Mintikwa and the Underwater Panther

by JR Green

  The sand-peppered stone of the riverbed pressed up under her feet. Together they kicked off, shot through the green column of water, and flew to the sky. They burst from the surface, and Mintikwa’s voice and the sounds of the forest rushed at her. She watched Mintikwa wipe the water from his eyes. He looked at her and smiled.

  “What do you think?” Mintikwa asked.

  “Okay, I’ll admit it. I’m glad you pulled me in.”

  “See?”

  Their boat had drifted downriver. Laughing, they swam to recover it. They reached the canoe and gripped the rim.

  “Now what?” she asked. “How are we supposed to get back in?”

  She figured they would have to push the boat to the riverbank.

  “Hold on,” Mintikwa said. “I’ll go to the other side.”

  Mintikwa swam around to the opposite side of the boat.

  “Together,” he said, out of sight. “Pull up at the same time.”

  “Ready?”

  “Yes,” Willow said.

  “Go!”

  Willow hauled herself out of the water. Mintikwa did the same. They collapsed on the floor of the boat and laughed at their success. Somehow she ended up on top of him. She was chilled from the river depths and was not inclined to push away. Mintikwa felt warm.

  They were breathing heavily, compensating for being underwater.

  Mintikwa’s breathing slowed. He grew quiet and warmer beneath her with each passing moment. Willow wrestled with meeting his eyes. She was afraid of what she might find there, the assurance of a friend, the attraction of something more, or perhaps both?

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said, turning to meet his eyes. She found concern there. “No, really, I’m fine.”

  “You grew so quiet. I was afraid you were mad at me.”

  “No,” Willow said. “You were right. That was fun.”

  “Want to do it again?”

  Willow laughed. “Maybe in a bit.”

  They continued upriver, making up lost ground and moving on toward the unknown.

  Now it was easy to fall overboard and slip beneath the calm surface. Water droplets crystalized the sun and stretched over his skin and hers alike. The mixture of cool relief and radiant warmth sent her waves of pleasure. With their laughter and playing in the water, the afternoon bordered on ecstasy.

  There was a time when she had known Mintikwa more than she knew anyone. Today she felt like she was getting to know him like that again. Her comfort with him grew by leaps and bounds, coaxed on by the little girl in her, who laughed with Mintikwa, scolded him, and once directed him in play. His presence was familiar but also new. He had changed but at the same time remained the same. There was the dark cluster of freckles on his shoulder, the scar on the right side of his upper chest where diving he had hit his grandfather’s canoe. There was the dimple that formed below his left cheek when he smiled.

  Like most boys and men in the summer, by midday, he shed everything except his breechcloth. Mintikwa was sleek in form but layered with dense muscle born of the resistance of so much water.

  His hair was long. Most warriors she knew cropped their hair to the skin on one side. Mintikwa chose not to but rather grew his hair to full length on both sides of his head. Mintikwa’s hair grew to the middle of his back. When it was wet, it slicked from his forehead, pressed over his crown, and became a slender cord as it traced down his back.

  His eyes were dark, only slightly lighter than his pupils, typically wide-open unless resting in direct sunlight. Flecks of blue lay scattered throughout his dark irises, an unusual trait for one of their own, but Mintikwa was of the Great-horned Owl line, and blue eyes ran in that family. He was a direct descendant of Great-horned Owl, the hero of the people. Her father denied this was anything more than a legend. More and more folks were beginning to doubt the truth in the old stories. Somehow, though, she believed Mintikwa was the grandson of their hero. To think, the Great-horned Owl’s blood coursed through his veins. The thought gave her goosebumps.

  His eyes reminded Willow of his namesake, the eyes of an Owl, always fully aware of his surroundings, fully conscious. Sometimes she avoided looking too long into them for fear that he might use them to see down into the most guarded parts of her mind.

  She had missed him. She knew this now. The day before, she had been unaware of this feeling. She had left home at the littlest indication that he might be in danger. Her reasoning seemed sound. It was simple. Her father wouldn’t send someone, so she would go. But would she have done the same for anybody else? Now she wasn’t so sure. She had been so desperate to know that he was safe. It had blindsided her. Before she knew it, she was on the north edge of town and on her way to the riverside. She had followed the river all morning and into the afternoon, running most of the time without the slightest pause. She remembered the moment when he first came into view, paddling upriver. Finally, she fell to the ground, exhausted but relieved beyond all measure. Her tension had flown away from her at that moment. Though she would never admit it to anyone, the sight of him brought tears to her eyes. He was okay, she thought. She might have turned and gone home in the knowledge that he was safe, but watching him disappear around the next turn on his way north, she was compelled to follow him. Curiosity overtook her. What was he like now? How had he changed?

  “Willow?” Mintikwa asked. “Are you okay?”

  She stirred from her thoughts and found Mintikwa bobbing in the water again. He beckoned her to join him. She shook the memories away. The sun was hot against her skin. Having spent the last couple turns of the river in the boat, she was dry. Willow got up and dove in. A moment later, she surfaced next to him.

  “Isn’t that better?” he asked.

  He did love the river. She smiled and then lost her balance and wobbled underwater. She lurched for something substantial. Her fingers fell over his outstretched hand. Instinctively, she shifted her hand to the solidity of his shoulder.

  “Sorry,” she said. “I lost my balance.”

  “That’s okay.” Her eyes found his. In them, she saw a remarkable openness.

  “I like it when you lose your balance.”

  For the first time in so many years, she knew what it was like to just play. How long had it been? When was the last time she felt like this? Like a child in the presence of an endless summer day? With only the river and her friend to mingle with her thoughts. When? She was sure it had been the last day that she played with this boy. When exactly? She could not remember the particular day. It was lost to her, buried deep in her Dreamtime. But it didn’t matter. She had its essence with her now, with Mintikwa. Had it ever ended?

  Sharp Knife thrust his blade. His opponent lurched backward but not quite far enough. The tip of his knife drew blood.

  The warrior cursed, dropped his weapon, and frantically gripped his stomach.

  Sharp Knife landed in a defensive position but quickly relaxed when he saw his friend had given up.

  “You trying to kill me?”

  Sharp Knife shook his head and approached. “I didn’t think I hit that hard,” he said, eyeing the wound. “Let us see.”

  His friend lifted his hand from his stomach. Wet blood shone from his palm, but the wound itself was small.

  “It’s nothing,” Sharp Knife said, chuckling.

  Someone broke from the woods and into the clearing. Everyone turned.

  A warrior approached. He strode directly to Sharp Knife.

  “Is there some news?” he asked.

  “Raging Buffalo sent me to retrieve you,” the messenger said.

  “Do you know what is the matter?”

  “I shouldn’t say,” the messenger said.

  Sharp Knife eyed the messenger, who quickly relented.

  “It’s Willow,” he said.

  “What about Willow?” Sharp Knife asked, concern creeping into his voice.

  “I think our chief would rather say,” he said.

  Sharp Knife consi
dered him, tossing his knife in the air. It flipped several times before the hilt landed neatly in his palm. “Just say it,” he said.

  The messenger sighed. “She’s gone,” he said.

  “What do you mean, she’s gone?” Sharp Knife asked.

  “I mean, no one can find her,” said the messenger.

  “What else do you know?” Sharp Knife asked.

  The messenger thought for a moment. Finally, he said, “They were talking about a vision seeker.”

  “Mintikwa,” Sharp Knife said contemptuously.

  “Mintikwa is seeking a vision,” Raging Buffalo said. “Willow wanted me to send a warrior to look out for him. I said no.”

  “A wise choice,” Sharp Knife offered. “Do you think she followed him?” Sharp Knife asked, surprised.

  “I’m afraid so,” Raging Buffalo said. The war chief placed a hand on his shoulder. “Look, son. They were friends as children. She is fond of the boy, but I’m sure that’s as far as it goes.”

  Sharp Knife nodded.

  “Can you track him?” the chief asked.

  Sharp Knife nodded. “I’ll need another warrior. That way, we can cover both sides of the river.”

  “I’ll give you two,” Raging Buffalo said. “I’m postponing our scouting trip,” he said, agitated. “Until my daughter is safe at home.”

  Sharp Knife set out right away, traveling upstream. He sent his friend to the other side of the river. They communicated by mimicking animal sounds. They whistled like birds and trilled like insects. Following the river, keeping in mind the custom of going inland for vision seeking, soon they began looking for any signs of Mintikwa leaving the water.

  “What do you see?” Mintikwa asked, lifting his paddle from the water.

  “Underwater Serpent,” Willow said. “There.” She pointed into the lily pads ahead of them.

  “Are you sure?” Mintikwa asked.

  Willow nodded. Her eyes were wide with fear.

  Underwater Serpent was in their lands only in the sixth world, though very rare, rare enough that the presence of the giant serpent was a surprise to Mintikwa and Willow.

  There it was, swimming among the lily pads just under the surface of the water. It was at least as long as his canoe and was about to cross their path.

  In the prior world, Underwater Serpent did exist, but only far to the south. Mintikwa knew this because of their stories. The fifth world was much colder than the present. The great serpent did not like the cold of their lands in the fifth world, but their world was much more to its liking now.

  Occasionally a fisher would see this giant snake, which could be a real threat to the people, especially small children. It was shunned. Soon the whole village would know where it had been spotted, and if it were anywhere near town, everyone would join in to drive it away. They were often successful without resorting to violence, as it did not like so much attention and would soon disappear.

  Underwater Serpent was peculiar in that he had a real foothold in the world as this snake, though he was of the underworld. Most of these denizens were regulated to manifestations as part of a vision, not as a living, breathing animal. Great-horned Serpent, Underwater Panther, not so. They came as part of a vision, though even still, Mintikwa could think of no one claiming such visions in the sixth world. Visions involving these powerful beings came only to the heroes among the people. Great-horned Owl, the hero in their origin stories, was the only one that came to mind. Great-horned Owl had seen Great-horned Serpent, a serpent donning terrible horns, with a body as thick as a tree, its length a perpetual mystery, for no one, not even Great-horned Owl, had seen its end, as it stretches endlessly through the forest. Great-horned Owl saw Underwater Panther too. He had conversations with the Great Panther toward the end of the last age. It was Great-horned Owl who had delivered them from the fifth world and into the sixth, but he only lived a little while in the sixth world, as he was an old man by that time.

  “Mintikwa?” Willow said, with a measure of alarm in her voice.

  Mintikwa stirred from his pondering.

  “Let’s not get too close,” she said.

  They had eased a little too far into the lily pads for Willow’s comfort.

  He dug the paddle into the water, and the bow turned about. Suddenly Underwater Serpent roiled, arching above the water in several places. His thick body glistened in the sun, showing off his exquisite patterns. A moment later, he was gone, diving down to the riverbed, likely to lie in wait of prey.

  Seeing the snake in action, Mintikwa questioned the people relating it to the deity. It looked like any other animal, doing what animals do, moving about, hunting for food, basking in the sun, diving for deep cool water. No one had ever seen Underwater Panther, Great-Horned Serpent, or Thunderbird, or Meteor Man-being. Why should Underwater Serpent exist as an animal in the river and not Underwater Panther? Mintikwa wasn’t one to question the stories, but were they misguided where Underwater Serpent and this animal were concerned? Perhaps the renown of this serpent was due to its size. It was indeed a magnificent creature. There were no other like it. It was a giant among snakes.

  Perhaps the water snake might be his totem. It did seem more closely associated with his interests, but he decided against it. In the people’s minds, this snake was a creature of the underworld and not well-suited as a totem for anyone. Mintikwa thought of his little panther vision while observing the whirlpool. Underwater Serpent was part of the domain of Underwater Panther, both denizens of the underworld. Was it a sign? If it were, he did not yet know what it meant.

  “Take us away from shore,” Willow said, brushing her hand toward the center of the river. She had apparently seen enough of the oversized snake today.

  A small creek flowed into the river from the west.

  “That makes three,” Mintikwa said.

  “Three what?” Willow asked.

  “Creeks,” he said.

  “Why are you counting them?”

  “I’m reading a map,” he said, tapping his temple.

  “What map?”

  “Jumping Frog showed me this land,” Mintikwa said, sweeping his arm out in front of them. “It was on the hide of a deer which came from the fifth world. They call it a map.”

  “The fifth world on a deerskin?”

  “The deer was born in the fifth world. They made a map of these lands on the skin. You have to pretend it’s the world.”

  “Oh, I see,” Willow said.

  “I counted the confluences so that I would know where Eddytown is.”

  “I still think it’s a bad idea, going all the way to the ancient town,” Willow said.

  “We’re almost halfway there,” Mintikwa said. “What if there’s nothing at all to the stories? Perhaps it’s safe to return now.”

  “So, how many more creeks are there?”

  “Four more.”

  The sun set behind the trees, but unlike the last evening, the heat of this day lingered. The air was heavy and seemed to hope for a thunderstorm. Fasting did not go well with traveling, Mintikwa decided. He was exhausted. His body racked with hunger pangs, though they did come and go. Mintikwa had figured out that fasting was a matter of persisting through waves of hunger. True, they did seem to grow more intense each time, but if you made it through one, you at least would have some reprieve before the next struck. On any other day, he could have easily paddled another few turns of the river. He had the daylight for it, and he usually would have the strength for it. This day though, he was done. Mintikwa steered the canoe to the beach.

  From horizon to horizon, the sky flashed on in silence.

  Willow laughed uneasily at the display.

  Far away, thunder rumbled. The threat of a storm made them afraid for their boat. It might get carried away, so they pulled it far off the water. They set about building a shelter, just in case of a downpour later. When they finished, they sat in the sand before their creation and rested.

  Dusk settled. They prepared the space again
for an offering of tobacco and sage.

  “Try some willow bark,” she suggested.

  Mintikwa took some of the red willow bark out and nudged it up next to the sage. The sky flickered as the tendrils of smoke rose up.

  Mintikwa waved some of the tendrils to his nose. The scent of the red willow was soothing.

  “I like it,” he said.

  Willow leaned in and did the same. She closed her eyes and inhaled the fragrant smoke of her namesake.

  She began to sing. Mintikwa joined her. Their harmonies lifted their spirits to new heights.

  When they finished their singing, a little light still remained, so they got up and walked along the river. A fallen tree blocked their way, so they stopped and leaned against the old log. Mintikwa found a stone in the sand. He picked it up and tossed it into the water.

  The stone made a Kerplunk.

  Something about the sound made Willow giggle.

  Her laughter reminded him of seasons long gone. Her voice struck him as very familiar, as did her very presence. Of course, she had grown, and there were many changes. That was evident. Her voice was deeper and richer and somewhat hypnotic to him. When she was resting, her legs were sleek, but other times her muscles knotted and flexed powerfully, as when they climbed the hill to the giant rocks. No doubt they were made strong from so many excursions through the forests around town. Her facial features were more pronounced. Her lips were full and a deeper red. Her cheeks were sun-kissed and freckled. Her eyes were a kaleidoscope of contrasting ambers and were lined with dark lashes. In one moment, they exuded the intelligence and cunning of a hunter, and in the next, an innocent curiosity. Her hair had grown thick and dark, her hips were ample. There were other changes, more subtle. Whether these changes resided in Willow or in him, he wasn’t exactly sure. They affected Mintikwa in ways that made him shy away from pondering them too long. Instead, he directed his thoughts toward how comfortable she made him feel. He settled into it, that same ease he felt in her company so many summers ago. He could go on forever, fasting and paddling through unknown territory, so long as he felt like this. It even had the power to subdue his fear of her father.