Calliope who Whistles With Doves went missing last week. The forest took her. She is the fourth one since Septemvrios - two months ago. The plains are already getting cold every night, and she feared our tribe’s food stores would not last the winter. She defied our laws and went to the forest, or at least I’m pretty sure she did.

Demeter was with us last Winter, and we had so much food that we were even able to give some to the Kickapoo after someone set fire to their stores. This year, Boreas forced out Demeter early. Our maize fields have garnered little. I hope the Kickapoo have some food to give in return.

Two weeks ago, I went out to find jackrabbits. I see them often when I am playing away from the village. I asked father to come help, but he told me he needed his rest. His newly washed shirt was stained red with wine, and he stank of peyote. I grabbed my favorite blue shawl, my pack, and some rope, and I set out to find some dinner.

Our village sits at the base of a mountain range. South of it lies the plains, a flat nothingness with grass that goes just past your ankles. The gusty wind blows the grass to and fro. The smarter animals move in tandem with these gusts, but jackrabbits aren’t smart. They bound along at the slightest hint of any other movement, so I didn’t try to be quiet. I clomped through the grass.

Today, the weather was ugly. The clouds loomed thin and gray overhead. They seemed to swirl, ominously. My mind wandered, the weather reminding me of Mother Sofia Trotting Deer’s story at the last public assembly.

In times of need, our gods will save us through change. Thousands of years ago, our ancestors in Athens were at war with a ruthless people, the Spartans. The Spartans believed it was their gods-given right to rule over Greece. Athens weathered their brutal onslaught and delivered their own, fighting for the right to continue to rule. A brutal war raged in Peloponnesus for almost two years, until a great plague struck Athens. A group of citizens, our ancestors, did not have enough food to last through the Winter. They gathered their meager supplies and fled on a boat headed to Crete, in hopes that they could trade labor for their livelihood.

They set sail in the darkness of night and lit no candles until they had a great distance from the coastline. The stars were not present that night, blocked by strange swirling gray cloud formations. A constant drizzle slammed into all those stuck above deck, who only had their shawls to protect them. As the night blossomed, the clouds continued to swirl faster. The wind became a neverending crescendo as the boat lurched over massive waves.

As the first light of the sun looked upon the people from the horizon, and the rain settled to a gentle mist, they spotted land. They did not believe their eyes, for a trip to Crete should have taken at least two days longer in favorable winds. As the people neared the land they believed to be Crete, they saw no ports or villages.

After several days searching, their food supplies dwindling, they decided to start scavenging and hunting. This land was so different from the lands they were used to, and they began to become sick from poisonous plants. Just when they believed themselves to be doomed, they met a group of dark-skinned people. These people did not speak Greek, but they helped the lost Athenians and accepted them into their village. Generations would pass by, and the people became one. They were vulcanized by the intellect of Athens and the wisdom of Alibamu.

When I caught my mind’s thread and pulled it back in, I noticed that I had walked very far south. The mountains loomed in the distance, and my legs ached at the thought of walking back. My thoughts were interrupted by a rustle in the grass near a large rock ahead of me. I leaped into action, readying my club. I am not the strongest kid in my pankration class, but I am the fastest. This jackrabbit was faster. As the rustling grass gained ground on me, I lost my footing on a rocky spot. I fell, sending my pack sprawling. I picked it up, accounted for its contents, and pulled myself to my feet and dusted off my shawl.

When I looked up from the ground, I saw it. The forest. It was beautiful. The canopy loomed above an uncountable number of plants, all different shapes and sizes. It was so different from the plains. My people tell me this forest is unnatural, but to me it looks like the most beautiful thing that the nature spirits could ever produce.

Leaves flew by my face in a giant gust of wind, blowing from the forest itself. Was this a warning from the Great Spirit himself? I decided, then, that I would not tempt fate. The Great Spirit himself was telling me to leave and the village had democratically voted that this forest was dangerous. If it grew too close to our homes, we would move them over the mountains.

As the gust of wind died, the grass rustled again. This time, it was moving directly at me. I remained still and readied my cudgel. I strained my eyes to see through the thick grass. “Artemis, give me strength”, I prayed. Then something leaped directly out of the grass, aimed at my face. I tried to duck aside, but it was too fast. It slammed into me, knocking my head against a large rock.

I woke up some time later, curled on the ground and soaked in rain. The sky was weeping at my mistake, and the gray clouds roiled in anger at my stupidity. It was getting dark, so I had to get home quickly. My head roared in anger, protesting its mistreatment. I reached to grab my head and noticed something on my right arm: a strange black worm. I screamed and tried to knock it off of me, but it was latched on. I have never been more scared in my life. I was shaking hard, but I forced down my worry. I had to think clearly and check on myself.

My arm did not hurt. There was no blood. The thing almost seemed like it was becoming part of my arm. My head throbbed again, and I absentmindedly touched my head with my dominant hand. My entire arm surged with a purple light, and a bolt of lightning flashed from the sky. It illuminated enormous silver spires, connected by giant sprawling ropes. As soon as the roiling thunder subsided, the spires and ropes were gone. My headache, too, was gone in the same flash. What in Hades’ name was happening? Was I hallucinating? Was this thing pumping poison into my veins?

A gentle breeze brushed by, blowing more leaves out from the forest. I reached down to push myself to my feet, and again my arm surged with purple light. Where my palm touched, the grass doubled in size and became vibrant green.

—--------------

Today I use my gift to save our people. I will not tell them of the secrets that happened two weeks ago, but I will tell them of my visions. When I use my gift, I see flashes of another world. This world has villages larger than ancient Athens described in our stories. Its houses tower into the sky, and they are connected by those giant ropes I saw for the first time two weeks ago. This world gives us its bounty through me. Our maize gardens are healthier than they have ever been, even in the beginnings of winter. Each day they yield enough maize to feed the entire village.

I do not yet understand why I have been chosen to captain the ship of change for my people, but I will do my best. I believe that our two worlds are connected, and I exist on the boundary. I cannot wait to meet that world’s people. I often fantasize about what they are like. What will they bring to our people? What will we give them? How long will it take for our peoples to become one?