The Porcupine Year Page 8

  Outside, even the dogs were still. At last, from the corner, Quill’s choked voice emerged.

  “My medicine animal would save our lives. My family, I will get him for you. As my strength is gone, I have asked him for help.”

  Omakayas closed her eyes in relief. Just a bit of meat, a tiny morsel, and she was sure that she would be strong enough to set more snares.

  “Gaawiin,” snarled Old Tallow from her nest in the very corner. “He tried to save us, that porcupine! I will never forget how he quilled LaPautre! That brave little creature took our only revenge. He is medicine for us all!”

  Slowly, she hoisted her body into a sitting position. Then, crouching, she grinned at them all. Her teeth were long and yellow in the light from the door, her face was shrunk as death. Her skin blazed, white as a skull. There was a mad light in her eyes that frightened Omakayas, but amazed her, too. She had the same look as her bear spirit. Crawling forward, Omakayas tried to stop Old Tallow from going out, but she fell in a faint. She could see her own hand, the fingers like whittled sticks. How could the old woman be capable of anything when even their strongest young men could not move?

  “My relatives, nindinawemaganidok,” Omakayas heard her beloved protector say, “it is time for Old Tallow to hunt the bear!”

  There was a flash of light as she crawled out the door and dropped the bark back in place. Her dogs howled with savage need as Old Tallow called them to her aid. Then darkness, stillness, a swoon of hunger and pain. She was gone.

  TO THE DEATH

  Hours passed and Old Tallow did not return. Omakayas felt the life leaving her body, though she struggled to rise. She remembered her dream of the bear woman and knew that in facing the spirit of the bear Old Tallow was in great peril. Everybody wanted to go after Old Tallow, but one by one, they tried to move, and could not. Bizheens lay quiet, and Yellow Kettle gave him her other makizin to chew. Snow to sip. Nokomis had nothing for them, again, but tea. At last, after drinking the balsam tea, Fishtail spoke to Quill, gasping for breath. The hand he raised was skeletal. He touched Quill’s skinny arm.

  “Let us die well, little brother. We must find our grandmother. I have two bullets left. Let us go out and slay a bear! And a moose!”

  “I am with you,” said Quill.

  Painfully, slowly, the two dragged themselves onto their hands and knees, and then they stumbled out the door. They wrapped skins around their shoulders and set off in the tracks of Old Tallow, weaving slightly, praying for strength. Omakayas now rose. Somehow she found the will to follow them. It seemed to her a great surprise that her feet could move beneath her. All she knew was that she must find Old Tallow. When she was a tiny girl, the old woman had saved her and brought her to Yellow Kettle so that she could live. Omakayas could not abandon the old woman who had rescued her as a baby, and who had loved her ever since. Even if it meant that she herself fell dead in the snow, Omakayas was determined to find Old Tallow.

  Each step was agony. Omakayas staggered after the hunters, who had found Old Tallow’s trail. After a while, she could see, with amazement, that instead of weakening, the steps of Old Tallow had gained strength. The old woman had taken great strides. She had leaped rocks, outpaced her dogs. She must have been carried by the sight of the bear, thought Omakayas. Or perhaps by the bear itself. She could see, here and there, a giant track of the creature that Old Tallow was intent upon slaying.

  The wind vibrated in the trees with a dismal growl. Omakayas knew it was the spirit of the wiindigoo and she found the strength to growl back. She asked the bear woman to help find Old Tallow, and so spare the old woman, although she had killed so many of her kind.

  But first Omakayas came upon her brother. He was curled in the snow, too weak to move.

  “Go on, go on, my sister!” His voice was thin.

  She came upon one of Old Tallow’s dogs, stone dead and frozen. It had dropped from weakness. Then another dog, bloody, with Fishtail dragging it slowly behind him.

  Omakayas knew that Fishtail was going to bring the dog back to eat.

  “No,” she said, “come with me. We must find our grandmother.”

  “Yes,” said Fishtail. “You are right, little one.”

  He dropped the dog’s carcass and tried to follow Omakayas, who now moved with a strength that was not her own. She saw that her feet were taking step after step. The wind had ceased to cut her. She felt light now and warm. She did not notice when Fishtail dropped behind her, stumbled in the snow, and fell. She was following the tracks of the old woman she so loved. And from their swift sureness, she could tell that Old Tallow was closing in on the bear.

  And there it was.

  Around the corner, in a clearing red with blood, Omakayas saw a sight that would remain with her all of her life.

  She blinked, then rubbed her eyes. Old Tallow and the bear were standing in the clearing together. They were clenched, upright, in an unbelievable embrace.

  Omakayas put her arms out and stumbled toward them in joy, crying out.

  “Tallow! Tallow! My mother! My grandmother!”

  She was sobbing with relief, then sobbing with a dawning realization. The huge bear’s face was caught in a snarl, its chest pierced by Old Tallow’s spear. Old Tallow’s dead eyes stared into the eyes of the dead bear. She was caught by its tremendous claws, which had raked into her neck. They had died together, upright, frozen in their struggle.

  Omakayas found herself at Old Tallow’s feet, holding the edge of her tattered dress. Darkness took her. Later, much later, she heard voices. Felt herself carried. Tasted a heavy broth. But for a long time she knew nothing. She did not want to emerge. She wanted to stay in the darkness with the old woman she had loved.

  TWELVE

  AADIZOOKAANAG

  The family had been so close to starving that they had to feed themselves slowly. Yellow Kettle started them out with soup and broth, and gradually they began to eat the meat of the bear as well. Each day, as the food entered her body, Omakayas felt herself growing just a little stronger. But nothing could fill the absence that had opened around her heart. She wanted Old Tallow back, and every morning when she woke and realized that Old Tallow was gone, she turned her face to the wall in despair.

  Nokomis had realized that Omakayas would be the one most affected by the old woman’s death, and she had made her a spirit bundle to comfort her. She had taken a lock of Old Tallow’s iron gray hair and wrapped it in some of the bear’s fur. Omakayas would keep this bundle with her for a year and offer it food and water when she missed Old Tallow. It would help her with her sadness.

  Nokomis told stories to keep up their spirits. She told stories to teach them, to heal them. Nokomis could tell the stories of the old times, the aadizookaanag, because the frogs and snakes were frozen in the ground. So as the little family mourned and recovered, she told stories to help them gain their strength and laugh again.

  “Nookoo,” said Omakayas one night, “remember how you promised to tell the story of the girl who was a bear?”

  She had no tobacco, as that was stolen away, but she put a pinch of dried leaves in her grandmother’s hands to request the story.

  “Nimikwenimaa, my girl,” Nokomis said. “I will tell you the story now.”

  THE BEAR GIRL MAKOONS

  Mewinzha, mewinzha, a long time ago, there lived an old man and woman who were very poor. They had three daughters, whom they all loved just the same, even though the youngest was a bear. She had fur and long teeth. She really was a bear. They called her Makoons, Little Bear. She was a very good sister, but her older sisters were vain and selfish.

  One day, while their parents were out hunting, the two older sisters decided to run off to a faraway village and look for husbands. They tried to sneak away from their little bear sister because they were ashamed of her teeth and fur, but she heard them and followed them. When she caught up with them, they took her back and tied her to a bunch of tough-rooted rushes growing in the slough. But Makoons caught up with
them with the pack of rushes, mud, and roots all still roped and piled on her back.

  The sisters brought her home a second time, and this time they tied the little bear sister to a. great rock. Then they ran away, sure she wouldn’t follow them. But Makoons caught up with them again, and the big rock was still tied to her back. The third time the sisters brought her back, they tied her to the biggest pine tree they could find. This time they were sure that they could get away, and they ran and ran until they came to a wide and turbulent river. On the banks of the river, they had to stop. They stood there, defeated by the rapids. Suddenly, they heard their little bear sister crashing through the woods. Soon she appeared. On her back, she had the great pine tree.

  “My sisters,” said Makoons, “I am not following you because I want a husband. I just love you, and you can’t get along without me. I know things and I can do things.”

  Then the bear sister took the pine tree from her back and made a bridge with it across the dangerous river. All three got across.

  “Now,” said Makoons, “we must be very careful. A woman and her two daughters live near this place, and they practice bad medicine. They will invite us into their lodge and offer to feed us a stew. My sisters, do not eat until I do, for the stew may be made of snakes and toads.”

  Just as the bear sister said, a powerful-looking woman invited them to stay the night and to eat. Her daughters made them welcome, too. But the older sisters would not eat the first dish the bad woman set out, because Makoons said, politely, that this wasn’t the sort of food they ate. Then the bad medicine woman made a new dish of food, and when the sisters saw Makoons eat it, they did too.

  That night, the woman gave Makoons’s two older sisters handsome new silver earrings and told them to put them on. The sisters did, and the earrings were very beautiful, and everyone admired them. The bad medicine woman’s daughters had only crab claws for earrings, so Makoons knew that something was wrong. Then the woman said she would sleep with Makoons, and the other girls could sleep together. Once everyone was asleep, Makoons slipped up to the girls and changed their earrings around so that her own sisters wore the crab claws and the bad medicine woman’s daughters wore the silver ones.

  In the middle of the night, Makoons heard the woman get up. Then she heard her sharpening her knife, but she knew her sisters were safe.

  After the bad woman had come to bed and fallen asleep, Makoons rose and helped her sisters sneak away from that place. When the woman rose, she saw that she had been tricked. She had killed her own daughters that night, because they wore the silver earrings. Now she was so angry that she took the moon out of the sky, and locked it up in her lodge. But the bear girl was good at finding her way in the dark, and the girls kept going. When the sun came up, the woman was still furious. She grabbed the sun out of the sky and locked it up too. But the sisters continued on their journey. The crab claws at their ears helped by telling them, this way, that way, and they stayed on the path.

  At last they came to the village, which was by a lake. The crab claws jumped off their ears into the water, and became crabs again. Everything was dark. The leader of the village was trying to calm his people. One of the sisters said to him that her little sister, Makoons, could bring back the sun and moon. The chief was happy and offered her anything. Makoons said that she wanted a sack of salt, a sack of maple sugar, and his two sons to marry her two sisters. The chief said yes to everything she asked.

  Makoons took the salt and the maple sugar back to the bad woman’s lodge. As it happened, the woman was cooking stew. Makoons sneaked in and dumped the sack of salt in the stew. When the woman tasted it she cried out that her stew needed water, and ran out to fetch water. While she was gone, Makoons found the place where she’d locked up the moon, and released it. Then she hid herself.

  Soon the woman came back, fixed the stew, and began cooking wild rice. As her back was turned, Makoons dumped the maple sugar in the wild rice. When the bad medicine woman tasted it, she cried out that the rice was too sweet and she ran out to fetch water. While she was gone, Makoons found the place where the woman had locked up the sun, and she let the sun out. Then she ran back to her sisters in the village.

  Grateful for all that she had done, the chief forced his youngest son, the handsomest of all, to marry Makoons. He didn’t want to, but he obeyed. After they were married, he treated Makoons like an animal, ignored her, never sat with her or held her paw. He made her sleep on the floor while he slept in the bed. Finally, Makoons said to him in a sad voice:

  “It is clear that you don’t love me. I will set you free of my presence. Pretend we are having a quarrel, and then throw me in the fire. You will get rid of me that way.”

  So the youngest son did exactly that—he pretended to quarrel with Makoons, then picked her up and threw her in the fire. At once her two sisters, who had come to love Makoons, ran up to the youngest son. One began to beat him and tear his hair. The other tried to rescue

  Makoons, but the flames were too hot. All of a sudden, the flames died down and out of the glowing coals a beautiful young woman rose. It was Makoons.

  The youngest son fell on his knees and begged her to come back to him.

  “I found out your true nature,” said

  Makoons, “and I will not have you. I am going home to care for our old mother and father. They always loved me, even when I was a bear.”

  She had no power anymore. All her power had been given to her because she was ugly. But her old mother and father were very happy to see her and they lived together from then on in a peaceful way.

  “Miigwech, Nookoo. I liked that one,” Omakayas said softly. She thought of her bear spirit—maybe she had wanted Old Tallow to keep her company. Perhaps, now that Old Tallow was a spirit, she would also protect her. Omakayas held Old Tallow’s spirit bundle close.

  “I liked that story, too,” said Quill. “Except I would rather be married to a bear girl than a regular girl. Would I ever throw her in the fire? Not me! Not Quill! If I had to have a wife (not that I want one), I’d have a bear girl who could hunt for me and bring me food.”

  “That sounds like you,” said Angeline. “Always thinking of your stomach.”

  “Yes,” sighed Quill, eating a piece of cold meat that Mama had given him, “it is good to have something to put in my stomach. Thanks to Old Tallow.”

  Everyone was quiet for a while, and Omakayas felt her heart squeeze painfully.

  Quill kept on talking. “When I was hungry, I talked to my stomach the way Nanabozho talked to his arms in the story. Remember?”

  In spite of herself, Omakayas laughed. Nanabozho was the great trickster and teacher of the Anishinabeg, and although he’d helped create the world, he was always getting into trouble. Sometimes he got into arguments with parts of his body that would not obey him. Once, he’d gotten angry at indiyan, his buttocks, and tried to burn them with fire.

  “Dagasana,” said Quill to Nokomis, “will you tell us a story about Nanabozho?”

  Omakayas put some crushed leaves in her grandmother’s hand and said, “Someday I’ll bring you real tobacco!”

  “All right,” Nokomis said. “Here is that story you were talking about, when Nanabozho killed his arms.”

  NANABOZHO AND THE BUFFALO

  Mewinzha, mewinzha, Nanabozho was walking along when he spied some buffalo. He was very hungry for buffalo, but he only had a knife, no bow and arrow, no gun, so he had to try and get them to come near enough for him to kill.

  “Beautiful ones, oh beautiful ones,” he called to the buffalo.

  The buffalo looked over at Nanabozho, but they did not come near.

  “Beautiful ones, let me smell you,” he said.

  The buffalo looked at one another and ran a short distance away from Nanabozho.

  “No, really, my little brothers, I have heard that you smell wonderful! I would really like to find out for myself!”

  So one of the buffalo came back to let Nanabozho smell it.

&nb
sp; “Mmmm,” said Nanabozho, “it is true. You smell delicious!”

  With that, he struck the buffalo with his knife.

  As soon as the buffalo had fallen to the ground, Nanabozho’s left arm took the knife and said, “I’m the hungriest. I want the fat meat!”

  “No, no,” said Nanabozho’s right arm, snatching the knife away, “I’m hungrier. I’m going to take the fat meat!”

  “Wait a minute, little brothers,” said Nanabozho, “don’t fight. I’m hungry too. I’ll divide the meat up among the three of us.”

  “I don’t trust you. Right arm is selfish!” said his left arm, grabbing the knife.

  “Left arm is the selfish one!” said the right arm, taking the knife again.

  “You two, quit fighting!” cried Nanabozho. He became furious. He was in a rage.

  “I’ll teach you arms to fight!” He took that knife and poked those arms all over until they gave up. Both arms fainted and could not be revived. Then Nanabozho could no longer hold the knife. His arms were limp and useless. The knife was on the ground with the buffalo. Suddenly the buffalo stirred. It was not entirely killed. It got up and looked at Nanabozho.

  “Enjoy my delicious smell, that’s all you will get,” it said, and walked away to join its brothers.