by Sue Harrison
“Tomorrow we will finish it,” she finally said to Snow Hawk.
The dog was curled near the hole, tail over nose, back against the wind. Aqamdax had food enough to last until she caught more fish. Three hares were buried in the snow at the floor of her entrance tunnel, and she still had some dried salmon, a little caribou meat, blackfish that she had caught in a net suspended between two holes in the lake ice. Snow Hawk still hunted for her own meat, and sometimes, like Biter, brought back part of a carcass—ptarmigan or hare—for Aqamdax.
Still, Aqamdax was often hungry, but who was not hungry in winter? She did not let herself think of the full caches at the Cousin River Village, or of the seal meat and oil her own people would have put away. Instead, as she walked back to her lodge, she thought of the grayling or pike she might catch tomorrow in her trap.
The sky, heavy with clouds, was darkening toward night, and the wind gripped Aqamdax like hands, pushed her as she walked, drew tears from the corners of her eyes. She wiped them from her face, then stopped short, reached down to grip the ruff of fur at Snow Hawk’s neck. She crouched beside the dog, felt the animal tremble. Through the brush, she could see her lodge, its peak dark against the snow. Smoke spiraled from the top, more than should come from a fire banked before she went to the lake.
Night Man? she wondered. She shrugged her pack from her shoulders, pulled out her spear and crept closer. With her belly growing, she was more clumsy and did not throw the spear well. What chance did she have?
She crooned a song under her breath to calm herself and tried to think. Perhaps she should wait until night, get some of the meat she had hidden in the entrance tunnel and walk to the Near River Village. Eight, ten days might take her there. Perhaps some man would accept her as his wife, especially since she had Snow Hawk.
Yes, she would do that, but she would not wait for night. She could check the snare traps she had set in that direction. Surely she would have caught something. She had set so many….
“We will go now,” she said, whispering the words to Snow Hawk, but Snow Hawk suddenly jumped away and began to bark in quick joyous yips like a pup. Aqamdax stood, and when she saw the one who came from the tent, she could not move, could not speak. She waited as he ran to her, Snow Hawk jumping at his side.
“You are not dead,” were her first words to him, and Chakliux, his laughter broken by tears, held her close and answered, “Nor are you.”
“How did you find me?”
“Ligige’ said she told you to go to the Grandfather Lake. I was afraid that your son would call you and you would go…”
He pushed back her hood and buried his face in the softness of her hair.
“But then you found my camp.”
“I saw that your fire was banked and the coals were still alive. I saw that you had cached your meat, so I knew that you had decided to live.”
He put his arm around her and walked her to the lodge. She knelt and crawled inside, waited as Chakliux followed her. He squatted beside the hearth and added more wood to the flames.
“You were right,” Aqamdax said. “My son does call me.” He looked at her with fear in his eyes, and she moved into the light of the fire, clasped his hands and set them over her belly. “Each night he calls,” she told him, “but not from the lake.”
She smiled as his eyes grew wide, as his laughter filled the walls of her lodge. Then he wrapped her into his arms and claimed her as wife with his tears.
Epilogue
HE WAS STILL ONLY a boy, his arms and legs thin with much growing yet to do. But the old woman could see that he had changed. Though he was boy outside, inside he was more nearly a man. The People had celebrated their return to the winter village with a feast. The caribou hunt had been good, and the old and very young who had been left behind were content now with bellies full of caribou meat.
For the first time in many years, she sat with the other women in the storytelling lodge, her mind open for the storyteller’s words. The boy sat down in the Dzuuggi’s place and began to speak. His words carried full and strong. The old woman listened and felt the stories fill her anew with understanding.
Then the boy did something no Dzuuggi had been able to do for years, the skill lost in the years before he was born. He lifted his voice and brought it from the smokehole of the lodge, then from the doorflap and from the hearthfire, so it seemed as though each person was telling his own story in his own words.
And when he spoke about Chakliux, the boy took off his boots. The old woman heaved herself to her knees and lifted her head until she could see past those who sat in front of her.
“’Ih!” she said in amazement.
The toes were webbed like otter toes; the foot was bent and ready to swim.
Author’s Notes
Cry of the Wind is a study of war and war’s most natural and tragic aftermath: revenge. Like its prequel, Song of the River, it weaves a story around the inhabitants of the Near River and Cousin River villages and is set in ancient Alaska.
Many of the characters and plot elements are based on Native mythologies, two of which perhaps need further explanation.
In traditional Native literature—which is, of course, oral literature—heroes and villains abound. Often the villains are very evil indeed and are used as foils for the heroes of the stories. Sometimes, especially for those of us who have grown up within the nebulous gray world of situational ethics, this stark dichotomy is difficult to understand.
Quite obviously, I have followed Native literary traditions in creating my villainess K’os and the villain Anaay. In an effort to make their behavior believable to modern readers, I have given them motivating factors and mind-sets that provide a psychological basis for their actions, but I would ask my readers to remember that they represent a long-standing tradition in North American Native literature: the classic, unredeemable antihero.
The second mythological tradition is that of the nuhu’anh, known by many names, including windigo, witigo, outside man, and woodsman. Most groups of northern Native peoples tell legends about the windigo or nuhu’anh. In my studies, I have noticed that in areas with an extremely cold climate and limited winter food resources the legends take on more mystical and terrifying proportions than among those peoples who experience less winter starvation. The Aleut and some of the Athabascan peoples generally consider the nuhu’anh a nuisance more than a threat—someone whose behavior has mandated exclusion from his or her village. The nuhu’anh may kill to steal a wife or food but is seldom if ever cannibalistic, like the windigo/witigo of the Ojibwa or Cree.
Scientists have only recently begun to believe there is a physiological basis for windigo mythology. Research points toward the possibility that people who face extreme fat deprivation under bitter weather conditions may suffer delusions that lead them to believe other humans are food resources—animals that may be legitimately butchered. It is interesting to note that though Native stories offer many different ways to kill a windigo, one often cited is to pour hot fat down the windigo’s throat.
I have had a number of requests from readers asking that I explain the concept of the “handful,” which I use in the Storyteller Trilogy to denote counting. According to what I have been able to find through my research, most Native peoples of North America based their counting systems on five (rather than ten, as we do), thus the concept of the handful—five fingers.
For those who, like me, are mathematically disadvantaged, I offer this explanation in the hope that it will help. In a base five counting system, the sequence of numbers one to ten would be as follows: one, two, three, four, five, five plus one, five plus two, five plus three, five plus four, two fives. Eleven would be two fives plus one…and so on.
The reader may notice that in this trilogy, and in my previous trilogy (Mother Earth, Father Sky; My Sister the Moon; and Brother Wind), the First Men count by tens. The Unangan or Aleut people upon whom the First Men are patterned have (and this is very unusual for Native Americans) a bas
e ten number system. Thus, in my novels I include two number systems, one used by the First Men and designated by “tens” and the other used by the Walrus Hunters and the River People and denoted by the term “handful.”
One last explanation: some of my readers may wonder why the old woman Ligige’ addresses the wolverine she inadvertently caught in her snare trap as a parka hood ruff (see chapter 48). Among the various Athabascan peoples, and in numerous other Native cultures, women traditionally do not say the names of animals considered to have unusual or sacred powers. Instead, they will use a euphemism. Thus, a woman talking about a black bear will say, “The black one,” “The black place,” “That humpback.” This usage is intended to show the bear respect and to give spiritual protection to the speaker. In Cry of the Wind, Ligige’ is following this practice when she addresses the wolverine as a parka hood ruff.
Thank you for joining me on another journey to ancient Alaska! I hope you will check out my website for information about upcoming books—www.sueharrison.com
Sue Harrison
Pickford, Michigan
February 1998
Character List
PEOPLE OF THE COUSIN RIVER VILLAGE
Elders (Men):
Take More
Elders (Women):
Day Woman (mother of Chakliux and Sok)
Hollow Cup
Ligige’ (aunt of Chakliux and Sok)
Long Eyes (mother of Night Man and Star)
Twisted Stalk (aunt of Dii)
Yellow Bird
Hunters:
Chakliux (adopted son of K’os; biological son of Day Woman and Gull Wing; brother to Sok)
First Eagle (Near River husband of Awl)
Man Laughing
Night Man (son of Cloud Finder and Long Eyes; brother of Star)
Sky Watcher (husband of Bird Caller)
Sok (son of Day Woman and Gull Wing; brother of Chakliux)
Wives and Young Women:
Aqamdax (half-sister of Ghaden; stepsister of Yaa)
Awl (wife of First Eagle)
Bird Caller (wife of Sky Watcher) Dii (niece of Twisted Stalk)
Green Bird (sister of Squirrel and Black Stick)
Gguzaakk (deceased, wife of Chakliux)
Little Mouse
Owl Catcher
Red Leaf (wife of Sok; mother of Cries-loud and Sok’s infant daughter)
Snow-in-her-hair (wife of Sok; mother of Carries Much)
Star (daughter of Cloud Finder and Long Eyes; sister of Night Man; wife of Chakliux)
Children:
Angax (infant son of Aqamdax and Night Man)
Black Stick (brother of Squirrel and Green Bird)
Carries Much (infant son of Sok and Snow-in-her-hair)
Cries-loud (son of Sok and Red Leaf)
Ghaden (brother of Aqamdax; stepbrother of Yaa; adopted son of Chakliux and Star; son of Cen, the trader)
Squirrel (brother of Black Stick and Green Bird)
Yaa (stepsister of Aqamdax and Ghaden; adopted daughter of Chakliux and Star)
Dogs:
Biter (male; Ghaden’s)
Ligige’’s dog (male)
Snow Hawk (female; Sok’s)
PEOPLE OF THE NEAR RIVER VILLAGE
Elders (Men):
Anaay (also called Fox Barking; stepfather of Chakliux and Sok; husband of Dii and Gull Beak; owner of K’os)
Blue-head Duck (deceased; former chief elder)
Giving Meat
Summer Face (deceased; father of Yaa)
Sun Caller (father of Least Weasel) Tsaani (deceased; grandfather of Chakliux and Sok; brother of Ligige’)
Wolf-and-Raven (deceased; former shaman; cousin of Ligige’; husband of Blue Flower)
Elders (Women):
Blue Flower (Wolf-and-Raven’s widow)
Gull Beak (wife of Anaay)
Lazy Snow
No Teeth
Three Baskets
Vole (widow of Blue-head Duck)
Hunters:
Black Mouth (owner of K’os; husband of Two Fist)
First Eagle (husband of Awl)
Gull Wing (deceased; father of Sok and Chakliux, brother to Anaay)
Least Weasel (son of Sun Caller)
Many Words (husband of Owl Catcher)
Muskrat Singer
River Ice Dancer (son of Wolf Head)
Third Tree
Wolf Head (father of River Ice Dancer)
Wives and Young Women:
Awl (Cousin River captive; wife of First Eagle)
Cut Ear (Cousin River captive)
Daes (deceased; mother of Ghaden and Aqamdax; originally from the First Men Village)
Dii (Cousin River captive; wife of Anaay)
Green Bird (Cousin River captive) Happy Mouth (deceased; mother of Yaa)
K’os (Cousin River captive; adoptive mother of Chakliux; slave of Black Mouth and later of Anaay)
Light Hair Owl Catcher (Cousin River captive; wife of Many Words)
Red Leggings
Stay Small (Cousin River captive)
Talks-all-night
Two Fist (wife of Black Mouth) Willow Leaf (Cousin River captive)
Children:
Best Fist (girl)
Blue Necklace (girl) Daughter of Red Leggings
PEOPLE OF THE FOUR RIVERS VILLAGE
Elders (Men):
Brown Foot
Tree Climber (husband of Sand Fly)
Elders (Women):
Near Mouse
Sand Fly (wife of Tree Climber)
Hunters:
Brown Eye
Cen (a trader; husband of Gheli)
Eagle Catcher
Fat Mink
First Spear (chief hunter)
Gives-dogs
Jumps-too-far
Willow Stick
Wives and Young Women:
Fern
Gheli (also known as Red Leaf; wife of Cen)
K’os (adoptive mother of Chakliux)
White Lake
Children:
Daes (Gheli’s infant daughter)
Dogs:
Tracker (male; Cen’s)
Glossary of Native American Words
AA, AAA (Aleut Athabascan) Interjection used to express surprise: “Oh!” (The double or triple a carries a long a sound.)
ANAAY (Ahtna Athabascan) That which moves, caribou or caribou herd. (The Athabascan vowel a is pronounced like the u in the English word but. The n is similar to the English n, and the aa takes on an aw sound. The y is like the y in the English word you. The accent falls on the naay.)
ANGAX (Aleut) Power. Anga is the root used in the Aleut word for “elder brother.” (The a’s are short; because it falls before the letter n, the first a takes on more of a short e sound. The Aleut n is quite nasal; the g is a voiced velar fricative, quite guttural; and the final x is a voiceless velar fricative.)
AQAMDAX (Aleut) Cloudberry, Rubus chamaemorus. (See Pharmacognosia.) (The a’s are short. The Aleut q is like a harsh English k, the m like an English m and d much like the English th. The Aleut x is a voiceless velar fricative.)
BABICHE (English—probably anglicized from the Cree word assababish, a diminutive of assabab, “thread”) Lacing made from rawhide.
CEN (Ahtna Athabascan) Tundra. (The c sounds like an English k. The e carries a short sound like the e in the English word set. The Ahtna n sounds like the English n.)
CET’AENI (Ahtna Athabascan) Creatures of ancient Ahtna legend. They are tailed and live in trees and caves. (The c sounds like an English k. The e carries a short sound like the e in the English word set. The t’ is much like an English t followed by a glottal release. The diphthong ae is pronounced like the a in the English word cat. The n is much like the English n, and the final i has a short i sound as in the English word sit. The t’aen is accented.)
CHAKLIUX (Ahtna Athabascan, as recorded by Pinart in 1872) Sea otter. (The word is pronounced as it would be in English, with the final x a voiceless velar fricat
ive.)
CHIGDAX (Aleut) A waterproof, watertight parka made of sea lion or bear intestines, esophagus of seal or sea lion, or the tongue skin of a whale. The hood had a drawstring, and the sleeves were tied at the wrists for sea travel. These knee-length garments were often decorated with feathers and bits of colored esophagus. (The Aleut ch is much like the English ch, the g like a guttural English g, and the d carries almost a th sound. The vowels are short. The x should be properly written as x, and is a voiceless uvular fricative.)
CILT’OGHO (Ahtna Athabascan) A container hollowed out of birch and used to carry water. (The c sounds like an English k. The i has a short i sound as in the English word sit. The l is properly written Ł and has no corresponding sound in English. The tip of the tongue is held on the palate just behind the front teeth and breath released so as to push air off both sides of the tongue. The t’ is much like an English t followed by a glottal release. The Ahtna o is like the o in the English word for. The Ahtna gh has no English equivalent. It closely resembles the French r. The t’ogh carries the accent.)
DAES (Ahtna Athabascan) Shallow, a shallow portion of a lake or stream. (The d is pronounced with the tongue tip touching the backs of the top front teeth. It carries almost a t sound. The diphthong ae has an a sound similar to that in the English word hat. The final s has almost an sh sound.)
DII (Ahtna Athabascan) One alone, on one’s own. (The d is pronounced with the tongue tip touching the backs of the top front teeth. It carries almost a t sound. The double i carries a long e sound as in the English word free.)
DILK’AHOO (Koyukon Athabascan) Raven. (The d is pronounced with the tongue tip touching the backs of the top front teeth. It carries almost a t sound. The i has a short i sound as in the English word sir. The l is pronounced like the l’s in the English word call. The k’ has no English equivalent. It is similar to the Aleut x and is pronounced in the back of the throat with a very harsh, guttural sound. The apostrophe denotes a glottal stop. The Athabascan vowel a is pronounced like the u in the English word but. The h is similar to the h in the English word help, and the oo takes on the long o sound as in the English word rove.)
