The Spirit Keeper by K. B. Laugheed Read Free Book Online

not particularly relish the idea of being married to a savage, but, then again, I did not particularly relish the idea of being married to any man. Having no means or power to avoid it, however, I had long since concluded marriage was something which would inevitably befall me, like rotting teeth or running bowels, and I was resigned to making the best of it when it occurred. As Gran would say, “God’s Will be done.”
    Thus, in the quiet times of our journey, whilst trotting through the thick forest at a pace which made all attempts at conversation impossible, I pondered what marriage to this odd fellow might mean. I had certainly ne’er imagined myself betrothed to such an unlikely candidate. His incessant smile, while decidedly pleasant, made him seem, as Liza suggested, simple-minded, and his admitted predilection for dreaming, coupled with his acknowledged inability to excel at everyday tasks, suggested he was probably going to be a poor provider. On the other hand, his smallish stature and unremarkable appearance no doubt prevented him from being promiscuous, which made me wonder if the real reason behind his quest to find a “certain woman” was simply the fact that it might require such a journey to find any woman willing to accept him.
    And yet, I, myself, was such a peculiar girl that I found his lack of obvious advantages to be a major part of his charm, as I always was one to be drawn to the lame puppy or the runt hog of the litter. I freely admit I admired Syawa’s confession of shortcomings, not to mention his lack of guile and unwavering good humor in the face of hardship, conflict, and danger—mostly because those traits were so foreign to my experience of men. No man I’d e’er known would admit to being weak or frightened or worried or wrong, for every man I’d e’er known was always locked in a self-imposed struggle to be the biggest, the brightest, the toughest, or the meanest. Hector, whose face was either entirely emotionless or set in a scowl, was much more like every other man I’d e’er known.
    But e’en as I was drawn to Syawa’s uniqueness, I was unnerved by it as well. Did I really want to spend my life obliged to a grinning fool, someone who seemed half-witted, a man others might well dismiss as the equivalent of a village idiot?
    Which is not to say I thought Syawa stupid. Clearly he was not. The determination and dedication required to trek through miles of hostile territory to find the woman of his dreams was not only flattering and romantic, but the mark of a strong character as well. Any reasonable person might view his “quest” as half-baked and detached from reality, but I was enough of a dreamer myself to understand the nature of his obsession and respect it. He might be mad, as my sister proclaimed, but, for me, madness was far from a disqualifier. Little in life had e’er made sense to me.
    Besides, there was one thing about Syawa I found utterly irresistible—his glibness of tongue. At first, of course, I understood naught of what he said, but I was tickled by the fact he ne’er ran out of things to say. He chattered on like a bird at dawn, and tho’ I knew not what he was talking about, I truly enjoyed listening to him. Most evenings, both whilst we were with my family and thereafter, Syawa passed the time by telling some sort of story, which Hector—who was the only one who understood him—attended with great interest. Sometimes Hector was amused by the tales, sometimes saddened, but always he was entertained. I found myself envying the tall, silent man because he clearly derived so much pleasure from listening to his friend’s words.
    After the story each night, Hector curled up in his fur and went right to sleep, but Syawa always continued to sit by the fire and talk, e’en after I wrapt myself in my bearskin and lay down to sleep as well. At first I thought he did this to prevent me from attempting a nocturnal escape, for Syawa’s voice had such a