by L. E. Waters
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That night I sit at the campfire with Paytah and a few younger boys. I keep forgetting what Paytah told me about Wakinyan and look for her every once in a while among the people passing by. Paytah asks, “Tell me about the battle.”
I start to tell him what I saw when, surprisingly, Hanska appears behind me. “Otaktay wants you to come sit with them.”
My eyes open wide, and I check with Paytah who nods for me to go, but his face drops. I follow Hanska back to the warrior circle and see that Hanska has been given the seat to the right of Otaktay, who sits beside Eyota. I settle down as Reynard finishes an adventure story that makes the chief laugh. One of the council elders to Eyota’s left whispers in his ear and all quiet around the fire. Then he says, “Kohana, the warriors have told of your honorable feat of taking Chayton from the battlefield.” He pauses, studying me, and I watch him quietly. “The elders have decided that you are ready for your spirit walk.”
I can’t believe it. I won’t have to go on another raid! I calm myself and nod to him in thanks. Chase winks at me, and Reynard claps his hands—the only sound overpowering the snaps of the fire. Reynard waits a moment for others to speak and when he hears none, he continues, “So I was crossing the St. Lawrence River…” and his voice flowed until the fire went out.
Three days later, Wakinyan has her women’s celebration. I would have felt completely different about this day had I not become a warrior. But the sky is blue, and the birds sing, and the world is full of such promise. The Great Spirit has indeed been on my side in this timing. I wait until Mother returns with water to say, “Your son is a warrior now.”
She smiles, walks over, and gives me a long hug. “Even though this means you will soon leave me, I am happy for you.” She puts some dried meat in the water over the fire and then says, “Just in time for Wakinyan’s celebration.”
I must have given her a surprised look since it makes her smile. “I see how you follow her around.”
“Do you approve of her?” I ask, not sure if she says no I would even listen.
“Yes, she is a hard worker and will make a good wife for you.” She smiles again and grabs my nose between her thumb and finger. “Just don’t forget all about your old mother once you leave to her camp.”
It’s a hot early-summer day. A day when the children run naked and the adults wear as little as possible. Wakinyan is the only one who wears so much clothing, but she looks beautiful in her white and green beaded dress and thick necklaces. Weayaya places the eagle feather in her hair, and the ceremony begins. As Wakinyan dances to her honoring song, I see the beautiful thunderbird she has beaded all the way across her back. Its wings stretch far to lightning bolts on either side. Not even the most skilled winte could make such an item.
Mato stands expressionless behind them, with his steel eyes fixed on one of the games the younger boys play. Wakinyan’s mother, Zonta, looks on proudly. Later Hanska comes by while I’m watching her dance. He smiles at me. “I have presented Otaktay with six of my best ponies, two guns, and three Ojibwa necklaces.”
“You forgot to add his first wife to that list.” I laugh.
“Well, he has kept all of them. I just went by and saw that they have been taken in.” He punches my arm hard. “I told you I would win her.”
“But does she choose you?” Thinking of the way she looks at Chase.
He shrugs. “It doesn’t matter if she chooses me or not. It is Otaktay’s decision to make.”
“I heard it was best to have a girl choose you. That way, she is sure to stay with you later.”
“She will stay with me. I’m not worried about that.” And he gets up to walk away but pauses to say, “You should stop wasting your time courting Wakinyan and spend more time stealing ponies for Mato.”
I playfully throw a rock at him and hit him in the back. He’s right though. I have little to offer at this point. Apawi distracts me by coming and sitting beside me, shivering under his thick buffalo robe as the rest of us sweat.
Apawi is beginning to grow on me.
Chapter 12
Days later, I wake before the sun and gather nothing for my spirit walk. I decide to head to my most sacred place. I take the long way to tire me. When I reach the cliff and imagine Wakinyan standing, watching lightning in the warm rain, I know this would be the spot I’ll see my vision. I sit cross-legged on the cliff and close my eyes, as I try to have some defining moment.
Nothing.
My stomach growls. I open my eyes and look out over the river valley below. I don’t feel anything. That night, I go under the rock crevice where Wakinyan and I sought shelter, and I wish I were there with her instead of waiting for the Great Spirit to bestow a vision on me. When I awake, my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth, and I have barely enough spit to free it. I think about how long I can live without water and realize I might have only a day or two more. Will I pretend to have a vision in order to return or should I wait for it even if it kills me?
By midday, I can’t sit in the hot sun any longer, and I look to the nearest shade. Up at the top of the rocks, on the cliff, stands a massive pine tree with its roots growing out of the boulders. It looks like a spot I might finally see a vision, and I use all my strength to climb up. The air is much cooler under the tree and, sitting in the burnt-orange pine needles, I watch as a falcon screams across the sky.
Nothing.
After some hours, I lie down and look up at the pattern of tree limbs repeating up to no end. I can no longer swallow without saliva, and I don’t even feel hungry anymore. The tree limbs begin to spin, and I bring my hands down on either side to brace myself.
“Kohana!” Someone calls from below. I sit up weakly; the sky still spins. There, on the cliff, stands Father.
“Father!” I yell, trying to move down from the top of the rock to him.
He quickly brings his hands up. “No, Kohana. You must remain still.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. “You are my vision.”
He changes into an old, white man with sea-glass eyes.
“Father?”
The man shakes his head. “My name is Zachariah. I am your guide.”
“I have a paleface for a guide?”
Zachariah smiles. “I don’t have time to explain everything, but I am a good friend.”
Something about him does soothe me. “What is it that you will show me?”
“What do you want to know?”
“Where is the Great Spirit?”
Zachariah lifts his arms up to the big sky, brings them out around him, and turns around slowly.
Disappointed in that, I sigh. “Will I do great things and bring honor to my people?”
Zachariah pauses for a moment. “You will do important things and bring honor to the Great Spirit.”
“What can you show me to help me on my path?”
“You must remember that rage helps no one. You must learn to accept and forgive.”
I’m confused. “I have no rage. Why do you say that?”
“You must remember that for the future.” He begins to walk away but turns abruptly. “Oh, and remember the child.”
“What child?”
But he walks back down the cliff.
I get on my knees and scream, “That is it? That is all you will show me?”
“That is all I can show you.” He yells back without turning around as he walks away.
“Wait!” I try, as he begins to fade. “You forgot to give me my medicine!”
He’s gone. The sky stops spinning in the background and turns black from the edges until everything before me darkens. Something crashes by my side. I realize I’m now on my back, and I open my eyes.
“Kaaaaa!” something croaks on my right.
Chapter 13
I look down and see a raven crouched in the soft pine ground. I sit up, still lightheaded, and try to shoo it with my hand. It crouches down even further, and I notice the brownish tint
to its feathers. This is a fledgling and must have fallen from a nest. I glance up in the tree and see a large bunch of twigs and feathers up above between two thick branches. Two small, long-beaked faces caw back. I grab a stick and try to poke it to see if it’s injured, and the raven leans forward to snip at the stick end. I drop the stick and put my hands to my face, thinking of my bad vision. When I look back at the raven, I laugh, seeing it staring at me, its head cocked. I get up to scoot down the rock, and the little thing hops forward after me. I try to shoo him back and slide down the side back to the ground. The black bird hops to the edge of the rock, hunches down, spreads its wings like it’s going to fly but instead flaps wildly, falling over the side and tumbling to the ground. I jump to try to catch the bird, but it falls too fast.
“You are one crazy bird.” I scoff and turn to walk down to the river, desperate for a drink. The bird tries to get up to hop, but it has a limp now. I stop and scratch my head. I should leave him and let nature be, but something about the way it looks at me makes me walk back to him. It crouches down tight again when I go to grab him and flails its scaly, good leg in the air until I tuck him in the curve of my arm. I pick up an earthworm on the way and dangle it over its head. He begs in high-pitched peeps, and I drop the worm into his eager mouth.
Is this part of my vision?
I walk back into camp, practically drooling at the aroma of meat cooking. I go right to my mother and hand her the raven.
“What is this?” She asks as she quickly rearranges the bird on her lap. I stuff three pieces of dried meat in my mouth and swallow it half-chewed but she chides, “You must eat slowly after you have starved or you will get sick.”
I put down the sack of meat. “This fell from the tree I had my vision under, and it has a hurt leg.”
She picks up the dark lump and looks at the one flailing leg and the other coiled up tight. “Yes, I see.”
“It would not let me leave it, and it cannot fly yet.” My stomach gnaws for more meat.
Weayaya comes and sits between us. Mother turns away since daughters-in-law never make eye contact with their fathers-in-law. He looks excited to see me. “So tell me of your vision.”
I hate how anxious he seems to hear it. I take another meat piece and try to think of a way to tell it so it sounds better. “I saw my father.”
Weayaya sits back and smiles.
“And he called my name as the blue sky spun around him.”
He nods. “A symbol that life keeps on going. The circle is always spinning.”
I feel more confident with this. “Then he turned into a paleface—”
Weayaya looks confused. “Chase or Reynard?”
“No, an old pale face. One I have never seen before.”
Weayaya seems puzzled but listens for more.
“But at the same time, I felt as though I did know him.” I start talking faster, feeling insecure again. “He told me his name was Zachariah and that he was a good friend. He asked if I had any questions. I asked if I would do great things and honor my people.”
Weayaya appears interested.
“He said I would do important things and honor the Great Spirit.”
Weayaya smiles. “That sounds very promising, even coming from a paleface.” He laughs, making me relax a little. “Go on.”
“I asked about my path, and the guide told me to remember that rage helps no one and that I must learn to forgive.”
Weayaya squints and pulls back slightly, deep in thought.
“He said I must remember it for the future.”
He remains quiet.
“He then told me to remember the child.”
“What child?” Weayaya asks.
I shake my head. “He would not say.”
“Remember the child.” He says to himself slowly. “That is a wise vision.”
“But then he just walked away without giving me my medicine.”
Mother says to me, without looking at grandfather, “Yet, this raven fell from the tree he was lying under as his vision ended.”
Weayaya chuckles, looking at the raven in her hands. “That is your medicine, Kohana.”
“How is that my medicine?” I stare at the fat little fledgling in Mother’s calloused fingers, staring up at me with its golden eyes.
“Nothing is unplanned with the Great Spirit. This bird was meant to fall to you.” Weayaya looks closer at its eyes. “I’ve never seen a raven with golden eyes. This must be sacred.”
“How do I use it for my medicine?”
He pulls up with a slight groan and puts his hand calmly on my shoulder. “That is for you to find out.” Then he walks away.
I turn back to Mother. “What should we do with it now?”
Mother brings the raven up to her face as it caws softly and then cocks its head to look at her. She smiles. “With all things and in all things, we are relatives.” And I watch her take little pieces of boiled meat and gently push them down into the raven’s eager mouth. She laughs. “Do you know many Lakota believe the raven is bad luck near a teepee?” She lets the raven nip her softly on the finger. “If a raven caws from the top of your teepee someone will die within days.”
I laugh. “Well, we should be sure to keep it from our teepee.”
“The raven is revered for its great survival skills. Yes. He will bring you good medicine.”
Chapter 14
The camps disbanded while I was in search of my vision, so I have to leave for Wakinyan’s camp before sunset. As I’m throwing my large buffalo blanket over my shoulder, Mother holds the raven out. “You will need your medicine.”
I laugh at the thought of bringing the bird with me for courting, but she persists. “This just might get her attention.”
I reach out for the smooth feathered body, and it flaps its wings as I perch it on my shoulder on its good leg.
“She would be a fool not to come out to you.” She gives me a kiss.
I walk by Hanska’s tent, and I’m surprised to see Mika putting a skinned rabbit on the spit over his fire.
“Mika?”
She nods, smiling slightly, but she has a strange look to her. She appears dulled in some way. She then sees my bird and beams instantly.
“What is this?” She coos as she walks over with her hand out.
The bird flaps its wings for balance as she strokes the purplish-black feathers on its breast.
“It is my medicine.”
When she laughs hard, her nose scrunches up sweetly. “And no better medicine could you ever find.”
She seems captivated by this sudden happiness, and the bird is calmed by her attention. “You took Hanska?”
She nods as if she doesn’t want to ruin the moment by being reminded. “Hanska took me.”
I sigh. “Well, I am off to try to win Wakinyan.”
She smiles and turns to me. “She is already won, Kohana.”
My eyebrows pinch together and my smile disappears, but she laughs so hard she has to step back. “No, I mean you have already won her.” A rush goes through my body as her words hit me since she must know what is in Wakinyan’s heart. “You only have to convince Mato now.”
I just want to turn to go, and she must have seen that since she gives the raven one last touch, withdraws her hand, and says, “Go to her now, but I want you to come back with your little shadow tomorrow.”
“Shadow—Nagi. I like that.” I pat its large-beaked head. “That is what your name is.”
She smiles and goes back to her work as I walk to the next camp as fast as I can without upsetting Nagi. I arrive as the brilliant red sun disappears and the circle fire is lit for dance. The older squaws dance tonight, and I stand in the background watching Wakinyan sit with her mother across the way. She doesn’t seem to see me, though, since she never looks in my direction. After many dances, they get up to retire to their teepee. I follow behind at a good distance and sit outside their teepee door. I first try to concentrate on calling her out silently, focus on pulling he
r from the teepee with my mind. Minutes pass, and an old woman walks by, snickering at me sitting there on my buffalo blanket with my raven sleeping on my shoulder. Nagi flaps his wings and caws so loudly at the disturbance that the teepee flap lifts to show Wakinyan’s smiling face. The teepee flap falls again and I think she isn’t going to come out, but then two moccasined feet pop out, eager to come to me. I move so fast it upsets Nagi again as I pull the buffalo blanket out from underneath me and clumsily drape it over my back. She looks at Nagi with nervous curiosity.
“This is my medicine. Nagi fell to me after my vision.”
“How beautiful.”
“Would you like to hold him?” I ask, already getting him to hop on my finger, but she shakes her head quickly. I decide to put him down on the ground so I can get the blanket over my head. Nagi is upset by being on the ground and hops around cawing loudly.
Before I can get the blanket over her head, she says, “Let us go down by the river.”
I pick up Nagi and follow. Her eagle feather shines in the moonlight. The dense brush sparkles with eager fireflies, and the tree frogs sing in desperate chorus. When we stop, I try to get the blanket over our heads, and she laughs and lies down on the ground. I throw the blanket down then and lie back so I can see the stars too. She makes me feel better by moving slowly over onto my blanket beside me. Nagi also hops over, slightly perturbed, and nests in the nook between my shoulder and neck.
“Tell me all about your vision,” she says out of the darkness.
As I watch the stars, I tell her the whole thing.
“You had a paleface for your guide?” She laughs.