say he gave me a chill by doing that, but Gihli knows me and once he saw that he went back inside."

"Did you ask Marshall about him?" Nate asked.

"No, it would be impolite…you know how he is. What's the old saying? 'Don't quiz the shaman; you'll get more than you bargained for.'"

"There are so many things about Marshall I don't understand," Nate said.

"You aren't alone," Bob replied.

Ted was quiet throughout that conversation, but then he shook hands with Bob as they started to leave.

"You gonna play ball with us in the morning?" Bob asked.

"Me? You don't mean me?" Ted asked.

"Sure, grab some shorts and come have some fun in the scrimmage. We're playing the boys from the Crow Nation."

Nate started laughing. "No way, we need Ted in one piece to film it."

"OK, forgiven…but we'll roll right over them," Bob said.

Ted and Nate left the camper and walked back to Marshall's. Abner and Thomas were there sitting inside the spirit circle with the Lakota boy, Cansasa. Marshall beckoned them to join in.

"Come, I'm teaching the boys a little culture," Marshall said.

Nate and Ted sat down across from Little Wolf who nodded their way. Gihli moved over and lay at the boy's feet as Marshall resumed his lesson

"The Cherokee isn't like the white man, we see ourselves as a part of nature, another element in the great wonder of creation. The spirit world was very real to our ancestors since everything was said to contain a spirit. It's difficult to separate the concept of religion and spirituality in our beliefs, for there is no religion when everything is spiritual.

"This is why a hunter prayed for guidance to catch his prey. The spirits controlled the earth he walked upon, the water he waded through and the plants and bushes that hid the game he sought. The ancestors felt they had to receive the blessing of the spirits to even find those animals. And then that animal, no matter how small, had its own spirit to appease.

"The prayers were for success in the hunt because a man felt like he had to convince the spirits that his purpose was noble, that his need was greater than that of the animal. And even after the kill a hunter would pray that the spirit in that animal might forgive him for the deed. A man had to feed his family, and nothing was considered more important."

Marshall smiled. "Yes, Abner…I see you have a question."

"Now we buy our meat in the grocery store and no longer have to hunt for food, how does that affect our relationship to nature?"

Marshall nodded. "A good question, the grocery store comes between us and nature. But even the Christians amongst us have an answer; they give thanks for their food at the table. Even if you cannot see the spirit in whatever part of nature lies on your plate, you are giving thanks to the Creator for putting it there.

"All the Creator will ever ask of us is that we recognize our food comes from her bounty. For just as she created our world and filled it with creatures, she created the spirit world as well and always controls it. The modern ways of man should not change the way we look at nature, her gifts to us make life possible. I sow the seed of this thought in your mind so that you will always know who to thank for your blessings."

Abner smiled. "Thank you," He said. "I think Thomas and I had better go back, Cansasa has to help his father with dinner too. Will we see you later at the bonfire?"

"I'll be there, boys," Marshall said.

He smiled as the boys left, and nodded at Nate. "So young…so many questions that need answers."

"You should have been a preacher," Nate said.

"I am, I just don't have a congregation like you might think of it. The first principle of being a good shaman is to teach and to heal," Marshall said. He reached over and touched Little Wolf's arm which caused the boy to smile at him.

"I see the perfect blend of nature in this one's face. Sometimes wild, more often not. We humans spend a lot of time believing that we are the Creator's prefect being, and yet with every generation we get further from that truth. The connection between a man and the Creator's intentions is difficult to understand, and yet when I look in this boy's eyes I see the wonder of it all and I find my truth."

Marshall smiled. "Little Wolf is making a corn chowder for our supper and we'll eat the rabbits he caught last night. Will your friends be shy of eating game?"

"I don't think so," Nate said. "Is there anything we can do to help?"

"You might run over to the store and get us some more ice, I think we're about out. Here let me give you some money," Marshall said.

"No, we have funds," Ted said. "Lots of funds."

"Oh, are you rich now?"

Nate shook his head. "Not quite, but we were given a grant to make this film and it more than covers our expenses."

Marshall nodded. "Excellent, this is really moving along for you."

"Marshall, we'd like you to narrate parts of the film for us," Nate said. "What we have planned is going to need some explanation and I can't think of anyone else I'd rather have do it."

Marshall cocked his head to one side and studied Nate's face. "That's very kind of you, but I don't travel very well you know. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for Little Wolf."

"We'll come to you…just Ted and I. I know you value your privacy, I don't want you to feel put out."

Marshall reached out and took Nate's hand, and then Ted's. "You boys bring me joy, and for you I'll do it." And then he looked over at Little Wolf and nodded. The boy reached out and laid his hand on Nate's as their eyes met.

And Nate suddenly knew…but the shock of that moment kept him silent. It wasn't possible…but it just…it just was. And Little Wolf smiled.

Ted was oblivious to the moment and their hands parted. "OK, we'll go for that ice," Ted said, standing up and looking down at Nate. Little Wolf turned away and the spell was broken. Nate slowly rose, and followed Ted down the road towards the store.

"You OK?" Ted asked.

"I'm fine," Nate said. "Did you feel anything when our hands touched?"

"Marshall has cold hands even on a hot day. Is that what you think?" Ted asked.

"Yeah…maybe." Nate couldn't talk about it, it didn't make sense. He would have to ask Marshall. For if it was true…only a powerful shaman could make it so.

They came back just before six, bags of ice in hand and with Evan and Denny in tow. Marshall had a sturdy picnic table set up and Little Wolf was tending a half dozen rabbits over the fire.

"Welcome," Marshall said, thanking Nate and Ted for the ice and pointing at the empty cooler sitting beside the tent. There was a pile of flat panbread on the table and a huge container of fresh greens. Little Wolf carried a steaming pot over to the table and smiled.

"I think he wants us to sit down and eat while the chowder is hot," Marshall said. Little Wolf handed Marshall the ladle and went back to the fire. One by one the rabbits were removed from the spit and placed in a roasting pan, and then Little Wolf dug in the coals and turned up a bunch of roasted yams.

"Where did he learn how to cook?" Evan asked.

"Spoken like a jealous bachelor," Denny said, and they all laughed.

"Little Wolf has some interesting talents, he took to cooking right off the bat," Marshall said.

Nate sat quietly, absorbing all the details and adding them to the list of questions he had for Marshall. The deceased partner Ben had been a cook, Marshall had envied that trait. But the man gave him no clues as he ladled out the chowder to everyone, and Little Wolf soon joined them.

Marshall engaged them in quiet conversation about the progress of the filming, while Nate tried to avoid looking at Little Wolf unless necessary. But the boy was aware of that reluctance and kept gesturing to Nate, encouraging him to eat more of this and that.

The food was good, and Ted engaged Little Wolf by telling him what a great cook he was. The boy nodded and pointed at Marshall, giving him all the credit. Marshall finally laughed and shook his head.

"I don't boil water very well. If it can't be cooked on a grill I'm lost. Little Wolf just seems to have the knack, he hasn't poisoned me yet."

The boy reached across the table and smacked the back of Marshall's hand, baring his teeth in an evil grin. Marshall stuck out his tongue in a familiar childish gesture. There was love between them, Nate could tell. His mind kept telling him that what he thought was impossible.

The whole time they ate their dinner the fairgrounds was coming alive. The gates were open for an evening of activity but the real attractions would begin tomorrow. Tonight there would be bonfires and social gatherings as many of the dancers and contestants knew one another from years past.

Little Wolf put a huge pot of water on the fire to heat while Ted and Nate collected the utensils. There were trash barrels set up along the roadway and Evan carried the spoils to one of them. They were careful as they moved around the site not to disturb Marshall's ring of stones, and Nate noticed something.

They all stepped carefully over the circle, even Gihli was aware of her steps. Only Little Wolf had no reason to worry, Nate noticed he never left the circle. If what he thought was true the boy could not step across that boundary because he would be outside Marshall's ring of powerful magic.

Nate had to put aside these thoughts, they were here for a different reason and this was a distraction. If Marshall wanted them to know he would speak. For the moment it was enough to know that Marshall had found a companion, it only remained to be seen what price he had paid.

In all the mythology and legend Nate had read or heard, the feats of magic a warrior or shaman might perform required a token of exchange. The spirit world was a place most Cherokee perceived and yet feared to encounter. The ghost stories alone could terrify a full grown man, and yet they were so very special to his people.

Nate could not complete his thoughts, only Marshall could do that. But if indeed he had spent years on the edge of the spirit world then this 'thing' would not seem impossible. Only now as the sounds of drumming began did Nate feel a moment of concern for Marshall. He could only hope the man knew exactly what he was doing.

Once Marshall's site had been cleaned up Evan and Denny wanted to go watch the drumming. Their equipment had been set up in the trailer and only an antenna clipped to the roof gave any clue to what was inside.

Denny picked up four of the remote units and clipped one on each of them, explaining how to turn them on and off. The microphone was the size of a peanut, the transmitter box no bigger than a deck of cards. A few taps on the computer keyboard and Denny smiled.

"We're recording, so let's go spread out and have fun," She said.

Ted grabbed his camera and they walked back up the roadway, passing Marshall's tent. The site was empty so they kept on walking towards the main fairgrounds. It was still several hours until darkness would enfold the site and the fires would be lit. They could already see several large stacks of wood laid out in the field and people milling around them.

Although the majority of people on the site at the moment were of native origin, the tourists were wandering here and there with their cameras. The craftsmen and women had set up booths to sell and display their wares, food vendors abounded, and the fairgrounds had that carnival atmosphere.

The members of different tribal groups could be distinguished by the color and style of their clothing. Many of them were not in tribal costume, but a T-shirt with 'Lakota' on it was a dead giveaway. A lot of young ones ran through the crowd, the excitement plainly etched on their faces. Ted quietly filmed everything he saw.

Familiar faces in the crowd, the Ross family. Lenny ran up to Nate and gave him a hug.

"O'siyo, little man…how have you been?" Nate asked.

"Just fine, wouldn't miss this," Lenny replied. "Did you come to see us dance?"

"Of course, we wouldn't miss that," Nate said.

Joe and Ethan shook their hands while the girls stood back shyly. "Everything going well with your project?" Ethan asked.

"Wonderful, we're still going strong," Ted replied. "When do you perform?"

"Tomorrow around four," Joe said. "The kids' competition is at two."

"We'll be there," Ted promised.

"How is Granny?" Nate asked.

"Fine…just fine. The ladies stayed at home tonight, we'll bring them in after breakfast tomorrow. Joseph Crowe says they have a shelter set up for the elderly to watch, stop by and see her," Ethan said.

"I will. We have a teacher now from the University film school and someone to do our sound. But it will give us a much better film," Nate said.

JT was the next one to find them in the crowd, and Nate almost laughed. The man was all done up in war paint and feathers, buckskin leggings and all. He carried a blowpipe in hand and had a pouch of darts tied to his belt.

"Whoa, JT…where are you going dressed like that?" Nate asked.

"You like?" JT laughed, frowning when he saw Ted point the camera his way. "The tourists are giving me ten bucks for a photo…you got any money, white boy?"

"Sure, if I give you twenty will you shoot someone with that thing?" Ted laughed.

"Cherokee assassin…hey, I like that," JT said. "We have a little competition coming up, you know, it's like playing darts at the tavern."

"So you're doing it for the free beer," Nate laughed.

"OK, you figured it out, but why not. I'm pretty good with this thing; can I put an apple on your head and shoot it off?"

"No thanks," Nate said.

"You're no fun…gotta go, see ya," JT said and he bounded off into the crowd.

"Wow, he's all hopped up," Ted said.

"This is party time for most of the local guys; he works hard so I guess he's earned it. Let's go sit in on the drumming for a while."

A row of flat drums had been set up before the bleacher seats on one side of the fairgrounds. Each drum was surrounded by chairs, and most of them were occupied by Cherokee. Every drummer held a long beater and flailed the drum head in time with the others. The ages of the drummers varied, from teenagers all the way up to very old men.

One man held forth with a song that rose and fell in pitch, while others repeated what he said as a chorus. Ted stood at the end of the row and quietly filmed the action. He could see tourists filling the bleachers to watch but he ignored them, they weren't what he wanted to see.

The faces were bright with emotion; each drummer was fully engaged with his task. This was a huge social occasion and they occasionally shouted above the din to their neighbors. These were the ordinary folk, they weren't performers except here. Laughter would often filter down the row if someone dropped the beater.

Finally a shout and the drumming halted. Someone cried out a phrase in Cherokee, a new beat began, and the drummers quickly joined in. Ted could only imagine how many times these people had come together like this, but he could see it gave them a sense of community.

The sound filled the fairgrounds as people came and went from the crowd surrounding the drummers. The afternoon was fading and with it the light Ted needed to film scenes like this. But then it would be night and the firelight would give the camera a new dimension to focus on.

They met up with Evan and Denny, each of them turning off the microphones for their conversation.

"I saw you filming the drummers; we've been over with the vendors enjoying the colors." Evan said.

"I like faces," Ted said. "There's so much emotion to enjoy in their faces."

"We're going to take a break and come back when they light the fires," Evan said.

"Yeah, that's a good idea," Nate said.

They walked across the site back towards the tents and Ted excused himself to the bathroom. Nate approached Marshall's campsite and saw Gihli sitting by the fire pit. He stepped across the ring of stones and she wagged her tail at him. But no sooner had he squatted to pet her then the tent flap opened and Little Wolf stepped out.

Nate waved and Little Wolf came over and squatted by the fire. He poked a few new pieces of wood in the coals and looked up at Nate.

"Is Marshall sleeping?" Nate asked, seating himself on the packed ground.

Little Wolf nodded, closing his eyes and tilting his head.

"All this must be exhausting for him…is he doing well?"

Little Wolf shook his head and placed his hands on either side of his head.

"His head bothers him?" That brought a nod.

"I want to ask him…you know…about you," Nate said.

Little Wolf shook his head, and then held a finger to his lips.

"It's a secret, I know. I just find it hard to believe…can you understand that?" Nate asked.

He received a nod in return.

"If only you could talk…" And that brought a smile to the boy's mouth.

Nate sighed. "I love the necklace; did Marshall give that to you?"

Little Wolf patted his chest and fingered the necklace.

"It's yours…but it looks very old."

Little Wolf held up his right hand and made motions of pulling a thread through his fingers, and then he mimed placing the necklace around his neck.

"You made that?" Nate asked, and again received a nod.

"But its old…very old." And this time when Little Wolf nodded Nate began to grasp what Marshall had done. Did he dare ask?

"You…you're old too…aren't you?" Nate asked.

Little Wolf looked him in the eye, and then nodded. It suddenly struck him; those eyes were not quite human. Nate felt like he couldn't breathe…what had Marshall done? Again Little Wolf raised a finger to his lips, he wanted the secret kept. Nate nodded, but a chill had settled in between his shoulder blades.

"Waya," Marshall called from inside the tent and Little Wolf looked at the tent flap. He patted Nate's hand and held up a finger, he was asking Nate to wait. The boy got up and slid into the tent. The sounds within indicated that Marshall was awake, and Nate watched as the flap opened and the man stepped out.

"Nathaniel….I'm sorry, have you been waiting long?" Marshall asked.

Nate shook his head. "No…I was just sitting here with Little Wolf trying to have a conversation."

Marshall sighed. "It's difficult, I know. He's strong and bright…and beautiful, which makes it all that much more frustrating."

Marshall was wearing a long beaded robe and had feathers tied into his hair below the ever present turban. He sat down on the flat stone beside the fire and smiled.

"You're all dressed up," Nate said.

"I have guests coming over after the bonfires," Marshall said. "I don't want you or your friends to be concerned about what you might see or hear this evening, shamans can be a noisy bunch."

Nate looked at Little Wolf sitting beside the pit, slowly tending the fire. "Do they know about him?" Nate asked.

Marshall raised his eyebrows, and then he smiled. "I shouldn't be surprised that you do; you have some understanding, don't you?"

"All I have are questions, because…because the answers are too difficult to imagine."

Marshall nodded. "You are so perceptive, maybe you were meant to be shaman. Who do you think my Little Wolf is?"

Nate found the words hard to speak, for now Little Wolf was staring at him as well. "He is wolf…and man. I don't know how you did it. That necklace is my only solid evidence, there's one like it in the museum and that one is hundreds of years old."

Marshall leaned forward and took Nate's hand, and their eyes met.

"His name is Usti Waya, he is Cherokee and you will find his name on the rolls of our ancestors. He died in eighteen and thirty-nine on the long march west at the age of nineteen. I have known his spirit for several years now; it keeps coming back to me when I sit in prayer.

"His village was destroyed, his people all gone, and his spirit could not find rest in the darkness. So he came to me as I stood upon the threshold of the doorway to the spirit world and implored me to kill him yet again and scatter his ashes. I do not kill, Nathaniel…I never have. Instead I gave him life through his brother the wolf."

Marshall's eyes were like coals and they gleamed with menace. "I tell you this as the deepest of secrets, one you may not share with anyone…even if you love him. My life and Waya's would be forfeit if anyone discovers what I have done."

Nate felt like his head was about to explode as he nodded dumbly, and then Marshall's face became soft, the eyes returning to a warm and loving gaze.

"You are Nasaniyeli Smiling Sky, our Usti Yonv. I will tell our Little Bear only truth, for you need understanding to grow into your true self. But there are secrets within secrets and I may not tell you how this was done. Someday the cloak will be removed from your eyes and you will see all. What I ask for now is your help in protecting this boy who has become dear to my heart."

Nate nodded again and looked at Little Wolf who smiled. Yes, the boy was beautiful and it was no wonder that Marshall had brought him back to life. But this magic was disturbing despite the wonder, Nate felt scared by the knowledge of its existence. What incredible power was at work here?

"Is…is he still a wolf?" Nate asked.

Marshall nodded. "He is both. You see the circle…this is the boundary of his life as a man. Outside it he must once again be a wolf. He doesn't feel it like you might think, this is not his prison. At home he is free to run as a man or wolf, my land is his domain."

"How long will he remain like this?" Nate asked.

"For as long as I live, or until we find a way for him to have peace. His spirit has no home, Nathaniel…I would not wish that on my worst enemy. In all my years of dealing with the ghosts of our past I have never met anyone quite like Usti Waya. His case will be a major topic of my meeting this evening."

"The other shamans know about him?"

"No…I speak only in the hypothetical, they cannot know."

"Then…why did you tell me?" Nate asked.

"I can tell you, but maybe you should see something first," Marshall said. "Give me your hand."

Nate held out his hand and Marshall grasped it. Watching the expression on Nate's face Marshall slowly moved the hand out over the fire…and held it there. Marshall's lips moved in prayer and he closed his eyes.

Nate felt the heat begin to rise…and then nothing. He looked at his hand for a moment and then looked up at Marshall. It seemed as if time stopped and yet…nothing happened. No pain, no smell of burning flesh, none of that happened, and then Little Wolf placed his hand on top of Nate's.

The vision assaulted Nate's senses. He could hear the screams of anguish in his ears; his eyes beheld a vast darkness. And then suddenly Usti Waya stood before him, a body withered and torn, yet not bleeding. Nate screamed and snapped back from the images in his mind. He withdrew his hand from Marshall's and stared down at the perfectly normal flesh, not a single mark upon it.

"You saw him as I did," Marshall said. "But his spirit held magic, enough to keep him going despite his tragic death. Your spirit holds magic as well, Nathaniel…it will be your choice if it is ever used…I cannot make that choice for you."

Now Nate understood. The fire had not burned him because Marshall had unlocked that spirit within him and allowed the magic to flow. That door was once again shut, and if it opened again it would be by his choice. It was the most frightening thought Nate had ever encountered.


On to Chapter Nine

Back to Chapter Seven

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Nathaniel Smiley is © 2009 by Chris James.
    This work may not be duplicated in any form (physical, electronic, audio, or otherwise) without the author's written permission. All applicable copyright laws apply. All individuals depicted are fictional with any resemblance to real persons being purely coincidental.


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