Bridging Worlds - Ch 12

Traditions versus Ambitions, forging unexpected connections, even in Raven’s later years.

Raven meets with the Sabákari Elders, Image imagined by Marylee using ChatGPT

For every woman who wonders if it’s too late to chase a dream or change direction, Raven’s journey will inspire you to take the first step.

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The late afternoon sun filtered through the expansive windows of Raven’s home office, casting golden streaks across the cabin’s log walls. She adjusted her headset and took a deep breath, steadying herself before the video call. This was the last client on her list to call about her new training center, aptly named, Tashkáni Ranch, Equestrian Training Center for Horse and Rider Harmony, and the upcoming demonstration for Sabáka’s centennial celebration. She hoped some clients would be curious about the ranch and reserve a training week. If they don’t need anything now, she asked them to send some referrals her way. Most of her clients were excited for her and wished her all the best. A few made an appointment to come to the ranch with their horse.

William McNab’s face filled the screen, his expression as sharp and guarded as ever. His weathered features were softened only slightly by the light streaks of silver in his hair.

“William,” Raven began, calm yet direct, “thank you for taking the time. How’s Star doing?”

“Hello, Raven.” His tone was neutral, neither warm nor cold. “She’s doing well. What can I do for you?”

Raven had anticipated this guarded response. Their history—years of professional respect peppered with occasional clashes over training methods—hung between them like an unspoken truth. She chose to step over it.

“I’m hosting a community event next month for the 100th anniversary of the city of Sabáka,” she explained. “It’s an event for the region and potential clients, with a chance for people to learn more about what we’re building here. I’d like you to come, with Star. I thought you could swing through on your way to the show in New Mexico. And stay here at the ranch as my guest, of course.”

William raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Why me?”

“Because you’ve created one of the best horse ranches in the region,” Raven replied, leaning forward slightly. “And despite our differences, I respect your work. I think the community would benefit from seeing us on the same side for once.”

He leaned back in his chair, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “A bold move, Raven. Extending an olive branch when most people would’ve doubled down.”

“I’m not most people.”

“No, you’re not.” He paused, his fingers tapping lightly on the desk. “I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I ask.”

The call ended, leaving Raven staring at her reflection in the now-blank screen. The tension in her shoulders eased, though a familiar weight remained. Building bridges wasn’t easy, but it was necessary—for her business, her community, and perhaps even herself.

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The scent of mesquite smoke greeted Raven as she entered the Sabákari village. The circular layout of the settlement, with its traditional adobe dwellings and central fire pit, felt timeless and grounding. Raven’s visits here constantly stirred something deep within her—a blend of pride and an unfulfilled sense of duty.

Elder Amáyani met her at the edge of the village, his lined face breaking into a warm smile. “Raven, it’s good to see you.”

“And you, Amáyani,” Raven replied, embracing the elder. “Where is Teyána?”

“She’s Tayóni. Her niece is having a baby, and she’s gone to help with the delivery. This will be the hundredth baby she’s born,” Amáyani finished. “I’m sitting with the elders until she gets back.”

As they walked toward the fire pit where several elders were gathered, Raven couldn’t help but notice the curious glances from the younger villagers. Her status as a shaman carried weight, but her modern lifestyle set her apart—a bridge between two worlds that often felt more like a chasm.

The elders invited her to sit, their conversation weaving between tradition and the future. They spoke of the importance of passing down their teachings and preserving their culture in an ever-changing world.

“You have a gift, Raven,” Amáyani said, his tone gentle but firm. “You’ve taken our teachings and found ways to share them beyond the village. But there is still much work to be done.”

Raven hesitated. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around more. I’ve been focused on my business and building something sustainable. Bringing these teachings into that world… sometimes feels like walking a tightrope.”

“Perhaps,” Amáyani said with a knowing smile, “but you’ve always had a knack for balance. And don’t spend time on regrets. It will hold you back from today's gift and tomorrow’s possibilities.”

Raven nodded as the embrace of Amáyani’s words warmed her. The conversation shifted and Raven was drawn to a young girl sitting apart from the others. She was brushing down a sleek black horse—Mystery, Raven realized with a start.

“That’s Shikáni,” Amáyani said, following Raven’s gaze. “She has a strong spirit, like her mother.”

Intrigued, Raven walked over to the girl, who straightened at her approach, her dark eyes filled with curiosity and defiance.

“You are Shikáni?” Raven asked, her voice warm, her presence calm but commanding.

“Yes, and you’re the one who sits on the hill,” Shikáni replied, her tone bold and unflinching for someone so young. “I saw you at your open house at the ranch.”

Raven smiled, folding her arms loosely. “I remember. You’ve done amazing work with him. He’s beautiful. What’s his name?”

Shikáni’s expression softened, and her hands stilled on the horse’s flank. “Téhsa. It means ‘mysterious soul.’ He’s more than just a horse. He’s a part of the stories.”

Raven crouched down, her gaze meeting Shikáni’s. “That’s a great name,” she said with quiet admiration. “I didn’t know his name when I saw you in the field, but I called him Mystery. It seems we were thinking the same thing.”

Shikáni’s eyes widened slightly, her stance softening.

“You’re right about him being part of the stories,” Raven continued, her voice steady. “His ancestry has been here for centuries, carrying the spirit of this land. And whether you realize it or not, you’re part of those stories too.”

The girl’s expression shifted, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through her tough exterior. “I don’t know if I want to be.”

Raven tilted her head. “Why not?”

“Because it feels… small. The village, the traditions. I love them, but I also want more.” Shikáni’s voice trembled slightly, the words spilling out like they had been held back for too long.

Raven placed a hand gently 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.”

For a moment, they were silent, the weight of the conversation drifting between them. Then Raven said, “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.”

Shikáni’s eyes widened. “You’d do that?”

“I would,” Raven said. “But you need permission.”

As the evening wore on, Raven became deep in conversation with the elders again. Shikáni lingered nearby, her presence a quiet reminder of the potential paths ahead.

When it was time to leave, Amáyani walked Raven to the edge of the village.

“You’ve always been a bridge, Raven,” the elder said. “Between our world and theirs. Between the past and the future. It’s not an easy role, but it’s necessary.”

Raven nodded, her thoughts already spinning with the challenges—and opportunities—ahead.

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The sun was setting by the time Raven returned to the ranch. As she entered the barn to check on the horses, her phone buzzed in her pocket.

It was a message from William McNab: I’ll be there. Let me know how I can help.

Relief washed over her, though it was short-lived. A faint rustling sound caught her attention, followed by a low, uneasy whinny from one of the stalls. “Spirit.”

Raven moved toward the source of the noise, her hand instinctively resting on the handle of the knife she carried at her belt.

In the barn’s dim light , she saw Spirit restless in his stall. She went to him, nuzzling his neck, breathing in the faint musk of sweat. His coat was so soft, like a mink, a smell familiar, and reassuring.

A moment passed, and then she heard Sam’s defining whistle—a song he always tuned. “Raven, are you okay?”

Relieved to see him, Raven smiled. “Hi, Sam. I’m glad it’s you. I heard Spirit nickering and restless in his stall. Did you see anything?”

“Yes. The dogs warned me. A bobcat was moving her cubs. I think they’re going to a new den. They’re on their way, and everyone is settling down.”

Raven’s conversation with Sam was interrupted by her phone. Thinking she should shut it down after hours, she saw a new email from the Mayor of Sabáka, marked with an urgent flag.

Rushing him off, “Thanks, Sam. It’s been a long day. See you in the morning? Why don’t you come up to the main house for breakfast?”

With a warm, lingering look, Sam thanked Raven, his voice softer than usual. “I’ll be up after I finish feeding the animals.”

Nodding, Raven returned to the house and sat in her favorite rocking chair on the porch. She opened her phone to read the mayor’s message.

Subject: 100th Anniversary Celebration

Raven,

We’re counting on you to be present for the opening demonstration at the celebration. We need to discuss the details as the situation has changed. More than ever, your participation is vital.

Raven stared at the screen, her stomach knotting.

She thought everything was all set. What’s changed now? Was there concern about her shamanic approach as a trainer, or was it something entirely different?

Her mind churned. What if I don’t meet their expectations? What if I’m not the right person for this?

She leaned back in her chair, exhaling slowly. I’ve been doing this work for decades. The thought brought some comfort. But another crept in right behind it: Yes, but it’s always been one-on-one—quiet, deliberate. Not standing in front of a crowd explaining my methods. And certainly not in public, no less.

Her doubts tugged at her, but so did a quieter, steadier voice. Breathing in Amáyani’s words, she thought: You’ve done more challenging things than this, Raven. You’ve bridged worlds before and know how to stand tall in both.

The two sides wrestled in her mind as the email sat there, demanding and unresolved.

She glanced out the window, where the canyon’s shadows stretched long and purple in the last light. The land always seemed to whisper to her, reminding her of the bigger picture—of all the stories she was part of.

Maybe this is just another chapter, she thought. Another call to action to see if I can bring these worlds together in a way that feels right. Isn’t that what life has been about all along?

Her lips curved into a faint smile, though her heart still felt heavy with uncertainty. The message felt like a challenge—a chance to step forward once more.

I don’t have all the answers yet, she admitted to herself. But I’ll take the first step.

I always do.

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