Rabbit Boss

by Thomas Sanchez

  “Ayas! Antelope! He is Dead! Your brother is Dead! Let go the knife he is Dead!”

  Deep in my hand the stoneknife was pushed out in the giving flesh. The words came through all the sobs heaving from my chest. Through the tears running from my eyes I could see Memdewi. He repeated his words.

  “Your brother is Dead! Deer is Dead! Let go the knife he is dead!”

  My fingers tightened even more on the knife, and slowly I pulled the blade up from its forced path until it was withdrawn. There was no sign of life in the flesh of the brown body. It lay perfectly still. It would not rise up. Deer was Dead. The knife had not been needed for a long time. I opened my fingers around the handle, letting it slip from my blood soaked hand to the ground. I straightened myself up on my knees. The tears coming silently from my eyes, flowing from all parts of my emptiness onto the Earth next to the body of my brother, Dead, the stone of his weight without movement.

  “You have learned life,” Memdewi spoke. He did not come to me and rub with his thumbs the tears from my eyes. He did not come to me and help me stand, supporting the weakness in my knees. He sent his words to me again. Leaving me alone.

  “You have learned life.”

  The weather rolled over us, turning up black all above our heads. I knew the way back. The mountains grew tall before me, but my feet carried me on the straight path. The trail home was the trail coming. In many places the clumps of bushes growing thick along the trail had been eaten down and shaped the smoothed roundness of a fist from the Deer we had tracked the days before. Deer who had fallen beneath my knife and whose flesh had been carefully taken, cut into strips and packed within the folds of his hide strapped across the length of my shoulders. Days ago Deer had eaten of these same bushes, chewing the green in his mouth, swallowing the green food for his belly while the weather turned over his head. I had taken the power of this green food from his belly, when the stoneknife cut the life out of his neck the power of all green food passed from his belly to my heart. These green bushes growing from the Earth were my food, gave me strength to carry my flesh back to the people, to return into them the power of strong legs running in strong dreams. Behind me Memdewi came, following my steps and the clawed thrust of the high arched antlers that I carried before me in my hands. Memdewi sang away the new burden of flesh I supported on my back. He laughed at the stars when they came out and jumped like Frogs between the banging clouds, he sang when the morning flew out of the east and drove rain down on our heads, he sang as the water washed the dust from his face, he sang as this first rain of the season was sucked into the Earth and wetted the thirsty throat of the mountain. He sang up the burden of stolen flesh strapped to my back. He sang the burden far into the clouds going white and sailing high, leaving the Sky open and blue when we came over the knot of brown hills rolling down from the tongues of mountain. Memdewi’s voice grew louder, shaking the air all around, singing the people up from the hills, bringing the people all around us with the smiles of leaping joy on their faces as I passed into them, the meat on my back, the green power in my heart and the tall bladed antlers carried high before me. The people gathered themselves into a circle. Already the fires were going, the snapping brush and hard blackroots blazing up a white smoke as the people moved around the singing of Memdewi. The people had come across brown hills from many directions to form this circle. They had come to watch me go into the day of Man. The circle they formed was powerful. From the elbows of some the feather of the Eagle was strung, Musege. The long braids tossed over shoulders of many were tied with the skin of Fox, around necks hung the claw of Bear, and flashing against the chest of one the tooth of Red Cat, Musege. So much power flowed through the circle and to the fire at its center that it pulled me with strong unseen hands into its force. The stolen flesh was being lowered from my shoulders, but when it was gone the burden was not taken with it, the weight of flesh still clung to me, I had taken it forever upon my body, the stone weight of its green power filled my heart. Before me I held high the bone wedge power of the antlers, Musege, taken with the stoneknife in my own hand. I stood at the center and felt the force of the circle flow into me through the shape of Memdewi’s song. All these words I heard, “Ayas has come this day the Man. His magic is not that of a boy, his magic is that of strong legs running. His power broke the medicine of Deer. His Musege has won the time of Deer’s Musege. He took Deer with his own hand, a Man. He took him body to body, a Man. He took the green power and the strong legs running and he brings it into you. It is his gift. The gift of power. The gift of Musege. He waited in the tree for this power. He waited with the stoneknife in his hand. When Deer passed beneath with antlers that could tear the bowels from Bear Ayas dropped not too soon. Ayas dropped behind the antlered spears of bone and took Deer with his own hand, a Man. He has brought his power into you. Eat of his flesh. Receive of the gift. The flesh is now days old and can pass into you and won’t make your belly ache. It will harden your medicine. But Ayas will not eat of this flesh he has taken, all the close family of Ayas will not eat of this flesh, it is the source of their power, they cannot eat of their own, it makes the Spirit ill, they cannot feast on their own flesh, to do so is to break their medicine, to do so is to die. But you must eat, receive this power, this gift of the new Man among us.” Memdewi’s song hung in the air as he lifted the antlers from my hands and took long steps toward the fire then spun around, his painted face streaked with black lines of soot and grease. He held the antlers the full length of his arms over his head, “Now it is come. Ayas must go into the Man. We wait the Sign.” He flung the antlers upside down and pointed them into the Earth so they formed a high bone arc. “Pass now into the Man, Ayas. Pass beneath these horns of power without their touching your skin. The trail home is the trail coming. You have made your own door into tomorrow. Show us your medicine was enough to make the door large enough for you to pass into Man and carry all the people with you.” I fell to my knees and crawled to the blade of bone arched over the Earth, I went down before it on my belly, passing first my head through, then the bare skin of my shoulders, avoiding the cold touch of bone, snaking my hips into the hard dirt until I had come through, on the other side. I stood on my own two feet and rose to meet the Birds the people sent out from their mouth, their loud calls shook the Sky as they shouted their Joy. Memdewi’s song came up through all the sounds of happiness and laughter singing in my ears. “Antelope has gone into Man! The Sign has been shown us! His body passed through the horns of bone, the horns are not too small, he passed through them, they did not fall over, his magic won’t bring him bad luck as a hunter, his magic will never desert his strong legs running, no matter what his prey! This is the Sign given us! What he has killed is big enough for him to pass through. He takes only that which befits a Man. His medicine is Big. Take his gift!” The time of Mendewi’s song swelled, a man came down from a high rock and tied an Eagle feather around my knee. The meat of Deer cracked on the fires, the old people huddled close to receive the heart and liver while the children ran with handfuls of buckberries and cooked grasshoppers. Memdewi came to me in his song, his outstretched palm before me filled with the sweet eggs of the Bee. I took them to my lips and their taste jumped in my mouth. I looked up to what called me across the Sky, an arrow of Ducks flying upstream. Musege.

  1

  THE FOX was close. The smell of Rabbit flesh closer. The woman of his son even closer. She sat at the edge of the slow water. The Sun touched all of her naked shoulders. The brown arch of her back glowed as she bent to wash her feet in the slow water. At her side were lined five Rabbits. Their skin had been cut free and their guts pulled clean. She had held them deep in the current of the stream until all the blood had flowed from them and the meat of their bodies was left white. Her back straightened, she brought her feet from the water and dried them in the tall grasses. The sharp musk of ginger grew up around her. Her hands parted the soft blades of grass and exposed a swirl of purple flowers spreading among the whiteroots of g
rass. She tore loose the plant pressed against the damp Earth and shook the rootstock free of clinging sod before pulling the length of its whitestem between two fingers, exploding the moist fragrance in her hands. Her hands held all the fragrance, she slowly rubbed it in the thick hair beneath her outstretched arms, then deep into the darkness between her legs. Her nostrils widened, her body bore the scent of wild ginger, the full purple bloom of its flower she tucked high into the black hair of her head. She rose from the grass and turned her back to the stream. Before her was the man of her heart. Her eyes touched his in the moment, as if the flight of two Birds suddenly crossed. His eyes saw away from her. His eyes saw only gray, the blink of the Fox eye. But she saw his shoulders bent with her burdens. His shoulders weighed beneath her offense, for the boychild she gave to him was brought out of her body in winter, that was the sign shown to her she had wronged the man Gayabuc. That was the offense. Now he had journeyed far from her heart. His dream lived with the White Ghosts he had seen eat of their own flesh on yonder lake, his Spirit journeyed there always, to yonder lake, his eyes saw away from her only to that day, emptied his body of all else. She heard the call of her name. “Painted Stick! Painted Stick!” The sound did not come from the man standing before her. It came from behind him, where the people were gathered on the meadow with all of the work of the Rabbit hunt going on before them. “Painted Stick! Painted Stick,” the young girl calling her name came running past the man, holding in her arms the straight back cradle with the crying boychild. “He has sucked milk from Hinaya, his belly is full. But he will not close his eyes until he has tasted milk from the breast of his woman.” The girl brought the baby forward to Painted Stick, then she stopped. The scent of wild ginger raced in the air, it flew off the body of Painted Stick. The girl saw the full purple flash of flower high in Painted Stick’s hair and her lips came off her teeth in a smile, she spun around and looked with the smile straight at the man, then ran with the baby back into the people. Painted Stick did not look into the eyes of the man, she quickly ran past him, following the girl.

  The Fox was close. The woman was no longer near. The scent of Rabbit flesh was before him. He went to the stream and scooped handfuls of water to his mouth, his breath came heavy and sent a spray of water from his hand as he drank. The bloodless meat of five Rabbits the woman left behind had already dried in the Sun. He watched the dark knot of flies dart at the split bellies, the sting of their buzz sounded a song in his ears. The song screamed loud through his head as he watched the black hulls of the flies stick at the white meat. He remembered the scream of the goose on yonder lake, how that scream merged with another sound that exploded on the lake shore, a sound shaking the snow from trees, crashing up the rise of slope, ripping everything of meaning in its path, driving into him like the jagged flint of an arrow tip. The sound of the White Ghosts as they ate of their own flesh. He watched them moving slowly on the snow, clumsy, like Bears in water. He had watched through the trees. Had watched them hunched, away from each other, mouths tearing at flesh, faces smeared the color of the dying Sun. The Fox was near. The Fox of the Earth was released. The eye of the Fox blinked before him as the flies swarmed on the white meat of the Rabbits.

  The smell of the Fox was strong. The Rabbit Chief rose and looked from the work of the Rabbit to see his son. He saw the woman of his son with her back against the smooth willow trunk and her boychild sucking the milk from her breast. This the Chief of the Rabbit saw, but the son who had given him the dream of the Fox he did not see, in no place could his eyes find the man Gayabuc. He sat upon the ground again with the work of the Rabbit before him. The white days had been many and long, longer than any he could remember into the time when he was a boy. But the length of the white days had passed, as everything must pass. Now was the time of the first season. The small Bird could again be heard in the forest. The taking of the Rabbit had passed well. Rabbit was weak, Rabbit was without much flesh, but he was many and the bellies of the people had grown hard like stones. The taking of the Rabbit had passed well, now the people had their want, today they had their need. All the people had their want, each family had many Rabbits that had been trapped forever in their part of the long net. The Rabbits of his family were before him, again he began the work, splitting the thick winter hides from the long stiffened bodies. The blade of his stoneknife cut into the hind legs of a Rabbit, carefully slicing a spiral that spun around the outside of the body’s meat He held the knife between bis teeth as he flung the Rabbit with a quick stroke of his wrists and tore with strong fingers the spiral of cut skin up from the hind legs and across the body. He passed the stripped body to the old woman seated next to him who ran her sharp stone up in under the ribcage and down, spilling the guts out in a soft mound on the grass. He smoothed the wet skin he had just torn from the body and cut it into long strings the width of his smallest finger. He was the Chief of the Rabbit and he looked up from the work before him. All across the meadow the people had the work of the Rabbit before them, many had already begun their fires for the feast of the Rabbit flesh. He would not eat of this flesh. He was the Chief of Rabbits, he took only their power, not their flesh, to eat of their meat would be to eat of himself, he would lose the power of the Rabbit. He would die. The Chief of the Rabbit felt his power as his knife cut the long strings of hide, it would take the furred hide of thirty Rabbits to make the warm robe to cover two people during the long white days. The cut strings of the hides would be sewn together, then twisted out two thick around a pointed stick, by late into the day of the following Sun the long twisted strings of Rabbit skin would be rolled tight and bound by the rope of the hollow water plant, ready to be woven into the tapered length of a blanket, the Dayoliti. All across the meadow the work went on before the people. The Rabbit Chief could smell the flesh of Rabbit bodies racked over high flames, he rose and stamped his feet on the ground, stirring the stinging blood that had been held back by sitting on his crossed legs over the many hours with the work before him. He moved among the people, they had their want, they had their need. He felt the necklace of Rabbit toes around his neck. From each driving hunt of the Rabbit in which he led the people he hung the toes of the largest Rabbit. Today his necklace for the first time since the long white days, was heavier, the added power tugged at his neck, he tried to wear it naturally as he went among the people in the last light of the falling Sun. Already the eyes of the roasting Rabbits were bulging up white out of their heads, some of the people had begun to eat, the meat was tough and sharp in the mouth, it was all eaten except the power between the legs which had been cut free and buried. Everywhere the eyes bulged white in burning bodies, the man moving among the people who was the Rabbit Chief ate not of this meat, ate not of his own flesh, if he did the power would go out of him, he would die Powerless.

  The scent of the Fox was strong as the Sun pushed itself out of the east down into the high mountain meadow. The Chief of the Rabbit had been watching for the first light. He had sat on his Rabbit Robe since the night’s beginning darkness when the first star fired low over the trees in the great distance. The Evening Star was his power. The First Star was the sign of the Rabbit Hunter, stalking the empty Sky over the whole of the Earth, and in the night finding every hidden star. The flash of the Evening Star held his power, he had watched it through the night as it stalked the Moon. With the opening light of dawn the Hunting Star disappeared, the power was gone. The Chief of the Rabbit sat erect on his Rabbit Robe, the dawn of the new day he had been watching for had come. Far into the shadow of the trees surrounding the meadow he could hear the tramping of leaves and the slap of low branches against running bodies. All before him the people slept, all except one. He could feel the one that was awake and had been watching with him. Somewhere along the banks of the slow water, hidden from the work of the Rabbit, watched the one who had given him the dream, the one who had shown him the flesh of the Ghost on yonder lake, the one who had given him the dream of the Fox, his son Gayabuc. He could feel Gayabuc
watching with him, he knew Gayabuc could hear the sound of running bodies deep in the shadow of the trees. When the sound of the running bodies finally broke from the shadows into the meadow and the high shouts sent all the stillness out of the air he knew Gayabuc no longer watched. All around him the people came awake, the two runners who had broke free of the trees lay exhausted on the grass, their chests beating like the wings of great Owls as they sucked at the air and tried to heave up the words they had run so far with. The women pushed their way to the front and gave the two runners water and the cooked flesh of Rabbit. The people fell silent as the two men drank and tore at the cooked flesh. The people waited for the words. The Chief of the Rabbit came forward, the Fox of the Earth was released, the dream his oldest son Gayabuc had given him crawled out into the day. One of the runners looked up into the Rabbit Chiefs face and spoke the words he had been watching for. “The Ghost lives. We have seen them. They are come.” The Chief of the Rabbit turned away, his eyes went off to where the Sun was being born, there was no need to watch the runner, it was his youngest son, “And what did you see of them Basa my son?” The runner stood and directed his words at the man his father, who had his back to him. “We have seen the ones Gayabuc watched on yonder lake. We have seen the White Ghosts. We have seen them who eat the flesh from their bodies.” “And how many Ghosts did you number,” a man spoke. The runner turned to the man who made his way up from the slow water. The man came through the people and stood at the center, it was the face of his own brother. “They are many, Gayabuc. They come in a line from underneath where the Sun is born each day. They are many different kinds of beasts.” “What is their kind?” “Some are of the man walking upon two legs. Some are of the woman, walking the same. Some move over the ground in turning houses covered by a white cloud. Some walk on four legs like the Elk, sharp horns grow out of their heads like knives, their skin is short like moss and they pull the turning houses covered by a white cloud. They are all wild stone-eyed beasts.” “Can you lead us up to these Ghosts?” “Yes, the way is not far for feet that are fast walking.” “Then we will go.” “No, our path does not lead to them,” the chief of the Rabbit turned and faced his two sons. “Our path leads here, the work of the Rabbit is before us, we have our want.” He flung his Rabbit Robe up under his chin and over his shoulder so it flared off his back. Gayabuc looked to him, but his eyes saw beyond him, where the Fox had escaped from the Earth, “The Ghost is upon us. We must go up to the Ghost.” The Rabbit Chief slid a hand beneath his robe and it came back with the stoneknife in it, he sent the knife into the Earth between his son’s legs so its blade was buried to the wood hilt, “We must hide in the trees, always the trees, it is the way of our people. It is the way of the Ancestors. If we bring ourselves too close to the Ghost we will die.” Gayabuc released his fathers knife from the Earth, then flung it in a swift arc until its blade struck against the bark of a pinetree and fell broken to the ground, “We go up to the Ghost.” “Wait,” a man whose hide had wrinkled and pulled into deep furrows all along his body from the constant river of Suns that ran the course of his long life stepped forward, the white-black skin of the Skunk was folded over his thin arm, the sacred shell from the sea that caught all the colors of the rainbow hung from his neck, he put the shell to his lips and blew through the tiny hole drilled in its base until a high distant whistle shrilled up from the shell and stabbed the low blue Sky. The people drew back and turned their eyes to the power of the sacred whistle, waiting for the Man of Medicine to speak his tongue, “There comes a time in the turning of each year when the Sun and the Moon shine on the same day. On that day all things are not as they should be. It is not night, it is not day. The Owl hunts in the cold light of the Moon, the Hawk hunts in the hot light of the Sun. The Owl and the Hawk hunt together, it is not night, it is not day. The Moon and the Sun follow around the brow of the Sky, but neither light is stronger than the other, neither power wins. There are two powers in one space. The people can follow the way of Gayabuc and go up to the White Ghost. But the people can also follow the way of the Rabbit Chief and go up to the White Ghost, but not put their bodies too close to the White Musege, to get too close to the power of the Ghost and look him in the face is to die. The people can follow the wild stone-eyed beast and watch him from the trees.” “You speak the water of truth,” Gayabuc answered the Man of Medicine’s words. “We go up to the Ghost.” The Boss of the Rabbit laughed, his lip jerked up over his teeth and he laughed, “The words you both speak flow into a hole and their truth is not to be seen. Our ancestors have spoken of White giants, with armor arrows could not pierce, who came among us and stole the children. There have been stories told among other peoples that have come to my ears and I have kept silent upon them. Now I will let these words forth: Out of the hotlands the Paiute tell of the Ghosts with skin like snow, they are these same wild stone-eyed beasts, they carry no bows, but sticks, sticks over which they work their medicine. The Paiute tell of how an Indian got too close to their power, had looked in their faces, and they worked their medicine on their sticks, sending out a burst of fire and clap of thunder, making the Indian fall at a great distance with a hole torn in his heart. For this we have no teaching, no words from the past, no power. Gayabuc has watched these Ghosts eat the flesh from their own bodies, they devour their own power, from this springs all bad medicine, from this springs all evil.” Gayabuc turned away from his father’s words and spoke to the people, “The Ghost is many and near. He is in our Mountain House. We go up to the Ghost. There is no teaching.” “Gayabuc, my son,” the Chief of the Rabbit came forward and placed both hands on his son’s shoulders. “We have been hungry. We have been hungry and gone through the long white days, now we have our want, the Rabbit is before us, the work of the Rabbit is before us, we have our need. Our bellies are full of Rabbit flesh, so many Rabbits have come into our nets we cannot get them all into our stomachs. Look about you, the ground is covered with the rotting bodies of Rabbits, we have so many we can only strip the hide from them to twist our Rabbit blankets together, their bodies we fling down to fester in the Sun and stink the air, our stomachs are already filled with too much flesh. For this we do have teaching, we must not walk away from the work of the Rabbit. We must dry out his flesh and pound it into powder to be eaten another day, even then we still have too much. We must stay here and make of his skin blankets for the long white days, we must use of him what we can, to walk away from the work before us is to violate our brother the Rabbit, he will no longer be good to us, he will no longer come into our nets to give us meat, to give us fur for our blankets, his power will escape us. We must not abuse our Brother. For this we do have teaching.” “The Chief of the Rabbit speaks of the true way;” the Man of Medicine stroked the blackwhite Skunk skin hung from his arm, “yes, for this we do have teaching. Bear does not eat more Fish than his belly can hold. Bear is Big, he is strong, his paws are the size of a man’s head, he hunts Fish in the quiet pools, but he hunts only what he can eat, only what he can use, he does not abuse his Brother, he does not pull Fish from the waters until he has too much to eat, leaving the flesh of his Brother piled high on the grasses to rot in the Sun. The Chief of the Rabbit speaks of the true way, the work of the Rabbit is before us, we cannot turn from our Brother.” The Rabbit Chief struck his hands together, ringing out two loud claps in the silence, “Then we must go to the work before us. Come, let us go, the Sun already grows tall in this day.” “There is time on this day;” the Man of Medicine held the Skunk skin up so it caught the full face of the Sun in a glare on its surface, “there is time on this day to follow the trail of the old way, and, there is time to follow the trail of the new way for which we have no teaching. The children will stay behind and with them their women, the work of the Rabbit can go on before them as the men go up to the Ghost.” He turned his back on all the women gathered round, “From this time forth my eyes will not cross one woman whose blood flows to the Earth in her season. I am the Hunter, the luck will leav
e, the power go out of me. I turn my back on all women. It is the time of the Man.” The men joined the Man of Medicine and put their backs to the women, they stood in silence and kept their eyes high to the distant mountain peaks until all the women had gone away to the work of the Rabbit. The Man of Medicine turned and brought the men around in a circle, “This then is the time, we go up to the Ghost, each man must walk with his own power, each man must call up the medicine within to shelter him from the wild stone-eyed beasts.” The Rabbit Chief threw his robe into the center of the circle and stopped the Man of Medicine’s words, “If we are to go up to the Ghost we must be sly, we must look with our eyes into our heads like Coyote. Remember, we are few, the Ghost is many. Remember the days past when the Salmon Eaters came over the mountains and took away a Washo woman. The Salmon Eaters were many, we were few. We sent out the knotted Deer thong to the south where the Crazy Warriors live among the boulders. The warriors answered the Deer thong, they came up to us, they were many, strong and crazy, crazy brave. We ran with the Crazy Warriors to where the Salmon Eaters were sleeping under their blankets, even their longtooth Dogs were sleeping. We came down and broke their skulls with our clubs and killed them in the belly with our knives. Then we killed up all the Dogs, we were all crazy and danced strong. The fire went high and we danced with the hair of the Salmon Easters waving from the tops of our long poles. We danced crazy strong until the first Sun hit the tall trees, then we threw the hair of the Salmon Eaters into the fire and ran crazy with the woman back to the baskets of pinenut soup waiting in our camp. Let us send out the Deer thong to our crazy brothers so that they may join us as many and go up to the Ghost.” “No,” Gayabuc leaned forward across the circle to face the Rabbit Chief. “If we send out the Deer thong to the Crazy Warriors it will take three days running, we cannot wait, we will lose the Ghost.” “Yes my son, you are speaking the truth of the Owl, if we wait three days for the Crazy Warriors the time may have passed us, we may go up to the Ghost and he will be gone.” “Then we must go now,” Gayabuc glared across the circle at his father. “Except for the Acorn Eaters.” “What of the Acorn Eaters? They roam beneath the trees of brown rain in the valleys beyond the snow on the far side of the mountains. What of their people?” “Only this,” the Rabbit Chief looked over his shoulder to make certain the Acorn Eaters were not hiding behind the billow of the fast sailing white clouds. “We are few, the Ghost is many. What if we go up to the Ghost and he has the power of the Acorn Eaters. What if we go up to the Ghost and he has the power to charm us to sleep! We are few, the power of the Ghost could come over us too strong and make us fall down asleep, then the Ghost could come up to us and steal our medicine, strip our flesh and leave us broken of all strength. Let us send out the Deer thong to the Crazy Warriors, then we would be many and crazy-strong, our medicine too big to break, the Ghost would not rob our power and charm us to sleep, we would stand crazy-strong, we would survive the Ghost.” Gayabuc broke from the circle, he took a few steps to the cold pit of a fire from the night past. He dipped his fingers into the white ash, in quick strokes smeared it across his chest, down over his arms, up under his neck and over his face. He stood and faced the circle of men, the upper half of his brown body gone white from the ashes, “I go up to the Ghost, my body is invisible, the flesh of burnt wood hides all my wounds from the eye of the Ghost, he cannot find my old hurts and give me a dream, he cannot find my old wounds and charm me to sleep.” Gayabuc pulled up the long hair that hung down around his face across his shoulder. He parted it into two plaits and wove a thick braid, then yanked the Eagle feather free from the leather necklace around his neck and tied it to the end of the long rope of hair. He spoke to the men again, throwing the black braid over his shoulder so it hung down his back, the blade of the Eagle feather pointing straight to the Earth. “I am invisible. I am crazy-strong. I go up to the Ghost.” He turned and his feet carried him with quick strides away from the men. “The branch cannot be broken from the Tree!” The Man of Medicine called across the meadow, his words stopping Gayabuc. “If you go up to the Ghost alone they can break the branch from the Tree. That is not the way. We must go as one, or we go not at all. Come back and join the circle. If we go, we go as the Tree. The branch alone can be broken, the Tree cannot, its roots are deep, its trunk growing thick and powerful, its many branches rising intertwined to the heavens. Come back to the circle and we will pass the Deer thong.” Gayabuc came back and placed his body in the circle of men and they waited for the Man of Medicine to speak. The Man of Medicine stretched his arm into the center of the circle so the black-white folds of the Skunk skin could be equally seen by all, “We will pass the Deer thong, those who on this day want to go up to the Ghost behind Gayabuc will leave the Deer thong free. Those who want to run for the Crazy Warriors and go up to the Ghost as many and strong behind the Chief of the Rabbit will tie their knot in the Deer thong.” He slipped the Skunk skin from his arm and exposed hanging from his hand the narrow Deer skin with the sign of Coyote and Bear cut precisely into the length of its soft surface. He held the Deer thong up and let it sway back and forth so the odor of nut oil rubbed into the shining hide was heavy all through the air. He pulled the skin down and passed it on to the man next to him, then cast his eyes to the Earth. The man at his side handed the thong on to the one next to him, then turned his eyes downward. The Deer thong passed through the hands of every man, leaving the scent of its nut oil thick in the palms of each and filling the very center of the circle. The Deer thong came back to the Man of Medicine, he placed the thong over the black-white skin draped from his outstretched arm in the center of the circle so it could be equally seen by all. One knot was tied in the middle.