Read The Spirit Keeper for Free Online Page A

participate in the celebration—well, them and Hector, who was still sitting on the mat with the elders, apparently as shocked as my mother and sister. Only when Syawa raced o’er to gabble at him in their foreign tongue did Hector finally react. I saw relief wash o’er him as he reached out to pull Syawa’s head to his, their foreheads touching for a moment in a tender testament to the bond between them.
    I inhaled deeply and sighed as I turned to my family members, who were all viciously berating me for being such a goddamned fool. I smiled to myself.
    I knew I’d made the right decision.

~5~
    B Y THE NEXT MORNING, of course, I had completely changed my mind, but ’twas far too late to reconsider. All I could do was raise a trembling hand to wave good-bye as the same band of warriors who’d captured us led my family members off to the northeast. Only William returned my pitiful gesture; my mother and sister merely sneered. When they were out of sight, I slowly turned to my two strange companions, who stood awaiting me patiently. With ragged breath and eyes downcast, I followed as they set off to the west.
    I was terrified. I have done many stupid things in my life, but none more foolhardy than this. What was I doing? Why was I doing it? Was I really willing to throw my life away, just to get back at my wretched mother? Come now, Katie—think, think! How will ye get back to Philadelphia? My mind raced, coming up with wild plans for escaping so I could either catch up with my kin or somehow return to civilization on my own. One way or another I knew I must return to Philadelphia.
    But Syawa gave me no idle time to devise ill-fated plans. As soon as we set off, he veritably bounced along the trail, walking beside me first on one side, then the other, chattering all the while like a squirrel gathering fat nuts. I, of course, understood none of what he said, but I could not help but be touched by his enthusiasm.
    Hector set a wearisome pace, trotting along a trail only he could see. I was young and hale and at first I thought I did an admirable job of keeping up, but after several hours of scurrying along I simply must rest. That’s when I realized Hector had actually been holding himself back for my benefit. Whilst I rested and Syawa engaged me with his non-stop blather, Hector paced impatiently, scowling, tight-lipped, at the trail ahead. Thereafter I required frequent rests, which Syawa was perfectly happy to oblige, but Hector bestowed only grudgingly.
    From the start, I worried about Hector. As frightening as I found him to be, I was e’en more puzzled by him. He clearly resented my presence—but why? If he had known Syawa was looking for someone to take back to his people, why did he resent me? Did he not expect Syawa’s Journey to be successful? Or did he just not believe I was the person Syawa was looking for?
    I had little time to spare for pondering such curiosities, as my immediate task was to learn Syawa’s language. I felt sure I could accomplish this goal quickly, as my father, who spoke five languages, had forced us all to learn Latin and French e’en as we learnt English. Tho’ my Latin was choppy, I was fairly fluent in French, for it was the language my siblings and I used whene’er we wanted to keep secrets from Mother. Because of my experience with languages, I was confident I could soon master Syawa’s savage tongue.
    My confidence proved overly optimistic.
    Syawa began by telling me words for things we saw along the trail—tree, cloud, rock—but I was immediately baffled when he seemed to have multiple words for most objects. Words changed, apparently at random, depending upon how the object was used, seen, or talked about, and who was doing the using, seeing, or talking. What was worse, his language was composed of sounds unlike any I’d e’er heard—stranger e’en than the weird sounds of Gaelic my gran occasionally used—and I learnt to my dismay that the mispronunciation of a