Chapter 8: An Old Friend

The wind whipped through the trees causing them to bend with each gust that was thrown at them. Snowflakes clung to to needles decorating them with a white frosting. The pine tree outside Peter’s room knocked rhythmicly against the cabin’s wall knocking a gentle wake up call. The window stopped the full gust of wind but a small separation between the window and frame allowed the cold wind to brush across Peter’s face as he laid still. He listened for a moment all nestled in bed to the peace of the wind’s whisper.

The smell of bread baking in the oven filled every corner and every open space in the cabin. His nose alerted his stomach that it was time to eat by growling louder the the screaming wind outside. Peter shifted once again and opened his eyes to see a streak of light through the window. He lifted his form to stretch and look out the window. The skies were so grey, and he could see the snow all blustery and the frost on the window was proof of the cold. A wisp of cold air kissed his skin and a cold shiver ran all over his body. To chase the chill away, he pulled a blanket over his shoulder. His stomach rumbled in hunger and he ambled his way out of his room. The smell of hot bread led him to a little rustic kitchen and there was a side room, a living space with a fireplace to help warm the cabin.

A lady with dark hair was tendin to some plants on the countertop. He silently watch her as she worked on her task. He could hear her speaking softly and lovingly as she worked harvesting leaves off a bundle of dried plants. He watched as she placed each leaf in a bowl with great intentions. Her whisper was musical, and her hand flowed in circular patterns over the bowl before she placed the leaf into the bowl. He watched her repeat the ritual and wondered what she was doing.

Peter made a soft cough and the startled woman jumped and turned to meet his gaze. The first thing he noticed was a white streak of hair that was twisted and turned with black hair to frame her face perfectly. Her smile was soft and sweet as she waved her hand and a mortor and pestle went to work on their own grinding the leaves. She peeked into the bowl and nodded and turned to focus on Peter.

“Good afternoon. My name is Mary. I suppose your nose woke you up.” Mary smiled at Peter and gestured for Peter to sit down at the table. Mary sat down across the table and looked at the boy with a concerned look.

Her gaze was very motherly and kind and Peter smiled and nodded. With a flick of her wand, a bowl emerged from the cabinet, flew over to the kettle on the stove and hovered in midair as if it were waiting for something. The lid of the pot raised on its own and the smell of chicken soup lofted from the pan. A nearby ladle went to work and filled the waiting bowl with soup. Peter’s eyes widened as the bowl traveled across the room and settled itself in front of him. He looked up at the woman sitting at the table and he saw her sweet smile.

“I know you have never seen magic in this form. As I am to understand, you have your own magic.” Mary stopped and looked at Peter’s expression as he processed his thoughts. “Dragonfly told us about your abilities. You were wielding magic, he said, and he told us of the mark that you have. He showed us your mark the night he rescued you.” She got up from the table and walked to the oven and lowered the door to see the progress of the cooking bread.

“I assure you, the soup turned out well. Eat slowly. You were hurt pretty badly when the men hung you. I think you should be okay to eat though.”, She said.

Mary leaned over and pulled out a fresh batch of rolls and placed them on the top of the stove. With a wave of her hand the ice box opened and a bowl lofted through the air and landed next to her. She worked diligently to cover the golden brown crowns with a unhealthy amount of butter from the bowl. She glanced over her shoulder and smiled.

“Think fast!” Mary yelled as she tossed the roll in the direction of the boy sitting at the table.

Peter went to catch the roll but the sudden movement made him flinch and grab his arm instead of the roll. He closed his eyes in pain for a brief moment. When he opened his eyes, the roll was floating in front of him in mid-air. He stared at the roll for a few minutes before grabbing it. He felt that the hot buttered roll was warm and so inviting. Without hesitation, he bit into the warm treat. Soreness did not hinder Peter from enjoying a fine warm dinner roll and slurp his hot soup.

Markus opened the door and walked into the room and threw off his jacket. With a flick of his hand the jacket left his hand and flew to its nail that was stationed next to a burning fireplace. The jacket seemed to lean itself closer to the fire, as if, it was leaning in to dry itself. The arms of the jacket seem to alternate back and forth warming each sleeve and the wetness of the snow began to fade from the limbs. Markus sat down at the table and studied the boy a little while before speaking.

“I am so glad to see you up and moving about. I see that Mary has already began to spoil you.” He smiled at the roll in Peter’s hand.

With a childish grin, Mary sent a hot roll floating over to her husband. Markus smiled and reached for the roll but missed. Mary giggled as she was playing and kept moving the roll at the moment he grabbed. Markus straightened his shoulders and narrowed his eyes towards Mary. He reached once again for his tasty treat and once again it slid sideways and Markus missed his mark and Mary giggled.

“Mary, please. I am so hungry.” Markus held his hands out sideways in an begging manner.

With a wide smile, Mary let Markus catch his dinner roll and she turned to prepare his meal. With a wave of a wand, a blue and white soup bowl lofted from the shelf and traveled to the stove. Ladles of noodles, veggies, and chicken filled the bowl and settled itself in front of Markus. Warm steam lofted up and covered Markus’ glasses as he took a deep breath over the bowl. He raised his head to look at his wife but all she saw was frosted glasses and she stifled a laugh. Markus cleaned his glasses and dug into the warm broth. Mary smiled as she watched the two men enjoy their meal.

Peter sat in the chair watching the strange couple as he ate. He kept glancing at the bowls, the jacket, the motar and two adults in the room. Even though he was eating, his stomach grumbled loudly and everyone turned to look at him with a smile.

“You better eat before your stomach eats you!” said Markus.

After a half a bowl of soup, Peter could see the door open slowly behind Markus. He went to speak and tell the other’s about the door but nothing came out. He rose his hands to his throat and tried to speak again. Nothing came out and the door was opening more and more. Suddenly he stood quickly and pointed to the door. The two adults turned quickly towards the door. A flash of light filled the room and Peter dropped to the floor and crawled under the table for protection.

“Markus and Mary, what kind of welcome is that?” said Dragonfly. “It’s a good thing that spell doesn’t work on me.”

“I’m sorry Dragonfly, we are so jumpy as of late. We know that Peter will be hunted so we have been trying to be on alert. I guess we are too alert.” Mary crouched down to coax Peter from under the table.

Dragonfly strolled over to Mary’s side and peered over her shoulder. Peter looked at the creature’s ears and oddly shaped face. For a moment, Peter stared at dragonfly as if he was seeing a ghost. A smile stretched over his teeth and he crawled over to dragonfly and hugged him tight. Dragonfly hugged him back and the two cried in relief for each other was here safe and sound.

Peter went to speak to dragonfly and once again, nothing came out. The room went silent as everyone realized that Peter couldn’t speak. Peter kept trying to speak and ask questions but no one could understand what he wanted. Soon, his frustration, drove him to surrender to the non-verbal life he might live.

“He was in a boarding school for a few years. Perhaps, he can read and write?” Mary walked to a dresser and pulled out a pencil and paper and placed it in front of Peter. “Can you write what you need to say?”

With a sigh, Peter picked up the pencil and began to write. “Where am I?”

“You are in a small town in Wisconsin.” said Mary.

Peter shook his head from side to side and wrote, “Why am I here?”

Dragonfly walked over to they boy. “I saw what happened to your dad and what the villageres did to you and your family. I saw your magic and so did the villagers, so, they hung you. I saved you from being hung. My friend Joseph asked Mary and Markus to take care of you for awhile. So, we brought you here.”

Peter looked around the cabin and wrote, “Am I dreaming? Is all this stuff happening or am I loosing my mind?”

Markus’ laughter filled the room, “Oh well, this is magic my boy. Mary and I are magic folks.”

Peter’s expression was one of no comprehension. “What is magic?”

Dragonfly‘s head tilted sideways as he struggled to smile at the boy. “Do you remember the days when we went fishing? Do you remember how the fish would jump out of the stream and land right in our hands?” He waited for the boy to nod. “Remember, I told you to just ‘WILL’ them to come and jump into your hand?” He waited for another nod from Peter. “Magic is something that is in a person. An energy of sorts. Mary and Markus use wands to focus their magic but Natives, their magic is from deep inside and very spiritual and earthly in nature. Most of the Native’s magic us unseen but very powerful once one learns to use it right. Some use such objects such as feathers, pipes, drums shakers, dancing and many other means to wield magic. Someday, you may discover a tool you can use to focus your magic. However, inside you, is wind magic.”

Peter was still lookin at his hands as if the fish was still laying there. He shifted the pencil in his hand once again and wrote, “So, why am I here?”

Dragonfly sat down on the floor with the boy. “Your dad was a medicine man. You know he had his own magic. You saw the men kill him because he was a medicine man. When you had passed out after fighting the men, your magic showed itself. That’s when the men decided to hang you so you wouldn’t learn how to use your magic. I rescued you and took you to my friends. Joseph thought you should be here with Markus and Mary. You need time to heal and learn some magic of your own.”

Peter looked down at his hands again. He dropped the pencil on the floor and it bounced and rolled. He went to speak once again and once again nothing came out. In a frustrated moment, he stomped his foot and began to walk towards the pencil.

Dragonfly reached up and grabbed Peter’s hand. He looked up at the boy and at the pencil and said, “Will it to come.”

Peter looked up to Markus and Mary with unease. He looked at the pencil and back down to Dragonfly and nodded. His dark eyes narrowed as he focused on the pencil. He looked at the pencil and back at his hand. His gaze increased its focus and thought, “Here!” The pencil jumped an inch and fell back to the floor. With an astonished smile he looked down at his friend.

Dragonfly tucked his ears down and looked at the pencil. Immediately the pencil flew through the air and landed in his hand. “Just practice my friend and you will get better.” His sideways smile was almost kid like as he looked proudly at the boy.

Peter nodded and grabbed the pencil that dragonfly held up to him. He turned back to the table and wrote, “What happened to my family?”

The air in the room became cold. Markus and Mary grew their arms closer to them and their body shook from a quick chill. Dragonfly’s face dropped as he watched Peter’s breathing increase into a pant. He could feel the energy building as the temperature dropped. The room was so cold that every breath they took a loft of vapor was expelled into the air. Peter’s energy increased and the vapors began to mingle. Swirls of vapor formed shapes of people. Peter watched them run from men with guns. Then he saw, what appeared to be his father, fall from gun fire. He lowered his head with the sudden memory of the night he was hung.

Dragonfly reached up and grabbed the boys hand. “Yes, Peter, your family is on their long walk. No one survived. ”

In a silent yell, Peter rose and ran to the door. With a turn of the knob, the boy was on a dead run and Dragonfly was in pursuit. Peter’s body screamed in pain and he collapsed in the sandy, snow and needle covered ground, and pounded his fist in a moment of anger. If one could hear his words, he would have said, “I was too late. I was too late. Daddy, I was too late.” The boy stopped beating the ground and sat there panting in exhaustion.

As Dragonfly watched the boy’s anguish. He knew every word the boy didn’t say and he felt the ache of the boy’s loss. Dragonfly went and wrapped the boy in his skeletonlike arms and held the boy tight. He whispered, “I will always run to you. Please stay here and stay safe for a spell. You will know when it is time to leave. There is another who will come. Then and only then, do you leave.” Peter nodded and the pair walked back to the cabin.

Mary and Markus was watching the two of them the whole time. As they waited for the two friends, they thought about the magic that Peter had just shown them. They whispered with each other about what they had seen and what they were going to tell Joseph and Robert. Every child is different and they had never seen this kind of magic before.

For a moment, Peter stopped and looked at his friend and then the odd couple standing in the door. Dragonfly tugged his hand a little and prodded Peter to keep moving. Peter walked towards a place of uncertainty but he trusted his little friend and that gave him strength. He didn’t understand everything that was happening, but he knew this cabin in the woods is where he needed to stay.

Markus and Mary watched the two friends walk toward them then into their home. Three different types of magic beings would come together to make sure the Natives would not lose their magic. A very different home of magic in the middle of a pine forest.