The Search for Soaring Hawk

Chapter 2: The Vision Quest-6

Morning on the fourth day dawned. The wind, still blowing from the south, promised another hot day. His thirst had returned. He felt weak and, despite his sleep, tired.

He wondered when he should leave the circle. This was the fourth day. Yet he had the feeling something more needed to happen. He was not sure he could return to the village with the revelations he had received. He didn’t even have a man’s name.

He heard a screech overhead. The hawk flew above him. It seemed to be purposely remaining over his circle. Around and around it went. Small Hawk thought it to be a beautiful sight. Higher and higher the bird flew, soaring on the warm south wind. A feather detached itself from the wing and floated downward. It came directly into the circle, into Small Hawk’s outstretched hands—a feather from his spirit guide, a token from a soaring hawk.

“All right,” came the now-familiar growly voice, “the quest is over. Come out of the circle, Soaring Hawk.”

He turned and saw the bear. “Over? If the quest is over, how can I still see you? And what did you call me?”

“Soaring Hawk. Don’t you even recognize your name? Or would you rather be called Small Hawk for the rest of your life?”

Soaring Hawk smiled. He had received his name after all. “No, Soaring Hawk is a good name. I will bear it with honor.”

“That’s better,” said the bear. “Now come out of the circle and we’ll find you some food and water.”

The young man looked around the circle that had been his home for four days. He took the pouch which Rides the Wind had given him. He placed the feather, his token from his spirit guide, inside and hung it around his neck. He felt a wave of happiness tinged with curiosity as he prepared to step across the line. He looked up at the nest, then at the bear, and stepped out.

“Come on,” said the bear. “This way.”

Soaring Hawk started to follow the bear, remembered his breechclout and returned to the oak to retrieve it. Trying to put it on and keep up with the bear made for a hard go. The beast kept urging him on. Finally, he gave up trying to dress and just trotted behind the bear.

Rounding a bend, he came to a small lake. The water looked so inviting. He hesitated on the bank.

“Go ahead,” said the bear. “You need to clean off, and you need to drink, but only a small amount or you’ll make yourself sick.”

Soaring Hawk dove into the water. It was cool and refreshing. He stood and scooped up several small handfuls. He looked back to the bank. The bear sat waiting. As Soaring Hawk waded out of the water, the bear rose and walked a short distance to a thicket of wild blackberries.

“Eat,” the bear commanded.

The young man picked several handfuls and ate. They tasted wonderful.

When he had eaten his fill, he took time to dress, and then sat cross-legged on the grass looking at the bear.

“How is it you are still with me when I have left the circle? Rides the Wind said once I did that, the quest was over.”

The bear had lowered itself to the ground and now returned the boy’s stare, with paws crossed in front of him.

“Rides the Wind is from your father’s side of you. I am from your mother’s. I do not follow the rules of the people.”

“But,” Soaring Hawk protested, “I am of the people. I live among them. I am not a white.”

“Oh, aren’t you? You know the language of the white man. Have you not noticed we are speaking in that language now?”

Soaring Hawk considered this.

“And besides that, you have the body of a white man. You are stocky and your muscles are heavy and full. You are not slender and sinewy as the men of the people. Your body is beginning to be covered with hair. Come.”

The bear got up and walked back to the water’s edge. Soaring Hawk followed.

“Look into the water. What do you see?”

He looked at his reflection in the calm, clear water. What he saw was a handsome face, but not the face of a man of the people. He saw a dark-haired white man. His eyes were dark like those of his father, but his features were like those of his mother, only masculine.

“Look at your hair,” the bear suggested.

Looking once more at his image in the water, he saw his hair was not straight. It was wavy. And when the sun shone on it, he could see his dark hair was not really black, but dark brown, with hints of red. He frowned.

“Do these things trouble you?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to be different from my people.”

“You may come to value that difference more and more in time. But enough. It’s time for me to leave you. You’ve learned what you can from me.”

With those words, the bear turned and walked away. At the edge of the forest, it paused and looked back. “One more thing,” said the bear. “It would be good to keep in mind the name by which your mother calls you.”

This puzzled Soaring Hawk, but he raised his hand in farewell.