Mintikwa and the Underwater Panther

by JR Green

  “I’m here by the fire,” he whispered.

  His mother came down from her bed and joined Mintikwa.

  “Uncle Saul tells me you will be seeking your spirit totem,” she said.

  Mintikwa nodded.

  “Your uncle is very pleased,” she said. “And I’m happy for you. I will worry about you, but it is good that you will do this.”

  “What do you think it will be like?” he asked.

  “Terrifying,” she admitted, rubbing her shoulders briskly.

  Mintikwa moaned. “I expected something encouraging from you,” he said, smiling.

  She touched his cheek and then pulled his head to her and squeezed him just a little too tightly. She kissed the top of his head and then let him go.

  “More than ever before, you need the truth,” she said. “Much to my dismay, vision seeking is meant to pitch you out of your mother’s house!”

  “What advice do you have for me, mother?” Mintikwa asked.

  She leaned in.

  “You will want to give in,” she said. “You’ll begin to see anything as a sign of your totem. Just make sure you really feel it. Look in your heart. And if there is a question there, then you are not done. Just move on. Know this, despite your doubts, your manitou will come. When he does, you will know for sure.”

  Mintikwa wasn’t exactly sure what his mother meant. He really had no idea what his totem might be. Easily a couple dozen animals whirled around in his head. She must have sensed his confusion.

  “What I mean is don’t take the first animal that scurries in front of you,” she said.

  Mintikwa nodded in agreement. “How do you know so much about seeking vision?”

  “Your father and grandfather spoke of it,” she said.

  “I wish they were here,” Mintikwa said. “Or at least that I had been old enough so that they could tell me some of what they knew.”

  “In the absence of your father, my brother has done well by you,” she said.

  “Yes, of course,” Mintikwa said. “If I didn’t have Uncle Saul, I don’t know what I would’ve done.”

  “Even still,” Mother said. “I know you’ve felt like an outsider where the council is concerned. Your father’s family was once very influential. And for a good reason. They were a wise bunch. With the loss of your father and grandfather, the people have suffered as you, and I have suffered,” his mother said. “This could be your chance to regain the secret knowledge. And perhaps a place at the council.”

  “Do you really think the manitou can do that?”

  His scalp tingled. Though his mother had never spoken directly of the shift in power since their death, Mintikwa had felt it. His father and grandfather died in a Soulless raid when he was very young, and so they never introduced him at council. But why had the leaders not called upon him? As he grew older, Mintikwa sensed the lack of trust and respect, virtues that he hoped he was living by. As a direct ancestor of Great-horned Owl, he felt it would be an honor to serve on the council. Instead, he was a simple fisher. Nothing more. Mintikwa loved being on the river, and he was wary of going down the path toward paranoia, but something was truly amiss. Thoughts of living up to this ancestral precedence nagged at him, and so he did have a desire to fulfill the tradition of his fathers before him who had a place at the council. It was a paternal line rather than the familial lines which defined an individual’s sense of who they were. He belonged to his mother’s clan, but the Great-horned Owl line was special too.

  Mintikwa felt a twinge of guilt. He realized that, rather than some sort of justice for his paternal line or a solution to the people’s troubles, it was really his own burning curiosity about Eddytown that motivated him. He suddenly felt a need to help someone besides himself. He thought of the game disappearing from the forest and the fish that had become so scarce.

  “Is there anything I should ask of the manitou?” Mintikwa asked.

  “Questions for the manitou should come from your heart,” she said. “Not from what someone else thinks.”

  “I mean, is there something they could do for our people?” Mintikwa pressed.

  She put a hand to her heart and smiled. “It is a good question. Ask them as you burn the sage, with your dancing, your singing, and your prayers,” she said. “I’m sure they will answer you.”

  Saul was a shaman, a role he acquired late in his life, mostly out of necessity. The people around him needed a shaman, rather than it being an inner calling. Saul had always known a little about such matters, so he filled the role as best he could. Before long, though, the people were seeking him out in earnest. It was strange. He had already been a warrior. And so tending to the spirits was like living an extra life on top of the one he already had. Saul had once been a powerful fighter and was still highly revered by many. He fought against the Soulless, alongside Mintikwa’s father and grandfather, and uncle. That ended many years ago when Mintikwa was a small boy. There was a terrible battle between the People and the Soulless. Many lost their lives. Tragically, the men of Mintikwa’s paternal line were among the dead. Saul, older brother to Mintikwa’s mother, was one of only a few survivors. That battle marked the end of that war, although there was no compromise or truce reached. There were many theories as to why the fighting stopped, but likely the Soulless were as traumatized as the People, so both sides simply ceased their raiding.

  That battle changed Saul. He never stopped grieving for the loss of so many loved ones. Years ago, when he was still a young man, rather than fight again, Saul became a domestic. Sometimes when old men’s careers were behind them, they turned to chores done around the house. Mostly women and children gathered from the forests and tended the fields, but occasionally circumstances were such that a man became a gatherer and farmer and did other tasks usually done by women. Sometimes even young men felt a calling to become a domestic. It could also carry negative connotations on occasion when men were made into one due to some wrong they committed against the people. If a man became a domestic, it wasn’t necessarily bad, but it could be. Saul did so because he gave up on life. He was ready for something new.

  At the time, Saul thought perhaps he had lived out his usefulness as a warrior, so he consigned himself to simple work in his grief. But then one day he found that he liked to fish. In fact, he got really good at it, and soon he was out on the river from sunup to sundown. Later still, after becoming reacquainted with the manitou, he became shaman for the people and so was made anew by purpose.

  Mintikwa was a small boy when his father was killed by Soulless. As Mintikwa grew older, his uncle took him under his wing.

  The dawn grew brighter, and the dark sky gave way to the blue of a new day. Mintikwa emerged from his home and made his way to the edge of town where they would meet to build the sweat lodge. As he walked, the question nagged at him about who was on the hillside above the cliffs spying on Mintikwa and his friend. And did they overhear about who he was and where he was going? For all Mintikwa knew, they might be at the ceremony. If it wasn’t one of us, then who? Soulless? This was an even scarier thought.

  Uncle Saul explained that Mintikwa must be cleansed for the sacred journey through the forest. He would be seeking assistance from the manitou. One must have a pure heart to hear them and to gain their sympathies. The sweat lodge would do the trick, the physical effects of the heat would coax negative energies from his body, and the fasting and accompanying prayers might just enlist their aid.

  Two others, a man and a woman, joined in the ceremony. The ceremony took place less often now, and there were few among the people who knew the particulars of what to do at the sweat lodge, but Saul knew who they were and invited them to Mintikwa’s ceremony. Mintikwa didn’t know much about them beyond their names. They lived in another part of town. They were Cattail and New Leaf. The sweat lodge ceremony was for purification, not just for vision seeking.

  They built the lodge from tall saplings fastened together with strips of hide. They dug holes in a circle around
the pit for the base of the structure. They gathered stones to heat the small space. At the center, they dug a pit, which would be used to hold the heated rocks.

  Mintikwa took the sapling and set its end on the ground. As his uncle instructed, he shifted it into one of the holes. Then he reached high and took hold of the tip. He stepped backward and, at the same time, pulled down on the little tree and walked to the other side of the structure. It arched over the pit in the center.

  “Good,” his uncle said, nodding. “Now set it in the ground on the other side.”

  Mintikwa did as he was told. The others joined in. They did this with the other saplings and bound the trees together. When they were done, all the saplings together formed a lattice above the pit.

  His uncle called for the hides to be brought in. Everyone helped carry them. Each of them took one and laid it over the structure. Soon it was covered. He separated the skins on the eastern side of the lodge. This became the door, which faced east, toward the Dawn-land.

  They dug another pit a few paces away from the entrance. Uncle Saul said the fire would be built there. Between the fire pit and the opening, he set a post. At its base, he placed the skull of a deer. He lay sage and tobacco around the post.

  “What is this for?” Mintikwa asked about the post.

  “That should keep you from stumbling into the fire when you emerge later.” his uncle said, chuckling.

  One of the lodge fellows was adjusting the hides, making sure the whole thing was covered. Mintikwa peered inside. It was now very dark within.

  The firekeeper arrived. He greeted everyone and wished them a proper cleansing of the soul. He gathered firewood and began stacking it up next to the pit. Uncle Saul and the fire keeper carried the stones and set them carefully in the hole. He called them the Stone People. The lodge fellows paused and welcomed them to their sacred space.

  Saul told everyone to gather outside the entrance. He stood at the door with the fire keeper.

  “Are you ready to begin?” he asked.

  Mintikwa nodded, as did the others. They were ready. The firekeeper lit the stack of wood and then coaxed it into a nice blaze. Uncle Saul took out a bundle of cedar shavings and asked the fire keeper to light them. Soon the bundle was smoking.

  “Come,” his uncle said, waving them forward.

  Cattail went first. He stood before Saul. He moved the bundle of cedar just over Cattail’s body, letting the smoke steep his skin. He said a prayer and asked him to go in. Cattail thanked him and then ducked into the lodge. New Leaf followed with Uncle Saul performing the same smudging and prayer. Just before dipping into the lodge, she turned to Mintikwa to gauge how he was doing. Mintikwa smiled, indicating that he was ready. Saul smudged Mintikwa with the cedar smoke.

  The scent livened his senses.

  “Go in like this,” he said to Mintikwa, making a circular motion with his hand, showing which side of the interior to follow.

  “May you gain the courage to let go of all that does not serve you,” his uncle said as Mintikwa ducked into the lodge.

  Mintikwa climbed inside and immediately felt as if he had entered a realm adjacent to the one he was used to, one of stillness and space, one conducive to any amount of contemplations a person might wish for. He felt like he had entered the earth.

  They sat down together. The inner space was dim, but some light did filter in from the flap at the door, which was held slightly open. Soon, Mintikwa expected it would be pitch black after everyone was in and the flap closed. The ceremony came in cycles. This first sweat was all about the darkness after the sun set in the west. It represented the place that the people occupied as mortals in the dark.

  Saul entered the room.

  “Is everyone comfortable?” he asked.

  They all nodded.

  He called to the doorkeeper to close the flap. A moment later, the space plunged into darkness.

  “You may leave at any time. If the heat gets to be too much for you, just give the signal, and I will help you out,” His uncle said. “Now, let’s sit in silence and please reflect on what your heart says about why you are here.”

  Everyone grew still. It was so quiet that Mintikwa could hear the crackling of the fire outside on the other side of the post.

  A short while later, he called for the flap to be opened. Light shone in again. The firekeeper ambled in with the first set of stones, cradled in an animal skin soaked with water to keep it from burning up. The stones were red hot. He rushed in with them and knelt before the pit in the center of the lodge. He lifted the skin so that the rocks tumbled into the pit.

  The firekeeper went back for another load of rocks. Soon he was back in and setting the load into the pit.

  When he finished, he closed the flap. Darkness fell over them again. Now there was only a bit of light, the red glow of the stones at the center of the lodge.

  A drum began to beat steadily. It had a unique quality. Mintikwa soon realized that it was a water drum, one of his favorite instruments, though he rarely heard it.

  The water in the drum jostled with each strike of the drumstick. A soft and subtle sound rose, like a chorus of baby birds. Their voices quickly synchronized until only one singer called out. Though Mintikwa knew it came from the drum, somehow it sounded as if the voice sang from far away beyond the wall of the sweat lodge. Suddenly, the drummer began beating his instrument harder and faster. Each new beat brought the singer seemingly closer to the lodge fellows. In the red glowing chamber, Mintikwa imagined a gathering of forest manitou dancing to the watery rhythm.

  His uncle stood, and Mintikwa’s vision of singer and dancers disappeared like vapor.

  “We call on you, spirits of the land of the setting sun.” His uncle faced the west. “We sing prayers to you, and the Stone People glow red for you so that the blackness where you dwell may have a bit of light.”

  Saul angled slightly in the warming space to face a new direction.

  “Spirits to the north, light us up with courage. Help us to be honest and clean of body and spirit.”

  He turned again.

  “Spirits of the Dawn-land, we honor your wisdom. Help us to keep an open heart to reflect it in our own lives.”

  Uncle Saul turned again and faced the last direction.

  “Spirits of the south, draw upon all the powers of the others so that we may heal our wounds and move into prosperity.”

  He poured water over the fire. It hissed and steamed. Soon the steam and the heat reached Mintikwa’s arms and legs.

  His uncle returned to his own place beside Mintikwa. He stood for a moment.

  “Now that I’ve sealed the circle, we return to the west and settle into the darkness there. This will be a good time to reflect on your own mortality.”

  Saul pressed his palms together and touched them just below his lips. He whispered a short prayer to himself, bowed, and sat down.

  The lodge fellows settled into quiet contemplation, and the chamber grew hotter with each passing moment.

  It wasn’t long before Mintikwa’s belly grumbled. Soon it felt like it would sink in on itself. The night before, Mintikwa broke his fast and ate dried fish and pawpaw fruit and drank water. Preferably the seeker took in nothing, but if he absolutely had to eat, these were permitted. They were thought to be conducive to visions anyway. He knew they would soon be sweated out of him. He hadn’t eaten anything at breakfast, so by mid-morning, he felt like lying down.

  He had never fasted before. Already, he decided he wasn’t very good at it.

  Mintikwa spent the entire day in the sacred space with the others, singing at times, praying at others, and sometimes just sitting in quiet meditation. Just before noon, Uncle Saul called for an end to the first round. When Mintikwa emerged, he was blind and cold, despite the summer sun beating down on him. He stumbled around, squinting and gripping his own shoulders. He looked down at the deer skull and the post and now understood the reason for them. Without them, he might indeed have stumbled into the fir
e.

  Eventually, he recovered his senses. All the lodge fellows walked around, stretching their arms and legs, and enjoying the afternoon light. They gathered together at the base of a maple tree and chatted about the goings-on in the town.

  Cattail and New Leaf sat with Mintikwa. Uncle Saul had told them that he was preparing to seek a vision.

  “Be careful in the forests,” Cattail said. “Danger lurks there.”

  Mintikwa wasn’t surprised to hear this. He knew he would be especially susceptible to predators.

  “Cougar?” Mintikwa asked.

  “Indeed, you should always keep an eye out for Cougar,” he said. “But what I mean is that the forests are especially bewitched these days.”

  “How so?”

  “People are coming out of the woods with strange stories.”

  “Don’t scare the boy unnecessarily,” New Leaf said.

  “I’m merely giving him a proper warning,” Cattail said.

  If Cattail only knew what Mintikwa was really planning for his vision seeking, a journey into lands no one had seen since the last age, then he might offer him more than a warning.

  Mintikwa thought of their old enemy. If they happened to stumble upon him, they would take advantage of his weakened state.

  “Do you mean Soulless?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Cattail said. “Yawning, Bear saw one of them a couple of days ago. I think you were upriver when it happened. Everyone in town was talking about it.”

  Mintikwa tried to think of the last time anyone encountered Soulless.

  “Yawning Bear told me what happened. He was gathering roots near the river. When he looked up, there was the Dark One within whispering distance. The grin on his face showed what thoughts he shared with Yawning Bear. They both knew he could have easily killed him. But then the Soulless bolted and just went running through the woods. They are a strange race in any case, but the way this one behaved, Yawning Bear wondered if he had lost his mind.”