White Bear Mask continued
Quietly the shaman and Hayoqwis arose at the first tentative touch of dawn to push off from the shore into the flowing currents taking them deeper between the mountains. The morning was unusually warm and the fog dissipated quickly like slipping off a blanket from a door. Dipping again and again into the black surface of the seawater reminded Hayoqwis of drumming all day during the summer feasts on Island Home. The constant rhythm returned his thoughts to the image of uncle Spe-eth wearing the clan's cannibal hat -- reserved for winter story telling. .
The canyon walls grew narrow and giant fir trees that lined the rocky banks of the inlet swept the sky. Here ghosts of men lost on hunting trips or sacrificed to the Raven hovered among tree limbs or sat on ledges of cliffs, watching the canoe slide pass below. Also the Sesquick -- a race of tall, hairy wild people who lived in the forested high places peered from the brush unseen, wondering if these hunters would be successful in the kill.
Late in the afternoon, ahead in the distance, Mowakek spied three white bears jumping from the beach into the forest. He signaled for Hayoqwis to keep his head down.
"We are near the White Bear village," said the shaman.
"Lookouts waiting for our arrival. Let us hope that they did not see your round head. Soon we will come to the Chattering Waterfall. Then we climb the path to Raven's chair and ask his help."
When they reached the sandbar below the bank where the bears had disappeared into the brush, suddenly Hayoqwis saw a shot of movement. One after the other two large creatures leaped into the water, quickly swimming into the wake of the canoe.
Hayoqwis hit the snout of the first bear with his paddle, slowing it's advance.
Soon their frantic pace outran the pursuers. He had never seen bears attack a canoe. It was as if he was the hunted.
Just when he returned to normal rhythm of paddling, from the forest beyond the shore line came a high pitched scream like none other he had heard. His first thought was that it was a mountain lion or an elk.
"It is the Sesquik people. The giants. They know we are here," said Mowa'kek.
"If they capture you, do not eat their food. Those who eat the food offered by a Sesquik are transformed into loathsome insects. I have met the Sesquik and made a pack with them. They have power here to protect the sacred roots and small creatures of the land. They watch out for all the gentle animals. The giants keep away from white bear paths. White bear are enemies of the giants. Now listen. Do you hear the chatter up ahead? The mountain is speaking. I know its language well. It is saying come, come up to the top. There you will meet my people's Raven."
They paused paddling to perceive a distant roar of the waterfall that marked the end of the inlet. Soon Hayoqwis could see a bar of white among the deep green fir trees on the left bank.
When they arrived at the falls, the roar prevented speech without yelling, so the hunters kept silent.
It was a large waterfall, as big as two long houses, white and powerful cascading over boulders that looked like rungs of a ladder reaching to the sky. The falls led up into clouds that obscured the precipice above.
Mowa'kek led Hayoqwis to a level clearing of low growing blueberry bushes between a circle of cedar trees on the banks of the inlet a short distance from the stream flowing from the base of the falls. The tree circle looked like uncarved house poles. Looking up he could see clouds drifting across the blue sky. The shaman pulled out his leather magic bag of stones and herbs and withdrew a bundle of sticks about the size of his hand. Unwrapping the a warm coal gathered from the campfire the night before, he knelt down to light the smudge sticks with the fire start.
"This ember heard my prayers to the wolf people. That will make the smoke powerful. Look down, round head. Hide your face," he ordered as white smoke burst from the sticks. He waved the smoldering sticks above his head and smoke drifted like the clouds.
"We must quiet the serpent spirit who lives behind the falls. Otherwise his call will make us dizzy on the climb."
Once they were sure enough smudge smoke was offered to protect them, the men pulled Swift in Battle up farther into brush above the rocky bank to secure it before the hike to the top.
After eating some berry-fish cakes and drinking water from the stream, the hunters ascended the steep trail and continued up. Raven's Nest trail had many switch backs that rig zagged through the steep forest. Hayoqwis was surprised that such a remote trail was fitted with rock steps and seemed groomed and well worn.
At dusk fog engulfed the forest, but he guessed that they were near what must be the top of the canyon.
"I have a boulder camp prepared at the top. Wood cached. Dry and safe from giants, lions or shadow spirits. Too high for wolves. I feel the presence of Raven breathing his cool breath upon us," said the shaman.
They reached the camp surrounded by three house sized boulders and constructed a fire with the cache of wood and a large fallen log dragged from the forest. Mowa'kek uncovered a plane bentwood box hidden under planks of slate and pulled out two thick mountain goat blankets that kept them warm throughout the cold but clear night.
The forest was silent except for the distant sound of the water falling down to the inlet. The giants kept to themselves. In the orange light of a large fire made of broken dead fall from winter storms cast a wide glow around their camp. Mowa'kek revealed his plan to use a baited boulder trap to kill a white bear. That pleased Hayoqwis since the white bear pelt must be whole, uncut by spear or arrow holes. If a bear could be lured under the uplifted rock, then men could pull the support and crush the creature. Flute music and sacred rattles may be enough to lure one. Or the flesh of a gutted dear.
"The scent of fresh blood is very appealing to the white ones," Mowa'kek said.
"At sunrise when light touches the highest rock of the spirit's chair we will give homage to Raven and ask for his gift. You must keep your head down. Look down, round head. Look down at the dirt in the presence of Raven. He is a mighty spirit and maker of many storms. He is Guardian of my people as well as Sky Chief of the Sesquik who give him sacrifice of human blood. Perhaps he will tolerate your status as a Suitor. Raven would like your sons to know his ways, like your uncle, the red painted one."
Mentioning Se-eth stirred grief and rage in Hayoqwis again. Then he remembered the vision he had seen of his uncle in his dreams each night. Spe-eth was watching out for him.
"Listen to me shaman. You are my guide. I heard your promise to the old chief. You are bound to help me. My brother and I purchased a white bear hunt. Everyone knows you are here with me now. If we do not return safe with a skin, you and your tribe will be shamed."
"Seven sesaons I have met Raven here near his rock seat." replied the magician. Six seasons he rewarded my offerings.
"He is a crafty trickster. We are in his territory. If he chooses to provide the gift you will have it. But, he may kill us instead. In the morning we will see the outcome of your quest. I am confident you will return with your skin and my honor will be restored. Wait in patience. We will make the trap and catch your bear."
Hayoqwis grew excited at the thought of completing the quest for the white bear robe. He took hold of his brother Tokwish's bear claw amulet and whispered a silent chant to Wonderful Doer of the Worlds Above for protection.
"I am a dead man to this place. What can foreign spirits do to me? None can harm a man already dead. None can harm the victors of this world."
Next chapter
The canyon walls grew narrow and giant fir trees that lined the rocky banks of the inlet swept the sky. Here ghosts of men lost on hunting trips or sacrificed to the Raven hovered among tree limbs or sat on ledges of cliffs, watching the canoe slide pass below. Also the Sesquick -- a race of tall, hairy wild people who lived in the forested high places peered from the brush unseen, wondering if these hunters would be successful in the kill.
Late in the afternoon, ahead in the distance, Mowakek spied three white bears jumping from the beach into the forest. He signaled for Hayoqwis to keep his head down.
"We are near the White Bear village," said the shaman.
"Lookouts waiting for our arrival. Let us hope that they did not see your round head. Soon we will come to the Chattering Waterfall. Then we climb the path to Raven's chair and ask his help."
When they reached the sandbar below the bank where the bears had disappeared into the brush, suddenly Hayoqwis saw a shot of movement. One after the other two large creatures leaped into the water, quickly swimming into the wake of the canoe.
Hayoqwis hit the snout of the first bear with his paddle, slowing it's advance.
Soon their frantic pace outran the pursuers. He had never seen bears attack a canoe. It was as if he was the hunted.
Just when he returned to normal rhythm of paddling, from the forest beyond the shore line came a high pitched scream like none other he had heard. His first thought was that it was a mountain lion or an elk.
"It is the Sesquik people. The giants. They know we are here," said Mowa'kek.
"If they capture you, do not eat their food. Those who eat the food offered by a Sesquik are transformed into loathsome insects. I have met the Sesquik and made a pack with them. They have power here to protect the sacred roots and small creatures of the land. They watch out for all the gentle animals. The giants keep away from white bear paths. White bear are enemies of the giants. Now listen. Do you hear the chatter up ahead? The mountain is speaking. I know its language well. It is saying come, come up to the top. There you will meet my people's Raven."
They paused paddling to perceive a distant roar of the waterfall that marked the end of the inlet. Soon Hayoqwis could see a bar of white among the deep green fir trees on the left bank.
When they arrived at the falls, the roar prevented speech without yelling, so the hunters kept silent.
It was a large waterfall, as big as two long houses, white and powerful cascading over boulders that looked like rungs of a ladder reaching to the sky. The falls led up into clouds that obscured the precipice above.
Mowa'kek led Hayoqwis to a level clearing of low growing blueberry bushes between a circle of cedar trees on the banks of the inlet a short distance from the stream flowing from the base of the falls. The tree circle looked like uncarved house poles. Looking up he could see clouds drifting across the blue sky. The shaman pulled out his leather magic bag of stones and herbs and withdrew a bundle of sticks about the size of his hand. Unwrapping the a warm coal gathered from the campfire the night before, he knelt down to light the smudge sticks with the fire start.
"This ember heard my prayers to the wolf people. That will make the smoke powerful. Look down, round head. Hide your face," he ordered as white smoke burst from the sticks. He waved the smoldering sticks above his head and smoke drifted like the clouds.
"We must quiet the serpent spirit who lives behind the falls. Otherwise his call will make us dizzy on the climb."
Once they were sure enough smudge smoke was offered to protect them, the men pulled Swift in Battle up farther into brush above the rocky bank to secure it before the hike to the top.
After eating some berry-fish cakes and drinking water from the stream, the hunters ascended the steep trail and continued up. Raven's Nest trail had many switch backs that rig zagged through the steep forest. Hayoqwis was surprised that such a remote trail was fitted with rock steps and seemed groomed and well worn.
At dusk fog engulfed the forest, but he guessed that they were near what must be the top of the canyon.
"I have a boulder camp prepared at the top. Wood cached. Dry and safe from giants, lions or shadow spirits. Too high for wolves. I feel the presence of Raven breathing his cool breath upon us," said the shaman.
They reached the camp surrounded by three house sized boulders and constructed a fire with the cache of wood and a large fallen log dragged from the forest. Mowa'kek uncovered a plane bentwood box hidden under planks of slate and pulled out two thick mountain goat blankets that kept them warm throughout the cold but clear night.
The forest was silent except for the distant sound of the water falling down to the inlet. The giants kept to themselves. In the orange light of a large fire made of broken dead fall from winter storms cast a wide glow around their camp. Mowa'kek revealed his plan to use a baited boulder trap to kill a white bear. That pleased Hayoqwis since the white bear pelt must be whole, uncut by spear or arrow holes. If a bear could be lured under the uplifted rock, then men could pull the support and crush the creature. Flute music and sacred rattles may be enough to lure one. Or the flesh of a gutted dear.
"The scent of fresh blood is very appealing to the white ones," Mowa'kek said.
"At sunrise when light touches the highest rock of the spirit's chair we will give homage to Raven and ask for his gift. You must keep your head down. Look down, round head. Look down at the dirt in the presence of Raven. He is a mighty spirit and maker of many storms. He is Guardian of my people as well as Sky Chief of the Sesquik who give him sacrifice of human blood. Perhaps he will tolerate your status as a Suitor. Raven would like your sons to know his ways, like your uncle, the red painted one."
Mentioning Se-eth stirred grief and rage in Hayoqwis again. Then he remembered the vision he had seen of his uncle in his dreams each night. Spe-eth was watching out for him.
"Listen to me shaman. You are my guide. I heard your promise to the old chief. You are bound to help me. My brother and I purchased a white bear hunt. Everyone knows you are here with me now. If we do not return safe with a skin, you and your tribe will be shamed."
"Seven sesaons I have met Raven here near his rock seat." replied the magician. Six seasons he rewarded my offerings.
"He is a crafty trickster. We are in his territory. If he chooses to provide the gift you will have it. But, he may kill us instead. In the morning we will see the outcome of your quest. I am confident you will return with your skin and my honor will be restored. Wait in patience. We will make the trap and catch your bear."
Hayoqwis grew excited at the thought of completing the quest for the white bear robe. He took hold of his brother Tokwish's bear claw amulet and whispered a silent chant to Wonderful Doer of the Worlds Above for protection.
"I am a dead man to this place. What can foreign spirits do to me? None can harm a man already dead. None can harm the victors of this world."
Next chapter
