by J. M. LeDuc
You were marked before time as the Kiche, the Sky Spirit Goddess. You must use your markings to bring your power—your atayohkan, spirit animal, to light. Only the spirit leader can help you understand and harness such power.
Pamoon squinted and rubbed her tired eyes. “Spirit leader? Isn’t that who I just spoke to?” she mumbled.
Staring at the jacket, the words began to make sense. As her mind cleared, Scout began to bark. She tried to ignore him, but his bark was relentless. Her gaze followed what he was barking at and once again saw the vine-covered entrance. Squatting down, she hugged her friend. “Good boy,” she smiled.
“Come,” she said. “We need to go see Powaw.”
24
Attack
March 5, 6:00 p.m.
* * *
Bobby and the others hid deep within the woods as the search party tried in vain to find any clue to their disappearance. He could smell the flesh and spirit of those who walked the woods. With each breath, his hunger grew. He looked around at his friends and could tell they felt the same. Mike’s tongue hung out of his mouth, swiping back and forth across his lips. His hunger seemed to drip with his saliva.
While he crouched in wait, Bobby heard a loud sound blast from the opposite side of the woods. When the people heard the sound, they gathered around the vacant campground. He heard a voice telling everyone that it was time to end the day’s search and return to the reservation.
That’s when he spotted two girls. They looked familiar, almost friendly, but Mike’s growl changed his thinking. Instantly, he remembered why he was there. Why Kanontsistonties had sent him and the others to the location.
The girls shuffled forward, appearing sad and dejected.
Bobby heard Mike’s guttural growl. He watched as Mike slinked towards them, his coal, cat-shaped eyes zoning in on his prey. Bobby saw one girl stop to tie her shoe while the other continued to walk and talk, never realizing that her friend was no longer at her side.
* * *
With a new-found speed and stealth, Mike pounced, biting the one who lagged behind before she knew what had happened. As soon as his teeth sank into her flesh, the demons dissolved into black smoke, the teenage girl included, disappearing into the thick forest.
25
Natural World
March 7, 9:00 a.m.
* * *
Pamoon found Tihk asleep in the woods, right where she had entered the Misty Woods. Gently waking him, Tihk’s eyes opened wide, and he threw his arms around her.
“Where did you come from?” Tihk asked.
Pamoon turned to show her the bent tree, but it was gone. Smiling, she said, “I’ll tell you when we get home.”
Walking through the woods, Pamoon stopped and asked, “How did you know where to find me?”
“I tracked you through the woods, when your tracks stopped, I waited.”
Realizing that she had no idea what time it was, Pamoon said, “I hope you didn’t have to wait long.”
Tihk jerked to a stop and stared at her. “You’ve been gone for three days.”
Pamoon stared back in disbelief and scratched her head through tangled hair. “This just keeps getting crazier,” she mumbled.
* * *
Returning to White Eagle’s, Pamoon had a hard time wrapping her head around the fact that she had been gone that long. The only thing she could assume is that time must have sped up while she was part of the spirit world. Her body racing on adrenaline, she told of everything that had happened in one long, continuous sentence. Finished, she wondered why everyone seemed sad.
“I made it back from the Misty Woods. Why does everyone look so depressed?”
“You need to eat and shower—you stink. Then we’ll talk,” Nuna said.
After a long, hot shower, Pamoon chowed on French toast and bacon, while Scout devoured his meal, as well. All the while, White Eagle, Nuna and Tihk drank coffee in silence, watching her take every bite.
“You’re not usually this quiet,” Pamoon said to Nuna. “What’s going on?”
Nuna’s chubby fingers drummed the table. “A lot has happened since you’ve been gone.”
Pamoon sensed Nuna’s trepidation. “It’s not like you to hold back. Just spill it.”
“Your friend Celia is missing.”
Pamoon didn’t realize she did it, but she must have dropped her fork because there was no mistaking the sound of it hitting the plate before bouncing onto the hardwood floor. The noise startled her but not enough for her to move. Your friend is missing reverberated inside her head. She reached for the glass in front of her and swigged the orange juice, not sure if she wanted to know the answer to the question she was about to ask—but the words spilled from her mouth. “Did she go into the woods?”
Nuna squeezed Pamoon’s hand in hers.
“Both she and Mary Lynn asked to be part of the search for the boys,” White Eagle said. “They were part of a large group. The police chief assigned them to the search party that was walking a grid by the campfire. He figured that would be the safest place because it had been searched so many times before.”
Pamoon started to feel the same nausea she’d felt in the Misty Woods. “What happened to Celia?” she mouthed.
“Just before sunset, every night, a horn blasted to call off the search for the day. When the horn sounded two days ago, each group did a head count before heading back to the reservation. Walking back, I heard Mary Lynn scream. When I reached her, she was alone; Celia was gone.”
“What did Mary Lynn say? I mean, she must have seen something.”
Nuna squeezed Pamoon’s hand tighter.
“When questioned,” White Eagle continued, “Mary Lynn said that when the horn blasted, she and Celia followed the rest of the search party. She said she asked Celia a question and when she didn’t answer, she turned around and that’s when she noticed she was gone.”
“Gone? Just like that?” Pamoon tore her hand from Nuna’s and waved it in the air. “That makes no sense! How does someone just disappear?”
The chief shrugged. “I don’t know.”
"I need to go see Mary Lynn and talk to her, myself."
"Not possible," White Eagle said. "After Celia disappeared, her parents were afraid she might be next, so they took her north to her grandparents."
Pamoon jumped from her chair, grabbed her staff, and ran from the house.
26
The Reservation
March 7, Noon
* * *
Pamoon dropped her staff and ran through the reservation. Up ahead, she saw yellow tape blocking the land from the woods. A swarm of people were gathered. It looked as if the entire tribe and everyone from Swamp Ridge were there.
Tihk caught up to her, grabbed her by the shirt, and told her to stay put. She stood, frozen in place, as Tihk spoke to Police Chief Tucker. Eyeing the scene, she noticed a group of women go in and out of Tihk’s screen door.
Nuna, now standing beside her, said, “I’m going to go see if Tsomah needs any help, want to come?”
Pamoon shook her head. “No, I need to know what Tihk and Chief Tucker are talking about. I’ll wait here until they’re finished.”
With Scout next to her, she stood off to the side trying to take everything in while the two men finished their conversation. Waiting, she noticed the red bandana tied to Powaw’s door. I wonder if he went back to the sweat lodge again? Her thoughts were broken by a woman’s scream.
She saw Tihk run towards the voice; Pamoon ran after him. A bunch of people gathered around the crying woman. Pamoon nudged her way through the crowd and stopped in shock. The crying woman was Celia’s mother, Debbie.
Debbie wailed, her hands covering her face. That’s when Pamoon noticed she was clutching something in her hand. Celia’s necklace. Wide-eyed, Pamoon gasped, her heart breaking.
Celia never would have removed her locket.
Pamoon heard Celia’s dad, Jack, yelling for his wife. As the crowd parted, she saw him running f
rom the direction of the woods, his eyes swollen and ringed like a raccoon, he looked like he hadn’t slept in days. Throwing his arms around his wife, he clenched his fist around the dangling necklace.
Witnessing her friend’s parents’ despair, a lump formed in the back of Pamoon’s throat, making it hard to breathe.
“All right everyone, move aside so we can get through,” Chief Tucker said, breaking through the growing crowd. Pamoon watched as he took control of the mob, trying to calm the frantic couple.
The police chief reached out and touched Celia’s mom on the sleeve; she jerked away from his touch. Anger seemed to flush Debbie’s already reddened cheeks. “She’s gone!” she cried.
“Debbie, let’s not jump to conclusions. We have no evidence that anything bad has happened to Celia.”
“No evidence!” Jack yelled. “What the hell do you call this?”
Grumbling grew within the crowd. Heads bobbed up and down in agreement. The police chief raised his hand attempting to stop the verbal onslaught while nodding to a crime scene tech to take the necklace.
“No,” Jack said, clutching the locket to his chest. “This is the only thing we have left of our baby.”
“Jack,” the chief said softly, “we need to take the necklace and have it checked for prints and DNA. You have my word you’ll get it back.”
“Your word! Is that the same word you gave me yesterday when you told me you would find our daughter?”
“Look around, Jack. We’re doing everything we can. Please, this could be the break we’ve been hoping for.”
Tihk, a friend of Jack’s, stepped forward and gripped the man’s shoulder. “Tucker’s right, Jack.” His eyes moved from the man’s face to the necklace, and back. “Please. Let the officer have it.”
Jack dropped the chain in an open baggie, his emotional restraint falling with the locket.
Pamoon didn’t know what to do or say when Celia’s mom locked eyes with her, but somehow she stumbled forward and threw her arms around her.
Wrapped in a hug of despair, Pamoon held tight, barely breathing, not knowing what to say. Time seemed to stand still while Debbie cried on her shoulder, mumbling, “My baby’s gone, my baby’s gone.” Somewhere deep inside Pamoon, she knew she was the only one who could change that reality.
Pamoon smelled Nuna’s perfume before she saw or heard her. “Come with me,” Nuna said to the couple. “Let’s go inside and get you a cup of tea.”
Pamoon’s arms slipped from Debbie as Nuna led Celia’s parents toward Tihk’s.
As the crowd thinned, Pamoon saw Powaw standing on his front porch, clutching her staff. Scout sat at his side, almost majestic in appearance.
Pamoon tentatively moved toward him, becoming more anxious with every step. As she closed the distance, she noticed he looked older than he had a few days earlier. Hearing Tihk’s footsteps fall in beside her, she whispered, “Why does Powaw look so old?”
“He hasn’t eaten since he returned from the lodge.”
“Why?” Pamoon asked, not taking her eyes off Powaw.
“He said food would cloud his mind and not allow him to communicate with the spirits.”
Kise’s words suddenly came back to Pamoon: Only the spirit leader can help you understand and harness such power.
Pamoon quickened her step and embraced Powaw.
Powaw broke the hug, tilted her chin upward, and raked his bony fingers through her tangled hair. Handing her the staff, he opened the door and led her inside. “Come, Kahkakow, there is much to do and time grows short.”
27
Raven
March 7, 1:00 p.m.
* * *
The incense and heat smacked her in the face before Powaw finished opening the door. Inside was worse; the humidity oppressive, the smoke burned her throat.
“Why is it so hot in here?” she gasped.
“My nephew would not allow me to go back to the lodge, so I brought the lodge to me.”
“Why?”
Pamoon watched Powaw gingerly sit on the floor. Facing him, she did the same, taking a cross-legged position. Peering in her eyes, he answered her question, “I needed to make the environment open to the spirits.”
“Did they come?”
“Yes.”
“In that case can you turn the air on?”
Smiling suddenly, he threw his head back with laughter.
His laugh was contagious and Pamoon joined in, but the laughter faded and his face turned solemn.
“You said the spirits came,” she said. “What did they tell you?”
“You haven’t told me anything yet, Kahkakow.”
Me? She thought. When she was about to ask him what he was talking about, another question passed her lips. “Why do you keep calling me Raven?”
He waved his callused finger in front of her. “Not Raven, the Raven.”
“I don’t understand. What’s the difference?”
He reached out and touched Pamoon’s face with his fingers. At first touch, he pulled away as if he’d been shocked. Again, he reached forward, touching her face. Pamoon watched as he closed his eyes; first it seemed like pain was etched on his furrowed brow, but as he continued to trace her skin with his fingers, his expression changed. The muscles in his forehead relaxed allowing the creases to flatten.
Opening his eyes, they appeared brighter, his age lines fewer in number. In fact, his entire face seemed younger.
His hand resting on her cheek, he spoke to her in Cree. “You entered the Spirit Cave and have been to the Spirit Mount.”
Surprised she could understand him, Pamoon wasn’t sure if it was a statement or a question; she just nodded in response.
“Then you know why I called you Kahkakow. It is the name the Creator called you, is it not?”
Again, Pamoon nodded. “She told me I needed to seek the Spirit Leader to understand and harness my power. I know you are the tribe’s spirit leader, but I don’t know what power she was talking about. She spoke in a lot of riddles.”
Powaw didn’t respond but motioned for Pamoon to stand and then used her arm to help himself up. “Come, we must get ready.”
Frustrated, Pamoon stomped her foot. “Wait. I don’t understand what you’re talking about. Get ready for what?”
Powaw didn’t speak, he just turned toward her and smiled.
“Why are you smiling?” Pamoon’s frustration continued to grow.
“Because you are speaking in Cree.”
Pamoon gasped, her eyes as wide as her mouth, “I am. But how?”
“It is your destiny.” Powaw turned and stumbled his way toward his bedroom. “The destiny of Kahkakow. The destiny of the Kiche.”
28
Transformation
March 7, Sundown
* * *
Pamoon tried not to fidget. She had been sitting in the same chair for the past three hours. Two of the female elders and Nuna had been with her the entire time, helping to get her ready—primping and sometimes prodding. They dressed her in Native American attire, washed and straightened her matted hair, and applied paint to her face and arms.
Hearing Scout groan, she glanced at the wolf who lay by her feet. He must be so bored.
A knock on the door and the sound of Powaw’s voice shook her from her funk.
He appeared in awe when he looked at her. To Pamoon, it seemed like years of pain and stress had melted from Powaw’s persona. He nodded toward Nuna and the others, thanking them for all their hard work, his eyes never wavering from her. The longer he looked at her, the bigger his smile grew.
“What? What are you smiling at?” Pamoon blurted.
Powaw motioned for her to stand and led her to a full-length mirror. “Look.”
Pamoon’s mouth dropped open as she gazed at the reflection staring back at her. Lifting her hands, she ached to touch her skin and clothing but stopped short. Eyeing Nuna, she asked if it was okay. In response, Nuna held her hand, bringing her fingers to her dress.
&
nbsp; Running them lightly over her dress, Pamoon could feel the soft texture of the tanned buckskin. Gently she touched the brightly-colored beadwork woven into the collar. Her eyes traveled from the dress downward and rested on her feet. They were bare except for intricate beadwork that was sewn around her ankles and feet.
Pamoon’s eyes traced back up her reflection until she re-focused on her face. “It can’t be,” she muttered.
Her eyelids were painted in brown hues and her eyebrows in a darker shade of the same. On her face were two white streaks running down from under her eyes outward to just below her cheekbones. Her face was framed by her short, spiky hair, which was adorned in grey feathers and turquois beads. Around her neck, she wore a turquoise and bone choker, her wrists wrapped in matching bracelets.
She no longer looked like the girl she was a few hours ago; she now looked like a younger version of Kise.
Pamoon turned her attention from the mirror to Powaw and the women. About to ask if they knew who she resembled, her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the doorbell.
As the elders left the room, Powaw instructed her to stay put until he called for her.
Alone in Powaw’s bedroom for the first time, Pamoon looked about like a curious cat. It was packed with leather-bound books and Cree artifacts. If I didn’t know better, I would think Powaw was a hoarder, she laughed.
She was fascinated by the artifacts but drawn to the books. The first thing that struck her was that none of them had titles on the bindings. Touching them, they were made of a faded brown leather, soft and worn. Curious, she removed one from the shelf and noticed the etching on the cover. Cree words burnt into the leather.
