Ikfael’s response to my story was unexpected—that is to say, she didn’t have much of one. All she did was to glance sideways at me, her expression reminiscent of my daughter Alex when she was a teen: a mixture of ‘why are you so weird,’ ‘how do you get into these situations,’ and ‘I told you so.’
I’d thought she’d react more. After all, Ikfael had been wary of the uekisheile when I first brought them home. She had kept her distance for five days before eventually deciding that the lichen wasn’t planning to take over the Glen. Now, she looked at me like an idiot for being worried.
“Isn’t this what you wanted?” Ikfael signed. “Why else let that thing into you and allow it to stay?”
The flicker of her paws at the end was the same signal of uncertainty the hunters used. That and the way she tilted her head told me she was genuinely confused.
“I wasn’t willing at first,” I said, explaining. “They were intending to eat me.”
“So what changed?”
“The uekisheile became curious about me and my life. It was so different from theirs. Then, when I shared some of my stories, I felt them respond…” I thought back to those moments just after killing the chliapp lion. “There was a purity to their regard. I felt like we’d be okay even if the situation was worrisome.”
“And their regard changed?”
“No,” I said. Even now, I could sense the uekisheile’s protective care of me and my new family.
Ikfael clicked her tongue. “So what’s the problem?”
“I don’t want to lose myself,” I said. “In the other world, I had to work a long time to figure out who I was, and I’m not willing to give that up.”
Sherwood, Oregon, had done its damnedest to erase all the things that made a young Mexican boy different. And I had gone along with it, desperate as I was to fit in. All the uncomfortable bits had been sanded down until I could smoothly fit into the hole assigned to me. Except, I never truly did fit in, not for a long, long time. And even once I did, I still had people mistake me for the help—the gardener, the bus boy, and so on.
Ironically, it was my kids—Alex and Daniel—who pushed me to recover my heritage. They were curious about Mexican culture, and answering their questions triggered questions of my own about what I’d let go on my path to becoming more American.
I sighed as some of the emotional baggage that I had continued to carry shifted. It was accompanied by a sinking feeling in my belly—I had made a mistake with the uekisheile. The experience of our fusion had been disconcerting, especially in the aftermath of dreaming of the Deer God, but there hadn’t been any lasting damage—I was still myself. Even now, the uekisheile was wrapped up in a ball and making every effort to be as non-threatening as possible.
Fear was the mind-killer, and I had let it get the best of me. Panic and overreaction had never helped in my old life and it wasn’t helping in this new one either. Sure, there were legitimate concerns, but I could have handled them better.
Ikfael waved me over to the pool. “Let me show you something.”
She dove in and swam back up to the surface. Then, once she was sure I was watching, she sank herself into the water and disappeared. Over the space of a second or two, she had faded away until she was gone.
I knew she possessed the One with Water and Stone talent, but I had thought the talent’s name was meant metaphorically. Clearly, I’d been wrong.
Moments later, Ikfael faded back into view and popped out of the water with a deft twist of her body. “You saw?”
“That was amazing. How did you do it?” I asked.
“I am the spirit of this place. Of course, I can—” Ikfael’s paws stopped signing, and she shook her head. “No, wait, that’s not important. What’s important is that I became one with the water, and then I was myself again. Nothing was lost. I only gained by experiencing what water experiences. And the water benefited from my presence within it too. Do you understand? If both parties are respectful, if they take only what is offered and exchange equal value, then where is the harm?”
“But I am afraid of losing myself,” I said.
“Are you so easily lost? If so, then you should sit in the cave by the waterfall and stay there. Give me fish, and I will protect you.” She quirked her head, watching my reaction. “Yes, I thought so: this trade doesn’t sit well with you.”
“That’s no way to live,” I said.
“The river brings many different things to this pool,” Ikfael said. “The river also takes them away. Leaves, branches, insects, birds, animals—they come and they go, each changing this Glen with their presence. Often, that change is fleeting, as quick as a stick tumbling down the waterfall and floating downstream. More rarely, the change is permanent, like the flint flakes made by a boy obsessed with making tools.”
Ikfael gestured around the Glen toward where the green things were growing back after the bishkawi troop had trashed the place. “For all that happens, the Glen is the Glen. What is change? What is permanence? They are water and stone, but both are illusions. What’s real is the spirit that inhabits them, moves them, and flows between them.”
“That’s deep,” I said.
“I have been Ikfael for hundreds of years,” she signed. “Also, the cost of this lesson is another dozen donuts.”
My smile was wan, but it was a smile nonetheless. “Sure. I have enough sugar for another batch.”
She rubbed her paws in anticipation. “Good, good. I have an idea.”
“Oh? What is it?”
Ikfael shook her head. “It is not my place to say, but if you are lucky, it will be a good thing. We just have to wait for the solstice, though I will need donuts to make it happen.”
“Then I’ll look forward to it.” My smile faded. “And the Deer God, what about him?”
Ikfael sighed. “The gods are the gods. Weather their gifts and blessings as best you can. That’s all you or anyone else can do.”
“That’s it? Even though I can see ghosts now?”
She nodded. “Take what the gods offer. You will have to, whether you like it or not. Just remember that they give their gifts with ten hands. You see what is in one hand, though there are nine others, which are the consequences—the ones we don’t see.” Ikfael smiled, but it was a wry thing, strange to see on an otter’s face. “We are the instruments through which the gods forge a Path to Perfection. We can never forget that.”
I left Ikfael to her own devices, which, as near I could tell, was a beauty contest for the newly finished donuts. She lined them up in a row and carefully examined each to look for the most perfect ones. There was even a second round for the finalists before she picked five to set aside.
Shaking my head at her antics, I sat in the shade to rest and think, and found the uekisheile waiting for me. They’d partly unfurled; the impression it gave was of popped corn kernel floating in the whirlpool of my heart dantian. Or maybe a hermit crab—filaments of qi spread from their center to sway in the currents.
Tentative, anxious, discomforted—I gave their feelings my closest attention. I think I scared you.
We do not wish to be alone again.
My surprise rippled through the qi. The uekisheile’s thoughts were once more clearer than before. This time, though, it wasn’t an increase in my understanding—their facility for thought and communication had also improved. Vastly so.
We are always learning, they explained. This is our joy. One of our joys, like Ollie/Eight and Billisha and Aluali, but we do not know what to do when our joys conflict.
Underneath their thoughts was a struggle. The uekisheile was trying to come to terms with feelings they’d never experienced before: regret and… guilt? Self-recrimination?
Hold on, I thought. Just hold on. I reacted badly when we merged as one. I was unnerved, when really I should’ve just talked to you about it. The thing is… I have to know that it’s not a permanent thing, because I don’t want to lose myself. But I also don’t want to lose you either.
Ollie/Eight doesn’t fear us?
The uekisheile was confused. They could feel the fear thrumming through my meridians—not loudly, but present like electricity in a wire.
Merging our consciousnesses scared me, that’s true, but I don’t want to be a man held captive by his fear—by the things that’ve happened to him. There are stories I can tell you that will help you understand.
Will Ollie/Eight share them with us now? If we join, we will be able to see and hear and experience the stories directly.
I gulped, and the electricity in the wire buzzed. I have a question first.
Ollie/Eight is worried about permanence.
Yes, as I said, I don’t want to lose myself.
But we will gain so much, the uekisheile thought. We will become smarter and stronger and wiser. We want these things.
And so do I, but not at the expense of what makes me me and what makes you you. There’s value in each of us having our own identities—our own observations, strengths, and weaknesses—that we can then share with each other. There’s as much power in difference as there is in unity. We just have to recognize it and work together to make use of it.
We don’t understand. Will you join with us, so that we can? We promise no permanence, and we understand the importance of promises.
I licked my lips and quieted the buzzing fear running through me. Okay, I believe you. Let’s do it.
We must become one—
—with the land, we thought.
We spun our qi through the shimmering loops and whirls of Dog’s Agility, accelerating it through the required patterns. All around us, the Glen pressed in on our senses. We felt Ikfael’s gaze on our skin like water on stone. We understood that this was what it was like to use metaphors.
What an amazing concept, metaphors. To use one thing to explain another, even though they were nothing alike. Our mind was on fire, opening like a flower. Our mind was also amused. The power of metaphors was not to be underestimated, but there were more important things to think about—namely the history of Ollie/Eight and the pain suffered—
—an anger arose within us, sudden and righteous—
—easy, now. We’re older and wiser. Time healed so much. Time—
—time, so much time. There were countless cycles of light and dark, an endless pattern of waiting and watching and eating until one day there was a spark: a true light in the darkness. What followed was our first thought—the beginning of a long pattern of slow learning until someone special had come and opened the world. Ollie/Eight was another light in the darkness—
—and we felt the need, the love, and the devotion that followed. We were embarrassed by our fear of joining. We were ashamed, because the fear had been justified.
Ollie/Eight was so slow, but surely, Ollie/Eight would recognize the pattern unfolding and agree. Better to prepare for the cycle’s end and begin the rooting of the uekisheile into the meridians and dantians, in the body’s spine and bones, and in the nerves and blood vessels.
We felt dismay. A breach of trust. We are terrible.
We hadn’t known. We were a child who didn’t know right from wrong. The part of our conscience that was Ollie/Eight had tried to explain the difference once before, but clearly that hadn’t been effective.
We are fundamentally connected now.
The process was not reversible, but it could be stopped before completion. Before wholeness was achieved. The current state wasn’t stable, and the process of integrating the two bodies would need to continue for a little longer. Afterward, we would be able to keep our separate identities, while still being able to join as one—difference and unity combined.
We were still angry. We felt—
I let go of the land, and the two of us went emotionally reeling.
We are sorry. We are so sorry. The uekisheile didn’t have tear ducts, but they sobbed, their qi shuddering. We had thought—we had thought that we were smart and knew what to do.
All this time, without me knowing, the uekisheile had been fusing themselves with me. There was a part of them that was now permanently attached to my physical and qi bodies. A storm of emotions raged inside me—anger, fear, disappointment, and worry.
What else? What else did you do? I thought, demanding an answer.
We did not touch Billisha and Aluali, but in the dark, when you slept, we wandered outside Ollie/Eight’s body. We did not eat! You told us not to eat from others, so we did not. But we were curious and explored. We did no harm. We promise we did not.
I didn’t know what to think or what to feel. My chest was tight and my face red. My blood pressure was through the roof. I needed to walk, to get out of the house and cool down—except there was no house, and walking through the forest, lost in a storm of emotions, was a sure way to get killed.
I’d worried about the uekisheile, yes, but I’d also trusted them. And now I felt betrayed. So, I focused on breathing long, deep breaths—in and out—until I felt myself starting to calm.
I’d overreacted once before. I wasn’t going to do it again, but holy hells was the uekisheile in for the scolding of all scoldings.
The rest of the day was a wash. I didn’t train. I didn’t work on any projects. I barely managed to go fishing and bring dinner home. Ikfael let me stew by the fire, giving me the grace of time alone with my thoughts. She ate her share, then disappeared into the pool.
The uekisheile, meek as a lamb, did as they were told. They stabilized the connection between us—I didn’t feel a difference, but they assured me it was done.
I made it clear to them that if they ever felt the urge to hide something from me—even if they thought it was a fantastic idea and for my own good—they should tell me about it first. That feeling of ‘needing to hide’ was often a sign of something wrong. Not always, but enough so that it was a smart idea to bring it up and talk about it.
I rubbed my forehead and deliberated and deliberated some more—my fears and the feeling of being betrayed balanced against Ikfael’s advice. There was also the unavoidable and absolute understanding of the uekisheile I’d gained while we’d been merged.
In those moments, I had understood them more deeply than anyone else in my life. Maybe even more than myself. We had been one. Wholly and completely. There’d been no harm intended, just misguided well-meaning. And some self-interest, but not the kind meant to take advantage of others.
The uekisheile’s intent was to push us to grow stronger and wiser. For us to never be alone again. It was their method that was poorly done, and that was due to a lack of experience. Growing pains, as it were.
So, in the end, I decided that what was done was done. There was no turning back. Well, Ikfael might know of a way to extricate the uekisheile, but I wasn’t going to ask. Instead, I decided to live with them. Having immersed myself in their thoughts and feelings in their entirety, I saw the good in them and didn’t want to let them go.
I worried my decision was influenced by our connection, so I used every meditation trick I knew to discern the origins of my intent. It took a while to settle my mind and heart, to calm the storm of my emotions, but when I finally found a place of peace, I chose to keep the uekisheile with me. Because of belonging, the need for a place and people to which one mattered.
The uekisheile felt the need to belong, and I recognized that need in myself.
I’d been in the uekisheile’s place before: with my first family in Sherwood. And even in the early days of my second family, I had struggled to find a way to belong. I’d been just as lost as the uekisheile. Eventually, though, I’d found myself, and I now had the power to help the uekisheile to find a place and people to whom they mattered.
After all, everyone wants a place they can call home.
