Rattlesnake Mask

Inside the lodge, Mowa'kek examined the contents of the stored food boxes packed full of dried meats, seaweed and berry cakes. He laid the bunches of mushrooms on a plank to dry, pleased by the quantity of underworld fruit collected that afternoon.

Once the fire was lit, the house warmed and the shaman sat down on soft reed mats spread lavishly around the central fire place. He sipped bear-scat tea that tasted nourishing from a badger skull bowl. He had a feeling that the spirit guides would grant him a powerful vision. The sun sat quickly. The eastern side of Refuge Rock was now shaded in evening light and rain began again. It would be a perfect night to greet the immortal ones, especially after his victory over the round faced Owl Men.

Memories of this place filled his mind. He had made the voyage from Klauk Village up the wild coast more than seventy times. He knew each deformed rock pillar, hidden shoal and current like the veins of his own body. Most summers he made the trip alone for private quests, but had also led funeral parties of more than one hundred braves and clan leaders who scrambled up the side of Refuge Rock like a line of ants.

Here in the Ghost House the spirit Nestuka visited his dreams. The spirit appeared in the form of a man, not a sea lion, just as Mowa'kek remembered him a generation ago. Nestuka brought messages from Raven who dwelt atop a waterfall at the end of the Inlet that reached to the center of Great Island. The messages received here gave him knowledge that astonished everyone and built his reputation as the region's most powerful Seer.

Visions of animals such as seals or bears floated near his face to breathe into his nostrils powers from the unseen world. These encounters gave him the ability to look into the souls of men and women to discover secrets.

Back in Klauk Village, even his small daughters and sons were feared. He was proud of his powers to protect the people from blasphemers. His enemies suffered punishment whenever they dared to challenge him. He always knew the thoughts of those conspiring against him. Killing those who opposed him was easy.

More than fifty men could sleep in Ghost House, shielded from wind and hidden like a Puffin's nest on the cliff. Slaves had stocked it with plenty of fire wood in the early days of the summer to make ready for the ceremonies honoring the departed great men and women buried on the rock or lost at sea.

The home fire now produced a solid plume of smoke that drew up through the ceiling into the evening. Mowa'kek reached back to tie his long, bushy hair together with twine to keep it from catching fire during the visions. He laughed at how easy it was to fool the Owl Men. How right for them to die at the bites of Guardian Nestuka.

He put the thought that the round heads had survived out of his mind. That was unlikely since none of the others lured here for judgment lived to challenge the Sea Lion's rage. Even some of his own men had been attacked when they forgot to appease him with a dog sacrifice. The storm the day before was the final blow. Yes, they are gone with the others now. He could turn his mind to the mushrooms.

Continued