Chapter One: A Conversation with Agnes
This is a story about a mountain. It was a lonely mountain that stood out on the horizon. In winter, it was capped with snow. In summer, it the granite face of the mountain blended into the deep and hazy sky.
It was not a particularly exciting mountain to climb, but it was a good one to stand on the summit and watch the world go by. The mountain was called Mt. Hiawatha and its owner, Mr. Hiawatha, liked the sound of his own name.
He lived on the top of this mountain in an enormous house with a glass roof and many windows. In winter, there were always people visiting him, telling stories or asking him about Native American history. His guests were fascinated by his knowledge of the past, even though Mr. Hiawatha rarely shared it with them.
One day, as Mr. Hiawatha stood on his mountain watching the sun set over the valley below, he felt a strange and eerie feeling come over him. He began to have second thoughts about his life and about the path that he had been leading. He began to think about how he had never really explored this beautiful world around him. He had spent too much time inside his house reading about his ancestors. There was something more important out there than his history lessons. It was a chance for him to go out into nature and see what was out there.
This is also a story about a young goat. The goat belonged to Mr. Hiawatha and was named Agnes. But Agnes was a special goat. A goat with great and mysterious power.
She could speak. Her words were filled with wisdom. And she had the ability to see far into the future. Mr. Hiawatha was very interested in the goats of his village. He wanted to know about their history, how they had become such powerful animals, and how they were able to live in the wild. So, one day he decided to find out more about them. He called for Agnes, who had been waiting patiently in her pen for him to return. As Mr. Hiawatha approached the pen, he found that Agnes’s coat was wet and she had mud on her hooves. The goat was dirty and looked tired.
“Agnes,” said Mr. Hiawatha, “what have you been doing?”
“I went for a walk through the woods,” said Agnes.
“A walk through the woods? Where did you go?” asked Mr. Hiawatha.
“I went down to the lake, where I saw a young boy fishing,” said Agnes.
Mr. Hiawatha was excited by this news. “Goat,” he said, “you have been to the lake. Tell me everything you saw.”
“First, I talked to the boy about his fishing pole,” said Agnes.
Mr. Hiawatha had seen this boy before. The fishing pole he used was simple enough — carved from the branch of an old maple tree that had once stood near the base of Mt. Hiawatha, but had fallen to the ground in a particularly harsh winter storm. The pole was generally unremarkable, except for some runes that had been carved into its grip.
“Did you see anything else?” asked Mr. Hiawatha.
“The boy told me about his family and what happened to him in the past,” said Agnes.
Mr. Hiawatha wanted to know more about this boy and his family. “Tell me about the boy,” he said.
“He is called Joseph, and he lives with his mother and father, his two brothers, and his uncle. His family is very close,” said Agnes.
Mr. Hiawatha nodded. “Yes, I have heard of this family,” he said. “But tell me more about them.”
“His father’s name is Henry,” said Agnes.
“I’ve heard of him,” said Mr. Hiawatha. “Is he a good man?”
“I think he is, but I’m not sure,” said Agnes.
“What do you mean?” asked Mr. Hiawatha.
“Henry is sometimes very harsh with his sons. They complain that he beats them and forces them to work all the time,” said Agnes.
“Why would he do that?” asked Mr. Hiawatha.
“Because his father was the village healer,” said Agnes.
Mr. Hiawatha nodded again. He was going to have to speak with the village healer.