Leaping Deer chanted something I couldn’t understand while Laughing Maid poured more water on the stones.
I became lost inside this strange, dark, intolerably hot world. Around me, this bizarre wind blew wildly, reeking of decay and rotting flesh, and sucked me into a terrifying vortex. I crawled on the dirt floor, trying to escape the heat, finding respite in the crack at the base of the hides. I pressed my nose to the gap like a little dog and focused on the slender slice of cool air that touched the end of my nose.
Leaping Deer kept up with the chanting, with me clinging to sanity.
At last, the door flap was thrown open, and a waft of night air came rushing into the lodge. I belly-crawled outside, spent, and collapsed upon the earth without prompting. Feeling as cleansed as if I’d been dipped repeatedly in the sea, I lay there. I didn’t have the strength to move.
What was that wind that blew in the enclosure? It didn’t feel benevolent, not one bit.
Soft hands fell upon my back, and I was urged onto my hands and knees and then to standing.
Leaping Deer stood back to regard me. She cocked her head and turned my face from side to side. Eventually, she nodded, satisfied with what she saw.
I felt shaky and weak, utterly exhausted, as I attached my blade and gun to my thighs. A white robe was thrown over my shoulders, and some markings were painted on my face.
“Come. You are ready to see the Great Spirit.” She led me beneath the moonless sky toward Roman, Marcellious, Earth Bear, and Grey Feather, who sat around a blazing bonfire.
Earth Bear wielded a drum, and he beat a steady rhythm with it while chanting and singing.
I collapsed next to Roman.
He flashed me a wan smile, appearing as spent as I was. Just like in Rome, he wore a simple leather loincloth. He looked genuinely fierce, his face and torso covered with red and black markings, obscuring his tattoos.
Marcellious’ eyes looked haunted in the flickering flames.
Leaping Deer departed, fading into the night like a wraith.
While Earth Bear kept up with the drumming and chanting, Grey Feather stood and intoned the four directions similarly to Laughing Maid. Then, he sat and picked up a rattle similar to the one we’d had in the sweat lodge.
The wailing in my ears began. I pressed my hands to the sides of my head.
Grey Feather shook the rattle with his eyes closed, saying something about the Great Spirit, guidance, and answers.
I couldn’t discern everything he said—the drum and the insistent shrieking blocked out all other sounds.
Both Roman and Marcellious looked at me, their brows creased in concern.
The drum grew louder, and Grey Feather’s voice boomed.
A shower of sparks erupted from the fire.
Grey Feather shouted and raised his arms to the sky.
“Show them the path!” he bellowed.
Another fountain of sparks exploded from the fire, and then, a dark, shadowy shape emerged.
“Look,” the dark figure said to me, pointing. “Look into your future.”
My mouth gaped as a scene unfolded before my eyes.
Blood dripped from the sky, spattering against the flames. Bodies fell upon the glowing logs and disappeared as puffs of smoke. The village was immersed in blood, pain, and misery. My heart shattered with grief as I heard people scream, caught in murderous chaos.
At first, I thought the screams came from the vision. But then, glancing toward the encampment, tribal people ran with torches, screaming and shouting while chased by ghostly visages.
And amid all the chaos stood my darkness, watching me, an evil grin upon its face.
“Olivia!” a voice called out.
