by J. M. LeDuc
The Creator nodded as the winds on the mount began to increase. “You are Kahkakow, the Raven, you only need to take its spirit. But,” the Creator emphasized, “beware its wiles. The raven is a trickster, a prankster whose spirit is as dark as it is light. If you are not careful, it will control you.”
“How am I supposed to—”
“You must learn to fly.”
Pamoon looked up from her hand but Kise was gone. As her parting words echoed off the mountains, the winds blew harder.
41
Kahkakow
March 8, 4:00 p.m.
* * *
The stiff winds swirled around Pamoon causing leaves and dirt to rise and encircle her body. Within seconds, she couldn’t see beyond the debris. Caged inside the eye of this tornado, the stronger the wind blew, the less pull gravity had on her. She screamed in fear as her feet began to lose contact with the ground.
Pamoon yelled, “Nakiwin!” To her shock, the twisting cyclone obeyed her command and stopped spinning, allowing her to once again see past nature’s rubble. For one brief moment, she felt relief. Relief that turned to absolute fear when she realized she was out in front of the cliff’s edge, falling in midair.
The clouds and sky rushed past as she dropped toward her death. Beneath her fear, she felt pain. The pounding in her hand and neck so excruciating, it felt like her flesh would rip open. Dropping with such speed, she no longer had the air to scream. Seeing the ground coming up fast, she raised her hands to her face to hide her eyes. Her left hand finding her neck instead of her face.
When the mark on her left hand touched the mark on her neck, her world transformed.
A murder of ravens, hundreds of them, surrounded her, and somehow, spoke to her.
Spread your wings. Arch your neck.
Pamoon didn’t question the command; she just did as she was told. She spread her arms wide, her neck arched skyward, and soared. Giddy with relief, she started to laugh as she flew higher.
The birds closed in around her, Atahk flying next to her.
“Watch what I do and follow my lead,” Atahk said. Tucking her wings close to her body, the raven dropped her beak slightly and dove downward. Pamoon mimicked her movements and followed. This time her descent was not an uncontrolled free-fall, but a disciplined movement.
As her lessons continued throughout the day, the birds began to change their position. Instead of leading and surrounding Pamoon, they dropped back behind her. Not understanding what they were doing, Pamoon followed and flew to the back of the formation. Each time she did, the ravens once again lined up behind her. Finally, Atahk flew next to her, pecked her on the forehead, and said, “You are Kahkakow, the Raven, we follow you.”
Flattening the palms of her hands, Pamoon flapped her arms with a strong thrust and ascended to the front of the formation.
Lost in the moment, time seemed to stand still as Pamoon explored the mystical valley and its surrounding mountains.
Tired and thirsty, she spotted a lake and flew downward, landing softly at the edge of the crystal blue water. In the lake’s mirrored-finish, she was stunned at her reflection. I really am a raven.
Staring at her reflection, she remembered what Kise told her. You are the Kakesimototakew, the one who communicates with the spirit world. You must find your Powamow, your animal identity.
Pecking at the water, quenching her thirst, she saw past the image of the raven and caught a glimpse of her true reflection.
I am Pamoon.
With that thought, she sprung from the lakeshore and flew back towards the Spirit Mount. As she neared, the ravens broke from formation and scattered, leaving just her and Atahk when she arrived at the mount.
There, Kise was waiting, holding her staff, with Scout by her side. Atahk took her position on top of the staff. Pamoon standing next to Kise.
Am I supposed to stay in this body or can I transform back into myself?
“You have never lost your true spirit,” Kise answered.
With those words, Pamoon’s birthmarks began to itch. Using her left wing, she touched the mark on her neck, and instantly changed back into her true self.
Her legs unstable from the sudden transformation, they wobbled and caused her to fall on the rocky ground. Scout, happy to have her back, showered her in kisses, only stopping to bark and turn happy circles.
The celebration over, Pamoon stood and wiped herself off. “Now what?” she asked.
“Now, you use what you’ve been given and try to send Kanontsistonties back to the netherworld.”
“How?”
Kise began to fade from view. “Use your wiles.”
“What about my friends?”
“They can only be saved by sending Kanontsistonties to a fiery demise. But you must hurry. Time is running out.” With her final word, the Creator turned to mist and was swept away with the wind.
Pamoon picked up her staff and looked about the mount. “How are we supposed to get back home?” she mumbled.
Scout barked and faced the mouth of the cave.
Pamoon pointed her staff toward the cave and commanded, “Haw mikiwam.”
Following her command, Atahk took her place on the tip of the staff and Scout followed Pamoon into the cave.
They walked by the fork, feeling a chilling cold as they passed. Subconsciously, Pamoon quickened her step until something caught her eye. Another etching. Unlike the others, this one was man-made.
The etching appeared to be cut into the walls using the same type of tools as the other primitive one she’d seen previously. Wiping the debris away from the markings, Pamoon thought aloud. “These scratches must have been made by Ayas, the boy Kise called the Wandering Spirit.”
Studying the crude etching, Pamoon could see the depiction of an Indian brave standing atop the Spirit Mount. Next to the figure was a rendering of Kise. Looking closer, it appeared as if they might be holding hands. Did he see himself as an equal? Was he in love?
It was hard to tell if their hands were touching because there were lines in the shape of an ‘X’ gouged through the entire scene.
A mark made in anger. Or anguish.
Under the etching, Cree words were scrawled. Pamoon wiped and blew the dirt from the markings, hoping to be able to read what was written. Using some of her bottled water, she washed away the years of neglect and brought the words back to life.
“All is Lost,” she read aloud.
Reading those words and retracing the etching with her hands, Pamoon felt a profound sadness for the person who was now the Wandering Spirit. Walking away, she couldn’t stop thinking of the brave. She wondered where he was now and what he was doing. She wondered if he still felt the same way he did when he wrote the final words. Her thoughts dissipated as she caught the faint glimmer of the glow of the sacred fire in the distance.
Soon, she and her companions were back by the fire and once again the cave opening was present.
42
Bobby
March 15, 7:00 a.m.
* * *
Pamoon stepped from the Misty Woods surprised to see White Eagle waiting. He looked tired, but worse than that, he looked worried.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“You’ve been gone a week, and you ask what’s wrong,” White Eagle said, hugging her.
A week, Pamoon thought. “I forgot time is different in the spirit world.” Peering at the dark circles that traced below his eyes, Pamoon knew there was something else bothering him. “What else is happening? Is it my friends? Is someone else missing?”
“Let’s get you home, then we’ll talk,” White Eagle said. “You smell like a pigeon.”
* * *
Pamoon, her hair damp from the shower, joined Nuna, White Eagle, and Tihk at the kitchen table. “So, are you going to tell me what’s really going on?”
“Bobby’s not well,” Nuna said.
“What do you mean?”
“He’s sick,” White Eagle responded, not looking up f
rom his coffee cup.
Pamoon knew she wasn’t being told the entire truth. The adults’ answers were too short. “Sick?” she said. “Tihk, are you going to lie to me, too?”
“They’re not lying,” Tihk answered. “He is sick. Very sick. The doctors say he’s dying. They’re not sure how much time he has left.”
Pamoon shot up from the table. “Dying? From what?”
Nuna gripped her wrist and calmly pulled her back down. “That’s just it,” she said, “they can’t find anything wrong with him . . . except the obvious.”
“We even had the tribal veterinarian check him out,” White Eagle said. “His body is healthy, yet he seems to be dying.”
“Does his mom know?”
Tihk leaned back in his chair. “Astina had a bit of a breakdown after seeing Bobby last week. She’s in the medical center. For her own good, she’s been sedated. So, to answer your question, no, she doesn’t know.”
Pamoon’s mind was spinning. “What did Powaw say? Does he think Bobby’s dying?”
“I demanded he go home,” White Eagle said. “He’d been in the sweat lodge for days. He was weak from lack of sleep.”
Pamoon stood, staff in hand. “White Eagle, you need to take me to Bobby. Tihk, you need to get Powaw and bring him. Please, it’s Bobby’s only chance.”
43
Anguish
March 15, 10:00 a.m.
* * *
Pamoon felt useless as she stared at Bobby. Help me, Kise, she begged.
Use what you’ve been given. It’s the only way to send Kanontsistonties back to the netherworld. It’s the only way to help your friends. Time is running out.
Hearing the Creator repeat her nightmarish words, she tried to step closer to Bobby, but was held back by White Eagle.
The chief crossed his arms and sighed. “I don’t know if it’s worth the risk.”
With a nod, Nuna agreed.
A weak voice rang out, “Life is always worth the risk.”
They turned to see Powaw, leaning on Tihk for support, standing in the doorway. Powaw stepped across the lodge, his eyes darting between Bobby and White Eagle. Pamoon studied his eyes; they were heavy, sad, and knowing.
Powaw’s gaze landed on White Eagle. “See what she can do.”
White Eagle eyed his sister. “The doctors were not harmed,” he sighed. “I guess it’s okay.”
“The doctors were not my niece,” Nuna stressed. Then, in a soft yet stern whisper, added, “They were not the one called the Kiche.”
“There is no other way,” Powaw said.
Pamoon squatted by her friend’s side. Bobby was stuck somewhere between human and animal. His facial features more humanesque, but his body was still sinewy and lean like an animal. As she reached for his shackled paw, tufts of fur stood tall along his spine.
With her touch, his body recoiled in pain. His eyes, bloodshot and glassy, tried to focus on her but closed in exhaustion.
“His spirit is dying,” Powaw said.
“How long does he have?”
“Only the Creator knows such answers.”
Pamoon closed her eyes and gently squeezed Bobby’s paw. Can you hear me? She asked internally.
Yes, he answered, his voice weak and feeble.
Do you know who I am?
Yes.
A glimmer of hope rose deep inside Pamoon. How can I help you?
The corner of Bobby’s mouth quivered as if trying to sneer. You can’t. Take me back to the woods and set my spirit free.
But you won’t be free. You’ll be gone forever.
Bobby’s eyelids opened slightly as a tepid groan rose from his throat. You can’t stop Kanontsistonties. No man can.
A tear fell from her cheek and landed on his back, causing him to howl in pain. His reaction gave her hope.
Nodding, Pamoon agreed: You’re right, no human can stop Kanontsistonties. But the Kiche can.
* * *
Pamoon paced the kitchen, stomping around the room while White Eagle explained to her for the umpteenth time why her idea was too risky.
“I can’t let you leave here with Bobby,” he said. “Let’s assume for the sake of arguing, you can bring him inside the Spirit Cave. What then?”
“It’s a protected environment. The Creator told me that darkness can enter but remains weak in the cave.”
“Even if your assumptions are correct, Bobby’s weakened state may still be too strong. What happens when his strength returns? How are you going to control him? Who’s to say he won’t turn on you. He might kill you.”
Pamoon stopped pacing and looked at the people around the table: White Eagle, Tihk, Nuna, and Powaw. About to argue her point again, her hand and forehead began to tingle. She eyed her palm, rubbed it with her free hand, and thought back to when she was first told her birthmarks meant something.
Addressing the group, she looked back down at her hand and said softly, “The jacket my mother left; do you remember what was first translated from the lining?” She looked up from her hand and directly at White Eagle.
“I do,” he nodded.
Pamoon inhaled deep, exhaling, she repeated it, word for word.
“A demon will be released from captivity and only the wiles and power possessed by the one marked with the flames will be able to send it back to a fiery death. Until then, it will scour the earth searching for the weak. The winged demon will destroy both flesh and spirit, gaining strength by the blood and souls of its prey.”
With the last word spoken, she held her palm for all to see. “I am the one marked with the eternal flame.” she emphasized.
Everyone looked at Nuna, who sat shaking her head. “It’s not enough. We will not risk your life any further than we already have,” she said.
Pamoon stood tall. “You’re right, it might not be enough, but I am more than just the one marked with the flame, more than just Cree; I am the Yee Naaldlooshii.”
Pamoon touched the mark on her neck with the one on her palm, transforming into a raven. Transforming into Kahkakow.
44
Misty Woods
March 15, Noon
* * *
White Eagle, Powaw, and Tihk, who carried Bobby over his shoulder, followed Pamoon, Scout, and Atahk through the woods to the bent tree. She could see the shock in Tihk and Powaw’s eyes as they spotted the mystical site. “Through the eye of the needle,” she said. “That’s the way into the Misty Woods.
Eager to return, White Eagle was the first to go through. Pamoon placed her foot on the trunk to lift herself up, but Powaw held her back. “Let Tihk carry Bobby through first, we need to talk.”
She watched Tihk lift Bobby through the eye, then he too disappeared into the Misty Woods.
“I always thought—hoped—I would be able to protect you along your way,” Powaw said, once the others were gone. “Once you enter the cave with Bobby, I won’t be able to.” He looked down and shook his head. “The spirits will be of no help. Even the Creator may not be able to intercede.”
As he raised his head, making eye contact, Pamoon immediately dropped hers, afraid his expression might somehow change her mind. “I know,” she breathed.
She felt Powaw’s finger under her chin, lifting her head, forcing her to look at him.
“Do you remember what the Creator said to you when you asked her why she couldn’t send Kanontsistonties back to the netherworld? You said she told you that since man called him forth, only man can send him back.”
Pamoon swallowed hard, nodding.
Powaw touched her neck, then her hand, before resting his hand above her heart. “You were born with great power, use it wisely. Don’t show your hand until you absolutely have to.”
“Like when you taught me to play poker?” she said.
“Yeah, like that,” Powaw grinned back. “Your heart is your biggest weapon, but it’s also your biggest weakness.”
Pamoon cocked her head to the side and squinted.
“You don’t know w
hat shape your other friends are in or even if they can be saved. Don’t let your heart and your feelings for them outweigh your rational mind. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
Pamoon arched her head, kissing Powaw on the cheek. “I do. But I don’t know if I could ever do anything that would hurt my friends.”
“When and if the time comes, you must be strong. I trust that you will do what is necessary.”
Pamoon took a deep breath and steadied herself. “I hope so.”
Powaw wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tight.
* * *
Walking through the Misty Woods, Powaw’s neck never stopping turning, completely amazed at the miracle.
“The spirits are strong,” he said. “The elders are speaking to us through these woods.”
“What are they telling you, Powaw?” Tihk asked.
Powaw stopped and studied the trees. “That’s the strange thing. I’m not sure. One minute the trees are telling me one thing; the next, something different.”
“Maybe you’re just confused,” Tihk said. “You’re functioning on little sleep, remember?”
“No,” Powaw said, stepping off the path and running his hand up one of the trunks. “These trees are marked with carvings, but what I’m seeing is not Cree. Whatever is written is not meant for my eyes. It is meant for the eyes of one bearing a stronger spirit. It is meant for the one bearing the mark.”
Pamoon stood next to Powaw and gazed at the tree. “These marks weren’t here before,” she mumbled.
“Can you read them?” he asked.
“Sort of.” She nodded.
“What do they say?”
“That’s the weird thing. They don’t say anything.”