Chapter one
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Secrecy. I feel it in the air today, thick as the silky fog that is drifting up outside the window from the disgusting swamp down the hill. Most of it is emanating from me, as I creep past an open doorway into a deserted room. Draped on the back of a store bought chair is an old blanket, its hand woven surface covered in intricate designs in a huge variety of color. I pick it up gently, slowly, with reverence. A flash of white paper catches my eye. Rage fills my heart, brimming and flowing over. It is a price tag. I don’t even look at it, but tear it off the corner of the blanket, ripping it to shreds which fall gently to the wooden floor. Tears fall from my eyes as I fold the blanket up gently and wrap it in tissue paper. They will not sell this one. My mind is made up. For a minute I had thought… but it was too late, and there was no going back.
My hands shake as I put in the freeze dried supplies I have been collecting for the past month. I also put in a water purifier, and a small mess kit. These things barely take up a corner in the roomy backpacking pack I got from the store. I run out of the house to the shed where I grab a sleeping bag, a lantern, and a tarp. I think about a tent, but we don’t have one small enough to fit in my pack. I don’t bring a flashlight or a lantern, but I do bring a couple old candles and a few boxes of matches. I sigh. There is nothing else to bring. I don’t want to bring anything that will connect me with the white men, but if I am to survive with none of the survival skills my ancestors were proud of, I will need help. I pick up a small and battered first aid manual, and a first aid kit. I will have to learn the ways of the woods on my own. I also pick out a large handbook having something to do with plant identification. Maybe it will help me identify edibles. I am almost ready to go, but there is one more thing. I creep slowly upstairs into the attic, pausing only slightly when an ominous creak sound from beneath my foot. Soon I am in the place where all of the old things are kept. My eyes drift over a drinking horn, a carving knife, a small totem of the kind that is worn around the neck. There is an ancient saddle in the corner, along with a musket, a saddle blanket and a beaded bag. Many of the items have price tags on them, just another reminder as to why I am leaving in the first place. After a few minutes of just gazing around the small space I select my trinkets. A knife with a bone handle, delicately carved, a small clay bowl with the markings of my ancestors, and the tote, I noticed earlier, its features worn with age. I start out of my reverie at a loud snore from the floor underneath my feet. It’s time to go.
I run down the stairs and out the door with no cause for quietness anymore, stopping just once briefly to pick up my half empty pack. A shout rings out behind me, but I don’t care. This isn’t how I imagined going away, but it will do. No longer will I do their housework so they can sell my possessions for their own good. I think of the items left in the attic, of the totem bouncing around on my neck. I regret that I could not save them, but perhaps they will go to museums or other agencies. I push these thoughts out of my mind, trying to focus all of my energy on making my legs pump faster. I am a good runner, and even with a five pound bag flopping around on my back I was making pretty good speed. I stopped once to look back at the place I called my home for so long, where one light had come on, and figures were wandering around behind the curtain shade. I shake my head determinedly and start to walk again, heading off into the dark woods beyond.
I travel for a few hours before becoming exhausted. The nighttime fog is starting disappear, telling me that dawn is not that far off. I sit down on a large log so sit and contemplate my situation. The seconds stretch into minutes, and soon I am in deep thought. The light rises above the horizon, and with a jolt I remember to say the Morning Prayer. My jeans are torn and muddy from last night’s trek, and I realize I have forgotten to pack very many clothes. I did bring the Native American clothes that had been on display at the house, but other than that I have these jeans and the t-shirt I am wearing, along with a sweatshirt and a waterproof jacket. \
Reluctantly I stand up and begin to walk again, my muscles stiff and cold. I will have to find somewhere to set up camp tonight, far enough away from the house in a place where I could hide. It was my goal to learn the ways of my ancestors without contact with humans, so I wanted a place as far away from civilization as possible. As I walk in the forest, I feel my frustration and anger disappearing, and I revel in the tiny sounds of the woods. The birds chirp over my head, the dead leaves crunch under my feet. The sun rises overhead and I begin to feel hungry. The small canteen I brought with me is almost empty, and I listen hopefully for the sound of rushing water. Surprisingly, I am soon rewarded. I break through a leafy branch that seems intent on strangling me, and I come into view of the water. It isn’t a stream as I first thought, but a large lake with water rippling along the shore. The bank is hard backed dirt, and I can see slight imprints were the animals had come to drink. I walk back from the water away, where there is a place full of grass and birds, flat and perfectly round. I have read of things like these, dried up lakes caused by dammed rivers and beaver dams. It would make a perfect place for my camp. I set my pack down with a thump and look around at my new, temporary home. I roll out my sleeping bag and find stones for a fire ring. I lay out a tarp beneath my sleeping bag. The sun is directly over my head now, and my hunger is increasing rapidly along with the beads of sweat traveling down my face. I walk down to the lake with the purifier in hand, and pause to dunk my head before I use the purifier to fill my canteen. I walk slowly back to the field, my hair dripping down my back and I smile.
For dinner I had part of a package of freeze dried Mac-n-cheese. In other circumstances, it would have tasted disgusting, but here it was delicious. I had started a fire with my matches, and now was watching the sparks dance upward into the black sky, the fire’s warmth running in waves all around me, deliciously comfortable in the cold fall air. I crawled into my sleeping bag after throwing dirt on the fire, listening to the crackling of the embers as I fell asleep.
I woke early, sometime around four in the morning, before it was light. There were noises all around me, and I felt fear creeping steadily up my cheat and into my head. I suddenly remembered that I had left half a package of Mac-n-cheese out and something big seemed to be enjoying it. I huddled closer to the fire, fingering the totem that was still on my neck nervously between shaking digits. I slid it off my neck so I could hold it close to my face, trying to block out all thoughts of anything but the animal carved of wood on the twine. Suddenly a twig snapped on the other side of the field. I couldn’t resist looking up and there, seemingly carved of moonlight was a deer, it’s beautifully delicate legs lifted daintily one after another as it traveled the length of the field towards me. Then it was running, and I felt a delicate sense of contentment and sleepiness traveling over me. The last thing I saw was the totem, still held by my hands in front of my face, the little wooden head seeming to nod. The carved wooden deer on the string seemed to comfort me, and as the silver doe disappeared into the forest behind me, I fell into blissful nothingness, a smile upon my face.
I woke in the morning with a start, remembering almost immediately. I roll out of my sleeping bag and head over to the place, some ten yards away were I had deposited my supplies. Sure enough, the foil wrapping that had previously contained Mac-n-cheese, servings for four, had been torn to shreds, and little crumbs of uncooked noodles were scattered around the field. I sighed, and then laughed. I hoped I would see the beautiful deer again, but for now I would be content to stay here, living on my own, learning about my heritage.
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