The Search

The journey begins and his only companion is Grief

The moon rose, and the sun followed for two full days.  Grief, my companion pressed me to keep walking. A slight breeze walked ahead of me preparing the woods for my passing. Dog and Cloud, my pale tan painted pony, trailed behind me.  Finally, the pain in my feet grew greater than the loss of my people, and I came to a stop. 

My thoughts wandered back to my village as I returned every one to their own dwelling.  Each of them was carefully tucked beneath their blanket. Then with my pony loaded down, I started my walk and never looked back. There was no need to look back their images were all around me.

Turning to face Cloud he stopped walking. I stroked his neck. "I'm sorry old horse, but I cannot take another step." My stomach protested loudly, but my companion would not let me eat.

I climbed on the litter Cloud pulled behind him. I closed my eyes and dog laid down beside me.   He was more coyote than dog, with a wild heart and the instincts to match. Mostly, he kept me from feeling all alone.  Sleep swept over me. With a sudden jarring motion, Cloud continued our journey to, nowhere. His gentle stride pulled be back to many yesterdays, all of them happy.

Images swam the stream of my memory like late summers salmon compelled to return to the place of their birth. I struggled to wake and free myself from the torment of death shadows. The happy days blended and mixed with the carnage I found. All I wanted was to wake.

A man's battle-cry flooded my mind. The scream grew louder. I made myself wake, rolled off the travois and landed on my feet. With blade in hand, I searched for the fight. Truth rushed over me the screams were mine. I fell to my knees and for the first time cried. 

Women's tears are endless, but men have only so many. As my last tear fell I spied my weapon.

I grabbed my long-gun and took off looking for dinner. The sun hung low, a soft shadow fell across the woods. I faced the stream with the days fading light and posed beside a great tree. Then I waited. The memory of my father waited with me, and I Whispered to him. "So do you think a deer will come," but he had nothing to say back to me. 

 Deer tracks told me they drink here. Evening's shadow thickened. Motion caught my eye a small rabbit hid under a skirted cedar. He nervously twitched his ear as I lowered my long-gun.  My blade cut the air and pinned my dinner to the ground.  I shouldered my weapon and made camp.

Soon a warm glowing fire bloomed all around me.  I watched stars appear and wondered if my wife and son could see me. The thought of them standing there made me rise to my feet. The breeze that walked with me all the day long went to bed, and the forest grew still. The smell of rabbit rubbed in sage enraged my hunger. However, I ate with no satisfaction, then slept without thought.

Reviews

[barleygirl]

This is some of the most brilliant writing on this website, for sure. I admire you greatly for the gracefulness of your descriptions & how you depict each critter & person with loving care. Beyond your literal storyline (always strong & cohesive), the tenor of your writing suggests the loving respect that Natives were known for & which our world is sorely lacking these days (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[Cherrie Palmer]

I'm glad you're liking this, story. I like how he is the only character. Even though so much is mixed in with him.
I was worried the one man show would get boring. Thank you for your generous compliment. Eventually I'm going to add on to this. But I still have a bathroom and hallway to paint. I can't seem to stop myself.

[barleygirl]

The way you depict animals, they are also characters. I never felt this was a story about one character!

[Cherrie Palmer]

I'm glad to hear that. I hoped it would read that way.

[Shep]

I literally ate this story up and mouthed at rabbit roasting on the fire. I could feel the breeze in the trees and the cold and the pain the character was feeling of his loneliness. Loving the length of this chapter as well means you are a true writer willing to go the distance to feed us. Nicely done.

[Cherrie Palmer]

Thank you, this story is one of my favorites. I'm in the middle chapter 4. The Foundling, I haven't decided the path for the end of the chapter.

[Cherrie Palmer]

I had never considered naming him, until this chapter and the wind seemed to travel with him, I wanted this to be a constant in his life.

[Coyote Poetry]

I love how you describe each situation. Had the feel of private conversation shared with a friend. You made the story come alive to the reader. Thank you Cherrie for sharing the amazing chapter.
Coyote

[Cherrie Palmer]

I do want the story to have the feel of him sharing it with a friend.

[Coyote Poetry]

You did Cherrie.

[Neville]

These words flowed seamlessly from your first chapter Death Dance and were just as much enjoyed.. now that is a compliment if ever there was.. I often get bored when reading lengthy posts.. not necessarily because the post is boring but because I struggle to remember details that I might wish to pick up and comment upon.... these fine words are too good for that.. like I said perfect flow.. the length was just right and the story line gripping.... I shall defo read on.... Damn good knife thrower, I must say... All Good Things Cherrie.. N

[Cherrie Palmer]

We use to go to a festival with a wold word flare for skills people no longer have. We watched a group of men displaying great skills with knives and I always wanted to put that level of skill in a story.
I think I'll keep this going until either he finds a home or joins his family.

[Neville]

I sincerely hope you do that... either would be a fitting way to end such a story... wish I had seen that guy throwing knives too.

[Cherrie Palmer]

And I'm with ya i hate long passages. I like to show each chapter as an event. Almost a stand alone story in itself.

[Neville]

you do that very well indeed.