Blurred shapes entered the clearing. No, not a clearing, but a meadow perhaps? They were large, perhaps the size of an average horse. Their faces were undistinguishable, although the tense positions of their bodies clearly showed a mixture of anticipation and fear. Six looming, pale figures with caramel eyes stood beside them, waiting. A wisp of stale air billowed through the meadow blanketed in snow. The vision began to clear and it became clear that these creature weren't horses, but some kind of wolves. Everything was too silent, it was the type of silence that chilled your bones. Suddenly breaking the silence, twenty new people entered the clearing. Wait, they weren't people- the fierce red eyes proved that- yet they acted like savages, ripping into the open field and shattering the silence like a broken mirror. Together, the wolves and six caramel-eyed figures, fought together against the savages. Quickly, piles of body pieces were piled and set alight, only clouds of purple smoke that rose into the air leaving any sign that these fires were not normal. A repugnant stench now seized the air inside of the meadow. One savage remained, guarded by a lanky blond-haired figure. The rest gathered together, discussing another urgent matter by the fierce tone of voices. One wolf, smaller than the rest lagged. This grey wolf picked up on something no one else did- a surviving savage. Too late, the savage leaped towards her, only to sink it's teeth into the body of another chocolate brown wolf.
"No!" I screamed. I thrashed my body wildly to escape the tangle of blankets that now held me captive thanks another restless, nightmare consumed sleep.
Grabbing my phone, I dialled the well known number of the one person I knew could interpret my messed up dream, and the emotional attachment I confusingly held to it.
While the phone rang in my ear, I grabbed the top of my overly large shirt, and yanked the fabric harshly across my face to remove the cold sweat that had built up there.
"Yes my, Wira," my grandmother greeted. My fear declined a fraction from the soothing familiarity of the nickname. Not many people still spoke the language of original Winnebago, but my grandmother occasionally did. Wira was a name she gave to me, saying that I had a bright future ahead of me and never failed to warm the hearts of those around me. Seeing that wira means sun, I suppose it fit.
"Nana, it's happened again except now the it's getting more vivid. The details are sharpening and I can now make out those figures..." I inhaled deeply into the phone, clutching my blankets "...they're wolves, huge wolves, Nana. They're battling and then one of them gets hurt in the end," I said, tears threatening to spill over at the thought of that brown wolf getting hurt, or even worse- killed.
"Calm down, Wira. I fear that my suspicions are correct, I believe that it's time to contact the council," she said.
"You mean, the legend is true? I...I can't be the female prophet of our tribe, Nana. All I've been seeing so far are these dreams of wolves and pale people battling in a meadow," I explained, attempting to rationalize her crazy idea.
"But you said that you feel an emotional attachment to the dream? To the people in the dream?"
"Yeah...I feel like they're my friends, that I know them. Not only that but in the very end of the dream...when the brown wolf gets bitten-" I flinched "-I just know that it's hurting it, and I feel especially close to that wolf, Nana. I just don't know why but it brings me pain," I said quietly.
"Rest, my Wira. I will take care of the arrangements. You are sure that these are wolves in your dreams?" she asked.
"Not wolves, they're much to large for that, and I can't help but sense that they're human also," I answered.
"Have you heard the legend of the Quiluete?" she asked.
"Yes, they've told me all of the legends in school, Nana. The Quiluete's are supposedly descended from-" I gasped "-You don't mean? These wolves in my dreams are Quiluete men that shift into wolves? But that's just a legend, Nana. No way those men can actually be wolves too!"
"Ah, but Wira you seem to forget that you yourself are a part of a legend come true," my grandmother rationalized.
"But I'm only half Winnebago! I live on the La Push reservation, and mom herself is full Quiluete!" I exclaimed, grasping at straws.
Silence from my grandmother.
I'll...I'll call you back in the morning," I stammered, ending the conversation before she replied.
I jumped off the bed, snatching the book of legends from the dresser. My grandmother had brought it over only days before when I told her of my strange dreams, and the way they had me feeling.
"Read the legend of The Shawnee Prophet. The council had suspicions of you when you were little because you predicted many things. They were concerned for a while but when you stopped having these visions, they dropped the subject," she had explained.
Looking back on the pages, I read through the legend of my people- The Winnebago Tribe.
It told the tale of a Shawnee Prophet, made by the Creator for a special mission on earth.
The Shawnee Prophet was one of triplets. In his youth, the devil came to him and told him many things that led him astray from the Creator's original mission, it got to the point where he forgot everything the Creator had told him. He became a bad person under the devil's influence, and was feared by everyone. He was strong, but drank all of the time. He would hunt down and beat people severely if they tried to attack him while he was drunk, and if they resisted, he would kill them. One day, his brother, Haga, died, saying that 'he'd had enough'. While the Shawnee Prophet was bathing days later, a man approached him and said, "I am sent to summon you, so let us go." The man took him to the Spirit-land where he saw the Creator, who reminded the Prophet of his missions on earth.
When the prophet returned to earth, he gave up all thoughts of revenge and began to tell his missions. Yet no one believed him. To convince his people, he called a great assembly and promised to speak the truth to them. Many believed that he was simply becoming more insane. The people believed him only when he challenged his only surviving brother, Tecumseh and proved him right.
The word of the Shawnee Prophet reached many, for he said, "Let the people give up the customs they now have, and I shall give them new ones." So many threw away their war-bundles and tossed out their good medicine bundles, but he had meant that they should renounce their bad customs. So a war-leader named "Smoke Walker" decided to lead some of the young men over to the Prophet's camp to see him. Then an old man named "Dog Head," who was very wákâtcâk (holy), announced that he would come along; but the leader said, "Not so - for we shall walk as the Thunders." "If you walk as the Thunderbirds, and I cannot keep up, then I shall turn back," the old man replied. Eleven men went with Smoke Walker. When they arrived, they found people from every nation except the Hotcâgara.
When the Shawnee Prophet saw them, his heart was glad, and he said to them, "My dear younger brothers, I had hoped much to see you, although I do not speak Winnebago, so I may not be able to address you." Now the leader turned to Dog Head, who in his youth could speak the languages of all the neighbouring nations, and asked him to translate. Dog Head said, "I can understand him, but I do not know whether I can speak to him." "Do your best," said the leader, "for anything is better than nothing." Then Dog Head spoke to the Prophet and said he thought that he might not be understood, but the Prophet understood him and they had a long conversation: "My dear younger brothers," said the Prophet, "we are not getting along in life as we should because we have not done the right thing." Then he told the Hotcâgara all that had happened to him and how the Creator had sent him to earth to accomplish a mission. Then he instructed the people to build a long ceremonial lodge. Some were chosen to go after bears, and each one he sent forth did not fail to come back with one. Thus they believed him, and knew him to be holy.
Since the time of the Shawnee Prophet many prophets have risen up and passed away, yet they never spoke the truth as he had. They spoke that they might be praised, or only that they might be heard. He foresaw that a woman would prophecy, and she would create many alliances, and bond many enemies. He also said that a boy would rise as a prophet and that all should give him ear. The Peyote people believe that they have realized this prophesy. The Shawnee Prophet said many other things that have come to pass. He spoke the truth when he said that the Hotcâgara would be able to write their own tongue. He said that the time would come when trees would uproot and travel about the country - thus it is when trees have been logged and put upon trains to the mill. All this he prophesied many generations ago, and he spoke the truth like no other that has come afterwards.
I slammed the book shut and I tossed it across the room.
"Why me? I could never handle the responsibility that would comes with being the chosen legendary female prophet. This has to be some mistake," I said to myself.
I, Neenah Blackhawk, can predict the future. I am the chosen female prophet named in the Winnebago legend of the Shawnee Prophet.
As I came to terms with this, I felt a shimmer in the air. Although it seemed foolish, I couldn't help but think that it was the encouragement of the spirits sent to watch over me.
"If it's my friends of the Quiluete Tribe that I'm meant to help and protect, then so be it. Just please guide me in the right direction," I prayed.
I flopped back onto the bed, begging sleep to take me back, but knowing that it wouldn't. I rolled over onto my other side, and inspected the framed photo that rested on my night stand. It was of Embry, Quil, Jake, and myself. I could only hope that none of those shifters were them.
"I have a feeling La Push is about to become a hotspot for trouble," I sighed.
1) Neenah (It's pronounced much like Nina -Knee Nah-)
2) The Winnebago tribe is based off of facts, they are located in Thrushton County in Nebraska, and the Shawee Legend is true although, I took out some parts because of length, and altered the ending. I female prophet was predicted, but she is to be killed instantely because she predicts the end of the world. For obvious reasons, my main character couldn't have that.
Disclaimer: I own none of the original Twilight Characters, they belong to Stephenie Meyer and Co.
All mentions of the Winnebago tribe is based on facts for the most part, but all mentions of them are not meant to insult, or insinuate anybody. I apologize if anybody is offended for the use, or if things stated in the writings do not match up with facts.
All names on Original Character are just that, they are not based on real people. I apologize if anybody is insulted by the use of these names.
Oh, and I'm a jerk and totally forgot to put this in earlier, although I really should have because otherwise I'm being a deuce, but credits to who helped come up with the bases of the storyline. We've been working together on the plot, but decided to take it different ways so this is my version, and she's doing her own (which is going to be totally awesome too!) so check it out for sure! Sorry I didn't put that on the first one!