By the time they finally found a suitable place to camp for the night near a river at the base of the mountain, Ouray could barely remain upright. The spiritual attacks from Maya's increasingly desperate calls had continued throughout their difficult trek, each rejection sending fresh waves of agony through his skull while he tried to guide his people through treacherous terrain that tested every step.
The campsite was defensible but sparse—a small clearing beside a fast-moving stream that would provide fresh water and mask the sounds of their presence. No fires would be lit tonight; they would eat cold food and sleep in shifts, with warriors posted at intervals to watch for any sign of pursuit from the soldiers they'd managed to evade.
As the people settled into the uncomfortable routine of a camp made under dangerous circumstances, No-o-chi approached her grandson with the careful steps of someone who had been watching his deteriorating condition throughout the day. Her ancient eyes held deep concern as she took in his pale complexion and the way he occasionally pressed his hand to his temple as if fighting off invisible attackers that grew stronger with each passing hour.
Children who had been excited about the adventure that morning now clung to their mothers, sensing the tension that radiated from every adult. The dogs stayed close to their families instead of ranging through the area as they normally would, their instincts telling them this was not a safe place to explore. Even the horses seemed nervous, shifting restlessly despite their exhaustion from the steep climb.
"Grandson," No-o-chi said quietly, settling beside him on a fallen log where he sat staring at the rushing water. "You cannot continue like this. The spiritual calls are getting stronger, and your resistance is destroying you from within. I can see it in the way you move, the way you struggle to focus when people speak to you."
Ouray turned to look at his grandmother, seeing the wisdom and worry in her weathered features. Even in the growing darkness, her eyes held the sharp intelligence that had guided their family through countless crises over the decades. "I have no choice, Grandmother. My people need me focused on keeping them safe. I cannot abandon my duties for personal desires."
"For the woman who will be your wife?" No-o-chi interrupted gently but firmly. "For the one whose spirit has been calling to yours since you were old enough to understand the language of dreams? My grandson, you speak as if love and duty must always be enemies, as if caring for your heart means betraying your people."
"But how can I be with her when soldiers hunt us? How can I leave my consciousness unguarded when my people depend on my leadership to survive?" Ouray's voice carried the strain of someone fighting a battle on multiple fronts. "Every moment I spend in her world is a moment stolen from protecting the lives entrusted to me."
No-o-chi was quiet for a moment, listening to the sound of the stream and the quiet murmurs of their people settling for an uneasy night. When she spoke, her voice carried the weight of years and the wisdom of someone who had seen chiefs face impossible choices before.
"There is a sacred cave near the side of this mountain that has been used for spiritual communication for generations. It will anchor your spirit to this place while allowing your consciousness to reach across time." She studied his face in the dim light. "Take some of your most trusted warriors with you for protection. The camp has more than enough men to remain secure while you tend to this spiritual matter."
"Grandmother, I've already explained why I cannot—"
"Cannot what? Cannot learn to balance the duties of a chief with the needs of a husband?" No-o-chi's voice grew more pointed. "This is the perfect time to discover how to handle both responsibilities, not to choose one over the other. Do you think great leaders never face conflicts between their personal and public obligations?"
Ouray felt another wave of spiritual pain as Maya's voice echoed through his mind again, her desperation so clear it made his chest ache with answering anguish.
Something bad is happening there, isn't it? I can feel your fear, your worry about something terrible approaching. Ouray, please, I'm so scared and I don't understand what's happening to me. Please talk to me, I'm frightened.
"She can sense what's happening," he said through gritted teeth, his hands clenching into fists as he forced himself to reject her call once again. "She feels my fear about the soldiers, but she doesn't understand what's causing it. Her confusion and terror are feeding mine, creating a cycle that grows stronger each time I refuse to answer her."
"Then answer her," No-o-chi said simply. "Explain what's happening, calm her fears, show her that you're safe for now. Five minutes of honest communication will ease both your suffering more than hours of this spiritual warfare you're inflicting on yourselves."
"The spiritual anchoring stones—I should bring them?"
"Yes, and the sacred tobacco. The cave will provide the spiritual framework, but you'll need your own tools to maintain proper connection to this time." No-o-chi's expression grew more gentle but remained determined. "Grandson, you've spent your entire life learning to be a chief. Now you must learn to be a husband as well. The two roles are not enemies—they can strengthen each other if you allow them to."
He-ni approached from where he'd been checking on the posted sentries, immediately sensing the spiritual tension radiating from his brother. As Ouray's closest confidant and someone who had grown up hearing the tribal stories about spiritual communication, He-ni understood exactly what kind of help his chief needed.
"Brother, you need to speak with your woman," He-ni said without preamble. "I can see the spiritual strain is destroying you from within. The people need their chief at full strength, not fighting battles that weaken him."
"The route planning—"
"Can wait until you've handled this. We have more than enough warriors to keep the camp secure while you take care of spiritual matters." He-ni's tone was concerned but supportive. "How many men do you want with you? Six? Eight?"
"Six should be sufficient," Ouray replied, grateful for his brother's understanding. "Mato, Ka-ni-ache, and four others you trust completely."
"I'll gather them immediately. And brother?" He-ni placed a hand on Ouray's shoulder. "Take whatever time you need. We've escaped the immediate danger, and your spiritual health affects all of us. A chief who's fighting himself cannot protect his people effectively."
No-o-chi gave Ouray detailed directions to the sacred cave before the group departed. "Follow the narrow path that winds between those two large boulders," she instructed. "You'll know it by the spiritual energy that emanates from within. Inside, you'll find everything you need for safe spiritual travel. The warriors will ensure no physical threats disturb your work."
Ouray gathered his spiritual anchoring stones and sacred tobacco, tucking them into a leather pouch that he secured to his belt. These tools, blessed through years of use in ceremonies, would help him maintain proper connection to this time while his consciousness reached across impossible distances.
Within the requested time, He-ni had gathered Mato, Ka-ni-ache, and four other trusted warriors for the journey. All six warriors carried weapons and moved with the alert caution of men who understood they were protecting their chief during a vulnerable time, though they respected that the spiritual work he needed to accomplish was private.
The path was treacherous in the darkness, requiring careful placement of each step to avoid loose rocks that could send someone tumbling down the steep slope. But the warriors moved with the sure-footed confidence of men who had spent their lives navigating mountain terrain, and within a reasonable time they reached a cave entrance that seemed to glow with subtle inner light.
"This must be the place," He-ni said quietly, gesturing toward the opening that radiated spiritual energy even the least sensitive among them could feel. "We'll guard the entrance and keep watch. Do what you need to do, brother."
Ouray entered the cave, immediately feeling the change in atmosphere. The space was larger than it appeared from outside, with smooth walls that seemed to pulse with their own light. Ancient symbols covered the stone surfaces, and the air itself felt charged with spiritual energy that made his connection to Maya feel clearer and more manageable.
For the first time in hours, he allowed himself to stop fighting her calls. Instead of slamming shut the spiritual door between them, he opened it carefully, letting his consciousness reach across time to where she waited in desperate fear and confusion.
The connection formed immediately, stronger and clearer than any they'd shared before. Instead of the painful pulling sensation he'd been resisting all day, this felt natural and controlled—his awareness expanding to include her time while remaining firmly anchored in his own.
And there she was, sitting in that strange room with its impossible lights, tears streaming down her face as she clutched something that looked like a smaller version of his own sacred medallion. When she sensed his presence, her face transformed with relief so profound it made his chest ache with love.
"Ouray," she whispered, her voice carrying clearly across the centuries. "You're here. You're safe."
"I'm here, my woman," he replied, his spiritual voice warm with tenderness and relief. "I'm safe, and now I can finally explain what's been happening."
Without thinking, he reached out to touch her face, to wipe away the tears that he knew he had caused through his silence. His spiritual hand passed through her cheek like mist, but for a moment they both felt the warmth of contact, the echo of touch that transcended physical laws.
"I can't hold you," he said, his voice breaking with frustration and longing. "I want nothing more than to take you in my arms, to kiss away these tears, to comfort you the way a man should comfort his woman. But all I can offer you are words across this impossible distance."
Maya leaned into where his hand had been, as if she could still feel the ghost of his touch. "Your words are enough. Just knowing you're safe, hearing your voice—it's everything I needed."
"My beautiful Numa, I hate seeing you cry, knowing I am the cause of your tears. I've been fighting your calls all day because..." He paused, gathering his thoughts to explain something that challenged understanding. "White soldiers are hunting my people. We had to flee our village this morning, and I couldn't answer you because I needed every moment of my attention focused on getting my people to safety."
Understanding dawned in her eyes. "That's what I was sensing. Your fear, your worry. I could feel something terrible approaching, but I didn't know what it was."
"The connection between us goes both ways, my heart. Your spirit was trying to comfort me, to offer strength during a dangerous time, but I was too afraid to accept your help. I thought answering your calls would weaken me as a leader, but my grandmother showed me I was wrong."
"Your grandmother?"
"She made me understand that being your man doesn't make me less of a chief—it can make me stronger, if I learn to balance both roles instead of seeing them as enemies." Ouray's spiritual form moved closer to her, wishing desperately that he could provide the physical comfort she needed. "Maya, I need you to give me some time to get my people to the next camp site, somewhere safe where soldiers cannot follow. Can you be patient with me while I fulfill my duties to them?"
"Of course," she said immediately, though fresh tears started at the thought of separation. "How long?"
"A few days, perhaps a week. We have to travel through difficult mountain terrain, and we must move carefully to avoid being tracked." He reached toward her again, his hand stopping just short of her skin. "When my people are safe, when I can focus on you without guilt or distraction, I will come to you properly. We will have time to talk, to learn about each other, to build what we both feel growing between us."
"I'll wait," Maya said, her voice steady despite the tears. "I'll wait as long as you need me to. Just... promise me you'll be careful. Promise me you'll come back to me."
"I promise you, my beautiful woman. Nothing in this world or any other could keep me from returning to you." Ouray's voice carried absolute conviction. "You own my heart, Maya. You are my future, my destiny, my reason for believing that love can conquer any obstacle the spirits place before us."
She smiled through her tears, but then her expression grew more serious. "Don't ever do that again," she said firmly. "Don't shut me out like that when you're in danger."
"Maya, I was trying to protect—"
"I don't want to become a problem for you, but the feelings were so strong, and calling to you was the only way I knew how to comfort you." Her voice carried hurt beneath the understanding. "Why wouldn't you let me comfort you? You say I'm your woman and you love me, but..." She stopped talking, unable to finish the thought that clearly pained her.
Ouray felt the weight of her unspoken words—the doubt he had created by rejecting her attempts to help, the confusion about whether his love was real if he could push her away so completely when he needed support most.
"My heart, you could never be a problem to me. Never." His spiritual voice was urgent, desperate to repair the damage his silence had caused. "I refused your comfort because I'm still learning how to be both a chief and your man. I thought I had to choose between protecting you and protecting my people, but I was wrong."
"Were you protecting me, or were you protecting yourself from having to choose?" The question was quiet but sharp, cutting to the heart of his fears.
The honesty in her challenge made him pause. She was right—part of his resistance had been fear of having to prioritize between her needs and his people's safety. "Both," he admitted. "I was terrified that if I let myself lean on your strength, I might not be strong enough to carry my responsibilities alone."
"But that's what love is supposed to be—two people carrying burdens together, not one person shouldering everything while the other watches helplessly." Maya's eyes held both love and hurt. "If I'm truly your woman, then your troubles are my troubles. Your fears are my fears. You don't get to shut me out and call it protection."
"You're right," he said simply. "I was wrong to reject your comfort when you were trying to give me exactly what I needed. My grandmother had to teach me what you already understood—that love makes us stronger, not weaker."
"But if we're going to make this work, you have to trust me enough to let me help you carry whatever comes."
Maya's hand moved to her chest, pressing against her heart as her expression grew pained. "It hurts so much here," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I've never been in love before, and if this is how love feels... I'm not sure I want to be."
Ouray felt her words like a physical blow. The woman he loved was questioning whether their connection was worth the pain it brought, and he was the cause of that suffering.
"My heart, love isn't supposed to hurt like this. What you're feeling—that's the pain of separation, of uncertainty, of not knowing if the person you love will be there when you need them." His spiritual voice was gentle but urgent. "Real love, the kind we're meant to share, brings peace even in difficult times. It brings strength, not weakness."
"Then why does my chest feel like it's being torn apart? Why do I feel like I can't breathe when I can't reach you?" Tears streamed down her face as she spoke.
"Because I made you carry this burden alone instead of letting you share mine. Because I taught you that my love comes with conditions—that I'll be there for you only when it's convenient for my other responsibilities." Ouray's admission was painful but necessary. "That's not love, Maya. That's me failing to understand what it means to truly belong to someone."
"So what is love supposed to feel like?" she asked, her voice small and vulnerable.
"Like coming home. Like finding the missing piece of your soul. Like knowing that no matter what storms come, you'll face them together." His spiritual presence moved closer to her, wishing desperately he could hold her. "You should feel safe in my love, not afraid of being abandoned when trouble comes."
Maya looked at him through her tears, hope beginning to replace the hurt in her eyes. "Can you promise me that? Can you promise that your love won't always feel like this?"
"I promise you, Numa. When we're together properly, when there are no soldiers hunting my people and no impossible distances separating us, love will feel like the greatest gift the spirits have ever given us." His voice carried absolute conviction. "This pain you're feeling—we'll heal it together."
Maya wiped her tears, nodding slowly. "I want that. I want to learn how to love you properly."
"But first, I need you to understand something important," Ouray said, his tone becoming more serious. "Each time you call to me and I'm not able to respond, it hurts me too. The pain is so severe it makes me weak, unable to think clearly, unable to protect my people properly. Today, when the soldiers were chasing us and you were calling desperately, I nearly collapsed from the agony of rejecting your spiritual pull."
Maya's face went pale. "I didn't know. I thought... I thought it only hurt me when you didn't answer."
"Our connection works both ways, my heart. Your pain becomes mine, my struggles become yours. But when you call during dangerous times and I cannot respond, the spiritual feedback between us creates suffering for both of us that serves no purpose." Ouray's voice was gentle but firm. "I need you to learn patience. I need you to trust that my silence doesn't mean I've stopped loving you—sometimes it means I'm fighting to stay alive so I can return to you."
"How will I know when it's safe to call to you?" she asked, her voice small.
"Trust your instincts. When you feel peace from me instead of fear, when you sense calm instead of urgency, then you'll know I'm in a place where I can receive you properly." He paused, watching her process this difficult truth. "Maya, love between us cannot be built on demands or desperation. It must be built on understanding and patience. Can you give me that?"
She was quiet for a long moment, clearly struggling with the idea of restraining herself when every instinct told her to reach for him. "It's hard. When I feel your distress, every part of me wants to comfort you immediately."
"And that instinct shows how deeply you love me. But true love sometimes means waiting, even when waiting is painful. It means trusting that the person you love will come to you when they can, not when you demand it."
"And I love you, Numa, with a depth that grows stronger every day. When I return to you, I want to hear everything about your life, your world, your dreams for our future together. But for now, I must go back to my people. They're waiting for me to guide them to safety."
"Go," she said, though the word clearly cost her effort to speak. "Take care of your people. I'll be here when you're ready to come back to me."
As the spiritual connection began to fade, Ouray felt lighter than he had in days. The terrible cycle of pain and rejection had been broken, replaced by understanding and mutual support. Maya now knew why he couldn't answer her calls, and he knew she would wait patiently for his return.
"Until we meet again, carry my love with you," he whispered as his consciousness returned fully to the sacred cave.
"And you carry mine," came her fading reply.