Daniel took up the bottle of water that Timothy had earlier passed around, opened it, and tipped it back, drinking in long, soundless gulps. Then he righted the bottle, recapped it and set it down in a water bottle slot on the door of the limo. Without preamble, the man, then, continued his tale.
“We lived in villages at the top of the mountain. In that way, we could look down on the ancient world, on the children of the All Father, and at the animals below. The world was green then. The air smelled clear and sweet. It was a good life.
“We were not a special people, my village clan. Some of us made war against our brothers. A few stole or lied. Some men were not good citizens. They did not share with those who needed sustenance and care. But there were some who lived in the old ways. Those people longed for the Spirit of Good.”
“In that village and the others spread across our green lands, there was usually an old soul or two whose purpose was to hold the wisdoms of the past, to understand the secrets of nature, and to heal the sick. We, and I say, we, since I was one, were few. We were those chosen by the All Father himself. We were called the Thunderbirds by those we named us. We were the keepers of knowledge. We were shapeshifters.
“Unlike your wolf friends here, we Thunderbirds were not bound to one form. We could hurl ourselves into the sky and soar as an eagle, a raven, or an owl. We could bellow and chew the grass, warmed and comfortable inside our thick bison coats. We were free to change our outer shell whenever we needed. The Navajo called us Skin-walkers. Other tribes had names like Kushtaka or Buffalo People.
“But a name means nothing. It tells of the physical body that is visible to others. It says nothing of the power inside. A name is cast aside like the skin that holds our organs, our bones, and the blood that feeds those parts. But people like to gives names. Water. Car. Woman,” he said, with a graceful sway of a hand that motioned to me.
“Your people called us Witch doctors or Medicine Men. We were that and more. But those days are gone. My people suffered. The sun went down. Now, that life is no more. Those of us left behind, we search for someone like your Pooka, a being with a generous spirit. He is a native son of the All Father, and I will serve him until the All Father, himself calls me to the other plane. I am fortunate he accepts my friendship.”
My mouth had fallen open during Daniel’s story. It was a fairy tale, an enchantment, a chronicle of the past and of the present. How it involved Timothy, I wasn’t sure I yet understood, but I did grasp that Daniel was a very special person. He was someone I wanted to be near, to learn from, and to savor his knowledge. Unfortunately, like those super famous, I felt bowed in his presence and awed by his Power.
I swallowed, grabbed at my facilities and squeaked out, “We are all fortunate to know Timothy,” I said. Then I chuckled under my breath because I felt silly praising my own husband, even though I really meant what I’d said.
Timothy turned his head to look at me and dabbed a kiss on my forehead. You can praise me anytime. I enjoy it.
Enjoy every single day