People of the Raven(163)

The whistling war club came out of nowhere, catching Red Dog full on the side of the head. The blow flashed yellow lightning behind his eyes. He heard as well as felt the bones snapping as his head recoiled from the force.

As his swimming vision cleared, he realized he was on the ground, unable to move.

The last thing he saw was the faint outline of a giant coyote’s head against the sky.

“Dzoo is mine, you silly fool. All mine.”

The words barely penetrated the ringing in Red Dog’s head as his vision faded to gray.





Dusk

“Soul Keeper?” I whisper.

“Yes, I’m here.”

I breathe, “I … I’m afraid. I don’t want … to die.”

I no longer have the strength to open my eyes, but I know night is falling. The light that filters through my eyelids is dark gray. I’m almost used up. For the past hand of time, I’ve felt myself going cold inside, like an ember slowly fading to ash.

Wind Woman sweeps across the beach and flaps the Soul Keeper’s cape. I listen as he resettles himself.

“There is a very old story,” he begins, “about Wolf and Coyote in the Beginning Time.”

I take a deep breath and let the words flow around me. There are tens of such stories. Which one does he want me to hear?

“In the Beginning Time, no one died. They ate a plant called the Everlasting Flower that kept them alive. Coyote’s brother, Wolf, said, ‘I think people should die, but rise after two days.’ Coyote disagreed. He said, ‘There are too many people in the world. I don’t want people to rise. They should die forever.’”

“Coyote … won,” I say.

“Yes, he did. But when Coyote’s only son grew ill, he panicked. Coyote ran like lightning across the world searching for one single blossom from the Everlasting Flower.”

My soul must be climbing out of my body, because I do not recall this version of the story. I say, “Did he … find it?”

“Oh, yes. Yes, he did.” The Soul Keeper’s voice is grave. “Magpie told him about a cave where the last flowers grew. Coyote ran hard and fast. The cave sat at the foot of a mountain. When Coyote entered the cave, he heard a buffalo’s startled grunt; then the animal moved, and the fetid odor of rot filled the cave. Coyote trotted deeper, and he saw the flowers growing at the edge of a still pool. Bright and silver, like Sister Moon’s flesh, they glowed in the darkness.

“As Coyote rushed forward to pluck one of the blossoms, a hideously diseased buffalo stepped out of the shadows. It was all but a skeleton. It could barely stand. Hair hung like filthy rags from its rotting hide.

“‘What happened to you?’ Coyote asked.

“Buffalo said, ‘Do not pick that blossom.’

“‘But I must. My son will die forever if I don’t.’

“Buffalo wobbled toward Coyote on rotten legs. ‘I ate those blossoms when I was a calf.’

“‘But how can that be?’ Coyote asked. ‘You look like you might die at any moment.’

“‘Yes,’ said Buffalo in a deep, rumbling voice, ‘but I won’t. I should have died tens of seasons ago and gone to the House of Air to graze green meadows with my Ancestors. But I am condemned to live in this world. All of my family and friends are long dead. No living buffalo will talk to me. I am a rotting carcass to them. I rot a little more every day, without the hope of death.’

“Coyote backed up a step, his yellow eyes wide. ‘Are you saying that the Everlasting Flower grants eternal life, but does not rejuvenate the body?’

“The moldering buffalo nodded. ‘It just prevents death.’ He hung his massive head and heaved a sigh. ‘I pray every day to Buffalo Above to grant me the peace of death, but it never comes. So, I stand here to warn others of the cost of the Everlasting Flower.’”

A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. If I’d been Coyote, I know very well what I would have done.

I say, “I would have … grabbed it … and run.”

“Yes, I suspect most parents would. But what a supreme act of selfishness—condemning a son to live forever because you cannot bear to lose him. How do you think your son would feel when you died? Do you think he would praise your name? Or curse you?”

I understand the lesson.

Does the old fool think I’m no smarter than a common rock? He’s telling me I should stop struggling and look upon Death as salvation.

It is so difficult.

My soul keeps wandering through memories of things I’ve done … . Bad things.

How can I believe that salvation awaits me?

I manage to get enough air to ask, “Will you … Keep … my soul?”