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Lavinia sighed. The air was still filled with the aromas of the food that had been cooked earlier by the women. She was full, yet comfortably so, and she felt sleepy. She hoped she could stay awake until the stories were all told.
She still tasted the bear ribs she’d eaten for dinner. She had hesitated before taking her first bite, for she had never eaten bear meat before.
But she’d found that it tasted better than any other meat she had ever eaten. She had also enjoyed the hot corn cakes that had been covered with a jelly she was told was called conte.
When she had asked one of the women how this jelly was made, the woman had eagerly responded that it was made from the roots of a wild rose bush, which grew on Mystic island. The roots were carefully ground into a pulp, to which water was added. The paste was then air dried and saved for later use. The woman explained that she mixed the powdered root with water and honey to make the delicious jelly.
Lavinia planned to make her own conte one day, to show Wolf Dancer that she could be a good cook. She had just never had to cook while living first with her parents in Atlanta, and then with her wealthy husband.
But now, away from all of those luxuries, she would enjoy learning such womanly skills.
At that moment an elderly man stepped from his home near the central fire. His gray hair dragged on the ground behind him as he walked to a small platform, upon which were thick bear pelts.
The children scattered and found their places sitting on blankets that had been spread earlier.
Some mothers had given their children netting to tuck around themselves, so they would not be bitten by mosquitoes.
Lavinia had to smile when she saw Dorey and Twila sharing mosquito netting with the other girls. Running Bear and Deer Shadow were sitting nearthem with braves of their own age, who chose not to use netting.
Lavinia could only surmise that they had refused the netting because they thought it might make them look weak in the eyes of the girls.
“The Spirit Talker is such an old man,” Lavinia whispered to Wolf Dancer as the storyteller made himself comfortable on the platform. It was raised high above, so that everyone would have to look up at him as he told his stories.
“Most Spirit Talkers are elderly, for they must have lived a long life in order to have knowledge of all things,” Wolf Dancer said just loud enough for Lavinia to hear. “Our Spirit Talker is a legendary storyteller, and all listen to him in respectful silence.” “What is his true name?” Lavinia asked, watching the elderly man as he tucked his buckskin robe around him, his legs folded beneath him on the platform.
She was fascinated by his long, long hair and watched as the Spirit Talker wound it into a tall bun atop his head, securing it with short sticks stuck into it.
“He was born with the name Star Gazer. That is because his mother gave birth to him outside her home beneath the stars. She wanted to be sure that when he opened his eyes for the first time, he would first see the stars,” Wolf Dancer explained. “His mother had had a vision of her firstborn being the village Spirit Talker when he grew into adulthood. She felt that the name Star Gazer fit the child whose life was already mapped out for him.”
“What if he had not wanted to be the storyteller when he grew into a man?” Lavinia asked. “What then would his mother have done?”
“There was no question that he would be as his mother willed him to be,” Wolf Dancer said. “You see, it was said that Star Gazer felt the calling himself the first time he heard stories being told around the night fire by our people’s storyteller.”
“What happened to that man?” Lavinia asked softly, hoping she wasn’t disturbing anyone around her with her curiosity about Wolf Dancer’s people.
“The one who was our people’s Spirit Talker was already elderly, yet he lived long enough for Star Gazer to reach the age that he could take over his duties,” Wolf Dancer said. “You see, each Spirit Talker must do his best to retell the stories as close to the original version as possible. It is a great responsibility, and the best storytellers are greatly admired.”
“It sounds like he might be as much admired and loved as the village chief,” Lavinia said, hoping she wasn’t offending Wolf Dancer.
“A storyteller and chief are both loved and admired, but never in the same way,” Wolf Dancer said.
He was not insulted by Lavinia’s comparison, for he, too, would have wondered the same were he not Seminole.
“Star Gazer has devoted his life to the Wind Clan, just as I have, and for that he has earned our people’s love,” he said. “He keeps our history and traditions alive. But a chief is responsible for the future of his clan. Through prayer, sacrifice and careful thought, he guides the lives of his people. Thestoryteller prays to the Master of Breath, the same as a chief, but there is one difference. If necessary, the chief must be willing to lay down his life if such be necessary for the survival of his people, w
hereas nothing akin to that is ever required of a Spirit Talker.”
“You…would…sacrifice yourself?” Lavinia asked, paling at the thought.
“Yes, if it meant the survival of my people,” Wolf Dancer said thickly.
When he saw how Lavinia’s face drained of color, he smiled and reached beneath the blanket, taking her the hand. “No sacrifice will have to be made here on Mystic Island, so do not fret, my woman, that our future together might be endangered,” he said.
“Our…future…?” Lavinia asked, her heart racing at the implication of what he had just said.
“Our future as man and wife,” Wolf Dancer said, and noted that her eyes widened even more. “You will marry me, will you not?”
Lavinia was stunned speechless by the sudden question, although she had dreamed of this moment after realizing the nature of their feelings for one another.
