This has been the longest day of my life. The monolith started humming again hours ago, keeping me company as I wait for Madda to return.
Am I to stay here? Is this some kind of test where I’m supposed to try to find her? I don’t know and can’t find any trace of where she went, or even how to get back to the boundary, so I bide my time walking around the crater, searching the woods surrounding the clearing while the monolith watches.
The wound from the sisiutl throbs. I clean it with the water left in Madda’s canteen, and then clean it again- anything to stop myself from dwelling on the fact that Madda is missing. What if she’s hurt? The thought makes my throat grow thick. I call her name over and over until I’m hoarse. No reply. No sound at all, save for the hum of the monolith. No bees. No birds. No frogs. Nothing but the monolith’s incessant hum.
I dream.
I dream of Paul, floating in the ocean. His hair fans out around his shoulders and moonlight catches in his eyes. He spreads his arms and legs until he is a star, a spinning star in the sea, a starfish, a sea star. He looks at me and says something, but I can’t make out his words. I lean close, and realize I’m in the water too, swimming toward him, when a great fin pierces the water and a creature swallows Paul whole.
And then I scream until water fills my lungs and I wake, drenched in sweat.
Night comes and goes, and still no Madda. I stuff moss in my ears, but it doesn’t stop the hum.
Could I find my way back? Maybe, if I had paid closer attention, but the woods all look the same to me and I’m just as likely to end up back here at the clearing as at the camp. But the humming is getting louder and I can’t shake the feeling I’m being watched.
I pass the time first by drawing concentric rings around the monolith, as if that will stop the hum, and when I grow tired of that, I use stone to make a great wheel, radiating out and away from the slab of obsidian. The stones are heavy, and before long, my hands are blistered and sore, but I don’t stop. I just keep on working, doggedly, as if that will bring Madda back.
And then, something changes. A sound breaks through the monolith’s hum. The snapping of twigs. I freeze. I can’t make out where the sound’s coming from, and all at once the entire world seems to spring to life with noise. Twigs snap, birds call, and my head reels. The humming ceases-a blessing!-but my nerves are shot and I whirl around, trying to find the source of the snapping. Something’s coming.
I squeeze my eyes shut and when I open them, I see Cedar, Henry Crawford, and another man-I don’t know him-standing at the edge of the clearing, staring at me. They hold rifles in their hands.
Cedar takes a step forward. “Are you okay?” he calls.
I realize they don’t want to come close to the monolith. They’re afraid of it. Their fear rolls off them, down into the crater. The monolith drinks it up.
I run toward them. “Madda’s missing!”
“We know,” Henry Crawford says. He slings his rifle over his shoulder. “We’ve come to take you back.”
“But Madda…,” I say as the men exchange looks. “What? What’s happened?”
Henry Crawford shakes his head.
“What does that mean?” My voice is flat with anger. “What’s going on?”
Cedar reaches out and takes my arm. “Come on, Cass. Let’s get back to the boundary and talk about it there.”
“No,” I snarl, pulling my arm back. “You tell me what’s happened.”
The men won’t look at me.
“I have a right to know,” I say. “I’m her daughter.”
This startles them. Henry Crawford scratches his head. “She adopted you?”
I pull up my sleeve, exposing my shoulder to show him the tattoo as proof.
Cedar shakes his head. “Cass, no. Just come back, okay?”
I glare at him. “Don’t you treat me like a child. You don’t know me.” I lean toward him. “But I see what sits on your shoulder.”
Cedar’s muskrat peeks out at me.
“I see all of your totems,” I say, nodding at the other men-Henry’s weasel, the other man’s frog. “I see more than you can imagine.”
Henry Crawford sighs. “Well, okay then. Showing you is probably the best way.”
Cedar looks like he’s about to disagree, but a warning glance from Henry seems to change his mind.
They give me a second to gather up Madda’s belongings down at the monolith, and then we set off. I can’t tell if I’ve won a battle or suffered a terrible defeat.
Madda is at the bottom of a cliff. I want to go to her, but I can’t seem to make my legs work.
Madda, wake up. Wake up and ask me how to make a poultice for croup, or how much willow is needed to stop a headache, or what’s the best way to fight a cold-anything. Just wake up. Please, wake up!
She doesn’t move. She just lies there, her leg twisted at an unnatural angle, her head turned away from me. Go help her! my mind screams. Get down there and make her better!
But I know there is no helping Madda now. Deep down inside of me, I feel something break. I don’t know what, but as it does, tears begin to sting my eyes. I squeeze them shut. I won’t cry. Madda would want me to be strong.
One step. Just take one step. That’s all you need to do, I tell myself, one step to get started.
So I do. Scree gives way beneath my feet, sending a cascade of stone and dust toward Madda as I scramble down the cliff. Stop thinking, I tell myself. Stop thinking, don’t think, don’t think, you cannot think! But my mind already is-How long has she been here? How long has she been alone? How long did she suffer? Please, please say she didn’t suffer. Please say that whatever did this to her did it after she was already dead. Please.
I carefully turn her toward me. She stares up at the sky with eyeless sockets. One of her arms lies a man’s length from her body. I collect it and set it where it belongs, and then begin to search for her eyes, scouring the ground, pushing stones out of the way, heaving them across the clearing, kicking at the dust, grappling at the broom leaning out from the cliff face. Where are they?
“Help me!” I scream at the men who are still standing at the top of the cliff, looking down at me. “Come down here and help me!”
I can’t find them. I can’t find Madda’s eyes. I fall to my knees beside her and close her eyelids. She will never see the sky again.
This isn’t Madda, I tell myself. Madda is strong. Her tongue is sharp. She doesn’t suffer fools kindly. This, this doll, broken and cast aside, isn’t her.
But that’s only partly true. This was that person, once. Once was. Won’t be again.
I rest my cheek on hers and cry.
After a time, someone makes their way down the cliff and sets his hand on my shoulder. “Come on, Cass.” It’s Cedar. “We need to go.”
I wrench myself away from him. “No, we don’t!” He tries to take my shoulder again, but I shake him off. “Don’t you touch me! Don’t any of you touch me!” I take Madda in my arms and hold her close. “I’m staying here with her!”
Cedar kneels before me. “Madda’s gone. She’s gone, Cass.” He looks over his shoulder, and then off at the forest beyond the clearing. “We have to go. Madda would want you to leave.”
“You don’t know a thing about what she wants!” I hiss.
“Cedar,” Henry Crawford calls from the top of the cliff. “Bring her up.”
“Not until I know who did this!” I shriek at him. When I find the one responsible, I will grind him to dust. “You know. You know who it was. Tell me!”
Cedar takes a few steps back. “Not here,” he whispers.
“Now you’ve seen,” Henry Crawford says. “Time to go.”
“We can’t leave her here like this! We have to do something for her-build her a nest in the trees. Something!”
“No,” Henry Crawford says. “She stays where she is.”
I stand up and set my hands on my hips, like Madda would’ve done. “She deserves a proper place to rest, just like what we did for those men she tended back in the forest. Have you forgotten that already?” How dare he! How dare he suggest we leave Madda’s body here, exposed, for carrion-eaters to pick at! How dare he look sad! She will be alone, so alone here. In the trees she’d have the wind and the rain and the sun. Her bones would bleach. Her skin would dry. She’d be with the stars, the moon. What better place to rest than under the heavens? How can they think of leaving her here? After all she’s done for them?
Henry Crawford draws a deep breath and crosses to me until we stand nose to nose. “We are being watched,” he says. “I’m sorry, but they want her to stay here.” He casts his gaze to the trees. “They’ve claimed her.”
“Who is they?” I say.
“You’re the medicine woman, aren’t you?” He narrows his eyes at me. “Shouldn’t you know?”
The hair on the back of my neck lifts as I scan the tree line. I have no idea what, or who, is watching us, but I realize he’s right. I can feel the eyes again, boring into my soul.
“You tell me,” I demand. “You tell me right now who did this.”
Cedar exchanges worried glances with the other men. They know, and they don’t want to say.
We climb the cliff, and when we reach the top, just as I’m about to demand answers, something behind us screams. I’ve never heard such an unearthly sound. I jump and try to bolt forward, but Henry holds me back.
“Walk slowly,” he says. “If they wanted you, they would have taken you already. They won’t hurt you now.” But his hand trembles.
“What… what is that?” I whisper.
“Dzoonokwa,” Henry says. “A supernatural, from the old stories. The wild woman of the woods.”
“Women,” the other man says. “There’s more than one.”
“What are they?” I ask.
“Later.” Henry Crawford nods at Cedar, who sets off again. “We need to get back before dark. But now you have your answer.”
The screams follow us into the woods, though they grow fainter with time. Only then, when I can’t hear them anymore, do I realize tears are streaming down my face again.
We arrive back at the camp at nightfall. I find the place where Madda and I abandoned our packs, and it hits me that the packs and all they hold are now mine. I sink down beside them, rest my forehead on the stiff, rough canvas. I don’t cry. I feel like I should, like I need to, but I have no more tears. My eyes feel dry and raw and cracked. So, too, does my heart.
No one approaches me, though I feel many gazes resting on my back. What the men think, I don’t know. I don’t care. Staying away from me is the best thing they can do. I want blood.
Cedar dares to approach a short while later. He holds a bowl of stew out to me. “You should eat,” he says.
“I’m not hungry.”
“Suit yourself.” He sets the bowl beside the packs and turns to leave, when I stop him.
“Tell me about the dzoonokwa.”
He pauses midstep. “They’re the wild women of the woods.”
I groan. “Henry already told me that. I’m not in the mood to play games.”
Cedar whirls around and glares at me. “I’m not playing a game,” he snarls. “Dzoonokwa claimed Madda’s soul, and now we’re stuck with some stupid, half-trained half-breed who doesn’t know a damn thing about the spirit world or the creatures of the forest.” He storms off.
I throw the bowl of stew at his back, but I miss and the bowl bounces off into the bracken. I can smell the stew, and only then do I realize how hungry I actually am.