Ouray was sitting by the morning fire outside his lodge, sharing the dawn meal with Ha-vi and discussing the day's hunting plans, when the sensation struck him like lightning. It wasn't the gradual pull he had felt during his dreams, or the intense spiritual preparation required for spirit walking. This was immediate, urgent, and completely different from anything he had experienced before.
Maya was calling to him.
The feeling was so strong it made him gasp, dropping his bowl of corn mush as both hands flew to his chest where the spiritual pull seemed to originate. But this wasn't the dangerous tearing sensation of being pulled between worlds—it felt like a rope thrown across churning water, solid and reliable, offering connection without requiring him to leave his anchor in this time.
"Ouray?" Ha-vi's voice seemed to come from very far away. "What is it? What's happening?"
"She's calling to me," Ouray said, struggling to his feet as the spiritual pull grew stronger. "But not like before. This is... different. Safer."
Ha-vi jumped up, grabbing Ouray's arm to steady him. "Should I get No-o-chi? You look like you're about to fall into one of those spiritual trances."
"Yes, get her quickly. And tell her..." Ouray paused, trying to understand what his spirit was telling him. "Tell her Maya has found a new way to reach across time, and I need guidance about how to respond safely."
Ha-vi ran toward No-o-chi's lodge while Ouray struggled with the growing intensity of Maya's call. His brother had seen him through many challenges over the years, but nothing like this spiritual calling that defied every natural law. The sensation felt like Maya was pulling at something deep inside him, not trying to drag his consciousness from his body but inviting it to extend across impossible distances while remaining anchored to this place.
No-o-chi appeared within minutes, moving with surprising speed for her advanced age, her arms full of sacred items that she must have gathered the moment Ha-vi delivered his message. Ha-vi followed close behind her, his face tight with concern for his brother.
"I felt the disturbance in the spiritual realm," she said, immediately beginning to arrange stones and ceremonial objects around the space where Ouray stood swaying. "This energy is completely different from the spirit walking. She has found a way to call to you without requiring you to leave your body behind."
"Can you help me respond safely?"
"Yes, but you must do exactly as I say. Sit here, in the center of these stones. They will anchor your spirit to this place while allowing your consciousness to travel." No-o-chi worked quickly, placing carved stones at the four directions around Ouray, then adding smaller stones between them. "These have been blessed for spiritual communication. They will keep you grounded in this time no matter how far your awareness travels."
Ha-vi settled nearby, clearly intending to stay and witness whatever was about to happen. "Should I remain, grandmother? To watch over him?"
"Yes, stay close. If anything seems wrong with his breathing or if he appears to be in distress, alert me immediately." No-o-chi lit a bundle of sage, letting the smoke drift over the sacred circle. "This is unlike anything we have attempted before."
Ouray settled cross-legged in the center of the stone circle, feeling the spiritual pull growing stronger by the moment. "Grandmother, I can feel her waiting. How do I respond?"
"Close your eyes and focus on the sensation of her call. But do not try to go to her—instead, allow your consciousness to extend toward hers while remaining rooted in these stones, in this fire, in this moment." No-o-chi lit a bundle of sage, letting the smoke drift over the sacred circle. "Remember always that your body stays here, that your primary existence remains in this time. You are reaching across distance, not crossing between worlds."
Following his grandmother's guidance, Ouray closed his eyes and allowed his awareness to follow the golden thread of Maya's call while keeping part of his attention focused on the warmth of the stones beneath him and the scent of sacred smoke surrounding him.
The journey across time felt like stepping through a doorway made of starlight. One moment he was sitting by his morning fire with the familiar sounds of his village around him, the next his consciousness was present in Maya's world, in her small lodge filled with the warm glow of many candles.
And there she was.
Ouray's breath caught in his throat—or perhaps it was his spiritual form that trembled with recognition and longing. Maya sat cross-legged on the floor of her lodge, surrounded by blue and white flames, the medallion he had blessed glowing warm in her hands. But it was her face that made his soul sing with joy and ache with desire all at once.
She looked exactly as she had in his dreams, but seeing her while both of them were fully conscious gave the moment a reality that dreams could never achieve. Her dark eyes held intelligence and strength, but also vulnerability and hope. Her hair fell loose around her shoulders, catching the candlelight in a way that made his fingers long to touch the silken strands. When she looked up and met his spiritual presence, her face transformed with such radiant joy that he felt his heart might burst from the beauty of it.
This was his Numa. Not a dream, not a vision, not a spiritual projection of his longing—this was the woman whose soul called to his across more than a century of separation. Real, present, waiting for him with love shining in her eyes.
He wanted desperately to reach out and touch her face, to feel the warmth of her skin beneath his hands, to pull her close and never let distance separate them again. The longing was so intense it was almost painful, made worse by the knowledge that this spiritual connection, wonderful as it was, could only offer them the intimacy of shared consciousness, not the physical comfort their hearts craved.
"Numa," he whispered, and watched tears of relief and recognition spring to her eyes at the sound of her name in his voice.
[Hours later, his spiritual communication with Maya ends]
Ouray's consciousness returned to his physical body like a soul settling back into familiar clothes. The sensation was smooth and natural, leaving him spiritually centered but emotionally torn in half by having to leave Maya behind.
His eyes snapped open suddenly, pupils dilating as his awareness fully settled back into his physical form. For a moment he looked disoriented, blinking rapidly as he adjusted from the warm candlelight of Maya's lodge to the natural firelight of his own time. He found himself still seated within the circle of sacred stones, No-o-chi and Ha-vi both watching him with careful attention.
"Grandson." No-o-chi's voice was gentle but probing. "You have returned. How do you feel? Are you still grounded in this time and place?"
Ha-vi leaned forward, relief evident in his voice. "Brother, you've been gone for hours. Your breathing was so shallow we could barely see your chest rise and fall. But you never seemed distressed - it was like you were sleeping deeply."
Ouray stretched carefully, testing his physical form for signs of strain or weakness. The dangerous exhaustion that had followed his spirit walking was completely absent. His body felt rested, his spirit felt centered, and his mind remained clear and focused.
"How long was I gone?"
"Since before dawn. The sun now stands directly overhead." No-o-chi moved closer, studying his face with the penetrating gaze that had always been able to see through any pretense. "But you look as if you have slept peacefully rather than undertaken a perilous spiritual journey. Tell me what you experienced."
Ouray described the communication session in detail—how Maya's energy had pulled his consciousness across time without requiring him to actively spirit walk, how clear and stable their connection had felt, how he had been able to speak with her extensively without the spiritual strain that had nearly killed him before.
"This is very different from the spirit walking," he concluded. "My woman has found a way to bridge the distance between our times that does not require me to risk my connection to this world."
No-o-chi nodded thoughtfully, but her expression remained cautious. "Tell me about the quality of the connection. Did you feel anchored to this time and place, or did you feel yourself being drawn toward hers?"
"Anchored. Always anchored. I was aware of sitting in this lodge, aware of the fire and the sacred items, aware of my physical body remaining safely here. But I was also present with her in a way that felt completely real."
"And when the connection ended?"
"My consciousness returned smoothly, naturally. There was no struggle, no sense of being lost between worlds." Ouray paused, considering how to express something he didn't fully understand himself. "Grandmother, it felt like the safest spiritual experience I have ever had."
No-o-chi was quiet for several minutes, staring into the fire as if consulting with forces he couldn't see. When she spoke, her voice carried the weight of ancient knowledge and careful consideration.
"What you describe sounds like a form of spiritual communication our ancestors knew but that has not been practiced for many generations. The ability to have one's consciousness called across great distances while remaining safely grounded in one's own time and place."
"You have heard of such things before?"
"In the oldest stories, yes. But those tales spoke of communications across physical distance, not across time itself. What Maya has accomplished..." No-o-chi shook her head in wonder. "This goes beyond anything in our traditional knowledge."
Ouray felt a mixture of excitement and concern. "Does that mean it is dangerous? That we should not attempt it again?"
"It means we need guidance from those who understand spiritual forces better than either of us. We need to speak with the medicine council and the keeper of ancient ways." No-o-chi stood up with deliberate movements. "Ouray, this connection with Maya has moved beyond what any individual can safely navigate alone. It is time to involve the spiritual leaders of our people."
The prospect of sharing his experiences with the tribal council filled Ouray with both relief and apprehension. He had been carrying the weight of this spiritual calling largely alone, seeking guidance only from his grandmother and closest advisors. But if the connection with Maya was going to continue and deepen, if there was any possibility of her eventually crossing between times, then the wisdom of the entire spiritual community would be needed.
"How much should I tell them?"
"Everything, grandson. The dreams, the spirit walking, Maya's true nature and the time she comes from, the choice that may eventually face both of you." No-o-chi's expression grew serious. "Our people have the right to understand what forces are affecting their chief, especially if those forces may lead to decisions that impact the entire tribe."
"And if they counsel against pursuing this connection?"
"Then you will have to choose between the guidance of your elders and the calling of your heart. But Ouray, our people have always understood that some spiritual paths cannot be walked by everyone, and that leaders sometimes face choices that ordinary members of the tribe do not. They may surprise you with their wisdom and support."
That afternoon, No-o-chi arranged for a gathering of the tribal council's spiritual advisors—five elders who had spent their lives studying the mysteries of the spirit world and guiding their people through supernatural challenges. They met in the council lodge, a larger structure reserved for the most important tribal business, its walls lined with sacred objects and the symbols of their ancestors' wisdom. Ha-vi accompanied Ouray to the meeting, ready to provide testimony about what he had witnessed.
Ouray had addressed councils before, but never about matters so personal or so removed from ordinary leadership concerns. As he faced the circle of elders—three women and two men whose combined experience spanned more than four centuries of life—he struggled to find words for experiences that challenged everything he thought he knew about the nature of reality. Ha-vi sat beside him, his presence offering silent support and the promise of corroborating witness.
"Honored elders," he began, "I come before you seeking guidance about spiritual experiences that I do not fully understand, but that may affect the future of our people in ways I cannot predict."
Elder Mato, the oldest member of the council and keeper of the most ancient stories, gestured for him to continue. "Speak freely, Chief Ouray. We have seen many things in our years, and we understand that leadership sometimes brings spiritual challenges that cannot be faced alone."
Ouray told them everything. The dreams that had begun in childhood, intensifying over the years until they dominated his sleep. The woman whose face he had come to know better than his own, whose spirit called to him from across impossible distances. The dangerous spirit walking he had undertaken to reach her, and the remarkable communication method she had discovered that allowed them to speak without risking his life.
He described Maya's true nature—a woman from a time far in the future, though he did not know how far, of mixed heritage that connected her to their ancestral lands, a storyteller whose work involved preserving and sharing the histories of people whose voices had been forgotten. Most importantly, he shared the choice that was slowly taking shape between them: the possibility that love could transcend time itself, but only if one of them was willing to cross permanently into the other's world.
The elders listened without interruption, their faces showing neither skepticism nor surprise, only the kind of deep attention that came from lifetimes spent studying mysteries that most people never encountered. When Ouray finished, they remained silent for several minutes, each lost in their own contemplation of what they had heard.
Elder Na-wa spoke first, her voice carrying the authority of someone who had served as the tribe's primary medicine woman for more than forty years. "Chief Ouray, you speak of experiences that challenge our understanding of time and spiritual connection. But you do not speak of madness or delusion. The consistency of your visions, the practical guidance you have received, the successful communication methods you have described—these suggest genuine spiritual phenomena rather than mental confusion."
"You believe what I am experiencing is real?"
"We believe that the spirit world operates according to laws we do not fully understand, and that love is one of the most powerful forces in creation. If love can move mountains and change the course of rivers, why should it not be able to move between different times?" Elder Mato's ancient voice carried certainty born of long experience with impossible things. "The question is not whether your experiences are real, but how to navigate them wisely."
Ha-vi spoke up from beside Ouray, his voice respectful but firm. "Honored elders, I witnessed my brother's spiritual communication with this woman. I saw him enter a state unlike any sleep or trance I have ever observed. His breathing became so shallow it was barely visible, yet he appeared peaceful, not distressed. For hours he remained in this state, and when he returned, he described her world in such detail, with such consistency, that I cannot believe it was imagination."
Elder Wi-chi nodded approvingly at Ha-vi's testimony. "And what was your impression of his condition when he returned to awareness?"
"He was clear-minded immediately upon waking. Not confused or weakened as he was after the spirit walking, but centered and present. The details he shared were too specific, too strange to our understanding, to be invented." Ha-vi looked at his brother with respect. "I have known Ouray since childhood. I have never seen him speak with such precise knowledge about things that do not exist in our world."
"What kind of details?" Elder Mato asked, leaning forward with interest. "What did he describe that seemed so impossible yet consistent?"
Ha-vi glanced at Ouray, who nodded encouragingly. "He spoke of her lodge having walls smooth as river stones but white as snow, with no visible seams or joints. He described flames that burned without wood or oil, contained in vessels clear as ice that never melted. He told of a small object she held that glowed with inner light, showing moving images of places and people far away - images that changed when she touched the object, as if she commanded them."
The elders exchanged meaningful glances as Ha-vi continued.
"Most strange of all, he spoke of her village having more people than all the buffalo on the plains, connected to other villages by paths of stone stretching beyond the horizon. These are not things a man invents in madness - they are too detailed, too consistent with each other, as if they all belonged to the same impossible world."
Elder Na-wa studied Ha-vi's face carefully. "And you believed him as he spoke these things?"
"I believed he had truly seen them. His wonder was genuine, his struggle to find words for things that have no names in our language was real. A man inventing fantasies does not show such honest confusion about how to describe what he claims to have witnessed."
Elder Wi-chi, the youngest member of the council but acknowledged as having the strongest gift for seeing across spiritual distances, leaned forward with intense interest. "This woman, Maya—when you communicate with her using her calling method, can you sense anything about her spiritual strength? About her ability to survive crossing between times?"
"She is strong," Ouray replied without hesitation. "Stronger than she knows, I think. Her spirit feels... substantial. Grounded in her own time but capable of reaching across great distances. And she carries something of our ancestral lands in her blood, which may help her adapt if she chooses to cross."
"How far in the future does she exist?" Elder Mato asked. "What time does she come from?"
Ouray felt heat rise in his face as he realized the gap in his knowledge. "I... I do not know the exact time. I never asked her that question." He looked down at his hands, embarrassed. "But from what I witnessed in her world, from the strange objects and the scale of her village, I would guess perhaps two hundred years in the future. Maybe more."
Elder Na-wa nodded thoughtfully. "That you did not think to ask specific details shows this was genuine spiritual communication, not a constructed fantasy. In real conversations, we focus on the person and the connection, not on gathering information like a scout reporting back from enemy territory."
She stood up slowly, her ancient joints protesting, and moved toward Ouray with purposeful steps. "Chief Ouray, give me your hands. Let me look inside your spirit and see what you have seen. If these visions are true, they will still carry traces of the spiritual energy from her world."
Ouray extended his hands, palms up, allowing the medicine woman to place her weathered fingers over his. The moment their skin touched, Elder Na-wa's eyes rolled back, showing only white, and her body went rigid as she entered a deep trance state.
For several minutes, she remained motionless, her breathing shallow, while the other elders watched in respectful silence. Ha-vi looked nervous, but No-o-chi nodded approvingly - this was exactly the kind of verification they needed.
Suddenly, Elder Na-wa gasped and pulled her hands back as if burned, her eyes snapping open wide with wonder and shock.
"I saw it," she whispered, her voice shaking. "I saw her world through his eyes. Lodges that reach toward the sky like mountains, paths of stone stretching beyond sight, people in numbers like leaves on all the trees in the forest." She looked around at the other elders with amazement. "And the woman - Maya - I saw her face, her lodge with its strange flames, the glowing object in her hands. These are not visions born of mind-sickness or longing. These are memories of a true spiritual journey to another time."
Elder Mato leaned forward intently. "What did you sense about the woman herself? About her spiritual nature?"
"Strong. Very strong. Her spirit burns bright with love for our chief, but also with purpose of her own. She carries the blood of two peoples in her veins, and..." Elder Na-wa paused, her expression growing more amazed. "She carries something else. Knowledge. Stories. The history of what happens to our people in the years to come."
The other elders exchanged significant looks. Elder Wi-chi spoke quietly, "Then the prophecies are true. Singing Bird's descendant has returned, carrying the future back to the past."
"Ah," said Elder Paa-chi, the woman responsible for maintaining their people's genealogical knowledge. "You speak of Singing Bird's descendant. You know Singing Bird - she lives among us with her four children. But what you may not know is that she came to us with powerful visions about her own bloodline."
Ouray's eyes widened in surprise. "Singing Bird? The woman who came to us from the eastern lands? She had visions?"
"Yes, from the moment she arrived, she spoke to the women's council of visions she'd received about one of her descendants who would return to our lands by crossing between different times. She said this descendant would bring knowledge of our people's future and would find love with one of our warriors." Elder Paa-chi's expression grew meaningful. "She foresaw your dreams, Chief Ouray. She foresaw Maya's eventual crossing to our time."
"But my dreams started before she even arrived in our village," Ouray said, his voice filled with wonder. "I have been seeing Maya's face since I was a boy, long before Singing Bird came to us."
Elder Mato nodded knowingly. "That is because the spiritual forces were already at work, drawing you both toward this destiny. Singing Bird's visions confirmed what was already unfolding - she saw the same future the spirits had been preparing you for since childhood."
"Singing Bird knew this would happen?" Ouray felt amazement wash over him. "All this time, she was living among us knowing that her descendant would..."
"Would find her way back through love that transcends time itself. The bone prophecy Elder Mato carries was carved according to Singing Bird's own visions." Elder Paa-chi leaned forward. "She has been quietly preparing for this day, Chief Ouray. We must bring you to meet with her immediately - there are things she needs to tell you about what is to come."
"What prophecies?"
Elder Mato opened a bundle of sacred objects he had brought to the council, withdrawing a piece of carved bone covered with symbols that seemed to shift and dance in the firelight. "This was made according to Singing Bird's own visions when she first came to us. She described what she had seen in her dreams, and our spiritual leaders carved her prophecies into this bone. It speaks of her bloodline returning in a time of great change, when the old ways and new ways must find harmony, when love would prove stronger than the forces trying to divide our people from their true heritage."
Ouray studied the carved symbols, recognizing some but finding others mysterious. "Does it say anything about crossing between times?"
"It speaks of journeys that transcend ordinary understanding, of souls that find each other despite every obstacle, of choices that will determine whether our spiritual traditions survive into distant futures." Elder Mato traced some of the symbols with his finger. "Singing Bird's prophecies have guided our spiritual practices since she arrived among us, Ouray. We have been preparing for her descendant's return, and now we see that it involves you directly."
The weight of this revelation settled over Ouray like a sacred garment he had not known he was meant to wear. His connection to Maya wasn't just personal—it was part of a spiritual tradition that had been unfolding for decades, a prophecy that involved the survival of his people's deepest knowledge.
"What does this mean for the communication method Maya discovered? Is it safe for me to continue responding to her calls?"
Elder Na-wa consulted a collection of sacred stones she had brought, studying the patterns they made when scattered on a piece of hide. "The method she uses—calling your consciousness to her time while you remain grounded here—this is what our ancestors would have called 'spirit speaking.' It was practiced by our people when they needed to communicate across great distances during times of war or separation."
"But never across time?"
"No, never across time. But the principles are the same. The key is maintaining your spiritual anchor to this place and time while allowing your consciousness to travel." Elder Na-wa gathered the stones and scattered them again, studying the new pattern. "With proper preparation and grounding techniques, this should be safe for you to practice regularly."
"What kind of preparation?"
Elder Wi-chi spoke up, his voice carrying the excitement of someone who had found a solution to a challenging problem. "We can teach you grounding rituals that will strengthen your connection to this time and place. Sacred objects that will serve as anchors, meditation practices that will allow you to respond to her calls without spiritual strain, protection ceremonies that will guard against other forces that might try to interfere with your communications."
"Other forces?"
"When two people communicate across such vast spiritual distances, they create... let us call it a beacon. Other spirits, both helpful and harmful, may be drawn to that energy. You will need protection against unwanted spiritual attention." Elder Na-wa's expression grew serious. "But more than that, you will need guidance as this connection deepens. The choice between times that you spoke of—this is not a decision to be made lightly or alone."
Elder Mato returned the carved bone to his bundle, but not before allowing Ouray to study the symbols more closely. "Chief Ouray, our ancestors foresaw this moment and left guidance for how to navigate it. But the final choice must be yours and hers, made with full understanding of what would be gained and lost."
"What does the prophecy say about that choice?"
"The prophecy is clear that Singing Bird's descendant will return to live among us. It is not a question of whether she will come, but when she will find the courage to cross between times." Elder Mato traced the symbols with his finger. "It says that when she arrives, she will bring gifts that help our people survive the changes coming to our lands, and that her love for one of our warriors will prove stronger than the boundaries between different eras."
"So both choices serve our people?"
"No, grandson. There is only one choice foretold. She will come to our time - the spirits have already set this path. The choice is not whether she comes, but how prepared we are to receive her, and how well we guide her transition from her world to ours." Elder Paa-chi leaned forward. "The prophecy also speaks clearly of the man who will love her across impossible distances. It says his role is not to convince her to come, but to be ready when she does."
Ouray felt the weight of responsibility settling over him like storm clouds gathering on the horizon. "What choice do I face?"
"Whether to remain a chief who guides his people through the immediate challenges of this time, or to become something new—a bridge between times, a keeper of traditions that will be needed in futures we cannot imagine." Elder Mato's ancient eyes held depths of understanding that seemed to encompass possibilities Ouray had never considered. "If Maya chooses to cross into our time, you would become more than just her husband. You would become the guardian of knowledge she brings from her world, the interpreter of visions that could help our people survive changes that have not yet come to pass."
The implications of what the elder was suggesting staggered Ouray. He had thought in terms of personal choice—love versus duty, spiritual calling versus tribal responsibility. But the prophecy suggested something far more complex: a destiny that involved serving his people in ways he had never imagined possible.
"How long do we have to make these choices?"
"The prophecy speaks of seasons of preparation before the final choosing," Elder Wi-chi replied. "Time for both of you to understand what you would be gaining and losing, time for us to prepare you for whichever path you choose, time for the spiritual forces involved to align properly."
"And in the meantime?"
"In the meantime, we teach you the grounding techniques that will allow you to communicate with Maya safely and regularly. We prepare you for the possibility of crossing between worlds, either spiritually or physically. And we help your people understand that their chief is facing challenges that go beyond ordinary leadership concerns." Elder Na-wa stood up, signaling that the formal part of the council was ending. "But first, we must ensure that your spiritual communications do not drain your strength or disconnect you from your responsibilities in this time."
The elders spent the next several hours teaching Ouray techniques that had been preserved in their spiritual traditions for generations. Meditation practices that would anchor his consciousness firmly to his own time and place. Sacred objects that would serve as spiritual tethers during communications across great distances. Protection rituals that would guard against unwanted spiritual interference.
"The key," Elder Wi-chi explained as he guided Ouray through a complex breathing technique, "is to remain more present in this time than in hers, even while your consciousness travels. Think of it as extending your awareness rather than relocating it."
They taught him to use specific stones as anchoring points, each one blessed according to ancient protocols and designed to keep his spirit grounded in his physical location. They showed him how to arrange sacred items in patterns that would protect against spiritual intrusion while maintaining openness to Maya's calls.
Most importantly, they taught him to recognize the signs of spiritual strain that would indicate he needed to end a communication session or take time to recover his strength.
"Your connection to this woman is powerful," Elder Na-wa explained as they concluded the training. "But power must be balanced with wisdom. Never attempt to communicate when you are tired, ill, or spiritually depleted. Never extend a session beyond what feels comfortable and natural. And always, always maintain your awareness of this lodge, this fire, this time and place where your physical body remains."
"How often can I safely respond to her calls?"
"That depends on the length and intensity of each communication. Short conversations, perhaps daily. Longer, deeper connections, perhaps every few days. But let your spirit guide you, and never ignore signs of fatigue or disconnection from this world."
As evening approached, the elders prepared to return to their own lodges, but Elder Mato remained behind for a private conversation with Ouray.
"There is something else you need to understand about the path opening before you," the ancient man said, his voice carrying the weight of prophecy. "The choice between times is not just about love, though love is the force that makes it possible. It is about serving the spiritual survival of our people in ways that transcend the immediate concerns of war and treaties and survival."
"I don't understand."
"The white soldiers will continue to come. The treaties will continue to be broken. Our people will face choices between fighting and dying, or submitting and losing everything that makes us who we are." Elder Mato's eyes held sadness for futures he could see clearly. "But there is a third path—preserving our spiritual knowledge, our stories, our essential nature through connections that transcend the immediate destruction."
"Through Maya?"
"Through the bridge you and Maya might become. If she crosses to our time, she brings knowledge of how our people's stories survive into her era. If you guide her in our ways, you ensure that the spiritual traditions she carries forward are authentic and complete." Elder Mato placed a weathered hand on Ouray's shoulder. "This is bigger than personal love, grandson. This is about ensuring that the soul of our people survives, no matter what happens to our physical communities."
"And if we choose differently? If Maya remains in her time and I remain in mine?"
"Then you serve by being the best leader you can be in this time, helping our people survive the immediate challenges ahead. And she serves by carrying the stories she has learned forward into her time, preserving them in ways that might not otherwise be possible." Elder Mato smiled sadly. "Both paths serve the larger purpose. But only one path involves the two of you serving it together."
After Elder Mato departed, Ouray sat alone in his lodge, contemplating everything he had learned. The spiritual techniques the elders had taught him made perfect sense, and he could feel their protective power settling around him like armor. The prophecy they had shared gave context to experiences that had felt overwhelming in their isolation.
But it was the weight of responsibility that affected him most profoundly. He had thought his choice involved love versus duty, personal happiness versus tribal obligations. Now he understood that both paths involved duty—the question was which form of service to his people would prove most valuable in the generations to come.
As he prepared for sleep, Ouray arranged the sacred anchoring stones around his sleeping area according to the elders' instructions. If Maya called to him tonight, he would be ready to respond safely, grounded in his own time but available to bridge the impossible distance between them.
The connection they shared was no longer just about their personal feelings for each other. It had become part of a prophecy that had been unfolding for generations, a spiritual force that might determine how his people's deepest knowledge survived into futures none of them could fully imagine.
But beneath the weight of prophecy and destiny, the simple truth remained: he loved her. Whatever cosmic purposes their connection might serve, whatever spiritual forces had brought them together across impossible distances, the foundation of everything was love that had refused to accept the boundaries of time.
As he drifted off to sleep, Ouray felt the sacred stones pulsing with protective energy around him, the anchoring techniques the elders had taught him already becoming second nature. Tomorrow, if Maya called to him, he would be ready to respond—not just as a man in love, but as someone prepared to serve purposes larger than either of them had initially understood.
The future remained uncertain, the choices ahead remained difficult, but for the first time since his spiritual journey had begun, Ouray felt he had the knowledge and support needed to navigate whatever lay ahead. His people understood what he was facing, his spiritual guides had given him the tools to proceed safely, and the prophecies of his ancestors had provided context for experiences that had seemed impossibly isolated.
Whatever came next, he would face it with the wisdom of his people behind him and the love of his heart calling him forward into possibilities that transcended every boundary he had once believed was fixed.