by Franks Busch
“Don’t worry. Your mother made herself heard.”
“She always does,” said Blue Elk Man, who was rewarded for his wit with a slap across the shoulder from his wife.
“Moosum,” said Little Grey Bear Boy. “I want you to continue to teach me. That man was so strict at the sundance, even to the young ones.”
“Rest, my boy. Do not worry yourself with such matters. Your family will take care of you as we always have.”
“And always will,” added Blue Elk Man.
“Tapwe,” said Little Grey Bear Boy, “you have never given me any reason to doubt that.”
“Hard times are ahead,” Painted Turtle Man said. “It is very important that whatever happens, no matter what is said, we stick together as a family. There are those who would seek to keep the Bear clan small and weak. We must do our duty and stay strong in the ways of the Grandmother Bear. Not for us, but for all the people of Nisichawayasihk.”
“Tapwe!” said the others in unison.
“You must recover your strength,” said Painted Turtle Man once the others had gone off to the Bear lodge for the night. “I doubt the Nehiyawak will give you much time to heal before they load you up with burdens.”
“What will I do, Moosum?”
“What will we do,” corrected Painted Turtle Man, “I will be with you through whatever challenge the future holds.”
Little Grey Bear Boy slept for the next two days. Whenever he woke, Painted Turtle Man gave him water or medicinal tea. His mother was usually there, feeding him a mixture of berries and pemmican. The wounds on his chest were starting to scab over.
“Moosum! He’s scratching again!” called Yellow Hawk Girl.
“I can’t help it. It is so itchy!”
“And to think I was jealous you got to go to the sundance!” teased Flying Rabbit Boy. “Now I am glad I didn’t.”
“Motch! This was not supposed to happen,” stated Painted Turtle Man. “You will have to go next year when it is your time.”
“Maybe I should wait until I am a bit older.”
“Well that is the first time I have ever heard you say something like that,” chuckled Painted Turtle Man.
Little Grey Bear Boy sat up, trying to hear the voices coming in from outside. The others were acting as though they did not notice.
“Would you like some more of the red clover medicine?” Painted Turtle Man asked.
But the boy would not be distracted. “What is going on outside?”
“It is nothing. Your uncle, Brown Shield Man, is taking care of it.”
Blue Elk Man entered the medicine lodge. When he saw Little Grey Bear Boy’s face, he tried to compose himself. “You are awake.”
“Who was it?” asked Painted Turtle Man.
“The Soaring Eagles,” he answered. “That makes all of them.”
“All except the Dog Soldiers.”
“Motch, they were the first,” explained Blue Elk Man. “They came to me and I refused them.”
“Would someone please tell me what is going on?” pleaded Little Grey Bear Boy.
The others looked at him in silence. Blue Elk Man did not like the idea of keeping secrets from his son. Painted Turtle Man gave him a nod.
“All of the warrior societies in the village, as well as some from other villages, have asked to induct you.”
“Me?” exclaimed Little Grey Bear Boy.
“Him?” parroted Flying Rabbit Boy, earning him a frown from his grandfather.
“I have only seen twelve summers,” said Little Grey Bear Boy. “Can I join a warrior society?”
“Motch,” said Painted Turtle Man. “All they want is the prestige of having a Grey-Eye in their ranks. Especially after what happened at the sundance.”
“You must earn that honour,” said Blue Elk Man. “You have not killed an elk or a moose, nor have you saved a life…”
“Then why are the warrior societies asking to induct me? They must not agree with what you are saying.”
“If he gets inducted, will he be able to be chosen as a husband?” asked Flying Rabbit Boy. Painted Turtle Man frowned again.
“I hope you understand these things,” said Blue Elk Man. “Most boys your age would think they are somehow special. They would feel they deserve that which they have not earned. It would show that you are growing into a very fine warrior indeed, if you were to wait until it is time. I had sixteen summers before I became a warrior and twenty-two before your mother chose me.”
Singing Doe entered the medicine lodge. “I don’t think they are going to leave,” she said.
“Who will not leave?” asked Little Grey Bear Boy. “The warrior societies?”
Singing Doe looked at Blue Elk Man and Painted Turtle Man, realizing she may have spoken out of turn. The men simply nodded at her. He might as well know this too.
“Some of the sundancers have been sitting outside the Bear medicine lodge, wanting to see you again,” Singing Doe explained. “They haven’t broken their fast…”
“I don’t understand,” said Little Grey Bear Boy.
“They think the miracle was part of the ceremony,” explained Painted Turtle Man. “Even after the sundance chiefs told them it was finished, they did not listen. They think it will not be over until you say it is finished.”
“I am not a sundance chief!”
At this, Blue Elk Man’s chest puffed. “Though, it would seem your fellow sundancers want to think of you as something much greater. Most of them have never seen the Grey-eye magic before.”
Little Grey Bear Boy thought to himself for a moment and offered a quiet prayer to Kitchi Manitou. When he had made his decision, he threw the soft deer hide blanket off his legs and got up.
“What are you doing? You are not supposed to move.”
“I am sorry, mother,” he said, “but I cannot allow my fellow sundancers to suffer any more.”
Painted Turtle Man stood up and began to speak. Instead he rushed to Little Grey Bear Boy’s side and helped him onto his feet. The boy’s legs were weak and shaky as he dragged himself towards the door. He looked up at his father, who held open the door flaps. If his father did not believe him ready to become a warrior, Little Grey Bear Boy would have to prove himself.
Little Grey Bear Boy had not seen the light of day since the miracle happened. It took him a moment to open his eyes, but as he did he saw the surprised faces of several White Wolf Warriors and a group of dusty sundancers.
“Ah-ho!” said Brown Shield Man as he stepped aside.
The sunburned warriors jumped to attention and looked at the boy.
“It is him!” croaked one of the sundancers. The others cheered weakly. They muttered prayers of thanks with dry, cracked lips.
Little Grey Bear Boy mustered his strength and drew himself up as straight as he was able. The scabs on his chest had opened slightly with his movement and a slow trickle of blood dropped down his torso.
“Sundancers,” Little Grey Bear Boy said, “it is time for you to break your fast. I am just another sundancer, the same as you. I do not know how what you saw happened. I was just as surprised as you were. Please, I beg of you, do not continue to suffer yourselves because of me.”
“But I saw you call to Kitchi Manitou and were answered! You could help me. My mother is very sick…”
“Motch, I prayed to Kitchi Manitou the same as you did. Creator did not obey me, Creator took pity upon me! I do not know how or why this has happened. I will pray for your mother and for all of your families. Only Kitchi Manitou can know what will happen in the days ahead. Please, my brothers, drink some water, eat some food, and when you have recovered your strength, return to your villages to serve your clans. You will see me again next year at the sacred sundance.”
“We wish to stay here and serve you!” pledged one of the younger sundancer
s.
“I am just a boy who has not yet earned a warrior name,” said Little Grey Bear Boy, looking back at his father. “I must serve my mother and my clan. Our village is large and although Mother Earth has been generous with us, it would be asking too much to expect her to feed so many. Your own villages need strong warriors to hunt food and gather wood for the hard faced-moons of Old Man Winter. Return home and serve your clan, the same as I will. We have danced the Dance of Life together and now we are bound in spirit.”
The sundancers looked at one another.
“We will always be connected in the way it matters to our Creator, Kitchi Manitou,” the boy added. “You are my sundance family and you will remain so until the day Kitchi Manitou calls us back to the Spirit World. Go now, and may the Grandmother Bear guide you in the ways of healing.”
“All my relations!” the sundancers holding vigil croaked in unison. They began muttering prayers of thanks to Creator and the ancestor spirits. Little Grey Bear Boy’s legs were shaking and Blue Elk Man and Painted Turtle Man came up behind him, catching him just as he fainted. The two men helped him back into the medicine lodge and put him back onto his bed roll.
The senior warrior of the White Wolf Warrior Society stepped in front of the medicine lodge.
“All right, my people,” he said. “You have seen the boy and you have heard his words. Now I would ask you humbly to do as he wishes. You will see him again next year. Go now and serve Kitchi Manitou in all things!”
White Willow Woman and Singing Doe went about the sundancers with water skins. Some were reluctant at first, but when the two women explained who they were, the parched sundancers took the water.
38
nistomitanaw ayinānīwosāp
As the sundancers broke their fast and recovered their strength, they began to leave Nisichawayasihk and return to their home villages, though throughout the villages what happened at the sundance ceremony was being talked about.
Little Grey Bear Boy’s healing was difficult, but after a few days he was able to walk around the village. Everyone was hard at work trying to replenish their stores of food for the winter. Hosting the sacred sundance ceremony had taxed their resources—none of the clans had any dried meat, wild rice, or berries. The village had given all it could to be good hosts to the pilgrims. That is the way of the Nehiyawak; they welcome visitors as though they are family and would have them want for nothing while under their care.
The Marten, Wolf, and especially the Eagle clans sent their many hunters out often and recovered quickly. The Bears and Turtles were not faring so well and getting discouraged. But not Flying Rabbit Boy—he would awake early to complete his chores, collecting wood and cleaning out the ashes from the centre fire, then go off hunting with his bow. Although he was not able to travel far from the village, he could go as far as the lakeshore in search of ducks and geese, hoping to take some before they migrated south. Time was running out—the leaves of the forest were already changing.
Painted Turtle Man decided it would be good for Little Grey Bear Boy to walk the forest with his cousin. The two boys scoured the marshlands in search of waterfowl. Coming upon a pair of ducks, Flying Rabbit Boy drew back an arrow and released it.
“Not again,” he whined as the arrow flew off wildly and the startled ducks flew away.
“You are getting closer.”
“Motch, it’s my arm. I’ll never be able to aim the bow properly.” He pushed the heel of his palm into the deep scars where the Red-Eye warrior had cut him. It had been three years since the attack.
“I can pull the bow back,” he explained, “but my bow arm shakes when I aim it. Before you turned me into a turtle, he cut me deep into the meat. It does not work as well as it did before.”
“At least Painted Turtle Man was able to save your arm,” joked Little Grey Bear Boy. “You would have a hard time aiming the bow with your teeth!”
The two boys laughed at the thought.
“You are just trying to make me feel better,” said Flying Rabbit Boy. “All the other boys my age are bringing home ducks and geese. How will I prove myself a warrior if I can’t do the tasks everyone else my age can do? Can’t you use the Grey-Eye magic to make me a better hunter?”
“Motch, I can’t even use the Grey-Eye magic to make myself a better hunter. We will keep trying. There are more ducks around here somewhere.”
“Tapwe,” sighed Flying Rabbit Boy, “I am bound to get lucky eventually.”
“Tansi? Young warriors.” The startled boys looked up to see Red Sky Man of the Eagle clan approaching through the bush. Little Grey Bear Boy’s heart started pounding. He felt a lump in the back of his throat as he looked upon the man who had wounded him.
“I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation as I was picking medicines.”
“We did not mean to disturb you, Uncle,” said Flying Rabbit Boy respectfully.
“I explained to your family,” Red Sky Man continued, ignoring Flying Rabbit Boy, “that I had worked with a young Grey-Eyed boy years ago. When I met him, he was in the same situation you are in. He had no idea how to use the magic. I might be able to help you…”
“How could you teach him, Uncle, when you do not have grey eyes yourself?”
Red Sky Man scowled at Flying Rabbit Boy. The boy lowered his eyes to apologize for his impudence.
“Maybe I could show you,” suggested Red Sky Man. “We can find some more ducks.”
“Motch, we would not want to keep you from your work, Uncle,” said Little Grey Bear Boy. “Besides, it’s starting to look like it might rain…”
“Nonsense!” boomed Red Sky Man. “It won’t take too long. What could be more important than a boy learning to provide for his family? How else will you two become warriors?”
Little Grey Bear Boy brightened at this idea. He, too, wanted to provide.
“Come with me,” smiled Red Sky Man.
They began walking around the edge of the marsh. Little Grey Bear Boy still had a sinking feeling in his chest and a lump in his throat, but he had been taught to respect his elders, so follow he must.
Soon, the three found another pair of ducks swimming and diving for food.
“Okay,” whispered Red Sky Man squatting down low. “This is what you must do…You there, Rabbit Boy, will aim your bow. Little Grey Bear Boy, you stand behind him and place your hands on his shoulders. I will stand by you and teach you the hunting chant, which will give him the true aim.”
Little Grey Bear Boy did not like the idea of using the Grey-Eye magic for hunting, as it would not be fair to the ducks. Flying Rabbit Boy, on the other hand, was excited at the prospect of success, earned or otherwise. He notched an arrow to his bowstring and pulled back. His bow arm shook like it always did.
“All right,” whispered Red Sky Man standing behind Little Grey Bear Boy. “Put your hands on his shoulders.”
Little Grey Bear Boy did as instructed and Red Sky Man began to chant the ancient hunting chant. As he was chanting, Little Grey Bear Boy began to sense the vibration of the Grey-Eye magic. It felt a little different this time—there was a strange feeling of warmth behind his eyes as it took hold.
Flying Rabbit Boy’s bow arm stopped shaking and straightened directly at the ducks. He loosed his arrow and it fired straight and true, guided by the Grey-Eye magic. The arrow stuck the hen first through the side of the neck then deflected directly into the front of the drake’s throat. Both ducks killed with a single shot.
“Woo-ooo!” cheered Flying Rabbit Boy having finally succeeded where he had always failed. “Thank-you, Uncle, for your teaching!”
Flying Rabbit Boy dropped his bow and quiver of arrows and proceeded to take off his shirt, leggings, and moccasins. He ran out into the cold water, splashing about and cheering like a fool. He waded out to retrieve the ducks.
“You have done well,” said Red
Sky Man. “You know, there is much more I can teach you.”
“Thank you, Uncle,” said Little Grey Bear Boy. “I am grateful for your teaching, but I must heed my moosum, Painted Turtle Man, who has been helping me since before I can remember.”
“Tapwe, I understand how you must feel about him. Perhaps you have learned all he can teach you. You don’t need to decide anything right now, you are still a boy with plenty of time before you can start to walk man’s road…All I ask is that you come to me when you are ready to earn a name and start to help your family. I know they could use another hunter…”
Little Grey Bear Boy wanted to agree with this reasonable request. For some reason his heart was pounding as Red Sky Man’s eyes looked into him. A half-soaked Flying Rabbit Boy bounded back to them, a fat duck in each hand.
“Thank you, Grandmother Duck,” he shouted up to the sky in front of them. “Cousin, get out your tobacco!”
Red Sky Man smiled. “Well, I will leave you boys to it. Think about what I said.”
“Thank you again, Uncle,” said Little Grey Bear Boy bowing his head respectfully.
Red Sky Man made his way back to the forest.
Flying Rabbit Boy was still smiling from ear to ear. Little Grey Bear Boy rolled his eyes and removed a small pouch from his satchel.
“Brother and sister duck,” he prayed. “We thank you for sacrificing yourselves so that our family can survive. We will honour your courage by ensuring every part of your body is used in a good way. Your meat will be eaten, your sinew will be spun into thread, your feathers will guide our arrows, and your bones will make whistles and charms. If there is even a scrap we are not able to make use of, we will see it returned to Mother Earth, so that the grasses, trees, and plants will nourish your relatives. All my relations, ekosani.”
Little Grey Bear Boy put a clump of tobacco down at the edge of the marsh to honour the spirit of Grandmother Duck.
Flying Rabbit Boy was happier and more excited than Little Grey Bear Boy had seen him in a long while. Back at the village, they stopped by the Turtle lodge so he could do something he had been dreaming about.
