Chapter 23 #2
Lighting the pipe, White Claw first offered the smoke to the Sun and to the Moon, then to the four directions. Taking up a bit of tobacco, he scattered it to the winds. This done, only then did he take a puff on the sacred pipe.
White Claw passed the pipe to Swift Hawk, who smoked in turn. Swift Hawk then passed the pipe to Angelia.
Me? Angelia silently mouthed the word toward Swift Hawk. He nodded.
She took a puff, and though she might have turned a little greenish in color, she stoically kept the reaction to herself. Soon she passed the pipe back to Swift Hawk, and he, in turn, gave it back to the medicine man.
Another long silence ensued, and then, “Let us speak with an open heart,” said White Claw, “for I know you both have many questions. I will answer them as best I can.” He added, perhaps for Angelia’s benefit, “The pipe ensures that we all speak with a true tongue. No lies may be said once one has smoked the sacred pipe. But come, you have questions. Ask them of me now.”
Swift Hawk was the first one to speak. “Grandfather, I do not understand how I broke the curse. I saw Black Hat in a vision, and I knew then that he was the enemy I needed to aid. To him I was required to show kindness, mercy. Yet in my heart, I sought to kill him, for he was mistreating my wife. I caused my clan much danger, for I risked everything—all my life’s work. ”
Serenely, White Claw nodded. “Why did you do this?”
“Because saving my friend and my wife was more important to me than myself or my shame. It was more vital to aid them than it was to think of my family and clan. I had not a moment in which to think, and in my heart, this was the right thing to do.”
When White Claw glanced toward him, his gaze was wise, yet unassuming. “Was that the only reason?”
“No, I did it because I love her more than I love my own honor.”
White Claw nodded. “Perhaps that is the secret, my son: to love so much that all else fades before that love. Remember that long ago there was no love in us. Had there been love for all living things, our people would not be enslaved.”
Swift Hawk inclined his head silently. White Claw’s words brought on another question. “You say this as though there are still others enslaved in the mist.”
White Claw sat up straighter before he spoke. “You broke the spell for your clan, the Burnt Chest Band of our tribe. There are still three others. But come, do not be sad. The year has not yet passed. Perhaps your brothers in arms will yet succeed as you did today.”
White Claw became silent. Swift Hawk knew he awaited a question from Angelia.
Leaning toward her, Swift Hawk urged her to speak. “If you would like to ask anything, now is the time to question our wise man. For soon, White Claw will return to the other clans who are not yet freed.”
“He will? Then White Claw can move freely in and out of both worlds?”
“Haa’he,” confirmed Swift Hawk. “It is so.”
Swift Hawk watched her from the corner of his eye, watched her swallow hard, watched her as she formed a question. “Mr. Claw, sir, does that mean you will return to the mist?”
“Aaaa, yes. I must.”
“I see,” she said. “Tell me, will these people I have met here today live normal lives now?”
“Aaaa, yes, they will. When the spell was broken, they became free to live the life that was taken from them so long ago.”
“But they will be existing in a different time and in a different place. Might that not be confusing to them?”
“It is possible that it will be,” answered White Claw. “They could perhaps use a teacher. One who knows and understands this world, as well as their own.”
“Do you think so?” Angelia asked. “Why, I could do that. I am a teacher.”
White Claw nodded. “Aaaa, I know. You could help them greatly.” He turned to Swift Hawk. “It is true that they might also benefit from the knowledge of your adopted people, the Cheyenne, my son, if this is agreeable to your wife. You might speak of it between the two of you.”
“Yes. Yes, this would be good.”
“And now,” announced White Claw, “I must go. But before I leave, I would answer any other questions you might put to me, for I would retreat from here with all your doubts at ease.”
“Will you ever be free?” It was Angelia speaking.
White Claw hesitated. “It is possible that sometime in the future, this might come to pass. But until my people are completely freed from the mist, I am needed.”
Angelia nodded. “Then I wish you Godspeed.”
White Claw gazed toward Swift Hawk and lastly at Angelia. “And so I would say to you too, Godspeed.” With no more said than this, White Claw turned the pipe over and let the ashes scatter to the winds.
He arose. Swift Hawk and Angelia followed him up.
“I must go now. You have both done well. Know that in the coming years, the happiness that will be yours is much deserved. Live well, love well.” He drew a deep breath. “And now, I must return.”
Spinning about, he paced away from them, stepping through the grove of cottonwoods, toward the north, the place where his people still dwelled. The sound of happy drums and the voices of many of his own people accompanied him, as though, if they could, their voices would cheer him on his way.
And then there was nothing there, nothing where he had stepped, except the mist.
He was gone.
But Swift Hawk and his wife were very much alive. Swift Hawk’s wound would heal, his people would heal, also, and they would learn to love. For as White Claw had said, had his people’s hearts been filled with love in the past, they might not have ever been enslaved.
Taking Angelia in his arms, Swift Hawk turned to her and kissed her fully on the lips.
“You helped me, my love, when no one else could. If not for you, I do not believe I would have broken the spell. For it was my love for you that transcended all else. In truth, I think that you have not only given me life, you have given my people life.”
Angelia shook her head. “Perhaps. But it was you who accomplished the deed.”
“Not alone. Never alone. Do you know that all my life I have searched for you?”
“As I have for you, my husband.”
He placed his arm around her. “I have learned something. It is my belief that you were sent to me in a vision because together we are stronger than I, alone, could ever be. It was because of you that I began to see, began to feel real love. Know this, my love—all my life, I will admire you. All my life I will love you. To you, I give all of me that there is to give.”
Tears were misting her eyes as she responded. “As I do too. I love you too. Now come, my husband, we have much to do.”
It is said to this very day that White Claw’s prophesy did, indeed, come true. For these two lived the rest of their lives amidst much happiness. But then, perhaps this is the way of things, that as philosophers have told us through the ages, all brave and good people at last find true bliss.