Wolf, continued
The wolf-people did come that Winter Ceremonies to take the boys away and the song leaders and drummers were especially good in persuading the spirits to return the initiates after five days, safely transformed into men. During this time of intense singing and celebration, Uma-kwee enjoyed the stories more than ever before because she was able to join in the music by playing the scallop shell tambourine made by her father that summer.
Each night, the chief’s spokesman and host storyteller wore the impressive heron headdress with mother-of-pearl disk eyes -- that glowed like a rainbow -- and the long dog-hair cape fitted with blue jay feathers. He performed more eloquently than usual, telling the stories and singing the ancient verses so vividly that his audience forgot about their ordinary lives and were taken up into the supernatural world.
Some of the stories were new to her and the people. These new songs were won as a prize from another tribe by the Chief’s son in a gambling game at the regional potlatch on Great Island that year. One of the new stories told of a beautiful daughter of a chief who refused all suitors out of pride until one day the sky looked down and greatly favored her and took her up to live in his world to find happiness as his wife. Now filled with the glowing love of the sky, on clear nights she still looks down as the face of the moon to help her people find their way in darkness.
On the night that the wolves returned the boys, a thick snowstorm fell upon the coast, blanketing Kah-sidaatsoos with more snow than even her grandmother could remember, almost covering the longhouse doorways. It was very cold outside and difficult to walk even with snowshoes, so most of the people stayed inside, venturing out only to collect wood and haul water. At first her younger bothers ran out to play with the dogs in the snow, until their moccasin’s and tunics were soaked wet and her mother made them come in to eat a meal and dry themselves by the fire. The cold burned little boy’s hands and ears, so their sister played games with them inside instead.
The fury of winter blew hard during those nights, riding the high winds and breaking branches and treetops in his whistling rage. When the wind stopped, she was surprised by how quiet the village had become. Everything was silenced under the snow blanket. Each morning the forest and beaches received a new coat of ice and the creeks and parts of the river froze as hard as obsidian rock. Anyone caught outside for too long would die.
Uma-kwee wondered how any animal could live in the forest in such extreme cold without a fire or lodge for warmth. “Don’t worry about the animals,” said grandmother Qkizacool. “Elk and his cousin deer have warm coats that keep them dry and happy. Bear and wolf are curled up contentedly in their hidden lairs asleep with their young. Frog’s soft bed is the mud at the bottom of the lake and the bird-people perch in the sheltering arms of giant trees. We Duwam'ha have learned how to keep the cold of winter away with the warmth of our fire, given to us from the hand of Wonderful Doer long ago. He is the father of all lights and a generous spirit. We know that soon he will transform this winter into spring and cause the sun to shine bright again.”
Grandmother’s wisdom was confirmed the next day when rains came to melt the snow. Slowly the long, wet days that followed seem to grow shorter and warmer until Uma-kwee began hearing birds sing spring songs. She also began to hear the restless voices of her brothers begging their father to let them go on a deer hunt. On these days she often awoke before dawn by the birds singing their adoration of creation. While the rest of the family slept, she noticed through the smoke hole the sky changing from black to a deep blue – the same color of a muscle shell.
Next chapter
Each night, the chief’s spokesman and host storyteller wore the impressive heron headdress with mother-of-pearl disk eyes -- that glowed like a rainbow -- and the long dog-hair cape fitted with blue jay feathers. He performed more eloquently than usual, telling the stories and singing the ancient verses so vividly that his audience forgot about their ordinary lives and were taken up into the supernatural world.
Some of the stories were new to her and the people. These new songs were won as a prize from another tribe by the Chief’s son in a gambling game at the regional potlatch on Great Island that year. One of the new stories told of a beautiful daughter of a chief who refused all suitors out of pride until one day the sky looked down and greatly favored her and took her up to live in his world to find happiness as his wife. Now filled with the glowing love of the sky, on clear nights she still looks down as the face of the moon to help her people find their way in darkness.
On the night that the wolves returned the boys, a thick snowstorm fell upon the coast, blanketing Kah-sidaatsoos with more snow than even her grandmother could remember, almost covering the longhouse doorways. It was very cold outside and difficult to walk even with snowshoes, so most of the people stayed inside, venturing out only to collect wood and haul water. At first her younger bothers ran out to play with the dogs in the snow, until their moccasin’s and tunics were soaked wet and her mother made them come in to eat a meal and dry themselves by the fire. The cold burned little boy’s hands and ears, so their sister played games with them inside instead.
The fury of winter blew hard during those nights, riding the high winds and breaking branches and treetops in his whistling rage. When the wind stopped, she was surprised by how quiet the village had become. Everything was silenced under the snow blanket. Each morning the forest and beaches received a new coat of ice and the creeks and parts of the river froze as hard as obsidian rock. Anyone caught outside for too long would die.
Uma-kwee wondered how any animal could live in the forest in such extreme cold without a fire or lodge for warmth. “Don’t worry about the animals,” said grandmother Qkizacool. “Elk and his cousin deer have warm coats that keep them dry and happy. Bear and wolf are curled up contentedly in their hidden lairs asleep with their young. Frog’s soft bed is the mud at the bottom of the lake and the bird-people perch in the sheltering arms of giant trees. We Duwam'ha have learned how to keep the cold of winter away with the warmth of our fire, given to us from the hand of Wonderful Doer long ago. He is the father of all lights and a generous spirit. We know that soon he will transform this winter into spring and cause the sun to shine bright again.”
Grandmother’s wisdom was confirmed the next day when rains came to melt the snow. Slowly the long, wet days that followed seem to grow shorter and warmer until Uma-kwee began hearing birds sing spring songs. She also began to hear the restless voices of her brothers begging their father to let them go on a deer hunt. On these days she often awoke before dawn by the birds singing their adoration of creation. While the rest of the family slept, she noticed through the smoke hole the sky changing from black to a deep blue – the same color of a muscle shell.
Next chapter
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