“You, the guy whose transportation skills are best on horseback?” she countered, her eyebrow arching.
“I learned how to drive when I was here before,” I said firmly, leaving no room for further argument. The tight press of her lips told me she wasn’t convinced but chose to relent.
Nearby, Malik leaned casually against Talia’s van, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll ride with the others in the van,” he said, gesturing with exaggerated caution. “Not risking my life with you, brother.”
He guffawed, waving his hand over his head as he sauntered off. The sound of his laughter lingered for a moment, a fleeting contrast against the somber backdrop before fading into the night.
I climbed behind the wheel, gripping it with confidence and trepidation. The key turned with a loud grind, and the vehicle roared to life. The raw power of the engine thrummed beneath me, unfamiliar and unruly. The truck lurched forward, weaving erratically as I wrestled with its movements.
“Roman!” Olivia yelled, clutching the door for balance. “You’ll shake Lee to pieces if you keep driving like this!”
Chastened, I eased off the accelerator, my knuckles whitening as I tightened my grip on the steering wheel. Slowly, I coaxed the vehicle into a smoother rhythm, balancing our speed with the solemn respect owed to the precious cargo we carried.
The road ahead stretched endlessly, unfurling like a ribbon disappearing into the horizon. Each mile brought us closer to the sacred ground, and each stop we made served as a somber reminder of the reality awaiting us at the journey’s end. Talia’s van led the way, a quiet guide through a landscape that grew increasingly foreign and reverent as we neared our destination.
“Google Maps won’t help you here,” Talia had warned before we set out. “It cannot speak the way. This is sacred ground.”
“Google Maps?” I murmured to myself during one of our brief stops. Pulling Olivia aside, I asked quietly, “What is this... Google Maps? I’ve used maps before, but they were made of paper or leather. They didn’t talk to me.”
Despite the heaviness of our mission, Olivia laughed—a light, unexpected sound that pierced through the solemnity.
“Oh, Roman,” she said with a gentle smile. “Google Maps is an app. It’s like a map that’s alive—it talks to you, gives you directions.”
“An… app?” I repeated, the words strange and unfamiliar on my tongue.
“Yep, it’s on a phone or a computer,” she explained. “But it doesn’t know everything, especially not the things that matter most.”
Her words lingered in my mind as we climbed into the truck. I marveled at the layers of this world—how technology could bridge distances and connect people yet fail to guide them along paths steeped in spirit and history. With every mile beneath us, I was reminded that some journeys couldn’t be mapped by devices or satellites. They required more than a physical guide—they demanded reverence, remembrance, and the wisdom of those who understood the sacred ways.
When we finally arrived at the small dwelling marking the end of our road journey, fatigue settled over me like a heavy cloak. The engine’s steady hum fell silent as I turned off the ignition, leaving only the soft rustling of the wind through the surrounding trees. Olivia stepped out first, stretching as Malik emerged from Talia’s van. His gaze met mine, filled with concern and quiet determination.
“Roman,” he said, pulling me aside while the others gathered their bearings, “I’m heading back with you after the burial. They’ll stay here and return in a few days.”
He gestured toward Marcellious and Emily, who spoke softly a few feet away. “Marcellious wants to stay with the Sioux for a while. And let’s be honest—there’s no way I’m letting you drive again. Watching you in the rearview mirror was like watching a drunken fool navigate a minefield.”
Olivia stifled a laugh, “Good call.”
I couldn’t argue. My earlier driving had been more a battle with the truck than a smooth journey, and Lee’s body had endured more jostling than I cared to admit. Nodding, I placed a hand on Malik’s shoulder, silently thanking him for looking out for all of us.
We joined the elders who had gathered to receive us. Their faces, weathered and serene, carried an air of solemnity and grace. I felt a grounding sense of purpose settle over me in their presence. Together, with careful reverence, we lifted Lee’s body from the bed of the truck. The weight of our collective grief was as tangible as the physical burden we carried on our shoulders.
The ceremony began under the canopy of trees in a clearing touched by sunlight and shadow. The rustling of leaves and the whispers of the wind wove through the air like a sacred hymn. We laid Lee’s body upon an animal hide draped over a sturdy litter, the frame lashed together with sinew and adorned with intricate beadwork and feathers. Each detail reflected respect and artistry, cradling Lee’s form as if it were part of nature.
With steady, practiced hands, the elders wrapped Lee in soft leather adorned with intricate symbols of spiritual significance. Their murmured prayers, ancient and melodic, carried the weight of countless generations. Each sacred word, spoken in the Lakota tongue, became a bridge between worlds, guiding Lee’s spirit on its journey to the afterlife.
As they worked, the air seemed to hum with reverence. The elders infused the ritual with the essence of their beliefs, their hearts heavy yet unwavering in their sacred duty. The scent of sage and sweetgrass lingered, their smoke rising in soft spirals, purifying the space and offering blessings for Lee’s passage into the unknown.
When the preparations were complete, the community gathered around the litter. Each of us took our designated position, muscles taut as we lifted the sturdy frame bearing Lee’s body. The weight pressed down on us, but the strength of our determination carried us forward. The litter swayed gently with each step, like a vessel gliding over calm waters. The sun beat down on our backs, its warmth merging with the heat of our exertion.
The elders led us on foot toward Wak?á?heya Há?ska—Sacred Heights—a place of profound peace and ancient wisdom. Ponderosa pines stood tall and regal, their branches swaying as if whispering secrets of the ages. Weathered rock formations towered above us like sentinels, while the ground beneath our feet was soft with grass and speckled with wildflowers in vibrant hues. With each breath, the fragrant air carried a quiet solace, mingling with Lee’s body’s delicate, earthy scent—a blend of wildflowers and fresh grass that seemed to honor his final journey.
I glanced at Marcellious, his face a mask of sorrow. Yet, though grief weighed heavily upon him, his steps remained resolute. Beside him, Malik walked with quiet determination, his eyes fixed straight ahead as if seeking strength in the path before us.
Here, amidst the elements, we weren’t just burying a friend. We were returning him to the land that had shaped him, a land that knew neither betrayal nor malice—only the eternal cycle of life, death, and rebirth.
As we approached Wak?á?heya Há?ska, a wooden archway rose before us, its surface carved with intricate Sioux symbols. The craftsmanship commanded reverence, a silent reminder of the sacred ground we now entered. Smooth river stones guided our path, leading us past towering totem poles and carved faces of ancestors who watched over this hallowed place. We laid Lee’s body beside the prepared burial site, the leather wrapping around him snug as if cradling him one final time. The elders stood beside us, their presence grounding and solemn. Malik, Marcellious, and I joined them, our grief woven with the silent acceptance of this inevitable farewell.
Above us, an eagle soared across the sky, its wings slicing through the heavens with a graceful arc. It circled once, then twice, then thrice. Each pass felt like a benediction, a celestial sign of Lee’s soul ascending. My eyes followed the eagle as it climbed higher, becoming a speck against the vast expanse of blue—a part of something infinite, just as Lee was now.
