Chapter 7. The Sacred Oak

Uncle Possim came out of the shed. Bundled in his brown robe with the hood covering his head, he looked like a creature from another time and world. In the crook of his lame arm was an empty willow basket. On his shoulder was his apothecary bag. He never went anywhere without it. Someone might need some healing or comfort or both, and if it was in his power he would be ready to help. With his good arm he waved and said, “Good Morning all!”

All? Nisreen turned. Her entire family stood on the porch. Curses! While the family and Malik returned Uncle Possim’s greeting, Nisreen remained silent. If only she had been taught to defend herself, she wouldn’t need a guard. Papa was so damned old fashioned. Males protected females and that was that. Only, it wasn’t.

Uncle Possim looked from Nisreen to Malik and said, “I could use some help this morning. Care to join me?”

Nisreen didn’t hesitate. “Yes. Let me get my scarf.” This was a perfect opportunity to get away from her mother’s worried looks, her sister’s scrutiny and her fathers watchful eyes. It also meant she could put distance between herself and Malik. Meeting no one’s eyes, she walked into the house. Malik didn’t follow her, but the family females all did.

As soon as Mama closed the back door she scolded, “Don’t be mean to Malik. He didn’t create this situation.”

With a frown, Nisreen responded, “No he didn’t.” She wanted to hiss, but you did! Malik had been chosen for this job, because Mama was dreaming of pairing her daughters off with life mates. This situation, in Mama’s mind, was an opportunity for attraction to spawn in Nisreen’s heart. Her grieving heart was full. There wasn’t any room for the likes of Malik.

Sister said, “It could be worse. Papa could have asked Nate.”

Yes, it could be worse, but she refused to say that out loud. Nate had always delighted in teasing her. From the hook on the kitchen wall, Nisreen selected a light brown scarf and tied it around her bald head. On her way out, Granny pressed a flask into her hands, and said, “To keep you warm.”

When Nisreen got outside, Malik had pulled a small wooden wagon out of the shed. Uncle Possim’s called it his chariot. With gentle hands, Malik picked up the tiny male and placed him in the wagon.

Uncle Possim beamed. “Thank you young sir.”

Malik bowed and said, “You are welcome.”

Uncle Possim called out, “Giddy up!”

Malik laughed and picked up the wagon’s handle. Putting as much distance as she could get away with, Nisreen walked behind the wagon. Her eyes scanned the shadows. It felt like others were watching. He sensitive nose detected a wide variety of rodents and birds, but no Atticus, at least not yet. She hated that they were out in the open on display, but at least they were not alone. There was Uncle Possim riding in his chariot humming a lively tune.

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The morning sun crested the trees and cast an aura around Malik. He seemed to radiate light. His strong figure, striding forward stirred something inside of Nisreen. Whatever it was she quickly tamped it down.

They made their way along the path to the Sacred Oak. Its was ancient and its long boughs stretched out from it in huge circle. Some branches touched the ground creating a dome. Always, in the presence of this tree, Nisreen felt safe.

Malik stopped the wagon and helped Uncle Possim out. A cool breeze was blowing. A few clouds scuttled along the northern sky line. Uncle Possim looked at the sky and said, “A storm is in the making, but we have time.” He went to the trunk and laid his good hand on the surface of its bark. Malik and Nisreen joined him. When Nisreen’s palm touched the tree, she felt its life and its power. For a hundred years or more this living being had housed birds, squirrels, ants, and beetles. She was a universe unto herself. As if in greeting the tree’s leaves rustled around them and over them.

Uncle Possim bowed his head, as did Nisreen and Malik. The Sacred Oak was not a goddess, but she was a silent, patient entity. No words were said, because the voices of Nisreen’s kind were too harsh to offer thanks aloud. As she prayed, something warm and tingly traveled from bark into her hand. It felt like fresh water flowing through her veins as it traveled up her arm and into her entire body. This had never happened before. Her tired and grieving mind and body felt like a parched flower receiving spring rain. The strangle hold grip of her grief loosened, a little.

When Uncle Possim said, “Amen,” Nisreeen opened her eyes and saw Vince in the distance. His silver coat glistened in the sun. His walk was elegant. She blinked hard. Surely this was a hallucination!

Uncle Possum called out, “Zebos come tell me how you are.”

It was not Vince, it was his father. Nisreen’s heart sank so hard and so fast, she felt faint.

Zebos didn’t speak, but he did nod. As he grew closer, it was obvious it wasn’t Vince. If only it had been Vince! Though she probably wouldn’t have even had the courage to speak to him, at least he would be among the living. Now than he was gone, her deep longing to be loved by him had been eclipsed by her grief. In the passing days, she had realized, it would have been enough to just breath the same air he did. When Zebos entered the shade of the Sacred Tree, his silver eyes were blood shot and huge bags beneath them. Uncle Possim opened his arms and the mighty Zebos went into them. The strongest and the weakest of their territory were unexpected friends. Why and for how long had they been friends? Nisreen and Malik headed for the stream to give the friends their privacy.

In silence they stood. Both watched the water lost in their own thoughts. A sudden gust of wind hit. In the wind was the scent of Atticus! She asked Malik, “Do you smell that?”

“Yes.”

They both looked up in the sky. Neither saw him. Where was he? Nisreen’s eyes traveled to the trail. No one was on the trail. Next, her eyes scanned the tall grasses and shrubs. Her kinds’ eye sight was sharp, she should be able to see him, but he was no where. She could could however still smell him.

Malik pulled out his sling shot, loaded it and said, “We may not be able to see him, but I am sure he sees us.” With sling shot aimed, Malik turned in a slow circle. The wind set the tall grasses to dancing. Was he there? Nisreen and Malik sniffed the air. Atticus’ scent retreated in the west and then disappeared all together. What was the devil up to?