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As it grew closer, he began to wonder what his grandfather would think about his bringing a white woman to Shadow Island. Never had he treated anyone with white skin before.
Would he think it wrong of Wolf Hawk to ask this of him? Or would he understand the feelings that Wolf Hawk had for the woman?
Almost delirious now with her fever, Mia whispered, “Papa…Mama…I shall soon join you.”
Chapter Eigh teen
The locked drops rising in a dew
Limpid as spirits.
Many stones lay dense and expressionless,
Round about.
I didn’t know what to make of it!
—Sylvia Plath
As Wolf Hawk made his way toward Shadow Island, Mia subsided into a semiconscious state.
The splash of the water from his paddle made her believe that she was on the river with her family again, in their scow, happy and laughing together before her father’s heart had become a problem and before Mia had grown tired of river travel.
The rocking of the boat lulled her into wonderful memories of being with her parents again, while occasional drops of water against her fevered brow felt cool and refreshing.
If she listened hard enough, she could actually hear her mother’s sweet laughter and her father tapping his pipe empty of tobacco against the sides of the scow after finishing a lengthy smoke.
She could even smell the distinctive scent of of the tobacco he had used. It always reminded her of sweet apples in the autumn.
“We are at the island now,” Wolf Hawk said, breaking into Mia’s memories.
She opened her eyes, but she could barely see Wolf Hawk as he leapt over the side of the canoe. He waded through the shallow water, shoving the canoe onto the sandy shore.
He came to her and gazed into her eyes, concerned when he saw how bloodshot they were, and that she seemed hardly able to keep them open.
“You are going to be alright,” Wolf Hawk quickly reassured her. He reached a gentle hand to her hot cheek, where her flesh was free of the terrible rash. “My grandfather Shaman will make it so.”
“I…I…have never been…this…ill,” Mia managed to say.
She was fighting to stay conscious. She wanted to be awake when the Shaman began working his magic on her. She wanted to be aware of what he did.
Although she trusted Wolf Hawk with every fiber of her being now, she still recalled how she had heard men laughing and calling Indian Shamans witch doctors who practiced voodoo on their people when they were ill.
“You will soon be well,” Wolf Hawk said, gently lifting her from the canoe.
He was Mia’s protector now, and he would make certain she allowed him to be the one who looked out for her and keep her safe from all harm, forevermore.
Mia drifted in and out of consciousness, but she was aware of Wolf Hawk’s muscled arms as he lifted her gently from the canoe.
She was aware, too, that he was not walking as he carried her to his grandfather’s home, but running. She knew that he was truly concerned about her, and wanted to get her help as soon as possible.
She could not help loving him for that. And as he carried her through a grove of wolf willows, which glowed eerily in the moonlight as a slow fog came creeping upon the land, she began to feel more comfortable about what was happening.
She did trust Wolf Hawk.
And she knew that whatever his grandfather Shaman might do in his effort to make her well, she would accept it.
At this moment in time, she had only Wolf Hawk as her protector. She now trusted him implicitly.
