Lone Caribou had left his friend behind. Lentcha was back in her village, hoping to find her relatives again, while the lonely walker did not even turn back once for fear of not being able to leave her behind. He was heading straight into the wilderness, believing he would meet exactly what he believed to be his essence. Nature seemed to him as the mother he had never known. He could trust nature, speak to the trees around him, confess his fears and interrogations. Relying in nature somehow comforted him, the wilderness felt as a refuge to him. All the beauty surrounding him – surrounding them – as he knew the woods did not belong only to him. He was not used to such a feeling of possession. He was capable and even happy to share the forest with animals and individuals. Perhaps he was still too young to learn about social relationships which imply economic rules and eventually lead to violent confrontations. He had never come across violent oppositions between clans or tribes. In his opinion, and in that of his people, everything could be negotiated and negotiations can peacefully arrange anyone.
He crossed the forest, climbing upon steep rocks and jumping from one to another, listening to the whistle of the wind blowing, hiding away behind trees. It seemed as though he wanted to escape reality. It felt as though he had experienced some feeling that was too sincere and too profound for him. Was he afraid of life or of the emotions it may give rise to? Strangely enough, Nature appeared to be his sole confessor. Each step on the ground appeared so soft and light to the Indian, Nature was helping him communicate with his mother, the earth. He was running across the scarce clearings, touching the grass, caressing the rocks as though he wanted to tell her about his late experience. His gestures were so studied, so perfect. Each move was different from another and appeared to communicate something very profound and unique.
The cold ground under his feet felt incredibly refreshing but did not startle him; he fell aground and pressed his bare cheek upon the muddy earth. Regardless of the snow that would soon fall, the little lonely one lay there, beneath the rocks, as close as possible to Earth, cradled by his one and gracious mother.
He left in a dream and his fairy led him to some place he could hardly recognize for he ignored even about the mere existence of it. It was a country so totally different from the one he knew. In his dream there were large parcels of land, he could actually recognize those clearings he had seen so many of. But there the clearings were muddy. And yet, with time, herbs were growing. Then human creatures would cut these herbs and work with them, and produce bread out of them. Those creatures were all White and they had all strange habits. Those habits were visible in their clothes, in their means of transportation, in their speech. He could not understand a word they pronounced and yet, in his dream, it appears that he was one of them. Everything was going so fast, he could not even catch a single word. The carriages were being pulled by horses and ran to and from, all about him. There was shouting and screaming, everything was in its place, it seems, but he was among them without even being noticed. He appeared to be a common one among common population. The next sequence, for it appeared as a sequence, led him into narrow streets where the stony walls prevented the sun from heating the ground. The boy was shocked to see on the one hand these walls made of stones and to picture the dirt in the streets. There seemed to be a contradiction between these two elements. Still unnoticed he kept walking about across these dim streets and roads discovering on every corner something stranger still than what he had seen before. Until, at last, he came across a clearing, or what appeared to be a clearing. There was no grass, no water, nothing but the muddy ground and a few stones dug into the ground, producing a paved surface. This appeared very odd to him. A few trees were present, he could hardly conceive how but there they were. Then there was a great building with windows which appeared to be filled with magic, multicolored windows representing other creatures. His sight focused on them he could not quite understand the meaning, why did they wear robes and why were there circles about their heads? His fast conclusion told him that they were different from the common ones he had seen in his dream, but they resembled in many ways. He found it hard to make a clear distinction between the two of them, he did not know enough about them to see the difference.
Lone Caribou opened his eyes and discovered a snowy white surface all about him. It felt as if his legs and arms and body came back to life. He recovered his sensations and felt very frizzy because of the snow which had covered him. He stood up and ran amidst the trees to find a better shelter. The cold had definitely arisen in the night and he would have to limit his day-walks. Still puzzled by the odd dream he had had and feeling somehow too tired to progress Lone Caribou decided to find a better place to shelter. The wind was blowing fiercely and the snow began to fall again in the afternoon. [...]
© 2016 Matt Oehler
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