The morning sun cast long shadows across the sacred lake as Chief Ouray knelt by the water's edge, his hands pressed flat against the smooth stones that had been worn by countless generations of his people. The familiar ritual of dawn prayer should have brought him peace, but today his spirit felt restless, pulled toward something he couldn't name.
For weeks now, the dreams of the woman called Maya had been growing more intense, more real. Each night when he closed his eyes, he found himself drawn into visions so vivid they felt like memories of experiences he'd never had. But it was more than dreams now—during his waking hours, he found himself sensing things that shouldn't be possible, feeling presences that existed beyond the boundaries of his visible world.
"Ouray." Ha-vi's voice carried across the meadow, interrupting his meditation. "The council elders are asking for you. There are matters that require your attention."
Ouray turned to see his closest friend approaching with the measured steps of someone who had learned to recognize when their chief needed space to think. Ha-vi's expression held the patient concern that had characterized their friendship since boyhood, but there was something else there too—a growing worry about Ouray's increasing preoccupation with spiritual matters.
"What matters?" Ouray asked, though part of his mind remained focused on the strange pulling sensation he'd been feeling all morning, as if something important was happening somewhere beyond his reach.
"Trade negotiations with the mountain bands. Reports from our scouts about white soldiers moving closer to our territory. The usual concerns that require a chief's wisdom." Ha-vi settled beside him on the stones, studying Ouray's face with the directness that came from decades of friendship. "But I suspect your thoughts are elsewhere today."
Before Ouray could respond, he felt it—a jolt of energy so intense it made him gasp. For just a moment, he saw flashes of images that made no sense: a woman with Maya's face but wearing strange clothing, sitting in a dwelling unlike any he'd ever seen, holding something in her hands that pulsed with familiar energy.
"What is it?" Ha-vi's voice seemed to come from far away as Ouray gripped the stones beside the lake, his vision swimming with impossible scenes.
The images came faster now—Maya in a moving lodge that traveled without horses, Maya speaking with people whose faces he didn't recognize, Maya touching something small and carved that sent recognition shooting through his spirit like lightning. The carved bear. The spirit guide he had blessed during his recovery, the one that belonged to the mountain elder who had cared for him, the one he had infused with his bear spirit's energy during the healing ceremonies.
Ouray's spirit guide had always been the bear—the powerful protector who walked between the physical and spiritual worlds. When he blessed objects for his people, he called upon his bear spirit to inhabit them, to watch over and guide those who carried them. That's how he knew, with absolute certainty, that Maya had touched something of his. His bear spirit had felt her presence across the impossible distance of time and immediately shared that awareness with him.
"She touched it," Ouray whispered, his voice filled with wonder and confusion. "She touched the spirit guide I blessed, and I can see... I can see where she is, when she is."
Ha-vi's expression grew more concerned. "Ouray, you're speaking in riddles. Who touched what?"
But Ouray was barely aware of his friend's presence. The visions continued to flood through him—glimpses of a world so different from his own that it challenged everything he thought he knew about the nature of existence. Tall lodges that reached toward the sky like man-made mountains, paths of stone that stretched beyond the horizon, and everywhere, signs of a civilization unlike anything in his experience.
And through it all, Maya. Not as she appeared in his dreams, dressed in the traditional clothing of his people and moving through familiar landscapes, but as she truly was—a woman from a time so far in the future that the very idea of it made his head spin.
"I have to see No-o-chi," Ouray said suddenly, struggling to his feet as the visions began to fade. "I have to speak with my grandmother immediately."
"The council—"
"Can wait." Ouray's voice carried the authority of leadership, but Ha-vi could hear the underlying urgency, the desperation of someone who had encountered something beyond his understanding. "This is more important than trade negotiations or soldier reports. This is about the survival of our people's spirit."
Ha-vi studied his friend's face, seeing something there that went beyond the usual intensity of leadership decisions. "What did you see just now? What happened when you touched those stones?"
"I saw her world, Ha-vi. The woman from my dreams—I saw the time she comes from, the place where she lives. And she's real. She's as real as we are, but she exists in a future so distant that our great-great-grandchildren's great-great-grandchildren will be ancestors to her."
The words sounded impossible even as Ouray spoke them, but the visions had been too clear, too detailed to dismiss. He had seen Maya's true world, and the knowledge of it filled him with both wonder and a deep, aching loneliness.
"Ouray," Ha-vi said carefully, "perhaps you should rest before making any decisions. These visions—"
"Are not madness." Ouray's voice was firm, though he understood his friend's concern. "They are truth, Ha-vi. Truth that I don't yet understand, but truth nonetheless. And if I'm going to help our people survive what's coming, if I'm going to fulfill whatever destiny the spirits have planned for Maya and me, then I need guidance from someone who remembers the old ways."
Ouray found her sitting by her fire, working on a piece of intricate beadwork while humming one of the ancient songs that carried the history of their people. She looked up as he entered, her dark eyes sharp with intelligence despite her advanced age.
"Grandson," she said without surprise, as if she had been expecting his visit. "Come. Sit. Tell me about the woman whose spirit calls to you across impossible distances."
Ouray stopped short, staring at his grandmother in amazement. "How did you know?"
"Because I have been having dreams of my own, child. Dreams of changes coming to our people, of spirits that move between different times like birds flying between different seasons." No-o-chi set aside her beadwork and reached for a small leather pouch that had been sitting beside her. "But more than that, I felt the moment when her spirit touched something of yours. The energy was so strong it woke me from my afternoon rest."
She held out the medicine bag to Ouray, its soft leather worn smooth by countless hands. "I saw her too, grandson. A woman with ancient eyes who carries the blood of two peoples in her veins. She stands at the crossroads between what was and what will be."
"You felt it too?" Ouray accepted the bag, feeling its weight and the subtle energy that seemed to emanate from within.
"A disturbance in the spiritual realm, like ripples spreading across still water. Something that belonged to you was handled by someone whose spirit exists far from this time and place." No-o-chi's expression grew serious. "That bag contains what you will need to cleanse your spirit and open your mind to what the ancestors are trying to tell you. But listen carefully—you must not open it until you have completed three days of fasting and purification. Only when your body is emptied of earthly concerns can these medicines work as they are meant to."
"What's in it?"
"Sacred tobacco from the high mountains, where the spirits speak most clearly. Root of the dream plant that grows only beside the sacred waters. Leaves of the vision herb that our grandmothers used when they needed to see across great distances." She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a whisper. "And one other thing—a piece of the sacred fungus that grows in the caves where our ancestors first learned to walk between worlds."
Ouray felt a shiver of both anticipation and fear. He had heard stories of the sacred medicines, knew they were reserved for only the most profound spiritual journeys.
"When the fasting is complete, you will mix these together and drink them as tea. But understand this, grandson—once you take this medicine, there will be no hiding from what the spirits wish to show you. You will see truth, whether you are ready for it or not."
"And if I'm not ready?"
"Then the medicine will prepare you, though the preparation may be more difficult than you expect. The spirits do not always show us what we want to see. Sometimes they show us what we need to see, even when it frightens us."
Ouray found himself sharing details he hadn't even told Ha-vi—the visions of Maya's true world, the glimpses of a future civilization that existed beyond anything he could have imagined, and most importantly, the absolute certainty that these weren't dreams or fantasies but actual communications across time itself.
No-o-chi listened without interruption, occasionally nodding as if his experiences confirmed things she already knew or suspected. When he finished, she was quiet for several minutes, staring into the fire as if consulting with forces he couldn't see.
"Grandson, what I am about to tell you has been passed down through the women of our family for more generations than we can count. It is knowledge that was given to us by the spirits themselves, instructions for when the time would come that one of our people would need to reach across the boundaries of ordinary existence."
No-o-chi stood up and walked to a wooden chest that sat in the shadows of her lodge. From it, she withdrew a bundle wrapped in soft hide, handling it with the reverence reserved for the most sacred objects.
"This contains the teachings about spirit walking—the practice of sending one's consciousness across great distances and even across different times. It is dangerous knowledge, child. Those who attempt it without proper preparation risk losing themselves in the spaces between worlds."
She returned to the fire and carefully unwrapped the bundle, revealing what appeared to be a collection of small carved stones, each one inscribed with symbols Ouray had never seen before.
"These are spirit guides for the most profound spiritual journey our people know how to undertake. But they can only be used by someone whose heart is pure, whose love is strong enough to anchor their spirit when it travels to places the body cannot follow."
Ouray felt his pulse quicken as he studied the carved stones. Even without touching them, he could sense the power they contained, the accumulated spiritual energy of generations of his ancestors.
"You're saying there's a way to reach her? To actually communicate with Maya while we're both awake?"
"I'm saying there has always been a way, for those who have the courage to attempt it and the love to guide them safely back." No-o-chi's expression grew more serious. "But Ouray, you must understand the cost. Spirit walking requires complete dedication—fasting, meditation, purification rituals that will test the limits of your physical and spiritual endurance. And there's no guarantee you'll return unchanged."
"What do you mean?"
"Those who successfully walk between times often find that their connection to their own time becomes... strained. They may live the rest of their lives feeling as if part of their spirit belongs elsewhere. Some never fully return to ordinary existence at all."
Ouray thought about the growing intensity of his dreams, the way he sometimes woke feeling more real in his visions than in his waking life. Perhaps that process had already begun.
"What if I'm willing to accept that cost? What if reaching Maya is more important to me than remaining unchanged?"
No-o-chi studied his face for a long moment, and Ouray could see her weighing the wisdom of sharing knowledge that could fundamentally alter his existence.
"Then I will teach you the old ways. But first, you must prove that your intentions are pure and your love is genuine. The spirits will test you, grandson. They will push you to the very edges of your endurance to see if your connection to this woman is strong enough to survive what lies ahead."
"How long will the preparation take?"
"Many days of fasting and purification. Nights spent in meditation so deep that your body barely clings to life while your spirit learns to travel. And at the end, if you prove worthy, a final ceremony that will either bring you to her consciousness or lose you forever in the spaces between worlds."
Ouray felt a shiver of fear mixed with anticipation. The path No-o-chi was describing would require him to risk everything—his health, his sanity, possibly his life—for the chance to reach across time itself to touch Maya's spirit.
"When would I begin?"
"Immediately, if you're certain this is what you want. But Ouray, you must understand that once you begin this journey, there will be no turning back. The spiritual forces involved are too powerful to approach casually. You will either succeed completely or fail completely. There is no middle ground."
Ouray thought about the council meeting he was supposed to attend, the trade negotiations that required his attention, the countless responsibilities that came with leading his people through increasingly difficult times. All of it seemed distant and unimportant compared to the possibility of reaching Maya.
"What would I need to tell my people? How would I explain my absence?"
"You would tell them that their chief is undertaking the most important spiritual journey of his life, one that may determine the future survival of our tribe's spirit." No-o-chi began wrapping the carved stones back in their protective hide. "Some will understand. Others will worry. But if you succeed, if you manage to bridge the gap between your time and hers, the knowledge you gain could help our people in ways we cannot yet imagine."
"And if I fail?"
"Then our people will mourn a chief who died in service of love and spiritual truth. There are worse ways to be remembered."
The weight of the decision pressed down on Ouray like storm clouds gathering on the horizon. Everything No-o-chi was describing sounded both terrifying and inevitable, as if his entire life had been leading to this moment of choice.
"How soon could we begin the preparations?"
"Tomorrow, if you're ready. But tonight, you should speak with Ha-vi and your mother. They deserve to understand what you're about to attempt, even if they cannot fully comprehend the spiritual forces involved."
Ouray spent the rest of the day handling the immediate needs of his people, but his mind kept drifting to the visions he'd experienced and the possibility of reaching Maya through intentional spiritual practice rather than random dreams. The trade negotiations felt surreal, as if he was watching someone else make decisions about concerns that belonged to a different lifetime.
That evening, he found Ha-vi by the central fire, sharing stories with some of the younger warriors. Ouray waited until the others had dispersed before approaching his oldest friend.
"I need to tell you something," Ouray said, settling beside Ha-vi on the log that served as their informal council seat.
"About the visions you had this morning?"
"About what I'm going to do in response to those visions." Ouray looked into the fire, gathering his thoughts. "Ha-vi, what would you say if I told you I was planning to undertake a spiritual journey that might separate me from the village for many days?"
"I'd say that depends on the nature of the journey and whether our people can afford to be without their chief for an extended period." Ha-vi's tone was cautious but not dismissive. "What kind of spiritual journey?"
"The kind that No-o-chi calls spirit walking. A practice that allows consciousness to travel across great distances and even across different times." Ouray turned to face his friend directly. "I'm going to attempt to reach Maya while we're both awake, to communicate with her in real time rather than waiting for dreams."
Ha-vi was quiet for several minutes, processing the implications of what Ouray was suggesting. When he spoke, his voice was careful but concerned.
"How dangerous is this spirit walking?"
"Dangerous enough that there's no guarantee I'll survive it unchanged. But Ha-vi, the visions I had today showed me that Maya is real, that she exists in a time far beyond our own, and that she's somehow connected to the survival of our people's spirit. If I don't attempt to reach her, if I don't explore this connection fully, I may be failing in my responsibilities as a leader."
"And if you attempt it and something goes wrong? If you're lost in these spaces between worlds that No-o-chi described? What happens to our people then?"
It was the question Ouray had been asking himself all day, the weight of leadership responsibility balanced against the pull of spiritual calling. "Then you would lead them, as you've been prepared to do since we were boys. And they would know that their chief died trying to secure their spiritual future, not just their physical survival."
Ha-vi stared into the fire, his expression troubled. "When would this journey begin?"
"Tomorrow. No-o-chi says the preparation could take many days, possibly weeks. I would need to fast, meditate, undergo purification rituals that will test my physical and spiritual limits."
"And at the end?"
"A ceremony that will either bring me to Maya's consciousness or..." Ouray's voice trailed off, but they both understood the alternative.
"Ouray, I've followed you into battle, supported your decisions as a leader, and trusted your judgment even when I didn't understand your reasoning. But this..." Ha-vi shook his head. "This sounds like you're choosing a woman you've never met over the people who depend on you."
"I'm choosing the spiritual future of our people over their immediate comfort. And Ha-vi, I have met her. Not in this time, not in this world, but I've spoken with her, touched her, shared thoughts and feelings with her across impossible distances. She's not a fantasy or a wish—she's as real as you are, just displaced in time."
Ha-vi was quiet for a long moment, studying his friend's face in the firelight. "You're absolutely certain about this course of action?"
"As certain as I've ever been about anything in my life."
"Then I'll support you, as I always have. But promise me something—if these rituals begin to threaten your life, if No-o-chi determines that the spiritual forces are too dangerous to continue, you'll abandon this quest and return to your responsibilities here."
"I promise to trust No-o-chi's guidance about the spiritual aspects of the journey. But Ha-vi, I can't promise to abandon the quest just because it becomes dangerous. Some things are worth risking everything for."
The next morning, Ouray began the most intensive spiritual preparation of his life. No-o-chi had outlined a regimen that would purify his body and spirit, opening his consciousness to spiritual forces that most people never encountered.
The first stage involved complete fasting—no food would pass his lips, only the sacred tea made from the medicines No-o-chi had given him, and water blessed in traditional ceremonies. His body would be purified of all earthly sustenance, making his spirit light enough to travel the impossible distances required.
"The body must become an empty vessel," No-o-chi explained as she prepared the sacred tobacco he would burn during his meditations. "If your physical form is weighed down by food and ordinary concerns, your spirit will not be able to separate and journey to where she waits."
Along with the fasting came the sacred tea—a bitter brew made from the medicines in the leather pouch, drunk only at sunrise and sunset to maintain his connection to the spiritual realm. The tobacco would be burned continuously during his meditation sessions, its sacred smoke carrying his prayers and intentions to the ancestors who would guide his journey.
Along with the fasting came meditation—hours each day spent in complete stillness, learning to separate his consciousness from his physical form. No-o-chi taught him breathing techniques that had been passed down through generations of spiritual practitioners, methods for entering trance states so deep that his awareness of the ordinary world faded to almost nothing.
"The goal is to train your spirit to exist independently of your body," she explained during one of his first meditation sessions. "Most people live their entire lives with consciousness and physical form so tightly bound that they cannot imagine one without the other. You must learn to loosen those bonds until your spirit can travel while your body remains safely behind."
The most challenging aspect of the preparation was the purification rituals—ceremonies involving sweat lodges, sacred plants, and spiritual practices that pushed his endurance to its limits. No-o-chi would burn herbs that made his head swim with visions, lead him through chants that seemed to alter the very nature of time, and guide him through experiences that left him feeling as if he'd touched the edges of reality itself.
"Pain and discomfort are teachers," she told him during one particularly difficult ceremony. "They show you which parts of your awareness are still trapped in ordinary concerns and which parts are free to travel beyond normal boundaries."
As the days passed, Ouray found himself changing in ways that were both subtle and profound. His connection to the everyday concerns of village life began to feel distant, as if he was observing his leadership responsibilities from a great height. His dreams became so vivid that he sometimes had difficulty determining when he was asleep and when he was awake.
Most importantly, his awareness of Maya grew stronger with each passing day. During his deepest meditations, he could sense her presence like a bright warmth at the edge of his consciousness. Sometimes he caught glimpses of her daily activities—seeing her interact with people whose faces he didn't recognize, watching her study documents covered with markings he couldn't read, feeling her emotions as if they were his own.
Ha-vi visited him daily, bringing reports from the council and updates on tribal affairs, but these conversations felt increasingly surreal. The concerns that had once consumed Ouray's attention—trade negotiations, territorial disputes, preparations for winter—seemed to belong to a different person's life.
"You look different," Ha-vi observed during one of these visits. "Thinner, yes, but more than that. Your eyes look like you're seeing things the rest of us can't see."
"Because I am," Ouray replied, his voice carrying a dreamy quality that hadn't been there before the spiritual preparation began. "I'm seeing across distances that have no names, into a time that exists beyond our understanding of what's possible."
"Are you reaching her? This woman from your dreams?"
"Getting closer. No-o-chi says my spirit is almost ready for the final ceremony, the one that will either bring me fully into Maya's consciousness or lose me in the attempt."
Ha-vi's expression grew more worried. "How will you know if you've succeeded?"
"I'll be able to speak with her while she's awake, to share her experiences in real time rather than waiting for dreams. And she'll be able to sense my presence, to know that I'm real and that our connection transcends the boundaries of ordinary existence."
"And if you fail?"
Ouray was quiet for a moment, considering possibilities he had been avoiding. "Then you'll find my body by the sacred lake, my spirit lost somewhere in the spaces between times. But Ha-vi, I would rather risk that fate than spend the rest of my life knowing I hadn't tried to reach the woman who completes my soul."
On the seventh day of his preparation, No-o-chi declared that he was ready for the final ceremony. His body had been purified through fasting and ritual, his consciousness had been trained to separate from physical form, and his spirit had been prepared to undertake the most dangerous journey known to their people.
"Tonight, when the moon is highest, we will attempt the crossing," she announced, her voice carrying the weight of ancient knowledge. "You will enter a trance deeper than any you have experienced, and I will guide your spirit toward the time and place where Maya exists. If your love is strong enough, if your spiritual preparation has been sufficient, you will find her consciousness and be able to communicate with her directly."
"What will happen to my body while my spirit is traveling?"
"It will remain here by the sacred lake, maintained by spiritual forces but barely alive. Your breathing will be so shallow it will seem like death, your heartbeat so faint it will be almost undetectable. To anyone watching, you will appear to be dying."
"How long will the ceremony last?"
"That depends on how far your spirit must travel and how long you can maintain the connection once you reach her. Some spirit walkers return within hours. Others remain in the trance for days before their consciousness finds its way back to their physical form."
Ouray felt a mixture of anticipation and terror at the prospect of what lay ahead. Everything in his life had been leading to this moment—the years of dreams, the growing intensity of his connection to Maya, the spiritual training that had prepared him for this ultimate test of love and faith.
"What if I don't want to return? What if being with Maya's consciousness feels more real than existing in my own time?"
No-o-chi's expression grew serious. "That is the greatest danger of spirit walking. The temptation to abandon your physical form and remain in the spiritual realm with the one you love. But Ouray, if you give in to that temptation, both your body and Maya's spirit will be lost. She is not yet prepared for the kind of spiritual merger that would allow you to exist together outside of time. You must visit her consciousness and return, again and again, until she is ready to make her own journey toward you."
As the sun set and the moon began to rise, Ouray made his way to the sacred lake where this spiritual journey had begun. No-o-chi followed, carrying the carved spirit guides and the herbs needed for the ceremony. The water was perfectly still, reflecting the stars like a mirror between worlds.
"Lie here by the water's edge," No-o-chi instructed, indicating a spot where the lake's energy was strongest. "Let your body rest while your spirit prepares for the greatest journey of your life."
Ouray settled onto the smooth stones, feeling the coolness of the mountain air against his skin. No-o-chi began the ceremony with chants in the oldest language their people knew, words that seemed to alter the very texture of the night around them.
She burned herbs that made reality feel fluid, that loosened the bonds between consciousness and physical form until Ouray felt as if he was floating just above his own body. The carved spirit guides were placed around him in patterns that had been used by spiritual practitioners for generations, creating a sacred space that would anchor his spirit and guide it safely across impossible distances.
"Remember," No-o-chi's voice seemed to come from very far away as the trance deepened, "you are seeking Maya's consciousness. Follow the connection you feel to her, let love be your guide, but do not forget the path back to your own time and body."
Ouray felt his awareness separating from his physical form, rising like smoke from his motionless body. The sensation was both terrifying and exhilarating—consciousness existing without the weight and limitations of flesh, spirit free to travel according to will rather than physical laws.
As his spirit lifted free, his bear guide materialized beside him, its massive presence both comforting and powerful.
"Guide me safely, old friend," Ouray spoke to the bear in the language of spirits. "I have never attempted a journey this far before."
"The path is treacherous," the bear spirit replied, its voice rumbling through the spiritual realm. "Many who attempt to cross such distances become lost in the spaces between times. You must follow my guidance exactly, never stray from the path I show you."
"Will I be able to find my way back to my body?"
"If your love is true and your purpose pure, yes. But if you allow yourself to become too attached to her time, too reluctant to return, you may find the path home has disappeared." The bear's spiritual eyes held ancient wisdom. "Remember - this is a visit, not a permanent crossing. That choice will come later, for both of you."
The journey across time felt like falling upward through layers of existence, each one showing him glimpses of different eras and possibilities. The bear guide led him through the shifting currents, warning him away from paths that led to dangerous territories.
"Do not look too long at those visions," the bear counseled as they passed through a particularly vivid layer showing potential futures. "They are meant to distract spirits from their true destination. Focus only on the golden thread that connects you to her."
"How will I know when I've found the right time, the right place?"
"You will feel her presence like sunlight after winter. The connection between your spirits will grow stronger until it pulls you directly to where she stands." The bear paused in their journey. "But remember - in her time, you can only exist as spirit. Do not attempt to take physical form, or you will be trapped there forever."
And through it all, he followed the golden thread of connection that led toward Maya, the spiritual bond that had been pulling him across impossible distances since childhood. The thread grew stronger as he traveled, brighter, until it felt like following a river of light toward its source.
When he finally found her, the reunion was both shocking and perfect. Maya was standing by the sacred lake—not as it existed in his time, but as it would exist in hers, surrounded by subtle differences that spoke of all the years that lay between them. She looked exactly as she had in his dreams, but seeing her with his spiritual consciousness rather than in sleep made her seem infinitely more real, more precious.
She was staring at the water with an expression of wonder and confusion, as if she sensed something but couldn't quite identify what it was. Ouray felt his bear spirit guide beside him, its powerful presence providing protection and guidance as they approached Maya's consciousness together.
The bear spirit nudged him forward encouragingly, its ancient wisdom helping him navigate the treacherous spaces between times. This was dangerous territory - the realm where spirits could become lost forever - but with his guide's protection, Ouray felt confident enough to make contact.
Maya's eyes widened suddenly, and Ouray realized she could see his bear spirit guide even before she could see him clearly. The massive bear materialized near the lake's edge, its form shimmering with otherworldly energy, watching over both of them as Ouray's human spiritual form became visible to her.
"I can see you," Maya whispered, her gaze moving between the protective bear spirit and Ouray himself. "Both of you."
"Maya," he whispered, his voice carrying across the spiritual realm rather than through ordinary air.
She turned toward the sound, her eyes wide with recognition and amazement. "I can hear you. You're really here."
"I'm here, Numa. Not in body, but in spirit. I've crossed time itself to speak with you."
The joy on her face was so intense it made his spiritual form tremble with emotion. "How is this possible? How are you reaching me?"
"Through love, through spiritual practices my people have preserved for generations, through the same force that has been pulling us toward each other in dreams." Ouray moved closer, wishing he could touch her but settling for the profound intimacy of sharing consciousness. "Maya, you're standing at the sacred lake. Do you feel its power?"
"I feel... something. Like the water is alive, like it's calling to me." She looked around, taking in the landscape with new awareness. "This is where you are? In your time?"
"This is where our spirits meet, in a place that exists between times. Maya, I need you to understand—what we share is real. I am real, you are real, and the love between us transcends every boundary that should separate us."
He saw tears streaming down her face, and felt his own spiritual form respond with overwhelming emotion. "I've been so confused, so scared that I was losing my mind. But you're here. You're actually here."
"I will always be here when you need me, Numa. But tonight is only the beginning. I will continue to reach across time to you, to speak with you, to prepare you for the choices that lie ahead."
"What choices?"
"The choice of whether to remain in your time as an observer of our love, or to trust the sacred lake enough to cross into mine. The choice of whether to be content with spiritual connection, or to risk everything for physical reunion."
Maya's expression grew thoughtful and slightly fearful. "What would happen if I chose to cross into your time?"
"We would be together as we were meant to be. But Maya, that choice would separate you from your own time, and I'm not sure you would be able to return. This has never happened before that I know of - no one has ever crossed between times like this and then tried to go back."
"And if I chose to stay in my time?"
"Then I would continue to reach you in spirit for as long as my strength allows. But eventually, the effort of crossing between times would consume me, and our connection would fade until only dreams remained."
They stood together by the spiritual lake, sharing consciousness in a way that was more intimate than physical touch. Ouray could feel Maya's thoughts, her emotions, her growing understanding of the impossible choice that lay ahead of them.
"How long do we have before I must decide?"
"Time moves differently in the spiritual realm. But in your world, you will need to choose soon. The sacred lake is calling to you, Maya. I can feel its pull even from here. When that call becomes irresistible, when your spirit demands reunion more than your mind demands safety, you'll know it's time to trust in our love."
The connection began to waver as Ouray's spiritual strength reached its limits. The effort of crossing time and maintaining consciousness in Maya's era was enormous, and he could feel his spirit being pulled back toward his own body.
"I have to return to my time now," he told her, his spiritual voice growing fainter. "But I will come to you again, as often as I can, until you're ready to make your choice."
"Wait," Maya called out, reaching toward his fading spiritual form. "Tell me your name. In dreams, you never say your name directly."
"Ouray," he whispered as the connection dissolved. "My name is Ouray, and I will love you across any distance, through any obstacle, until we can be together in the same world."
Ouray's consciousness snapped back to his physical body like a bowstring releasing. He gasped, his eyes flying open to find No-o-chi leaning over him with concern and relief.
"You're back," she said, her voice shaky with emotion. "You've been gone for two days. Your body barely clung to life while your spirit traveled."
"Two days?" Ouray struggled to sit up, his body weak from the extended spiritual journey. "It felt like hours."
"Time moves differently in the spiritual realm. But tell me—did you reach her? Did you make contact with Maya's consciousness?"
"I reached her," Ouray said, his voice filled with wonder and exhaustion. "I spoke with her while she stood at the sacred lake in her time. She heard me, recognized me, understood that our connection is real."
"And what will happen now?"
"Now I prepare for the next crossing. And the next. Until Maya is ready to trust the sacred lake enough to join me in my time." Ouray looked out at the water that had facilitated this miraculous reunion. "No-o-chi, she's going to need time to accept what's happening to her, to understand the choice she'll eventually face. But when that moment comes, when she's ready to risk everything for love, I'll be here waiting for her."
No-o-chi's expression grew deeply concerned. "Grandson, you cannot continue these spirit journeys repeatedly. What you accomplished tonight nearly killed you - your body was barely alive for two days. No human spirit is strong enough to keep traveling between worlds like this."
"But if Maya needs guidance, if she needs to hear from me to understand—"
"Then she will have to find her own way to understanding, because you will not survive many more crossings." No-o-chi's voice was firm, carrying the authority of ancient wisdom. "The spirit realm is not meant for the living to visit repeatedly. Each journey tears at the connection between your soul and your body. A few more attempts like this, and your spirit may not be able to find its way back at all."
Ouray felt a chill of fear mixed with frustration. "So what am I supposed to do? Just abandon her to figure this out alone?"
"You are supposed to trust that what you accomplished tonight was enough to plant the seed of understanding in her heart. If your connection is truly as strong as you believe, she will feel the truth of what you shared and make her own choice accordingly." No-o-chi placed a weathered hand on his shoulder. "Sometimes love means knowing when to step back and let the other person find their own path to you."
No-o-chi helped him stand, supporting his weakened body as they made their way back toward the village. "The spiritual crossing has changed you, grandson. I can see it in your eyes, feel it in your energy. You are no longer entirely of this time."
"Part of me belongs with her now," Ouray admitted. "Part of me will always belong with her, no matter how many years separate us."
"Then we must find another way for you to communicate with her. The spirit walking is too dangerous to repeat often, but perhaps there are other methods - through dreams, through the sacred objects you've blessed, through signs she can recognize without requiring your physical presence in her time."
As they walked through the pre-dawn darkness toward the village, Ouray felt a profound sense of completion mixed with uncertainty. The spiritual journey had been successful beyond his hopes—he had reached Maya and established a connection that proved their love transcended time itself. But No-o-chi's warnings weighed heavily on his mind. He would need to find other ways to communicate with Maya, safer methods that wouldn't risk his life with each attempt.
The sacred lake had shown him that love was indeed stronger than time, stronger than the boundaries that seemed to separate impossible worlds. Now he had to trust that the seed of understanding he'd planted in Maya's heart would be enough to guide her toward the choice that awaited them both.