Free Black Feathers by Joseph D'Lacey Page A

age. Of course, the children are encouraged to talk to the Great Spirit in their own way and also to be thankful to and respectful of the Earth Amu. Maybe that was her parents’ reason for allowing her to go to Mr Keeper in the end, knowing it was for the good of all and not just for her or them. But consent did not come easily.
    “It’s not the Crowman that worries me, Fulton,” her mother had said the day after their talk by the river. “It’s that Mr Keeper. How can we trust him?”
    “What do you mean, trust him? What are you suggesting?”
    “You know right well. What if he… hurts her?”
    This had made her father angry. Whenever his voice dropped to a whisper following a venomous silence both Megan and her mother knew it was time to give ground.
    “I’m disappointed in you today, Heather Maurice. I won’t allow such words to be spoken in this house. If we can’t trust our Keeper, we can’t trust anyone or anything. You know that. Everything would fall apart like it did before. The seeds of another Black Dawn will not take root here. Do you understand me, woman?”
    Her mother had nodded, weeping silently.
    “The issue is, can we all live with the changes this will bring? Megan, you’re going to leave childhood behind in a flurry of dust. That’ll crack my heart a little, even if it doesn’t yours. It will set you apart. Even from your friends. And if Mr Keeper decides you’re not the one he’s been waiting for, he’ll set you free again to be neither one thing nor another. That’s no life for anyone.”
    Amu’s tears flowed ever more freely as Apa spoke.
    “I’m sorry, Fulton,” said her mother. “It’s my fear for her that makes me say such things. I know Mr Keeper is a good man. I do trust him. I just can’t bear the thought… can’t bear the idea that…”
    Megan had never seen Amu so upset. Her own tears came in response.
    “…we’re losing our little girl. Our beautiful little Megan.”
    Both Megan and her mother broke down then and clung to each other.
    Fulton Maurice, tested to the edge of his own emotions at the sight of it, went in search of baccy and papers. It was a very rare thing that he smoked unless the occasion was special. He rolled a fat, crooked fag and lit it with an ember from the stove before returning to his wife and daughter.
    “Listen to me, both of you. It’s right to be upset and it’s right to be a little frit. But we’re not losing Megan if she goes. She’s moving into a new phase, that’s all. That was always going to happen. Maybe, if this is really what she wants to do, maybe she couldn’t be in better hands.” The smoke made his eyes water and he coughed, grimacing at the neglected, over-dry baccy. “Let it settle for now. It’ll seem different tomorrow and then we can talk again.”
    And they had talked about it every day, with much the same intensity, until the night before when Apa, who had deflected all Amu’s concerns and objections as they came up and who had needed to buy another ounce of baccy, said:
    “I think we’ve made our feelings plain. Megan, you know we love you and hold you precious, more precious than anything else in our lives. Because of that we only want to see you happy and walking the right road. That’s all any parents want for their children. But I think Amu and I have realised that Mr Keeper is right. This is your decision to make and whatever you decide, we’ll stand by you. We’ll do our best to help you see it through.”
    He rolled a slim, neat fag and lit it, blowing smoke with no small amount of satisfaction.
    “So, it’s up to you. Tomorrow you can have a lie in like you always do or you can rise while it’s still night and walk that night road out to Mr Keeper’s place. What do you want to do?”
    Megan smiles now as she remembers that moment and pulls her woollen wrap tighter around her shoulders to pass through New Wood without catching her clothes on the pines. A lot of tears have been shed over