19. Moccasins and Waterfalls

CASCADE

CHAPTER 19

"He's awake!" Aiel blurted.

The words were so jarring that Cascade's body reacted before his mind could catch up. He sprang to his feet, the sudden movement causing his head to collide painfully with a low section of the cave. He had been engrossed in his projects for Entin: a waterskin and a new pair of moccasins. He was trying to do whatever he could to distract himself from his uncle's ominous ultimatum about the Journey.

But at Aiel's words, he rushed to Entin's side and found that she was right—Entin's eyes had finally opened. The look he greeted them with was haunted, as though he'd lived an entire lifetime amongst the spirits.

"By the gods, are you alright?" Cascade asked.

He kissed Entin lightly on the forehead, then held his face in his hands.

"What can I get you? Water? Food? Just name it. Anything at all," Cascade said.

His speech was pressured and rambling, and he realized that he'd lost his grip on the cool, calm persona he so often adopted in imitation of his father. Maybe this was the real him. The thought was unsettling.

"Water," Entin said hoarsely.

Cascade filled a skin with fresh water from the flow in his cave, then returned to Entin's side.

"Thanks," Entin said weakly.

Aiel propped his head on her lap and brushed Entin's hair out of his eyes. Then he drank.

"Like I've always told you—you're not allowed go and die on me. You hear?" Aiel said.

Entin chuckled, and the effort caused him to wince in pain.

"How long was I out?" he asked.

"Almost a week," Cascade informed him.

"I feel like deer shit," he grumbled.

"At least you're alive," Aiel said.

Cascade watched as Entin slowly sat up. His movements were stiff and uncoordinated, but he could move around, which was a relief.

"I suppose I've just been pissing myself this whole time?" Entin asked after a pause.

Cascade and Aiel couldn't help but laugh.

"Unfortunately, yes," Cascade chuckled.

"You shit once, too," Aiel added.

Entin was laughing so hard now he was racked with pain.

"I made you something," Cascade said.

He gathered the waterskin and the shoes he'd made for Entin.

"The hide I used is from my Journey. It's the last of the bear I hunted. The toggle is made from its second fang, the sister to the one on my skin. You're a part of my Journey now, Entin, and I want to be a part of yours—always."

Cascade handed the gifts to Entin. The wild man looked stunned by the gesture.

"Come, I'll help you get cleaned up in the falls," Cascade said. "Then we'll wrap you in furs and find you some food and wine. In the meantime, let me catch you up on what's been going on."

He offered Entin a hand and helped him to his feet. As the two slowly made their way down to the waterfall, Cascade told Entin about the week he had missed.

"So you're telling me you met a god?" Sivek asked again.

He'd been making Entin repeat the story of his time amongst the spirits over and over. To Cascade's dismay, each account was nearly identical—so much so that it forced him to wonder if what Entin experienced might not have been more than a mere fevered dream. The way Entin told his story was insistent, though, and particular, odd details matched Cascade's own recent experience with the divine.

"And this ‘god' was just a floaty, useless piece of shit that talked in circles? That makes a lot of sense, actually. No wonder this place sucks," Aiel moaned.

Everyone laughed except T'reer.

"If the gods are real, we shouldn't mock them," he cautioned.

"He said we are the gods," Sivek corrected.

"Whatever. Either way… let's not tempt fate. We have enough to worry about as it is," T'reer finished.

"I think we can all agree to that," Cascade said.

He wasn't just being diplomatic. The superstitious itch he'd been scratching burned furiously now.

"Ah. Good. You're all here." The voice belonged to Cascade's mother.

She'd slipped into the cave silently. She was barefoot, as she often preferred to be, and one of the pure white mountain goat furs his father had gifted her was wrapped elegantly around her petite body. She carried an elaborately colored woven basket, filled to the brim with wine and food.

"Hello, boys." She gestured to the brothers. "And you all—our fearless warriors. Welcome to the tribe. May the spirits guide your Journey," she said warmly.

She handed a jar of wine to each trainee and passed what remained to the brothers and Cascade. Then she took a seat at his fire.

"Your father would have loved to see this. All the tribes from one side of the mountains to the other rising up like the tide to swallow the Wolves," she said.

There was a long silence, broken only by the crackling of the fire. She raised her wine.

"To your father. And to his son, who will be chief!"

"To the chief!" the others said in unison.

But Cascade didn't feel like a chief. Not anymore. He hardly wanted the title thrust upon him this way. After all, the gods were speaking to Entin, not him. And if they were real, he hardly understood what their design for him might be. Why show him glimpses of a pattern only to pull away? Why allow him happiness only to rob him of it? He hardly imagined that reaching for something like the title of chief would be worth it. Worse, he didn't even know if he wanted it or if the idea had been planted there before he'd known to sow himself with his own authentic dreams.

Entin was grinning at him, and it almost seemed to Cascade that he knew what he was thinking and feeling on a level none of the others understood or noticed, not even his mother. Cascade winked at him, then took a sip of his wine and rejoined the merriment of his tribe, burying his feelings for now.

After all, depending on the challenge Entin drew during the ceremony tomorrow morning, this very well might be their last night alive.