Page 77 of The Spirit of the Wolf

“I… I…” She chortled. “I could vow that they…” she hesitated, “…spoke.”

Grey Coyote nodded. “Indeed, they did.”

“Then I am not mad?”

“You are not mad,” Grey Coyote affirmed. “The small wolf is my spirit protector and often speaks to me in vision. What I find curious is that you heard the coyotes, and you saw them, as well as I. This has never happened before.”

Slowly, she nodded. “Never?”

“Not ever.”

“But…was this some sort of a riddle?”

“It was. It is.”

It all seemed a bit much, and placing her hand on Grey Coyote’s arm, she scooted closer to him where he was still squatting upon the ground. She said, “Tell me. Tell me what is going on. I don’t understand what happened. What does this mean?”

Uncertainty, all mixed up with other facial expressions—surprise, fear and love—flitted over Grey Coyote’s countenance. But, at last, he said, “I hesitate to tell you about myself and my duty to my tribe. And yet if you have seen this vision⁠—”

“Was this, which I have this moment seen, what the Indians call a vision?”

“Hau. We have shared a vision. This is rare. Indeed, I have never heard of this being done before now.”

“Yes.”

“In all this time, I have thought that I, alone, must bear this burden, must solve this riddle, but somehow now you are a part of this. I know not how, so I cannot explain your role in this.”

“I see,” she said, though she was unsettled and a little rattled about what she had witnessed. “Since I did hear the words of the coyotes, then I feel it right to ask you to tell me what you do know. What is this?”

“Hau, hau. I will tell you what I know, but you will find it difficult to believe. Even my adopted people, the Assiniboine, would think I had been in the sun too long if I were to speak of the entirety of my life and the task which I must accomplish. And the Assiniboine are a spiritual people, given to belief in the mysteries of the universe.”

“Yes. This is why you have never related to me what the deed is you must accomplish? Because it is fantastic?”

“Hau. What you say is partly true. But perhaps you might recall that a part of the riddle said I alone must solve it.”

“Ah, yes.” She nodded. “I do remember it.”

He inclined his head. “I have believed that to share my problem with anyone—be it you or even a medicine man—would be as to betray my people, not the Assiniboine, but those who are trapped in the mist.”

“In the mist? I don’t understand.”

“Nor should you. I will explain. The Assiniboine are my adopted people. The people of my birth are of the Blackfoot tribe. They are the Lost Tribe, the people of the mist. Because of a great wrong they committed to the children of the Thunderer, they were cursed by the Creator to live forever in what is called the mist. Their existence is but a half existence, neither dead, nor real. But once in each new generation, a boy is chosen from each band of the tribe. He is charged with the duty to go out into the world, to learn of the environment around him, and to undo the curse, if he can. This is my purpose. The riddle you heard is my clue. The man I seek possesses something that should help me end this spell. And once I find him, to undo this riddle, I must correctly guess what this is that he possesses. I must act on what I find, and if my deeds are done in the right way, I will end the curse for my people.”

Marietta didn’t move, didn’t say a word. Of course, it all made sense now. All his actions, even his delaying her and keeping her with him, was because of this, his duty. It explained much. However, it left her with questions, too.

She asked, “The one coyote, the female, said I am now a part of this. Is it true?”

He paused. “It is the first time I have been told this piece of the riddle. Because this has never been stated before, I can only tell you this: for my people, a vision is the phenomenon which gives a man—or a woman—purpose, it is the event most precious in life. It shows one what he must attain if he is to live a good life. If you ask me whether or not a vision shows truth, I can only say that a vision is the Creator’s way of communicating to you.”

“I see.” She nodded. “And of course if this is from God or as you call Him, the Creator, then it would be truth.”

“Hau. However, I do not know what part you are to play in this.”

“Nor do I,” she said. “Nor do I. But I can say that I begin to understand you a little better.”

“Waste, this is good. And now I think I can tell you a little more: on the night when I won you in the game of chance, the wind whispered your name to me. But I didn’t put the name to you until you told me in English what you are called. I knew then I could not let you leave me. But I couldn’t tell you why. I regret if I have caused you pain.”

“Oh, how strange this all is for me, and I thank you for the apology. It begins to make sense.” She frowned. “Tell me, the male coyote stated that the enemy is near, and the time to end the curse is at hand.”