I turn at the head of a steep ravine where a stream has cut down through the hills. It’s not an easy trail to follow. Instead, I duck my head under a tangle of blackberry canes and enter a hidden gap between the stones of the hill. A few blackberry leaves have fallen on the ground of our secret path. Still green, just broken from the canes, they are a sign that someone has already pushed through ahead of me.

The passageway formed by the gap between the stones and earth of the hill is almost like a tunnel or the entrance of a cave, though there is a narrow strip of light overhead. Another turn and the passageway opens out into a space the size of a small room. Half of the space is taken up by the four big red stones that look a little bit like four-legged figures. The Four Bears is what we decided to call them. Yugi is sitting where he always sits, leaning back against the first of those stones.

He usually teases me about how long it takes me to catch up with him. He jokes that my nickname should be Turtle rather than Eagle because I am so slow. But not today. His face is too serious for any teasing.

“Siyo, Yugi,” I say. Hello.

“Siyo,” he answers. Then he looks down at his long, slender hands. He’s rubbing them together as he always does when he is nervous.

I sit down next to him.

“It is good to see you, my friend,” I say.

Yugi does not answer. He just keeps rubbing his hands together.

Silence can be companionable. But not this sort of silence. It makes me want to shout at him. Shout what? I don’t know. I bite my lip.

“The things,” Yugi says, his voice very soft, “the things they are saying. Those things are not good.”

“What things? Who?”

More rubbing of his hands. I want to grab them and make him stop that. But instead I fold my hands together and wait.

“It is Gayusoli,” Yugi finally says. “He says that you have become as bad as your father. He says that it was you who caused Udagehi to have his accident. His father says that Sequoyah and anyone helping him should be driven away. Anyone helping him—that is you.”

I swallow hard. It is difficult to hear that one of my best friends is now so fearful of me. I wonder how all this could happen so quickly? But even as I wonder that I know the answer. Our Tsalagi people have always been worried about witchcraft, fearful that it might be used to injure them or their families. Such fears have grown worse in recent years, perhaps because of all the pressure that the Aniyonega are putting on us. When they do not understand something, far too many of our people now are quick to believe the worst.