Chapter 10

CW: discussion of sexual assault, cultural appropriation, colonialism, indigenous diaspora

There was once a woman. She was a child of the earth and the land. A human woman who had not known the poison of humanity or the rot that lived within some.

It was on a dark night, at a lake surrounded by a beach of stone, that a man wandered upon the youthful woman resting up the shore. He was a savage hunter, raised from birth to kill and prey upon those weaker than him. And at the sight of the woman’s beauty, he was overcome with a lust.

That quiet night was marred by a brutal attack of violence, and the following morning, the woman lay on the bank of the lake, nearly dead. In her final hour of life, a stag found her body and laid down next to her as to make sure she would not die alone. And in that final hour, as the stag rested next to a child of the land, she told him of the brutal man who had come and attacked her.

As he listened, the stag’s heart broke for the poor woman, and when she finally died, he lay next to her for seven days and nights while the man still ran through the woods, hunting.

It was on that seventh night that the stag’s heart broke so fully that he gifted all he had left to the woman on the stone beach. Their souls—his and hers which still sought vengeance upon the man who had wronged her—embraced and the woman rose again.

This time, a deep anger burned within her, so she waited at that lake. For another seven days she lay at the water’s edge, waiting for the man to return. She did not eat or drink for her fury was fuel enough. And finally, he returned. He saw the woman, unmarried and unscathed, sleeping soundly on the rock’s beach. So again, he descended towards her with a savage intention that overcame everything else within him.

As he reached for her wrist, the woman opened her eyes, and the man screamed as she stomped him to death with her hooves.

The mother of the land, now called Deer Woman, scours the woods and watches over women and children, granting them love and wisdom while punishing men who mistreat their families and women.

Tomas grew quiet at last.

A deep, full silence cloaked the hikers as they all gazed into the fire. “And that’s the story of Deer Woman,” finished Tomas.

Erin turned to Marsh, her eyes wide. Many of the hikers were in their own state of shock and horror.

“What a beautiful story,” muttered one of the hikers. Everyone turned to look at the woman who had spoken. She stared into the fire, her eyebrows pressed together in thought. Her knees were pressed against her chest and her arms were wrapped around her.

What was her name? Chloe. As the hikers watched her, Chloe stood and left, slipping into her tent. Marsh stared after her, trying to battle the conflicting feeling of awe and disgust at the story Tomas had chosen to share. It felt strangely inappropriate to tell around a fire like this, especially with some of the hikers looking only a little older than eighteen.

“I think I’ll tell a story now,” announced one of the hikers. Marsh vaguely remembered his name being Roman.

Slowly the next tale began, and the awkward dynamic around the fire faded as everyone settled into their skin. The stories shifted to those of ghosts and cryptids; strange animals and scary encounters—it was another three hours before everyone finally retired to their tents.

Finally, within the comforting walls of their tent, Marsh wrapped himself in his sleeping bag while Sammy settled down next to him. Through each story, Marsh couldn’t help but only think of Deer Woman, of the horrible fate that befell her.

His stomach roiled and he felt a little nauseous.

“What happened today?” Marsh asked Sammy.

The husky huffed. What do you mean?

“Those deer,” whispered Marsh. “Those deer who seemed to know me and you? What was that?”

Sammy growled and burrowed his face into Marsh’s back. Just go to sleep. It was just a deer.

“But Tomas and that story—”

Sammy huffed again. —was just a story. Just like they were just deer.

“I don’t know if I believe that,” mumbled Marsh. As he lay there, he tumbled down into slumber.

Marsh jolted awake, clutching at his chest, coughing and shaking. Next to him, Sammy howled and rolled across the ground, paws waving in the air.

“Sammy,” gasped Marsh through strangled breaths, “Sammy—help.” Marsh bent over, coughing and hacking, scratching at his chest.

He was hyperventilating, he couldn’t breath, his heart was beating. Everything was wrong and he couldn’t stop his body from shaking, nearly convulsing. Next to him, Sammy let out several pained whines. The dog practically vibrated on the ground.

The strange pulses in his chest, the awkward pain of it—the boy reached down, wrapping himself around his companion, waiting for the ache to dim. He squeezed his eyes shut, and squeezed Sammy. The dog whined again and Marsh nearly sobbed.

It didn’t even hurt—it just felt so wrong.

Finally, the ache passed and still Marsh clung to Sammy, trying to process what he was feeling. The boy pressed his hand to his chest, right above his heart. He felt it—two heartbeats just out of sync.

He reached down with his hand and pressed his palm to Sammy’s ribcage. The dog, too, had a tandem beat, a second heart pumping in his small chest.

“Oh, Sammy,” breathed Marsh. He pressed his forehead to the dog’s. He ran his fingers through the Husky’s fur, down his back then behind his ears. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”

Another moment passed before Sammy and Marsh both sat up. Marsh reached for the husky’s leash and a headlamp. “Let’s go walk,” Marsh said. “We’re not sleeping anytime soon.”

Sammy let out a quiet bark and waited as Marsh clipped his leash to the collar. Then, the boy turned on his headlamp and they stepped out of their tent into the chilly night air. The two companions walked quietly between the tents.

High above them, the sky glittered with a hundred thousand stars, spinning and creating a tapestry across the sky. Marsh let out a sigh and watched his breath plume in the light of his lamp.

The two pressed past the tent towards the woods. Sammy didn’t stop to sniff or stare at the small critters in the grass and Marsh barely resisted the earth as he walked.

The two only stopped when they noticed a woman, sitting in the grass, back turned to them. Marsh’s pulse began to race, while his new second heartbeat remained steady. He took a step backward. Deer Woman—she was really real. She was here and—

The woman turned and relief flooded Marsh at the realization that it was Chloe who sat in the grass. However, the relief was quickly usurped by worry when he noticed the tear tracts running down her face.

He’d only talked to Chloe maybe three times, but nonetheless he walked up and sat down next to her. She looked at him and he looked back. Between them, small bugs flitted in the light of the headlamp. Sammy came and laid down next them.

“Are you okay?” Whispered Marsh.

Chloe stared at his face. She didn’t speak. Finally, she turned away, looking off into the woods. “I feel sick,” she whispered. Her words were whisked away into the night, and it was in that moment that Marsh realized that this conversation he was about to share with Chloe was one not to be repeated.

“Do you need anything?” Asked Marsh. He lifted his hand and rubbed slow circles along her back.

She shook her head and looked down at her hands. “Do-do you think you could turn off the light? It’ll be easier for me—to talk that way.”

“Sure.” There was a click and the headlamp flashed off, draping everything into darkness.

Suddenly, the world was sharper. Without sight, everything else became a bit more alive: the wind roared, and the grass was damp beneath Marsh; the pine trees rustled where they met the oaks, and small bugs brushed up against his arm before bounding away into the night.

“That guy—Tomas,” began Chloe, “he told a story tonight. Do you know where that story comes from?”

Marsh shook his head before remembering the darkness hiding his actions. “No.”

A sigh in the night. “That story is one of hundreds that were brought into the world by the Peii. They are a tribe that once roamed the lands of the Everrange. They had a way of life here—a culture, a whole world.

“Then came the boats. Men arrived on this land. They burned their way through the earth and when they found us…”

Chloe fell silent, and in the darkness she took a shuddering sigh. “Ninety percent of indigenous peoples were killed. The men brought disease. They murder and raped us, raped our cultures and way of life. Then they took our land and we all walked. We walked two thousand miles to the Mesas.

“That walk took us two years and more died along the way. And that walk, that trampling of the land became this path—the Everrange.

“We created a new home for ourselves in the mesas, recreated and rebuilt our culture and molded our life to fit the land. For eighty years we lived there. Until the industrialists came. They found oil.

“So we were forced back east and west, we fell into lockstep with everyone who had rid us of our homeland. And then they realized that they could also be us. It wasn’t enough for them to skin us of our life, but they took that skin and stitched it to their faces.

“They stole our stories and culture. Like tonight: a story about a woman being born out of pain to protect women. A story about a guiding light for young youths. A story about one who protects those who can’t do so themselves.

“And what did it become? A scary tale about a woman raped and left for dead, her eternal years of wisdom and protection just an afterthought at the end of the tale.”

Chloe fell silent. Marsh sat and didn’t speak. What could he say to that? What could he possibly voice to make her feel any better?

Sammy whined and Chloe laughed softly. In the darkness, Marsh could hear the soft shifting of Sammy’s fur beneath Chloe’s fingers. “Thank you for listening.”

Marsh smiled into the inky black. “Of course.” He paused before continuing. “Do—do you want to continue her story?”

“Sure. Thank you.”

Chloe took a deep breath. “Deer Woman, or Lady depending on who you ask, had the powerful legs of a deer and the torso of a woman. Some say she has antlers—a gift from the stag and a sign of her power.

“When she killed her assaulter, she fled into the woods, where she hid with the does and fawns and bucks. And as more hunters came, she would ask them of their families and spouses, of their children and wives. Those who told the honest truth she would lead to berries and plentiful bounties of geese and fish. Those who lied, she would clobber to death under hoof.

“One day, she decided to leave the forest and deer to meet the people who filled the land. She dawned a black cloak and dress which rested upon the ground and hid her hooves. She left the does, fawns, and bucks and made her way to the people. There, she would grace the women and children with love, wisdom, and inspiration, and she would thank the men who were loving and kind and a part of the community—the men who would hold their woman’s hand through her cycles, and honor her wishes, and love her as he loved himself.

“She would reprimand the men who were cruel to her or made to seduce her. She would drag them behind their homes and whip them with sticks. Then, when she’d finished her birching, she would send them home to their wives, where they would complain about the Deer Woman.

“And the women, who were always honored and cared for in the embrace of Deer Lady, would chastise and laugh at the men and send them outside to guard the homes from bears and wolves while they nursed the babies.

“But it was worse when night fell and Deer Woman would watch men attack their spouses. She would break down the entrance to their homes and cast off her hood. She would grab the cruel men and drag them, screaming, down to the lake with the stone beach. There, she would drown them while whispering their crimes into their water-logged ears.

“Finally, after a seven day and seven night vigil, Deer Woman finished her work and in thanks and love, she carried birch baskets of berries and salmon; she provided baskets of healing herbs and tobacco; she slayed three bears and left them at the entrance to peoples’ homes; and when her antlers fell for the season, she shattered them before hanging the shards around the women’s necks: a promise of love and care.

“Now, she watches over the woods, taking in orphaned does and keeping the woods free of cruel people seeking to kill her children and the women she swore to protect.

“That is her story.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“I know.”

Chloe reached forwards and turned Marsh’s headlamp back on.

“Do you want me to talk to Tomas?” Asked Marsh. Sammy had moved to rest his head in Chloe’s lap.

She shook her head. “No. He, like most people, sees the Peii’s stories as perfunctory. He’s ignorant and oblivious and doesn’t understand what Deer Woman is. To him, and to most who know her story, she’s just a monster and boogeyman. And she is a type of boogeyman, but she also was a lesson to men to behave and an all-encompassing promise of protection for women. To remind them they’re not alone.”

Marsh squeezed Chloe’s arm. “I’m sorry. About Tomas. And the Peii.”

Chloe shrugged. “You kind of just learn to live with it. But walking this path, the path that my ancestors were subjugated to walk? It brings back a lot of old frustration.”

“That makes sense,” agreed Marsh, “and if you ever need anything…”

Chloe gave him a soft smile. “I’ll ask.”

Marsh nodded. “Good. We should probably head back to—”

A branch snapped from somewhere deep in the woods, and Marsh froze. Chloe’s eyes shot to the forest, and Marsh tightened his grip on Sammy’s leash as the dog raised his head.

Chloe slowly turned her head, not taking her eyes off of the shadowed trees. “What was that?” Her voice was barely audible.

“I don’t—”

Marsh’s voice cut off. Standing between two trees was a deer, with two tall antlers. He gasped in pain as the second pulse in his chest pulled on him, like a thread knotted in his heart. He got to his feet and stumbled towards the deer. Next to him, Sammy whined and was dragged forwards. Not by the leash, though. No, the pounding draw in the boy’s chest was matched in Sammy’s.

“What are you doing?” Seethed Chloe. She stood, grabbing Marsh by the wrist. She followed Marsh’s path to the deer and blanched. “You idiot! Don’t go towards it!” Her grip slackened for a moment and Marsh took another step towards the deer.

“I can’t stop it.” Marsh babbled. “It’s—it’s dragging me. Just go back to your tent. Go to bed, to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning. Please, just let me go.”

Chloe stared at Marsh for a moment before dropping his arm. “Fine,” she whispered. She looked up once at the deer before returning her focus to the boy. “But I am going with you.”

Marsh was already walking forwards again. “What?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

The three strode to the deer between the trees, both Marsh and Sammy giving into the pull in their chest. Chloe followed quietly behind him.

Finally, into the woods, they stood before the muscled buck. He seemed to look down upon the three. Then he turned and began to walk. Marsh and Sammy had no choice but to follow.

Note to the Reader:

Thank you for reading this far into the chapter and story, and I truly hope you’re enjoying it. This chapter deals with several heavy topics around indigenous displacement and diaspora. I , myself, am an enrolled member of the Potawatomi Tribe, specifically the Citizen Band. I have never lived around or been immersed heavily in my culture, but the Peii, which is a fictional tribe I created for this story, has recently been a way for me to connect to my history. Through my ongoing creation of this tribe, I’ve been learning about my own tribal stories and beliefs.

Aside from this, my story will still be primarily focused on Marsh and Sammy’s journey. There will, of course, be certain arcs where indigenous topics are discussed, where they meet fantastical creatures, where they stop and go on adventures through the woods, but it will still broadly be their experience along the trail and the people they meet along the way.

Thank you and happy reading!