by Zoe Saadia
“Was he a leader?”
“Oh, yes, he was our War Chief for, oh, summers upon summers. He was so very great!”
“How did he die?”
The spasm in his stomach was back, as violent as always. “He died on your side of the Great Lake. He was shot… shot by a wandering arrow.” Swallowing, he tried to control his voice, which began trembling again, most annoyingly at that. His father’s story was worthy of a sterner voice. “If he had lived, we would win this battle. He always won.”
He listened to the wind, now welcoming its unwavering strength. His father’s spirit might have been there, in this fierce, groaning force; listening, maybe.
“That was when you were taken captive?”
“Yes.”
“How old were you?”
“I saw fifteen summers back then.” He swallowed so hard it hurt his throat. “I… I shouldn’t have let it happen. I should have died like a warrior. He trusted me to do that, but I failed.”
“I wouldn’t judge you too fast.” The man’s voice held no amusement this time, a trace of compassion in it obvious. “You were a mere boy back then, and you are still too young to be a true warrior. You have a long journey ahead of you, and you may still make your father proud.”
His vision was blurred, and he felt grateful for the darkness now. If only his voice would stop trembling!
“I won’t have this chance. Even if I don’t die in the next few dawns, I won’t be given the opportunity to turn into a great warrior. No one trusts me here. No leader would be willing to take me in his raiding party.”
“Well, it will be more difficult for you, yes. But not impossible. You will have to try harder than the rest, but if you are strong and believe in yourself and your destiny, you will make it.” A shrug. “Maybe this incident will do you good in the long run. It might make you grow up, it might teach you to control your temper, it might make you change your ways.” The amusement crept back into the deep voice. “But tell me something else. What if one of the leaders invites you to come along, allowing you to join his raiding party? Will you enjoy raiding your former people’s lands? Will you feel good laying waste to your father’s town?”
He felt it like a blow in his stomach, and for a moment, his heart stopped. “I… I don’t know. I didn’t think…”
“Can they trust you not to run away the moment you crossed the Great Lake?”
He cupped his face with his palms. “No, I suppose not,” he whispered, his heart beating fast.
Oh, Mighty Spirits! Here was the solution, the wonderful, beautiful, perfect solution! How didn’t he think about it before? He felt the blood rushing into his cheeks, his heart pumping insanely, as though trying to jump out of his chest. Taking a deep breath, he tried to control his voice.
“Yes, they can trust me. Of course, they can. I would never do something like that. I belong to Wyandot people now. Not to my former people.” He took another breath, pleased with the way it came out. “I was adopted formally. There is no way back from this.”
Had he taken it too far? The laughter of the man broke the silence, a hearty, amused laughter.
“Oh Mighty Spirits, I’m afraid I just gave you an idea, wolf cub!”
Tekeni fought an urge to cover his burning cheeks. “No, you did not. I’m telling you, I would never do this.” He peered at the man, seeing the outline of the well-defined profile, the high forehead, the long, aquiline nose, the shaved sides of the head with an oiled hair sticking up proudly, fluttering in the wind. The warriors’ hairdo. “You have to believe me,” he added, desperately.
“Do I?” The man turned his head, and even in the darkness, the amused spark in the large eyes was obvious. “You said I’m a wise person, great orator and all. Do you think you can fool me that easily? Oh no, boy. You are as transparent as the waters of the lake on the fine summer day. It is so easy to see through you. You are almost shining now, your desperation gone. You’ve been given a plan.” His teeth flashing in the widening grin, the man shook his head. “But it’s a difficult plan that will require an enormous amount of patience. More than you indicated as having so far. A lot of time, a lot of effort, a lot of convincing to do on your part. A lot of impeccable behavior. Maybe you would be able to pull it through, maybe not. Or maybe you would change with the passing of summers while you go about implementing your plan, and then you will find yourself in a real trouble, torn between two ways of life, with too many loyalties to keep.”
“I will not do any of this,” muttered Tekeni stubbornly, wishing to be alone more than anything now. He had so much to think about, all of a sudden. “I wish I could convince you of that.”
“Oh, you don’t have to convince me of anything. I won’t be running to the Town Council, informing them of our conversation. You are an interesting boy, and I will be watching you, but not in an attempt to catch you doing something wrong. I’m curious to know what will come out of you now. Should you decide to pursue this goal, battling the odds in trying to turn into a perfect warrior, whether to truly help our people or to make your escape easier, I’ll be enjoying watching this story unfold. It will be too interesting to miss, regardless the ending.” He sprang to his feet, swift and strong, a slender man of an average height, but a perfect hunter and warrior, nevertheless. “I will try to help you out with your current predicament as best as I can. You made me curious, wolf cub, whether you represent your fierce former country folk or not. You gave me food for thought. I will repay you for this by helping you out.”
Strong and imposing, the man shook his head, turning around and diving into the darkness, his paces making no sound. One moment there, the next gone. A true warrior.
Tekeni let his breath out. His head reeled, and the excitement was bubbling too near the surface, making him want to scream into the wind. Or maybe to whoop with joy. The meaningless existence was over. He had a plan, and he would work hard implementing it. He would not let anything stop him now, anything at all.
It wouldn’t be easy, said Two Rivers, and a man of his caliber would know. Still, he would manage to do that. He already felt stronger, a man with direction, a man with a plan. Not a pitiful cub of no importance, dragging along purposelessly. Not anymore!
He grinned into the wind. And Two Rivers thought he could actually make it. He said so himself. He said he would be watching.
Chapter 5
The heat was unmerciful, softened only a little by the breeze coming from the hills. Seketa wiped her brow. Glancing at the sky once again, she wished the sun would move faster. Today, of all days, she didn’t want to be in the field. She needed to go back to the town, to see what was happening.
The Town Council had not arrived at a conclusion last night. They refused to discuss the matter any further until the news on Yeentso and his condition would be more definite. The fate of the Wolf Clan boy would remain undecided until then.
Oh, how furious the Mothers of the Beaver Clan were. Huddling in the shadows behind the corner of her longhouse, trying to hear it all, appalled with herself for doing the unspeakable, Seketa remembered how her heart beat faster and faster, louder and louder, threatening to give her presence away.
Why she had done this, she didn’t know. To eavesdrop on the Honorable Mothers of her clan was the peak of bad manners, a terrible discourtesy, behavior screaming against her entire upbringing.
She bit her lips and welcomed the pain, never before suspecting what a horrible person she was. Still, she did not leave, but stayed in her barely hidden place, listening to the leading women talking in anger, about the stubbornness and the arrogance of the men in general, and the Town Council members in particular.
Nothing was said about the savages from across the Great Sparkling Water, but their anger germinated from there, a fruit of their frustration with the despicable enemies and the wild boy who would not fit no matter how many chances he had been offered.
She remembered last night and the conversation in the storage room of the Wolf Clan’s l
onghouse. He didn’t seem wild or dangerous back then. Quiet, wary, aggressive in a defensive way. Cornered. But not submissive, not humbled or defeated. He should have been looking this way, but for some reason, he had not. Instead, his eyes blazed with anger, and his lips told her he wanted Yeentso dead. Even though it would mean his own death, too. What temper! And what pride. But what courage, too. Such an honorable way to face one’s own deeds.
Frowning, she took her gaze away from the sky. If forced to die, he would do so with honor. He would not shame himself by begging for mercy, not him. He would go proudly, and his eyes would sparkle, and his back would be straight, unyielding.
Aware of her burning cheeks, she knelt to pull the weeds from the nearest pile in the earth. The next moon they’d be gathering the first crop of the sweet, early corn, preparing it for the Green Corn ceremony, the second most important ceremony of the whole cycle of seasons. There would be solemn rituals, bountiful feasts, merry festivities and sacred and social dances, lasting from dawn to dusk, for many, many dawns. Oh, how she loved this particular ceremony!
Would he still be alive by that time? Would he be allowed to participate in the social activities? Would he be there, watching her dancing?
“I wish it were already past midday.” Tindee’s voice jerked Seketa back from her thoughts, tossing her into the sweat-soaked reality of the heat and the buzzing insects. “I’m so tired!”
Seketa sighed. “I know. The sun is moving slower for me today, too.”
“Why would it move slower for you, sister? You did nothing last night. We waited for you behind the tobacco plots, but you never came.”
“Oh, well,” Seketa frowned, feeling her cheeks beginning to glow anew. “I didn’t feel like smoking. I was tired.”
Tindee’s laughter rolled between the stacks of maize, trilling prettily. “We did more than just smoking, you lazy lump of meat. I told you not to miss it, but you didn’t listen.”
“What did you do?”
“Why would I tell you?”
Seketa laughed. “Because you always tell me, whether I want to listen or not.” She picked up her basket. “Also, if it was such a good pastime, maybe I’ll come tonight.”
“We won’t be doing it tonight. We need to sleep, all of us. I’m telling you, it was way after midnight, when I came back, and I had to sneak past grandmother’s compartment like a real forest mouse.”
“They didn’t hear you?”
“No. Not even my mother, who sleeps next to me.” The girl eyed the ripening ears of maize wistfully, running her fingers along one such. “I wish it were good for eating already. I’m starving.” She looked up, her eyes glittering, full of mischief. “My brother told me this morning that he saw me sneaking in, but he won’t tell on me. Not him. I know too many things about him and that girl from the Wolf Clan’s longhouse. Until he makes her his woman, he will not dare to anger me.”
Wolf Clan!
“I wish I knew what they decided to do about yesterday’s game.”
Tindee’s snort was loud, full of meaning. “Why would you worry about that? I don’t care for Yeentso. He is rude and violent, and he is always looking at me as though he would want to do dirty things. And I don’t care for the foreign boy, either. Another violent good-for-nothing. This town will be better off without both of them, come to think of it.”
For some reason, Tindee’s words hurt.
“This boy is not rude and not violent. He is nice, actually. And he didn’t hit Yeentso for no reason. We couldn’t see, but Yeentso was the one to attack him first.” Uncomfortable under the widening gaze of her friend, Seketa frowned. “Yes, it was like that. I know it now.”
“How do you know? Who told you?”
“The foreign boy.”
Tindee’s eyes grew to enormous proportions. “You talked to this boy? When?”
“Yesterday.” She pulled at another bunch of weeds. “It was in the evening, for a short time.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I just met him, by mistake.”
“And you stopped to talk to him? You? I don’t believe it!”
“Why not?” Seketa clenched her teeth, furious with herself for confiding in her chatty friend. She knew perfectly well why not.
“You are the most unapproachable human being that the Right-Handed Twin has ever created,” cried out Tindee, drawing quite a few glances from the surrounding women. Lowering her tone, she peered at Seketa, her eyes glittering with excitement. “You never bother to be nice to boys; you never talk to them unless you want to scold them for something. But suddenly, oh-so-very-proud Seketa goes to a boy and asks him to tell her what happened?” The suggestive smile upon the girl’s lips made Seketa wish to strike her friend. “Did you take your time to comfort him, too, to make him feel better? Did you?”
“Oh, stop talking nonsense!” Not it was Seketa’s turn to cry out, then moderate her voice. “I can’t believe I told you. You are so silly!”
“I’m not silly, sister.” Tindee’s voice trembled with barely concealed satisfaction. “I can see this spark in your eyes, and your cheeks are now the color of my festive dress. The one with the purple girdle. Just the same color.”
Against her will, Seketa brought her palms to cover her cheeks. “It’s hot! The sun is making my skin burn.”
“Of course, Seketa, of course.”
“Will you leave me alone? I can’t believe I told you any of it. I will never tell you a thing in my entire life, not one single thing!”
“Come on, sister. Calm down.” Grabbing Seketa’s hand, Tindee pulled her back into the shadow of the corn leaves. “I won’t tease you anymore, I promise. This boy will die soon anyway, so he won’t make us argue again.”
“He won’t die. I saw Yeentso this morning, on my way out. He was sitting, eating porridge. Or maybe it was a soup. Dying people don’t eat.”
“Yes, I saw him, too. I was so tired I could barely see, and I couldn’t care less for the annoying man.” Tindee’s pretty face crinkled with laughter. “But they sent me to bring him fresh water from the outside, so I had to see him, even if against my will.”
Seketa nodded. “See? So he is not dying, therefore, the boy won’t have to die either.”
“Oh, that’s what you think. But not what our Clan’s Mothers think.”
She felt her heart sinking. “What do they want?”
“They will be talking to the Town Council again. I overheard them speaking of this not long ago.”
“What will they be talking about?”
“Well, you know how it is. The offense was made. Even if Yeentso heals with no trouble, they want compensation. He is in the longhouse now, of no use to the community. Neither his wife nor her sister went into the fields this morning. Further damage to the Beaver Clan. And the old healer woman was late for the fields, too, because she took her time boiling herbs.” Serious for a change, Tindee looked around, thrusting her arm out in an exaggerated manner, pointing toward the densely planted stakes of maize. “See how we have to work harder now, because less women are here to help us out? Our clan deserves to be compensated, does it not?”
Involuntarily, Seketa’s eyes followed her friend’s hand, watching the cracks in the dry earth. There were yet many plots in need of watering, many plants in need of tending. They would have to work until the sun would be well on its way to its resting place, until dusk, maybe. Tindee was right about that.
“Well, the death of this boy won’t make our work any easier,” she said uneasily, raising her gaze to glance at the platform, towering high above the field. Two women sat there alertly, staring at the horizon, each peering at her different direction. Once upon a time, Seketa knew, there were no watching platforms, and people would just go out and work the land. Or so said the elders, although such stories did not make sense. How could people walk about or work the fields with no one watching? How would they manage to flee back into the safety of the town’s fences in the case of an enemy’s attack with
no one watching to warn them in time?
“No, but our clan should be compensated,” Tindee’s voice broke into her thoughts.
“With what?”
“They were talking about hides, maybe. Like ten pieces of good hides with no holes and no tears.”
“Oh!”
“Yes, oh. It won’t be fair if people would be allowed to wound other people, taking them out of the normal daily life, rendering them useless for the community. It would make a bad precedence.”
“All right, I do see their point. Our Clan Mothers are wise.” Seketa shrugged. “Well, the Wolf Clan would have to pay us those hides, that’s all.”
“If they think it’s fair, yes, they’ll pay.”
“If?” She peered at her friend, puzzled. “Why would they argue? It’s not fair to leave us with no compensation.”
“Well, no, of course not. But they may be angry with the annoying boy for forcing them into this. They may not take it kindly.”
“What will they do to him? What did you hear?”
Tindee shrugged. “I heard they may let him take the responsibility. He has seen close to seventeen summers. He is of an age. Old enough to tell him ‘go and get those things to pay up, wild boy. By whatever means you have’.”
“Do you mean to say they would send him to obtain those hides all by himself?” gasped Seketa, aghast. “It’s the same as to kill him right away. No one hunts outside all alone, no one! Not even the best of our hunters and warriors. And certainly not boys with no training or skill.”
Shrugging again, Tindee turned toward the nearby row of stakes. “Maybe they do want to get rid of him. He is a nuisance, doing not one single thing right, bringing nothing but trouble. They hoped for something better than this, when giving the enemy cub a chance.” She looked back, flashing a fleeting smile, one of those nice, unguarded smiles of hers. “Get busy. The old healer and one of the elder women are watching us. I don’t fancy hearing any more lecturing about the unworthiness of the young girls.”