He took a bite of mush and chewed it. “I’ve wondered that same thing for many summers.”
“Any conclusions?” She spooned mush into her mouth and ate it while she waited for him to answer. The sweet flavor of the red corn penetrated through the tang of the raspberries.
“A few. Despite the differences, there are also striking similarities. Elder Brother Sun vanishes into darkness. The flowers of the World Tree are shaken loose. The actions of humans are judged and condemned.”
“What do you think it means?”
He frowned. “I’m not sure, but have you ever noticed that people on the same path see it a little differently? Some focus on the tracks in the trail. Others see only the campfires of the dead visible through the trees over their heads. Still others ignore the sky and ground completely and notice the birds and deer.”
“So, you’re saying it’s possible they are the same event, just seen through different eyes?”
“Maybe.” He shrugged.
Gitchi stood up and stretched. He was a beautiful old wolf. The white hair that had grown around his eyes gave him character, like the wrinkles of a wise old face.
Baji ate a few more bites of mush, then scooped the last chunks of muskrat out onto the frozen ground for Gitchi. He gulped them while he wagged his tail.
As Baji started to straighten up, sharp, birdlike chirping echoed nearby. Her head jerked around in time to see a flying squirrel leap from the tallest branches of a chestnut tree. Its enormous eyes shone. Using the fold of skin between its wrists and ankles to slow its descent, it glided down to land on the trunk of a maple, then quickly scampered up it and disappeared.
Baji set her bowl on the ground, quietly pulled her bow from her shoulder, and nocked an arrow. When she lifted her nose to scent the wind, the pungency of fear sweat wafted to her.
Dekanawida set his bowl down beside hers, and tried to follow her gaze out into the trees. He whispered, “Did you see something?”
“There’s someone out there. Let’s move out of the firelight.”
Dekanawida glanced down at Gitchi happily licking their bowls clean. “Gitchi doesn’t seem to smell anything.”
“Trust me.”
She led the way around the pond to stand half-hidden behind a sycamore trunk as wide as three men standing shoulder-to-shoulder. Dekanawida took a position just behind her, peering over the top of her head.
The noise of Gitchi licking bowls suddenly stopped.
Baji glanced back at the wolf. He stood absolutely still, his tail straight out behind him, his muzzle pointed at something in the aspen grove on the other side of the pond.
Thirty-four
Sky Messenger
My heartbeat quickens as I follow Baji’s gaze to a dense grove of aspens that shine faintly white in the dark forest weave. Gitchi growls, barely audible.
Baji hisses, “Keep Gitchi here until I’ve circled around behind the fool. Once my arrow is in flight, we’ll both rush him.”
“I don’t see anything. Where is he?”
She half draws back her bow. “Standing right there in the aspens.”
With the silence of Eagle hunting Rabbit, Baji eases into the trees and vanishes amid the warp and weft of branches and trunks. Her steps are completely silent.
I slide around the massive sycamore to get a different view of the forest, and softly call, “Gitchi, lie down. Don’t move.”
The wolf flattens out behind the hearth stones with his ears laid back. His yellow eyes dance with reflected firelight, still focused unblinking on the aspens.
I don’t understand why Gitchi and Baji see the intruder and I do not. I cast a quick glance to my right at the thin, spiral-twisted pines where Baji disappeared. The morning air smells of hickory smoke and raspberries, almost obscuring the tangy forest fragrances.
I search for recognizable threats—human shapes like rounded heads, extended hands, legs amid the saplings. Often, strands of hair fluttering in the breeze or the swaying of a cape gives an opponent away. This murderer must be especially skilled, for I see absolutely nothing.
Then, far to the right of the aspens, a glint flashes and vanishes. It flashes again, moving through a thicket of chokecherries.
Jewelry? Cape decorations? Maybe a white arrow point being aimed at Baji or me?
I keep my gaze on the location, and slowly work my way through the frosty ferns that cover the forest floor. Each movement of my feet stirs a faint shish. Slipping from tree trunk to tree trunk, my gaze scans for movement. Where is Baji? She should be somewhere in the maples to my right. Can she see the light? Gitchi lies in the same place, at least partially sheltered behind the largest hearth stones. As the morning sky begins to shade deep purple, angled layers of snow-sheathed limestone appear and glisten amid the patchwork of shadows. Grass stems cluster at their bases. In the trees, fluffed out for warmth, birds hunch on the branches like small circular boles.