My Name Is Cree

by T. K. Richardson

  He turned, looking at me, his eyes alarmed, like he knew my thoughts. His hand brushed my cheek, still damp from the single tear. “Little Foot?” he whispered. I smiled, though it wasn’t genuine. It was a smile so he wouldn’t worry, or ask questions, or think I was planning on leaving. But I was.

  I had to.

  The memories of his past haunted him, and perhaps our closeness reminded him of another time. It was selfish of me, and I cared more for his future than of my temporary comfort. One thing life in the forest taught me – never expect anything. Then you won’t be disappointed. So now I vowed not to expect anything, even the smallest gesture, from anyone. It was better this way.

  “Who was out there?” I asked, moving his hand from my cheek, and holding it with both hands, cradling them like a pillow, rolling my head onto them.

  “Did you hear us?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  “I thought so,” he said. “Red Hawk is concerned.”

  I sat up on the skins, the cool air instantly wrapping around me. Reaching for my shirt I pulled it over me, and tugged my jeans from the floor.

  “It was a long time ago, Little Foot,” he said.

  I stopped, looked in his eyes, and a pang of hurt struck me. “But it is right now, too,” I said and leaned over, touching my finger to his forehead. “Time has no measure with deep loss.” I touched his cheek.

  I slipped my other foot inside my jeans, pulled them on and looked for my boots. I noticed a new pair of moccasins by the flap, small, tiny beadwork forming a yellow daffodil, leather straps lacing all the way up to the top. “Where did these come from?” I asked and pulled them to me.

  “I haven’t seen them before. Maybe they were put here through the night.”

  I handed one to him, while I looked at the tight seems, the rabbit fur lining, the outer pelt and soul covered in a sheen of bear fat to protect against the elements.

  “Looks like Willow’s work, but I’m not sure,” he said.

  “For me?” I asked, not wanting to assume.

  He shook his head. “Yes, I think these are made with your bear hide, so definitely for you.”

  A slight laugh bubbled out and I sat down, eager to try them on. Perhaps these daffodils, a reminder of home, would walk me back there someday. Maybe someday soon.

  He shot a glance my way, but I avoided eye contact. I laced them up, the supple skin hugging my legs all the way to the knee. A perfect fit. He looked at the boots and nodded. “Very nice,” he said.

  “Oh, I need to start work on the rabbit hides today,” I said, more to myself than to him.

  “While you’re doing that, I’ll go talk to the elders.”

  “I’ll need to talk to them soon, too,” I said.

  We looked at each other for a split second. The thought of yesterday and tomorrow mingling too close together.

  Chapter 17

  I kneeled next to a large flat rock, lay a pelt over it, pulled my knife free, and started scraping the membrane and flesh from the underside. I took my time knowing rabbit pelts, thin and delicate, tore easily. I worked from top to bottom, a gentle scraping motion. I finished one and started another. Scraping, cleaning, readying the pelt for the next step in the process.

  Three Scars left to speak with the elders, and that left me alone to think, but I tried to focus on my task and not my future. I wasn’t good at holding things inside, so I let each thought go with each scrape of my blade.

  At least I tried to.

  “You like them?” a voice said.

  I turned quick. Running Bear stood near me, about four feet away, scanning my pelts. “The moccasins,” he said and nodded to them tucked under me in my kneeling position.

  “I do,” I said, trying to compose myself. I didn’t hear his approach and his presence was unexpected. I stood to my feet, my blade still in my hand.

  “From Willow, I think,” I said.

  He nodded. “She does good work.”

  “She does,” I replied, wondering why he was here.

  “I thought you might like to meet with Three Scars. He’s just finishing with the elders. I can walk you there,” he offered, his black eyes flicking from my hair to my top. I glanced across the camp, and spotted Willow. She swept the area in front of her tent, glancing at me at the same time. She stopped sweeping, her posture rigid. She ducked inside her tipi as I dropped my gaze to the ground.

  “Did he send for me?” I asked.

  He shifted from one foot to the other and hooked his thumb in his pocket. “No, but I’m still going that way if you want to go,” he said.

  I turned back to my pelts, inadvertently wiping the blade against my leg. Still three to go. “I need to finish these before they start to smell and I lose them,” I said, turning back to him. I drew in a quick breath, surprised that Red Hawk appeared right next to him. I glanced at Willow’s tipi, she resumed her sweeping, not looking my way.

  “Let’s hunt together, Little Brother,” Red Hawk said. Running Bear stepped back, pushing his hair over his shoulder. “I’m meeting with the elders. I can hunt later, though,” he replied, dropping his gaze to the ground. Red Hawk nodded and stood firm, crossing his arms over his chest. Running Bear glanced at me and turned toward the center of camp and walked away.

  Red Hawk spotted my work and stepped closer. “Nice catch,” he said. “They’re big and have good color.”

  “They’re for Willow,” I said, looking closer at what still needed to be done.

  “She will like them,” he said and smiled, nodding his head. He looked over his shoulder. Running Bear was nowhere in sight. “I’ll let you get back to your work.” He dipped his head and walked back toward his tipi. Willow never looked my way, but I’d be sure to thank her when the time was right.

  I finished cleaning the last skin and needing salt for the next step in the tanning process, I cleaned my blade, slid it into my new moccasins, and started toward the main tent. I hoped there would be enough salt for all the hides. I passed Willow’s tent where children played outside, angled through the shelters peppered across the open area, and spotted the dining hall. I turned and headed toward it.

  “I spoke first, not you, brother. This was mine. Not yours. You had your chance once,” Running Bear said, his voice a deep growl. I turned to see Running Bear and Three Scars face to face, their shoulders set against each other, eyes locked.

  “You are not ready. It was safer this way,” Three Scars said, the muscles in his back shook, rippled.

  “You are wrong,” Running Bear’s voice grew deeper, more guttural. “She should be in my tent.” His jaw clenched and he stepped closer, eyes half closed, the muscles in his arms rolling, bulging. Running Bear’s chest heaved, his head twitched from side to side, his arms shook. He drew in a deep breath, and he blurred from human to Forest Person, his shoulders jerking, hair appearing everywhere. He roared out something, baring his teeth. I drew in a quick breath and stepped back. Three Scars shifted quickly. The phases Running Bear went through to transform were visible. Three Scars’ phases were seamless, quick, almost instant.

  Three Scars huffed a warning and readied a stance, either to block his brother or to fight, I wasn’t sure which. Running Bear leapt toward him, attacking. Three Scars countered, and the earth quaked beneath my feet, knocking me to the ground. I stood up, glanced around camp and saw Red Hawk and several other warriors running toward them. I stepped back again not sure where to go. I blinked and felt the earth shake again, Running Bear and Three Scars fighting, the warriors shifting, women and children retreating, my heart beating so fast I wanted to run.

  Running Bear roared and lunged for Three Scars. The older brother grabbing the younger around the chest and throwing him to the ground. Running Bear shook his head, huffed and jumped to his feet, and flew toward Three Scars knocking him to the ground. Dirt and earth clumps flew everywhere. I glanced toward the open camp to see it empty aside from the warriors approaching at a dead run.

  Something inside me sn
apped. I breathed out and ran into the open where they could see me. “Stop!” I yelled, but my voice was carried away by the flesh crashing together, the grunts and growls. I cupped my hands to my mouth hoping it would make my voice louder. “Running Bear!” I screamed. He flinched and for a split second looked confused. He glanced to Three Scars and then he quickly surveyed his surroundings. I heard noise behind me, a chorus of guttural sounds. Quickly looking over my shoulder, the entirety of Tore warriors stood behind me in Forest Person form, their collective figures a mass of muscle. I drew in a quick breath and looked directly in front of me. “Running Bear, you have to stop now. This is enough. It’s wrong,” I called out. More grunts and gurgling behind me. Running Bear spotted me, a confused expression on his face, tilting his head, trying to comprehend me, or my words, or maybe my position in the open space. Three Scars glanced at me, a low huff of disapproval floated toward me. “Running Bear, stop, please,” I said again. He blinked and looked at his brother. Three Scars turned, angling his body to quickly block Running Bear from my path. This could go either way. “He’s your brother,” I said. “Your brother,” my voice lower, my eyes looking into his. “And you’re my brother, too.” I put my hands down and tilted my head.

  Silence behind me.

  Three Scars gaze flicked from me to the warriors behind me to Running Bear.

  Running Bear breathed out something like a painful cry, his shoulders relaxed, his chest heaved slightly. He turned and ran into the woods. Something like a sorrowful sob escaping his chest, his form disappeared into the trees, blending in with the shadows, the earth still shaking under my feet. I blinked and looked at Three Scars, an array of emotions hidden in those deep dark eyes. I glanced over my shoulder once more where the army of warriors stood. I let out a quick breath and walked to my warrior. His eyes locked on me the entire twenty steps, and I stopped right in front of him. “Can you shift back now? I think everything’s fine,” I said looking up to him. He squinted his eyes, angry. Glancing to the other warriors, and then back to me, he shook his head. Reaching down he put both hands on my hips and lifted me up, staring into my eyes, his chest still heaving, angry. I placed one hand on his cheek and leaned my head toward his, my face getting closer, our eyes locked, his breath on me. My heart fluttered, drawn to him, pulled to him by some force I didn’t recognize, I inched closer, our lips almost brushing each other.

  He huffed, snarled and tossed me over his shoulder, shifting back to human form in seconds. “You’re impossible, Little Foot,” he said and walked through the line of warriors, some shifting as we passed, others watching in disbelief. I caught a glimpse of Red Hawk as we passed, eyes wide, an astonished look on his face turning into a smile. “You can put me down,” I said, as the blood rushed to my head. “We need to talk,” he stated, his body still shaking from the shift.

  “Yeah, we do,” I said.

  “She’s brave,” one warrior said.

  “No, I think she’s crazy,” someone else replied.

  Dangling over his shoulder I looked up once more. Songbird slipped into the trees, her long hair trailing behind her like a ribbon floating in the wind.

  Chapter 18

  He paced back and forth, shot an angry glance at me, and paced again. “Do you know how completely dangerous that was? What prompted you to do that?” he breathed out, turning to look at me. He turned and paced again. “Unbelievable,” he whispered.

  “It worked though,” I said, and shrugged my shoulders.

  He turned quick. “You could have been attacked.”

  I raised my brows and tilted my head. He was right, but I didn’t think about the possible repercussions, only the fact Three Scars was in danger, and I felt compelled to act.

  “You should go talk to him,” I said.

  He looked at me, incredulous. “What?”

  “This isn’t about me, Three Scars. I think he just wants your respect. I think there’s been friction even before I arrived, and well, you should talk to him.”

  “This is not about me and my brother. This is about you.” He pointed from himself to me. “You are somehow drawn to danger like no one I’ve ever seen. Even approaching me like you did. Little Foot, you don’t know the state of mind we’re in when we fight.” He shook his head again and stared right through me. “If I wouldn’t have controlled myself…” he trailed off and turned away. “And then, you even go further and draw even closer to me,” he finished, and turned to look at me again. The thought of my lips so close to his made my heart beat faster.

  “You knew me, though,” I said.

  “In a situation like that, you can’t count on assumptions,” he said stepping closer.

  “I wasn’t running to danger,” I said.

  “You were running to me…” he finished my sentence. “I don’t know how to make you see.” He closed his eyes like he was reliving it again. I stepped next to him, touching his arm. He looked down, his eyes softening, he breathed out. “I do wonder how you have made it this far. With your stubborn nature and your lack of awareness, it’s a miracle you’re still alive.”

  “Look, you have an entire people who help you. They support you, and you support them. Each has his part and it takes the load off of everyone. A community. Everyone helps. I don’t have that, so I’ve had to become resourceful. Learn to do things a little different. And it works for me. I’m not saying some things aren’t dangerous. They are. But you, Three Scars, you are not one of those things. Not to me. And Running Bear isn’t a threat. His pride is hurt. And that’s easily fixed.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong – he is a threat. You may not think so, but trust me.” He turned away, moving his arm from my touch.

  “No wonder he had us watch you,” he said under his breath.

  I drew in a quick breath.

  “You watched me?” I asked stepping back.

  He turned to face me, his eyes revealing the truth. “He was worried for you. He knew you weren’t afraid of them, but he was afraid for you. The only way to keep you safe from the Forest People was if we were there sometimes running interference.” His eyes were sorrowful, like he was sorry I heard him.

  “Birch asked this of you? He… he didn’t think I could…?” I turned around, facing the tipi flap, not wanting to hear anymore. The center of my chest felt heavy. Unsure of the pressure inside me, the uncertainty, the thoughts rolling and crashing into each other like Three Scars and Running Bear. Hurt seeping into every part of me. The whole of my identity fell into question, and the confidence that was born in me began to wane. I pictured Birch’s leathered face, his easy smile, his encouragement over the years. “Cree, you’re one of a kind,” he’d say. I felt accepted, understood.

  But all of that was a lie.

  I tried to process this. Tried to picture Birch asking the elders to send their warriors to my woods. And they all knew it. From the moment I arrived they knew all about me. I let out a breath. They watched me, knew my ways, studied where I lived and how I lived. And that was why the Forest People stopped coming to my property. No wonder they wanted to speak with me, to make sure I was safe, to take me with them…

  “I have to get out of here,” I said to myself.

  “Little Foot, wait,” he said and lay hold of my arm. I took another step. “Wait,” he said, his voice low. I pulled my arm free and pushed through the tipi opening. “I’m going for a walk,” I said, trying to mask the pain in my voice. Avoiding the camp, skirting the edges, hugging the tree line I walked into the woods. I held my head high. Though my pride was wounded, my dignity refused to surrender. I felt completely betrayed. The hurt seeping into my bones, and I questioned my own abilities. Or what I thought my skills were.

  Like a broken bow, wondering if it still had use.

  Chapter 19

  I drew my knees to my chest, draped my cape over me, and watched the stars above me. I went to the cave Three Scars took me to when I first arrived. I crossed the river and climbed the mountain alone. The terrain was ste
eper than I remembered, and spotted with rocks, but I made it. I kindled a fire at the mouth of the cave and slipped off my wet moccasins to dry by the flames. Though Willow coated them with bear fat they were no match for the deep river. I couldn’t cross it like they did, but I crossed it all the same. Several hours passed, and I needed time to myself. I only wished I brought my bow. I looked up, the heavens sparkling against a clear black night.

  I tried to see how Birch viewed the situation. Initially, I thought he didn’t trust me, or trust my judgement, but Birch was Birch – he had his old mountain ways and held strong to those beliefs. True, he was a legend and knew the forest better than anyone, but still, something about his choice to secretly protect me bothered me deep inside. He told me a story once about how dangerous the forest could be, but he didn’t come right out and say where that danger came from.

  I sighed and leaned back. Maybe it was pride, or a deep sense of independence on my part that caused the offense to my spirit. Maybe I should be grateful someone was there to help me, even if I didn’t know it or want the assistance. If this held true than I needed to reevaluate myself and my actions. I wished Birch were here to talk to and ask the questions directly, so I’d know the truth.

  What kept resurfacing in my mind was the thought of the Tore people knowing my history before I arrived on their land. Clueless about their silent support, and embarrassed, it struck me hard. Perhaps my independence and strong will was a disadvantage now. I didn’t know, but Three Scars hid this knowledge from me, and that tormented me.