Sitting on a bluff, facing Sirius--also known as the Dog Star and the brightest star in the sky--is a tall, domed tent made of bent willow reeds and a heavy canvas cover, decorated with ancient symbols and pictographs. With a curved opening just big enough for a grown man to crawl through, there's only one way in, or out, of the tent. This is the sweat lodge where the evening's ceremony is to take place.

Patrick is the first to enter.

He crawls in and moves clockwise, around the fire pit, followed by Aidan, and Farid. They take their seats on huge logs, stripped of their bark and set up as benches in front of a pit filled with to the brim with hot stones.

Also in the tent are Chief Qa'watil, Minuk, and the three male dinner guests from the night before. The heat in the tent is stifling and everyone looks at each other, silently and awkwardly, as they wait for the shaman, Anatu Windwalker, to arrive. After a few moments, he finally does.

With a sense of relief, Chief Qa'watil stands, bending over slightly because he's about four inches taller than the tent.

"Ah, Shaman Windwalker," he says warmly. "We are so blessed to have you with us." He gives the shaman a reverent bow.

"And I am blessed to be with you," Shaman Windwalker replies, turning and bowing his head gracefully a few times, essentially addressing the entire group.

"Aho, Mitakuye Oyasin," he says as he makes his way to the back of the tent to take his seat in a large, low-slung chair made of sturdy redwood and festooned with many, many pillows. Shaman Windwalker, while short, is a bit on the heavy side, and no one wants their shaman to be uncomfortable, especially during a ceremony as important as this.

The men of the Kikatuwa tribe repeat the greeting, which means "We are all related; We are all one."

"Aho, Mitakuye Oyasin," they say in unison.

With that, Shaman Windwalker--happily ensconced in the guest of honor seat in between the Chief and Minuk--sits cross-legged and begins to prepare for the ceremony.

He pulls a mortar and pestle out of the large leather pouch he's wearing. It's big, almost as big as a messenger bag. He also retrieves a large wooden bowl and sets it down in front of him as well.

With his surprisingly beefy hands, he gently sprinkles various herbs into the mortar and with a precise, steady rhythm, crushes them together so, in the end, it looks like herbal tea. Then, he adds a few drops of several different oils.

He pours everything into a ceramic urn with four tall legs and sets it over the fire. While his elixir brews, Shaman Windwalker pulls out a fragment of deer hide, about the size of a table mat, and lays it before him.

At first, the brew emits a fragrant scent, but then once it comes to a full boil, the shaman tosses in a few secret ingredients that none of the boys manage to see clearly, but Aidan swears looked like beetles and spiders.

Then, the shaman closes his eyes, bows his head, and begins to chant a prayer. The men of the tribe join him. Farid and Aidan, bewildered, look to Patrick who tucks his chin down and closes his eyes, indicating that they should do the same.

And they do, but Aidan's curiosity gets the better of him and he can't help but pop an eye open a couple of times to peek at the proceedings.

As the pace of the chant increases, Shaman Windwalker sways back and forth as if in a trance, then after a few minutes, his eyes pop open as if he's been shocked back into reality. He reaches for a ladle and splashes water over the heated stones. The water sizzles as it evaporates instantly, and waves of heat and steam overwhelm the space. The boys' eyes water and sweat drips in rivulets down their faces.

This goes on for only a few minutes--but to the boys, it feels like hours. Until finally, Shaman Windwalker reaches for a small clay pot sitting next to him. He pours the brew he'd just made into a pot that he holds above his head. He finishes his prayer with an enthusiastic call of "Wani Wachiyelo," a plea for the Father to help them in their endeavors and a call to their Spirit Wolf to protect the tribe.

He then takes the top off of the small pot and takes a sip of the liquid inside. He passes the pot to the Chief, who also takes a sip, then the Chief passes the pot over to Patrick.

Patrick takes a tiny sip and politely holds back a grimace before handing it to Aidan. Aidan gets one whiff of the concoction, and his face contorts. Then, Aidan being Aidan, he can't help but mumble underneath his breath, "Ugh! It smells like feet!"

Both Patrick and Farid's eyes go wide with shock. And as Farid surreptitiously glances around the room to make sure no one else heard what Aidan just said, Patrick narrows his eyes to the size of a pinprick, giving Aidan a silent warning.

Aidan's cheeks flush as he pinches his lips together. Then, he murmurs, "Diplomacy. Yeah, got it!"

Sucking in a deep breath, Aidan holds the pot up to his lips. His eyes water and his face scrunches up involuntarily, and he thinks if he could only pinch his nose, this would be much easier. But then it hits him. He begins to murmur an incantation and his nose temporarily constricts, obstructing the smell from the bubbling brew and allowing him to take a big, healthy slurp of the potion.

All goes well except that he had to use an extremely short-lived spell so he wouldn't accidentally cut off his breathing so long that he'd end up passing out. As the liquid slides down his throat, the smell of the concoction in the pot comes roaring back, leaving Aidan gagging, coughing, and gasping for breath.

But Aidan does his best to recover as quickly as he can. And having finally learned his lesson, he juts his arm out, his thumb up high, smiles enthusiastically at the Shaman, and murmurs something about this being "good stuff!" Then, he passes the pot to Farid.

After another half an hour in the sweat lodge, the ceremony wraps up, and the boys emerge from the tent cloaked in their fluffy white robes, but drenched in sweat. They were each given a small towel and all three of them wipe their faces as they try to recover from the very intense experience they'd just had.

Patrick nods his head in the direction of the patch of grass on the side of the sweat lodge and Aidan and Farid drag their fatigued bodies and follow him. It's a place where they can, literally, catch their breath and the men of the tribe won't see or hear them.

Aidan bends over, planting his hands on his knees and sucks in several long, deep, deliberate breaths. His heart is racing and he's beginning to feel dizzy.

"By all the gods!" he exclaims, "between that extremely pungent liquid and the 120-degree heat in there, I honestly thought I was gonna die! And my head, oy! It won't stop spinning!"

Patrick walks in circles with his hands resting on his head, trying to get his bearings. He's feeling wiped out and dizzy too, but he's not shaken up by how he feels. He knew it was going to happen. "Did you drink enough of the bottled water that guy with the faux-hawk was passing out at the end of the ceremony?"

"Yeah," Aidan says.

"Good. We'll drink more water when we get back to the tent," Patrick says. "You'll be okay."

Farid, who's also bent over, is suddenly seized by a violent cough. "My heart is thundering and I'm feeling totally lightheaded," he coughs out, then wheezes as if he's choking. He pounds his chest to loosen whatever it is that's clogging him up.

Aidan reaches out, and firmly but carefully, pats Farid's back.

After a moment, Farid's cough subsides. "Thanks, man," he says to Aidan. He sucks in a deep breath and straightens, finally feeling better, feeling more grounded. "You did good," he tells Aidan. "I know there was that moment when you..." he searches for the right word so he doesn't end up insulting Aidan. "You know when you--"

"Effed it up?" Aidan offers, his brows raised.

Farid chuckles. "Yeah, that... but you recovered quickly."

"Thanks," Aidan says quietly, taken aback by the compliment.

Patrick rubs his hands vigorously over his face, trying to fight off the fatigue. "Wow! That was a good time!" he exclaims. "I've never been in one of those ceremonies for that long, or had any Lahopa before."

"Lahopa?" Aidan inquires. "Is that what that foot soup we were drinking is called?" Aidan asks, not in an accusatory tone, but out of genuine interest.

Off of a hearty laugh, Patrick says, "Yeah. It's that intense because you gotta go big with your cleansing ceremony if you want to invoke the Spirit Wolf." Patrick turns and starts heading back to their tent. Farid and Aidan follow.

"Ooh... Spirit Wolf! Aidan exclaims. "That sounds cool! I wonder if it's anything like my spirit animals?"

"Lahopa..." Aidan tries out the word, then says it again, but this time drawing out the word in an attempt to sear it into his brain. "Lah ho pah."  The words pour out of his mouth more slowly this time. He really wants to take the cultural exchange part of their mission seriously, even though his attempts have gotten off to a rocky start."

Patrick Looks at Aidan and he can tell that he's not mocking the word or the ceremony. He really is trying to learn it, and Patrick appreciates his efforts. "It's an ancient blend of sacred herbs meant to cleanse your spirit," he says. "That's why it's so intense and ahh... umm... odious."

Then, Patrick cracks a slow smile. "Oh, and it's also a mild hallucinogen," he adds casually.

Farid and Aidan stop dead in their tracks.

"It's a what?!" Aidan screeches.

Patrick's smile widens. "Oh, did I not mention that before?"

"You most certainly did not!" Aidan says, swaying as he walks, his legs feeling less and less steady."

"Yeah," Farid adds, his words beginning to slur. "That's the kind of information you really should have briefed us on before the ceremony."

Patrick can't hold back a laugh. "Don't worry," he says. "It's totally harmless. It mostly makes you really sleepy, and you'll probably end up having some trippy dreams tonight."

Patrick suddenly stops as a thought occurs to him. "At least, I think that's the effect it'll have on you." He looks back at Aidan and Farid, then tilts his head. "I mean, that's the effect it has on Shifters, but I actually don't know what it does to Enchanteds and Vampyrs."

"Seriously, dude!" Farid's eyes widen as he throws his arms up in the air. But he's so unsteady on his feet, he ends up falling backwards onto his ass.

"Yeah, dude..." Aidan says, mirroring Farid's annoyance. "That's soooo not cool." He leans forward unsteadily and jabs a finger at Patrick like an indignant headmaster.

"Guys, honestly," Patrick says, understanding their displeasure but still trying his best to suppress another laugh. "It didn't even occur to me, or else I definitely would have told you. I swear! Plus," he adds, "it generally only lasts about an hour. I think you two will be fine." He turns around to face them, and walking backwards, takes in the scene.

He grimaces as he watches Farid and Aidan stumbling behind him like a couple of drunks on increasingly wobbly legs.

"Or to be honest..." Patrick reluctantly admits, "you might be in for a very, very long night."

*****

A/N - Hold on to your hats, folks! It's about to get hella cray-cray in the next chapter.

Fun Fact: Both of the phrases below are actually Lakota phrases used in greeting and in certain ceremonies.

Aho, Mitakuye Oyasin - We are all related. We are all one.

Wani Wachiyelo - Is a plea to the Father for help and guidance.

I hope you enjoyed the chapter. 😊

I'll see you next week!

~ Paula ❤️