Free Walker of Time by Helen Hughes Vick Page A

felt weak.
    Walker sensed Gray Wolf’s eyes staring at him. He looked up to meet Gray Wolf’s contemptuous yet pleased glare. If there had not been so much commotion, Walker was sure he would be able to hear him growling.
    White Badger raised his spear in the air. A strained hush fell over the gathered men. White Badger’s voice held authority when he spoke. “Great Owl, our Seer, has been told all concerning these strangers. Now he will see into their hearts.”
    Flute Maiden was climbing up the stairs on the left side of the platform. A man, stooped with age, leaned on her arm. He climbed each step one at a time. Walker could not see the man’s face. He wore a tight skullcap, decorated with thousands of small, colorful beads that glistened like a rainbow. Long, thin, snow-colored hair flowed down his stooped back. He wore a brilliant red, knee-length kilt, decorated with small, white shells. A fist-sized clam shell, studded with small, square pieces of turquoise, dangled on a leather thong around his thin neck. In his gnarled left hand was a long wooden staff. Walker could see intricate designs and lines carved into the thick staff. A calendar of some sort? wondered Walker.
    Without warning, the mysterious feeling raged through every cell in Walker’s body.
Great Owl, Great Owl
, the words swirled in Walker’s mind. His eyes clamped shut, and his throat tightened in fear. He fought through the haunting feeling to get his breath. Struggling, he opened his eyes.
    Great Owl stood in front of the shrine between Gray Wolf and White Badger. Leaning on his staff, he stared down at Walker. Never before had Walker seen such eyes. They were large, soft, brown pools of light that seemed to be able to penetrate deep into one’s soul—or gaze into the most distant future.
    Great Owl turned his eyes toward the freckled bahana. His thin lips formed in a straight line across his deeply wrinkled face. Walker saw his eyes twinkle as he lookeddown at Tag’s freckled face and curly hair. Walker thought he heard a soft chuckle when Great Owl’s eyes stared down at Tag’s skinny legs.
    â€œTell us what you see, old man,” Gray Wolf’s voice snarled.
    Great Owl’s strong, smooth voice answered, “I see two thirsty mouths and two very empty stomachs.”
    Gray Wolf lurched toward Great Owl, his fists clenched at his waist. “They are witches!”
    Great Owl raised his staff at Gray Wolf, meeting his cold eyes. “I see two brave young men who risked their lives to save one of our women. I also see that they receive accusations and threats instead of welcome and thanks.”
    â€œLook deeper, old man,” growled Gray Wolf. His face was twisted with anger. He jerked his body around, glaring into the crowd. Raising his spear, he screamed, “They are witches! They will destroy all of us!”
    Great Owl’s voice came like lightning. “I see Gray Wolf is afraid to accept the truth because the truth is not in harmony with his desire to seize power for himself.”
    The air was hot, quiet—thick with tension. Gray Wolf’s body trembled with rage as he stared into Great Owl’s stolid face. Great Owl’s eyes seemed to sear into Gray Wolf’s soul. Walker sensed that everyone present was holding his breath just as he was.
    Gray Wolf’s shoulders began to slump. His eyes broke away. With a quick turn, he jumped off the platform and stormed out through the crowd. A few men stood up and followed him out of the wall’s entrance.
    Tag let out a long, deep breath. Walker looked over at him. He could tell that Tag more or less understood what had just happened.
    â€œWhat is to be done with these strangers?” someone in the gathering called.
    Great Owl held up his staff. It shook in his old hand. “What should have been done in the first place; welcome and feed these young men.” He lowered his arm. “They will stay at my