Horizon (The Soul Seekers 4)

“And you don’t?”

He shakes his head, eyes glinting at the turn this conversation is taking. “As medicine man, I have one foot in this world, and one foot in the spirit worlds. And today, if you’ll stop resisting my efforts, I’m going to teach you how to bridge those worlds too.”

“Seriously?” I quirk a brow. “And we can accomplish all of that in the span of an hour? Because that’s all I’ve got, as I’ve already mentioned.”

“Don’t kid yourself.” His grin fades. His voice takes a sharp turn. “This day should come as no surprise. I’ve been leading you to this moment since you were a kid. You’re finally deemed ready.”

“I’m finally deemed ready? Or the El Coyote situation has become so dire my shelf date got bumped?”

“Does it matter what prompted it?”

“You’re in charge, you tell me.”

He laughs again, even though I was entirely serious and not trying to be funny. He grabs his belly and howls like the madman I’m suspecting he is. Finally calming himself enough to lead me through a series of turns that takes us straight to the reservation where I was born and raised.

“Why didn’t you just tell me we were headed here?” I make no attempt to hide my annoyance.

“Because you would’ve taken a route of your choosing which would most likely involve a shortcut or two.”

“In the interest of saving time and fuel, yeah, you’re right, I would have.”

“And what purpose could that possibly serve when I need you to get used to following directions?” He looks at me like he wants me to reply, but before I can, he’s off and running again. “Make no mistake, since the moment you inhaled your first breath, your life has been a test that you are always on the verge of failing. If you want to pass, and you’re ambitious to the degree that I’m sure that you do, then you need to listen. You need to pay attention. You need to let go of your attachment to things that hold no real importance. And you need to learn to embrace the importance of taking the necessary steps to do a job properly.”

“What does it matter, if the end result is the same—or, in my case, even better?”

“You think that just because you shave ten minutes off the clock and save an extra gallon or two of fuel you would’ve been better off ?”

I look at him dumbfounded—sure that the question must be rhetorical.

“Then I’m afraid this is going to take even longer than I thought.” He shakes his head sadly, and motions for me to drive on.

Instead of directing me to his house like I thought, Leftfoot leads me to Chay’s where he and Leftfoot’s apprentice, Cree, are busy getting four of Chay’s vast stable of horses saddled up and ready to ride.

“All set?” Leftfoot glances between the two men.

Chay nods, Cree grunts, as I resist the urge to look at my watch.

Thing is, as nervous as I am about being late for work—or, more likely, losing my job—I know better than to doubt Leftfoot for long. Around these parts, he’s honored, revered. And though he’s taken me under his wing since the day I was born, I try not to take his teachings for granted. It’s taken me years of hard work, over a decade spent earning his trust and respect, to even get to this point.

From what I’ve seen over the last sixteen years, many have knocked on his door, but only a few are allowed entry.

Whatever he insists on revealing today must be important—possibly sacred. He knows what a struggle money’s always been for Chepi and me. He would never risk a job I sorely need if he wasn’t convinced it was of the utmost importance.

He turns to me with a knowing gaze, leaving me to suspect that he spent the last few minutes eavesdropping on my innermost thoughts. Then he nods toward the smallest horse in the group—the one that’s barely bigger than a small Shetland pony, and motions for me to hop on.

I stand before the horse, refusing to budge. Sure this is yet another one of his tests I’m destined to fail, but no way am I riding that thing. I’ll look ridiculous. He’s smaller than the pony I learned to ride on.

Leftfoot shakes his head, working his jaw as he says, “Do yourself a favor and rid yourself of your vanities, and the foolish assumptions they cause you to make. You’ve never ridden Big Thunder. I guarantee he’ll surprise you.”

“Big Thunder?” I shake my head. Shuffle my feet uncertainly. But after a few prolonged moments under the elders’ impatient glare, I climb on. And, just as I suspected, they waste no time indulging a long, hearty laugh at my expense.

Chay and Cree take the lead, talking mostly among themselves, as Leftfoot occasionally calls out to various animals and birds. Many of which are considered to be dangerous and predatory—but who, in the thrall of Leftfoot’s calm, peaceful energy, merely follow along for a bit, before moving on. While I mostly fight to keep pace and stay on my steed, whose power and strength defy his small stature. Studiously making a point to observe all I can, remembering what Leftfoot said about my life being a test, and knowing this particular lesson began the moment I ran into him at Gifford’s. Leaving no doubt he’ll call upon me to access these observations later.

The ride drags on much longer than expected, consuming the better part of the day. Finally ending when Leftfoot dismounts by a small grove of trees where we tether our mounts in the shade and continue on foot up a long, steep trail ending at the mouth of a cave.

Same cave I visited when my vision quest collided with Daire’s.

She was scared. Hungry, thirsty, tired, and desperate to end it. Caught in a sort of netherworld between delusions and reality, she was just about to slip past the border and wave a white flag in surrender, when I appeared before her and urged her to stay. To see her initiation through to its end.