Chapter9: Indian Burial Ground
In the caverns
"Leave me alone!" she cried, kicking a cloud of dust in their faceless hoods. Grace ran for the cave inside wondering if the shape shifters would try to follow her. Looking back, they threw their skeletal hands to their necks as if they were gasping for air while under water. Grace watched as they flew off into the distance like speeding bullets.
"Oh, now what's the matter…with them?" Her voice trailed off for a moment as she glanced around the cave and noticed a few painted images on the walls. She hardly knew anything about this place she had entered. There were paintings of buffalos, deer, coyotes, and stick people on horses chasing after a herd of steers like the ghosts that have passed by her outside the two plateaus. To her right, there were stick people banging on drums, buffalos being ridden by stick people carrying some kind of pointed object at a herd of deer. The image made Grace feel nervous; hopefully it didn't mean there were more of those dangerous meat eating hunters to be found somewhere inside of here.
"What is this place I have entered?" she whispered, keeping her voice as quiet enough to not utter a ruckus that might cause the cave obstacles to drop. The vapid drawings were not the only thing she found as her eyes locked onto the skulls of steers perched upon rocks that formed a circle around a flattened rock with a feathered headdress on top and a drum lying beside it. There were a few more flat rocks with unnatural names for human beings carved into them: Morning Star, Sly Fox, River Sky, White Snow, Little Bear, Running Water, Singing Bird, Playful One, Hawk Eye, Flying Eagle, Long Hair, Winter Breeze, Yellow Sun, Summer Wind, Falling Rain, Coyote Tail, and Chief Thunder Cloud which was carved under the feathered headdress.
"Hmm, someone sure has done a swell job with decorating here," Grace whispered in a low tone as she stepped into the circle to examine the rocks some more. "Why would there be rocks with names on them?" She thought foolishly that perhaps they were the name of the rocks. Then again, that would have to be the most ridiculous thing she could ever think of; names given to ordinary rocks? But who would want to place them here surrounded in an organized circle? The more Grace examined the area, the more she was unaware of what possible spiritual activity may be lurking in this dark cavern. Finding her way in the dark was no problem with the light crystal still around her neck. She did not know what else to make of this place; whether it was someone's hideout abandoned long ago leaving their belongings behind or another forbidden place which should remain undisturbed.
"Huh, what is this?" The young heifer's eyes caught something white with a black tip at the end. Picking it up with her tail, it looked to be the feather of a hawk or an eagle. Perhaps it might have flown in here and lost one of its feathers. Should she find the flying creature and return its feather or just simply leave it here?
"Whoever lost this feather must be looking for it. Maybe I should…" Grace began to have another thought of possibly running into a hawk or eagle asking her if she has seen a feather lying around. If they were to soar in here, there is a chance they may become lost in the darkness. She never thought about that happening before.
"I'll take this feather with me and return it to its rightful owner. I'm sure it's what the others would want me to do: wouldn't they?" she finished, placing the feather behind her right ear. It was time to step out of the circle and find another opening wherever that may be.
Grace should have known better; known better than to step foot in an unknown circle of named rocks which were really tombstones of Native Americans. Worse yet, she should have known better than to take something that didn't belong to her, lying on sacred ground. Because pretty soon, she would discover that the feather she picked up was really a piece from the headdress sitting on the tombstone of Chief Thunder Cloud. Grace was too busy singing one of her favorite folk songs in a silent tone that she was now unaware of a trail of mist blowing across from the tombstones to where she was heading.
This tunnel she was heading through seemed to be going onward and onward endlessly. But at least there were no giant webs to be found or having to smell the awful stench of decay in the air. It smelled rather clear like it would outside. That was a relief.
"Every tunnel I enter always seems to go on forever," Grace whispered in a worried voice. The walls had more painted images of buffalos, horses, and stick people making equipment with their own hands. "How strange, every wall is covered with paintings I've never seen before." Parts of the cavern walls were now decorated in moss and tree vines. But that wasn't the only thing that caught her eyes, Grace walked over to the left side of the walls to examine something she thought she saw hiding behind the moss. Pushing them out of the way with her front hooves, there was a painting of an animal (possibly a cow like her) standing in a familiar circle of decorated rocks? The next image showed the animal wearing a feather in its head stepping away from the rocks. Another image showed trails of smoke rising from the tombstone transforming into these strange men in weird clothing carrying weapons chasing after the animal. Grace gulped hoping that animal in the painting couldn't possibly be her; or could it? But there were more to be seen. The next image showed the stick people finally capturing the animal and carrying it like roasted chicken on a stick and placing it a few feet above a pile of firewood. The last image showed a stick person wearing this headdress covered in feathers all the way down to its feet, standing before the captive animal. Grace stood there staring at the paintings in puzzlement. Could they have been trying to tell her something about those carved rocks?
Suddenly a few strange cries broke the silence of the cavern as Grace turned to see a grey mist heading toward her. The frightened heifer made a run for it listening as the sounds grew closer and louder. Grace felt herself began to slow down when something sharp and pointed pricked into her neck from somewhere behind. Grace collapsed on the cold hard ground and thought she noticed a few strange red-skinned men with feathers in their heads, pointing sharp objects at her before she went limp and her vision had faded.