Mintikwa and the Underwater Panther

by JR Green

  They came to the confluence of Big Pine Creek and the people’s river. The confluence marked the halfway point between their town and Eddytown.

  Beaver swam through the swirling waters, emerged onto the shore, and then disappeared into the woods. The beaver lodge was on Big Pine Creek, so Mintikwa and Willow expected him to return. Mintikwa beached the canoe so that they could take a closer look. They were on the lookout for any signs of possible animal totems for Mintikwa. They got out and stretched their legs, walked into the trees a little, and watched for Beaver’s return.

  A little while later, the animal did emerge from the trees. Mintikwa and Willow were hidden. Beaver reached the riverbank, but oddly, he would not go into the water. He stood on his haunches and peered out to the river toward his house but still refused to go any farther. The animal disappeared again into the woods. They waited to see what would happen next.

  Later in the afternoon, something stirred across the river at the lodge. Other beaver were leaving the tangle of logs and swimming toward them. Soon a long line of the little swimmers stretched across the river. It was the whole colony. Mintikwa and Willow continued to watch, hidden behind the trees as more from upriver appeared and joined the others. When they pulled themselves out, they all left the water and followed the same path that the first had earlier.

  “What are they doing?” Willow asked.

  “I have no idea,” Mintikwa said.

  Curious, they followed them. Quietly, they pursued. They ended up in the middle of the woods, nowhere near any river or creek or stream. The animals seemed spooked. What made them so afraid? Mintikwa and Willow decided they should leave them alone and made their way back to the river.

  “This must be it,” Mintikwa said.

  “What do you mean?” Willow asked.

  “My totem is Beaver, after all,” Mintikwa said.

  “But they picked Beaver for you at the Rite,” Willow pointed out. “And you rejected him.”

  “But it really makes sense, if you think about it,” Mintikwa argued. “I do spend all my time in the river. Beaver would be a good guardian for me.”

  This wasn’t so bad, Mintikwa thought. Five days out, and he had found his totem. He thought of his mother’s insistence that he make sure it was right, but this was just too obvious. After all, he had passed on Deer and Underwater Serpent. He hadn’t taken the first animal which had crossed his path.

  “What changed?” Willow asked. “Ask yourself that,” she demanded.

  Mintikwa shook his head. “It’s time to go home,” he declared.

  Willow frowned. “I’m not so sure,” she said, pointing in the direction of the beaver. “What they were doing didn’t seem right. It was more of a bad omen than anything, not a sign for you.”

  Mintikwa felt a flash of anger. “What could you know about my totem?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” she said. “But you really need to consider why you are changing your mind now.”

  “I’m going back to the river,” Mintikwa said. Turning, he walked away.

  Willow followed after him.

  When they arrived at the water, he climbed into his canoe.

  “Where are you going?” Willow asked.

  “You’ll see,” he said. “Get in.”

  Willow sighed but then stepped into the boat. Mintikwa paddled across the river and up Big Pine Creek toward the beavers’ lodge. Mintikwa rammed the canoe into the tangle of brush and logs. He reached for one of the smaller branches and broke off a piece.

  “What are you doing?”

  Mintikwa held up the piece of wood and smiled. “I’m going to carve my totem,” he said.

  He paddled back to the river and then beached his canoe again.

  Mintikwa spent the remainder of the afternoon carving an effigy of his chosen totem. He needed something tangible to show everyone.

  When Mintikwa finished, he held up his carving proudly.

  “You like it?” he asked Willow.

  She didn’t look impressed. “It’s fine,” she said.

  “You’re still not convinced?” Mintikwa asked.

  Willow shook her head.

  “Alright. Let’s go see.” Mintikwa got up and moved toward the trees.

  “It’s almost dark,” she said. “I think you’re delirious. How about you sleep on it. And see in the morning.”

  Mintikwa shook his head. He turned away from her and moved deeper into the woods.

  “He’s lost his mind,” Willow muttered, but she took off after him.

  The beaver were gone.

  “I don’t understand,” Mintikwa said. “There were so many of them. They were here, right?”

  Willow looked about. She nodded. “Yes. This was the place.”

  “Where did they go?”

  “They moved on,” she said. “Which is what you need to do.”

  Mintikwa thought of the conversation with his mother just before leaving. She had said not to settle. But Beaver seemed so right to him now. He recalled his mother’s advice. Mintikwa sat down roughly. He grew quiet and closed his eyes, and then looked inside. He tried pushing past all his pain and hunger, and frustration.

  After a few moments, he moaned impatiently. He put his hands over his face and rubbed hard. Then he looked to the sky. “I just want to go home!” he shouted into the canopy.

  “You’re almost there,” she said. “I can feel it. Just a little while longer.”

  “This is ridiculous!” Mintikwa shook his head. “I can’t do it.”

  “You can!” Willow implored.

  “I didn’t even come here for this,” Mintikwa admitted angrily. “I don’t care about animal totems. I came to see Eddytown.” He shook his head. “But this is too much to bear,” he said, looking at Willow. “I’m going home.”

  “Wait!”

  He took off back toward the river. “I have my totem he said, gripping his effigy. This is what they wanted. We’re going home.”

  Willow ran after him.

  Mintikwa leaped over a fallen tree and then sprinted along the trail in the twilight. His anger quickly dissipated as thoughts of home crossed his mind. His excitement grew with each step. Thoughts of his mother’s cooking consumed him. His mouth watered. It would be another three days before they were home again. Would it be okay to catch a fish on the way back? He desperately wanted to get back to the river before dark. If they could make it to their canoe, they might be able to float downstream into the night and be home even sooner.

  “Slow down,” Willow called out. “Please wait. What about your vision-seeking songs?”

  Mintikwa eased up and finally stopped at the edge of a clearing.

  The wind blew sharply along the trail, and the canopy danced in the turbulent air, but it subsided as quickly as it had come. The air grew still again, seemingly hushed to silence by some greater will than his.

  “You see? This isn’t right,” Willow whispered. They crouched in the shadows and watched as the moon ducked in and out of the clouds, briefly illuminating the clearing again and again. It was an odd night, the clouds racing, and yet the air on the forest floor was still with only brief gusts of wind intruding from above.

  Mintikwa’s good mood proved tenuous. His heart sank. His scalp began to tingle.

  “I feel it too,” he whispered.

  A black veil danced chaotically against the trees. It converged on Mintikwa.

  “Soulless!” Willow shouted.

  Mintikwa deflected the attacker just in time to avoid a collision, but in so doing, lost his balance and slammed into the ground. He instinctively rolled, letting the momentum of the attack run its course, using it finally to come to his feet.

  The attacker drew a hatchet from the folds of his shirt and rushed at Mintikwa. The weapon came slicing through the air and then careened toward the top of his head, but Mintikwa leaped aside just before it connected. For a brief moment, his attacker was overextended and vulnerable. Mintikwa swept his foot under him, and he fell to the grou
nd. Mintikwa drew his knife. The Dark One rolled away and was on his feet. He rushed at him again. Mintikwa leaped aside as before, but this time the Soulless anticipated his move and knocked his weapon away.

  Mintikwa’s knife flew into the bushes.

  In a sudden burst of fury, the Soulless rushed at him. Mintikwa had never seen one of the Dark Ones up close. Immediately he saw hatred in his adversary’s eyes, hate for him. It ran through Mintikwa. Despite the chaos of their melee, he wondered how he could be so utterly despised by someone whom he had never before encountered? What was behind such intense ill will? Mintikwa blocked and dodged as best he could, but his fasting had taken its toll.

  For the first time, he saw the stark paleness of the Soulless’s skin up close. It was truly alien. It reminded Mintikwa of serpent skin, but what struck him most was the familiarity of what lay under it. In their deadly dance, he watched fingers grasp and shift; he saw muscles flex and knuckles strike. Stardust lay embedded in the surface texture. It shimmered in the fading light. Oddly, it reminded him of his Great-horned Serpent vision. As he slammed into him, the skin of his enemy was warm. For some reason, he had expected it to be frigid. His foe countered with fluidity and ferocity born of grace, all mirrored in his mind by his very own people, their warriors. Mintikwa had a strange thought in the face of so much violence whirling about him. As a name used to describe his foe, Soulless, corpse of the dead, just didn’t fit. At that moment, Mintikwa realized that the name had been born of fear and hatred for the Dark Ones, not from any real characteristic of them. True, the skin was pale and bizarre, but it was a stretch to call them Soulless. His foe gleamed with life.

  His fevered contemplations were cut off.

  Willow shouted at him. “Focus!”

  She must have perceived his distraction. In her voice, he could sense Willow fearing for his life.

  His reserves quickly depleted. His exhaustion left his defenses open a moment too long. He saw the weapon coming for his head, arched his back, and twisted, which saved his skull, but left his side wide open. The tip of the hatchet landed bluntly against his ribs.

  The force of the blow sent him sailing to the ground. Pain split Mintikwa’s side. Instinctively, he balled up.

  Mintikwa struggled to lift his head against the searing pain. It was near to impossible, but he had to get up. He squeezed his side and stood.

  His foe smiled devilishly and stepped toward Mintikwa, confidence brewing in his eyes, knowing that he had hurt him badly enough and could now best him. Indeed, Mintikwa was sure that this Soulless was too much for him. The opportunity drew near to end his life.

  Willow intercepted the Dark One. Soulless instantly lunged for her.

  Mintikwa saw the fury in her eyes. As the Dark One fell upon Willow, her palm shot forward blindingly quick and into his face, cracking his nose and knocking him head over heels to the ground.

  Mintikwa stumbled back. His chest heaved and burned. At the moment, all he had the energy for was to wait and see.

  Impossibly, the Soulless lifted his head and then pulled his body up with one arm. And then he slowly stood.

  Mintikwa moaned with incomprehension.

  The combatants circled each other.

  The Dark One struggled to stay standing. His arms hung loosely. Blood dripped from his nose. His eyes spun about, seemingly on the verge of unconsciousness.

  Willow lunged for her foe. The Soulless dodged. They circled. Willow struck again, knocking him to the ground.

  He got up again, and this time his face split into a sinister grin, his teeth stained crimson from his own blood.

  It was a sight difficult to believe. A second wind? He remembered the stories told by returning warriors of great feats of strength in battle by the Dark Ones. He seemed to be in the midst of a rebirth.

  He moved to speak. “Deceiver,” the Dark One hissed.

  Mintikwa was shaken. He speaks my language?

  Did Willow know? Mintikwa glanced at her. She didn’t seem as shocked as he was.

  “Tell me, where is the Lake Erie talisman?” the Soulless said.

  “What?” Mintikwa asked. “What talisman?”

  The Dark One shook his head, wrung his hands, and settled into a stance, eager to resume the fight.

  But before the fight could begin anew, Willow cut it off. Mintikwa had never seen anything like it, an object flying so fast as to bring the moment to an end before it begins. The knife, tumbling blade over handle through the air, ended its flight before he realized what Willow had done. From the folds of her shirt, she had produced the sleek weapon. The deadly brilliant white bone whirled through the air. It struck the Soulless in the throat. Luckily for the Dark One, only the handle of the weapon hit him. It bounced away to the ground. Almost as quickly, Willow was flying toward her foe, compressing the distance between them. She leaped and then landed feet first onto the Soulless’s chest. Her hands wrapped around his neck. With her momentum, he fell straight back, and his head struck the ground hard. She was on top of him in the next instant, her triceps flexed, driving her palms into his throat. She was strangling him.

  “Stop!” Mintikwa shouted, running to her. The Dark One was out cold, unconscious.

  “He’s done,” Mintikwa said.

  “So?” Willow snarled.

  “That’s enough,” Mintikwa said.

  “He tried to kill us!” Willow exclaimed.

  “And you stopped him,” he said.

  Willow groaned, disapproving of Mintikwa, but knowing he was on the moral high ground, she rolled away. She was back on her feet in an instant.

  She and Mintikwa waited.

  Somehow he expected their attacker to get up again, but he didn’t move. Mintikwa moved in. Warily, he prodded him once with his foot, gently at first, but then more sharply. The Dark One did not respond.

  Had he been the one in the woods spying on Mintikwa and Hare?

  The realization suddenly hit him that here before him was one of those responsible for the death of his father, of his grandfather and uncle, and many others among his family. He searched his heart for demands for justice. Surprisingly, he found none. The great war was long ago, and many vengeful, reciprocal raids had occurred since. Unconscious and lying flat on his back, their foe was more a boy than a monster. In fact, the longer Mintikwa looked upon him, the more he realized the Dark One was likely younger than he or Willow. Mintikwa grew light-headed. He knelt down.

  “Hey,” Willow said. “Don’t get too close.”

  Mintikwa looked into the features of the Soulless and was stunned by what he found. If it weren’t for his exotic skin, he could’ve easily passed for one of their own. Immediately, Mintikwa’s heart changed where the Soulless were concerned. All the stories said one thing, but his conscience said another. In one regard, it seemed absurd to spare someone who tried to kill him, but in his gut, he knew it was right.

  The fight was over.

  Exhaustion overcame Mintikwa. Blackness consumed his vision. He fell to the earth and, in the next instant, lost consciousness.

  When he awoke, he found himself in near darkness. Only the faintest light filtered through the canopy. A sliver of the moon hung low on the horizon.

  He lay still and listened.

  He was alone.

  Where is Willow?

  He risked a look around.

  The shadows had utterly consumed the forest floor. He called out to her, but the woods quickly absorbed his voice.

  Mintikwa staggered down the trail toward the river and his canoe, but soon his battered body protested, and he had to stop. He swayed where he stood. He felt dizzy. He went down on one knee.

  Finally, he pulled himself up and tried to stand. Mintikwa teetered. He took a step. A sharp pain erupted from his side. He winced and went down again in the blackness of the forest.

  Dawn broke from the hills to the east, and light winked through the woods and over the water. It played against the sandy shore where Mintikwa lay sleeping but soon fell
over his eyelids and then danced on them mischievously until he stirred. His was a hard and fast sleep that lasted through the night, but still, he was near dead to the world. His stomach ached, but it seemed to have given up on food. It no longer bothered him with hunger pangs.

  He stubbornly squinted out the dazzling light. Eventually, he relented to the persistent summer sun and finally awoke. He groaned as he sat up and stretched.

  Looking out at the river, he marveled at how he could have ended up on its shore. Last he knew, he lay in the woods to the east, though vague impressions passed before his mind of someone propping him up and getting him down to the river. Was it Willow? It must have been Willow.

  He raised his arms and winced at the pain in his left side. The pain might be the reason he felt no hunger at the moment. He gingerly touched his ribs and found a wicked bruise under the skin.

  Somehow in the fight, Mintikwa lost his totem, the piece he had fashioned after encountering Beaver, a symbolic representation of the spirit animal. Mintikwa realized now that, as signs go, this was a clear indication he had chosen wrong.

  The river eased by. Ripples lapped at the sandy shore below the towering trees. His canoe lay on the bank where they had beached it the previous day in search of beaver. There was no sign of beaver now.

  He stepped into the shallows. The cool water relieved his sore feet. He waded toward the center of the river. He imagined the depths where the fish lay, those bottom dwellers that grew as big as a man. He thought of his uncle and their fishing. He wished they were together now. He imagined Uncle Saul could lift his spirits.

  Mintikwa walked until the water rose to his waist. He sunk in and let it rise past his bruised ribs. The coolness felt good, and he opened his heart to its healing powers. He eased in, up to his neck. He closed his eyes and felt the embrace of the big river soothe his bruised, battered, and starving body. And prop up his soul.

  Willow had disappeared. His heart sank as he recalled the events of last evening, and he feared for his friend.