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FAE WARRIOR

ASH FOREST SHIFTERS

LOLA GABRIEL
 Fae Warrior: Ash Forest Shifters
Text Copyright © 2021 by Lola Gabriel
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or
used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the
publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either
the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to
actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely
coincidental.

First printing, 2021

Publisher

Secret Woods Books

secretwoodsbooks@gmail.com
www.SecretWoodsBooks.com
 CONTENTS

Secret Woods Books

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Epilogue

Other Books You Will Love

Secret Woods Books
 SECRET WOODS BOOKS

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 1

S ambor’s screams echoed through the potions room as Beatrix

and Luna Hewitt struggled to tie him down onto the table with
long, sturdy straps.
It took the concerted effort of them both to wrangle him into a
position in which they could keep him still. He writhed and shrieked
with pain. Half of his face was covered in boils, which were growing
larger by the second. Some of them were popping open to ooze a
smelly green pus, only to have another one grow in its place
immediately after the previous one burst. His entire left side would
be covered in them if he hadn’t deflected most of the spell away, but
this was at the sacrifice of his face, which took the brunt of the
magic.
The spell set upon him was ancient and especially nasty. Beatrix
had warned him not to meddle in the affairs of the elves by himself,
especially those working with the dark arts. Sambor was a very
powerful warlock, but journeying into the darkest of elfin territory—
convinced that he could talk some sense into them and stop them
from opening the dragon portal—was not his best moment. His
judgment of the situation had been terribly poor, and his thinking on
the matter had been horribly mistaken. When he’d entered their
realm, they hadn’t given him a chance to speak. They had
immediately unleashed the firedrake, whose flames not only burned
but set boils upon its victims—painful boils that couldn’t heal without
the proper treatment.
At least this was the story that the half-conscious warlock had
told them when he’d passed out on the threshold of their video
store. That had happened right after Luna had mentioned it was a
quiet night and they had decided to give Goyle, their resident troll
guard, the evening off. The two of them half carried, half dragged
the sizeable, babbling man into the house and down the stairs to the
potions room. Luna and Beatrix had had to use their combined
magic to get him down the stairs without mishap.
Once he was secure, Beatrix had grabbed a bottle from the
nearby table. She’d hurriedly filled a syringe with a sparkling green
liquid and plunged the needle into Sambor’s arm. He had
immediately settled down as his eyes drooped with sleep, but the
boils kept appearing and soon filled the room with the smell of
rotting flesh.
“Grab the Magical Creatures book!” Beatrix said urgently to her
sister Luna. “I think the spell is in there.”
Luna rushed to the overflowing bookcase to search for the right
book. Beatrix started grabbing bottles from the shelf, guessing as to
what they might need to stop the spell from perpetuating the awful
smelling lesions.
“I got it!” yelled Luna, practically throwing the book open onto
the table. Because of her magic, it opened directly to the firedrake
page. “This looks complicated…” Beatrix heard anxiety in Luna’s
voice. “I hope we’re not too late!”
“Bring me the knotweed and the snapdragon seed pod,” Beatrix
instructed, staring at the counter spell, trying to decipher the
symbols as fast as possible. Once struck by the firedrake’s terrible
flame, a person could die within a few hours, even if only a small
patch of skin was affected. Beatrix didn’t know how long Sambor
had been afflicted, but she knew she had to translate the counter
spell as soon as she could.
“But it doesn’t call for that!” Luna said, taking the bottles down
anyway.
 “If I can’t stop the spell right away, those together with some
yarrow and a little white willow bark will soothe it a bit and possibly
slow it down,” Beatrix replied, concentrating on the archaic words in
the book. “Make a paste and place it on the affected area! I will try
to make this potion as quickly as I can!”
Beatrix stood by her sister as they worked. She was used to
tense situations, and it was a comfort to have Luna with her. This
was not the first time they’d treated someone with a serious magical
ailment, potions explosion, or symptoms from a spell gone wrong. It
was, however, the first time they’d ever treated damage from a
firedrake.
“Sambor, what were you thinking?” Beatrix quietly chided the
prone man as she searched the cupboards for the needed
ingredients.
The spell called for yellow dock for purifying the blood, a dash of
mandrake—though it was a dangerous herb that could render
Sambor unconscious for days if given too much for the pain—
goldenseal for the skin irritation, cinquefoil for the inflammation, a
teaspoon of powdered dragon placenta, and a cup of water brought
to a boil to bring it all together. Beatrix knew it was going to taste
horrid, so she reached down to the closest cabinet for some mint in
case he tried to throw it up.
They were almost out of the dragon placenta—it was very potent
stuff and hard to get, for obvious reasons. Hopeful, Beatrix opened
the bottle and let out a sigh.
“Just enough,” she said out loud to Luna, who nodded to her as
she applied the salve to the roiling wounds.
“Make it quick!” said Luna urgently. “I don’t know how helpful
this will be, and his skin is peeling along the sores.”
Beatrix moved briskly around the potion kitchen. She set the
water on the fire, ground the herbs together, and then added them
to the rapidly boiling pot. It turned the steaming water a bright
yellow, and the stringent aroma of the antidote burned Beatrix’s
nose. She stirred it and then removed it from the heat. Now for the
hardest part—despite the urgency, she had to wait for it to be
drinkable. She poured the potion into a wooden bowl to cool faster,
since ice would unfortunately ruin it because of the temperature
change.
Sambor started to moan in pain. The salve had only slightly
slowed the bubbling on his face. The floor underneath him was
covered in blood and fluids from the sores. From what Beatrix was
seeing before her, he only had a little bit of time left before he bled
out. She rushed over to the bowl; it was still too hot. Using her
magic, she cooled it as fast as she could and hoped that there would
be no damage to its potency. Luna used her slight body weight,
along with some magic, to sit Sambor up so Beatrix could pour the
liquid down his throat. He sputtered as he tried to spit out the vile
tasting liquid. Beatrix held his mouth shut.
“Sambor!” she shouted so he could hear her through his pain. “If
you don’t swallow all of this now, you will die!” He stopped fighting,
but he whimpered as he swallowed. As soon as it was all down, she
placed a mint leaf under his nose to stave off nausea. “Breathe
deep,” she commanded. He did so, and she laid him back onto the
table. His brow eased as the boils slowed and then finally stopped.
Luna grabbed a pillow and gently placed it under his head. She and
her sister sighed in relief at the sight.
“Should we untie him?” Luna asked.
“Not yet,” said Beatrix. “I don’t know how his body will fully react
to the potion. That wasn’t in the book. So, we must wait and try to
keep him comfortable.”
Beatrix and Luna sat together, watching Sambor as he slept.
Luna covered him with a blanket.
“Have you heard from Gabe and Fiona lately?” Luna asked.
“Since their wedding, they’ve been pretty silent out there in Seattle.”
Beatrix smiled at her sister.
“Fiona called when you were out yesterday. They’ve been rather
busy lately,” she said and winked.
“Oh!” Luna exclaimed. “Is she?”
“Yes!” Beatrix smile grew wider. “They are expecting. Gabe is
over the moon, of course, and Fiona is ecstatic. She’s always wanted
a family.”
 “Some people have all the luck,” said Luna, tossing her golden
hair. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m very happy for them. I just hope that
I get my turn one day.”
“Give yourself a bit of a break,” Beatrix told her. “You’re only
twenty-six. You have a long time.”
“Mother had already fallen in love with father. She was twenty-
two when she had you!” Luna pouted a bit. “I was hoping I’d find
someone by now.”
Beatrix looked at her sister with affection. “I’m sure you’ll find
someone soon enough. As for me, I’m happy on my own.”
She noticed the dubious look on Luna’s face and laughed
amicably. In her heart, however, Beatrix knew it wasn’t true. She did
want someone eventually, but she was afraid that she wouldn’t be
able to give him children. It was the one thing she wanted and the
one thing she was told she could never have.
She kept a smile plastered on her face as her thoughts went back
to the explosion that had occurred ten years ago, when she had
been called to a home where a little girl had been very sick. There
had been no doctors in the area who knew how to help. Her parents
were a couple of wolf shifters who knew of her from the store and
by word-of-mouth in the community. They had called her to come
and see if there was anything she could do for their daughter. The
girl’s fever had been over one-hundred and four, and they’d been at
the end of their wits. Beatrix had used several of her medicines and
a tepid bath with mint and lavender to bring the girl’s fever down.
Then she’d sent the girl’s mother to make a pot of hot water for the
special tea Beatrix had concocted for the girl to drink.
The woman lit the gas stove but then forgot about it in her
distress over her daughter’s illness. Beatrix remembered going down
to check on the water when the stove suddenly exploded and sent
parts of itself shooting through the air and into her abdomen. The
pain was excruciating, but it didn’t compare with the heartache that
followed when the doctor told her that the hot-metal shrapnel had
pierced both of her ovaries.
She never told anyone about the extent of the accident and its
lasting effects, not even her sister. Beatrix didn’t want to burden
Luna with that kind of news. She’d kept it a secret for all these
years, and there was no need to bring it up at this moment.
Sambor moaned and stirred on the table. Beatrix and Luna both
jumped to their feet. The boils and blood stopped seeping from his
wounds. The salve was holding parts of his face together. His
breathing was steady. Beatrix took his pulse and temperature; they
were both normal.
“I think we can bandage his face now,” she said confidently. “The
worst is over. He just needs to rest.” As Luna grabbed bandages
from the cupboard, Beatrix bent over Sambor and spoke to him
softly. “Sambor, can you hear me? Blink once if you can.” He blinked
one brown eye. “We are going to bandage your face. Are you in any
pain? Blink once for yes, twice for no.”
Sambor blinked twice; the salve was working.
Beatrix went into the cupboard and pulled out jars of valerian
root, white willow, and turmeric. She placed the kettle on to boil
again. This time, she was making a pain-relieving sleep aid tea so
Sambor could heal faster. Luna, an expert at dressing wounds,
quickly gauzed and bandaged Sambor’s face, leaving his good eye,
mouth, and nose uncovered.
Beatrix steeped her tea. The turmeric turned the color of the
water bright orange. She dashed in a drop of honey from their bees
on the property so it would taste pleasant. Pouring the thick liquid
into an earthenware mug, she set it on the counter and positioned
Sambor so he could comfortably drink it. He mumbled incoherently,
a nice change from his screaming, as she gently poured the aromatic
warm liquid slowly between his lips. He sighed. Beatrix’s elixir always
offered her clients instant relief. She had a special touch when it
came to herbs and teas. Her natural ability and closeness to the
Great Goddess and Mother Earth gave her an advantage in that
area.
“Thank you,” Sambor mumbled as his head lolled back into her
hands and his body relaxed. Beatrix settled him down and adjusted
the pillow under his head.
“We should move him upstairs to one of the bedrooms,” Beatrix
told her sister. “What are the chances that we can get Goyle to come
back for an hour if we give him tomorrow off?”
“I’ll call him,” said Luna, washing her hands. “I’m sure he will
understand.”
“I hope his wife will understand,” said Beatrix with a slight smile.
Goyle’s wife was a lovely troll but not someone to trifle with.
Just then, a loud ripping noise, like someone tearing paper from
a book, interrupted the brief silence between them. An old, yellowed
scroll made of ancient parchment dropped from the top shelf of one
of the dustier bookcases in the corner. It flew unnaturally across the
room and almost hit Beatrix in the head. When it landed on the floor,
it rolled open to reveal scrawling handwriting that covered the
entirety of the long scroll.
Beatrix and Luna stood, unable to move. Something held them
there, like witnesses, as time stopped all around them. The scroll
then floated up into the air in front of them. The words lit up as if on
fire while a disembodied male voice spoke with a soothing tone:
The time has come for the Fae to unite with the Wizardry.
Through forest glen and o’er the sea, the heart affair is plain to
see.
If they entwine their lives to each, then harmony is within reach.
Reluctantly, the love grows real, and everything it shall reveal.
The issue of the union brings balance for the Queens and Kings.
Even though it seemed that there was more, a loud knock at the
door disrupted its rhythm, and the scroll fell unceremoniously to the
floor and rolled to Beatrix’s feet. She picked it up as Goyle and Abby,
their maid, entered the room.
“I took the liberty of calling Goyle,” said Abby, rolling in a mop
and bucket. She clicked her tongue when she spied the mess on the
floor. “You could have called me to help, you know.”
“Sorry,” said Beatrix. “There wasn’t much time. We had to
administer the potion before we lost him.”
Abby nodded. “I saw you two carrying him through the house, so
I called Goyle. I figured you might need a little assistance.”
“Thank you, Abby,” said Luna. “You always seem to know when
we are in need. And thank you, Goyle, for coming on your time off.
We will make it up to you tomorrow.”
 The large troll smiled at all of them. “Elda would like that. Our
picnic with the children got rained out today, so I am happy to take
off tomorrow. It should be better weather.”
Beatrix sighed in relief as Goyle carefully lifted Sambor off the
table.
“What would we do without you two?” she asked, falling back
into the chair by the counter with the scroll still in hand.
“Well, I guess you don’t have to wonder that right now, do you?”
responded Abby good naturedly. Then she eyed Beatrix and Luna
with an appraising gaze. “You two look haggard. Go upstairs and
have a bowl of potato soup. I whipped it up special. It’s perfect for a
cold, rainy day like today. Then go and get some rest. Goyle and I
will take care of this young man and the cleanup. You’ve both done
enough for one day.”
Gratefully, Beatrix stood up and took the scroll with her. She
glanced in the mirror hanging from the opposite wall. She looked
extremely tired—her long, dark hair was a complete mess, her braid
was almost nonexistent, there were dark circles under her violet
eyes, and the hollows of her cheekbones were a little more
pronounced than usual. She couldn’t remember if she had even
eaten anything today. She glanced at the scroll in her hand. Beatrix
knew she would need to study it more and try to make out the
words it didn’t say. But first, Abby was right; she needed food and
sleep. She would stare at this thing tomorrow. She’d had enough for
one day.
 2

C lyde Jacobsen stood in the middle of his family’s wooded

property in Ash Forest, Maine and appraised the sheer
density of the woods. He didn’t want to be there. He’d rather
be home just outside of London at his family’s ancestral castle
enjoying the grounds he had always loved so much throughout his
life. Instead, he was standing in the middle of Nowhere, America. He
was the King of the Fae in England, but he was stuck coming to this
place because of one person—Amelia Ainslie.
Amelia, who just happened to be the daughter of the powerful
Angus Ainslie, whose family had claimed the fairylands of Scotland
for their own hundreds of years ago.
Frankly, Clyde didn’t want the girl. She was nice and all, and very
easy on the eyes, with rare blonde hair and green eyes, but she was
not his type. She didn’t stimulate his mind or any other parts of him,
for that matter. Their betrothal had been made when they were both
infants to unite the two fairy kingdoms, to strengthen their alliance,
and to prevent any future warfare between them. However, when
they had come of age, neither one of them had wanted the other.
Their relationship was lukewarm at best. They only ever spent time
together at official functions and never made any effort to talk about
anything other than the affairs of their kingdoms. When Clyde did try
to be romantic towards her a few times, his attentions had always
been ignored or met with mild discouragement.
 Clyde could not see himself living his incredibly long life with
such a tepid, boring woman. For years, he’d thought about how to
break off the engagement without initiating a war, and the
opportunity had finally come one night when his younger brother,
Connor, confessed to him in a drunken stupor that he was deeply in
love with her, and he had every reason to believe that she loved him,
too.
So, Clyde had gracefully bowed out and made the excuse that he
must go to see his lands in America. He planned to stay for as long
as it took his brother to ‘steal her away from him’ and convince her
parents that Connor would offer as much, if not more, than King
Clyde.
He smiled at his devious plan. Not even his brother realized he
was being used as a pawn in Clyde’s attempt to escape from the
toils of marriage. He planned to return after his spies reported that
the two of them were caught in the act, or, better yet, that Amelia
was pregnant. Then, he would “reluctantly” forgive them both,
release her from her betrothal to him, reclaim his throne, pay for
their extravagant wedding, and rule the English fae free of
obligation. It all sounded perfect in his mind.
What he hadn’t considered was that his flight from England to
Maine would be the worst he’d ever experienced. He’d never liked
Americans. He found them boorish and dull, but the flight crew had
been exceptionally dim-witted when it came to service. He’d flown
first class, only to be in back of an arguing couple and in front of a
woman who wouldn’t stop placing her feet in the gap between the
seats right next to his head.
After asking politely several times for her not to do that, and the
flight attendants not caring about his discomfort at having a smelly
foot near his face, he’d cast a little magic on her. He’d caused her
foot to itch so badly, that for the rest of the flight, she’d curled it up
next to herself so she could scratch it constantly. He’d smiled when
she had complained to the flight attendants, who had only shrugged
and handed her an ice pack. Meanwhile, he had enjoyed the rest of
his flight with a drink and noise canceling headphones, free of feet
near him.
 Clyde appraised the vastness of the Jacobsen lands. Today, he’d
walked and flown—when he had felt it was safe—within five of the
over ten square miles of untouched woodland that he owned. Many
of the trees were massive in size, as they were well over two
hundred years old. His family had owned this property since before
the American Revolution. He was unsure why they had bought it
without ever developing any of it, but it was still rather impressive.
He had spent the day searching for the perfect spot to start building
a manor house, and right now, he felt like he was standing in just
the right place.
He was in a large field full of wildflowers. The land was flat and
solid enough to build on. A small stream flowed roughly two hundred
yards away, so there was no worry of flooding when it rained. The
air was fresh and clean, much purer than the air in London. He’d
gotten so used to the smell of car exhaust and air pollution that this
place was a bit of a shock to his senses. He stood silent and still for
a long time, just feeling the environment and taking in the calm
energy all around him.
A rabbit hopped over to investigate his presence there. Suddenly,
he felt like he was being watched. He looked around and caught a
gray wolf off in the distance staring at him. It stayed there for
several minutes, as if trying to determine if Clyde was a friend or a
foe.
“Nothing to worry about, my friend,” Clyde projected onto the
wolf’s mind. “I mean you and your family no harm.”
They locked eyes for a moment, then the wolf nodded and loped
away. It was wild out here, and Clyde felt like that was exactly what
he needed after the hustle and bustle of city life. It would take a lot
of work to make it livable, but Clyde felt ready for this challenge.
Anything was better than having to deal with a betrothal he had
absolutely no desire for.
The sun was just starting to fall below the horizon, and there was
a chill in the dusky air. Clyde turned back toward town, a little sad
that he had to leave that perfect patch of grass. With no housing on
the property, Clyde had decided to check into the local bed and
breakfast down the road. It was an old, white Victorian-style house
where the disappearance of the previous owner a few years ago was
now a town legend. The prices were so cheap that he didn’t expect
the place to be as nice as it was, so he had booked the master suite
on the second floor. It wasn’t bad for a small town, but it wasn’t
home.
Hungry, Clyde settled for dinner at a nearby diner down the road.
Clyde retracted his wings to nothing but tiny protrusions from his
shoulder blades and covered them with a sweatshirt before he
entered the low-ceilinged restaurant. It wasn’t anything like the
places he’d been to in London. This place was small and smelled of
long forgotten French fries. The menu offered an array of fried
seafood, along with lobster rolls, oysters, baked fish, and one lonely
mention of a prime rib.
Clyde could feel that the locals around him noticed his
appearance. He definitely did not look like one of them. He was a
stranger in a small town, and it was only a matter of time before
someone would question him. He sat in his booth, hunched over and
staring at his cell phone. He wondered if he’d made a mistake
coming in here when the diner seemed to hush all around him. It
wasn’t too long before he heard someone clear their throat right
next to him. He looked up to see a tall man with brown hair and
brown inquisitive eyes standing with his hat in his hand.
“Excuse me,” the man said politely. “My name is Stephen Benson.
I’m the chief of the forest rangers here in Ash Forest. I was
wondering if we could have a quick word?”
Clyde looked him up and down and then glanced at the patrons
seated in the tables and booths around him. He could tell they were
all listening and yet pretending they weren’t.
“Of course,” he said through clenched teeth. “I’m very happy to
meet a new friend. I’m guessing you figured out I’m new in town.”
“Yes,” said Stephen, looking around the room. Everyone suddenly
seemed very absorbed with their menus or phones. “I realize you
might not know your way around the town or forest trails, but I was
doing my rounds earlier today and noticed you on the Jacobsen
lands. Many newcomers make the same mistake, but I do have to let
you know that those are privately owned, and you were trespassing.”
 For a moment, Clyde stared at this park ranger who obviously
didn’t know who he was. He tried to stop himself, but he couldn’t
help the roar of laughter that burst from his mouth, rendering him
speechless for several moments. The sound of his mirth echoed
through the cramped walls of the diner. He knew everyone was now
openly staring at him, but he didn’t care anymore. These people
would be talking behind his back anyway, so he might as well get it
over with.
When Clyde was able to regain his composure, he took a long
drink of his ice water. He smirked before telling Stephen, “Yes, I
know who owns the land. In fact, I will be happy to introduce him to
you.”
Clyde stood up from his seat, holding out his hand for Stephen to
shake. “Hello, my name is Clyde Jacobsen, owner of the Jacobsen
lands. I am pleased to make your acquaintance and appreciate your
diligence in protecting what is mine.”
He took some pleasure in seeing Stephen’s shocked expression.
“No one from your family has visited these lands for as long as
they’ve owned them.” Stephen looked at him and then smiled. “I’m
really glad to finally meet a member of the family that helped start
this town.” Now it was time for Clyde to feel shocked.
“What do you mean?” he asked, confused, wondering if Stephen
was trying to get one up on him.
“Your family’s purchase of those lands paid for the town to be
built here. I don’t know if you’ve ever read the deed, but your
ancestors also financed the forest rangers. We still receive money
from your family every year for the upkeep and security of your
lands,” Stephen continued. “Anyway, the lands are logged every now
and then, and your family donates part of the money to the town as
well. That’s how we restored the town hall last year. Did you know
about that?”
“I do not handle the details of my accounts—I have people for
that,” Clyde replied.
“So, no one in your family told you anything about the property?”
Clyde felt embarrassed. His father had never explained why they
owned the lands or what their relationship to the town was. He’d
simply told him they owned it, and it would be nice to visit one day.
“You have the advantage, my friend,” Clyde said. “I hope that
you will be able to take the time to educate me on what I really own
here.”
“Gladly,” Stephen replied, handing Clyde his card. “Call me
tomorrow, and I will show you around the town.” He leaned into
Clyde, lowering his voice to be just audible enough for him to hear.
“There are also many places around this town that will interest you;
places for people like us.”
“Like us?” asked Clyde just as softly, feeling called out. “What do
you mean?”
“I saw you in the woods. You told me that you meant me no
harm, and I wish to say the same to you.”
His meaning hit Clyde right in the chest. Stephen Benson, head
of the park rangers, was a wolf shifter, and he knew that Clyde was
a fae.
“I think we can be friends,” said Stephen, standing up while
fixing his hat on his head. “Welcome to our town. I hope that you
will find what it is that you are looking for.”
With that, Stephen walked out of the diner, leaving Clyde staring
after him confusedly. This place was not what he’d thought it was.
He was intrigued and ready to learn more.
 3

B eatrix stared at the spell book until her eyes grew tired and
her vision was fuzzy. She’d been at it all day, attempting to
get the scroll to finish speaking the words of the prophecy.
However, it seemed that no matter how hard she tried, something
kept interrupting her spell.
She put her head in her hands and rested her eyes to give her
vision time to clear. Maybe she just needed rest. Perhaps it was the
excitement from yesterday that had worn her out. Normally, she
could work several days in a row without sleep. But now, something
was draining her, and she didn’t understand what it was.
Abby came in with a tea tray. She set two cups and a plate of
lemon cookies down in front of Beatrix.
“I thought you’d like some refreshment,” the maid said, smiling
kindly as she poured the tea. “And maybe a little company.”
“I’d like that.” Beatrix took a seat and accepted the steaming cup
between her hands. She inhaled the soothing aroma of lavender. Oh,
this was her favorite, and Abby knew that.
“How goes the scroll deciphering?” asked Abby, selecting a
cookie as she lifted her own cup to her lips.
“Slow,” Beatrix answered. Her frustration began to ease with
every sip of her hot tea. “I needed this, thank you.”
“You work too hard,” said Abby. “After yesterday’s events, you
should take a day off.”
 “I wish I could,” sighed Beatrix. “But this scroll waited a long time
to make its presence known. I need to know why it revealed itself
now and why it’s not finishing the prophecy.”
“Maybe it’s not ready yet,” Abby pointed out. “Maybe it’s waiting
for the right time again.”
“Perhaps,” Beatrix said. “I feel like something is blocking me. It’s
like there’s some magic somewhere that’s keeping me from finding
what I’m looking for. Every time I reach the middle of the finding
spell, my eyes go blurry and I can’t see the words.”
“Maybe you simply need some sleep?” Abby bit into another
cookie. “You’ve been burning the candle at both ends lately.”
“I will sleep after I figure all of this out,” Beatrix promised. “I
really think that someone or something is impeding my ability to
read this spell.”
“Have you tried a locator spell?” asked Abby. “That way you can
seek out the source of the scroll. That could shed some light on the
purpose of the scroll. It could be worth a try.”
“You’re right…” Beatrix put down her cup and stood up. “Why
didn’t I think about that?” She searched the shelves until she found
the large green tome she was looking for. “This spell book has been
in the Hewitt family for centuries,” said Beatrix, tracing the gold
lettering with some pride. “It goes all the way back past the
Revolutionary War to when our family first moved here.” She opened
the book carefully and turned the fragile pages with reverence.
“Here it is!” Beatrix moved her finger down the page. “This spell
is a bit complicated and calls for a lot of ingredients, but I think I
have everything.” She rifled through the cupboards, looking for the
different bottles that contained everything listed in the spell. When
she finished, she grabbed a portable beaker to carry the potion with
her when it was done.
Forty-five minutes later, Beatrix’s pot steamed, and the spell was
finally ready.
“Fetch me my coat, Abby, please,” she said as she ladled the spell
potion into the large empty bottle. “I have a feeling I will be walking
a while, and it’s getting cooler in the evenings.”
“How do you know it’s far?” asked Abby, heading for the door.
 “The steam is white and flowing toward the forest.” Beatrix
pointed her finger in the direction of the vapor. “The lighter the
steam, the farther I’ll have to go. I’ll need my boots, too, it’s rained
all week. Hopefully, it will hold off this evening.”
As Abby hurried to do Beatrix’s bidding, Beatrix finished the spell
by blowing the steam higher into the air. It definitively pointed its
misty tendrils towards the forest.
Who are you? she thought. And what are you doing in my forest?
Beatrix carried the potion upstairs. She met Abby at the back
door, which faced into the forest.
“Here’s your coat and your boots,” said the maid, helping Beatrix
put them on without spilling the potion. “I also packed you a little
something to eat and drink, just in case.”
“Thank you, Abby,” said Beatrix. “Please let Luna know what I am
doing. Tell her not to worry and that I will be back within a few
hours.”
“If you’re sure…” Abby looked skeptical. “I could always call
Goyle.”
“No.” Beatrix shook her head. “We promised today would be his
day off. I can handle this on my own. Besides, I don’t want to deal
with his wife if she gets angry because I called him away from family
time.”
“You’re right; no one wants that,” said Abby, wide-eyed and
bobbing her head in agreement. “I’ll make sure Luna is aware.”
“Thank you,” Beatrix said. Then she headed out the door.
The steam flowed from the beaker in Beatrix’s hands and led her
into the heart of the forest. She’d been back here several times, but
only to perform the natural rites of the passing seasons or to gather
herbs that grew wild within the woods. She’d never gone back into
this part to follow a magic trail. No one, magic or non-magic,
frequented this part of the forest. It was Jacobsen land, owned by
the elusive, original founders of the town.
The smoke grew darker the further Beatrix went into the center
of the forest. She wrapped her coat a little tighter around her. She
felt something tickle the back of her neck, and all her senses stood
on edge. Something broke in the distance—like someone was
splitting wood—then there was a woosh and crackling, like a large
tree coming down and hitting the forest floor. Beatrix ran toward the
noise. No one was supposed to be logging that area this year.
The smoke grew darker and darker as Beatrix ran faster and
faster until, finally, it swirled around her head. When the smoke
paused for a moment, it was black as night before darting towards a
large, shirtless man with huge golden wings protruding from his
back.
Beatrix held her breath for a moment. She looked at him for a
long moment, taking in the perfection in front of her—his dark hair
brought out the intensity of his blue eyes, he had flawless bronze
skin, and she couldn’t stop staring at the way that his pronounced
arm muscles continued to sculpted shoulders and on down to his
perfectly formed abs, which tapered to very firm-looking buttocks
perfectly shaped in his jeans. His hands glowed slightly, as if he’d
just performed magic. Beatrix tried to make sense of what she was
seeing. Finally, she noticed there were others around him: fairies of
all shapes and sizes, men and women, working and building a
massive, wooden structure.
Beatrix took a step back to regain her composure. She opened
her mouth to speak, but the muscular fae spoke first.
“Well, hello there.” He looked at her in a way that made Beatrix a
little self-conscious. She tried to tuck her dark long hair behind her
ears. “It seems you’ve taken a wrong turn,” he said condescendingly.
“The town is back that way, so I suggest you leave and forget what
you just saw.”
Beatrix noticed his hands glowing a vibrant blue, and she realized
what he was about to do. Dropping the beaker, she raised her hands
over her head to deflect his forgetting magic right before it hit her
square in the face. She dove and rolled out of the way as the orb of
light barely missed her and instead hit a nearby stump, setting it
briefly on fire. Beatrix hurriedly sat up, with her arms once again
ready to deflect.
Instead of attacking a second time, the large fairy gazed at her
intently. She could see his jaw working as he decided what to do.
Then, as if he’d lost a fight within himself, he sighed, walked over to
her, and extended his hand.
“I’m sorry,” he said apologetically. “Please allow me to help you
up.”
“I can get up on my own, thank you very much!” exclaimed
Beatrix. She quickly regained her feet and brushed the mud from her
coat, pulling a couple of twigs from her hair. “I’d prefer you stay far
away from me right now. I don’t appreciate anyone trying to zap my
memories. It’s not very polite.”
The handsome fairy backed away.
“As you wish,” he said gently with his hands out in supplication.
“In my defense, I thought you were…a human trespasser.”
“Me? A trespasser?” responded Beatrix indignantly. “It is you who
are trespassing! These are Jacobsen lands, and obviously, you are
breaking the law by being here.”
She could not believe her ears when the fae opened his mouth
wide and laughed at her. He had the nerve to treat her so on lands
that he did not belong on.
“I will let the park ranger know what you are doing, and he will
stop you!”
Beatrix turned to stalk away from the interloper as fast as she
could until a giant gray wolf loped up beside her. She watched
Stephen Benson shift back into his human, park ranger form. He
tipped his hat to her and smiled.
“Nice evening, isn’t it?” he asked, as if nothing out of the
ordinary was going on behind her.
“Stephen?” Beatrix asked, confused and irritated. “What is going
on here?”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, Beatrix. That man there is
Clyde Jacobsen. He is the owner of this part of the forest.”
“Do you mean to tell me that this fairy is a Jacobsen?” she
demanded in disbelief.
“That is exactly what I am telling you, and he’s planning on
staying. He brought over a whole team of his people to work on his
new estate.” Stephen motioned at all the fairies working on the
rapidly emerging estate house.
 Beatrix defensively folded her arms over her chest. “Well, his
magic is interfering with my ability to work. Can you please tell him
to tone it down a bit?”
“You can tell him that yourself,” responded Stephen with wry
amusement.
“Tell me what?” asked the handsome and annoying fairy. As he
approached, his eyes once again pierced right into Beatrix’s
composure.
“I need you to please tone down your magic,” Beatrix snapped,
not liking the way her body was reacting to him. “I cannot perform
my magic with all the fairy dust floating into my section of the
woods.”
“I see,” he said, tapping his chin. “I will do my best. I have a
large crew here helping me build my home. We should be done in a
couple of months.”
“A couple of months!” she exclaimed. “Are you kidding me? I
have work to do and less than ‘a couple of months’ to finish it.”
“I’m sure we can figure something out.” He smiled a bright,
genuine smile, which diffused some of Beatrix’s anger. “I’m Clyde
Jacobsen,” he said, extending his hand.
“Beatrix Hewitt,” she replied reluctantly, shaking his hand in
return. Without warning, Clyde took her hand in both of his and
brought it to his lips to kiss it lightly. Beatrix shivered with a shock of
very unexpected desire. Quickly, she reclaimed her hand from his
grasp and plunged it into the pocket of her coat. This was not the
time to have this sort of feeling for a stranger who was destroying
the forest.
“I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance,” Clyde said, not
even noticing her reaction to his touch.
“Charmed, I’m sure,” Beatrix said in return. “Now, if you would
please stop putting so much magic and fairy dust in the air, I have
important work to do.”
Turning away from the intolerable fairy and his workers, Beatrix
found her abandoned beaker and stalked off towards her home. She
could tell that this Clyde was toying with her and in no way would
stop what he was doing. He did not care one bit about what she
needed to do. He was obviously one of those men who only thought
of himself and not the welfare of others.
Beatrix would have to come up with a new tactic to get him to
listen to her. She needed time and space to think.
 4

C lyde stared after the beautiful and entrancing woman as she

marched her way through the forest and out of sight—her
long, dark hair floated behind her, and the peacoat she wore
just brushed the top of her rounded bottom and swayed invitingly
along with her steps. With his very first glance of her shocking violet
eyes, he knew that she would be trouble for him. He could tell just
by the look in her eyes that she was powerful, and stubborn, and
probably would be back to torment him again.
Clyde was surprised to discover that he was looking forward to it.
He was also going to enjoy annoying this woman for a while, but in
order to do that, he needed more information.
He found Stephen overseeing the felling of a large tree just along
the outskirts of the valley.
“What can you tell me about the Hewitt woman?” asked Clyde,
walking up to Stephen. “She seems to know this place pretty well.”
“She should,” said Stephen, turning his eyes on Clyde. “Her
family has been here almost as long as your family has owned this
land. Her home and business are just outside your boundary, about
a half a mile that way.” He pointed in the direction where Beatrix
came and went from.
“Obviously, she possesses some magic,” Clyde pried. “What is she
exactly?”
 “Interested, are we?” asked Stephen, raising one eyebrow in
amusement.
“No.” Clyde shrugged nonchalantly. “Just curious. Her deflection
spell was pretty amazing.”
“She’s one of the best of them,” said Stephen. “Witches, I mean.
She comes from a very long line of powerful witches and warlocks.
She owns the family business now, along with her sister.”
“What is the family business?” asked Clyde lightly, though he felt
even more intrigued now.
Stephen sighed. “I meant to take you there when you first came
into town, but with all of this going on…” He motioned to the trees
falling around them. “Anyway, they own a rather specialized store.
She and her sister also help our kind with any magical injuries and
ailments. They are both very talented at spells and potions.”
“I see,” said Clyde. “I’d like to visit their shop. I might need a few
things.”
Stephen eyed him speculatively.
“Just so you know, if you make Beatrix an enemy, I will have
nothing to do with you anymore. Frankly, that woman scares me.
She’s a rare beauty, but I wouldn’t ever want to get on her bad side.
She won’t do anything to kill or harm you physically, but mentally…”
He shivered. “I’ve seen her make the largest troll I’ve ever seen in
my life cry and run away. Mark my words, she is not to be trifled
with.”
“Okay, I understand,” said Clyde casually. “When can we go see
her?”
“You are unbelievable,” said Stephen, exasperated. “Come to
think of it, I do have a few things I need to pick up at her store. We
can go tomorrow. Just don’t make her mad, okay? There’s no telling
what she might do.”
“Cross my heart.” Clyde smiled. He knew exactly what he planned
to do.
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
Anjoemara. Groote vischsoort (Hoplias macrophthalmus = Macrodon
aimara), die in de Midden- en Boven-rivieren en hare zijstroompjes van
G. veel voorkomt, en wier vleesch zeer smakelijk is. Behalve met den
hengel en met springlijnen, wordt de A. meestal met zg. springmanden
(Z. a.) gevangen.

Anona. Plantengeslacht der Anonaceën, waartoe de zuurzak (A.

muricata L.) behoort, die van stekelige wratten voorziene, zeer saprijke
vruchten heeft, en de schopappel (A. squamosa L.), wier gladde
vruchten, van de grootte van een appel, eveneens gegeten worden.

Apoetoe. Knots, strijdbijl der I., gemaakt uit het zware en harde
ijzerhout en het fraaie letterhout. De Apoetoe wordt tegenwoordig nog
slechts bij feesten en dansen gebruikt.

Arend. De zg. Harpi (Thrasaëtus harpyia L.) is een der zeldzaamste

roofvogels van Guyana’s binnenland, en tevens de grootste. Hij voedt
zich hoofdzakelijk met brulapen en luiaards. De I. houden hem tam,
ten einde zich op gemakkelijke manier de veeren voor hunne pijlen en
hoofdtooi te verschaffen. Twee maal p. jaar worden de veeren, die een
belangrijk ruilartikel zijn, aan het tamme dier ontnomen. De vrouwen
zorgen voor de voedering en dragen het dier met zich meê, als de I.
hetzij tijdelijk, hetzij voor altijd een verblijf verlaten. De bezitter van een
levenden Harpi is bij de I. zeer in aanzien.

Armadil. Naam voor het gordeldier, meer in het bijzonder van een
groote soort (Priodontes giganteus). Het schild van de gewone soort,
die als alle Gordeldieren in eigengegraven holen, meest op
zandterreinen huist, wordt in de I.-hutten vaak gezien. In S. heet het
gordeldier schildvarken, in het N.E. kapasì.

Awari. Buidelrat. Verschillende soorten van het tot de

Roofbuideldieren behoorend geslacht Didelphis, dat tot Amerika
beperkt is, komen in G. voor, en zijn gevreesde kippendieven. Zie ook:
Boschrat. Onder Awari verstaat men ook een spel, dat groote
overeenkomst heeft met het Dakonspel op Java. Dit spel, dat met het
Awari-bord (Awari-bángi) gespeeld wordt en een groot
verspreidingsgebied heeft, moet door de negerslaven uit Afrika naar
W.-I. zijn overgebracht. Zelfs de B. spelen het. (C.a.)

Azéman. Heks, die volgens het geloof der negers des nachts in
lichtenden gloed rondwaart, om menschen bloed uit te zuigen. Het volk
gelooft, dat de vampier (Z. a.) een doode is, die ’s nachts zijn graf
verlaat, om den levenden bloed uit te zuigen. De Azéman kan allerlei
vormen aannemen en door kleine openingen binnendringen.

[Inhoud]

B.

Baboen. N.E. voor Brulaap (Mycetes seniculus). De C. noemen deze

schreeuwer der wouden van G. Aloeatta, de A. Atoeli. Het vervaarlijk
gebrul, dat de baboen, vooral in het vroege morgenuur, laat hooren,
wordt teweeggebracht door een zakvormige holte aan het
strottenhoofd, die gesteund [398]wordt door een balonvormige
uitbreiding van het tongbeen. Het oude mannetje, dat het gebrul inleidt
en aanvoert, noemen de N. de dominee. (Zie C. b., waar een afb. van
deze klankbodem voorkomt).

Baboenland. De voorstelling, die in No. 11 van de I.-serie door deze

voortreffelijke natuurwaarnemers van het Baboenland hoog in de
boomen van het oerwoud, gegeven wordt, is begrijpelijk voor wien het
familieleven van een troep brulapen op een hoogen boom aan den
oever van een der Surinaamsche rivieren heeft mogen gadeslaan (C.
b.).
Bacove. Zie bij Banaan.

Bactris. Geslacht van Palmen, waarvan de stam met lange,

gemakkelijk loslatende stekels bedekt is. B. minax, Miq., de Kiskissi
makà der N., heeft blauwzwarte vruchten, die gegeten worden.

Bajadoe. A. naam voor duizendpoot (Z. a.).

Bakkeljauw. Amerikaansche gedroogde visch.

Bakróe. Soort geest, die gezegd wordt in een dwerg te huizen. Deze
kan ook den vorm van dieren aannemen en tijdelijk in levenlooze
voorwerpen zijn verblijf opslaan. De bakróe, waaraan ziekten en
allerlei ongemakken toegeschreven worden, kan, zoo gelooft men,
alleen door de Wisiman (Z. a.) uitgedreven worden. De Bakróe neemt
in het neger-bijgeloof een belangrijke plaats in. (Zie verder:
Encyclopedie v. W. I. en P. b.).

Banab. Tijdelijke hut, die de I. bouwen tot bescherming gedurende den

nacht.

Banaan of Pisang, is een var. v. Musa paradisiaca. De vrucht heeft

een hoog zetmeelgehalte en vertoont vele variaties, die met bepaalde
namen worden aangeduid. De I. planten op hunne kostgronden
bananen aan; hun gerecht, dat tom-tom heet, wordt uit bananen
bereid.

Bananenbek. Het geslacht Cassicus telt onder de vogelfauna van G.

meerdere soorten, die verwant zijn aan de prachtig gekleurde
troepialen, en door zijn voorkomen in groote troepen er onze
spreeuwen vervangen. De meest bekende is C. decumanus, wier
buidelvormige nesten bij menigte aan de boomen hangen.

Banja. Negerdans, waarbij eertijds het Afrikaansche snareninstrument,

de kwakwabanja begeleidde. Oorspronkelijk had deze dans een
godsdienstig karakter (vereering der voorouders); alle deelen van het
lichaam doen daarbij meê, en volgen de muziek, hoe snel het tempo
ook is. (C. a., bij den dans der B.).

Barbakotten is het drogen, rooken en roosteren van vleesch en visch,

meestal boven een houten rooster of stellage, om het te kunnen
bewaren. Als het vleesch iederen avond op nieuw gebarbakot wordt,
blijft het lang goed. Naar Dr. Brinton zou het woord (in Eng. G. als
babrakot uitgesproken) ontleend zijn aan de taal van de
oorspronkelijke bewoners der Antillen.

Bastiaan. Negeropzichter op een plantage in den slaventijd.

Beltiri, ook wel Sakoerá genoemd, is een taaie, vaste massa, uit
gebrande Cassave (Z. a.) bereid, soms ook uit verschillende
palmzaden. De I. hebben op reis steeds beltiri bij zich, om het in het
drinkwater op te lossen.

Bijl. Zie: steenen bijl.

Bittere Cassave. Zie: Cassave.

Boa. Zie: Camoedi.

Boschrat. Onder dezen naam worden verschillende dieren der fauna

van G. verstaan. De eigenlijke boschrat schijnt een aan het tamme
Guineesche [399]biggetje (ook uit Amerika herkomstig) verwante
knaagdiersoort te zijn (Cavia aperea Erxl.), die in Z.-Amerika
inheemsch is. Eigenlijke ratten worden ook wel eens boschratten
genoemd en ten slotte ook de Awari (Z. a.).

Boschvarkens. Zie Piengo en Pakira.

Broodboom, ook Otaheite, in het N.E. Njamsi-brédebon genoemd,

behoort tot het geslacht Artocarpus der Moraceae. Deze boom (A.
incisa L.) heeft groote, tot de helft ingesneden bladeren, en een
verzamelvrucht van de grootte van een menschenhoofd, waarvan het
vleesch de voedingswaarde van brood heeft, zoodat drie boomen
voldoende zijn om een mensch te voeden. De boom werd in 1792 uit
Tahiti naar Jamaica overgebracht, van waar hij zich naar andere
tropische landen verspreid heeft. A. integrifolia heeft een met stekels
bezette vrucht en wordt kastanje-broodboom genoemd. Verschillende
legenden zijn van den Br. in omloop.

Zie ook Dokóen.

Bruinvisch. Deze vischachtige zoogdieren zwemmen, evenals

dolfijnen en zeekoeien, niet zelden van uit de zee de rivieren van G. op
en hebben aanleiding gegeven tot het geloof aan watergeesten en
waternimfen, zoowel bij I. als B. algemeen.

Brulaap. Zie: Babóen.

Bunia-vogel. Groote giersoort, tot het geslacht Ostinops behoorend.

Volgens de C. hebben luchtwortels van een epiphiet (Clusia
grandiflora) hun ontstaan te danken aan dezen vogel, die, rustend in
den boom, waarop deze plant zich heeft vastgehecht, zijn uitwerpselen
laat vallen, waarna deze in hout veranderd zijn. In deze en andere
giersoorten kunnen, volgens de meening van verschillende
Indianenstammen, boschgeesten hun verblijf opslaan en in dien
toestand als Kenaima’s (Z. a.) optreden.

[Inhoud]

C.

Camoedi. De Indiaansche naam voor de Landboa (Boa constrictor) en

de Waterboa of Anaconda (Eunectus murinus), beide gevaarlijke
reuzenslangen. Daar deze slangen zelfs groote dieren, men zegt ook
menschen, omstrengelen en dooddrukken, is de I. voorstelling van
Worgslang ontstaan.

Cassave. Een gekweekt wortelgewas (heester), uit Amerika afkomstig

en in alle tropische landen aangeplant. Het verschil tusschen de bittere
cassave (Manihot utilissima Pohl.) en de zoete (M. palmata) bestaat,
behalve in den smaak, hierin, dat de bittere een veel grooter gehalte
aan blauwzuur bevat. Bij het koken vervluchtigt het blauwzuur en
verliezen de wortels hun giftige eigenschap. Bij de zoete komt het
blauwz. hoofdzakelijk in de schil voor. Een der belangrijkste gewassen,
die de I. op hunne kostgronden telen.

Country fashion man. Evenals de Geestenbezweerder of

Medicijnmeester der N. en de Piaiman der I., heeft de „Country fashion
man” der N. van Sierra Leone de kracht, de geheimzinnige, occulte
machten, die buiten het bereik zijn van het gewone gezichtsvermogen,
waar te nemen. Hij is dus profeet en ziener, de uitlegger van allerlei
teekens en omens, waarin het volk een absoluut vertrouwen heeft.

Creool. Dezen naam geeft men aan blanke bewoners van Z. A. en W.

I., aldaar geboren. In de W. I. koloniën noemt men echter ieder, die er
geboren is, Creool. [400]

[Inhoud]

D.

Dekeweyo-daiba. Het geluid van bedoelden eend, waarin de

natuurmensch duidelijk deze woorden meent te hooren (= ik ben mijn
voorschoot kwijt) is een der vele voorbeelden van dieren, die geluiden
voortbrengen, waarin men duidelijk woorden, soms geheele zinnen
hoort (C. b.).

Dichters. Zie o.a. „Love Letters” van Mrs. Ryan (Ed. Mc Clurg and Co.
Chicago, 1907), waarin een jonge Hopi-I. die in de Oost-Staten der
Unie was opgevoed en gekerstend was, zijn hart uitstort aan zijn
blonde, Amerikaansche geliefde, die hij, terug verlangend naar het
Indiaansche leven, heeft moeten verlaten, en waarin hij ook zijn
afvalligheid aan den godsdienst der blanken, wegens zijne
ongeschiktheid voor den I., in deze woorden tot uiting brengt: „Not
anything of conventional religion, called Christian, has any appeal to
the Hopitù. It is too cold—too far away. The mythology of the Christian
does not bring the gods so close as the mythology of the Indian”. Dit
oordeel staat niet alleen. Een S. C. drukte zich als volgt uit (P. a.): „Gij
sluit jelui God in een huis op; wij zoeken Hem in zijn werkplaats, de
Natuur”. Zie ook: K. c.

Doe. Onder D. verstaat men een Zang- en Dansgenootschap onder

negers en kleurlingen, dat meestal eens per jaar, onder een daarvoor
ingerichte tent, zijn openbare bijeenkomst houdt en met begeleiding
van N.-instrumenten, N.-liederen zingt en N.-dansen uitvoert.

Dokóen is geen vrucht, doch de naam van eene in S. zeer geliefde

versnapering, bereid uit Cassave- of bananenmeel of ook wel uit meel
van jonge maïs, en die gemengd wordt met suiker, vanilje, soms ook
met peper. Dokóen wordt in vierkante pakjes van bananenblad
opgediend. De Dokóenboom schijnt dus in het fantastische brein der
negers een soort wonderboom (Z. a.) te zijn, omdat hij zoo iets
heerlijks voortbrengt.

Dorens. Zie onder Bactris.

Doroquara. Een kleine zangvogel, tot het geslacht Odontophorus

behoorend.
Drank. Dezen bereiden de I. uit de wortels van Cassave (Z. a.). Door
gisting van het meel bereiden zij er verschillende geestrijke dranken
uit, o.a. Tapana (Z. a.).

Duizendpoot. In G. komen Duizendpooten voor (tot het geslacht

Scolopendra behoorend), die 20 cM. lang kunnen worden en zich met
levende dieren voeden, welke zij met hun in een klauw eindigend
tweede kaakpooten-paar eerst vergiftigen. De verwondingen zijn zeer
pijnlijk, en kunnen ook voor den mensch gevaarlijke gevolgen hebben.

Dwergmuskusdier. Zie: Hyomoschus.

[Inhoud]

E.

Egret. Zie: reiger.

[Inhoud]

F.

Framboesia tropica, in S. Jas of Jaws genoemd, is een in vele

tropische landen verspreide, zeer besmettelijke ziekte, die door direct
contact en naar het schijnt ook door vliegen wordt overgebracht. Er
ontstaan op de huid zweren en uitwassen, die op frambozen gelijken.
Zij wordt veroorzaakt door Spirochaeten, die nauw verwant zijn aan
[401]die der syphilis, zoodat het denkbeeld van Dr. E. A. Koch en den
officier van gezondheid Flu, om het middel van Ehrlich-Hatta,
Salversaan 606 en later neo-salversaan op de jawslijders toe te
passen, met verrassenden uitslag bekroond werd.

[Inhoud]

G.

Gier. Zie: Stinkvogel en Buniavogel.

Godsdienst der Indianen. Zie: onder dichters.

Gordeldier. (N.E. Kapasi) ook schildvarken genoemd, behoort tot de

zoogdier-orde der Tandeloozen. De gordeldieren hebben een
huidbedekking uit beenplaten, door de lederhuid gevormd, overdekt
door de verhoornde opperhuid. De voorpooten hebben sterke
klauwnagels, waarmede zij zich snel in den grond kunnen graven. In
G. komen 5 soorten voor, die grootendeels aan zandterreinen
gebonden zijn, waar hunne holen menigvuldig zijn.

Gronduil. De S. holenuil (Speotyto cunicularia) nestelt veel in verlaten

holen van gordeldieren.

Guave. Van dit tot de Myrtaceeën behoorend geslacht onderscheidt

men de gekweekte G. (Psidium guajava L.) die een vrij kleine boom is,
wiens vruchten, die een rood of wit vruchtvleesch hebben, gegeten
worden, en de wilde Guave (P. polycarpon Lamb.), een kleine boom of
heester, die langs de rivieroevers en op eilanden in de
stroomversnellingen in S. veel voorkomt. Met het sap der vruchten
beschilderen de I. hun aardewerk met allerhande figuren.
[Inhoud]

H.

Haas. Zie: Oerana.

Halla. Zetel voor den toovenaar of geestenbezweerder.

Hajara. Arowaksche naam voor vogelspin (Zie aldaar).

Harpoen-lans. Behalve verschillende soorten van pijlen voor het

schieten van bepaalde dieren, heeft de I. ook zijn harpoen-lans, een
visch-lans met lossen kop.

Heboe-mataro. Rammelaar. Zie: Maraca.

Hebu of Heboe. Deze is een der boschgeesten der Warraus. De Hebu

is een behaard wezen, met sterk vooruitspringende wenkbrauwbogen,
waardoor hij niet naar boven kan zien.

Hippopotamus, door de N. van Sierra Leone Pawpawtamus

genoemd, is het Nijlpaard, het groote vierhoevige dier der
Afrikaansche stroomen.

Hyomoschus aquaticus is een sierlijk gebouwd, klein, reeachtig

diertje met vrij stevige, op het konijnenlichaam gelijkenden romp, en
dunne, in twee kleine hoeven eindigende pooten; het is verwant aan
de muskusdieren, doch heeft geen muskusklier. De fijne, sierlijk
gevormde kop heeft mooie heldere oogen. Op een donkerbruinen
grond is de huid met witte streepen en vlekken geteekend.

Het diertje is beperkt tot West-Afrika, en houdt zich in het oerwoud-

gebied op, waar het gaarne de oevers van meren en rivieren opzoekt,
(van daar de soortnaam aquaticus). Deze soort heeft alleen verwanten
in Z. en Z.O. Azië, van welke de kantjil van Java de meest bekende is.
[402]

[Inhoud]

I.

Indianen der West-Indische eilanden. Op schandelijke wijze

verdelgd door de Spaansche en later door andere overheerschers, die
hen in de mijnen gebruikten, om doodend slavenwerk te doen, is het I.-
ras (de vredelievende A. op de Groote Antillen, de heldhaftige,
strijdlustige C. op de Kleine Antillen), nog slechts onder de
kruisingsprodukten van dit eilandengebied te herkennen, zooals op
Aruba, waar kleurlingen, uit de kruising van Indianen en Negers
voortgekomen, een geprononceerd Indianentype vertoonen. De op de
eilanden gesproken omgangstaal, het papiamento, (papiamentsch) op
Curaçao, bevat ook vele woorden van Indiaansche afkomst, en een
nog veel grooter aantal op Aruba en Bonaire, waar de I. bevolking veel
langer heeft standgehouden. Op het eiland Dominica kwamen nog
voor enkele jaren zuivere C. voor, die er langzaam schijnen weg te
kwijnen. (Zie Ko.)

Itapalm. De Mauritia-palm (Mauritia flexuosa L.), die niet zelden

samenhangende bosschen vormt, is voor den I. van groote
economische waarde. Hij levert een soort sago op; de stam geeft,
voordat de vruchttros zich opent, bij het aanboren een groote
hoeveelheid zoet vocht, waaruit men suiker en brandewijn kan
bereiden; uit de vezels der bladeren maken de A. hangmatten enz. De
A. eten als lekkernij de zg. palmwormen (takoema), de larven van
Calandra palmarum, een snuitkever, die zij in de gevelde
palmstammen veelvuldig vinden. Als kaas gebruiken zij het
afgekrabde, tot een koek gevormde vleezige gedeelte der vruchten.

Itiriti. Indiaansche naam voor Wariembo. (Zie aldaar).

Itioto’s zijn volgens de Penards: Bosch-Indianen. Elders wordt deze

naam niet aangetroffen.

[Inhoud]

J.

Jacamar. De Jacamars behooren tot een Kolibri-geslacht, dat de

Koningen onder deze schitterende vogelfamilie bevat. In S. wordt een
Jacamar daarom Kolibri-granman (Kolibri-gouverneur) genoemd.

Jagoear. (Felis onca), ook wel Amerikaansche tijger genoemd, is het

gevaarlijkste katachtige roofdier van Amerika. Rosachtig van tint, en
met witten buik, is het fraaie dier aan de zijden met 4–6 rijen groote
zwarte ringvormige vlekken, elk met een middenvlek, geteekend. Een
variëteit is geheel zwart. Zwarte tijgers der Indianen. (Zie: Tobe-horo-
anna).

Jakono. Vrienden.

Jams zijn de stengelknollen van Dioscorea Cayennensis L. en worden

als aardappelen gegeten. Deze zijn een belangrijk voedsel voor de
armere bevolking. De C. noemen ze Njamsi, de A. Koeroekwaroe.

Jawahoe is de naam voor Joroka (Zie aldaar).

Jawa-Konejenje beteekent volgens de Penards (P.) slechte Wraak-I.

Jaws. Zie: Framboesia.

Joroka (van C. oorsprong) is de naam voor een Boschgeest, verwant

aan Konokokoeja der A. In G. waar deze Geest onder verschillende
namen voorkomt (Joleka, Yurokon, Jawahoe enz.) wordt hij als sterk
behaard voorgesteld. Hij leeft onder den grond, kan zoowel man als
vrouw zijn, en komt na een voorafgegaan teeken te voorschijn. Hij
heeft geen pijl en boog en vecht met armen en beenen. Vandaar dat,
wanneer een I. door zoo’n Geest wordt aangevallen, hij schijnbaar
ongedeerd naar zijn [403]hut terugkeert. Hij kan er echter zeker van
zijn, zoo gelooft hij, dat hij, zonder dat sporen van geweld hij hem te
vinden zijn, kort daarna sterft.

Het woord Joroka, dat spook of schim beteekent, is na den invoer der
N., spoedig in hunne taal overgenomen.

[Inhoud]

K.

Kaaiman. Zie: Alligator.

Kaikoutji of Kaikoetsji is de A. naam voor Kaaiman, de C. naam voor

Jagoear.

Kakkerlak. In G. komen van deze rechtvleugelige insekten meerdere

soorten voor, die door hare vraatzucht zeer onaangenaam zijn. De
gewone soort (Blatta surinamensis) veroorzaakt in woningen veel last,
waarom spinnen, hare vijanden, er in hooge eere worden gehouden.
Een groote soort (Blatta gigantea) kan soms in het oerwoud
onaangenaam zijn (C.b.).
Kalebas. Vrucht van den Kalebasboom (Crescentia cujete L.). De
vruchten worden in G., behalve voor de maraka of tooverrammelaar
van den I. geestenbezweerder (piaiman), ook voor drinknappen en
lepels bij de B. gebruikt.

Kalìenja. Naam, die de C. der Benedenlanden zich zelven geven, en

beteekent, volgens de Penards (P.a.), donkere I.

Kalkoen, ook trompettervogel, in het N.E. kami-kami is de Psophia

crepitans. Deze vogel van de grootte van een hoen, maakt een
eigenaardig brommend geluid.

Kamisa. Lendenkleed, meest van blauw katoen, dat zoowel door I.-
mannen als door vrouwen (bij deze langer) gedragen wordt. Bij de
Boschnegers is het hier doorgaans kortere en eenige kleedingstuk der
mannen een lap katoen, die tusschen de beenen doorgehaald wordt,
en waarvan voor- en achtereinde over een als gordel dienenden
katoendraad afhangen.

Kankantrie is een verbastering van Cotton-tree. Deze groote,

majestueuse boom, ook zijde-katoenboom (Ceiba pentandra Gärtn.)
genoemd, wordt door de S. negers Boesi-granman (=
Boschgouverneur) genoemd, en door de B. nog vereerd. Volgens het
uit Afrika medegebrachte geloof, dat aldaar aan, in voorkomen op den
kankantrie gelijkende, boomen verbonden is, dient deze boom tot
verblijf aan verschillende kwade geesten (C.e.), o.a. aan de Koemaka-
joroka der Arowakken.

Kanoa. Een zeer groote korjaal (boot), die vroeger bij de Indianen
speciaal voor oorlogsdoeleinden werd gemaakt en wel 200 à 300
krijgers bevatten kon.

Kapitein. Hoofd van een I.-dorp. Bij de B. staat een kapitein in rang
onder een Groot kapitein.
Kapasi. Zie: gordeldier.

Kapasi-slang. Een, soms 2 M. lange, zeer giftige slang (Lachesis

mutus), die, naar men zegt, in een gordeldier-hol verblijf houdt
(vandaar de naam) en met dit dier gemoedelijk samenleeft. Een
gelijksoortige samenleving van gravend zoogdier en slang is van den
prairie-hond bekend.

Kasjoe. Lage boom (Anacardium occidentale L.), die in alle tropische

landen om de vruchten gekweekt wordt; de eigenlijke vrucht, die zwart
en niervormig is, wordt gedragen door den grooten, vleezig
opgezwollen vruchtsteel (schijnvrucht), waarvan op Curaçao gelei
gemaakt wordt.

Kassaroa of Kassoeroe-xoewa is een klein vischje (Anableps

tetrophthalmus [404]Bloch.), dat in kleine scholen in riviermondingen en
langs het strand op modderbanken leeft, en in tint met het modderige
water zoo merkwaardig overeenstemt, wordt ook wel slijkspringer,
vieroog (vandaar de wetenschappelijke naam) genoemd, omdat zijn
oogen horizontaal in tweeën verdeeld zijn, zoodat hij met de bovenste
ooghelft in de lucht (vandaar de derde naam hoogkijker) en met de
onderste in het water ziet.

Kauries of Kauri-schelpen. Een kleine gele Katjesschelp (Cypraea

moneta) wordt bij de N. sedert lang als betaalmiddel gebruikt. Ook in
den kleinhandel met S. B. werden eertijds Kauris gebruikt, die als
Papamoni bekend waren. Nu nog wordt deze schelp door de B. als
amulet (voorbehoed- of beschermingsmiddel tegen booze geesten)
gebruikt.

Kenaima’s. Wrekers. (Zie blz. 41).

Kikvorsch. Talrijk zijn in G. de tot de Vorschachtige dieren (Anura)

behoorende Amphibieën. Vooral de padden en boomkikvorschen zijn
er door talrijke soorten vertegenwoordigd, die dikwijls door fraaie
kleuren uitmunten. Deze dieren nemen een groot aandeel aan het
oerwoud-concert (C. b.).

Klokkenvogel. Het geluid van dezen vogel (Procnias nudicollis Vieill.)

die op een naakte, groene keel en groene teugels na, een sneeuwwit
gevederte heeft, is een van de schoonste en treffendste geluiden van
het nachtelijk dierenconcert in de oerwouden van G. Het klinkt alsof
meerdere glazen klokken tegelijk worden aangeslagen. Volgens de I.
kondigt het geluid van dezen vogel veel zonneschijn aan.

Knip. De knip of val, door de I. opgesteld, om vogels te vangen en

Kravana genoemd, ziet er volgens de Penards (P. a.) uit als een
pyramide-vormige hoop takken, die aan één kant rusten of omhoog
gehouden worden door een houtje, waaromheen een touw loopt, dat
aan twee hoeken der kn. is bevestigd. Stoot een of andere vogel tegen
dit touw, dan valt de kn. dicht.

Koeroe-Koeroe is een ruw uit lianen of ook wel uit wariembo-riet

gevlochten mand met wijde mazen, dienende voor het vervoer van
cassave-wortels en ter bewaring van visch, krabben enz.

Koesoewé, ook wel Orlean Roekoe genoemd, is een roode kleurstof,

die vooral voorkomt in de laag om de zaden van Bixa orellana L., een
kleine sierlijke boom. Van deze kleurstof is het handelsprodukt
afkomstig, dat als boter- en kaaskleursel dient. Zie verder: Roodhuid.

Koeshi-mier. Zie: Saoeba-mier.

Kofa. Naam van een der Clusia-soorten (Clusia grandiflora). Z. bij

Bunia-vogel.

Kohora. Honigbij. Sommige bijensoorten, in holle boomen nestelend,

leveren den I. lekkeren honig op.

Kola-noten of Cola-noten zijn afkomstig van een tot de fam. der

Sterculaceën behoorenden boom, in tropisch Afrika inheemsch. Zij
worden gebruikt als opwekkend middel voor het hart en het
spierstelsel.

Komaka of Koemaka. Zie: Kankantrie.

Koni-Koni. N.E. voor de Agoeti. (Z. a.). De S. N. gebruiken den naam

K.-K. ook voor andere knaagdieren, zooals het Guineesche biggetje.
De heldenfeiten van „Cunnie Rabbit”, door de N. van de Goudkust en
Sierra Leone (Cr.) verteld, zijn in S. vermoedelijk van het
dwergmuskusdier op de Agoeti (Z. a.) overgegaan, wanneer van het
„konijn” verteld wordt.

Konoko-dakodwada. Boschpot. [405]

Koningsgier. Zie: Stinkvogel.

Konoko-koeja. Woudgeest der Arowakken.

Koren, ook wel Bokkenkoren (Bokken worden in het algemeen de I.

genoemd), is de naam, die men in S. voor maïs (zie aldaar) gebruikt.

Kormorant. Deze naam geeft men aan verschillende soorten van

aalscholvers of zeeraven en is samengetrokken uit corvus (= raaf) en
marinus (= in of aan zee levend). Aalscholvers komen in alle streken
voor. Men treft ze als vischverdelgers niet alleen aan zeekusten aan,
doch ook aan rivieroevers. Zou er ook eenig verband zijn, vraag ik,
tusschen de donkergetinte randen der veeren bij dezen vogel,
waardoor het gevederte als geschubd lijkt, en het door de I. laten
optreden van den K. om de reuzenslang te verdelgen?

Kororomanna is een der Nationale Helden der Warraus.

Kostgrond noemt men de somtijds ver van de dorpen of kampen

gelegen bouwvelden der I. (ook der N.).
Kópro Kanón. Onder dezen naam was in 1829 een negerslaaf bij het
militaire kommando in S. berucht wegens zijn behendigheid,
waarmede hij aan zijn vervolgers wist te ontkomen. Toch gelukte het
de boschpatrouille, die in genoemd jaar tegen hem was uitgezonden,
het „koperen kanon” in zijn hut diep in het bosch te overrompelen, en
hem neêr te schieten. Zijn vrouw werd naar Paramaribo gevoerd, en
moest de afgehouwen hand, die voor den soldaat tien gulden waard
was, ja zelfs het hoofd van haar man als zegeteeken (!) meêdragen.
(Zie het aangehaalde boek van Dr. W. R. van Hoëvell, tweede druk,
2e deel, blz. 117).

Nog bij het tegenwoordige Creolengeslacht is deze „koperen kanon”

blijven voortleven, zooals niet alleen uit de vertelling in dezen bundel
blijkt, doch ook uit het liedje, dat door de S. jeugd nog altijd wordt
gezongen, wanneer zij, zooals men dit noemt aan het „aftellen” is. De
kinderen zingen dan de moeder van Kópro Kanón na, als zij haar
lievelingskinderen riep. (Zie blz. 333).

Kraai. Met kr. („Blackbird” in den oorspronkelijken tekst) wordt bedoeld

de kau-foetoe-boy der Sur. negers, een koekoekachtige vogel, die men
vaak op den rug van runderen naar insekten ziet zoeken. Wegens zijn
zijdelings samengedrukten, sterk gebogen snavel wordt deze vogel
(Crotophago ani) ook wel smousvogel genoemd.

Kraan. Daar Kraanvogels in G. niet voorkomen, zal met dezen vogel

vermoedelijk bedoeld zijn de Kraanral (Aranus scolopaceus), door de
Creolen Krau-krau genoemd.

Krab. Aan de lage kusten van G. wemelt het van krabben, hetzij aan
het modderige strand, hetzij in ondiep water; maar ook in helder water
en op het land komen zij er voor. Omtrent de soorten is men het nog
niet geheel eens. In Juli en September zamelen de I. massa’s kr. in,
om ze als voedsel te gebruiken. In deze maanden houden de dieren
hun „carnaval”, waarbij zij in menigte over den modder rondloopen en
dan dikwijls gevechten leveren. Men ziet ze dan hunne holen in- en
uitkruipen, en kunnen dan met de handen gevangen worden. Door de
I. worden deze dieren als de grootste lekkernij beschouwd, zoodat zij
in genoemde maanden in hunne booten naar het strand of naar de
moerassige rivieroevers trekken en de dieren bij duizenden in hunne
Krabkorven meê naar hun dorp kunnen nemen. [406]

Kraboe dagoe. N.E. naam voor een roofdier (Procyon cancrivorus),

van de grootte van een vos, dat aan den Waschbeer van N.-Amerika
verwant is. Behalve vruchten, eet dit dier vogels, hagedissen en is
verlekkerd op krabben, vandaar de N.E. naam, die Krabben-hond
beteekent.

Kuri-Kuri. Groote roofvogel, met welken zonder twijfel de Regen-

roofvogel (Herpetotheres cachinnans), ook wel Alin-akka genoemd,
bedoeld is. Zijn in den vroegen morgen gehoord geluid kondigt,
volgens de I., regen aan.

Kwama. Fluit. Doorgaans is deze van bamboe vervaardigd. In

vroegere eeuwen gebruikten de I. versierde fluiten van jagoear- en
menschenbeenderen.

Kwejoe. A. vrouwen droegen eertijds, soms ook nu nog wel, een

voorschoot of schortje van kralen, oorspronkelijk echter van zaden en
schelpjes. Deze Kw. zijn meest versierd met allerlei kralenfiguren,
kwastjes en franjes. Bij de Warrau-vrouwen is de Kw. langer.

[Inhoud]

L.

Labba. A. naam voor een knaagdier (Coelogenys paca). Zie bij:

Oerana.
Landkrab. Zie bij: Krab.

Leba of Libba is bij de N. een booze geest, die den mensch vervolgt.
Volgens de Penards (P. b.) beteekent L. ook „zwaarte” en wordt als
een oude vrouw gedacht, in lompen gehuld, in het woud wonende en
belast met schuld en zonden. Zij zou, als men haar nadert, een deel
van haar last op den persoon kunnen afwentelen, dan zelf in een geest
veranderen, en onhoorbaar menschen besluipen, op wie zij zich van
een deel harer zonden ontlast. De beslopene voelt zich lusteloos,
zwaar, verliest alle eetlust. Alleen de geestenbezweerder (Obiaman)
kan de leba uitdrijven, enz.

Levensblad. Zie: Levensboom.

Levensboom. Levensboomen en Levensbladeren, ook

Wonderboomen en Wonderbladeren genoemd, spelen in het leven der
I. een groote rol. Bij de A. van Eng. G. wordt bij ziekte een blad van
een vetplant (Bryophyllum pinnatum), die de eigenschap heeft, aan
den rand van afgesneden bladeren jonge plantjes voort te brengen, in
de hut opgehangen. Wanneer er plantjes uit voortkomen, wordt dit als
een teeken beschouwd, dat de zieke beter zal worden.

Liaan. Onder de lianen, de houtige slingerplanten, die in de tropische

oerwouden een zoo groote rol spelen (C. b.) bevinden zich zeer
buigzame soorten, die als touw (Boesi tetei = boschtouw) gebruikt
worden. Er zijn lianen, zoowel in de wouden van G. als in de
Afrikaansche wildernis, sterk genoeg, om er een boot aan vast te
leggen.

Lichtkever (Pyrophorus noctulicus) is een tot de z.g. springkevers of

kniptorren (Elateridae) behoorende soort, die aan beide zijden van het
borststuk een geel plekje bezit, waaruit des nachts een helder licht
straalt. Bij een onzer kampementen in het oerwoud kwamen zij zoo
talrijk voor, dat men ze bij menigte kon oprapen, bedwelmd door den