A Wild Heart’s Calling - An Interlude
Shikáni Steps Toward Her Future
Words are a soft place to land when life shifts, dreams return, or you simply need a little light.
“Is that girl off in the fields again with those horses?”
“Daughter, do you even need to ask? Remember how we found her there days after she started walking? What do you need? I can help you.”
Shikáni’s mother, Teyána, knew she shouldn’t be impatient with her daughter. Now a teenager, Shikáni was testing herself, pushing her limits, and finding her path.
Navári, as the First Keeper—the leader of their people—embodied the deep ancestral knowledge of the Sabákari, preserving traditions, stories, and their spiritual connection to the land. Through oral traditions, symbols, and rituals, she taught Shikáni the true meaning of heritage and responsibility.
When the First Keeper knew it was time to pass on her role, it was done with grace and celebration, not through sickness or death. From a young age, the next leader was prepared to recognize when the moment was right.
As Teyána prepared to step into leadership, Navári looked forward to guiding her—not just as a mentor but as a challenger—ensuring her daughter was truly ready.
While others expected Shikáni to follow a more traditional path, Navári saw beyond expectations. She understood that the horses were woven into her granddaughter’s soul, just as their lineage had been passed from mother to daughter since the Sabákari’s beginning.
A sudden flurry of motion interrupted the quiet rhythm of the village. Shikáni galloped in, bareback on Téhsa, her stallion. She leaped from his back before he even came to a full stop, sending a cloud of dust into the air.
Navári, unfazed by the dramatic arrival, stepped forward. “I know I’ve told you the land speaks to you through their hooves, child. But must you make them announce your coming with such bluster?”
Shikáni threw her arms around her grandmother, unable to contain her excitement. “I’m sorry, Grandmother, but we have a new foal, and she’s beautiful!”
Navári’s eyes softened with amusement. “I assume mother and baby are both well?”
“Oh yes! And she’s red—like a roan. I thought Téhsa would be her sire, but I’ve never seen that color in his bloodline.”
“You never know. Sometimes a hidden trait emerges after generations. Where else would the mare have found a mate?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen any other stallions in the valley,” Shikáni admitted, her brow furrowing. “But, Grandmother, you have to come see her. She’s so beautiful.” She reached for Navári’s arm, gently tugging in an attempt to persuade her.
“Tomorrow, child,” Navári said with a knowing smile. “Your mother needs my help preparing for the last birth.”
Shikáni’s excitement tempered slightly. “Has Kawáki’s waters spilled?”
“Not yet, but they will soon.”
Shikáni hesitated. “When Mother takes over your role as First Keeper… will I have to become a midwife?”
“Use the old words, Shikáni. That is the only way they will be remembered,” Navári gently corrected. “And no, your mother may choose another woman from our people to serve as Tayóni.”
As the dust settled, Navári motioned for Shikáni to sit beside her. “Before you rush off into tomorrow, listen to a story. There was once another Sabákari woman who loved horses as you do. Her name was Téhkiri.”
Shikáni leaned forward, eager.
“Téhkiri was not expected to be a horsewoman. Her mother was a healer, and her father was a trader. But from the time she could walk, she had a gift—a way of understanding horses that no one could explain. It was as if she could hear what they needed before they even moved.”
Navári’s voice took on the slow, measured rhythm of a storyteller. “The elders told her to set aside childish dreams, that a woman’s place was elsewhere. But the land spoke differently. One day, a wild horse came into the valley, wounded and afraid. No one could approach it—no one except Téhkiri.”
Shikáni’s eyes gleamed. “What happened?”
“She nursed him back to health and earned his trust. And in return, he led her to something greater. With him, she traveled beyond the valley, learning from others, sharing what she knew, and bringing back knowledge that strengthened her people.”
Shikáni’s expression turned thoughtful.
Navári placed a hand over her granddaughter’s. “Dreams that call to your soul are not meant to be ignored. The challenge is finding a way to weave them into who you are, rather than running from where you come from.”
Before Shikáni could respond, the sound of hooves echoed from the ridge. She turned just in time to see Raven approaching, her horse moving at an easy pace.
Shikáni straightened. “Raven!”
The older woman dismounted with a practiced ease, nodding first to Navári, then to Teyána. “It’s good to see you both.”
Navári’s smile was knowing. “You’ve come for her.”
Shikáni’s breath caught.
“If she’s ready,” Raven said.
Teyána exchanged a glance with her mother, then turned to Shikáni. “This is what was promised, child. The choice is yours.”
Shikáni looked between them all, her heart pounding.
Raven met her gaze. “If you ever want to learn more—about the world beyond the village, about yourself, about how you work with horses—you’re welcome at my ranch. I can mentor you, and you can still hold onto everything that makes you you.”
The girl’s expression shifted, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through her usual confidence.
“It feels… small,” Shikáni admitted. “The village, the traditions. I love them, but I also want more.” Her voice trembled slightly, the words spilling out as if they had been held back for too long.
Raven placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Wanting more doesn’t mean turning your back on where you come from. By no means is this village’s story small. Yes, it’s small in size, but not in history.
“You’re honoring it by growing. My story is not so different.”
Shikáni took a deep breath, then squared her shoulders and grabbed her satchel. “Then I’m coming with you.”
Navári nodded, a glimmer of approval in her eyes. “Go, child. Learn. And when you return, bring something back to make us all stronger.”
As Shikáni mounted Téhsa, Raven smiled. “Let’s ride.”
I’m Marylee, and I write fiction and nonfiction for women who are ready to rewrite their story—or just need to feel seen. My words are a soft place to land when life shifts, dreams return, or you simply need a little light.
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