Mintikwa and the Underwater Panther

by JR Green

  The boy just ahead of him got Cougar. What an excellent totem, Mintikwa thought, the hallmark of a warrior. It was supposed to draw out courage, loyalty, and responsibility from the warrior. A warrior with Cougar as his totem might one day be a leader. Mintikwa wondered if his might also be Cougar. The other animal spirits which had expressed themselves today were Badger, Boar, and Bee, all signs of a warrior.

  “Mintikwa,” the master addressed him.

  Mintikwa felt proud of his performance, even though his choice to stay likely meant that he would soon join a scouting party headed for the south. His uncle would not be pleased.

  Mintikwa reached into his pocket and produced his kernels of corn. He handed them to the priest.

  The priest took them and cast them into the mortar. He said a quick prayer as the apprentice ground them. When he was finished, he reached in, scooped up the cornmeal, and handed it to the priest. The priest took it and spread it over the bedrock next to him. He reached for the water skin and gently poured it over the maize. Leaning in, he examined the curdling meal. His future was about to crystalized before him.

  The priest turned to him and cleared his throat. He said, “Your totem is Beaver.”

  Before he could think, Mintikwa blurted out, “Beaver?”

  The priest was taken aback. The master of the Rite shushed Mintikwa, scolding him for speaking out. The apprentice only looked amused. But Mintikwa hadn’t meant to speak out loud. It’s just that the priest’s choice of animal spirit for him was such a shock. Beaver was not a warrior’s totem at all. It was a gatherer’s totem. Rather than wait for an answer to his unintended question, Mintikwa bowed, formally accepting the animal spirit. He felt his cheeks turn crimson. He left the circle with slumped shoulders.

  “What happened?” Uncle Saul asked. “Did you change your mind?”

  Mintikwa shook his head. “I messed up,” he said. “I was afraid everyone would laugh at me.” Mintikwa swept up to his uncle. “Did you hear what they gave me?” he asked.

  His uncle nodded, casting his eyes downward.

  “Beaver?” Mintikwa said. “Why would they give me Beaver when everyone else is getting warrior totems?”

  “Don’t take offense, nephew,” Uncle Saul said. “I never imagined it would go that way, but don’t let them bother you. Beaver isn’t so bad.”

  “Beaver is a gatherer,” Mintikwa protested. “Is this because of what I did at the whirlpool?” he asked his uncle. “Or because I collect the mussels? It’s punishment, isn’t it?”

  His uncle shook his head. “I suggest you don’t take this personally,” he offered. “On the bright side, you won’t be going south to fight the Soulless.”

  Mintikwa thought of his familial line. “This is about my father and grandfather,” Mintikwa said. “Because they wanted peace.”

  “Not outside the realm of possibility,” Uncle Saul agreed. “But are you sure you feel no connection with this manitou?”

  Mintikwa shook his head. “Beaver is not right for me. I made a mistake,” he said. “I only entered the Rite because I was angry. I was worried about what they would think of me.”

  His uncle nodded. “True, those are not good reasons to go through with something,” he said, somewhat reluctantly.

  “Please, Uncle Saul,” Mintikwa implored, sensing that it was his safety that was weighing so heavily on his uncle’s mind at present. “I want to seek vision in the wilds. Is it too late?”

  Saul gripped Mintikwa’s shoulder, concern for his nephew showing in his eyes. He shook his head. “It is not too late,” he declared. “If you feel that Beaver is not right for you.”

  He patted his nephew on the back. They turned and began walking away from the Rite. “You should keep looking,” he said. “But one thing. I think it best if we keep quiet about what’s coming next,” Uncle Saul said. “We won’t make a fuss.”

  “What do you mean?” Mintikwa asked.

  “Your preparations for vision seeking,” Uncle said. “And the animal spirit you find in the wilds, your true totem,” Uncle said. “You’ll have to keep that to yourself. Are you okay with that?”

  Mintikwa considered. “I think so,” he said, not entirely sure what the implications were.

  “Good. We’ll start with the sweat lodge. You’ll need to start your fasting soon,” Uncle Saul said, his mind beginning to work now. “There is much to do. I’ll need a day to prepare, and then we’ll begin.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  MINTIKWA HOPED TO rest the following day and keep to himself, but just as dawn was overcoming the darkness, his aunt shook him awake. Then she set him to work. He helped the women of his mother’s clan as they prepared for the day. At first, Mintikwa enjoyed working and talking with his relatives about the latest happenings, but by mid-morning, he grew weary of it. His vision-seeking ceremony would be tomorrow. That meant only one day remained for play, so as he worked on yet another task given to him by his aunt, Mintikwa stopped chatting so much and soon drifted away. Finally, seeing his chance at escape, he put down his tools and fled.

  He met with his friend Hare. They ran to the riverbank, crawled into a canoe, and made for the confluence of the Vermillion River, their favorite place to swim because it was away from town and away from their families and any work that grownups might find for them. However, today something besides swimming drew Mintikwa and his friend to the banks of the Vermillion.

  Poor harvests of the past few seasons had forced the farmers onto new ground. And now, for the first time since entering the sixth world, five generations in all, they were clearing new fields. But neither was it merely the newly cleared fields that drew the boys to the riverbank. Instead, what brought them was the farmers and what they had found in the earth. In their digging, they uncovered strange artifacts in the soil. What, in fact, came out of the ground the boys didn’t know. What information they had came from eavesdropping on others, and the matter was spoken of only in whispers. Truth be told, no one knew what was coming out of the ground. The artifacts disappeared as soon as they were unearthed, likely hidden away by the priests.

  They paddled across the people’s river and then up the swift waters of the Vermillion. They beached their canoe among the reeds and then dove into the shallows.

  The boys drifted into the deeper part of the channel. They dove to the bottom and swam in the depths.

  After a few moments, Hare came up, but Mintikwa hugged the riverbed a while longer.

  Finally, Mintikwa surfaced. The boys tread water.

  “I’m going into the wilds to find my totem,” Mintikwa said.

  “That’s daring. I haven’t heard of anyone doing that for—“ he said, thinking for a moment. “Forever come to think of it. You didn’t get enough soul-searching and scrutiny at the Rite?”

  “I’m serious,” Mintikwa said.

  His friend nodded. “True. You are serious. Going off to get yourself killed,” Hare said, and then he reached for the top of Mintikwa’s head and pushed him under.

  When Mintikwa surfaced again, he did so with eyes narrowed.

  “Are you fasting?” Hare asked, ignoring his friend’s look.

  “I start tonight,” Mintikwa said. “Sweatlodge ceremony.”

  “When’s that?”

  “In the morning,” Mintikwa said.

  “You should be stuffing your face with food right now,” Hare said.

  “Why?” Mintikwa asked.

  “How can you be asking that?” Hare said. “You won’t be eating for days. Maybe weeks. You’ll starve to death unless you eat everything you can get your hands on.”

  His friend had a point.

  Hare turned and began to swim toward the middle of the river. “Let’s go,” he said.

  “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see,” Hare said.

  Mintikwa kicked at the water to catch up to his friend.

  They swam across the Vermillion and came out on its opposite shore. They waded through the grass and walked a
long a trail. When they came upon a maize field, Hare stopped.

  “What are we doing?”

  “You’ve heard the stories,” Hare said. “Don’t you want to see what they’re finding out there?”

  “But these aren’t the new fields,” Mintikwa said.

  “I know,” Hare said, smiling and pointing across the open space. “The new fields are through those trees, just beyond this field.”

  “You’re hungry, aren’t you?” Hare asked.

  “Yeah,” Mintikwa said. “Why?”

  “We’ll walk through and pick a bite to eat on our way to the new fields,” he said.

  Mintikwa shook his head. “It’s not harvest time. You know they’ll kill us if they catch us in there.”

  Hare looked about. “Do you see anybody?”

  Mintikwa looked across the field. “Well, no,” he admitted.

  “How are they going to kill us then?” Hare said, and then he walked into the field.

  On cue, Mintikwa’s stomach growled. He could do nothing but follow his friend.

  Endless rows of maize stretched across the field, but with little rain this season, the stalks were too short. Harvest would likely be meager again. Mintikwa and Hare sped down the rows between the stunted cornstalks and tiptoed over the vines of withering squash and bean plants.

  They made their way across the field. They didn’t speak a word to each other. Mintikwa suspected Hare was equally worried by what they saw, such a pitiful sight.

  Unfortunately for Mintikwa, there were hardly any vegetables worth stealing. The field angled to the west, and they followed a grove of peach trees, which divided sections of the crops. Hare did manage to find a couple of shoots of young beans and one tiny ear of corn.

  “Sorry, buddy,” Hare said, offering the corn to his friend. “Care for a taste?”

  Mintikwa took the cob and sunk his teeth into it. Despite its small size, it did taste good.

  Suddenly, they came upon a group of women tending the fields. Mintikwa and Hare froze. The women spotted them.

  The crop tenders and the boys were equally startled.

  Finally, one of the women began to shout at them.

  “Get out of there!” She raised her hands, threatening the boys. “Put that down!” she said to Mintikwa about the maize in his hand.

  The other women joined in, and they started toward them, waving their tools menacingly.

  Mintikwa and Hare ran for the woods. The women followed, but the boys soon outdistanced them. They ran on until the women’s voices faded into the distance. They sprinted up and down a couple of hills into the depths of the forest before they felt it was safe to stop. They stood at the base of a steep cliff.

  Their chests heaved to suck in air. Mintikwa’s lungs burned. He bent over, trying to catch his breath.

  “Did we shake them?”

  “I think so.”

  “I told you they’d be angry.”

  Mintikwa glanced about warily. The wrath of the women had driven them well inside the forest. The boys were far from the brambles that bordered their village and fields, and the trees towered like giants. The shadowy gaps between their huge trunks seemingly hushed the forest floor. Mintikwa thought of his vision seeking, and he realized that this would be his world for the next few days, alone in the depths of the wilderness.

  Suddenly he felt the need to tell someone about what he planned, if only to check himself, to make sure it wasn’t complete suicide to do what he was contemplating. He thought of Hare. He was pretty good at keeping secrets.

  “I’m going to Eddytown,” Mintikwa said flatly.

  “What did you say?”

  “You heard me,” Mintikwa said. “I’m going there on my vision quest. To go see the ancient town.”

  For a long time, Hare considered what Mintikwa was saying.

  Here it comes, Mintikwa thought, cursing himself silently for telling his secret. I should not have said a thing.

  “That’s brilliant,” Hare said finally, surprising Mintikwa. “Brilliant, but crazy too.”

  Mintikwa couldn’t help but laugh. His friend knew him too well.

  “But that’s a long way to walk,” Hare said.

  “I’m not walking,” Mintikwa said.

  “You’re not walking?”

  Mintikwa shook his head. “I’m taking the river,” he said.

  Hare considered. “Well, that does fit you pretty well,” he said, then he grew serious.

  “What is it?” Mintikwa asked.

  “Just thinking about the ancestors of your father.” Hare patted Mintikwa on the shoulder. “Perhaps you’ll find the place where your grandfather led us into the sixth world.”

  Mintikwa nodded, appreciating his friend’s sentiment, a rare emotion for Hare.

  “Or perhaps a bear will find you and chase you home,” he said.

  Hare laughed, and Mintikwa suddenly became aware of a hushed stillness over the woods. Hare’s laughter echoed among the cliffs. They were too loud, he realized.

  Mintikwa caught movement out of the corner of his eye. It was a subtle shift of a shadow from the cliff above where they stood. Several large trees were anchored in the hillside. He thought he saw someone disappear behind one of them.

  “Knowing you, you’d swim—”

  Mintikwa silenced Hare.

  “Did you see that?” he whispered.

  Hare peered in the direction of Mintikwa’s gaze.

  “Maybe,” Hare whispered. “I think I did see something move up there. Maybe the women.”

  Mintikwa shook his head. “There’s no way they could’ve gotten around us and up that hill.”

  The forest seemed hushed, oppressive, and suddenly darkened. The boys waited in silence. The shadows appeared to lengthen as they watched the woods. Nothing moved. Their apprehension grew with the darkness.

  “Soulless?” Hare whispered.

  “I don’t want to wait to find out,” Mintikwa said. “Let’s get back to the river.”

  They turned and began to walk back the way they came.

  Mintikwa heard a whisper. He stopped. “Did you hear that?” he asked.

  Hare glanced at Mintikwa. He looked at him curiously but then shook his head.

  What was going on? He risked a look back up the hill to the tree. It was farther away now, in an even greater degree of shadow. Mintikwa could’ve sworn he saw the profile of a figure peering around the back of the tree, but it was black and hard to say for sure. It narrowed subtly as if slowly melting in with the tree. He didn’t mention what he saw to Hare. He only wanted to get out of there. One last thought crossed his mind. Had the phantom figure heard what he told Hare about going to Eddytown? Mintikwa shuddered at the thought. Hare had also spoken of Mintikwa’s ancestors. This was something Mintikwa never mentioned lightly, especially in unknown company. This worried him even more.

  They made their way back toward the field and found the women back at work. The boys stayed along the edge of the woods, avoiding the farmers until they saw the river again.

  Mintikwa suddenly thought of their reason for coming, the strange artifacts buried in the new fields.

  “Wait,” he said.

  Hare stopped and turned to his friend.

  “What about the new fields?” Mintikwa asked.

  Hare looked unsure. He glanced back the way they had come. Mintikwa thought he saw a hint of fear in his friend’s eyes. Hare shook his head.

  “Maybe another day,” Mintikwa said, feeling as equally spooked as his friend.

  They swam across the river, retrieved their canoe, and then headed back home.

  Mintikwa awoke to the dim light of dawn filtering through the wall near his bunk. The large sheets of elm bark usually kept the wind, the rain, and sunlight out of their home, but a strip of the bark had pulled away from its seam, which let the early morning light shine into his eyes. His younger brother snored from a bunk beside him. Beyond his brother, his mother slept peaceably. They shared the longhouse with ano
ther family of his mother’s clan, who also slept soundly, but across the open aisle. He sat up in his bunk and waited for the dreariness to leave his head. A day of fasting and then a day in the sweat lodge stood between Mintikwa and the beginning of his vision seeking.

  The fire had died down in the night. The air in the house was cool, despite it being the beginning of summer. Mintikwa rubbed his arms for warmth and to soothe his aching muscles.

  He leaped out of his bunk, landed on the mat floor, and then crept to the fire pit at the center of their house. He knelt and blew at the grey embers. The ashes danced away, and the embers glowed red again. Mintikwa lay a couple of pieces of wood over the revived embers and stoked the fire. Soon flames were leaping up around the sticks. They popped and crackled.

  Someone stirred in their bunk.

  “Mintikwa?” she called. It was his mother.