Okwaho was not sure where he was going as he walked. But even though he felt as if a wrestling match were going on inside his head, he stayed alert. He would not go far from the walls of their settlement. He would not be foolish as he and Tawis had been. He would stay where he could see—and be seen from—their village. He just needed enough space to be by himself.

Finally, his feet led him to the top of the small hill just a bit farther than an arrow’s flight from their stockade’s walls. He could easily see their community, the nearby river where the women of their village were already working in the corn field they’d planted where the spring flood had deposited fertile soil. Their stockade sat in the middle of a wide clearing. Removing all the brush and trees around their new home and their fields had been one of the first things they had done as soon as the decision to move had been made. That way—during the daytime at least—no one would be able to approach without being seen. At night fires were kept burning and sentinels were always posted. Even though their desire was to live in peace, it did not mean they would hesitate to defend themselves and their families.

The moss was thick and dry near the base of a chestnut tree. He and Tawis had come here often. It was a good place to sit—especially since the two boys had carefully cleared away all of the thorny chestnut burrs that encased the sweet-tasting nuts that fell here in abundance each autumn.

As he sat there, a bluebird came and rested on the low-hanging branch of the nearest chestnut tree. It bobbed its head at him, then began its low-pitched warbling song, repeating it again and again. It was as if the bird were trying to send him a message. His mother often told him to listen closely to everything around him. Sometimes a bird call or the sound of the wind in the trees might be telling you something that you need to know, she said. If you listen long enough and well enough, you can sometimes understand what the natural world around you is trying to say. It might be advice or perhaps a warning. You may even become one of those people, a real listener, one who understands almost everything the forest is saying.

Okwaho listened hard to the bluebird’s song. It was pleasant to hear, but was it more than that? Was the little bird telling him not to give up hope? Or was it just singing to tell the world this branch, this tree belonged to it? He was trying to become a good listener, but what was he hearing?