“Then imagine a song of peace. Keep it in your mind and let it guide you. When the Peacemaker arrives at last at Onondaga, when he stands before Atatarho and speaks to him of peace, you will be ready to be among all those who stand behind the Peacemaker and support his message. Then the Longhouse of One Family will be established.”

Okwaho nodded. He could almost hear that song in his mind already, a song as sweet as the singing of the birds or the voice of the warm wind from the summer land melting away the snow of winter.

“I have other villages to visit now,” Carries said, looking down the hill. He pointed with his chin in the direction of the sunset land. “As far as the Great Hill People. They, too, will come to Onondaga when the time comes. Their villages have also been visited by the Peacemaker and they are ready to embrace peace. Those of us who’ve been chosen to be messengers are traveling now to remind them to begin making their way there. When the people representing all five of our nations have gathered there, then it will be time.”

Okwaho felt his heart beat faster. That time would be soon! From Onondaga a good runner could reach those farthest Great Hill villages and be back within a handful of days. It would take longer for a large group of people to travel that distance, but it still meant that they could reach the Onondaga lands from their own homeland in less time that it took for Grandmother Moon to become full.

“I’ll be ready,” Okwaho said.

“I know you will, my young friend.”

chapter fifteen

THE SONG

The song woke him. He had first begun creating it right after Carries departed. Each day he heard it more clearly in his mind. It was coming to him each morning from the chorus of birds singing to herald the arrival of a new day. It was being brought on the breath of the wind. It was in the waters of the creek as it rushed over the stones.

For two handfuls of days he had been thinking of the song. He hummed it under his breath as he walked or worked. But he did not sing it out loud for anyone else to hear. It had not yet told him it was ready.

Until now.

The song seemed to be coming from everywhere and nowhere at one and the same time. It was strong, complete, waiting to be sung.

Okwaho sat up and looked around their longhouse. For the first time in a long time, he had been untroubled by bad dreams. Nor had he remained in his sleeping rack long after everyone else.