She stared at the plumes of smoke for a solid minute before telling Gwen, “They want you.”
“Me?”
Blink pointed, “the squiggly circle is flower and the fast little ones mean river. Lily on Fast Water. That's what Old Willow calls you, isn't it?”
She could not argue, only marvel at Blink's perceptive abilities. In another life, Gwen assumed the little girl would have grown into a bookworm, quiet and buried in every interesting detail she could find printed.
Jam and a few other girls wanted to paint her face before she left, but Gwen declined their offer. If she would meet the elder tribe members alone, she wanted to forgo the awkward dress-up ritual that enchanted the children. She even rejected Dillweed's company, knowing his fairy dust was better spent helping the children. She took off on her own, but when she saw Rosemary moping around the blackberry brambles, she invited her little sister along. The two sisters trekked together, following the smoke to the redskin camp.
It surprised Gwen that Rosemary didn't know what her melancholy stemmed from. She didn't even seem to have the self-awareness to understand that she nursed a sore spot in her heart. She insisted she was happy to have a nemesis, and she even brightened up when she talked about all the great, adventurous, brave fights she planned to have with Twill. She felt excited, but also missed her friend. Gwen realized young Rosemary didn't understand the sensation of conflicting emotions. She didn't comprehend how she could have two contradictory feelings at the same time, and so long as she lived in Neverland, she probably never would.
As they neared the redskin camp, Gwen found a long, leafy branch and brushed it ahead of her like a push-broom. She knew from past experience it was prudent to check for net triggers and spring traps whenever she visited. No mantraps snatched them up, so she and Rosemary passed into the plains undisturbed. She discarded the branch as she approached the fire pit. A stone-haired woman kneeled by it, manipulating the smoke with a sooty blanket.
“Ah, here she is.” Old Willow said to the fire. Setting the blanket aside, she rose to her feet. It took her a moment to stand up.
Rosemary raised her hand in greeting and yelled “How!” at the sweet old medicine woman.
Gwen waved. “Good morning, Old Willow.”
“That it is.” The aged woman looked to the horizon from which the sun had risen. She kept a dispassionate expression as she observed the immaculate blue of the sky. Gwen didn't interrupt, and she put a hand on Rosemary's shoulder to still her little sister. In time, Old Willow's attention returned to the girls. “The fairies have carried word of impending war-making. They say there are white men coming to ravage our forests and take our lands.”
For all the unsettling parallels she could draw between the redskins and actual Native Americans, Gwen found this similarity eerie and unplanned.
“We're going to fight 'em off!” Rosemary declared, her voice loaded with triumph, as if she'd already won the war.
“Much courage lives in those that follow Brave Peter,” Old Willow acknowledged. “The redskins wish to help you defend our home.”
“We will be grateful to Running Fox and Storm Sounds,” Gwen told her. Their assistance signified support, but it would have little practical effect. The lost children hadn't communicated with the redskins about the impending battle. Everyone knew the tribe had dwindled to almost non-existence.
“Come,” Old Willow beckoned, grabbing her cane from where she'd propped it beside the wood pile. “Walk with me a ways.”
Strange symbols and runes carved on the cane seemed to shift and dance against the polished wood grain. Old Willow walked with a limp and Gwen worried for the old woman. Tomorrow the black coats would arrive—would anywhere on the island give Old Willow a safe place to hide?
Following Old Willow, they started down a wide dirt path that cut clean through the woods. Gwen found it odd. For all the times she had visited the redskins, she had never seen this trail before. She hadn't even noticed it when she emerged from the woods a moment ago!
“I have told you many stories of my people,” Old Willow said, breaking the silence as the girls matched her slow, uneven pace. “Some more than once. Brave Peter has heard the stories over and over again—to him, they are always new. There is one story we have never told.”
“What is it?” Rosemary asked with eager curiosity. Gwen, however, suspected Old Willow had reasons for withholding it.
“It is the story of where the red man comes from,” Old Willow answered, before launching into the sacred story. “Once, with nothing yet formed, only darkness existed. It was darkness without shape, darkness without time. Nothing else was present, until a part of the darkness got curious.”
“Which part?” Rosemary asked, skipping in circles around Old Willow since she could not channel her energy into running down the trail. “Does darkness even have parts?”
“It is hard to say,” Old Willow acknowledged. “But this part that grew curious… it was just as black, but it moved and flew through all the rest of the dark searching for something besides darkness. This was Raven, and if you have ever met him, you know what a conniving and clever bird he is. He had even more craftiness in his bones at the beginning of being, for he was not just cunning but young, too. The darkness bored him, and he decided to search for something interesting in it. So
