“What do you want to say? Shawnee.”
“My time has been passed, Jonny. I want to go back. Can you do it, Jonny?”
Danny thought; he had a thousand words to say but none of them with a tone of passion. He said, “I understand, Shawnee.”
“Give me back my tree, Jonny.”
“I’ll do.”
“And a favor.”
“I’ll do, my friend.”
“Then, let’s go there three of us, for the final farewell.”
“She has been back to her father’s, in her place of birth, Lexington, close to the forest.” He dialled Eve’s.
“Hi, Eve.”
“Is this you? Danny. I knew you will call.” A shaky feminine voice on the other side of the phone, mixed with tears. “I knew it, I knew it, Danny, we are meant for one another. I saw it again, the dream, tonight. I wonder why the images don’t stay in my mind. Maybe, I shouldn’t name it, by the time I name it, all were washed away. Don’t make fun of me, trust me the Prairie is true.” The tears reached her lips; a rill of salt was dripping on her phone. “I want to come back, Danny.”
“I come to you, want to show you something.”
“Really Danny, so it’s true, you couldn’t stand it without me, could you? Oh, Danny.”
“It would take about four hours or so, I’ll be there in the morning.”
“It is hours past midnight, are you sure? You might get sleepy.”
He hung up. He stood on his feet, looked at the Shawnee for a few seconds then went up the stairs. Still had his favorite clothing as a young, it was wrapped in a white quilt with a green and blue eight-sided star, in the middle of the star, a black and white eagle. Natural handmade leather pants with an orange ribbon around the waist, patterns of brown bears all around. A lightweight leather poncho and deer-leathered moccasin boots. He took off his t-shirt and jeans; put them on. Still, there was something left in the unwrapped quilt, a leather casing with two bands at top and bottom. It was dusty; he didn’t wipe the sacred soil; one band around the orange ribbon, the other around his left thigh. He watched himself into the mirror, a warrior all in brown. He went down the stairs, at the sofa, bent and took long Kentucky knife with his two hands. “The shine will come back, I promise you, my friend,” he said to the silent friend. “Don’t worry, I remember so many times of plunges in flesh.”
Danny took the car key and went out the door. The old black truck was there across the street. He sat in, the old Ford started revving. Soon the car left the small Lafayette, the highway was vacant. He rolled down the window, Shawnee was quiet, cold breeze of fall was caressing his face. The warmth of the old knife on his thigh, the retrospect of battles from hundreds of years ago, as if he was there. ‘Perhaps that is the reason why father did not kill me; he heard the message of soft soil.’
It was early in the morning when he stopped the car in front of Eve’s father house. She was out before honking the horn, smile on her face. She was wearing a simple white color chemise made from thin, flowing material, elbow-length sleeves, V-necked at the top and a purple cashmere shawl as a headdress to covering down the faint lines of her small breasts, with the help of long golden hair. The purple skirt was down to her ankles to show her new white shoes. The dress was in complete harmony with her; elegant body in a delicate dress, a soul as such in her. “Hi, Danny I am so happy, you came…,” Danny interrupted before she could finish, afraid if caught up with the endless narration of her dream.
“Jump in; I want to show you my childhood hideout.”
In the car her face at him, he drove more than an hour until they reached his town of childhood. “We must walk into the forest from here,” he said ignoring her questioning face. As her dress showed, she wasn’t ready for the expedition. She followed him with no complaint; silently. Every now and then the long dress entangled with shrubs. Thorns of bushes stuck to her long dress, taking her back, afraid of her path. One snatched her favorite shawl, a memento. He was fast in the move, she could hardly catch up with him. Her new shoes were ruined, brown sticky clay made it heavy. Her thin skin, an easy meal for forest mosquitoes, a mouthful bite for black flies. One hour passed, the only beauty left on her was the golden hair.
“This is a restricted area in the forest,” She warned the man in fast pace, pointing to a sign. The next hour was tiresome, her body structure wasn’t meant for such a hike; no path on the ground and the bushes were getting denser and nastier. Danny stopped below a thorn tree, raised the branch for her to pass. In contrast to the whole route covered with plants, a large vacant area appeared. An old huge sassafras tree was slanting in the middle of the area. Sun could not see the ground, no plant dared to grow around. Years have passed yet standing in pride high; bones on the ground, a healed cut on the trunk.
“We reached,” pointing to the tree, he said. She got relieved that the ordeal had ended. He stepped forward toward the tree, she followed her. Shawnee was silent. He guided her to lean her back on the slope of the trunk. She wiggled her back to find a smooth texture on the rugged wood, rested, waiting. Looking at Danny’s mouth what would say, wetted her lips; her eyes dark blue in the dull light. He put his right foot sideways on the pair of her shoes shifting his weight on them. Her muddy shoes were pressed down into the soft clay. She felt pain but her interpretation was passion. He placed his left leg against the side of the tree trunk and pressed; her torso caught locked between his heavy built chest and the trunk. She clung to his belt trying vainly to push him back; not enough air could she breathe. He put his left hand on her lips, pressed them hard; her nostrils could get air mixed with the smell of his hand.
Danny drew out the knife with his right hand, placed the tip on soft belly of hers. One push, the blade pierced into the softness. The pain came as a would-be loud scream but the vocal cord agony had no way out. No sound but the muffled shower of blood in her body. “My rust is washing out, the warmth remembers me the past. My old friend, give me another push,” Shawnee broke the silence. Resisting the caresses of flavoured air escaped from her lungs; he turned his face to inhale the dust of the leaves.
“One more push, Jonny, let my grinds feel the bones.”
Danny, took back his body off her, then there was a sudden hurl of his weight forward; the acceleration went into his hand, the pressure on the handle, pushed the knife in strong. Extreme pain, translation of forbidden scream into red streams of pity out her nostrils. The grinds sawed the vertebra passed through the spinal cord; a shower of the crystal fluid bathed the blade. The fluid emptied the pain out; darkness came before her eyes; no sense left, freedom from the cruel world.
“The liquid of her spine is washing the blood off my blade, brings my shine back. Jonny, my tip has touched the bark, the wood reminds me my past. Another push, give me your last strike, send me into the wood, let my blade feels the sap, my tip the heartwood.”
Danny took out the knife out her belly; drew back his body, pressed his left thigh to the side of the trunk, tightened his grip around the handle as if the claws of an eagle on flesh; a sudden thrust on the knife into the opening of the wound. The long knife passed all that had cut before to reach bark, sap and rest in the heartwood. The blade calmed in the river of life inside the tree.
“I had forgotten the taste of the holy water inside, it brings me the message of the soil to my soul; reminiscence of a long time ago battles. Farewell Jonny, my true friend.” Shawnee silenced then.
Danny