Writingcamp + The Shifter's Curse

Chapter 1 My Past, Year 1760                 My arrow flew through the air. I missed by half a foot as my arrow went into the tree just behind the back of the young six-point mule deer. My head dropped in disappointment. Adohi didn’t make a sound behind me. The world felt as if it was in slow motion as the deer spooked and ran. I turned around to look at my friend behind me. He showed no emotion as he started to walk past me. He was headed to get my arrow that had missed its target. I shook my head in frustration. I knew that I could hunt, and I wanted help from no one. I had shot deer in the past with perfect accuracy. A trait that I admired from Adohi was that he never insulted me or downed to me even though he could hunt better than I could. Although, I seethed inside when he never missed his shot. I had considered asking him to teach me his way but decided against it.                 The twigs crunched under Adohi’s bare feet as he approached the tall oak tree, grabbing the arrow and jerking it from the bark. We stood in a deep green part of the forest a few miles from our village. Adohi was my best friend and full-blooded Cherokee, whereas I was half Cherokee half white man. It had been my task for today to bring meat home to the village. I had asked Adohi to accompany me. It was always the smart task not to go alone. There are many predators in these woods. We were in an area of what the Cherokee people referred to as the ‘Shaconage’. Translated to English, it meant ‘place of blue smoke’. The white man referred to it as the smoky mountains. In these woods were bobcats, cougars, poisonous snakes, and wild boars, all of which could be dangerous. The Cherokee considered this place sacred for reasons I will most likely hear about again from my uncle. I rolled my eyes at the thought. Adohi eyed me as he walked back with my arrow.  He had no hair except for the area on the top back part of his head that he kept decorated with black and red feathers. He wore red robe like clothing. A gust of wind hit him causing the feathers to sway as he neared me. He held out his hand offering me the arrow. I took it and placed it back in my pouch. Adohi silently turned around and started observing the ground and nature around us. He was looking for a trail. I knew he would find it.                 For the next hour we spent our time tracking down the young deer. I said nothing when Adohi drew his own arrow and bow and made quick work of killing it. We approached our kill, and I walked past Adohi to clean the animal. As I was slicing it open, my hand slipped, and I accidentally cut open the top of my hand. I growled in aggravation and stood up immediately ripping off a piece of my wool shirt to wrap the wound to stop the bleeding. Adohi crouched down finishing my work while I was attending to my wound. We had another three hours walk ahead of us to make our way home. So, I stopped at a small creek on our journey back to clean the blood off my hands. As I peered down at my reflection, I noticed that my long black hair was dirty and needed cleaning, so I dashed my head with water. I looked up in a relaxed state watching the small creek run. The water had a hypnotizing appearance as it flowed down and around the rocks that were trying to block its path. I looked back down observing my reflection. My blue eyes mirrored back at me, reminding me of what my uncle had always told me. Uncle Uku told me that I got my blue eyes from my father. I shook away the memory wrapping up my hair out of my way. Adohi stood behind me.      “Peter, the sooner we get back, the better.” He said. “The village needs the food.” He offered me a hand to help me stand to my feet. I took it reluctantly. With a smile, Adohi pat me on the back. We grew up together. In a sense, we were as brothers would be to each other. “When we get back to the village, you should get Tsula to look at that cut.” He told me gesturing to my fresh wound. I nodded at his proposal. It was the best course of action. Tsula was Adohi’s cousin and the ‘Ghigau’ to the village. Ghigau were the women healers. It was a great honor for women to gain this name in the Cherokee culture. I decided that when we got back, I would permit her to dress the wound.         We walked through the forest together taking turns dragging the deer with a leather strap made by Adohi’s mother. We made our way through the forest averting the sticks and stones as best as we could. We didn’t want to catch the carcass on any debris on the forest ground. The longer we walked, the more tired we both began to feel. Dragging a heavy deer for miles took its toll on the both of us even though we were taking turns. I was relieved when we finally started to get close to home. There was a clear line of smoke coming up into the sky ahead signaling the location of the village.        The village itself was more than one third of a mile wide. Around the edges stood 32 hand-built huts. Some huts were houses, while others had different purposes. A large hut stood at the other end of the village. It was the biggest hut of them all. It was built to hold meetings for all the villagers to gather together, and there were around 300 people residing in our village.         When we got within eyesight of the village women, many came running to us to retrieve our kill. It was the duty of the women in the tribe to prepare the food. My uncle Uku, the peace chief, stood at the entrance to his hut. He wasn’t smiling, but I could see the pride in his eyes. My gut twisted with emotion, and I looked over at Adohi knowing that uncle Uku believed that I had killed the deer. I knew there would be shame on his face when I told him that I hadn’t fulfilled the request he had asked of me. As the women grabbed hold of the strap connected to the carcass, I saw the smile on Adohi’s face. I twitched a little bit but managed to conceal my anger. Why wasn’t I able to be what my tribe needed me to be? I knew I had been capable of shooting that deer. My aim had been true, but yet I had missed. Had it been the wind?      I looked up to see my uncle Uku approaching us. Dread came over me, and I looked away. I had great respect for my uncle. He had raised me after the smallpox had taken my parents as a child. I wanted nothing more than to be what he needed me to be for our tribe. He was an older man and extremely wise. He was my mother’s father’s brother. So technically he was my great uncle. I hoped one day that I was able to live up to what he needed me to be. I didn’t have much memory of my parents. The main memory that I had was the ritual after their death. I couldn’t recall the entire ritual; just the part where everyone was singing their names over and over and over until they were unable to sing anymore. After this memory, I was unable to attend most of the rituals for our dead, as it reminded me of my pain as a child. My uncle considered it a great disrespect that I never attended, but I always considered it the best course of action.      Uncle Uku was dressed in the normal attire of a peace chief. He wore Cherokee beads around his neck, a white long sleeve wool shirt, a sash over his shoulder, buckskin pants, and decorative dressings on the back of his head. The dressings were huge just various types of feathers. The most respected men in the tribe wore feathers. Uncle Uku had gifted black and red feathers to Adohi after he had provided so much meat for the tribe. In truth, I envied Adohi’s skill greatly.      Uku offered a hand to me to congratulate me on my kill. When I couldn’t meet his eyes, he looked to Adohi who nodded with a hard expression on his face. He understood the situation without my having to admit it. The disappointment that I expected to be there was clear, but not obvious to everyone around us.      We watched as the women dragged away the deer in a hurried state. I could hear some of the children crying in the distance. Adohi had been right. The village had needed food badly. The growing of crops this past season had not gone very well. The rains had not come as often causing the soil to be dry. So, the village relied on the hunters to gather the meat. Uncle Uku nodded at us prospectively, turned on his heel and walked away. I couldn’t decide if it was worse or better that he had said nothing. I found that his silence cut deeper than a scolding.      Adohi and I now stood alone. He turned to me placing both his hands on my shoulders.      “It’s going to be alright.” It was difficult for me not to shake away his embrace on my shoulders. I knew he was only trying to encourage me because he was my friend. He had no interest in gloating. “Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to go and find Tsula now.” He released my shoulders gesturing to my hand that was still bleeding through the wrap. The cut had been extensively deep. I nodded without responding and headed towards the village.      I observed the other tribe members as I passed them. Some women were out weaving blankets for the winter that was coming. While others were working on the meat and carcass that we provided for them. The younger women were trying to attend to the children that were throwing themselves to the dirt in screaming tantrums. There were still other hunters yet to come back. Uncle Uku had sent more than just me and Adohi out today. Some were fishing, while others were hunting smaller game like rabbits, and raccoons. I passed more women to my right. They were weaving new baskets to hold supplies. Our tribe stayed busy. Everyone had a part to play in the struggles for survival.      Uncle Uku wasn’t the only chief in the village. He was what was called the peace chief. There was also a war chief. The war chief would be the one to take command in emergencies in situations such as another tribal attack. I was passing him now. He was sitting on a bench smoking his pipe with his woman next to him. He was slightly taller than my uncle. He was 20 years younger too. He was built and strong and a skilled warrior. I nodded to him respectfully, and he nodded back in acknowledgement.      I was now approaching Tsula’s hut. Everyone’s house was nearly the same size. The walls of the huts were built with wood for framing. The framing was stuck down into the ground. Smaller branches were then weaved through the stakes around the building. After this step, the structure of the roof is created. There was always a hole left in the center of the roof to allow for ventilation. Hay and straw was laid on the roof in a neatly fashion. And finally, the last step was to cover the walls with mixtures of mud, clay and moss. The doors to the huts were all the same; rectangular and well-shaped. There was never anything blocking the door unless a bad storm was rolling in.       As I stepped inside, I noticed that Tsula was dressing the wound of a 10 year old boy that I know of. He went by the name Yoka. His family’s hut was 4 spaces down from mine. Tsula smiled at him warmly. Stains from fresh tears marked his face. Tsula’s eyes alit when she looked up noticing me come inside. They turned to concern when she looked down and saw that I had a blood stained cloth wrapped around my hand. Tsula and the boy sat on a bench next to each other. He had a small gash when his knee. Tsula was an expert in handling wounds. The art had been passed on from her mother to her.      I stood watching her. Her warm smile towards the boy had a calming effect for the upset child. She was very good with children. Then again, most women in the tribe were. But there was something about the way her eyes dazzled when she was helping someone. I admired her for this. I grew up with Tsula and Adohi. Although Adohi was my best friend, Tsula was always with us. Her hair was long, straight, and black as coal. Her skin and dark tint to it, and her eyes were chocolate brown. She stood showing the boy that he was all finished. She wore a buckskin shirt, and a straight buckskin skirt that came to her knees. She also wore moccasins made from the same fabric on her feet. Around her neck dangled a long string of Indian beads of many colors.      The boy bolted past me happily. I turned around and watched him as he ran straight to his friends who were playing with sticks and stones in the grass.      “What did you do this time?” She looked at me with a half-smile and a single raised eyebrow. She gestured for me to sit on the bench as she turned around to grab more supplies from her baskets.      “I cut myself with my hunting knife today.” To me, the injury wasn’t a big deal, but all injuries have the potential to be dangerous, and I trusted Tsula with my life. She turned back around with the things that she needed and began unwrapping my hand. She gasped when she saw the severity of the wound. I had not realized that I had cut all the way to my knuckle bone. And now, she was going to have to sew my hand up. I signed. Today was not an easy day for me. She sewed up my hand with a needle and long hair pulled from the tail of a horse. Horse hair was commonly used to sell up open wounds, as it is strong. Donkey hair is sufficient as well.      I watched her closely noticing her subtle beauty. Her hair, which was long, fell past her shoulders as she worked. She cared very much about what she did for the tribe. She had saved many of us from death. She made remedies for illnesses, treated wounds, and helped others with emotional problems as well. Our tribe is very dependent upon her. She is admirable.      “So, what animal did you and Adohi bring home today?” She didn’t look at me when she asked the question. She continued sewing up my hand while making conversation. When I didn’t answer her, she stopped, and her eyes trailed up to me meeting mine. My total silence gave away my frustration. She knew me all too well. “What happened?” She asked me.      There was a feeling I had when I was around Tsula. I had always felt like I could be open with her. I knew that she wasn’t going to think less of me for certain things. Adohi didn’t think less of me either. But there was something about Tsula that I couldn’t describe. I decided to tell her what happened.      “The chief asked me to bring in a kill today, and I failed. I wasn’t able to make the shot. Adohi did it.” I didn’t feel angry when I was telling her about today. I felt as if a weight was coming off my chest. I hadn’t realized she was finished sewing my hand. She was already reaching down to wipe an herbal supplement over the stitches. She grabbed a fresh wool wrap and intricately rewrapped my hand making sure to cover up every part of the wound.      “Maybe you’re not meant to be a good hunter.” She said.      I looked at her in utter shock. How could she have just said that to me? Anger surged inside me. And for the first time, she made me feel real anger towards her. She realized her mistake when she saw the look in my eyes. I stood up pulling my hand from her grasp. I was not staying in here with her any longer. I turned to head out the door.      “Wait! Peter! Stop!” She yelled after me. I halted for a moment, but that’s all I was giving her. “What I mean to say is I believe you are meant for more. I believe you have a stronger path ahead of you.” I turned my body around towards her completely looking into her eyes searching them to see if she was being honest. I saw no deception. What was it that she saw in me that I couldn’t see myself? There was one thing about Tsula that was true. She was unlike any other woman in this tribe. There is more to her than just the healer and a friend. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to respond to what she said. So, I decided to just walk away. I decided that I was going to go down to the river to see how the fishing was coming along. Sometimes the men fished close to the tribe. The river was not far from the tribal houses.      As I neared the river, the most beautiful harmonic voice hit my ears. The sound was intoxicating. I slowed my pace searching for its origin. It was coming from the river. It was a voice I had never heard before. My eyes wandered over the glistening water beyond the trees. The sound hadn’t stopped. It hummed and sang like the exquisite sounds of the happiest bird. I took a few steps closer to the river getting a clearer view. It was then that I saw her. She was short, skinny, and gorgeous. She had hair that was so blonde that it reflected off the sun. It was wavy and vibrant. Her skin was porcelain white. I had not seen very many white women in my life. But this was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. I stood there for a time in ahh. I couldn’t bring myself to move.      I heard a twig snap behind me, and I jumped and spun around to see Tsula walking away with her head down. I hadn’t known that she had followed me. I watched her leave without saying anything. My gaze was drawn back over to the mysterious woman singing at the river, before I myself turned and headed back to the village. I was going to find out who she was.