Mintikwa and the Underwater Panther

by JR Green

Mintikwa made a face. “Month-old dried meat?” Mintikwa said, looking around. “I have a feeling these woods are ripe for foraging.”

  Willow glanced about, seemingly intrigued by Mintikwa’s suggestion. “Alright,” she said, standing up. “I’ll see if I can find something.”

  “I’ll help,” Mintikwa offered.

  They found the mushrooms under the boughs of a red oak tree.

  “You can eat these,” she said excitedly.

  He shook his head. “Don’t tempt me,” he said. “I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can,” she insisted. “They’ll help you with your vision seeking.”

  She said a quick prayer before gathering them.

  They passed a small creek and followed it to a cliff where it trickled onto a smooth stone and then formed a deep pool of clear water. Willow held the mushrooms under the flowing water to cleanse them.

  They brought them back to camp. She broke the mushrooms into sections and shook away the insects.

  “Let’s sing your vision-seeking songs,” Willow said.

  They kept their melodic voices low as they sang the songs, at a level just below that of the singing insects around them.

  “You don’t think this breaks my fast?”

  “No,” Willow said. “I don’t think so. They are for seeking a vision, after all.”

  Mintikwa took one and popped it into his mouth. It tasted like a chestnut. It was delicious, and Mintikwa felt guilty, so he tried not to think of it as food but rather something akin to burning an offering. He ate three of the mushrooms and handed the rest to Willow.

  Willow took the mushrooms. She picked three just as Mintikwa had done and consumed them.

  Mintikwa began to feel lightheaded, but unlike the feel of fasting, this was pleasant. He leaned back, lay flat against the earth, and watched the canopy sway in the remnants of the fading light. He watched as dusk turned to night.

  “I want to be alone with you,” Willow said, but her voice had an ethereal quality that Mintikwa had never heard before.

  Mintikwa looked around. “We are alone,” he said, confused. “Aren’t we?”

  He turned to Willow, and looking at her, he realized she hadn’t actually spoken the words. She looked curiously at him.

  “What did you say?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” he said, giggling. He lay back down to watch the leaves again. The light faded further.

  “I mean, really alone,” Willow said, again with a strange quality to her voice.

  He sat up. “Did you say something?”

  “Yes,” she said, casting a glance about. “It doesn’t really feel like we’re alone out here on the water.”

  She was speaking out loud now, but Mintikwa still felt confused. “What are you talking about, Willow?” he said. “We’re not on the water anymore. We’re in the woods. Remember? Can’t you see?” He looked around as if to make sure.

  “We’re basically out in the open,” she insisted, though her voice was calm and soothing.

  Mintikwa felt awkward.

  Suddenly, Willow jumped up. She sprinted away from camp. She turned briefly at its edge. Smiling, she said, “Catch me.” And then she disappeared into the trees.

  “Hey,” Mintikwa said, propping himself up.

  He peered into the woods. She was gone.

  He scrambled to his feet and took off after her.

  “You remember I’m half starved?” he called out.

  Mintikwa sprinted through the woods. For a few nervous moments, he was alone, but then he began to catch glimpses of her. She was still racing through the forest just out of reach, teasing him with a coaxing smile, a giggle, a trailing foot, or a waving hand, as she disappeared again and again into the duskiness. He ran on like the moon forever chasing the evening star.

  The sound of trickling water marked the end of their pursuit. Mintikwa jumped over the creek they found earlier. He stopped when he saw the cliff. It was the waterfall where they cleaned the mushrooms. By the time he reached her, she had shed her clothes and was now wading into the pool beneath the cliff. Turning, she saw him, smiled, and beckoned.

  “It’s good,” she said. “We can be alone here.”

  Mintikwa rested a moment, looking about, and then he stepped into the water. It was cold against his feet, cooler than the river.

  “See,” Willow said. “Come closer.”

  Mintikwa eased into the water. He moved toward Willow.

  The wind tossed the canopy about, repeatedly teasing apart the leaves and spreading the boughs, only to close them again. The night sky caught only glimpses of the pooling spring and its occupants, but the heavens seemed content with the shifting view.

  Laughing, Mintikwa and Willow sloshed through the clear water. They drew close, shivering together. Her shoulders glistened in the subtle light of the sky. Goosebumps spread over her body. They met suddenly, pressing skin against wet skin. A moment later, their bodies warmed, and they ceased trembling. Willow smiled contentedly, her teeth gleaming. She threaded her fingers through his. Her eyes danced over his features and then met his. Her pupils widened and grew dark.

  “I really like you, Mintikwa,” she said, her voice mingling with the wind in the leaves.

  “I really like you too,” he said.

  “It feels right that we should be together,” she said.

  A screech owl trilled softly from the nook of a nearby tree, a soft whinny meant to draw in her mate.

  Suddenly, they were kissing fiercely. But it wasn’t enough. Mintikwa couldn’t get close enough to her. He felt like he wanted to climb inside of her. She slid her arms under his, around his back, and over his shoulders. Kissing him firmly again, she leaped out of the water, wrapping her legs around him at his waist.

  “Mintikwa?” she said desperately between breaths. “What’s happening?”

  “I have no idea,” he said, trembling and with a bit of panic in his voice. “But I think it’s good. Really good.”

  The following day, they carried the boat back to the river. The sunlight was already peeking through the trees, brightening the water. Just before stepping into the open, Willow dropped her end of the canoe.

  “What’s wrong?” Mintikwa asked, dropping his end.

  “Nothing,” she said, but there was a desperate look in her eyes. She walked along the length of the canoe and swept up to Mintikwa, and kissed him without hesitation. It was a long kiss, which came at him like waves lapping against the riverbank. “I just got a strange feeling,” she said as she turned toward the open river.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She shook her head. “I got a feeling like we’d never be able to do this again,” she said. “It’s nothing.” She kissed him again and then walked back to the tip of the canoe. They picked up the boat and carried it down to the water. Willow climbed into the bow. Mintikwa leaned in, gave it a push, and then jumped inside. They made their way back to the middle of the river and headed upstream.

  The riverbank rose high off the water and formed a steep cliff. The forest grew thickly at the top. Mintikwa spied something protruding from the woods. At first, he thought it was part of the landscape, but it bobbed independently of the brush around it as if it responded on its own to some current of air. Mintikwa lifted his oar and let the boat drift. The current quickly brought them to a standstill.

  Willow looked toward what had Mintikwa’s attention.

  “That’s weird,” she whispered.

  “Shall we check it out?” Mintikwa asked.

  “I’m up for it,” Willow said.

  Soon they were scrambling up the steep embankment for the top. They chose a spot a few paces upriver so that they wouldn’t come out right under it but instead could approach it on even ground. Mintikwa fell about halfway up, landing on his back. It knocked the wind out of him, but he quickly recovered and started climbing again. Finally, they reached the top near the edge of the forest. They could see the strange bobbing as soon as they looked in that direction. Something
about it made Mintikwa’s scalp tingle. As they approached, it seemed more and more like a branch, save the strange motion. Mintikwa was within a few paces. Abruptly, it stopped moving. Now it definitely looked like the branch of a tree.

  “I don’t like this,” Willow said.

  Mintikwa approached and scrutinized it. He didn’t recognize the species.

  “Do you know this tree?” Mintikwa asked.

  Willow shook her head, eyeing the dark woods for trouble.

  Now he could see that the limb belonged to a tree that had fallen. It lay on the ground. The branch that had been bobbing was its tip. It stretched into the dimness of the forest. Mintikwa peered in but could not make out where it stopped. If he stepped under the canopy, his eyes might adjust, and then he could ascertain what kind of tree it was.

  He slipped inside.

  “Mintikwa,” Willow whispered. “Why are you going in there? I think we should get back to the boat.”

  He waved her to follow without turning around. “Let’s go,” he said.

  Inside, away from the sun, the air cooled abruptly. They were at the base of a small cliff. The rock was wet and black. A little waterfall trickled down from above. Once inside, his eyes adjusted, and Mintikwa could see farther. He looked down at the forest floor. From the texture of the bark, he wondered if it was some kind of oak. Out on the river, the tip was as narrow as his finger, but now it was slightly bigger than his waist. But how tall was it? He stopped and followed the tree with his eyes. It disappeared around the rocks.

  “What is it?” Willow asked, standing next to Mintikwa now.

  “I thought it was a tree,” Mintikwa said. “But now I wonder if it’s some kind of root system. See how it’s hugging the ground.”

  “Please. Let’s go back to the river.”

  Mintikwa shook his head. “I have to see what this is,” he said and began walking toward the cliff.

  It was looking more and more like a vine. It had grown bigger around but more elongated, its bulky weight causing it to flatten against the earth. Mintikwa imagined it must be attached to some enormous tree up ahead. He climbed around the rocks and reached for the top of the cliff. Expecting to see its source, he was disappointed. The vine snaked along the ridge parallel with the river and then followed a hill back to where they started. Mintikwa couldn’t believe it. He had never seen anything like it. His fascination was growing by leaps and bounds. He trotted down the hill.

  “Go on then,” Willow scolded, “I’m going back. You’re crazy.”

  “Hey!” Mintikwa said, turning only to find Willow halfway down the rocks. “Why are you so spooked?”

  “See you at the boat,” she said.

  Mintikwa was perplexed by Willow’s fear, but he would have to question her about it after investigating this strange vine. He walked along the hill as it sloped down back to the riverbank, downstream from their canoe. It had grown enormous. Sunlight came twinkling through the leaves as he approached the edge of the forest. After being in the dimness under the canopy, the sunlight was blinding. It filled his eyes with stardust.

  Just steps away from the open air of the riverbank, an airy sound assaulted Mintikwa. It was so sudden and pervasive, and he was so startled by it that he fell to the ground.

  A great rack of antlers scattered the sunlight as it moved across Mintikwa’s field of vision. It lifted up toward the treetops. The latticework of horns converged onto a massive head. The sound issued from the head. Soon it shifted into hissing.

  Mintikwa knew immediately what was rising before him. Terror shot through him, and before he could stop himself, he screamed out loud. He almost made water. It was Great-Horned Serpent towering over him, his giant head decorated with a massive rack of horns, like that of a deer. It was true. His body was as thick as a tree, as in the stories, his length stretched behind him forever through the forest. But not endlessly, after all! The thought in Mintikwa’s head, despite the horror before him, was that he had just seen its end. That bobbing limb above the river was the end of the Serpent’s tail. Something occurred to Mintikwa then. The tail had been a lure, meant to lead him here. And it had worked.

  Mintikwa rolled away and landed on his feet. He crouched and slowly drew his knife. Then he remembered what happened to people who looked into the Serpent’s eyes. Immediately, he averted his. From his periphery, Mintikwa saw something shining from its head. Then he remembered the story, which told of a pure white stone set between its eyes. This is what he saw.

  The snake’s body convulsed. It seemed to have transformed. Mintikwa could no longer mistake it for a plant because of the way it moved. It undulated, and a section of it came out of the woods, allowing its head to rise even higher. Mintikwa backed up toward the edge of the heightened riverbank. He peered over its edge. He saw his canoe upstream, but no sign of Willow yet. She had not come out of the trees.

  He could jump for it, but he would risk breaking his leg. Mintikwa turned back toward the Serpent.

  “Mintikwa,” the Serpent hissed. “Why have you crossed the boundary? Why have you entered the lands that your ancestors willingly abandoned so long ago?”

  Mintikwa fought against his fear of speaking to a god. He finally won out, only because it was such a direct question, and he thought he’d better answer it. Even still, he barely got the words out. “I am only seeking a vision,” Mintikwa said. “To find my totem and to see if there are game and fish here for my people.”

  “I think you want more than a vision. You serve your own desire. You are following your curious nose into lands where it does not belong.”

  “But these lands belong to the people,” Mintikwa said defensively and automatically. “Our stories tell us that eventually, we are to heal all the lands of the trauma of the end of the fifth world.”

  “The manitou of the north hate all humans for just that reason, even your tribe.”

  “Why would manitou hate us?”

  “Because you are human.”

  “The lands to the north were always meant to be resettled,” Mintikwa said. “Great-horned Owl said as much.”

  The Serpent hissed angrily at the mention of the people’s hero.

  “The horned Mintikwa?” he questioned, in a tone demeaning their hero. The Serpent reared up. “I am the vision you seek. My warning is your sign. Soon you will be visited by an animal. Take it as your totem spirit and go home, Mintikwa. And tell your people not to pass the border.”

  The Serpent shifted toward him—more of its body issued from the forest, beginning to fill the ledge. The swelling body pressed up against him. He had seen the way snakes dispose of their prey. The horror of all this serpent flesh sent ice up and down his spine. Suddenly the serpent engulfed him. Mintikwa pushed back, his hands fell over the snakeskin. It was cold. Mintikwa fell to the ground. In desperation, he looked to the sky. Daylight still illuminated the dome with brilliant blue, but for a moment, it winked to darkness. Suddenly the firmament appeared as if it were night. Stars filled the sky! Blackness doused out the blue, but then it reappeared. It went out again. The sky shifted like this repeatedly, and the night sky was like clouds passing overhead during a storm. Had the Serpent somehow turned day to night and night to day in a matter of moments? It seemed so.

  The snake pressed against his face. Mintikwa noticed that the skin wasn’t exactly like a real snake or entirely serpentine, but rather an amalgam of forest and serpent. Mintikwa smelled the earth. He saw how he had been fooled into thinking it was a tree, then a root, and then a vine, but now something new appeared in the skin. Tiny points of light flickered to life, like starlight reflected off the surface of a pond. It was mesmerizing. A spell, Mintikwa realized. He struggled to free himself of it. There was no more time to observe this mystery. Great-horned Serpent squeezed up against him. The god was going to suffocate him. With all his might, Mintikwa pushed with his legs. It was just enough to free himself from the swelling serpent flesh. Then he leaped backward off the high riverbank and slammed into the
sand below, knocking the wind out of him.

  Mintikwa fell unconscious.

  “Mintikwa?” he heard Willow calling frantically. “Are you okay?”

  He opened his eyes, and the sky burst into pieces. He was staring straight up, and there was Willow above him. He looked across the river, and his sight settled down.

  “Oh, thank Thunderbird, you woke up,” she said.

  “What happened? Where am I?” he asked.

  “You don’t remember?” she asked.

  Mintikwa shook his head.

  “You were following that vine through the woods.”

  Mintikwa suddenly remembered what had just happened.

  “Great-horned Serpent!”

  Mintikwa struggled to get up.

  “What did you say?” Willow asked.

  “Where is he?” Mintikwa asked.

  “What are you talking about?” Willow asked. “You fell out of the woods and off that ledge.” Willow pointed above his head.

  “Where is that snake?”

  “You mean Underwater Serpent?”

  “No.”

  “You saw Great-horned Serpent?” Willow asked, disbelief on her face, falling back onto the beach in front of him.

  Mintikwa looked up at the riverbank where he fell. It was empty. He tried to sit up but immediately felt dizzy. He rubbed his temple.

  “I think you hit your head pretty hard,” Willow said.

  “I guess I did.”

  The sun shone from the center of the sky. It bore down on Mintikwa’s head, which still hurt from the fall. He could barely see straight. His belly felt like it would cave in on itself. Mintikwa couldn’t eat. He was always thirsty, so he drank until water seemed it would come out of his ears. This tricked his stomach only so long. It cramped painfully, and his hunger always returned.

  Mintikwa grew quick to anger. He felt it rush over him at the slightest annoyance. But the last thing he wanted to do was lash out at Willow, so he pushed it down as deep as he could.