Spirits in the Park (20 page)

“You know Wampage?” another Munsee asked. “He still goes on beyond the walls of our prison?”

“He lives up in Inwood, by me,” Bridget said, rubbing Tucket's belly to keep the dog from jumping on her again. The sight of her treating the dog so familiarly seemed to shock the Munsees, who muttered among themselves at the sight. “He's pretty mopey all the time, because he misses you guys.”

“I doubt that,” yet another Munsee said sourly. “Why would he care for those he betrayed?”

“Wampage never betrayed you!” Bridget was indignant. “He is really depressed by the Trap. He's been helping Rory try to bring it down!”

“That's what I've been trying to tell you,” Soka cut in, talking to Askook. “You and Tackapausha. But you never listen.”

Askook stared intently at Bridget, as if he were trying to read her thoughts. She became uncomfortable and looked away. The snake-faced Munsee turned to his men.

“We will let Tackapausha decide what to do with this foul being,” he said. A few of the Munsees nodded, but even more watched how easily Bridget played with Tucket, and muttered uneasily among themselves. As they set of to the Munsee village, these warriors watched her secretly, trying to decide what to think about this new wrinkle.

Hours later, they continued to dive deeper into the Ramble. Bridget sniffed. Was something burning in the distance? She spotted smoke rising above the trees as they finally approached a clearing. Gradually, she heard the sounds of a soft flute playing and voices talking and laughing. A moment later, they stepped out of the forest into the Munsee village.

The clearing stretched out into a circle, much wider than she knew the Ramble could ever hold. This place was a big as a football field, she thought. How could no one know it was there? In the center of the open field stood fifteen or so long, domed buildings of varying sizes set in a rough circle, made of what appeared to be bark hanging from pole frames. A large fire pit sat in the center, unlit. To her left loomed a stone cliff dotted with caves, fires burning in their mouths, sending out the tendrils of smoke Bridget had seen from the forest. Women knelt around the fires, pounding corn and mixing some sort of thick, bubbling soup in pots set over the flames. Men sat among them, chipping at stone arrowheads or carving sticks of wood as they idly chatted. A young man leaned against the cliff, dreamily playing a bone flute, while beside him some younger girls painted animal patterns onto deer-skin clothes. Laughing children ran by, chasing a pair of black crows across the clearing. Older men and women with straight, gray-streaked hair gathered around the domed buildings, talking earnestly among themselves. Squirrels scampered around everyone's feet like small dogs, and here and there a Munsee petted one affectionately. Most of the men went shirtless, and their faces and bodies bore all manner of tattoos. The women wore simple skirts and tunics, with necklaces of dried fruit or beans hanging around their necks, and their hair fell in braids over their shoulders. There were perhaps a hundred Munsees in sight and they all stopped what they were doing to stare at the scouting party emerging from the trees.

At first Bridget thought they were all looking at her and she squirmed under the attention. But then she realized that they were fixated on the spirit dog at her feet. The longing on their faces made Bridget's heart hurt. Tucket barked once, breaking the silence, and bedlam broke out.

“Peace, friends!” one woman shouted over the din of questions and demands for explanations. She moved toward the party with quiet grace and authority, and behind her the cacophony eventually subsided. Pouches hung from straps slung over both her shoulders, and beautiful feathers were intertwined in her lush silver hair. Askook sneered at her but made no move to stop the silver-haired woman from approaching Bridget and Tucket. She ignored Bridget, however, and knelt down to run a hand along the tawny dog's soft neck.

“I know you,” she whispered to the dog. “This is the second time you have gone beyond for those you love. You are truly a great friend.” Tucket barked once, licking the woman happily. She laughed as she rose, turning to face the waiting Munsees of the village.

“I have seen but one of our beloved dogs since the walls of the Blue Abomination sprang from the earth to trap us here. That was this very dog, sent by Wampage from outside to bring me news not one month ago. Yes, Wampage has stayed true to us, as I have told you many times. Others may lie.” She nodded at Askook, who stared daggers back at her. “But not I. That one of our dogs walks beside this newcomer girl is a sign, indeed.”

“This girl is an abomination, Sooleawa,” Askook said, pointing to Bridget. “It matters not what manner of animal accompanies her.” Bridget glanced sharply at Soka and Tammand. So this impressive woman was their mother, the medicine woman. Interestingly enough, even though Soka was the prisoner, it was Tammand who would not look at his mother, staring at his feet while Soka stood proud in captivity.

“But she brings hope,” Sooleawa continued, undeterred. “When Wampage sent this dog to me, the pup could barely wait to race back out to the world beyond the park, back to where he could feel the land again. But now he stands next to this supposed abomination as docile as can be. Why? Because she brings hope. The tide is turning, friends. The day is coming upon which our exile will end and we will once again feel the land. Did not the very earth shake? Mannahatta searches for us and calls for us to return. We must be ready . . .”

“We will be ready,” a man said, stepping out of the largest cave. Everyone quieted, even Sooleawa, at his arrival. He stood tall, taller than any other Munsee Bridget could see, and that was saying something. He wore no tattoos on his face or feathers in his long black hair. Only a pair of tanned leggings and a bright belt of beads wrapped around his waist. The belt looked the twin to the Sachem's belt Rory had taken from Tobais's bank, but the many colors on this belt put Rory's plain white one to shame. Bridget had never seen anything so beautiful. The man walked with power, every step demanding to be obeyed, and the Munsees bowed their heads as he passed. Emotions warred across many of their faces: love for the man and fear of what he wanted to do. Bridget recognized him from the necklace: this was Tackapausha.

“We will be ready, Sooleawa,” Tackapausha said as he approached, “to take our revenge on those who exiled us to this foul land.”

“No, that will be our end!” Sooleawa insisted.

“Are we not strong?” the Sachem cried, throwing his arms into the air. “Are we not right? We do not seek to tear down all of Mannahatta. We merely wish to repay the Mayor for all he has done to us. And we merely wish to ask Harry Meester, our friend, to explain why he shot down my son in cold blood, even as he raced back to join his people in exile. We do not bring war. We want only justice. And once this Trap falls, justice will be ours!”

Caught up in their leader's speech, some of the Munsees cheered. But Bridget spied more than a few unhappy faces in the crowd. Sooleawa waited for the cheers to die down before cutting in.

“This child brings us this dog as a message of hope, not revenge,” she said.

“I agree,” Tackapausha said. “Though she is a demon, a trapped soul, unnaturally imprisoned in that body much as we have been in this false paradise, I do believe she brings hope, as you say. Hope for freedom. Hope for a new life. And hope for justice. Hear me! Let the demon walk free!”

Askook shot the Sachem a fierce look, but Tackapausha ignored him. Sooleawa appeared troubled, but she patted Bridget's shoulder to reassure her.

“She is the harbinger of a better day that is almost here,” the Sachem continued. “So sharpen your spears and practice your bow! Justice is coming!”

Sooleawa leaned in to whisper in Bridget's ear.

“Most of them do not believe this. They are afraid to go against such a mighty warrior. In the old days, there would not even be a thought of war without much discussion by the elders. Tackapausha throws out the rules through sheer force of his personality. But do not worry. Before the Trap is lifted, we will fix this, you and I.”

Bridget pulled away to stare back at the medicine woman's intent face, wondering what she'd gotten herself into.

The crowd had dispersed, with Tackapausha not even glancing at Bridget before turning his attention to Soka. Sooleawa and Tammand both whispered fiercely with Tackapausha, with Askook at the Sachem's side arguing right back. After a few minutes, Tackapausha turned and pointed to the caves. Askook marched Soka away. The Munsee girl glanced once at Bridget, her face struggling to remain calm, before she disappeared into the cave. Tackapausha walked away, followed by a small group of warriors including Tammand. Sooleawa shot a look of pure fury at her son—who couldn't meet her eyes—before following the Sachem, continuing her argument as they passed into the trees.

Bridget glanced around; she was all alone with Tucket. No one even looked at her, though they still stole glances at Tucket. She guessed they were taking Tackapausha's order—to let her walk free—seriously. Okay, then, so now what?

“Hello there!” someone called out. She spied a short, portly Munsee ambling over to greet her. “Demon! Hello!” The man reached her, sweat pouring down his tubby bare chest. He had tattoos of turkeys on his cheeks. Not quite as impressive as dogs or snakes, Bridget decided. His hair had been shaved into a topknot, which hung down the back of his neck. He grinned widely as he wiped the sweat from his forehead.

“Such heat,” he said. “It makes my nose itch fiercely. Hair would probably help slow the sweat, but then I wouldn't look so impressive!” He pointed to his head, which looked about as impressive as a honeydew melon. He glanced down at Tucket, who lay panting at Bridget's feet. “He feels it, too. Poor puppy. Let's get you two out of the sun and into the shade.”

“I don't mean to be rude,” Bridget said. “But who are you?”

“I'm sorry, I thought I said,” the man apologized, wiping his forehead again. “My name is Chogan. Sooleawa asked me to look after you while she attends to her daughter. I've been racking my brain, trying to think up things demons might like to do. We could do something evil with a chicken, but unless you've got good hands, they're a devil to catch.”

“That's okay,” Bridget said, though chasing after a chicken did sound kinda fun. “I'm not really a demon. I'm a preteen!”

“That sounds even worse,” Chogan replied, making a face. “Okay, no demon activities. What is left?”

“How about a tour?” Bridget asked, curious about the Munsee village.

“Excellent!” Chogan snapped his fingers, sending beads of sweat flying everywhere. “I know the perfect place to start!”

He led Bridget into one of the caves, where she was soon overpowered by the worst smell in the world.

“What is that?” she asked, gagging. “Who lives here, a troll?”

“This is my cave,” Chogan replied stiffly, put off by her reaction. He pointed to the hides hanging from the cave wall. “I work here as a tanner. I make the wonderful clothes my people wear. Unfortunately, the smell comes with the territory. I cure the hides here and then hang them out back. But if my occupation offends you . . .”

“No, no!” she insisted, even as Tucket began to whine beside her. She fought down the urge to throw up, not that there was anything inside her hollow shell to come up. “It's very interesting.”

“I know!” Chogan announced, mollified. “Come, I'll show you where we use the urine to make the hides supple and easy to work.”

“You know what?” Bridget said, backing up. “I'm a little hungry.”

“Demons eat?” Chogan asked, surprised.

“Yes, we do.” Bridget improvised. “We actually eat fresh air. And I'd love to grab a snack. Can we?”

Chogan shrugged and led her back outside. Bridget sighed, glad to have dodged the urine bullet.

As they walked through the village, everyone they passed made certain not to look at either Bridget or Tucket. But she felt their eyes all the same. All the while Chogan explained the layout of the settlement.

“These are the wigwams,” he said, pointing to the bark-covered domes. “I don't live in one, since I have my cave, but many do. See the three larger houses?” Bridget nodded as she spied some longer wigwams in the center of the field near the big fire. “Those are the longhouses. There are three, one for each clan.”

“So there are really only three families here?” Bridget asked. “That doesn't sound like much.”

“Clans are a little larger than simple families,” Chogan explained, smiling. “There have always been three, throughout our history. The Wolf, the Turtle, and the Turkey. You belong to your mother's clan, not your father's, so a father and son would live in different longhouses once the son had his own family.”