Page 99 of The Spirit of the Wolf

Still the man-beast kept on.

“What is it you possess that I must have?” shouted Grey Coyote at it, as though the brute held all the answers.

But the man didn’t answer, roaring instead, “I will kill you.”

Bow drawn back, ready for action, Grey Coyote yelled, “Though I would rather die than let you take my wife, it will not be I who dies this night. It is you, my friend. You.”

“Never,” said the beast.

“Come no farther,” bellowed Grey Coyote, “for if you do, this arrow goes straight to your heart.”

But the beast ignored him. “Come no farther,” shouted Grey Coyote again. His words were to no avail. The beast was close enough to take a swipe at him and did so. This was it, then. Grey Coyote let go his last arrow…into the creature’s heart.

The beast screamed, stopped, then reeled forward. Grey Coyote jumped back and threw the last weapon that he had at the man—his bow.

He prepared himself for a fight. But it never happened. The beast fell to the ground, dead.

Tentatively, Grey Coyote stepped toward him, using his foot to turn the beast over. He expelled a deep breath.

It was done. It was over. As was his chance⁠—

But he drove the thought from his mind. Marietta—was she alive?

Grey Coyote sprinted toward Marietta’s side. Throwing himself to the ground beside her, he picked her up, feeling for a heartbeat.

It was there. Faint, but it was there.

Without a word, he nestled her into his arms, tears streaming down his face. Holding her against him, he began to caress her, running his hands up and down her back, over to the sides of her body, up to her neck, her head.

“Are you hurt?” he asked at last, not expecting a response.

She shook her head, and he thought his heart would burst with grief, for there was horror, as well as tears, in her eyes.

“I am so sorry,” he said. “Vision or none, I should never have brought you here.”

But Marietta was crying too, and between sobs, she said, “How can I ever forgive myself? It is I who have failed you. The beast is gone. How will you end the curse for⁠—?”

Before she could finish, the wind began to blow even more fiercely than it had during the storm. So strong was it, the very clouds above them parted, revealing a single morning star.

The sun had started to rise. Almost at once, a golden ray of sunlight shone down, enveloping them within its beam. Within that circle of sunshine, figures of other people were beginning to emerge, misty images at first, but then, even as Grey Coyote watched, the forms became more and more corporeal.

“My wife,” said Grey Coyote, and there was surprise in his voice. “I recognize these people. They are my own clan. How? What is happening?”

From the sky above them came the vision of the spirit coyote, and as it drifted toward the earth, it sang a haunting refrain:

“Neither small nor large, nor wide, nor narrow, the beast possessed a thing that propelled Grey Coyote toward freedom. Though the beast possessed her and though Grey Coyote possessed her also, and she possessed him, he sacrificed all that he was and had ever been, or would ever be, because in his heart, there was love. Grey Coyote has ended the curse.”

He had broken the enchantment? Emotion, elation, grief, thanksgiving, flooded through him, overwhelming him. Not knowing what else to do, he bent his head so his face was hidden within Marietta’s golden locks, and despite himself, he cried.

Chapter

Twenty

Agreat council was called that very night. All the important clan members were present, including Grey Coyote’s own father. Within the circle sat White Claw, the tribal medicine man and Grey Coyote’s grandfather. Grey Coyote reposed next to this man, and though it was not often allowed, Marietta was positioned next to Grey Coyote.

A pipe was lit, White Claw offering the smoke to the four directions and to the Above Ones. Then it was passed to each member of the counsel, including Marietta.

She, too, would smoke. For without her, the curse might never have been broken.