General Fiction
Date Published: October 23rd, 2025
Publisher: Acorn Publishing
During their eighteen-day journey, Zane’s determination to fulfill a promise to his grandfather, an Indigenous warrior who exemplified the tenets of a wise and spiritual existence, is thwarted by a fatal encounter that transports Zane into an ancient realm as he straddles the thin line between life and death.
He wonders what has become of his boys. Have they learned enough patience, resourcefulness, and courage to complete this rite of passage? Will they make it out of the wildlands alive? Or will the unforgiving forces of the natural world take them too far from home to ever return?
Zane and Joseph moved with casual precision, slipping along
at a slow fluid pace like cats on a prowl. Joseph watched his father trotting
before him.
He never trips, and he
never gets tired, Joseph thought. What
do you see? What do you hear? What does great grandfather tell you as you run
through these woods? His own thoughts startled him. Do I really believe Dad can hear great grandfather?
“The way that Dad and Mom see things is so different. They
both tell me that I will be a great man one day. The trouble is they seem to
have opposite plans for me. I just wish Mom would come out here with us. Things
have a way of becoming clear out here in the mountains.”
He returned his attention to what was happening around him,
just in time to miss running into his father as Zane made a U-turn in front of
him. Not knowing if his father had seen an animal to shoot or not, Joseph
stopped as quietly as he could and watched for a signal as to what to do next.
Zane took a couple of steps back then sat down cross-legged,
facing a small tangle of bushes. He placed his spear beside him and put his
hands on his knees. Joseph, not knowing what to do, sat down about three feet
away from his father. Looking at his father’s face, he knew he shouldn’t speak,
but he sure wished he knew what was going on.
After a couple of minutes of silence, Joseph heard a crash
in the bushes his father was facing. It sounded like something was tearing them
apart. When the disturbance started, Zane began speaking Nez Perce in a calm
soothing voice. Joseph was surprised how much he could understand. He still
didn’t speak the language very well, but being around Dad and Tom, he had
become able to understand the essence of the words spoken in his presence.
“How are you, my little cousin?” Zane began. “I had hoped I
could find you. With your knowledge and your wisdom, you walk this forest
unmolested. You know more about this place than I will ever know. There is a
wise old warrior that walks with the spirit of a black bear. More bears have
fallen to your spears than will ever fall to the spears of man. Tell me, my
little cousin, if this bear is my enemy, where do I strike? Tell me, my little
friend, and I and my sons and their sons will sing of your wisdom.”
The fat, old porcupine stepped from the brush toward the
murmuring sound of Zane’s voice. As he stepped into the open, not six feet from
Zane and Joseph, Zane’s voice fell silent. The porcupine rose onto his hind
legs and tested the air with his nose. The changing breeze gave Zane and Joseph
away. The porcupine dropped to his feet, lowered his head, and flared his
forest of deadly spines. Spinning in place, he whipped his tail, and a few
errant quills pierced the low branches as he exited back into his bushy
sanctuary.
Zane sat for a moment, and then he gathered the half dozen
quills that had been left behind. He wrapped them in a length of leather and
stowed them in his shoulder bag.
They continued their hunt in silence. Fifteen minutes later,
they slipped carefully into a shallow wash. Occasionally creeping up and
peering into the adjacent hollows, they worked their way along looking for
game.
After a while Zane and Joseph were looking at a small
clearing while lying on the edge of their hidden path. When Joseph was
satisfied that there were no animals visible, he started to back off so he
could proceed down the small gully. Zane put his hand on Joseph’s shoulder and
pointed to a clump of tall grass tucked into some brush at the edge of the
clearing.
Joseph looked hard, then spotted a flick of movement. After
straining to determine what he was seeing, it was as if his eyes came into
focus and the head of a mule deer appeared in the grass. It had been there all
the time, perfectly camouflaged, lying in the grass and chewing an afternoon
snack.
As they watched the deer, a cottontail rabbit hopped out
into the clearing. Then another appeared on the edge, not twenty feet from
where they lay hidden. Joseph drew back an arrow and let it fly. The rabbit was
hit squarely. It rolled once and died kicking in the grass.
The mule deer’s head perked up at the sound. Next to it
another deer head popped up. The second rabbit ran to the edge of the clearing
and froze, looking at his fallen friend. Joseph drew back another arrow and
sent it after his second victim. It struck the rabbit in the back leg. It spun
around and started to run as best as it could.
The deer and Zane all sprang to their feet at the same time.
The deer spun to run as Zane hurled his spear. The seven-foot dart flew
straight, striking the rabbit mortally to the ground. Joseph grinned at his
father.
“When you threw, I thought you were going for that big doe
that was closest to us. I can’t believe how fast you got that spear into the
air. You could have got that deer.”
Zane grinned back at his son as they walked over to the
first rabbit that Joseph had hit.
“I probably could have. They were pretty lucky you weren’t
hunting deer, too.”
Zane picked up the rabbit and pulled the arrow that had
pierced both lungs and the heart.
“Perfect shot.”
“Thank you, gentle cousin, for your gift of meat.”
Joseph took the rabbit and the arrow.
“Boy, I hit him square, didn’t I? I wish I would have hit
the other one better.”
“They were both great shots. I only know a handful of men
that have gotten two rabbits in one day with a bow they made in the mountains.”
Zane handed Joseph the second rabbit then carefully cleaned off his spear.
Zane and Joseph field-dressed the two rabbits then tied them
to Joseph’s shoulder bag.
“Dad,” Joseph asked as they looked in the direction of their
traps, “what did you learn from the porcupine?”
“What did you learn, Joseph?”
Joseph stopped walking and looked at his father. “Dad, I
learned that I have a lot more to learn.”
Zane smiled. “That’s what I learned, too, son.”
Both smiled and continued on, each fading into his own
thoughts.
When Zane and Joseph picked up the snares, one was tripped
but empty.
“Nice job on these,” Zane said as he dispersed any sign of
the traps. “You and Ty have done a great job on this trip. You are ready to do
this alone.”
Zane thought for a moment, then added, “When that time comes
and you are out alone, remember, it seldom goes this easy. Sometimes you have
to work harder and smarter, but you’ll be okay. Soon you will find a strength
that only a handful of men now have. That day you will be a Nez Perce warrior.
From that time a thousand braves will stand beside you wherever you go.
Hunyawat will give you a Wyakin, a protecting and guiding spirit. Your Wyakin
is a private part of you. From that time, you will lose your childhood fears.
You will be a great man among our people.”
The sun was setting as Zane and Joseph were walking back to
camp. The birds sang their last chorus of the day, and the evening chill began
to sweep across the landscape. A squirrel took one last look around before
disappearing into its tree-top nest, thankful for the last moment of another
glorious day.
“Do you miss anything when we come on these trips?” Joseph
asked.
“I miss your mother, and I miss hot coffee and hot showers
and clean teeth. But mostly, I miss your mother.”
Zane and Joseph both laughed.
“Me, too,” Joseph agreed.
About the Author
At the age of twenty-two, Aaron returned to the US and worked on oil rigs in Wyoming. He later became a carpenter and eventually a real estate appraiser. However, his true passions have always been writing, developing powerful friendships, and exploring new country.
During the 1980s he and his two sons hunted, hiked, and camped throughout the western states. Here, his love for the natural world and respect for Indigenous people prompted him to write his second novel, Never Lost.
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