Algonquin Sunset

by Rick Revelle

  When we arrived at the shoreline of Misko Zhiishiib’s village with one hundred and sixty-five warriors and thirty dogs, it was like walking into a swarm of bees. People ran about hailing old friends, dogs barked, children and women laughed, and a few of our greeters pounded on drums to welcome us.

  After spending the night at Misko Zhiishiib’s village, feasting and drumming, we left at dawn and arrived at Zhashagi’s community before dusk.

  With the Ouendat from the south and the warriors from the surrounding Anishinaabe nations, we now totalled about three hundred and fifty fighters — an enormous number of men to move downriver, which had to be done swiftly and stealthily if we hoped to catch the Nadowessioux unaware.

  Our canoe was beside Zhashagi’s as we pulled our boats ashore. While we were doing this a tall warrior whom I immediately recognized stepped out of the teeming mass of people accompanied by two young men. The warrior walked up and grasped Zhashagi in a huge embrace.

  “Omashkooz, it’s such a pleasure to see you so healthy!” exclaimed Zhashagi. He then glanced at the two young men with his brother. “It doesn’t look as if my brother was eating dog this winter. I take it your hunting was successful.”

  Omashkooz laughed. “Brother, they supplied me and my wife with more than enough. We were giving food away!”

  The boys shyly looked up and smiled.

  “You’ve upheld your part of the bargain and now I’ll uphold mine,” Zhashagi said. “Prepare yourselves to leave for battle tomorrow and gather your weapons!” “Before you go, though, this is my friend, Anokì, son of the great Omàmiwinini chief Mahingan. Anokì, these are two first-time warriors, Mayagi-bine and his brother, Bikwak.”

  The boys nodded in my direction, and Bikwak said, “It’s our pleasure to meet you. Omashkooz has told us many things about you and your people, especially the warrior Mitigomij.”

  I laughed. “He might be exaggerating some of his tales.”

  Zhashagi studied the two boys. “I’m sure Omashkooz has told you what’s expected of you as first-time warriors, but let me tell you a few things, too. You can never get your feet wet getting in or out of a canoe on this trail. You must wear black war paint as a novice. You can’t suck the marrow out of the bones of any animals slain and eaten on this journey. Finally, you can’t sing death or war songs on this path to war. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Zhashagi, we do,” they answered together.

  “Fine. Then go and prepare. You’ll be riding in the same canoe as Omashkooz and me. We leave tomorrow. Today is eleven suns into this moon. It will take us four suns to reach where our scouts say the Nadowessioux are — downriver at the junctions of two rivers, the Gaagaagiwigwani-ziibi and the great Misi-ziibi.”

  I watched as Zhashagi then turned to his brother and grasped him around the shoulders. “Tomorrow is the start of our revenge, Brother! It’s been over a year. We’re healed and healthy. Our slain warriors will have their deaths honoured!”

  I smiled at Zhashagi and his brother. “I’ll let the two of you catch up some more. I have to join my people.”

  That night the drums beat until late, with the war post struck so many times that it ended up in splinters. There was ample food to eat, and during the evening the women came to each warrior and handed him enough food to last five days on the trail. The village had been sending out hunting parties for many suns to collect enough food to feed all the warriors once they arrived.

  Omashkooz got to his feet as the celebration neared its end. “We’ll have eighty canoes to carry our force down to the Nadowessioux camp at the junction of the Gaagaagiwigwani-ziibi and Misi-ziibi. We must make it in two days cross-country to where our boats have been made and are stored near the Negawi-ziibi (Sandy River). From there we’ll access the Misi-ziibi. Once we leave there, we’ll only be stopping at night when there’s no more daylight. There will be three scout canoes ahead of us at all times to make sure we aren’t surprised on the river. We’ll be gone tomorrow at daylight.”

  Once he finished speaking, a tremendous roar filled the village, startling the dogs and causing them to howl and bark simultaneously. The noise was so sudden and loud that some of the younger children began to cry and had to be comforted by their mothers.

  The next morning we left at dawn. Zhashagi said that about thirty of the women and ten men who had been asked to stay behind from his village would follow in about two days to go to where the canoes were waiting and make camp there. They would be there to help with the wounded on our return, and the warriors would hunt and have fresh game for us when we arrived. Running with my Omàmiwinini friends and relatives, we made great time with a steady lope on a warrior trail, reaching the boats at sunset on the second day. Two deer had been taken just before we got to the camp, and they were divided among all the warriors, with the dogs given the bones to fight over.

  That night it rained, and when we woke in the morning, my eyes were greeted on the north side of the river by a blanket of pink flowers of the mashkode zhigaagawinzh (mush-co-day shi-ga-ga-wash: prairie onion). The pinkness of the flowers’ petals was highlighted by the sunlight glistening on the remnants of the evening’s rain. It was a wonderful and calming sight. I only hoped that it was a sign of good things to come to our group in the days ahead.

  After quickly eating a meal of cold meat and drinking some hot tea, we left in the canoes shortly past sunrise and made good time paddling downriver with the current pushing us. I was in a boat with E’s, my mother, and the two warrior women chiefs, Agwanìwon and Kìnà Odenan, along with their constant companion, Kànìkwe. I smiled when I noticed Mitigomij in the same boat as the twins and their wives.

  They all looked at me, and Wàbek asked, “You told him, didn’t you?” Then he laughed.

  They were well protected with Mitigomij and Crazy Crow. Close by on the shoreline Mitigomij’s big cat would be roaming. Mònz, Wàbìsì, Pangì Mahingan, Ki’kwa’ju, and Jilte’g were together in another canoe. The two Ouendat warriors, Achie and Önenha’, were with Zhashagi, Omashkooz, and the two Anishinaabe novice warriors. Each canoe also had dogs in it.

  We stopped at the noon sun and ate a hasty cold meal and relieved ourselves in the woods. When we halted again at sunset, the sky was fiery red and there was no wind.

  “That sky is a good omen,” Waughshe Anue said.

  I certainly hope so, I thought.

  “Anokì,” called out Kìnà Odenan, “we’ve been assigned near the front tomorrow. The Anishinaabe will man five scout boats. Zhashagi and his brother’s boat will be one of them. Our two close Ouendat friends are with Zhashagi, and they’re excited about being in the front where the first action will probably be initiated.”

  That night I didn’t sleep well. Nìj Enàndeg seemed to sense my nervousness and lay closer to me than usual. The next morning the cooking fires had ample tea and food, but most of it went untouched. Warriors silently put on their paint and handled their weapons. The dogs that morning received an abundant supply of the food that hadn’t been eaten by their masters.

  The early morning was very warm. The river had no ripples, the sky was cloudless, and a faint mist rose from the water. When I took in the scent of the pine forest, it cleared my head of any ill thoughts. Quickly drinking a serving of tea to settle my stomach, I also grabbed a piece of meat from the cooking fire. Tossing some meat to my dog, we silently settled into the canoe and pushed off along with the others.

  “Anokì,” my mother whispered, touching my shoulder, “I’ll see you in the afterlife or have tea with you tomorrow. Either way it will be a happy reunion.”

  I turned and smiled at her, then patted Nìj Enàndeg on the head. He glanced up and I said, “Watch over me, old friend.”

  As the noon sun burned down on the river, I felt the heat of the day on my bare skin. The flies must have been staying in the shade because they weren’t probing for their usual taste of blood from o
ur naked bodies. In the distance a flock of ducks ascended into the air as Zhashagi and the other four lead canoes scared them from their day’s feeding on a bend in the river.

  I heard Zhashagi turn to his brother and say, “I don’t like what just happened with those ducks!”

  The words had barely left his mouth when they rounded the bend right into the path of five canoes loaded with Nadowessioux.

  Both groups of warriors were momentarily caught off guard by the sudden surprise of each other’s appearance. But the inactivity was soon broken by a whoosh of arrows from the south shore, causing the nearest Anishinaabe canoe to flip over and take on water as the men in the boat were struck with arrows.

  Zhashagi obviously realized we were now in a lot of danger. His boat made for the closest enemy canoe, pulling up alongside so the two Ouendat warriors could react quickly. Achie plunged his spear into the neck of a shocked paddler, sending him over the side, while Önenha’ struck a young boy across the forehead with his war club, making a sound like the cracking of an egg. The enemy boy stood up, screamed in pain, and fell out of the boat, disappearing into the murky depths.

  Zhashagi then yelled over his shoulder, “We have to turn the canoe!” As the words left his mouth, a youth on the enemy boat reacted swiftly and fired an arrow that caught Mayagi-bine in the face. Zhashagi twisted just in time to see the boy slump forward onto his lap, spattering blood down his thigh and leg. Omashkooz in the rear of the canoe quickly let fly an arrow that whizzed by his brother’s head and caught another young enemy boy in the chest, sending him over the side and flipping the boat and its occupants. More arrows were arriving from the south shore, and this time they reached Zhashagi’s boat. The arrows hit the side with loud thumps and exited into the canoe’s interior, all above the waterline.

  ÓTA HEȞÁKA

  I watched the battle unfold in front of me as an enemy canoe and one of our Lakȟóta boats flipped over from the initial attacks. Quickly, I turned to Tȟatȟáŋka Kat’à and said, “Turn around, get back to the village, and warn my father and the rest of the warriors!”

  “No, Óta Heȟáka, I stay and fight with you.”

  “Go!” I ordered. “The village is more important. Go now before we’re overtaken. The rest of the Ȟaȟátȟuŋwaŋ are in sight. Go!”

  Tȟatȟáŋka Kat’à obeyed me and turned the canoe around. As he did, the boy at the back took an arrow between the shoulder blades and fell sideways off the boat. Luckily, he didn’t capsize the canoe as he tumbled out, and Tȟatȟáŋka Kat’à made his escape down the river with his companions.

  Looking back, I saw the enemy closing in fast with ten of their canoes spilling onto the shore to attack my warriors there. All that were left on the river from my group was my boat and one other with four youths in it. I yelled at them to follow me. It was suicidal to stay there with these boys and try to hold the swarm of canoes coming down the river at us.

  I turned my canoe around, came alongside the other remaining boat, and told the boys to get in with us. That would give me six paddlers and allow another older boy and me to fire arrows behind us, aiding our escape. As we were taking the others onto our canoe, a boy was hit with two arrows, one in the leg and another in the throat, spilling blood on me as I was helping him into the boat. I released him into the water and yelled to the boys to paddle as hard as they could. Then I fired an arrow at the closest boat, just missing the warrior in front. Our eyes met, I recognized him from the river ambush, and then felt an arrow slice my right shoulder, taking a good-sized chunk of skin with it as it grazed the bone.

  “Paddle!” I screamed, fitting another arrow into my bow.

  ANOKÌ

  I watched as Zhashagi’s arrow sliced through the Nadowessioux warrior we knew as Óta Heȟáka. The enemy’s arrow had narrowly missed Zhashagi before he had let his fly. He turned to his brother and cried, “Omashkooz, let them go! Another boat escaped before this one ahead of us and the enemy village will know we’re here. We must decide now how we’ll attack them.” Zhashagi’s boat was down to just his brother and Achie and Misko. The two young novice warriors were both dead along with Önenha’, the Ouendat.

  When the initial attack had come from shore, my companions and I were too far back to return fire. We watched as Zhashagi and his men sustained many losses and fought off the canoes on the river. Everyone strained at their paddles, trying to get close enough to attack. As we neared, the warriors on the shore came out of the forest and started shooting at us. Their arrows found their marks with alarming accuracy. In our boat, E’s took an arrow through his arm and slouched in the canoe. He pushed the arrow all the way through his bicep, never saying a word. Quickly, my mother tied a piece of leather above the wound and turned it tightly with an arrow to shut off the blood flow. Then Kànìkwe spread honey on the wound as E’s slumped in the boat. The canoe was riddled with arrow shafts, and a couple had pierced at the waterline, allowing water to seep in.

  I glanced toward the shore to see that the enemy had suffered some losses along with a few wounded from the return fire of our force. Of the fifteen Nadowessioux who had come out of the forest, only about ten were still standing. All of them had long sashes hanging from their waists, and now they took their long spears and drove them into the sashes, pinning themselves to the spot along the shore.

  “What are they doing?” I yelled to the boat next to me, which was full of Anishinaabe warriors.

  “I’ve seen this once before,” one of the Anishinaabe warriors replied. “They’re called the Mawátani (mee-wah-dee-nee) Society. See their owl headdresses? When members of their group are wounded, they stay with them and fight to the end or until others come and save them all. They’ll fight to the death. They’re the best of the best of the Nadowessioux! It’s a great honour to slay one of these men. They’re very brave!”

  Our boats landed on shore and we rushed the defenders. I heard a slingshot snap behind my head and saw a stunned look appear on the face of an enemy warrior in front of me as he slid to the ground with a fist-sized hole in his head. Mitigomij had been quick and sure as always! Agwanìwon raced from my side as we approached a muscular man with a huge war club. He was amazingly fast and caught her full in the face, shattering her skull. Charging the warrior, I felt blood rush to my face, causing my cheeks to heat up. Ducking a swing, I hit him hard on the left kneecap as I passed. When he dropped to his good knee, I heard a blood-curdling scream that could have only belonged to Mitigomij’s big cat.

  Looking over my shoulder, I saw Kìnà Odenan and Kànìkwe rush the man from opposite sides, both hitting him with their war clubs at the same time. The sickening crunch of broken bones and the spattering of blood on my face made me realize this was a battle unlike any I had ever been in before. The man went down in a heap at my feet, and Kìnà Odenan repeatedly smashed the body even after it stopped moving. As tears welled in his eyes, Kànìkwe pulled her away from the mangled corpse. Kìnà Odenan sobbed, then glanced up with the most frightful look I had ever witnessed. With terrifying ferocity, she rushed a wounded foe on his knees trying to pull an arrow from his shoulder. His hand was covered in blood where he had the arrow grasped, and his chest was bright red from his life fluids streaming down his chest with every beat of his heart. The wounded warrior looked up just as Kìnà Odenan reached him. The last thing he likely saw in this life was her blade slicing his throat with a single sweeping motion. She straddled the blood-soaked man and screamed like a panther, sending shivers up my spine. The sound echoed through the woods, drowning out all the noise of the surrounding battle. Combatants from both sides gazed in Kìnà Odenan’s direction to see the Warrior Woman covered in the blood of her enemies. For many years to come, the expression on her face would haunt all who had beheld her.

  Then I heard another panther scream and turned to see Makadewà Wàban hit an enemy warrior so hard that he was torn from his sash, landing the two of them in the water and changing it
to bright red. The big cat stood over his prey and dared anyone to approach.

  To the right of the cat, I watched helplessly as Wàbìsì took an arrow through the throat as she ran toward her husband, Mònz, who was struggling with a short, brawny warrior. I quickly ran toward my uncle, only to be cut off by a tall warrior who had pulled his spear from the ground and lunged at me. Raising my spear, I deflected his lunge and he stumbled slightly, but enough for Nìj Enàndeg to tear at the man’s thigh, taking a huge chunk of skin and muscle from his right leg. As he crumpled to his knees, I drove my spear into his chest and then plunged my knife into his neck. The man shuddered through the two weapons impaling his body, and when I pulled them out, he collapsed onto the ground without a word.

  Quickly, I collected my senses and pivoted to where Mònz had last been. When I saw that my uncle was dead with a spear run through his body, I bowed my head in respect. Standing next to Mònz’s fallen body and straddling a Nadowessioux warrior was Mitigomij, holding a bloodied war club.

  The fight was over so quickly that it seemed as if it had been a dream. When I surveyed the carnage, I saw fifteen Nadowessioux warriors lying dead along with twenty-two of our force either dead or wounded. Among the dead from our people were Agwanìwon, Mònz and his wife, Wàbìsì, and Önenha’ the Ouendat, while E’s was wounded. Our family never seemed to die peacefully; ours was the death of a warrior always.

  We left our wounded with the dead, one group to watch over the other. There was no time to mourn just yet. Mitigomij convinced the wives of Wàbek and Makwa to stay and aid the wounded. The twins thanked their uncle as they climbed into their canoe. Once we were in our boats, we raced to where we saw Zhashagi near a bend on the northern part of the river.

  As we approached, he said, “Our presence is now known. If we decide to continue, we’ll run into a force that’s surely waiting for us. There will be many losses and victory isn’t assured. We’re down close to thirty warriors slain and wounded already and haven’t yet met the power of their main group of defenders. What shall we do?”