The last Ojibwa led Noah through the columns of oak. Shafts of moonlight gave the forest floor ghostly patches of bone white. Kebe stopped at a yawning blackness. He reached behind a fallen log and withdrew a heavy duty Maglite.
The light played across Noah’s face and Kebe’s sardonic voice was too loud in the hushed forest. “You were expecting a flaming torch?”
Kebe led Noah into the cave, down a winding corridor. Shadows leaped on the wet slick rock. There were scuttling noises. Then a flare of light, increasing in degrees of luminosity until stark white light bathed all surfaces. They were in a relatively large enclosure. An army cot at one end, and a small propane burner at the another. A bear hide floor.
“Sit.” Kebe gestured to the floor and went to the cot. He came back carrying gingerly a leather pouch. As he sat, he withdrew a metallic disc on a leather loop. “It has been in my tribe for generations. Maybe you can help me. I have been… away from the world.”
He gestured for Noah to put it on.