When Fern settled herself into the lodge she had no idea that her life was about to change forever. She slumped on the edge of the darkened Great Lodge, like the bag of old cedar cones she felt like, the sound of rain hammering on the roof. She sat near the outer flap trying to catch what light was available on this thick, fall misty day. Deep in thought, her bones aching, her mortar and pedestal were weighing heavily in her hand. She caught herself just before she dropped the bowl.  Wouldn’t want to lose the foxglove seeds she was grinding for old Oceans’ heart condition. Couldn’t find any near this village and she’d only brought enough for her patient with her to the Gathering. She ground on, her brows deeply furrowed, thinking about the missing trader’s party.

​

As she glanced absently around the lodge her eyes came to a sudden stop. Could it be? A soul she hadn’t seen at the Gathering in countless years. Crouching by the smoky light of an eulachon candle, his powerful shoulders hunched over his work, he wore a gnarly, fisherman’s hat covered in dried salt, oiled jacket set aside; yes; a fisherman. But those deep ocean blue eyes, glimmering in the smoky light could only belong to one fisherman. Yes, she thought, she would recognize that friendly face anywhere, older now, weathered by the ocean and deeply rutted with the pleasant lines of time. He was an Elder of his clan now, humming a tuneless melody, in deep concentration, one end of kelp held between his big white teeth, as he braided a rope of seaweed with expert hands; fingers so thick, it looked impossible that they could be carrying out such fine work. No, she was sure now. It was Bob

​

Bob of the Limpet Clan. Bob, who, in their youth, she couldn’t help but notice, when her father, Horsetail, was “shopping her around” for a husband. The memories washed over her. Even then, as she apprenticed with the old healer, Rosehip, she was known as an up and coming ‘natural’ when it came to the healing arts. Was she a worthless piece of baggage to be hauled around like a wet sack of kelp? She had hated the whole humiliating ordeal until she saw Bob.  A burly, muscular figure, even as a youth, with those eyes the colour of the Skeena on a sunny day that had fascinated her so, and that weathered, smiling face; he was a feast for the eyes. He had been weaving kelp then too, making nets for Ravens’ first cedar ship.  The look he gave her then was one part wink and two parts intrigue. She had felt her face hot and imagined how silly she must look in her blushing state.  But she was hooked. When she was able to sneak away from her father’s guest hut, she and Bob had sat together by the water, holding hands, two young seventeen year old's, telling each other tales of their clan’s doings, joking with each other about the silly porpoises in the harbour showing off for them. Bob made her laugh with a story about their new deckhand slipping off a rock at low tide in their last limpet scraping expedition.  They seemed to be two halves of the same cloth; happy, content; perfect for each other, she had thought.

​

He was Raven’s right hand man on Ravens ship, the Seabird which Raven had just inherited from his father Limpet.  And that had been the problem. Raven. It seemed that whenever there was trouble, Raven, ended up being at the bottom of it.  Even then, he was constantly pushing the boundaries of Clan Law. His beak-like nose and hair as black as obsidian at midnight had given him his name, but his overbearing attitude and cavalier actions over the years had earned him the malicious lines mapped into his dark face, making him look even more like his namesake, Raven, the trickster. It was true he was known to have a formidable temper. He had capped off his image by taming a raven a while back.  Usually an enemy of the small people, all he had to do was whistle to have him come alight beside him. He had fashioned a small harness that allowed him to safely ride his raven whom he called Blacky, when they or he wanted ‘eyes in the sky’ 

Her father had found her and Bob together one evening sitting side by side in their innocence and youth on the beach and he had yanked her away, muttering about trouble following Raven, and keeping away from his pack of cronies. But how could her father, Fern had thought, tar Bob with the same brush, with that caring young face and open, wholesome soul? Just because he worked for Raven didn’t mean he was in on his schemes.  Bob had been somewhat gullible back then she could now admit.  Kindly and patiently her father had explained to her, that, no, Bob was not a bad man.  It was his proximity to Raven that ended him up in hot water from time to time and she was a vulnerable young woman.  They didn’t need that kind of trouble in the Cedar Clan. Let the Limpets deal with Raven.

In the end, Horsetail had married her off to Teddy, nine years her senior.  Teddy had seemed ancient to her back then, but things had worked out as they learned to love one other. Teddy with a heart as big as the sky had turned out to be a caring husband and father. She was busy with her healer training, and young lively family. Teddy had his duties as an Elder and his cedar branch logging company, chasing after the salvage he could find from wind fallen cedars, or from branches trimmed by the Wise Ones when they moved a whole log with their magic.  He had been an ample provider for their growing family, although she always thought he worked too hard. They had shared a happy life together, all in all, with four children and thirteen grandchildren in their flourishing family. In the end it had been that big heart of his that had suddenly taken him and she had been widowed these past two years.

Just then, Bob looked up, tried to clear his eyes of smoke, caught her staring into space and opened his mouth in shock, dropping the end of the strand of kelp he held between his teeth. “Fern, is that you?” he said, in a deep gravelly voice. 

Her face melted into a warm smile as she answered “Yes, Bob. Good to see you after all these years.  Still at sea. I gather” her head nodding towards the kelp rope on his lap.

“Yup” he said. “Married to it, it seems. Can’t seem to break away. I don’t often make it to the Gathering, unless it’s held here.  And you?  I hear you’re quite the healer these days. And an Elder at that! Some of my shipmates talk endlessly about the salves you give Sol for their hands.”  His hands had unconsciously picked up his rope and he continued his weave

“Oh, they’re easy.  Sol Seal is learning quickly. Had to pick it up quickly after your old healer passed away. Mind like a sponge. He’ll be able to make them himself by the end of the Gathering. Crewing is tough work and a ship’s ropes are rough on the hands, especially when the calluses haven’t built up yet. So, you an Elder as well and you’ve never married?” she queried, not able to hide the wonder in her voice.  She had always imagined he had married within the Limpet Clan, and was a comfortable, plump grandfather by now.

“Nope.  ‘No life for a wife’, they always say. Always away. And the danger isn’t healthy for a family life” It was true that a small Bog folk captains’ cedar ship, tossing in the harbour, could be upended at any moment by a rogue wave, a large fish, or worse yet, a porpoise or seal.  People of the Bog Clans stayed within the harbour or near the islands.  They floated easily with their ample fat and round figures and most could swim, but they were also easy pickings for a raven, eagle or gull, if they didn’t quickly hide themselves in a kelp bed, and kick their way to shore.  “But I hear you’ve quite a brood” he said with the comfortable feeling of old friends catching up on each other’s’ lives. The passing years seemed gone in a heartbeat.

“Yes” Fern answered, her smile bittersweet.  “I lost Teddy two years ago, but the children have grown.”  Her home was usually crawling with grandchildren. She was thinking of their busy lodge back in the cedar forest. “Still with Raven?” she asked.

“Yes. Couldn’t do without me, he says.” His chest puffed out. “We even have a young lass on our crew now. Euilie, her name is. As strong as any man. She pulls her weight. Just has to learn the ropes, so to speak. One of Ravens grandchildren.”

“Really! Raven allowed a woman on board?” unintentionally showing her distaste for his master. “Seems he managed a family” Fern blurted out, before she realized how it sounded, the emphasis being on the ‘he’. Mind you, Raven’s wife Phlox, was not a happy woman.  Browbeaten by her overbearing husband, she was as quiet as a mouse, kept her head down and never dared to venture an opinion of her own. Fern had sent many an ointment, compress and salve to heal the many ‘accidents’ Phlox seemed victim to. She’d have to drop by and see Phlox over the next couple of days and speak to Sol Seal about the situation so he could take over her care. Raven and Phlox had a large family now, and she hoped that that gave Phlox some measure of comfort.  She hoped Raven didn’t treat Eulie like he had Phlox.

“Yup,” Bob admitted, looking down at his ropes.  “Master of the ship needs a family. It’s just how it is.” Truth was, after Bob had met Fern, he hadn’t met another girl who’d measured up to her.  After a while, the bachelor life became a habit and he stopped looking around for a wife.  Seeing her now, brought back the painful memories of his rejection by Ferns father.  He had never understood why.

Fern thought she’d take this opportunity to fish around for anything Bob may have heard regarding Ravens whereabouts.  She would rather visit Phlox when he wasn’t home.  “Has Raven been buying up supplies for your next trip out, while you’re at the Gathering?  Keeping himself busy?” she asked.

“Well, some.” Bob said. ”He’s waitin’ on those traders who were supposed to be here.  They should have some tools for us.  But we’ve already picked up an extra cedar tarp, some new hooks, a gaff or two, more limpet scrapers. Who knows what else he’ll come up with? He’s staying in camp here most nights until the traders get here.”

“Hmmm..” Fern replied. She was lost in thought for a moment. “The trading party is overdue. Two of them are old hands at the trading game too and all three are sea folk. We’ll have to bring that up with at Council.  See if anyone’s got word of their whereabouts”

“Yup” answered Bob. “There’ve been a few mean storms lately.”  His lifted his eyes from his work.  “What are you grindin’ up there girl?” Bob asked inquisitively, his eyes squinting, trying to adjust to the semi-darkness.

“Oh, just some Foxglove seeds. Have to be careful with them. The wrong amount and it will kill a soul; but Ocean; you know; the Elder of the Skeena Clan, needs it to slow down his heart. Can’t get the seeds around here so I don’t want to spill any” She said as she poured the finely ground mixture into one of her wooden vials with a V-shaped tool.

“How can you tell what’s in each vial” Bob enquired inquisitively. “They all look the same to me”.

 “I mark the cork, and the vial so I know which one is which.  Two notched for foxglove.” Fern was busy making the notches as she spoke.  Then she added the vial to her leather hip pouch alongside of what looked like identical wooden vials, drew the string tightly and toggled it with a broken shell.  “All done”

“If you like, I’d be happy to help out at the healing hut if you could use an extra set of hands.  Don’t know much about medicine but I can help move around patients and the like.” Probed Bob, shyly

Fern smiled” Love to have your help! Can always use a strong back. I’m way past lifting patients!”

​

“Great” Bob brightened with enthusiasm. “I’ll report for duty tomorrow morning!”

​

Just then, they noticed a hurried movement in the deep shadows of the hut as a short hooded figure slid through the outer flaps of the hut and into the mist without a word. “Hmm..” Bob mused.  “I wonder who that was.”