Soulstice: Luna's Dream. Lance Jr. Dow
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over the last five years since we met at the river?
“In all things of war and peace, the enemy of my enemy is my friend. We sent emissaries to the vampires. The first ones were drained and killed. But we kept trying. If the wolfen could not be dealt with, the Yuroks would soon vanish and not even be a memory in our own lands.
We found out there were those vampires that wanted a form of peace with us-- a symbiotic relationship. We would give them what they needed and they would help us protect our people from the wolfen.
An agreement was struck that once a year, five hundred of our people would be chosen to go to live with the vampires to be fed upon. This would satiate their need for blood without the death. Then together we would fight the wolfen and hunt them down... we knew every one of them had to be destroyed. It was the only way.
This pact ran across the other Indian tribes with the same result and together we were able to extinguish the threat of the werewolves. They were gone at last forever.
For many, many years we lived at peace with the bloodfeeders but then the hordes of the other humans came to all of our lands. We now had to fight the foreigners in our lands. Little did we know at the time that these humans were just another form of the wolfen.
This time, the bloodfeeders no longer wanted to help us-- the ever-growing tide of new humans were beneficial to them. We were now the threat to the bloodfeeders, as we were small in number and the other humans were many, many more. More humans meant the survival of the bloodfeeders was assured.
The bloodfeeders helped these humans as spies while keeping what they were secret. Our way of life succumbed to the onslaught while the bloodfeeders flourished.
We tried to tell the humans about the bloodfeeders but those of us that did were thought to be crazy and put into prison never to be let out. Others then kept the knowledge secret. Over the years this knowledge faded into the earth itself. For whatever reason, the Great Spirit made this decision for bloodfeeders to rise and the Yurok to fall. I will ask why when I see the Great Spirit.
You bloodfeeders were very smart to make yourselves nothing more than a myth. It’s best to keep it that way. I am the last of those that knows this secret-- the very last. You and your kind will forever be safe now Luna.”
He ended his history lesson not on a point of bitterness but on a point of acceptance. He had turned it all over to God (or the Great Spirit) and accepted the verdict. Maybe there’s a lesson in there for me.
“How did you find out my real name?” I ask him. I don’t know why. Maybe I was ashamed of what we vampires did to his people and I wanted to change the subject.
“I asked the postman. He delivers to your house as well,” he responds.
I couldn't help but smile "I asked the postman", this as we talk of vampire and Indian pacts, werewolves, and the rise and fall of human societies.
“How did you know what I look like to ask him who I was?” I ask.
“Did you forget the time I asked to feel your face and hair? I asked what the color of your skin and hair were and you told me the colors?” he tells me.
I had forgotten. It was the day I met him at the river about five years ago. It was a rare “day” feeding for me. The opportunity arrived with a deer hunter in a tree stand on a foggy day; perfect “day” hunting weather, perfect situation. One quick leap and lunch was served.
I was coming back home along the river when I saw him. It crossed my mind to take him but I had just fed. I noticed him sniff the air, for an instant as I was upwind of him, I thought he was a vampire. I drew in a large amount of air into my nostrils and smelled his humanity. As I got closer I could see his eyes. The pupils were clouded over. I could see he was blind. It didn’t seem right to take an old, blind, Indian enjoying the sounds of the river. I was about to leave when he called out to me.
“Come sit with me.”
I did and that’s how we met. We had a nice talk about animals and as we did he kept turning his neck. A couple of times he turned around on the log he was sitting on with his back to me. I thought it was a little weird but chalked it up to something he did because of his blindness. Only right now do I get that he was offering me his neck. He was waving it around like a red cape in front of a bull. Then he was turning his back to me making an attack even easier. He was submitting to me. He wanted me to bite him.
After we talked a bit more he asked me if he could feel my face. I let him. He couldn’t hurt me. If he did anything I could’ve snapped his neck like a twig or ripped his arm off in an instant. I was already strong enough to do lethal damage to any human or anything else roaming the forest.
He was very gentle as he took my face in his hands and just as gently moved them around my features. He felt my hair and let its length slide through his palms and fingers right down to the ends. He asked what color my eyes and hair were and I told him. Then he said. “Thank you. I see you now, Young Fawn.”
Luckily, or so I thought at the time, he couldn’t see at that moment truly what color my eyes were-- because they were still pools of red. Our eyes (pupils and whites) are various shades of red during and after feeding. From engorged blood-red, to lighter shades of reds, to pinks, and then back to the natural color of our pupils and clear whites as the blood is processed by our bodies after half an hour or so. If we’ve had a light feeding, or we get interrupted and have to break off, it can be as short as several minutes. But I had just had a good solid feeding so my eyes were still blood-filled pools I am very sure. Normally I would not have approached a human so soon after such a feeding, but I saw he was blind so no harm would be done.
We talked a little more and that was the beginning of our friendship. He was a human, but it isn’t against the code to interact with humans, in fact it is part of the scheme of our way of life. “He is just an old, blind, Indian, what is the harm?” I told myself. So that was my first experience stretching the code. But I’ve never broken it. Well I am somewhat now, but you’re not going to tell on me are you?
Anyway, at the end of our conversation he told me where he lived, and if I ever wanted to come visit him and talk some more, he’d like that. I did and here we are.
“That’s right. We met at the river,” I finally responded to his question.
“I asked what kind of bike you had when you visited me once and you told me a Schwinn vintage girl’s bike. So with your description and your bike’s description the Postman immediately knew who I was talking about,” he tells me.
I know now he is older than I thought, much older. The things he talked about when he talked about his way of life and that of the Yuroks always seemed from a different time than his age would allow for. I just thought he was mixing up Yurok history with his own life. You know… that he was old and confused. Now for me it is like a mystery that needed to be solved. I love solving mysteries. I want to know his name as well-- his real name; his Indian name.
“Just how old are you?” I ask.
Sorry, I still can’t call him Frank and never will.
He pauses as if he is reflecting, remembering.
“Old,” he says.
I think I know his secret. I think I know why he was down at the river and why he really asked me to come over. Only what he thought was going to happen didn’t happen because I had just fed and because I felt sorry for him. Because he was blind there was no way for him to see that I had just fed and he certainly could never have anticipated a vampire to feel sorry for a human, any human. I don’t know how he knew I was a vampire, but he knew.
“The man that owns this house is not my son. He is my great, great, great grandson. I get passed on to each new grandson as my sons are all long dead,” he tells me.
I smile. He was a very smart Indian.
“You used us,” I say.
He smiles. “I gave as well in the bargain.”
“That’s true,”