Snow Eagle

by Shirley A. Roe

  Snow Eagle tried to slow his breathing. He tightened his grip on his knife now deeply imbedded in the crack in the rock. Earlier in the afternoon he had increased his speed, wanting to make the summit before dark. He now chastised himself for his foolishness. He had lost his footing and started to slide down the rock face. Terrified, but quick thinking, he struck out with his blade and the knife lodged in a crevice in the rock stopping his descent. Now he was precariously perched on the side of the cliff with chances of continuing looking very slim. Eyes scanning the face, he tried to study the hand and foot holds but the light was gone and even in the bright light of the full moon, his visibility was limited. His left foot was secure on a ten- inch ledge; his right foot was about a foot higher and wedged in a crevice barely wide enough for the toe of his moccasin. His muscles were beginning to ache after the treacherous climb. He had to stay calm. His chest expanded in an effort to take a few slow deep breaths. If he lost his footing now, he would plunge over two hundred feet to the base of the wall and certain death. He would have to stay here until daylight, when he could find a safe route to the top. Thankfully the slope at this particular section was allowing him to lean into the cliff but how long would his aching hands and feet be able to hold on. The evening air was growing cold; his legs began to tremble involuntarily. A sudden movement above his head startled him. A large shadow approached from behind and landed about ten feet above him. He squinted in the dim light as small pebbles fell onto his shoulders and the top of his head. The loud, piercing screech of the eagle filled the air, echoing through the night. The huge bird spread its wings to a span longer than Snow Eagle himself, its large, golden eyes stared down at his upturned face. Again it screeched, never moving its eyes from his. “Brother Eagle, welcome to my perch. You are much better equipped to be here than I.” Snow Eagle forgot his problems as he was filled with the spirit of the majestic bird. He could not help but admire this beautiful, powerful creature. The eagle flew lower and to the left, landing on a large ledge, screeching loudly. The screech drew Snow Eagle's attention in that direction. Suddenly, he realized that he might be able to reach that ledge with just a few movements. How had he missed it? The moonlight reflected on the white feathers of the eagle's head, its eyes glowed like golden fire. The sound of the eagle's wings beat in rhythm with his heart. He waited as Brother Eagle returned to his original perch. The man inhaled deeply, taking strength from his totem animal. Snow Eagle reached, muscles straining, his body stretching to its utmost length. Fingers outstretched, knuckles lengthened, as he strained to maintain his balance. He reached the ledge and gripped tightly with his left hand. His right hand was forced to relinquish the safety of the knife; it would have to remain in its rocky grave. He pulled himself up, left foot reaching for a second foothold. Inch by inch he made his body move towards the ledge. Finally reaching it, his biceps cried out as he lifted his body onto the ledge. He found it to be more than two feet wide. Just a few feet above, a small cave was a welcome sight. The opening was only about four feet deep and three feet high but big enough for him to climb into and take a much needed break. As he crawled into his small refuge, the eagle flew past, turning its head towards him in farewell. “Thank you Brother Eagle.” Snow Eagle thanked Kah-shu-gon-yah for taking the form of Brother Eagle to help him, realizing that without divine intervention, he may not have been able to reach his people in time, if at all. He leaned back against the hard rock and every muscle in his body cried out in pain. Taking a small piece of dried fish from the pack tied to his waist, he relaxed and chewed slowly still not believing how close he had come to falling to his death. He stretched and flexed his muscles one at a time. Little Fawn filled his thoughts. “I am coming back to you. Good night my love,” he whispered into the night air. With that he fell into an exhausted sleep.

  Miles away, Little Fawn stopped suddenly, looking around the moon lit ice field. The entire area was filled with a bright white light; moonlight reflecting on the white surface of the ice and the backs of the slow moving travelers. A quiet whisper filled her ears in the cool night air. Coming back to you. Good night my love. She looked for the source, but no one was there. A smile started at the corner of her lips. He is alive, thank you Great Spirit. She walked with renewed energy; a great load had been lifted from her heart.

  The people were growing weary by the middle of the second day. The heat from the sun warmed their spirits and kept them moving across the blinding white ice. Gray Wolf and his warriors had returned, reporting that White Fox could not be found. Gray Wolf was seething with hatred. He would kill White Fox when he found him.

  Sunflower was relieved but worried. Her son had his chance to live, would he be smart enough to take it or would revenge drive him back? The travelers continued each lost within their own thoughts. There would be no camp until they reached the rock outcropping, hopefully before nightfall. Unbeknownst to them, within a full day's walk, Charging Elk and his band were about to begin their trek across the ice field. But now instead of seven warriors, there were eight.

  Snow Eagle managed to reach the summit of the rock wall as the sun appeared like a brilliant orange ball above the mountain peaks. He stood surveying the glory of the landscape; snow capped mountains tinted pale orange from the rising sun and draped in the deep green of the lush forests. A wide river meandered through the valley far below. He could not see the ice field from this point but he knew that they would soon be approaching the other side. After a quick thanks to Great Spirit and Brother Eagle for bringing him safely to the summit, Snow Eagle set out at a brisk pace. He would have to run most of the way across the level summit to reach the cliff that led down to his tribe's destination before nightfall. He prayed that the Caribou Hunters would not reach them first.

  Charging Elk and his men stopped to rest. Although they were young and strong, the Caribou Hunters were not accustomed to crossing the ice fields. Unlike the Tlingits, who traveled yearly to the sea, they settled further inland where mountain caves and thick caribou hides provided a safe refuge during the cold hard winters. They had come on this journey unprepared. A small fire was lit from wood that they had carried with them. Icy, leather clad feet were placed near the fire in an effort to bring some circulation and warmth to their near frozen extremities. In their haste and young exuberance, they had failed to properly prepare and now they were paying the price of their folly. The stop would delay their crossing but was necessary if they hoped to continue. Pieces of their caribou coats were torn and tied to the bottom of their leather moccasins.

  Charging Elk stared across the fire at the newcomer. He didn't trust this man. There was a look of evil in his eyes. “So you say your people plan to camp once they reach the other side of this frozen wasteland. Are you sure you want to help us rescue Songbird? You would be going against your own people.” The other man stared back with hatred in his eyes.

  “My people believed the terrible lies and want me dead. I told you how I escaped near death after trying to save your woman and believe me; I want nothing more than to get my revenge on Gray Wolf. Remember, he is to be mine and mine alone. You can take the girl and do whatever you want to the others, but Gray Wolf is mine.” White Fox glared at Charging Elk defiantly.

  “We want Songbird returned and this Gray Wolf and his warriors are the ones that took her. We will deal with him and his men but you will be satisfied when you see him tortured and killed.” Charging Elk sensed danger from this man. He was determined to assert his authority over the newcomer.

  “No, Gray Wolf is mine or I will not help you get the woman back. My mother is a powerful Elder of the tribe, she will be very valuable to us.”

  “We do not need your help or your mother's. We know where your people are and if we had not saved you from that pack of wolves, you would be dead. Do not forget who is in debt to whom here.” Charging Elk stood over White Fox. “Do not make me sorry I saved your life.” He was at least a foot taller than White Fox and much heavier.

  “Alright, alright
you do what you need to do. You are right I will get my satisfaction in seeing Gray Wolf dead.” White Fox, sensing the other man's displeasure, realized that he better play along for the time being. He needed Charging Elk more than they needed him. He leaned back on his blanket, thinking of how they had found him. After he was cut loose, he had run hard in the direction of their summer valley. Finding himself in a grove of trees he collapsed in exhaustion, unaware that a wolf pack was hunting in the area. One of the wolves approached him, growling, it lowered its head sniffing his collapsed body. Once the rest of the pack, led by a large gray arrived, White Fox knew that he was in trouble. The irony of being killed by a large gray wolf, totem animal of Gray Wolf had not escaped him, as the snarling wolves circled. That was when Charging Elk and his men arrived and frightened the wolves off, just in the nick of time. A smug grin crossed his lips as he remembered telling them that he had tried to save the Caribou woman from being dishonored, but the real attacker turned the story around and his people mistakenly believed that he, White Fox was the perpetrator. These dumb Caribou Hunters believed everything he said. They were almost as stupid as Dancing Bear. Luckily they didn't know that he was one of the warriors with Gray Wolf when the Caribou woman had been taken or they would not have been so helpful. They would be easy to trick into doing what he wanted, once they found the Tlingits. White Fox closed his eyes for a few minutes picturing his sweet revenge on Gray Wolf in his mind. His mother would be proud of him.

  Charging Elk watched him with interest, knowing that he must not let his guard down for a minute with this one. White Fox had asked for a weapon but they put him off, saying he would not need one until they were ready to raid. Trusting this man with a weapon was not something the Caribou Hunters were going to do. Charging Elk would let him foolishly think they trusted him and believed his pitiful story. A man like this would not do anything that wasn't to his advantage. The Tlingits probably had good reason to want him dead. He would be disposed of as soon as Charging Elk was finished with him. The huge man reached down and tightened the leather holding the fur to the bottom of his moccasins. The others were eating or resting, now much better equipped to cross the frozen ice. He nodded to his second in command, Walks with Fire who also watched White Fox with suspicion. The silent communication between them went unnoticed by the self absorbed White Fox.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The dark gray rocks were in sight. The fatigued people were recharged with energy at the sight of their destination. “The ice ends, at last,” one of the travelers shouted. Everyone picked up the pace, sore muscles searching for the last ounce of strength.

  “Wait, Buffalo Woman has fallen.” Everyone stopped, turning back to the collapsed, old woman on the ice. Prairie Flower, Buffalo Woman's daughter, knelt beside her mother. She began to wail. Little Fawn ran to Buffalo Woman's frail body. She took her head in her hands and rubbed the wrinkled, sagging cheeks. Buffalo Woman's eyes opened slowly but it was obvious that she was suffering. The old woman's hand went to her chest.

  “Kah-shu-gon-yah, has come for me. I will not complete my last ice field crossing.” Her voice was faint and weak, her breathing shallow.

  “Lift her onto the travois, we must get to the rocks quickly. Buffalo Woman, you will be fine, you just need to rest.” Prairie Flower was beside herself, Little Fawn took charge of the situation. Gray Wolf and Salmon Catcher lifted the near weightless body and placed it reverently on the fur piled travois. Pelts were piled on top of Buffalo Woman's body for warmth and although his lowly duties were over, Gray Wolf took the straps and began pushing the loaded sled. The dogs strained under the added weight. Prairie Flower, several years older than Little Fawn, walked beside her mother wringing her hands and praying. Tribal members came to whisper encouragement and support to the ancient elder. Little Fawn walked along side checking the old woman often. Everyone increased his or her pace toward the edge of the ice. To lose a life on the white field of ice was a bad omen. They must hurry.

  It was almost two hours later when the frail body of Buffalo Woman was placed on the rocky earth. Her wrinkled hand reached out to caress the earth. She looked into her daughter's eyes, “I am here. We have made it, I have crossed the ice for the last time.” A long intake of air, followed by a short gasp, ended the life of oldest member of the tribe. Prairie Flower and Little Fawn began to cry. They realized that the old woman had willed herself to reach the other side, ensuring that her people would not be cursed. Gray Wolf appeared at his mother's side. In her grief she needed Snow Eagle's strength to console her. Gray Wolf's strong young arm embraced his mother.

  As Shaman, it was Snow Eagle's duty to perform the death ceremonies. In his absence, Little Fawn would prepare the body and Black Rain would call Kah-shu-gon-yah, to receive the soul of Buffalo Woman. The body was wrapped in a woven mountain goat blanket and placed on a cedar mat. A somber mood surrounded the group, who had finally reached the other side and a much needed rest.

  Sunflower approached the old woman's body and kneeled reverently to stroke her withered brow. Her eyes searched for Black Rain. He is old and will leave us soon; all of the elders are frail. Soon it will be time for the younger ones to take over. I must have strength. I must do what is best for the tribe. She brushed some ice from the old woman's hair before retreating to sit with her father. Looking at the grief in his face, she whispered, “Once we reach the sea, a Potlach will be held to honor Buffalo Woman. We will miss her.” Sunflower took her father's wrinkled hand in hers, his fingers closed lightly on her hand, seeking comfort.

  Snow Eagle reached the end of the mountain trail where a steep descent would take him close to the edge of the ice field. His body ached and his lungs cried out for air from running. He must rest before he tried to climb down the mountainside. He lit a small fire and forced the food into his exhausted body. His knotted stomach rebelled and he knew that he must wait before eating more. Laying on the mossy ground, pulling air into his lungs, Snow Eagle prayed that the Caribou Hunters had not reached his people. He could not bear to think what carnage would greet him, if they had. His legs began to cramp. He stretched and rubbed the tight muscles. Soon, fear pushed him on, he lifted his pack and continued without a much needed rest.

  Death ceremonies continued into the night. The body was wrapped carefully and with respect by the women and was then placed upon a wooden frame, a fire was lit under the frame and the body burned. Someone pointed to the sky, dancing with magical green and pink lights. Waving patterns of light lit up the black sky and held the people in awe. “Buffalo Woman has reached the highest heaven, Kiwa-a in the Land of the Dead. It is a sign.” Red Hawk stared at the dancing lights in the sky. She would miss her dear old friend. How long would it be before they lost more of the Elders? Buffalo Woman had willed herself to live until her people were back on solid ground, wanting to prevent a bad omen. She had been successful but still something evil blew on the night wind, Red Hawk felt it deep in her mournful soul. It was not long before the group retired for the night, leaving Red Hawk alone by the fire. Silently she said goodbye to Buffalo Woman; tears ran down her cheeks. Black Rain lay on his blanket and painfully watched his wife's grief, knowing she needed to be alone, he did not approach her.

  Buffalo Woman's death made Little Fawn more anxious than ever to see Snow Eagle. After the travelers camped for two or three days they would begin their trek down to the sea. Hopefully her husband would join them soon. Gray Wolf was on watch and Frightened Deer slept near Little Fawn. The young woman seemed more relaxed around her son now, but Little Fawn still found it strange that she did not speak. Even when White Fox dragged her into the woods, she did not scream. Perhaps she could not make a sound. Was this the wife for her son? If Frightened Deer was with child, would the child be born unable to speak as well? Several questions ran through Little Fawn's mind as she watched her son's squaw sleeping soundly.

  The entire tribe mourned the death of Buffalo Woman. They spoke of how her spirit would travel through the thorny for
est to the Land of the Dead. She was a good woman and assured a place with the Great Spirit. Only those who were of bad character and whose lives had not been well served would go to the Raven's Home. Conversations were subdued and faces full of grief, as the people rested on the edge of the ice field. All were happy to be back on solid earth once more and anxious to be going to the milder climate of the seaside, but they had lost one of their own and she would be sorrowfully missed.

  The people gathered around the fire that night. The next morning they would prepare to start the downward trek to the sea. Snow Eagle had not returned. The night was black and moonless. No Aurora Borealis lit the evening sky on this night.

  Moving with stealth across the ice, Charging Elk and his band walked in silence. Once they approached rocks on the other side, they were about a mile north of where the Tlingit camp was located. “We must be totally silent. We will take them when they are camped for the night.” Charging Elk stared at White Fox, the look of hatred still lingered in his eyes. “So what is your plan, White Fox?”

  “I suggest we wait until they are all asleep. The woman you seek will be found with Red Hawk and Black Rain. I will find her and then point out Gray Wolf. He may be sitting guard, so we must be careful.” White Fox puffed out his chest with pride and vanity. The Caribou Hunters stared back at him with scorn.

  “Tagish do not kill men and women as they sleep. We will take them when they can fight back. We are not cowards.” One of the warriors stood defiantly, looking to Charging Elk for confirmation.