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“Daddy, I’m scared,” said Marybeth as she clung onto me. Thunder rolled as if in answer to my daughter's statement.

We were surrounded by the little people, who all had bows or spears. I had my Colt on my hip. I was fast enough, but I hoped I wasn't here for a fight. These little people looked akin to the natives who had told me about them. Dark-skinned, wide noses on flat faces, each stood the height of a child, and except for their tall, pointed ears like those of foxes, they looked like tiny men. Some had more outlandish features, like overlarge noses or long faces, but it’s the same with any crowd of people.

I took a step forward, shielding my daughter with my body from the drawn bow in front of me.

"My name is Jim," I said, not giving my family name. "And this is my daughter, Marybeth. We are here to buy passage."

The small men regarded me in silence, each one looking at me with large, hard eyes, their tall tufted ears and long hair giving them a wild appearance. I held the gaze of the one in front of me until I began to believe they wouldn't speak. Almost as if in response to my inner doubt, the one I held eyes with spoke. His clear, pronounced English surprised me, an accent I had never heard before coloring his words.

"Buy passage. To what place? For what reason?"

The old woman's warning rang in my ears as I considered my question. “When speak you with Pukwudgie, use great care with words. Speak no more than needed.”

"I seek passage to the Far Earth. For safety for my daughter; her mother had the gift."

The little person in front of me lowered his tall ears. The gesture reminded me of an old coonhound I used to own. He tilted his head to the side and asked, "Where is the girl's mother?"

"Burned by the marshals," I said, every word an effort.

The tufted ears went up and then back down at this statement, a nod of acknowledgment. He pointed behind me at Marybeth with his chin.

"She has the gift?"

"Unknown," I lied, "but likely. The lawmen won’t wait to find out."

The ear tufts went up and then back down again.

"Have you the passage price?"

I'd been told what to bring. It had been a hard find, but I'd had the right motivation.

I tugged on the reins that I held, nickering softly to reassure the mule on whose back now rested all of my earthly possessions, half of which I was about to give away to pay for passage.

My wife had never had the gift. It had always been Marybeth. And when the manifestation had caused trouble, she had stepped up and claimed Marybeth’s responsibility boldly in front of the men with rifles.

If I had known what she had stepped out to do, I would have stopped her. I wished that I had thought of it before she did, but no man had ever been found to possess the gift, and so I doubted I would have been believed even had it occurred to me to attempt to make such a sacrifice.

The mule stepped up beside me. The gulf of my regret and the past threatened to swallow me, but I swallowed it, reaching over and rummaging through the saddlebags until I found the leather satchel. I pulled out the offering and proffered it.

The small man in front of me sniffed at the air like a curious dog, his eyes sparkling with interest, his tufted ears perking up. He said something in their language, and the tension in the circle eased palpably. The drawn bows relaxed and lowered.

I expected him to take the package from me, but instead, he turned to his left and to his right and spoke to the crowd of little men who had somehow doubled in the last moment without making a sound. That I hadn't seen or heard their approach irritated me. I considered myself an expert woodsman, but these small people were putting my woodcraft to shame. The one I had been speaking with, the leader of the group, only looked at the satchel I still held out. Thunder rolled again overhead, and a single fat drop of rain fell right onto the satchel that I held out, making a loud smack. The small man's ears went back with the sound. Then he looked from it to me, something like suspicion darkening his features.

"It's just rain," I said, trying to once again give him the satchel. It contained the most expensive whiskey and tobacco I'd ever heard of, needing to have been made with exacting care that none but the rarest of suppliers could meet.

His dark eyes searched mine for a long minute. Then he seemed to make up his mind and nodded, stepping back and gesturing for me to follow. Still holding the satchel, I decided none were going to take it from me and restored it to my saddlebags. I lifted Marybeth and set her upon The Beast, for that's what I had named my mule, and set out after the retreating form of this Pukwudgie chieftain.

The rain began to fall in earnest, and I helped Marybeth into her oilcloth as we continued to trudge after the line of small men. With quick and agile movements, they all unstrung their bows and stowed the strings in oilcloth pouches, giving no sign the rain bothered them in the least.

We walked for hours, the storm and the darkness coming to encompass us completely. The little men ignited strange light sources. I couldn't see how they worked or by what means they lit them. The lights seemed like things alive, dancing almost playfully about the path and the small men's feet. None of the lights got close enough for me to get a proper look at it.

Eventually, Marybeth fell asleep, and I walked beside the mule to steady her sleeping form in the saddle. We trudged on. The rain stopped at some point, and I fell into a hypnotic rhythm, trudging ever onward, losing track of time. The night passed like a dream, my weariness smudging the edges of reality, causing everything to blur slightly. About the time I reckoned dawn should be breaking, the little people called a halt.

In the darkness and the storm, I had lost track of our surroundings. The men gathered up for camp, lighting a fire, and it illuminated our surroundings. We stood inside a cave, a vast cavern. Somehow, we had walked from the forest into this underground place, though I could not recall the point when we had passed from one to the other.

I looked around in wonder, as the rock seemed to be made of night sky and stars, and it sparkled and twinkled with its own inner light as it caught and reflected the firelight.

I lifted Marybeth's sleeping form down from the mule, laying out a blanket and setting her on it. I once again retrieved the leather satchel and set it down near the fire, careful to let the chief see me do it.

He did, and barked orders to some of his people, who went and retrieved the satchel, and to my relief, opened it, and began to distribute the contents. When a portion was brought to the chief, he uncorked a small bottle of whiskey and held it under his nose, drawing in a deep breath with his eyes closed.

I had no palate for whiskey myself, so whatever he was appreciating was beyond me. He smiled, appearing lost in a pleasant memory. Then his eyes flew wide, and his smile deepened into a frown. He dropped the tobacco he'd been holding on the cave floor and eyed the whiskey, looking up at me sharply. Then he turned and issued a command to the group of Pukwudgie, who all held their tobacco and whiskey, eagerly watching the chief, clearly waiting for him to partake first, except for one in the back who had already tipped back his bottle of whiskey and was taking a long drink. He stood in the shadows beyond the firelight.

The chief again spoke sharply, throwing his own bottle of whiskey into the fire and advancing on the Pukwudgie who was bringing the bottle down from his lips, a guilty expression on his face. The group of little men all looked around at each other and at the one who had broken protocol. He stepped forward into the firelight meekly, offering his tobacco and whiskey to the chieftain. But before he got there, his eyes bugged wide, and he dropped his prizes onto the floor, his hands going up to his throat. He started to make gasping, choking noises. Then he fell to his knees and pitched forward, white foam bubbling from his lips. Stunned silence reigned in the cavern, the fire making the only sound.

The chieftain spoke. In a flash, all the little men had dropped their prizes and drawn spears or bows and had them pointed at me. The chief's next words were slow, calm, and menacing.

"Treachery," he said. "You bring us gifts poisoned with iron and crystal."

At once, I knew I'd been deceived. The old woman's instructions had been specifically to make sure that the whiskey had been brewed in black iron, and that after the aging process, it was decanted in crystal.

“A life has been taken,” the chieftain spoke. “Now a life is owed. And the price for passage is still not paid.”

Thinking fast, praying this would work, whispering an apology, I pulled The Beast around in front of me and offered him up. "A life," I said.

The chief stared at me for a long moment, his eyes hard and calculating. My hand strayed toward my Colt, as I mentally rehearsed which of them to take first if this went south.

The chief’s ears went down and then back up. I started breathing again. “Now for the matter of passage price.”

I thought fast, going through everything in The Beast’s saddlebags. I scarcely had anything of value left, with the exception of my Colt, which I had no intention of giving up. I suspected this whole thing would play out differently without it on my hip.

The chief spoke before I could come up with a good idea. “We are already on the path. Already we have paid for you to walk the Star Way.” He looked at me with an expression I couldn’t read. “I take partial responsibility for this.” His words shocked me. “The Great Spirit warned me this gift was tainted with the first drop of rain, but I dismissed the warning as coincidence.” He turned and addressed the other little people. “Learn from my mistake. Heed the natural signs. See how the child sleeps? The Great Spirit speaks even now, counseling peace, though my heart beats for blood.” The other little people in the cavern stirred and muttered to each other. “You carry only two things now I will accept as passage price. Your life or the life of your daughter.”

His words chilled me. I could pay neither price. If I chose me, I’d kill Marybeth as surely as letting these strange men do it. Without me to care for her, she’d have no way to make her way in the world. She was only seven.

“Chief,” I said, putting respect in my voice as I prepared to draw down. “I’m sorry for how this played out. I was tricked by an old woman with a grudge. When she told me how to prepare the gift, she said it must be brewed in black iron and decanted in crystal. I can see how deadly it is to your kind. I wish her hate wasn’t meant for you, but it was.”

I steeled myself to try and shoot my way out when the chief spoke. “If you pay with your life, we will only take ten years.”

This stopped me. “How’s that?”

“You will live for ten fewer of your years than you would have.”

“Done,” I said before I could think on it. This seemed far better than trying to shoot it out. After all, who cared if I would only live to sixty, rather than seventy. All of my important years were right in front of me, sleeping peacefully on the cavern floor.

“Give me an hour to prepare, then we will preform a ritual.”

I nodded to him, sitting down beside my little girl. The violent tension eased out of the air, and the little people all became a flurry of activity as the chief shouted orders. My blood cooled, and with the heat went the last of my reserves and I slept.

◆

When I woke, the Pukwudgie were ready for me, and had me sit in a salt circle with The Beast and the dead man. I sat and the chief began to chant. The world beyond the salt began to swirl with strange colors and shapes. The Beast laid down and stopped breathing. The dead man stood up out of his body and walked over to me, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“Excuse me,” he said, his word coming from far off. “I’ll take my ten years now.”

He stepped inside me, even as I screamed, “Noooo!”

◆

I was a passenger.

I watched the Pukwudgie raise Marybeth. They taught her the ways of the little people. Woodcraft, The Great Spirit, respect for the land and nature. She became part of their tribe, undergoing the rite of passage to womanhood when her time came.

She fell in love with a young warrior and I watched as “I” gave them my blessing. She underwent a ritual to become Pukwudgie herself and they were married. I witnessed the birth of her firstborn as “I” spoke the traditional blessing.

Then as my ten years sentence drew to a close, “I” went on a Spirit Journey, taking my end of life walk. The way to the Pukwudgie village closed behind me as I went and I knew I’d never be able to return.

The time ended and the Pukwudgie stepped out of my body.

“Thank you,” he said, “for returning the life you took.”

I considered him for a long time, a flood of emotions warring inside me. Eventually, I made up my mind.

“Take me back,” I said.

“If I step back into you, it will be forever. I cannot leave again. Go, you are free.”

“Without Marybeth, my life is meaningless. Step back in me and go be a good dad to that girl and a good grandfather to that baby.”

Emotion welled in the little man’s face and he held a hand to his heart. “I swear to you, it will be done.”

I watched as we returned home.