Wabanaki Blues by Melissa Tantaquidgeon Zobel Read Free Book Online

probably noticing more sounds because I can see less and less. The sun has dropped like a stone, turning the sky from passion pink to grizzly gray. Everything appears in shadow or silhouette. I pull a peanut butter, honey, and banana sandwich from my duffel and consider dropping bits of it along this trail, in case I need to find my way back. Then I remember those videos of Yellowstone National Park where stupid campers leave out food and hungry bears attack them.
    The animals won’t bother you, if you don’t bother them. That’s what Mom said. But what does she know? It’s better not to lure the bears.
    I pass a boulder shaped like a giant turtle. Yellow cat eyes pop out from behind it. It’s a mountain lion but it merely blinks at me, disinterested, like I’m a fellow homey from the ‘hood. I can see why Grumps stayed up here after Bilki died and didn’t return to tribal elder housing on the Mohegan Reservation. This place draws you in. Plus, considering my grandfather’s rough temperament, I realize how fortunate we are he chose to stay up here, in these woods.
    Wait a minute… these woods? What if these woods are nowhere near Bilki’s house? What if my parents dropped me off on the wrong road? Mom had a lot of trouble locating the turn off the main road. A sharp chill begins in my neck and skitters to my toes. Mom is heavily medicated. She could have easily picked the wrong road.
    I keep moving because stopping will get me nothing. A hum fills the air, maybe from a swarm of insects? Maybe from the wind? Maybe from the whispers of the trees? Are they guiding me? Either way, it’s soothing. The last gleams of sunlight twinkle through the white pines, like holiday lightbulbs going out on this land full of Christmas trees, one by one. My eyes adjust to see things in a strange gloaming blue light. The mountain lion that was behind the boulder has moved closer but still doesn’t feel threatening. A bull moose saunters past me and nods. Orange pineo mushrooms on the side of an oak stump expand before my eyes. I recognize them from nature class at tribal camp. Soft moss spreads across the forest floor. I can see things growing! I avoid an anthill because my eyes peer through the earth, into the bustling insect metropolis. I belong to this forest like I’ve never belonged anywhere. I am these oaks and pines. I am the moss. I am the mushrooms. I am the wildcat. I am the moose. I am the ants. I’m all of it. Okay, I’m also overtired.
    I trip and fall on a flat stone with a sharp edge that bruises my foot. So much for my cosmic unification with the Great North Woods. I check Rosalita. Fortunately, she remains undamaged because I dropped her onto my duffel. I don’t bother to get up. What’s the point? I have no idea where I’m going or where I am. I sit, rubbing my sore and injured foot. In my exuberance over these woods, I got careless and stupid. I should have been more careful.
    I don’t dare try and stand. What if I can’t get up? What if nobody comes looking for me for a month? That’s what happened to Mia Delaney, wasn’t it? Her classmates assumed she rode off with her lover into the sunset, when in fact he must have circled back to the school basement and locked her inside. Her parents didn’t search for her at her own high school. If they did, they could have saved her. What kind of parents don’t comb every inch of their kid’s territory after they disappear? What kind of parents drop their daughter off in the middle of the New Hampshire woods without making sure she gets to her grandfather’s cabin safely?
    My foot throbs. I lay my head on my duffel and stare up at the stars. There are so many here. I pick out the few constellations I know.
    The temperature drops, sending shivers through me.
    â€œBilki, what am I supposed to do?” I ask, lifting my arm to the stars and jangling my charm bracelet.
    My