“People around here know me as Willie Greene,” he said, his words sounding like they had been spoken by a man in his late sixties or early seventies. “But I am also the shaman for the people of these forests.”

The logger let out a little laugh, then shook his head. “There are no people living in these woods.”

“That you know of,” answered Willie, his face stoic and unsmiling.

“Oh, we know all right,” said a voice from behind one of the big machines. There was silence for a moment, then a man appeared who walked and acted as if he were in charge. He was tall and thin, with neatly pressed jeans and a long-sleeve shirt that didn’t have a single stain on it. He was from the city, and Noble distrusted him immediately. “We know,” he said. “We did a survey and found there isn’t a soul living between here and fifty miles north.”

“Humans may not live here, but others do.”

“Oh yeah, like who?” The man was obviously playing along with Willie and the look on his face told Noble that he considered all of this—especially Willie and the protesters—to be one big joke.

“The wolf and the deer are my brothers. The bear, my cousin.”

“Aw, gimme a break.”

“The eagle and the hawk, my uncles.”

The man chuckled. “Catch me having Christmas dinner at your house.” The rest of the loggers all erupted in laughter.

Willie, to his credit, remained unmoved, his face stoic. “Their spirits are strong here,” he said. “As are the spirits of those of my tribe who have been buried here.”

That caught the man off guard for a moment. He turned his head to the side and looked at Willie through narrowed eyelids. “There are no burial grounds here…we checked.”

“That you know of,” Willie said, his voice sounding stronger as he went along. “I assure you, they are here and if you clear-cut this land, the spirits will be angry and bad things will happen to the white man.”

The man wasn’t laughing anymore, but there was still a suspicious look on his face. “Wait a minute!” he said, snapping his fingers. “I know you. I’ve seen you in town. You call yourself an actor, but everyone else in town calls you a bum.”

Noble held his breath, waiting to see how Willie would respond. Again, Willie proved he was a true professional. He ignored the man’s comment and continued to play his role without the slightest hint of a reaction. “That is but one of my names. I’m also known as…Manchoka, the veil between man and spirit.”

“Right! And I’m Wayne Gretzky.”

Willie bowed. “An honor to meet you, oh Great One.” Everyone laughed at that, loggers and protesters alike.