by Franks Busch
“Come forward Flying Rabbit Boy of the Bear clan!” announced the senior warrior of the Dog Soldiers.
“You are brave to come first,” said Laughing Cloud Boy. “For that, I will give you my most prized possession.”
The young warrior reached down to his assortment of childhood items and picked up a short bow made of ash. The assembled crowd murmured in approval at this gift, fitting for a youth like Flying Rabbit Boy.
“With this bow, I killed the moose that proved me capable of walking man’s road. May it serve the same purpose for you when the time is right.”
The crowd cheered at this example of continuity and the promise of a strong future for the people of Nisichawayasihk. The other children, having seen Flying Rabbit Boy’s good luck, ran forward to claim an item from the young warrior. When all of Laughing Cloud Boy’s childhood possessions were gone, the senior warrior continued the ceremony.
“Who sponsors this young warrior to join the ranks of the Dog Soldier Society?”
“I, Blue Elk Man of the Marten clan, warrior of the Dog Soldier Society, present this warrior.”
“Blue Elk Man, will you hold him to the oath of our sworn brotherhood?”
“I will,” answered Blue Elk Man solemnly.
“We would hear him take the oath,” said the senior warrior.
“I hereby pledge,” began Laughing Cloud Boy, “to defend the weak, to feed the hungry, and to hold my ground no matter what the cost. I will give my life so others may live and I will never take a life, even in battle. This I swear in Creator’s light, and before all the Nehiyawak gathered here today, and before you my brothers of the Dog Soldier Society, until Kitchi Manitou calls me home.”
The warriors of the village and visitors from the Trader’s caravan whooped and the women ululated in acknowledgement of the vow.
“We have all heard the pledge,” said the senior warrior, “and have accepted the promise of this young man, that he will serve the Nehiyawak until his dying day. He was called Laughing Cloud Boy of the Eagle clan, but he will be called this no longer. From this day forward he has earned the name Sharp Stone Man of the Eagle clan, warrior of the Dog Soldier Society!” The men whooped and cheered and sounded the drum loudly. His face beaming with pride, the newly minted warrior’s father came forward and put a new deer hide shirt over his son’s head. Blue Elk Man came forward and tied a long rope with a wooden stake around the warrior’s waist, the symbol of the Dog Soldier Society.
“Receive the rope of the Dog Soldiers,” continued the senior warrior. “Let all of our enemies know that when a Dog Soldier plants his stake into the earth, he will hold his ground even if it costs him his life.”
The men who held the drum took up a beat and sang an honour song as the people of Nisichawayasihk lined up to pay tribute to the new warrior with a hug or handshake. Little Grey Bear Boy and his cousin Flying Rabbit Boy paid close attention to the proceedings, imagining the day when they would be called to walk man’s road. They fell in line with the crowd to shake hands with the newly appointed Dog Soldier.
“You two will make fine warriors one day,” said a voice from behind them.
Little Grey Bear Boy turned to see a man with a hooked nose like the desert people far to the south and a scar on the left side of his mouth. He seemed young but had small crow’s feet wrinkles behind his eyes, so of his age Little Grey Bear Boy could not be sure. Painted Turtle Man had once explained that in the deserts far to the south the sun is much hotter and it is always summer, never winter. Perhaps the climate of this man’s homeland accounted for his looks.
Little Grey Bear Boy had received more than his fair share of attention, but there was something strange about the way the young man looked at him. Maybe he had never seen a Grey Eye before.
“You really think so?” asked Flying Rabbit Boy.
“Tapwe,” said the strange man. “If you have the right arrows, you will be killing your own moose, elk, or even buffalo. I just so happen to have some fine arrows that would go well with your new bow.”
“My moosum says a hunter should make his own arrows,” explained Little Grey Bear Boy, “so that if he should miss, he can blame no one but himself.”
“Your moosum sounds like a wise man. I do have other things that may interest you. I was a young boy myself once and I know how hard it can be to prove yourself. If you come and see my wares I might find a small gift for you.”
Little Grey Bear Boy was uneasy. Painted Turtle Man had taught him that if something seemed too good to be true, it probably was. On the other hand, he did not want to seem rude to one of the Trader’s men.
“That is very kind of you,” said Little Grey Bear Boy, “but we must help our mothers with the feast. Perhaps we can come and see you later. I am sure our fathers will want to trade.”
Flying Rabbit Boy shot his cousin a glare but was subdued by the bright flash of grey that shot back.
The boys reached the front of the line. They shook hands with the new warrior, and Flying Rabbit Boy thanked him for the bow. The boys found their mothers and set to work. Until they earned their warrior names, they served the elders at a feast. When everyone was fed, the fire was built up. The drum sounded and the people began to sing and dance. The celebrations continued into the night, with the Trader’s caravan performing some new dances. The hurt brought by the loss of Soaring Star Woman was starting to heal.
The Trader and his caravan remained in Nisichawayasihk for three more days, conducting business with the willing. Before they left, Little Grey Bear Boy took his father out to find the stranger with the scar on his mouth, but no one seemed to know the man, the Trader least of all.
20
nīstanaw
Little Grey Bear Boy returned to his daily chores and work, collecting fire wood and setting rabbit snares. Flying Rabbit Boy was anxious to learn to hunt with his new bow, but it was made of ash and required a lot of strength to draw—strength the boy didn’t yet have. Brown Shield Man told his son to keep trying, explaining that in trying he would gain the muscles needed to use it properly. Little Grey Bear Boy was always happy to go out into the forest with his cousin. He often stopped to collect a plant or herb that Painted Turtle Man had taught him was good for medicine. Little Grey Bear Boy’s meandering gave Flying Rabbit Boy plenty of time to practice with the bow.
Life had improved greatly for the people of Nisichawayasihk since the winter of Little Grey Bear Boy’s birth. The boy himself did not believe he had anything to do with the good fortune of the village, but this did not stop the Nehiyawak from feeling they benefitted from the presence of the Grey-Eyed boy. They gave him thanks or gifts for what they perceived as his influence. The boy would pass the gifts on to those in need and try to remember what Painted Turtle Man had taught him: thanks is due to Kitchi Manitou for all things and to Mother Earth for her bounty. In truth, Little Grey Bear Boy was happiest away from the village, out in the forest, where he would speak to the plants, rocks, and animals, even if they rarely spoke to him.
“Look, I’ve got it!” said Flying Rabbit Boy, his drawstring arm shaking hard from side to side as he pulled.
“You’ve barely pulled it halfway back,” observed Little Grey Bear Boy with a smile. The two continued on with their hunt, managing to track down a rabbit, but Flying Rabbit Boy’s clumsiness with the bow gave the rabbit ample time to get away.
It was midsummer and food was plentiful, so the boys were able to laugh at their poor results. When Grandfather Sun was high in the sky, they stopped by a small lake to cool off with a swim. They laughed and played and splashed in the water, children still.
As the day continued into late afternoon, the boys made their way home. They were free to roam the village and surrounding forest when the sun was up, but they had to return home before dark. The boys arrived at the Bear lodge to find their mothers and grandmother cooking the evening meal. White Willow Wo
man wore the turquoise necklace her children had acquired from the Trader’s caravan. Painted Turtle Man was there helping Yellow Hawk Girl work on a corn husk doll.
The grey-haired matriarch of the Bear clan was enjoying this quiet time with her family after the excitement of the Trader’s visit, but could not push away some troubling news. The Trader had reported that Red-Eye warriors had attacked some villages to the west, killing the men, children, and elders and taking the young women as prisoners. Walking Moon Woman prayed to Kitchi Manitou for protection and for the young women, who had been captured for some unknown purpose. She raised the point with the Circle of Clan Mothers that the village was vulnerable without the presence of their former leader, but the Trader had reassured the matriarchs that these troubles were very far away—near the Holy Mountains.
When the evening meal was ready, the Bear clan gathered together in a circle. Walking Moon Woman offered the prayers.
“Oh, Kitchi Manitou,” she prayed. “Thank you for your blessings and your bounty. Thank you for keeping us together as a family. Give us the guidance to remain united with one another. Please share your blessings and guidance with families less fortunate. You have been very generous to the Bear clan and we give you thanks and praise. All my relations, ekosani.”
“All my relations!” repeated the family.
The Bears began to enjoy their meal of fresh moose meat, wild rice, and berries. The meat had been cut into small pieces and spiced with cooking herbs that Singing Doe had acquired from the caravan.
“Moosum, is there going to be a story tonight?” Yellow Hawk Girl asked.
“Not tonight, my girl,” smiled Painted Turtle Man. “The Nehiyawak have had plenty of late nights these last few days. I want to give the families some time together to give thanks for the blessings we have received. Tomorrow we will begin preparations for a sweat lodge, for the Nehiyawak to cleanse themselves of want and desire so life can return to normal. We will have to work hard to make the necessary preparations for the coming winter. As always, the people of Nisichawayasihk must store enough dried meat and fish to last the hard-faced moons of Old Man Winter.”
“Tapwe,” said Walking Moon Woman. “Especially the Turtle clan. They have so many small children to feed right now and too few hunters.”
“We will remember them in our prayers,” agreed Painted Turtle Man. “We will remember them also when we are able to share. They have always been kind to our clan.”
“Once I get my new bow working,” said Flying Rabbit Boy, “I’ll go and shoot an elk and give it to the Turtle clan. Then maybe one of the Turtle girls will choose me for a husband.”
“Awas,” exclaimed Singing Doe. “I am the only woman you have to impress!”
“I thought that was my job,” laughed Brown Shield Man. The whole family laughed too.
“When did you prove yourself a warrior, father?” Little Grey Bear Boy asked.
Blue Elk Man looked up from his meal and contemplated the question. “A warrior must prove himself every day of his life,” he answered.
“Can you tell us about the first time?”
“Yes, I remember the day. It was an elk. I went out hunting with my father. We had been tracking the elk for two days and we came upon a small creek. The tracks led into the water and we could not tell on which side of the bank the elk had come out. My father made me cross the creek to search for tracks on the other side. We walked along the creek together and it began to widen and deepen. We were beginning to worry we had followed the creek in the wrong direction but then I found fresh tracks on my side and signalled my father.”
Blue Elk Man paused to take a sip of water.
“He indicated for me to have a look around while he back-tracked to find a better place to cross. I followed the tracks and came upon the elk suddenly. It was grazing in a small patch of grass and wildflowers. I was clumsy and it noticed me immediately. I froze and the elk froze and stared at me, waiting for me to do something. My father was not close enough and I knew any sudden movement would cause the elk to flee. So very quietly and carefully I drew an arrow, moving slowly, with my heart pounding in my chest. I raised my bow, trying to control my breath. I shot the elk through the heart. It didn’t happen the way I expected. I remember it kept looking at me and then just…fell over. I was still frozen when my father came upon me and clapped me on the back. We went to retrieve the arrow together and found the elk lying in a patch of blue flowers. We began to make our prayers for our brother elk. Then we prepared the carcass for the long journey back to the village.
“We returned to the village and shared the meat with the Nehiyawak. I was inducted into the Dog Soldier Society by my uncle. It happened much the same way as you saw the young warrior the other day. They called me ‘Blue Elk Man’ because of the place where the elk had lain.”
“Tapwe?” said Little Grey Bear Boy. “That is a very good story.”
“Actually,” said Blue Elk Man, “it saddens my heart to think of that day. I have since taken the lives of many of our brother animals, but I always remember that first time. When I met the gaze of the elk, I always wondered if there would have been something else if I had not killed it. Perhaps it would have spoken to me and we would have become friends. I was thinking of my family when I made the kill, but I still felt guilty afterwards. My father helped to guide me through those feelings and reminded me that we must live in harmony with all of creation.”
“Tapwe, well said,” remarked Painted Turtle Man. “A man does not kill so he can brag to his fellow man. When one of our animal brothers presents itself to a hunter it is sacrificing itself for the good of the Nehiyawak. We must always honour our brother animals. We need them for food and furs. That is why we make every effort to see that the entire animal finds a purpose and that nothing is ever wasted. That would dishonour the sacrifice made by our brother animals.”
“I feel sorry for the elk,” said Yellow Hawk Girl. “Maybe he just wanted to play with you.”
“You can’t play with an elk,” said Flying Rabbit Boy, rolling his eyes. “Their antlers are too big.”
“Yes I can,” argued Yellow Hawk Girl. “You’ll see when I’m bigger.”
“Don’t argue with your cousin,” Singing Doe said to her son.
“I remember when you and your father came home that day,” White Willow Woman said, smiling. “That was the day I started to admire you.”
Blue Elk Man blushed and looked down at his food.
“In any event,” continued Painted Turtle Man, hoping to save Blue Elk Man from further embarrassment, “we are honoured to have you in the Bear clan.”
“Hiy, hiy,” agreed Walking Moon Woman.
“What about you, father?” asked Flying Rabbit Boy.
“Well,” said Brown Shield Man, “I am not sure my story is quite as exciting as your uncle’s.”
“Please?” pleaded Yellow Hawk Girl, always hungry for a story.
“There isn’t much to tell,” Brown Shield Man began. “When I was about fifteen summers, the warriors were being sent south for the buffalo hunt. I wasn’t especially fast and my tracking skills were not so good. I was always heavier than the other boys. I was not allowed to hunt yet, since I had not proven myself. My uncle said I could come along and help carry his things. I was so grateful to him for not leaving me behind with the women and children.”
Brown Shield Man paused, a little choked up by the memory of his late uncle.
“Our hunting party was soon joined by hunters from other villages. There were many families to feed and the buffalo had come late that year. The warrior societies held a council and decided we would attempt to run a herd into a buffalo pound in a ravine. I was allowed to help build the buffalo pound, and because I was heavy, they said I could wave one of the hides to scare the herd into the pound.”
“That can be a very dangerous job,” said Painted Turtle Man.
“Everything was going very well,” recalled Brown Shield Man. “But then the herd turned on us. The thundering hooves were coming towards me and some of the younger warriors. The earth shook beneath our feet. I raised my hide, waving it hard and yelling, but still the herd thundered towards us. I knew I would not be fast enough to get away from them and my only chance was to keep waving. The others were already getting set to run for it. I took a step toward the herd, still waving my hide high and yelling as loud as I could. My throat burned. Just as I was about to be trampled, the herd turned. We sealed the pound and trapped the herd.
“Some of the senior warriors saw what I had done and came over to tease me. They said I looked like I had a big brown shield. And that is how I got my name.”
The adults smiled and Brown Shield Man laughed, but Flying Rabbit Boy looked concerned. “I think that was very brave, father,” he said.
“Motch, I don’t know,” shrugged Brown Shield Man.
“Tapwe, you probably saved the lives of some of those young warriors,” said Blue Elk Man. “And you stood your ground. You should have been invited into the Dog Soldier Society.”
Brown Shield Man nodded at the honour bestowed on him by the comment and said, “Well, my uncle sponsored me into the White Wolf Warrior Society.”
“You are a hero, uncle!” said Yellow Hawk Girl excitedly.
“Motch…” blushed Brown Shield Man.
“You will always be a hero in my eyes,” said Singing Doe, arching one eyebrow. Brown Shield Man smiled and laughed politely.
“What can I do to prove myself?” asked Flying Rabbit Boy.
“Boys are always in such a hurry to become men,” said Walking Moon Woman.
“Tapwe,” said Painted Turtle Man. “A man’s time always comes too soon. When you have the duties and responsibilities of a man, you will wish you could be a carefree boy again.”
“Is that how you felt?” asked Little Grey Bear Boy.
