by Mike Blakely
“It ran back among the lodges,” Wounded Bear answered. He smelled a faint whiff of snowberry tea from the lodge. The baby was still crying, and the old man heard his daughter, River Woman, cooing at it like a dove.
“Are you sure it was a dog? I never heard a dog scream like that. I never heard a dog run on hooves.”
“It was a very strange dog. A big one. As big as an elk!”
The puhakut scowled. “When the moment came, you told me it was a big dog. I hope River Woman’s baby does not suffer from some spirit you have offended!”
“It was a big dog, old woman! Do not speak like a witch! The spirits sent it from the Land of Shadows. It was a shadow-dog! Now, tell me about my grandchild!”
The midwife ducked inside. Her voice sounded kinder from within: “You have a close friend, old man.”
Wounded Bear smiled. He began to pace along on stiff legs, weaving his way among the patches of snow, holding to the red dirt where footing was surer for an old warrior. He stalked through the camp, quiet now, after the passage of the strange beast he had named the shadow-dog.
Suddenly his old eyes caught the shape of a track in the snow, and he stooped over it to look at it closer and to feel its edges. Wounded Bear began to worry. What if Broken Bones was right? What if he had made a mistake and offended some spirit? This was like no dog track, no hoof-print, nothing he had ever seen. There was a track of a real dog beside it, which made him wonder why he had ever called the creature a big dog, or a shadow-dog, or any kind of dog. He straightened over the track and strode anxiously down through the village.
Below camp he heard the gushing of the spring called Never Freezes and saw a gathering of warriors and women. Pushing his way among them, he made out the large shape of the strange beast on the ground, still struggling against death, its legs groping helplessly for ground over which to run, its head lunging skyward in a vain attempt to rise. The arrows of several warriors stuck out of the body of the dying animal, and lance wounds ran with blood.
Wounded Bear’s son-in-law, Shaggy Hump, was standing over the animal, the long buckskin fringe of his sleeves still swinging from having drawn his bow. The strange, hairy neck fell against the ground for an instant, and Shaggy Hump shot his arrow into the spine just behind the head, stilling the animal with a final flinch.
“Where did that thing come from?” asked a younger warrior.
“It came from below.” Shaggy Hump touched the bloody nose of the beast with the sole of the buffalo wood boots he wore over his moccasins. “I was waiting where Broken Bones told me to go as my wife gave birth to our child. This animal came to the spring to drink, and I stalked below it to shoot it and to drive it through the camp.”
“What is it?” the young warrior asked.
“This is the animal the Raccoon-Eyed People told me about when I went to trade with them on the plains. They said it was as big as seven big dogs, but I did not believe them, for they have many strange ways.”
Old Wounded Bear came closer to look at the strangely hoofed feet of the animal. “It is a big dog,” he insisted.
The people laughed at the old man stooping over the dead animal.
“The biggest dog I have ever seen!” His eyes looked up to his son-in-law’s face. “It is a shadow-dog.”
“Why are you here, Ahpoo?” Shaggy Hump said, using the term of respect for his wife’s father. “What has happened at the birthing lodge that Broken Bones has raised for my wife?”
“My daughter gave birth to your child at the moment this animal made a sacred circle around the lodge. Broken Bones wanted to know what kind of animal it was, and I told her it was a shadow-dog.”
“Why did you tell her that, Ahpoo?”
“She said she must know, because the baby was coming out, and it was time to fashion the medicine. I could not see what this thing was, and so I had to tell her something. I told her it was a shadow-dog because I saw it bite like a dog.”
Shaggy Hump seemed to search his heart as he walked around the dead animal. The people of his band waited for him to speak, for he was respected among them. Shaggy Hump had brought meat to camp when all others had failed, and he had shared with his neighbors, trusting that his medicine would stay strong, enabling him to kill more food. He had traveled far and brought home scalps of enemies who had attacked the Burnt Meat People. He was strong and wise, and his words made even his rivals listen.
He squatted beside the dead animal, and put his hand on it as if to enjoy its warmth. His long braids fell over his shoulders and dangled near the blood on the carcass. His smile was broad when he looked up at the people gathered around. His eyes were black and darting as they shot toward his brother, Black Horn.
“Brother, tell my wife’s father again what we saw the time we traveled far to the south to find our enemies, the Yutas.”
Black Horn stepped forward to tell the story as he had recited it in council: “We found the trail of our enemy that showed they had moved their camp. On this trail we saw the tracks of an animal with feet like this one, and the mark of poles on the ground where this animal dragged them…” He looked at old Wounded Bear. “… like a dog. Like a very big dog, for the poles were loaded heavily and cut deeply into the earth.”
“What does this mean?” Wounded Bear asked.
Shaggy Hump stood, coming straight up on short, powerful legs. “It means you are a wise old warrior, Ahpoo. You were wise to see that this strange animal is a big dog of the Shadow Land, for our enemies have used it to pull their pole-drags as we use our dogs. The spirits have sent a shadow-dog to us on this, the same day my wife gives birth to our first child. This is a great day. Now, Ahpoo, will you tell me about my child?”
The dread lifted from Wounded Bear’s heart, and he remembered the happy cooing of his daughter with her crying baby. “The child was born as the shadow-dog circled the lodge, and then old Broken Bones spoke to me from inside the lodge, saying, Wounded Bear—old great warrior—you have a close friend.”
Shaggy Hump lifted his bow over his head, his black eyes gleaming. “I have a son!” he shouted.
Some of the men came around the dead beast on the ground to touch Shaggy Hump as if counting strokes in battle.
“My people,” old Wounded Bear said, raising his hands. “Hear me! This is a good day. This is the Day of the Shadow-dog! Now, shadow-dog is a good name for this animal. It is like a dog, that is true. But it is also different—like the coyote is different from the wolf—like the lesser bear is different from the great humpbacked bear. This is a shadow-dog. It is different from a dog. It has feet with claws that have all grown together to make one solid hoof. It is the size of seven dogs in one. It has wandered over a pass from the Shadow Land and has come to serve us. It is different from a dog in many ways, and so it is not a dog at all, but a shadow-dog.”
Wounded Bear circled the carcass and smelled the blood, which made his stomach growl. “Now, listen. Our father’s fathers have told us that the dog and the wolf and the coyote are ancestors of the True Humans, from the ancient times when animals spoke and walked around like two-leggeds, and so it is not a good thing to eat a dog because it is our ancestor. But this beast is so strange that I do not think it is my ancestor. It does not come from the earth, but from the Shadow Land. I hear the spirits say that it is a very good thing to eat a shadow-dog.”
The people laughed with relief, for they were hungry, and the beast was made of meat, whether it came from the Land of Shadows or not.
“Wounded Bear shows his wisdom again,” Shaggy Hump said. “I am forbidden to eat meat until the cord dries and falls from my new son’s belly, but I will find some roots or pine nuts to eat, and sing the song my spirit-protector taught me as the Burnt Meat People of the True Humans make a feast of the shadow-dog in honor of my new son!”
He began to pace very excitedly, as if he did not know what to do next. “I must wash my testicles in the cold water now, for Broken Bones is bathing the baby. I must not look upon my wife and
child for thirty suns, or the spirits will cause me to bleed to death from my nose. Listen well, all you young boys, for these are things you need to know. Black Horn, my brother, go where I am forbidden and speak to Broken Bones. Tell me what she says about my son!”
And so the flint knives peeled the hide of the shadow-dog and carved warm meat from bone. The fire drills conjured smoke and flame from wood. The Burnt Meat People feasted on the animal that in times to come would be called First Horse. They declared it the best meal ever consumed by any True Humans anywhere. All night the elders told tales and sang songs and offered up blessings of tobacco smoke to the newborn son of River Woman and Shaggy Hump. In seasons ahead of this day, the Burnt Meat People would know the child as Born-on-the-Day-of-the-Shadow-Dog, and they would smile as they spoke his name, for the day of his birth held a story that would bring much joy in the telling.
2
The first moment the spirits gave him to remember began with a horse running toward him from a green and distant hill. It happened during the Moon of Geese Returning, when the True Humans killed deer and drank the mixture of warm milk and blood that ran from the slashed udders of the does. It was the time when the children played in the spring sunshine and ate curdled milk taken from the stomachs of slain fawns.
The horse of his first memories came over a faraway hill of green grass and gray sage, running toward him, becoming many horses of many different colors. The horses ran to him as he sat on a robe spread across the ground, and they shook the ground and made dirt fly onto his robe. One of the huge animals blasted him with warm, sweet-smelling breath and nudged him with a soft nose, knocking him onto his back. This pleased the horses, and they ran away, kicking more dirt at Born-on-the-Day-of-the-Shadow-Dog. But he only laughed in his little child’s voice, for none of this frightened him. He rolled over to see his mother running toward him from the lodge.
As the horses galloped away from Born-on-the-Day-of-the-Shadow-Dog, River Woman reached his place on the ground and lifted him. The boy felt his arm fall comfortably over his mother’s shoulder, his legs straddling her hip with familiarity. He grabbed her black hair and pulled hard, as he always liked to do. She only grabbed his wrist to keep him from pulling harder. Her voice was running like a swift river, and Born-on-the-Day-of-the-Shadow-Dog knew she was upset, but not with him. His mother never got upset with him, and so he pulled her hair with his free hand, because she liked it when he played like this.
Now the sound of another horse came, and the child looked to the green hill to see his father, Shaggy Hump, riding toward him. This would be the first time he remembered seeing a man riding a horse, and it made him so happy that he tried to slide down his mother’s hip so he could go to his father, but his mother would not let him.
Shaggy Hump came to his wife and child at a trot on a bay horse and pulled the rawhide thong looped around the mount’s jaw to make it stop.
“Your crazy horses came over the hill and almost stepped on your son!” River Woman said.
Shaggy Hump’s smile changed to a scowl. “Pookai, woman!” Just as quickly, his expression became a smile again, for his son. He urged the horse forward by leaning in the direction he wanted to move and by squeezing with his knees. He grabbed Born-on-the-Day-of-the-Shadow-Dog by the wrist, wrenched the naked child away from his mother, and swung his son in front of him onto the blanketed withers of the horse.
Looking down on her, the boy could see the part in the middle of his mother’s hair painted bright red—a thing he had never noticed before because he did not remember sitting so high above her. He laughed and pulled the mane of the horse.
“Look how my son holds on!” Shaggy Hump cried.
“He learned by pulling my hair,” River Woman said.
“As I did!” The warrior laughed and was pleased that his wife laughed with him. “You are a great teacher of riders, River Woman.”
Shaggy Hump made the horse cut and run, and his son riding in front of him squealed with joy. Born-on-the-Day-of-the-Shadow-Dog held the mane tightly and mimicked his father’s use of the rawhide reins.
“Hear your father speak, my son. I was the first Noomah warrior of the Burnt Meat People ever to see a horse.”
“Noomah,” said Born-on-the-Day-of-the-Shadow-Dog, mimicking his father’s speech. He knew this word somehow and understood its meaning. The Real People. The True Humans. Those like me.
“It happened on the day you were born,” his father continued. “I killed First Horse so that the people of your camp could have a feast in your honor. Your grandfather named the horse shadow-dog that day, but since then, the spirits have given us many other names to call the horse. Esikuma, puku, toohooya. Elk-dog, seven-dogs, big-dog. Ekakuma, tosa naboo, ohtookuma. Bay, paint, sorrel…”
As he listened to his father’s voice, Born-on-the-Day-of-the-Shadow-Dog kicked at the withers of the horse he rode with his father. He pulled the long mane to his face, felt it tickle his lips, and smelled the good musky aroma of the beast.
“The horse comes from the south. I know this, my son. On my first ride over the hunting grounds of the plains, I came upon our enemies, the Yutas. I made a truce with the Yutas so that we might travel together to trade with the Raccoon-Eyed People far out on the plains. During this journey, the Yutas told me many strange stories about men with white skin and hairy faces far away to the south, who have many horses and much iron. The day you were born, everything began to change, for First Horse brought strong medicine. The spirits gave First Horse to the Burnt Meat People so that we would not starve that winter. This spirit-pony ran around the lodge where you were born, making a sacred circle. When First Horse died, his power and his soul leapt into your heart, my son.”
They rode over endless green grasslands dotted with sage, across a talking brook, among the smoke-breathing lodges painted with many colors and signs. And Shaggy Hump continued to lecture his son:
“After the trading and the truce, I went with my brother, Black Horn, to the hunting grounds of the Yutas. There we found our enemy’s camp and crept among their horses at night. We took these horses for our own. And we took the scalp of the enemy warrior who guarded them and carved his dead body so that we will know him by his scars in the Shadow Land. Now our hunters ride far and find more game to kill. We do not suffer so much from hunger, and we move quickly away from our enemies when they are stronger than we are. We are now like the antelope, as we were once like the snake.”
Born-on-the-Day-of-the-Shadow-Dog leaned back and felt his skin pressing against his father’s bare stomach. He listened He did not really understand, but he would hear the same stories many times over in seasons to come, and he would learn.
“Your father is a great taker and rider of horses, Shadow Dog—a great warrior-hunter who rides far to trade and find game and count battle strokes. You will also ride far, my son. You will collect scalps like the claws of great bears. You will own ponies like our enemies own lice.”
They rode and rode and rode, until Shadow Dog yawned and closed his eyes, sleeping peacefully to the good steady motion of the horse and the sound of his father’s voice.
* * *
In seasons to come, Shaggy Hump would claim with pride that his son began training horses when his winters numbered only five. By this age, Shadow Dog had grown a good set of teeth and used them often to bite his mother. This made much fun, for his mother would yell and squirm, and he thought she liked this game, for River Woman never punished him for anything he did.
She would say, “Hear your mother! Do not bite!”
But Shadow Dog knew she did not mean it, even though she pretended to make her voice sound stern. He would say, “I bite!”
One day, Shadow Dog was taken to his aunt, Looks Away, who was the wife of Black Horn. Black Horn had captured Looks Away from the Yutas and had taken her as his wife, which was well, for in those days the Yutas knew more of horses than the True Humans, and Looks Away was able to teach Black Horn about horses.
On
this day, Looks Away was tending Shadow Dog because River Woman had gone to stay in the lodge for unclean women. Shadow Dog was chasing puppies and making dust rise and blow into a paunch in which Looks Away was cooking stew. Twice, Looks Away told him to play with his puppies in some other place. The third time, she seized his wrist to make him listen, and when she did, he bit the back of her hand.
At first, it was like the game he played with his mother, for Looks Away gasped and flinched, which was fun. But then she seized his arm again, with much strength, and sank her own teeth deep enough into Shadow Dog’s flesh to make him howl. She pressed her hand hard over his mouth to silence him, and said, “You will not bite!”
Like Shaggy Hump, Black Horn had horses—as many as he could keep. One of Shaggy Hump’s mares had borne a foal, and Looks Away was keeping the mare staked close to the camp to prevent wolves and lions from eating the foal, who stayed close to his mother. She went to lead the mare to water that day, with the mark of Shadow Dog’s teeth still in her flesh, and the mark of hers still plain in his. Shadow Dog came with her, because he loved the little foal.
As Looks Away was leading the mare, Shadow Dog played with the foal, grabbing its mane or tail, and trying to climb on its back. Looks Away was watching them play when she saw Shadow Dog kick the foal in the stomach as he tried to scramble onto its back.
Suddenly, the foal craned its thin neck and bit Shadow Dog on the back of the thigh. This made the boy flinch and yell, but he held to the foal, grabbing it now by the ear. Almost as soon as his feet were on the ground, Shadow Dog clenched the ear between his teeth and drew blood from the foal.
Grabbing the soft lower lip of the frightened foal and holding still to the ear, Shadow Dog gained control of the little animal, though it was larger than he was. He made the foal stand still, then said, “You will not bite!”
It was said that this foal never again tried to bite another True Human, even when it was grown and painted and wearing war feathers in its tail.
