Summer of 1770

A’asiatani’s hands shook. Time was slipping away, and the muskets of the Over-the-Mountain Men were getting closer.

The trees told him. He had been communing with a Tulip Poplar when the roots shook and the vibrations of boots passed through to him. Not like a sound, but a shaking in his bones. He’d felt it before.

His urgency was cut off when a woman came yelling at him. He recognized her from the village. But her eyes were strange and yellow. She had changed since he saw her.

A’asiatani was a bit upset at his patient. “You should not be up. Please, go back home to bed.”

Her husband staggered up behind her, a hatchet in one hand and a sack hanging from the other. Blood ran down his arm, dripping into it.

Before A’asiatani could speak up, her husband hurled the hatchet into his wife’s back. The woman hissed at A’asiatani and dropped just a few paces away. He thought her tongue looked thin like a viper.

Horrified, he yelled, “What are you doing?” He stopped short of helping her as the woman’s body shuddered unnaturally. Her husband slipped to his knees.

“Uktena. She came for payment.” The man spoke through ragged breaths.

A’asiatani shuffled to him close by since his wife was obviously dead. “What do you mean? It came from the Hollow?” Time was not on his side.

The husband grabbed the seer’s sleeve. “I made a bargain. I didn’t know the cost. It chose her.”

“You made a bargain with Uktena, and it possessed your wife to collect.” His response was sharp and angry. “The queen. She never allows planting anything without reaping.”

“Because of the drought, we were desperate for a good harvest.” He laughed softly to himself. “Yes, we went to the Hollow.”

The seer’s patience had run out. “The Uneguh (white people) are coming! We have to go!”

His face pointed to his wife’s body. “Using my wife, Uktena stopped them. All of them are dead. I had to come after her to put an end to it.”

A’asiatani blinked slowly, “There is always a cost.” He tried to help him, but he’d lost too much blood. The man died where he sat.

The orphan’s fingers reached from inside the blanket to see out. A’asiatani could see the blood on the toddler’s blanket. His plans changed in that instance.

“There, there, little one. You are safe now.” After ensuring the boy had no injuries, the healer settled him in the hut for safe keeping. A’asiatani arranged the bodies together. He thought it was curious that the woman had so many musket wounds and the one hatchet in her back. How had she made it this far with so many wounds? He thought.

A series of men and women emptied from the path to the main village interrupting his examination.

“Are we safe, healer?” One man said.

“For now, yes.” He rose to face them. “Did anyone see what happened to them?”

A woman responded, “I did. It was horrible. She was like a hungry cougar. She killed Cherokee and Uneguh alike.” The woman trembled, “How could one woman kill her own people?”

The Queen of the Western Hollow had claimed another family. Delete

The burials of Inola’s parents were quick and efficient. After the seven days in the village of mourning and ritual cleansing, A’asiatani paused his packing to talk to the Blue Clan Chief.

“I met with Uku Bodaway. The drought has made the clans desperate. More people are going to the Hollow to make bargains.” The chief started, “How can we stop more of the Blue Clan from going?”

“Try to keep them away from Western Hollow?” He shook his head in defeat. “One day, I’m afraid, Uktena will find someone willing to give her complete control.” He watched his son for a moment and continued. “Do you remember Patitkani?”

“The seer? Your teacher? Yes. He helped my father when a catfish hooked him. Nasty wound. But Patitkani knew exactly what to do.”

“He told me stories of Cherokee seers that could achieve The One Mind to defeat The Queen who weaves her lies in the shadows. We cannot untie a knot made in the dark.”

The Blue Clan Chief put his hand on A’asiatani’s shoulder. “All this talk of the Uktena, The Great Serpent. Get your mind on the right things, A’asiatani. A wife would be good for both of you.”

He looked at Inola. “We’ll be good together, you’ll see,” A’asiatani cut his eyes towards his son. “But he’s my son now. I can protect him.”

5 years later

The soft wind of mid-May clapped the leaves together in applause as the seven-year-old considered an invitation. Inola giggled at the sound that filled the air. Spreading his arms to feel the breeze increase around his body, he could hear someone laughing. He stepped barefoot across the grass on a downward slope into the tree line. Infectious and welcoming, he followed the sound into the safety of the canopy. Fearlessly walking through the unpathed growth, the plants parted before each step and closed behind his movement.

A piece of bark flashed by his face just close enough to make him stop. “Osiyo (hello), Inola!” a voice called to him. He gasped as he turned to his right to see a man. “Don’t be afraid. I am Wadinuhdi. You are safe here.”

“I’m not afraid. My father told me about you.” The child straightened his shoulders as he spoke. The man’s face broke into a broad and knowing smile.

“I know, little one. It’s one reason why you are here.” Wadinuhdi threw a pebble at a maple tree.

Looking intently at his form, the child exclaimed, “You’re little!”

Ignoring the obvious fact that they were eye to eye, the man flipped another piece of bark toward him and laughed. In a mocking tone, he copied him, “You’re little!”

“Do you live here?” He looked around to find a home, a hut, or anything he knew to be a dwelling.

“My home is very near and very far. We are the people who live anywhere.” He looked behind him at a giant tree.

Inola looked up with wonder, “You live in a tree?”

“Under the tree in a way, yes.” He stepped closer.

Inola studied his features, noting that his skin was like that of his own. His coal-black hair was straight and long down his back. “Are you a man or a child?”

“I am Nunnehi. We were created from the commands of the Birth of the Earth, the breath Unetlanuhi exhaled into the roots before the sun baked the sky. We are the Keepers of the Balance. The ones who stay to ensure The Creation never forgets its Creator.”

The little man walked up to the child and touched his forehead. The child smiled at the tickle running through his body.

“The Great Creator has a gift for you.”

“That feels like standing in the rain, but on the inside.” The boy paused to consider his next question. “Are you giving me a gift like father’s?”

Wadinuhdi smiled. “No. Yours is the Ama (water) gift. The Blue Clan are the keepers of the Water Gifts. This gift will grow in you as you learn how to use it as a protector of the Cherokee. The Blessing will come completely in the fullness of time.”

Inola’s face scrunched in determined thought. “I will be a great seer like father!”

The Nunnehi leader’s face was pensive. His face changed as if other words were on his tongue to be unleashed. He changed his mind when he heard a voice calling.

“Inola! Inola! Son! Where are you?”

“I hear father calling.” He started to go, stopped and looked back at his new friend. “Wadinuhdi. I like you.”

“I like you, too, Inola. Say ‘osiyo’ to your father for me.”

Inola’s legs powered him in and out of the alternating sunshine and shade. He hurried in a straight path until he saw his father and yelled out for him.

The mixed emotions of relief and annoyance flashed across A’asiatani’s face. “Inola, son. Always tell me when you go away from me. I turned around and you were gone.” He saw the look and made a startling conclusion. “You heard from Wadinuhdi, didn’t you?” He waited for confirmation, but the pride was already on display.

“I am sorry for walking away, father. Yes, Wadinuhdi spoke to me and he said ‘osiyo’ to you.”

A’asiatani’s grateful moment was cut short as he picked up his son and took in the trees several paces away. To the west.

“Did you see anything else that looked like the shadows moving?” he asked, as his steps hastened towards their sleeping ledge.

“No. But did I do something wrong? Why are you hurrying?” the child asked with a small level of disquiet.

“We were too close to the western section of the Hollow. Evil lives there, Inola.”

They gathered themselves under the large flat outcropping of limestone that made the perfect shade and protection from the rain and prepared for the night. Inola asked, “Why does Uktena want people?”

Tucking his son under his blanket, he said, “She calls herself ‘the Queen of the Western Hollow.’ The Law of the Western Hollow says that the Queen only grants a harvest if she can harvest a soul in return. She lives for destruction and lies. The Nunnehi keep the balance for us. Enough talk for one day. We go back to the village tomorrow.”

Inola interrupted, “Did you collect all the healing plants you needed?”

A’asiatani cast a curious smile at the boy. “You want to see them one more time before we leave?”

Inola nodded enthusiastically.

His father relented, “Come on, let’s use this Hickory close by. If we are kind in our hearts, the harsh wood may let us listen.”

Father and son made the few steps as Inola grasped his father’s hand. He whispered, “Be nice. Be kind.”

This time, however, A’asiatani felt a different sensation than before. Without thinking it through, he was connecting with the Hickory as his own son’s Ama Gift was germinating within his young sprout.

Inola’s grip tightened. “Father! What is happening?”

“Inola, did Wadinuhdi give you a gift?”

Their voices slowed as they breached the wood of the thick hickory tree. Inola’s Ama Gift heightened his father’s Tree Gift. Both limited elemental gifts reinforced each other into something greater. Their skin tingled with the water flowing through this tree, the next tree, and so on. “I don’t just feel them, I feel the life coursing through them! You have the Ama Gift of the Blue Clan, Inola!” As soon as it began, it ended.

The hickory seemed to shake them from itself and A’asiatani jerked his hand off the bark in shock. “I told you the hickory was harsh. But now I know what more powerful tree-seers can do. They can even reason with and speak for the trees.”

“I’m not supposed to use words like the Hickory uses,” Inola confessed.

A’asiatani picked up his Ama Gifted son and whirled him around as he walked back to their sleeping spot. “Thank you, Inola. You have made me very proud. Very tired, but very proud. I think using our gifts together may have made us both weary.” He paused self-consciously and mumbled. “There is always a cost.”

Once they were tucked in, Inola fell asleep after a long day. A’asiatani’s eyes never left the shadows for an Asgina that may have seen them. He watched until the sun returned.

The shadows did, indeed, shift from the western section of the Hollow. An empty eyed, unusually large, wolf stalked the two Cherokee males for as long as he was allowed. A blazing amber spear landed close enough to its snout that it flinched. It looked in the direction of the weapon’s origination and growled.

“That’s far enough, Waya (Wolf).” Wadinuhdi had taken the form of a full-on, battle-branded Cherokee warrior and spoke with a rumble against the hills.

“The boy was promised to Queen Uktena. The father made the bargain. The Queen reaps lives for a good harvest,” it responded.

“You know the law. Until the boundary is breached, all Asgina demons must stay where ‘your queen’ can see you. I know her anger drives her desire for revenge. But not past the boundary.”

“There are always desperate humans looking for power. She will find more than you can keep out,” he laughed.

Unamused, Wadinuhdi corrected him. “Unetlanuhi will raise up warriors to act and put that Snake back where she belongs!”

The Wolf retorted, “She was betrayed by The Nunnehi! Liars and tricksters! You will bow at her . . .!”

“Silence! The Creator imprisoned her under the Ulunsu’ti for her part in The Rebellion,” Wadinuhdi’s voice still vibrated the ground. He adjusted. “You are too close. Retreat or be released into the dry and arid place.”

The Wolf Asgina snarled through a heavy breath and proceeded deeper away from the western boundary. He kept skulking along but did not turn to either side when he spoke, “Uktena will have her revenge . . . and her payment, Nunnehi. You know the law as well.” Delete

Täwikashä stepped into the Hollow through the western edge. The shadows seemed to swallow the daylight, but daytime was the only time to be there.

He had been a Shawnee-clan under-chief for two long and excruciating years. He knew the bargain ritual for Kinepikwa to do what he could not on his own. The only thing he didn’t know was where to look for The Great Serpent the Cherokee called, Uktena.

“Ssstep closer, Chief.”

Täwikashä froze. The voice didn’t travel through the air; it slithered through the marrow of his bones. In the center of a clearing, where the trees leaned away as if in prayer or terror, the Kinepikwa uncoiled. Its scales weren’t the dull brown of a common viper. They shimmered with the iridescent slick of oil on water, reflecting colors that didn’t belong in the sunlight. It was massive, thick as a Walnut trunk, with horns that swept back like Hawthorne daggers. The horns held a crimson gem, the Ulunsu’ti.

“The Three Nations squabble while the shadows grow long. I will have the power to protect what is mine. Even from a worm.”

The Great Serpent’s tongue flicked, tasting the air.

“Protection is a heavy word, little chief. And insults will get you killed. Are you here to die or make a bargain?” the Kinepikwa hissed, its eyes like burning embers. “You know the ritual. You know the price I had to pay for being a god to be worshiped. It is why I wear the Horn’s shard. But do you know the weight of the debt? There is always a cost.”

Undaunted, he spoke with more bravado, “You weren’t always like this hideous beast. You could be free. I can help.”

The Great Serpent struck like lightning. The horn under her jaw left a ferocious gouge on his shoulder. He cried in pain and stumbled forward from the bloody stab.

“On your knees, little lenawe (man)? You will get more pain or a quick death . . . unless you convince me otherwise.”

Täwikashä held his tongue and looked back toward the western edge, toward the world of sun and soft breathing. He thought of the two years of political grievances and the faces of those who had a strength he didn’t possess. He bowed his head with indelible defeat.

“Tell me what must be done,” he whispered.

The Kinepikwa began to circle him, a ring of ancient malice. “The bargain is simple, Täwikashä. I will give you the title you want. But in return, I require one in the line you seek to protect; she shall be marked. Not for death, but for extraction as my champion.”

“Champion? For what?” His voice had no challenge in it.

“My purpose. My possession. My pride.

From the time before time,

when the world was made new.

I, Uktena, became Queen over you.

I was given Ulunsu’ti as the jewel in my crown.

Imprisoned as a serpent to crawl on the ground.

Now I give you a blessing in this bargain we make.

You give me the name of the soul I take.”

Täwikashä could barely utter the name. He loved her -his little red bird- but no other name came to mind. His head shook in an attempt to stop his tongue from this betrayal.

Finally, he uttered, “Onatotsee.”

A cold wind swept through the Hollow, though the leaves above remained deathly still. Täwikashä felt the weight of the bargain pressing down. It was a serpent’s cold logic that would win the war by any means necessary.

“I believe we have a bargain, little chief.”

8 years later

A’asiatani looked at his hands. Sun-soaked, helping, healing hands. Not healing like some anisgwaya (protectors) of legend. He’d seen it as a very young one. Extraordinary elemental gifts from The Nunnehi. It was the reason that this late in summer they would go to Great Oak Hollow.

He called out, “Inola! This trip’s supplies will not pack themselves! Plenty of food. Three days in the Hollow would give us time to be reacquainted with The Oak King and maybe you will receive the Nunnehi’s final blessing this time, yes?” His son shrugged off the comment. “Don’t worry, Inola. Wadinuhdi would not have brought you this far without a reason.”

It seemed to A’asiatani that the clans were producing a Nunnehi-gifted Anisgwaya every other year. All except this adopted clan. The clan of his wife- the Blue Clan. Inola had to be the next one. He reassured himself.

His mentor, Patitkani, had explained, “When the Nunnehi needed stronger protectors, the Forest Spirit People would assemble and empower them.”

The two of them climbed onto their horses, and started west to Great Oak Hollow.

The rhythmic trotting of the horses’ hooves against the earth provided familiar sounds as a backdrop to their conversation. A’asiatani adjusted his seat with his lower legs caressing the sides of his horse, Iris. As his old body settled into the sway of the animal, he looked at Inola.

A’asiatani leaned forward, patting Iris’s neck. “The Great Creator is a master weaver, Inola. He waits to put the edge of the weaving where the last weft has been beaten in. The Nunnehi gives us the course once we’ve started the path. If the Great Creator has been quiet about the Blue Clan, it is not because we are forgotten but because it is not time for the gift to come to us.”

He looked at Inola with a piercing gaze.

“You ask if we have been forgotten? Be careful what you ask for, Inola. There is always an answer. There is always a cost.”

Before they entered through the Eastern arbors of the Hollow, A’asiatani called out to Inola to stop for a moment as the sun was not far from setting. The long evening shadows of early autumn were beginning their daily stretch into night. The Hollow’s magnificent greenery spread out before them as they waited.

“For this ride, I suppose I feel something in the trees that is different. Maybe it is something in the water. The western Hollow has been stirring.”

After they had set up a small area of rest, the night consumed the Hollow. The cicadas and locusts cried out with the usual alarming volume. The sounds deflected off the hardened bark, making them sound louder. To the trained ear, other animals could be distinguished apart from one another. They didn’t need a fire. Laying on the soft earthen forest floor meant they only needed a blanket for personal cover under the canopy above.

The next morning they woke to a startling sight.

“Inola. Inola.” A’asiatani nudged him gently but firmly. “Inola, son. Wake up. There’s a surprise for us.”

Inola rose slowly from his deep sleep. The sounds of the forest had changed from the soothing din of night to the excitement of the morning. Without looking around, he murmured, “Yes, awake. I’m awake.”

“Look behind you, Inola.”

He turned his head with wide-eyed wonder. “How?” He looked at his teacher in great disbelief. “Did you move us?”

A’asiatani sat in delight before the mighty oak. He drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his knees. His eyes flashed with a level of youth Inola hadn’t seen in many, many seasons. “No, Inola. We are in the same place we were in last night. Isn’t it magnificent?”

Inola’s eyes moved back and forth between the suddenly appearing tree and his suddenly vivacious father. “I’ve seen this tree before but in another part of the Hollow. How did it get here?”

“You and I haven’t been here together to see The Oak King move. I was here to see it move once long before you were born.”

“Move? How?” Inola still couldn’t believe it.

His teacher smacked his hands together several times and answered, “This means the Nunnehi will visit sooner rather than later!” Then he waited for the boy to receive the answer to his own question.

“The Nunnehi visit when the tree moves?” he reasoned. “I’ve met the Nunnehi before and the Oak King was there. The Nunnehi sometimes use the trees as doorways to their hideaways.”

He nodded. “Yes, every time we were able to settle near the king before Wadinuhdi met us. Oh, how I would love to visit their huts!”

Inola’s face lit up to finally match his father’s expression. He thought, Should I hope to be given a Nunnehi Blessing today? Tonight?

A’asiatani reached out in the morning sunlight, bathing the woodland, to grasp the largest oak tree in Great Oak Hollow. His Tree Gift echoed through the behemoth that measured over 30 strides around the trunk, as he had stepped it.

The old healer blinked his eyes once, twice and then turned his head as the forest illuminated. His eyes were still the soft brown they had always been, but what they took in was different. The spiritual took precedence over the physical. Every tree and plant had a glow from inside it. He kept his concentration on the bark to allow his son to join in the mystery of the gifts they shared.

Familiar and excited with the process, he spoke to Inola. His voice carried through the plants. The teenager joined solemnly. Inola’s hand reached up and softly rested on the Oak King’s outer bark. He waited for the sensation to come. His eyes blinked open, closed and open again to share in the awe of the living luminescence around him with his father.

“In many ways, you have grown and learned faster than I did at your age . . . And, yes, I was your age once.” His face resounded with dignity and a mirthful smile about his age.

“With all honor to our ancestors, I had a better teacher,” Inola’s heart swelled with pride at the idea of all the healers and doctors coming before him.

“This day will be especially memorable. I believe it for you.” A’asiatani’s head turned from the side back to the illuminated plants.

Inola raised his head, looked around, and a small thing stepped out of the Oak King that the two of them gripped. It turned to face the young Cherokee anisgwaya-in-training.

“Wadinuhdi, catch!” Inola threw a stick with his left hand. It landed poorly in a horrible trajectory. He stared at it blankly with it lodged between two thick vines.

A laugh erupted from Wadinuhdi and he spoke to Inola. “Did you try to throw that at me?”

Inola responded with mock embarrassment. Wadinuhdi laughed even louder. The sound rebounded along the organisms glowing before his face.

The little man threw a stone to a birch tree and looked at the white-haired anisgwaya with a bright smile. “Osiyo, waga igitsi!” (Hello, Mother Cow!) The old man laughed with his mischievous lifelong friend. Inola tried to stifle a laugh but quickly joined them. A’asiatani turned slightly to his son, “If you say that to anyone, I’ll turn you into a waga!” Inola cut his laugh off and gasped.

A’asiatani and Wadinuhdi paused for a moment and leaned their heads back and shook the trees with laughter. Inola could feel the gentle shake in the forest community. The sensation meandered up his arm and felt like something tickling his skin.

Eventually, they all stopped and Wadinuhdi turned to Inola who held his breath to be in the gaze of the Nunnehi trickster.

“Inola. Come, walk with me.” He threw a chip of bark at A’asiatani and turned around to walk away. The old anisgwaya caught the bark and threw it at the back of Wadinuhdi’s head, who caught it. A’asiatani’s hand slipped from the tree to his side. He leaned his back against the Oak King as he slid down the trunk to the ground, for comfort and rest. “Wado unali (thank you, my friend).”