Okwaho sat nodding his head. It all made sense. Of course Atatarho would want to end any threat to his way of war. And Okwaho did not doubt that Atatarho had the power to kill anyone who stood against him by ways other than arrows or clubs or spears. He was truly evil and frightening.

While they were still at the big village, Okwaho’s mother, Wolf Woman, had cautioned him about their treacherous great chief.

“If you are ever invited into his lodge, my son,” she said, “be careful what you eat or drink. Do not refuse anything, for that would be an insult to him. But only pretend to put it into your mouth. If he ever sees you as a threat, he may poison you.”

Carries took a breath and let it out slowly. “Hiawatha’s loss was great. But his story did not end there. The Peacemaker heard what had happened and went looking for him. I shall tell you now of how he healed Hiawatha.”

•   •   •

The Peacemaker found Hiawatha deep in the forest, far from any village. He was sitting in a clearing by a cold campfire. It was easy to see that he had been living like a wild animal. His body was unwashed and nearly naked, his hair was dirty and matted. He had gathered snail shells from a pond and strung them on a deerskin cord. Those strings of shells were hanging from a little rack he had made of forked sticks. As he ran his fingers over those strings, he talked to himself.

He spoke to himself about how he had found those shells glittering in the shallow water of a little pond. He had picked them up one by one and begun to string them together, feeling as if each shell represented a tear he had shed for his daughters, a part of the sorrow that weighed so heavily on his mind.

“If only,” Hiawatha said, “someone could lift that sorrow from my heart like lifting a string of shells from this rack.” He looked at a piece of deerskin cloth he’d placed on the ground next to those strings. “If only someone would wipe away my tears.”

The Peacemaker approached him quietly. No one could move more silently than he. Soon he was standing behind Hiawatha, who still had not noticed him. The Peacemaker continued to listen to the words being spoken by that lost, lonely man. “If only,” Hiawatha said again, “someone could lift my grief from me the way one might lift up one of those strings of shells.”

Even though he was mad with sorrow, those words Hiawatha spoke were clear. The Peacemaker recognized the wisdom of those words. It was the sort of wisdom that comes from the Creator.

The Peacemaker reached down and lifted up one of those strings of shells and that piece of deerskin. As Hiawatha looked up into his calm face, the Peacemaker began to speak.