Mohican Brave

A shining mist swirled up from the ground. Zuma dropped the rake and grabbed Tom’s hand. The wind howled, spinning the mist faster and faster around them.

“Here we go!” said Tom.

“Chilli!” cried Zuma.

The little dog leaped into her arms just as Tlaloc’s magic whisked them into the hazy darkness of space and time.

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They landed with a bump in a wood. When the mist cleared, the autumn air was fresh and crisp, with a pleasant earthy smell. Tom looked around and saw that the trees blazed with colour. The leaves were different shades of red, orange and gold. The undergrowth was thick with green ferns, and in the distance Tom caught sight of a sparkling blue river.

“Wow! It’s so pretty,” Zuma said in a hushed voice. “Where do you think we are?”

Tom hoped what they were wearing would give them a clue. Zuma was no longer painted blue and feathered. Her dark hair was now twisted into two long plaits. The black necklace was the only thing that remained of her Aztec clothing. Both she and Tom were dressed in soft leather breeches and tunic-style shirts. Leather fringes dangled from their sleeves and the front was decorated with beaded patterns. On their feet they wore beaded leather moccasins. Tom had seen similar ones in the North American section at his father’s museum.

“We’re dressed like Native Americans,” he said. “But North America is a really big continent so I’m not sure exactly where we are.”

Zuma hugged her arms round her and shivered. “Brr!” she said. “It’s certainly colder than where I come from. The sooner we find that coin the better!”

“Then let’s see what your pendant has to say,” Tom suggested.

Zuma took the black disc in her hand and held it up to the light to recite the familiar incantation:

“Mirror, mirror, on a chain.

Can you help us? Please explain!

We are lost and must be told

How to find the coins of gold.”

There was a shimmer of silver across the gleaming stone as words rose to the surface:

On the banks of the water

You’ll find a sun, then seek a daughter;

With the bravest of braves you’ll use your wiles

To find the pretty stream that smiles.

Weather’s mysteries you shall know:

You’ll shiver with your quiver in an early snow,

But October storms are soon to melt.

The treasure lies within a belt.

Zuma sighed. “Why can’t it ever just say, ‘the coin is hidden under the third tree on the right’?”

Tom was about to reply that it wouldn’t be much of a riddle if it did, but before he could open his mouth, Chilli caught the scent of something. The dog let out an excited bark and dashed deeper into the woods.

“Let’s go!” cried Zuma, taking off after him.

Tom followed, kicking up dried leaves as he ran. Chilli was in hot pursuit of a small brown and white rabbit. The rabbit disappeared down a hole and Chilli would have followed if Zuma hadn’t reached out and caught him.

“Where are you going, silly?” she asked. “We need you to help us find the coin.”

As he tried to catch his breath, Tom caught a glimpse of gold glittering between some bushes. Could it be the coin? he wondered. Tlaloc never usually made their tasks so easy. He grabbed Zuma’s sleeve and pointed.

Then from within the undergrowth, a creature stepped forward, two shining gold eyes staring out from its face.

“Hello, little doggie!” cried Zuma in delight.

Chilli began to wag his tail and wriggle in Zuma’s arms.

“Chilli wants to make friends,” said Zuma.

The creature swished its bushy orange tail. Zuma was about to set Chilli back down on the ground, but Tom stopped her just in time.

“That’s not a dog,” Tom said. “It’s a fox.” He patted Chilli on the head. “Better keep your distance, boy. Foxes can be dangerous. Their teeth and claws are very sharp.”

Chilli let out a whimper of disappointment and they carried on exploring the forest. Aside from the rustling of leaves and the chirping of birds, the woods were silent. There didn’t seem to be any paths, and there was no sign of a town or city anywhere.

“I wonder if we’re the only people here,” Tom said aloud.

An odd warbling noise suddenly echoed through the woods. Moments later, a flock of birds trotted into view. Dark feathers fanned out from their backs, and lumpy red skin dangled from their necks.

Zuma hid behind Tom and shuddered. “Ugh!” she said. “Are those hideous creatures dangerous too?”

Tom laughed. “No,” he said. “Turkeys won’t hurt you, they just look strange.”

“I think you mean ugly,” said Zuma. Suddenly, her eyes went wide and she pointed. “Duck!” she cried, pulling on his arm.

“Not duck, turkey,” Tom corrected her.

“No … duck!” Zuma dropped to the ground, just as an arrow came whizzing over her head.

Too late, Tom understood what she was saying. He whirled round in the direction the arrow had come from and saw a flash of feathers sticking out from behind a tree. Then he heard a thwang and a whoosh …

Another arrow flew through the air and tore through his shoulder.

“Owwwww!” Tom howled in pain.

He looked at his arm. The sleeve of his buckskin shirt had torn and blood was trickling out of a gash.

“Tom!” cried Zuma, pulling him to the ground. “Are you OK?”