Destiny

“Listen…do you hear it?”

The man brought his hand close to his left ear. He drew in each breath softly as he listened to the sounds of nature behind him. He closed his eyes, yet they still dashed around behind his lids like they were still searching in the darkness.

“They’re near…” he said with anticipation. “I know they are!”

At about fourteen years of age, the boy in front of him leaned in with both anticipation and fear.

“Who are you talking about?” asked the boy.

But the old man shushed him with a finger to his lips. He put another hand to his head, to his right ear this time. Thanks to this technique, he could hear all things in the trees and on the ground. He could hear the leaves rustling in the wind and the creatures on the dirt scuttling about. To his left, he heard an owl hoot and a possum rustling up a tree to his right. He tried to find that sound through it, that one sound he always thought to be the most pleasing. He just had to hone in his senses just right, and he would find it.

Suddenly, he heard it. A long, monotone note surged across the sky and into his ear canal. It was one note, high and throaty, followed by two more, then five, then six. At last, a cacophony of howls floated across the atmosphere, creating a symphony that was both beautiful and sinister. The boy shuffled in his spot. He darted his eyes around, searching for danger. On the other hand, the older man kept his eyes closed and his hands to his ears. As the howls died down, a faint hint of a smile ran across his face.

“Do you hear it now, boy?”

The boy looked at him, confused.

“What? Those wolves?” he said anxiously.

The man’s face turned slightly dour.

“Those aren’t wolves, boy. Those are our ancestors watching over us.”

The boy’s face scrunched in confusion. This old man really must be off his rocker if he thinks those things were watching over them. He put his hands to his ears, mocking the old man.

“I don’t know, Uncle. Sounds more like a hungry pack of wolves to me. And if they’re this close, they must be hungry!”

The man’s frown grew deeper. Ignorance and youth always annoyed him. But wasn’t he just like that in his younger years? Didn’t he used to mock the old ways, like this boy in front of him, that his uncle before him passed down to him? Did he not act the same way? All of those questions, he reminded himself, were true.

“Listen, boy. Do you know who you are descended from?”

“Not really, Uncle.” The boy said with a shrug.

The man pointed a finger at him.

“You are descended from the Aniwaya clan, the Wolf clan. You are of the mightiest of the Seven Tribes of the Cherokee. Because of your ancestry, you are of utmost importance to our people.”

The boy crossed his arms.

“And what exactly is that, Uncle?”

“You are to be a protector, a warrior for us. You are meant to shield us from those who wish us harm. Like the wolf that protects his pack, you are to protect us from our enemies.”

The boy scoffed.

“Really? So, I’m the Chosen One now? That stuff only exists in the movies, Uncle. Give me a break!”

The man’s face grew hot. Again, the incredulousness! This boy can’t fathom the importance of the role he is soon to be given. To protect the Cherokee from all who seek their destruction was a task not meant to be taken lightly. This boy, however, doesn’t even seem interested. Shoving his frustration down, he kept talking.

“Tomorrow, boy, you are going to take part in the Black Drink ceremony. This ceremony will be your first step on the Path of the Warrior. I bring you here to these lands to give you council as the road ahead will be difficult. It will be—“

The boy cut him off, making a duckbill gesture with his hands and flapping his fingers up and down. 

The man stood up and clenched his fist.

“You, boy, are going to undertake an important mission for your family! Do you feel no sense of pride?”

The boy met the man’s gaze with his own, one that looked to be lifeless. Though his face had mockery and pride on it, there was no light behind his eyes at all.

“What do you mean ‘family’?” he asked.

“Your family! Your clan! Those that brought you to life!”

The boy still stared at him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

As he spoke those words, something inside the older man began to wince. Never had he ever seen someone so removed from his own kind.

“I only just met you, and you’re telling me I’m some great warrior for our clan?”

He made air quotes as he spoke.

“How am I supposed to do that when I don’t know who I’m supposed to be protecting? I mean, am I supposed to protect you?”

He pointed directly at the man.

“Why do I need to protect you? You seem capable of doing that yourself! Besides, I’ve got other things to do instead of this whole warrior BS.”

The boy turned around on his butt and faced the fire.

“You want a warrior? Fine! But go get it somewhere else!”

In the old man’s heart, the wince turned to pain. At first, it was a dull ache and, then, a sharp one. It was mournful, this pain. This boy, so scarred by life, abandoned by those who need him, and now he’s met with a situation like this. This went beyond the playful mischief that the old man performed. He realized that he was going to need to do a lot with him. He wasn’t sure where to start. But, for the sake of their people, he had to do it.

Getting up from his chair, the man knelt down behind the boy. Placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder, he said.

“Boy, I need you to listen….”