Harvest Moon~Little Feet and the Spirit Bear

The moon was full and bright – it was, after all a harvest moon.  The glow of its bright light was mirrored in the small pond not far from the cabin.  It was nearly 3 a.m. but the woods were alive with life.

Little Feet closed the old screen door quietly behind her as she left the cabin that was home to her Mother and Father, her Grandmother and her Aunt Della.  She stood for a moment, enjoying the cool clean wind of this early fall morning.  She breathed deeply and savored the familiar scents of the woods; the dampened earth, pungent with the scent of pine and newly fallen leaves, the moisture that clung to the mountain rock and she smiled.

The hooting of an owl was a melody that harmonized with the quiet and beauty of this special morning, the moon’s glow providing more light for him to hunt the field mice and moles that ventured out to pick the seeds left behind, scattered across the ground from the feeders her Daddy made for the birds she loved so dearly.

The jays and finches – the cardinal – the grosbeak that spent the summer, bright yellow, some with breasts aflame with bright red color, so many birds…and there were the squirrels and chipmunks, that came every day to feed alongside the winged ones that filled her days with song and joy and to whom she felt a strong kinship, a special bond.

On little feet she ran through the woods, her tiny body, so delicate in appearance, but she possessed an inner and physical strength that one might never suspect by looking at her, this young girl, called Little Feet by all that knew her.

She was not afraid of the darkness of night, or the woods and mountains on which she lived, or any creature that shared the land.

They were as much family to her as Momma, Daddy, Grandmother and Aunt Della. 

They were safe here in their mountain home.  They had all they needed and most of all they were free.  Little Feet cherished her freedom, but it made her feel sad too.  She was free, while so many of her people were gone forever, forced away from their homelands or worse, killed by the white soldiers or the whites who came and said they owned the land and that all of the people had to leave because they were trespassers.

Little Feet heard of the talk between her elders about the terrible things that were done to their relatives and friends simply because they were Indian.  Daddy would say over and over no one owns the land – but the whites who came had papers and said they owned what had always been the homeland of her people for hundreds of years, long before she danced in the woods and swam in the clean rivers, creeks and ponds.

She was free to do that, but not many Cherokee were free anymore.  Not any Indian.

This morning was very special, with the Harvest Moon’s glorious light making it nearly daytime, but the light was soft and warm, like the comforting flicker of the old lamp that her Daddy would light at the table every night, as he sat drinking coffee and smoking his old worn pipe.

She ran by the small pond, stopping for a moment to look at her reflection staring back – again the owl hooted – and she followed its sound, running past the pond, through the wet woodland grass and up the path into the woods where she had her special place.  Her dreaming place, she called it.

There stood a huge rock, the mica within it, sparkled in the moonlight like hundreds of precious gems.  She scrambled up it, and sat on top, looking out over all she loved and the owl hooted three times.

She heard the sound of branches breaking, and thought it could be a black bear roaming through the thick woods in search of food it needed for its long winter’s rest.

“Bear, is that you?” she whispered in the quiet.  No sooner had the words escaped her lips when she was grabbed hard, her mouth covered by a big hand, until she felt the very breath of her being would be taken forever from her.  She tried to kick or scream, but the man who held her was strong, so much stronger than she and he hurried back into the thick woods, hiding from the light of the harvest moon.

The light of the fire within the cabin became dimmer as he carried her further into the woods.  “Don’t make a sound girlie girl, and maybe I’ll let you live.”  His voice was gruff and he sounded mean.

He walked for quite a distance, before finally stopping.   He finally took his hand away from her mouth, but not before warning her not to make a sound or he would kill her.  He smelled of sweat and when he was turned, Little Feet studied his face in the darkness. What little she could see was that he had a thick beard and was wearing an old worn hat.  She could not see his eyes clearly but she knew in her heart they were mean eyes.

“Well, well, what do I find this harvest moon?  I’ve found myself a sweet little pumpkin that’s what I’ve found.”  The man said, and he chuckled, reminding Little Feet of the sound of an old hen. “A little “red” pumpkin is what I found.” And he laughed again.

Only a short time before Little Feet was free and safe and happy.  Now she was terrified, for she knew this man would kill her and she could not fight his strength.

She prayed silently that her death be swift and that the man not find their cabin home and hurt her family.

She saw him begin to unbuckle his belt and she thought he intended to beat her, in her innocence she didn’t know what his dark heart truly intended.

“Take that dress off girlie girl.”  He demanded. 

The owl hooted three times.

Little Feet stood there, hesitating for a moment, more afraid than she had ever been in her life.  “Did you hear me girl?” he asked, his voice sounding different this time.  He reached out and grabbed her shoulder and with his big hands began to tug at her dress.

The owl hooted three times.

Little Feet closed her eyes and shivered, praying silently that the end come soon and he would disappear to where ever he had come from and her family would be safe.

Suddenly, there was an explosion of sound in the woods.  Thick, low lying limbs were torn from the trees that surrounded them, as a huge dark shape rushed toward them.  Little Feet opened her eyes for a moment as the dark shape grabbed the man and he began to scream as the dark shape roared – it was the Spirit Bear who lived in the woods, the one she always knew was close by, and who she knew would never hurt her. 

The Bear stood tall, oh so much taller than the man!  With one swift movement of its strong paw, the Spirit Bear felled the man to the ground, killing him instantly.

Little Feet opened her eyes and the bear approached her slowly. He scooped her up into the warmth and safety of his thick furry chest, and carried her back toward the safety of her dreaming place.

The owl hooted three times.

The huge black bear placed her gently upon her rock and stepped back. Again the owl hooted three times and it was then the great bear spoke to her.

Little Feet I am your Spirit Bear, your protector and guardian.  No harm will ever befall you for I will be with you for all the days of your life.

Little Feet smiled at the Bear and then she spoke to him in a soft and loving voice.  Thank you my brother for saving my life.

You say Spirit Bear you will be with me all the days of my life, will you stay with me and watch the sun rise and the new day begin?  The Bear nodded and together the small young girl and the huge black bear sat together and watched as the sun began to rise in the east, while the harvest moon still glowed.

For one precious moment the two lights joined as one and from that day forward, Little Feet and her family were protected from all who might come with an evil intent.

They lived out their days in the small cabin upon the mountain they loved and they were free – forever free.

Svhyeyi Aga

Cherokee

September 24, 2002 ©