River had raised Big Dog since she had found him as a small pup abandoned in the grasslands. He considered River to be his one and only master. He ate with her and slept with her.
All of the other village dogs were midsize with short tan fur. Besides being a lot bigger, Big Dog looked entirely different from all the others. By his longer, dark fur and thick ruff as well as the long shape of his muzzle, it was clear he was part wolf. She drew Big Dog’s ear through her hand, something he always enjoyed. He heaved a sigh of relief to have her home. Since he loved to chase birds from cover before she could get close enough to take them, he was not a helpful hunting companion. Now, she wished she had let him come on the hunt anyway.
Lookouts would have already announced her return. They would also have announced that Morning Flower was not with her.
Her father, his leathery face grim, waited on the far side of the gathering square, flanked by his advisors and other important people. Everyone stood in silence, backs straight, apprehensive about what she would report.
“Chief Standing Bear,” she said to her father with a bow of her head out of respect. “I have terrible news.”
“Where is your sister?” he asked in concern as he glanced behind her before she could tell him.
“Morning Flower and I were attacked by Wolf People warriors.”
The gathered crowd gasped.
His frown deepened the heavy creases of his leathery face. “Are you sure it was Wolf People?”
“They were painted in the traditional designs of a Wolf People war party. We know all too well those painted men.” She lifted the war hammer one of the men had thrown at her, showing the people. They all recognized the pattern of the woven leather on the handle as a Wolf People design. “They captured Morning Flower and took her away with them.”
River’s mother, Lone Willow, rushed forward. “They took my little Morning Flower?”
River, too choked with tears to speak, could only nod.
“How is it, then, that you were not taken?” Walking Stag, one of the more aggressive young men, asked.
He sounded suspicious rather than angry that the Wolf People had her little sister. Like many strong and brave young men, Walking Stag thought that one day he should be chief of the Sun People.
Rather than answer him, River turned back to her father. “I fought them off and ran back here to get help for Morning Flower. We must gather a rescue party at once. Maybe we can catch—”
“You know our laws,” Standing Bear said, cutting her off. He gave his head one shake of regret. “We cannot fight the Wolf People or any other. It is forbidden.”
River didn’t back down. “I know why those men took little Flower. We all know why. We must fight to get her back.”
“Those who gave us our laws forbid killing.”
River could feel her face going red with rage. “They kill. They come to kill Sun People, and we run and hide or at most beat them off with willow switches. They take our young women and we do nothing. They kill our young men and we do nothing.”
Standing Bear shook his head more firmly. “We all know the sorrow of losing those we love, but what you wish to do is against our most sacred law. You know that.”
“I know that I wish I would have killed more of them!”
She realized it was out of her mouth before she had intended to reveal it.
Eyes widened among the gathered people. Some gasped. Silence gradually descended over the group.
“What do you mean, you wish you would have killed more of them?” Walking Stag asked in a measured voice as he stepped forward.
Standing Bear, the lines in face deepening with worry, leaned toward her. “What have you done, daughter?”
“I protected myself and tried to protect Flower. She is my little sister. I was supposed to protect her. I failed her because I let them surprise us. I should have been more alert. But that does not mean that they can take a child from us.”
Her father lifted a hand out to the side to prevent Walking Stag from coming any closer. The arm was also a warning to keep quiet. It was not his place to question her. That was for the chief to do. Her father’s dark eyes turned back to her.
“This is great trouble, Raging River. You have violated—”
“What about Flower!” River’s hands fisted at her sides. “Don’t you care about Flower? Don’t you care about your own daughter? Aren’t you willing to do something to get her back? Will you stand by and allow our people to be in danger?”
“The danger is past.” His voice took on the firm tone of finality. “The Wolf People will now be satisfied that they have a captive. They will leave us be for now.”
River gritted her teeth. “That is the talk of a coward.”
The crowd gasped. Her mother stepped forward and slapped her. “You will not speak with such irreverence to our chief and your father.”
Standing Bear lifted a hand, not unlike the way he had lifted a hand to Walking Stag, as if to calm his wife and say that he would handle it.
“River,” he said in a more fatherly tone, “you can have a child and replace Flower for our people. That is how you may right this loss. It is long past time that you should be a wife and a mother. Instead, you violate our laws.” He turned and indicated the tall young man to the side. “I think it is time you were the wife of Walking Stag.”
When he turned back, the look she gave him told him that he had just made a mistake.
“It is forbidden for anyone,” she said in a low, measured tone, “even our chief, to tell a priestess that she must take a husband, and more so that anyone, even a chief, should name that man.”
Raging River had been named priestess of the Sun People before she had even been born. That mantle had passed on to her only when the last priestess had died and would only pass on to the next when she died. For now, she was priestess of the Sun People.
The mood suddenly turned. Standing Bear, though he was chief and angry that she had violated their law, had just tried to violate one of their most deeply held customs.
Realizing he had overstepped his authority, he bowed his head to her.
“I apologize, Priestess.”
Raging River gave him a look that only a priestess could give and then stormed off, giving Walking Stag the same look on the way by. The gazes of both men went to the ground as she went past.
Chapter 4
River flopped down on the floor in the small single room of her home, her emotions flying in every direction all at once. She was panic-stricken for Morning Flower. Tears sprang forth at the thought of her sister’s lonely terror, at the thought of being helpless to do anything to save her.
River was furious that Flower had been taken. She was ashamed that she had not protected her little sister. She was embarrassed that her father would not act like a man and do something to rescue his daughter. She was shamed that the Sun People would not protect one so innocent. She was angry at their cowardly law.
Raging River sat, feeling helpless, feeling humiliated at having killed a man, but at the same time wishing she had killed them all. She was their priestess and yet she had violated their most important law. She, above all others, was expected to respect their laws. Yet she would do it again if given the chance to save Flower. For that matter, she would do it again to save any of her people, even though they wouldn’t do the same for her.
Unlike many of the better dwellings in the village, hers was not made of baked mud brick, but like a few others was instead made of small logs. They were spaced apart and stood upright in holes, and then green branches were woven between them. The woven branches were chinked with a mixture of straw, sand, and mud. Once the walls were woven and thoroughly chinked, then plastered over, they were strong and weathertight. Her roof was made from the abundant grasses that grew to the east of their village. The small logs came from the abundant trees growing in the forested mountains to the other side.
The logs were no bigger around than her wrist. She had cut a
nd gathered them herself, then dragged them home. She had collected the green branches, woven them, and chinked them by herself. She had gathered the grasses for the roof by herself, but some of the young men of the village had helped with making the roof over her small home.
One wall was shared with the house of her parents. Against that wall she had built her small fireplace with rocks she had carried back from creeks and streams. Morning Flower lived with her parents beyond that shared wall. At least, that was where Morning Flower used to live. Now she was a captive of the Wolf People.
Nose first, Big Dog pushed his way in past the hide hanging over her doorway. His tongue lolled out to one side, he loped over to where she sat cross-legged before the fireplace. He lay down beside her and rested his head on her leg as if to console her. Big Dog recognized her moods, and he knew she was heartsick, even if he didn’t know why. He simply wanted to be by her. She ran her hand over his head in appreciation of his unqualified loyalty.
The fire had for the most part gone cold, but there were a few glowing coals she had banked off to the side before leaving that morning on a hunt with her little sister. She pushed the hot coals together, then broke twigs, piling them on the glowing coals to bring the fire back to life.
As she watched the flames grow and the smoke curl up, she fed in some sticks of wood. She stared into the dance of small flames, and considered something she had never considered before.
No one ever acted. They always accepted what happened, even this, as the way things were. Their laws forbade them from doing otherwise. For the Sun People, breaking those laws meant their spirit would be forever cast into the dark wilderness after death, never to settle.
River knew that she had to act. What happened after death was a mystery to her, but what was happening in life she knew all too well and it was not acceptable. No one would dare to violate their laws. She already had. She knew something had to be done, and she was the only one among the Sun People who had the ability to act. She was their priestess. As their priestess, she was the only one who could do anything.
She was also the only one among them who had ever killed anyone.
As their priestess, she was the only person allowed to do what she now knew she must.
River scooped up some of the darkest ashes from the side of the fireplace and put them in a grinding bowl. She lifted the lid off a bowl of lard beside her cooking pot and took a generous swipe of it with a finger. After wiping it off her finger onto the inside of the grinding bowl, she let Big Dog lick her finger clean. She drew her knife and used it to puncture the heel of her hand in order to add blood to the mixture.
As Big Dog watched, she used a stone to grind the mixture together to make black paint. After she had worked it into a smooth consistency, she set the stone aside. Looking down into the black paint, she wondered momentarily if she was doing the right thing. She knew, though, that she had no choice.
Gathering her courage, she started using the black mixture she had made to paint a mask across her face. She made the mask tall enough to go from above her eyebrows to down across the top half of her nose. She checked her reflection in a dark bowl of water to make sure it looked right. It looked frightening.
Once she had completed the mask across her eyes, she made up another paint out of white ash. She used the white to cover the rest of her face so that none would mistake its meaning or intent.
As the village priestess, she intended to make the journey to Spirit Mountain to call upon their ancestor spirits, and more.
She went to the door of her small home and pulled the hide hanging over her door aside. Across the way, a gaggle of young boys were playing a game with small stones. The boys looked up when she stepped into the doorway. They often followed her around, because it was well known among them that trouble tended to follow River and they liked to witness what trouble she would bring.
When they saw her painted face, they froze. None had ever seen such a thing before. Most of the village hadn’t. If they had, it would only have been before she was born.
“I want you boys to do something for me,” she called to them.
They all rushed to their feet, eager for the chance to be a rare part of whatever trouble she would bring about this time. By her painted face, they recognized that, this time, it would be big trouble.
“What is it?” one of the boys asked.
“Call Chief Standing Bear and his advisors to the square. Tell the shaman that the priestess wants him there, too.”
The boys stared in astonishment. “White Crow?” one of them asked. “Are you sure you want us to summon White Crow as well?”
“That’s right. Hurry now. Tell them the priestess has called for them to come immediately. I will be there in a twinkling.”
The boys ran off, excited to be part of the new trouble she was stirring up.
Chapter 5
The thick cloud cover made a dark roof over the world. At the horizon the dark ground rose up to meet a burning band of sky. The dark ground and dark sky would soon meet and shroud the world in darkness until the sun returned at dawn. To her people, the sun was the sacred giver of life.
As River walked resolutely into the square, people moved back out of her way. Standing Bear was speaking to his advisors. When he heard the people falling silent, he turned to see what was happening.
White Crow sat on a low wall to the side. He had his ceremonial blanket around his shoulders and a wife to each side. His long, braided hair had been white as snow as far back as River could remember. He wore his necklaces of brightly colored amulets, each having meaning or purpose. Tied at the ends of his braids were crow feathers that he regularly dipped in white ash.
When White Crow saw her painted face, he stood and came forward, not looking at all happy. In fact, he looked decidedly unhappy, as did her father, Standing Bear, and his advisors. Both the chief and the shaman waited for her to explain herself.
“I must go to Spirit Mountain,” she announced without delay.
Her father looked to be taken by surprise. “Why?”
“Because as priestess I am the guardian of our ancestors. White Crow, would you please tell us all the story of the creation of our people?”
He frowned as he glanced to people to the sides, unsure of her intent.
“Everyone knows of our beginning. Why are you painted to meet with the dead? What is it you intend to do?”
“I did not ask if everyone knows our beginning. I asked you to tell us all the story of the creation of our people. It is important that everyone knows the story so that they may understand what it is I intend to do and why I must do it.”
He sighed as he hiked the blanket up higher around his shoulders. “In the beginning,” he said, looking out over the silent gathering of the Sun People, “there was only the sky and the ground. The sun, up in the sky, was lonely in the empty world, so he sent a raven down to the ground. The raven carried seeds from Father Sun and planted them in the barren ground.
“Once the seeds were in the ground, Father Sun kissed the ground to warm those seeds. Life-giving rain was sent. From those seeds, watered by the rain and warmed by the sun, our people grew. We came into the world and made the sun father happy because he was no longer alone. We worshiped our father’s return each day at dawn. This pleased the sun, and he named us the Sun People.
“Then, one day when the sun saw his children fighting and killing one another, he sent the Sky People down to give us our laws.”
As silence rang out over the gathering, River nodded.
“And what else have the Sky People brought us?” she asked.
White Crow’s brow drew tight. “What do you mean? The Sky People brought laws down to us from the sun up in the sky.”
River regarded the old shaman with a bitter expression. “The sun may have given us life, but the Sky People brought us death and suffering. One brought life, the other brought death.”
“But that is not true,” White Crow whispered in alarm. “Th
e laws given to us by the Sky People are sacred. We live by those laws.”
“No,” she said, looking out at the people watching her. “We do not live by those laws. We die by those laws.”
Worry swept through the crowd.
“What are you talking about?” Standing Bear demanded.
“How many of our men have been captured and staked to the ground to die? How many of our young women have been taken from us? On the last new moon, a raiding party of Wolf People warriors came into our village and stole the grinding stone we use to grind our grains so that our people may be fed.”
“We can make another grinding stone,” he said. “In the meantime, we make do and grind our grain as best we can.”
“As best we can,” she said as she nodded, “as our people go hungry. As children cry in hunger as they go to bed. As parents go without to try to feed their young ones.”
“It will take time,” Standing Bear said with strained patience, “but we will eventually make another grinding stone.”
“And when we do, the Wolf People, or another people, will come and take it from us while we stand by, helpless.” River showed no emotion as she went on. “How many of our people were killed by the Wolf People warriors as we tried to keep them from stealing the most precious and important thing the Sun People possess?”
No one said a word, so River answered her own question. “Twenty-three young men who tried to drive them off with willow switches were killed. Six young women were taken along with our grinding stone. You can eventually replace our people’s grinding stone. How will you replace the lives sacrificed to our law?”
“But our law—”
“Our law killed those twenty-three young men,” she said, cutting the chief off.
The Sky People Page 2