KEOKEE, THE CHEROKEE BOY. Greg Monroe
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He had never been there before, but he thought it would be great fun and oh-so-exciting to climb to the top of it and see what he could see from its pinnacle. He didn’t know how far away the mountain was; in the clear mountain air, it looked like it was maybe just over that little hill, then maybe just behind that bigger hill. Not real far, anyway, and he felt sure if he hurried, he could hike there and back before his mom and dad started to miss him. But all that was unimportant. He was embarking on an adventure—alone—and that was all that mattered.
Just like a real grown-up.
Keokee was well prepared as he began his trek. The night before, he had hidden things to take with him behind a log near the spring. He carried a gourd full of water tied to a belt at his waist just in case he got thirsty, and in a deer hide pouch slung over his shoulder, he carried dried meat, berries, bread made from acorns, and groundnuts. He had a rabbit-skin quiver full of arrows his father gave him for his birthday, and in his left hand, he carried a miniature version of his father’s war bow. Keokee could draw the bow and shoot an arrow farther than any other boy in the village with it, and he could hit what he shot at too. He wore soft buckskin leggings and shirt, and the tail feather from a ruffled grouse hung down from his hair along the nape of his neck. His feet were protected by strong, supple moccasins made from the hide of a wood’s buffalo, which was a great shaggy beast Keokee had never seen before, but his father had. He had everything he needed, and he walked swiftly away from the village, filled with joy and exuberance.
It was a beautifully clear day in early spring, just perfect for exploration and excitement. Early spring in the Smoky Mountains was green, vibrant, and alive. It seemed that all the birds in the Cherokee world were singing a different tune, and all the flowers were just beginning to bloom. Grand, stately oak trees had just started to put forth their very first true leaves—leaves so green they made the eyes hurt—and the streams were rolling and gurgling along with fresh new life. It seemed that all of life was just beginning, just like the story Keokee’s father often told of the very first day that the Cherokee people were born. Keokee imagined that it must have been a day just like this when the Cherokee people were first created, and this beautiful day made Keokee thankful to be a Cherokee and thankful for life.
Keokee noticed a change, though, when he finally left the cleared area around the village and entered the deep forest. He couldn’t figure out what it was though. He noticed that as he moved deeper and deeper into the real forest, where the trees were so tall that they blocked out most of the sun, that he no longer heard all the lively sounds of the animals and birds enjoying springtime. He no longer heard the familiar village sounds either. The forest got darker, and it got quieter. He suddenly realized what it was. He was no longer on familiar ground. He was in a strange land that he had never been before.
He was in the wild.
As Keokee’s imagination began to work, the forest got gloomier and more mysterious. Keokee started to get scared. He remembered stories his father often told him of wild panthers and wolves that sometimes carried off little boys and girls who strayed too far from the village, and of the fierce water dragon, which no one in Keokee’s village had ever seen, but Cherokee legends said lived in the rivers and sometimes prowled the forests looking for food. And Keokee remembered the village chief’s stern and serious warning about enemy tribes like the Seneca, who lived far, far to the north and sometimes raided Cherokee villages and carried off children and women. When he first heard these stories, they scared him, but after he thought about them for a while, he suspected that his father told him such stories to keep him from doing exactly what he was doing right now. But now he wasn’t too sure. For the first time, he thought maybe, just maybe, adventure wasn’t what it was cracked up to be.
All of a sudden, Keokee’s adventure didn’t seem to be too much fun.
Keokee looked around the forest. Everywhere he looked he saw darkness and gloom; huge trees which towered into the sky with trunks ten feet thick seemed ominous, and dark moss-covered boulders took on shapes of living creatures.
Some monster or terrible animal could be lurking behind those trees and rocks, waiting to eat me up, he thought. As the wind made sighing sounds through the leaves and tree limbs, Keokee started to imagine the sounds of someone, something, sneaking up on him, Suddenly, Keokee thought he heard “something” right behind him. A twig snapped and scared him half to death—he whirled around so fearfully, he nearly jumped out of his little moccasins. But everywhere he looked, all he saw was forest. Keokee got so scared that he almost turned in his tracks and ran back to the brightness and safety of the village as fast as his little legs could carry him.
Almost…
As he stood thinking about what to do, Keokee knew he couldn’t run back to the village now. After all, he was the brave Keokee, off on a great adventure. If he went running back now, he knew he would get scolded and probably punished as well for not finishing his chores. He knew he would be the laughingstock of the village, at least among the other Cherokee boys and girls. In his mind, he could see those laughing and pointing at him, shouting, Look! Here comes Keokee, who went off on a great adventure and didn’t even get out of sight of the village before he got scared. He knew they would make fun of him.
“No, I can’t go back now,” Keokee said to himself. “I have to go on.” So he took a few deep resolute breaths, squared his shoulders bravely, and continued on.
As he trod through the forest, he came across a trail made by wild animals, winding this way and that between the rocks and trees. It seemed to Keokee that it was leading in direction of Wayah Bald, so Keokee decided to follow it. For the first mile or two, the walking was easy, and Keokee made good time, but as the trail worked its way deeper and deeper into the foothills, the going became steeper and rougher. Keokee had to stop a few times to rest and drink his water, and as he rested, he listened to the sounds of the forest. He slowly got used to the sighing of the wind through the trees and the tiny wood’s sounds that birds, mice, and chipmunks made as they carried on their personal business. He realized that the sounds that had scared him at first were forest sounds, the sounds of nature.
That was when Keokee heard a real sound, a different sound. It was quite a way off, and it sounded like something thrashing around in the leaves, grunting and squalling with animal sounds. Keokee immediately got scared again, but as he listened, he could tell that whatever it was, the sound wasn’t coming toward him, and so instead of running away, Keokee’s fear turned to curiosity, which then turned into the spirit of adventure. As his sense of adventure took hold, Keokee completely forgot his fear. He reminded himself that he was a brave Cherokee warrior on a serious quest and began to make his way quietly toward the sounds he was hearing. He pretended he was a fearsome Cherokee brave, sneaking up on the enemy Seneca. As he silently stalked, moving ever so slowly so as to make no sound, he very carefully took a little practice arrow out of his quiver and nocked it onto his bowstring.
As Keokee crept closer and closer to the sounds, he noticed that the thrashing in the leaves was accompanied by animal sounds, grunting, and growling, but to Keokee, the grunts and growls sounded like baby animal sounds. Keokee had gone about a hundred yards when he came to a forest glen where there was an opening in the trees above, which allowed a single ray of sunshine to reach the ground. And in this bright and cheerful little forest glen, Keokee saw two black bear cubs play-fighting, wrestling around on the ground, and growling fiercely at each other just like two grown up bears, fighting over territory. They were having so much fun that Keokee almost laughed out loud as he watched them play and roll around. Keokee watched them roll back and forth on the ground, bellowing and growling at each other in mock battle, having so much fun that before Keokee realized what he was doing, he had jumped right in the middle of the fracas and joined in the battle.
This surprised those two little bears to no end. They were terrified of Keokee. Neither had seen a Cherokee boy before; and Keokee’s fierce war cry, screamed at the top of his lungs as he joined in the battle fray, sounded so real that, to those two little bears, Keokee was the monster, coming along to eat them up. The little bears began to wail and scream out in alarm and fear. Their play-growls and play-roars became real cries of terror, and they clawed and scampered wildly about, tangling up in a big pile, rolling all over them and Keokee, trying their best to get away.
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