Chapter 2
Mingo hummed a Celtic tune as he struck his flint and steel into the waiting tinder. He began to sing softly as Israel spitted the fish onto the roasting sticks Mingo had cut. Israel listened to the words, his active mind embellishing the story and creating questions.
"Mingo……."
"Yes son?"
"That song you're singin'. What's it called? I never heard it before."
" 'The Great Silkie o' Suleskerry'. It is an old Scots song I learned years ago from a classmate at Oxford."
"Why are ya singin' it now?"
"Oh, I don't really know. I was just thinking about it. The moon on the water maybe."
"Sing it agin Mingo. Louder so I can hear it good."
Mingo's teeth showed white in the growing twilight as he smiled broadly. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea. According to people in the Orkneys, silkies are attracted to singing. It was said that a silkie could be lured onto the land by singing and then captured."
"Can people really do that? What the song says. Turn into animals?" Israel's light eyes sparkled in the moonlight.
"It's just a song, Israel." Mingo's eyes began to twinkle in return. "Though I have heard that the Celts believed such things happened."
"What's a silkie?"
"A being that can assume the shape of an animal, and then become human. It's a kind of enchantment. 'When angels fell, some fell on the land, some on the sea. Those on the land are fairies, on the sea they're silkie'. "
Mingo watched the expression on the little boy's face as the information was assimilated. "What kind o' animals? Like raccoons?"
Mingo laughed softly. "Well, the people of the Orkneys and Shetlands believe it is seals. So do the Irish and the people of Norway. Highland Scots believe them to be horses. I understand being near a flowing stream gives one a good chance of seeing a silkie. If they want you to see them. But be careful! I've heard that they lure children close, take them under the water, and the children are never seen again. "
"I know what a horse is, but what's a seal?"
"A sea mammal."
"See what animal?" Israel quickly turned his head to look into the darkening forest.
Mingo grinned. "No son, an ocean creature. You've never seen one."
"Have you?"
"Yes. They are common near the upper British Isles. And they do resemble people. They have long bodies and in the water they look something like a person swimming."
Again Israel sat silently, his active mind creating seals. The evening stars began to brighten in the darkening sky. The creek bubbled between its banks and the fire crackled.
"Mingo? If you see one o' them silkie things, you wake me. Will ya?"
"Yes, Israel, I will. I think you'd better raise your fish a bit. It's getting a little black on this side."
Israel raised his stick and continued to gaze into the fire. The cool March air made the fire most welcome. The little boy pulled his coat tightly around himself. The night was silent, the season being too early for insects and the birds already abed. Deep in the forest a wolf pack began to howl as the bright full moon rose. Israel glanced up at the silvery orb.
"Look Mingo, the moon's silver tonight. Do you think that'll make them silkie things come out?"
"Israel, that is just a tale. Don't stay awake looking for them. Hear me?"
Israel nodded, but Mingo could see the little boy's bright eyes and knew that his words had been in vain. He began to regret his lighthearted reference for two reasons. Israel would probably remain awake most of the night, and his Cherokee heritage had wakened a spirit of wariness in his heart. It was never wise to casually mention the Little People, of any race. Or any of their enchanted brethren either.
Thinking to make Israel less eager to see something supernatural, Mingo cleared his throat and spoke. "You know, Israel, if you speak too often about the Little People they become angry and work mischief. You don't want something to happen to your fish do you?"
"Like what?"
"Well, I have heard that angry Little People do things like throw ashes in your food."
Israel looked into Mingo's face, trying to decide if his friend was serious. As the two looked at each other across the fire a vein of pine resin popped and threw a shower of sparks and ashes all over Israel's fish. Mingo's eyebrows rose into his fringe and Israel dropped his roasting stick in surprise.
"Israel, get your stick!"
The little boy grabbed his stick and blew on his roasting trout. "It's alright, Mingo. It just got a little…..ash…..on ….it!" Israel's bright blue eyes grew as large as pennies. Mingo placed a long finger against his lips to warn Israel to stop. But the little boy's excitement was growing as his fertile mind took hold of the seed.
"Mingo! Ma's told me about leper….lepre…."
"Leprechauns?" Mingo instantly regretted his identification.
"Yeah! There're here, Mingo. There're out here with us. Ma's Irish ya know, and she told me they like bein' in the woods. She said they come out when the moon is bright and dance. She said they got a pot o' gold at the end of the rainbow. But she made me promise not to go look without tellin' her, since I got lost last winter lookin' for the ice fairies."
"Very wise." Mingo clearly remembered rescuing the little boy as he sat perched on a ledge above a steep rocky hill. "Israel, don't believe everything that you hear. No matter how much fun it may seem, tales are just that. They are tales."
"No sir, Mingo." Israel shook his little blonde head. "Ma said the tales are TRUE. She said the best time to see things are when the moon's full, like it is tonight. I bet we see somethin' tonight, Mingo. I betcha!"
Mingo sincerely hoped that Israel was incorrect. He cautiously peeked behind his shoulder into the silvery moonlight. The dark shadowy forest loomed fifty yards away. Silver Moon Glen glowed with the bright moonlight. The Cherokee felt the passage of ethereal wings against his cheek. Aggravated with his superstitious mind, Mingo shook his head and scooted closer to the fire's warmth as he fastened his coat around his tall lean body. Israel munched his roasted trout and looked expectantly with sparkling eyes into the same dark forest.