by L. E. Waters
Eyota speaks, “I light the peace pipe to smoke with my old and trusted friend.”
Apawi guffaws, rolling back and forth on the ground. The Chief, who only allows a Heyota to insult him, smokes and passes the pipe to Reynard first.
Reynard pushes the girls off to free his hands and holds the pipe up. “Thank you to everyone for welcoming me home.”
Apawi, of course, laughs at this the hardest and slams his hand on the ground. After smoking and passing the pipe to Chase, Reynard lifts his knee up slightly in Apawi’s direction and breaks wind. “Now that’s something to laugh at.”
Apawi is not amused, and quiet comes over the circle. The trappers break out in sputtered laughter, and Reynard lifts his large head to the ceiling, rolling it back and forth to contain his outburst. Everyone else smokes in silence and, as soon as Apawi takes the pipe, he coughs dramatically until he hands it on.
I decide to leave to see if I can find Wakinyan. I go straight to her teepee and see two women sitting outside talking. One quickly points to me staring at them and I run off. I walk by every teepee, trying to find her but don’t even see Mika anywhere. Girls usually don’t go far from camp without their mothers. Then I hear a great splash and a girl laughing.
I know where I will find them.
I creep up behind the cottonwoods growing by the river and try to watch without them seeing me. I hear many girls’ and boys’ voices. The children dive under the shimmering black water and pop up, surprising each other. I have never wished more than I do now that I liked to swim.
I move to sit down behind the tree, and Mika hears me. “Who is spying on us?”
She tries to see where I am, yet since the moon is but a sliver, it gives off little light. From where I’m sitting, I can only see the water shining off their dark hair and shoulders. I’m starting to memorize Wakinyan’s shape and size. I can pick her out every time she runs out of the water and goes jumping back in with a huge splash. When I see one of the taller boys pick her up and carry her, giggling, out of the water with her arms wrapped around his neck, I quickly decide to jump in. I hit the water with great force, and the coolness does feel good on this hot night. When I come up, someone swims near me, their face dark with the moon behind them. I hear Mika say, “Hard to recognize you without the canoe.”
Another head emerges from below, and I can see it’s Wakinyan. She laughs and says, “We will have to find another name then.”
“My name is Kohana.”
Mika bursts out laughing. “Not in the water!” she replies, and dives back down.
Wakinyan laughs, and I stare at her but can’t think of anything to say. After the quiet moment, she just pushes off toward Mika. When I see the older boy swim after her, I decide to follow them too. Mika and Wakinyan throw themselves on top of the boy and try to push him back under the water. He grabs Mika and launches her through the air as she lets out a yelp. Then he picks up Wakinyan and jumps, taking her under with him. When they resurface, she paddles away from him. As he tries to plunge after her, I jump on top of him, taking both of us under. He comes up, spitting water, and says to Mika, “Who’s this?”
“We flipped his canoe.” She looks to Wakinyan. “This is the second night he’s come.”
“Oh, so he’s suddenly interested in our camp then?” A white smile glows from the darkness of his face.
“Interested in Wakinyan’s teepee.” Mika spurts in laughter as Wakinyan tries to push her under before she says more.
The boy laughs as well, and as soon as Mika comes up, he picks her up and carries her to the bank, away from us. Wakinyan looks uncomfortable and seems to struggle for something to say.
She dives down, disappearing, only to pop up on my shoulders and pushes me into the water. Her skin is so warm on my back that it sends chills up my arms. I try to do just what I saw the boy do, and I lift her up and throw her out into the water. She comes back up smiling and wiping the water from her eyes. I pray secretly she will return to let me do it again, but she paddles off to Mika and the boy.
A tall form calls out from the bank, “Kohana!”
“Hanska?”
“Are you in the water?”
“Yes,” I say, hoping he won’t say anything embarrassing.
“You never go swimming.”
And it was too late.
I hear the girls laugh, and the boy replies, “He does when Wakinyan’s in the water!”
I have had enough and start to walk out to Hanska. “Is Mika in there too?”
I nod, and he dives in immediately. Hanska, older and taller than the boy, quickly takes his place swimming with Mika. The boy drifts back to the other boys. I sit on the mossy ground, watching and waiting until Hanska is ready to go home. Perhaps displaced by Hanska’s attention to Mika, Wakinyan gets out of the water. It almost hurts to look at her wringing the water from her hair. She reminds me of the swans I’ve seen preening their feathers. I could watch her all day. She steps into her skirt and calls to Mika that she is going to bed. Once she is gone, there is no reason to stay. I yell to Hanska, “I’m going back to camp, with or without you.”
I turn and go right by her teepee, but the fire is out and the teepee is dark. Hanska is suddenly next to me, and we walk back soundlessly, trying not to draw attention from the wolves.
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Two days later, I bring three rabbits back to Mother early and have time before it gets dark, so I walk over to the other camp alone. I sit under the cottonwoods near her teepee and wait, concealed behind the high grasses. She appears, dragging a large stag to her teepee. Her mother takes the skin off in one piece, and Wakinyan goes to stretch it. They work together, cutting the meat away and, when her mother leaves to cook it, Wakinyan searches the ground. With her braids pulled back, she walks around all the teepees in the area. Grinning, she pounces on something and puts it in the fringed pouch tied at her side. After a few more finds, I realize she’s collecting beads that have fallen off clothing while the owners performed chores or danced in celebration.
Something rustles in the brush next to me, and I tense. The thing pops his head up, searches around wide-eyed and then disappears again.
Apawi.
He reappears, closer, and stares at Wakinyan, only to pop back down again. I know he is mocking my sneaking around, so I grab a heavy rock near my foot and aim it right for his hunched back. A great scream peals out as it makes contact, drawing the attention of the people nearby. Wakinyan spins from her searching to watch the dramatic clown crawl out on hands and knees, rubbing his back, crying with great exaggeration. I seem to be making a fool of myself wherever I go. I step out of the grasses and see Wakinyan’s face go from puzzlement to understanding the clown’s actions.
Her mother comes around at this time and says, “Daughter, help me hang the meat to dry now.”
She walks away, obeying her mother, and I leave to go back to mine. As I pass by Apawi, still on the ground, he gives me a mischievous smile, so I throw another little rock at him.
Over the next few days, I decide to keep away from the other camp. Instead, I search the ground of our camp and fill a small buffalo horn cup with beads. I can hardly wait until sunset when I can run to the other camp with my hand covering the horn to keep the mix of colored beads from spilling. Afraid of being caught sneaking up again, I go directly to the teepee and see her mother standing by the outdoor fire. She notices me right away and gives me a hard-to-read look, her eyebrows pinched together and her lips tight. I quickly bend over, place the little cup by the entrance to the teepee and dart off into the grasses.
I stay to watch as her mother slowly goes over to see what I have brought. Her face spreads with a big smile. She takes the beads inside the teepee and immediately Wakinyan steps back out to scan the spot where I hid before and, on her tiptoes, she searches the camp for me. Not finding me, she goes back inside, and I turn to go home before it gets too dark.
Chapter 5
As I�
�m walking around the camp searching for more beads, I haven’t noticed that I walk right by my grandfather. He says, “Many only look forward, but it is the wise man who looks to the skies and where he places his foot.”
I run over to where he’s sitting in the grasses with his white long hair billowing in the wind and his wrinkled face to the sun. He throws dry dirt into each sacred direction. I sit down beside him as he closes his eyes and is quiet for a moment. He opens his eyes. “Kohana, usually the father gives his family his medicine for protection. But since he has left this world and you are going to be raiding soon yourself, I will give to you my medicine until you are old enough to find your own.”
“Grandfather, why can’t I use my father’s medicine still?” I show him the little sack I carry in a small pouch on my knife belt.
He takes a deep breath, and in his low, calm voice he says, “Even though your father was a brave warrior who died protecting his people, it is looked upon as bad medicine that such a fate befell him.”
I study the little bag that I watched my father fill with the ashes of a rabbit’s paw.
He continues, “We will burn this right here in this hole, and I will give my powerful medicine for you, your brother and your mother to wear.”
His old, cracked, red hands scrape into the dark soil. He puts his open palm out for the bag and a part of me wants to hold onto one of the things left by my father, but I know I have to trust Weayaya. He places the pouch in the hole then takes a stick from the fire next to him and lights the bag with the eager flame. Once it’s burning, he takes three pouches out of a beaded bag on his side and places them in my hand.
“What is your medicine?” I ask.
He smiles, which makes his high cheekbones get round and lines crinkle around the mole beside his eye.
“It changes whenever I have a new vision. But for now, it is the powder made from an elk heart.”
“When will I get my medicine vision?”
“When you become a full warrior you can go have your vision quest, and the Great Spirit will show you your medicine. If it is strong, then it will protect you from bullets, arrows, disease…everything.” He nods. “But for now you will have mine.”
He then closes his eyes again and sings a song of prayer. Taking his two eagle feathers in either hand, he moves the smoke around in spirals, sending it in different directions.
I know he wants to be alone and have taken a few steps away to tie my bag back on when I hear a strange shuffling. After completing the knot, I look up to see Apawi staring at me. He grins way too wide and, taking a pouch hanging from his hair, dangles it in front of his face, going crossed-eyed as he watches it. I go to turn away from him, but he reaches out and stops me. “I have powerful medicine. You can sense mine from far away.”
He opens the little pouch enough to fit his finger in and pulls it back out slowly like every bit is precious. Yearning to know what medicine he has, I let him bring it up to my face but immediately recognize the smell and pull away from his grasp. Apawi snorts with laughter and dips into the medicine bag again to spread the buffalo dung across his forehead like a warrior. He runs away from me backwards, still cackling as he watches my disgust. I can’t understand how the tribe reveres him and regards him to be sacred.
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Feeling brave with Weayaya’s good medicine, I leave for Wakinyan’s camp as soon as my supper is finished. Halfway there, I watch a dark sky come from the northwest, coming to break the heavy heat of the day. I try to get to their camp before the storm hits; lightning is a very dangerous thing on the prairies. All the birds return to their roosts for cover, and not a sound can be heard but a distant rumbling. My legs become itchy from the long grasses sweeping my skin and, as soon as I reach Wakinyan’s teepee, I have to bend down to scratch them. All of the women tie the flaps of their teepees closed—all except one. Wakinyan’s mother calls outside in every direction for Wakinyan. I run over and ask, “Do you want me to go find her?”
She gives me a sweet smile. I have never seen a Lakota with such rosy cheeks. “That is kind of you, boy, but I know where she is.”
“Where is she?”
“She is named Wakinyan for a reason.” She lets her arms fall to her sides. “She goes out like this every time a storm is in the air.”
The grey clouds loom darker, making it seem like night although the sun had not yet set. “Do you know where she goes? I can try to bring her home.”
She laughs. “You can try. She likes to go up to the highest place to watch the storm come in.”
I nod and squint, trying to figure out which is the highest elevation around their camp and dash off as soon as it hits me. The air stills, which is always a sign the storm is almost upon you. Coming up the ridge where the hunters chase the buffalo over, I spy her lean shape looking out over the dark valley. The wind picks up furiously, and her skirt and hair start to billow. She hears me coming and, at first, appears scared at the intrusion but then, seeing it’s only me, she smiles slightly and then checks back to the storm.
“Your mother is worried. You must come back with me.”
She shakes her head. “Look at that grey mist. It is the rain coming toward us.”
A strange fog comes, blurring everything in the distance and then I can hear it, like a rushing river in the spring. She squeals. “It’s almost here!”
I have never seen someone so excited by a storm. I try to pull her by the shoulders, but she rolls them and moves away from me. “I’m not afraid. I always watch storms. If you are scared, then you go back.”
She gives me a challenging stare with her dizzying eyes. and I can’t go now for anything in the world. Do that, and she’d think I’m a coward. The mist is right in front of the cliff, and we can smell the moisture just moments before we step into the cloudburst. Instantly, we’re soaked, and we both bring our arms up to catch the rain in our hands. The large drops pound our tan skin and makes rivers down the creases of our bodies. She is happier than I’ve ever seen her as she spins around. I open my mouth wide to catch all the cold drops, and she laughs and copies me. Our games are stopped by a close bolt of lightning, followed by an ear-splitting crack of thunder. She laughs as I jump at the sound, and I quickly pull her under a nearby rock ledge.
It’s just big enough to fit her small frame and mine. Since we can still watch the storm coming, she stays, and since it’s too dangerous to run now, I stay too. Even though the storm is beautiful, watching Wakinyan watching the storm is far more so. I watch as the drips of rain run from her dark hair down her cheeks to her chin, or off her straight nose to land on her thick pink lips. She doesn’t even notice me staring since she is so enthralled by the lightning flashes. The air under the rock smells sweet from the water steaming off our warm bodies, and my knee tingles where it touches hers. I feel so safe and happy under there with her. I could have stayed there all night and, even though we watch the whole storm sweep across the valley, it’s far too short a time when she begins to crawl out.
“Where are you going?” I ask foolishly.
She looks at me, still crouched, before standing up. “The sun has set while the storm raged. It is dangerous for me to be out in the dark.”
“But not in a storm,” I half joke and she laughs, but I hear no reply.
“But I am here with you?” I attempt to keep her with me, but she just laughs again and starts back down toward camp. I quickly crawl out and run until I’m beside her.
“Well, then, I will walk you back. Your mother asked me to protect you.”
She stares at me with laughter in her eyes. “You are very brave.”
I quicken my pace to get in front of her, but she keeps increasing her pace until we’re both running at high speed. The grasses are as tall as we are and, as we run, all I can see is her black, shiny head bobbing up and down near me. We put our hands out and flap them like wings, sending all of the rain dripping down in strings off our arms. She looks at me, smiles, an
d I yell, “Is this the fastest you can go?”
She smiles and screams back, “I am as fast as you!”
I smile back, bring my arms in, and go twice as fast. I hear her scream from way behind me, “Someday I will make you moccasins that will slow you down, Kohana!”
Her laughter bounces along the prairie to me. I reach the edge of her village and wait for her, but she runs right past me. As soon as she reaches her teepee, her mother unties the flap and pokes her head out to scold Wakinyan.
“Crazy girl, come in at once.” Wakinyan removes her soaked skirt and hangs it on the rack outside and steps inside the dark teepee. Her mother turns to me. “What do they call you?”
“Kohana,” I say, bent over, trying to catch my breath.
“Thank you for watching out for her. She does not know yet the danger that comes from being out alone.” I know she is talking about the men who are always waiting for a young maiden to be by herself. “Kohana, you are welcome here.” She gives a quick nod and then closes the flap again.
All the way home and into the night I replay the time under the rock, afraid even one memory will disappear or lessen. When the light comes shining into the teepee, I already feel as though our moment in the rain is so far away. In the month when All Things Ripen, thunderstorms rip through practically every day to break the heat. No matter where I am or what I’m doing, if I hear one rumble I grab my bow and arrow, jump onto one of my father’s ponies, and speed out to the ridge. Leaving the pony in the brush, I sneak up to watch her stand to the storm. I never make a noise or let her know I’m there, for I’m afraid she’d pick a different spot to go to, where she can be alone.
One time, I hear some rustling in the grasses and, sure enough, an older boy emerges, his eyes intent on Wakinyan. I immediately throw rocks in his direction, and he glares to see me, just a young boy. He still takes stealthy steps toward her so I bring my bow up and release an arrow straight at him. It curves slightly as it comes near him, landing in the grass, but since he is weaponless he puts his hands up and steps back. After he is gone, I look back at Wakinyan who doesn’t seem phased in the slightest while her storm roars. When the storm subsides, I collect my arrow and walk quietly behind her, making sure she arrives back at her mother’s teepee. Her mother comes back out after Wakinyan goes inside. She searches for me and, upon seeing me, nods in thanks.