White Bear Mask

The slaves were astonished to spy three strangers sitting with their masters in the canoe returning across the surf from Refuge Rock. They immediately took up spears and ran to the sandy bank of the inlet, unsure if the chiefs needed help.

Tsysecum grunted out a command. The slaves splashed into the water to pull the vessel ashore. Seeing that the companions were Owl Men made them hesitate. None of the others tricked to transverse the outer perimeter of the Rock had lived. Ghosts. Dead men come to extract vengeance?

Tsysecum climbed out first, shouting at the slaves to assist the elder chief.

"Raven has spared these round heads. Treat them as chiefs," he scolded, jabbing his hand with a swipe.

Dog flesh smoldered over the camp fire. Tsysecum walked over to tear off a piece of meat and dropped onto the reed mats, resigning himself to the will of elder Whirlwind. Chewing a mouthful with a sigh, he turned his face away from the others.

Mowa'kek, in contrast, seemed to swell once ashore, standing tall with a smile he looked up at the sky and toward the eastern mountains that loomed above the vanishing point of the watery path before him.

"Suitor Round Head and I will hunt now. The tide is about to flow inward. Bring the provisions," he barked to the slaves.

"We will hunt. Three days to visit Raven's perch at the top of the Chattering Falls. We will kill a white bear without knife or club. Beautiful white fur to make a wedding coat. He earned it at the bone games. We know that he and his brothers were spared death by our spirits to become one with the Selawik. His offspring will be ours once he drinks white bear blood. One with us. It is the answer. It is the will of the spirits, of whom I am a servant like you are servants of our people."

Two of the slaves, whose names were unknown to the Kaw-Seth, pulled out one of the bentwood boxes already stocked with food and blankets and ran to fill another with water from one of the streams that cascaded down the hills behind the camp. They found green frogs in the stream water. A sign that the water possessed powers of protection. But, they didn't tell Mowa'kek, knowing he would scold them for daring to give an interpretation in his presence.

Another slave called Dené Tha arranged mats and blankets for the Suitor Party to sit on near the fire. Two surprisingly large tree bark and driftwood huts, apparently built the day before, stood on each side of the fire-pit, providing shelter from the rain for the chiefs and slaves and their provisions.

Hayoqwis could see that the weather looked good for the voyage to the upper reaches of the inlet, now shrouded in mist and framed by glistening streaks of water falls segmenting both sides of the cliffs. He felt as if he were about to cross the door posts into a dream house, another world.

When Swift in War was prepared, the Selawik and Kaw-Seth men stood side by side to watch Hayoqwis and Mowa'kek settle into position to begin the voyage to the end of the gleaming inlet.

Soowali Whirlwind's missing front tooth showed in a broad smile. Then he shouted out a blessing that convinced Hayoqwis of the chief's contrition.

"May Black Raven swallow your fear and impart strength more powerful than any bear. May Our Bird fly before you to whisper into the white ear of exactly the right bear to lull him for for the kill. May his white fur add warmth to this round head's wedding bed and grant him sons," his aged voice cracked in a high pitch as he continued.

"Become one with us, Kaw-Seth Owl man. Let the power of Sea-lion Spirit give you many flat-faced sons."

In spite of the blessing from the white haired chief, Wounti worried of trickery. Foreign spirits seemed to dwell thick in this place -- the water, wind, trees and even the grass felt dangerous. How could he rest knowing the threats of deception and death?

To keep away from their hosts, for the next few days he and Kalis devoted themselves to fishing with a Selawick net in the shoals and eddies where the waters rushed into the inlet. The cold water reminded them of home, but they longed to escape the gaze of the spirits hovering in this place.

When the smoke from the camp was out of sight, Mowa'kek tipped his flat profile to the side and shouted out a warning to Hayoqwis paddling behind him, "Now we enter the narrows where the incoming tide pours through a passage and hidden boulder.  We must pass between two whirl pools. Be steady. Hold onto the paddles firmly."

White ripples emerged to grasp at Strong in Battle's hull, tugging it up and down between the worlds of sky and water. The men sped ahead into the rapids that looked less violent from the surface, but pulled at the paddles like a powerful unseen monster. They navigated between the rocks. Swift in Battle tipped from side to side until it launched into a calm patch of river that reflected bright clouds moving east as if leading the way.

That afternoon they passed waterfall upon waterfall, each tossing mist from the rocky ridges down into the brush where deer appeared to stare from the shore and great blue herons stood guard.

The sun moved behind them when Mowa'kek spoke again, after remaining silent for most of the day.

"Let me play my hunting flute over the raised bolder. The music draws the right bear near." He pursed his lips to whistle a droning melody.

"The bears will come near. Then, aick! The bolder suspended in the trap will fall to crush his skull. It will be quick. But, know this round headed one. He will revive to rip off our limbs for a warm meal if we lack favor of Raven. These are true Selawik White Bears. They are unlike any beast that you hunted before. These vicious beasts are guided by powerful demons which must be charmed. Do as I say.

"Do exactly as I say dead man," he said again looking directly into Hayoqwis' eyes as shaman do when they see into a man's thoughts.

"We must replace the emptiness in your chest with White Bear flesh. It is the only way to redeem your lowly heritage."

When the canyon grew dark, they beached the canoe to gather rocks for a fire ring and found plenty of drift wood. The men ate jerky and cakes in silence, staring into the fire that flashed blue and green and seemed to compose images of white bears looking back in wonder. They slept in the canoe. Hayoqwis wished he had some bloodroot paste to keep the mosquitoes off his skin. 

At midnight they heard wolves howling above the cliffs. The howling echoed between the cliffs above the moving water, making it easy to imagine the huge dimensions surrounding the camp. Hayoqwis wondered how wolves could climb so high without visible trails on such a steep embankment. Mowa'kek proclaimed that the wolf songs were messages from Raven's world, urging them to be careful to honor the great bird or die without the cover of the spirit's wings. He recited a chant to the wolves and to Raven and seemed content in communion with the spirits in this sacred place.

"Raised ears and snouts. Out there. The white ones smell our scent mixed with campfire smoke and long to draw near. Curious each time the humans enter their land. I adore the white bear people. They are my cousins. They make a powerful sacrifice and grand meal to renew the soul and remind us of our true nature. Every year I lead a hunt, in the fall, to take one of these ones for a feast. All the young men desire a white bear-skin wedding robe. It increases fertility. Don't worry. We will get your warm white robe or die. Soon."

The wolf cries grew faint and ceased. The fire turned to dull embers. Mowakek fell asleep, staring up at the sky.

Hayoqwis dreamed of white bears and meeting Spe-eth covered in a robe made of living chickadees. His uncle glowed white and mouthed a message he could not understand. Between dreams he awoke to wonder if his betrothed Umakqee was safe or if his Selawick rival had reached Meet-in-the Middle camp to take her. He knew that Somkin would presume that the suitor party had been killed by the sea lion and that he could now claim her.

White Bear Mask continued


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