Paccu and Minnecou shelters sprouted upon each shallow rise of the nearly level field. Shamira tread carefully down the embankment at the edge of the meadow and waded across the shallow stream to walk along the other side, where it wasn't so steep. Upstream, she came to a small pool where a group of Paccus bathed themselves and their children. She smiled and greeted them; they waved back, but did not smile, then casually resumed playing with and washing the young children.
Further up she found Sabatt, Petana and Kalashte, Mahkawan's three young boys, taking turns diving from a thick, oak limb over a deep pool in the stream. Some of the Paccu boys were diving with Mahkawan's sons, along with the solemn young Paccu she'd seen with Wanachan. He was older than the other boys, and after diving a couple of times, climbed high into the tree, and gazed intensely into the surrounding forest. Had he been Minnecou, she would have smiled and warmed to the young boy's concern. But being Paccu, she regarded his posture as little more than arrogance.
She passed the noisy group and headed further up the quickly ascending brook. There were many more pools and falls as the stream wound its way around and over the steadily rising ledges. She found the berries that Quitkwa had spoken of, and several thick vines with roots that were certain to bear tubers of sweet yams. Droppings of deer and moose were present within a short distance of many of the pools, and she even found slides used by minks and otters. This was a place they could stay for the passing of a moon, if necessary, though not quite as bountiful as the foothills of the Dark Mountains.
Shamira shed her deerskin clothing and moccasins, dropping into one of the pools. She went straight to the bottom and swam up the middle against the current, then off to the same side where she'd left her clothing. She pushed her hair back over her ears as she slipped through the surface of the water, letting her feet drift to the bottom in the gentle swirls near the bank. The sudden snap of a branch froze her movement, but set her heart to racing. She glanced slowly around, careful not to disturb the calmness of the pool. At the top of the basin was a waterfall. Shamira slipped quietly beneath the surface, hugging the bottom as she struggled upstream. She nearly ran short of breath and came up sputtering beneath the shallow falls, where the water ran deep. It was difficult to hold on as she watched.
The flow blurred her vision. She heard nothing but the pounding water. She watched as a dark form suddenly appeared, moving slowly in the direction of her clothing. It was an animal, she was certain. It stepped over her clothing without stopping to sniff. Trotting to the stream's edge, it stopped and spread its forelegs wide to drink. Shamira stuck her head part way into the flow of water A buck startled. She glimpsed his pronged horns before quickly pulling her head back under the falls; a smile appeared on her face as the confused animal searched in wonder. She knew by the horns that it was an old male antelope, and she wondered if this was the one Quitkwa had seen.
It spread its legs once again, dipping to the water's surface. Suddenly, it looked up and stared at the falls, scanning from side to side. Shamira remained perfectly still, but the pronghorn spooked, hopping up the bank and into the woods. She lurched out from under the falls and witnessed an unusual sight as the hind end of the animal cleared the top of the bank--it wasn't a buck at all; it was female. But the momentary glimpse left her uncertain. Perhaps the water had blurred her vision...or the angle of the animal's leap had caused a distortion of appearances. She swam to her clothing and quickly dressed.
The deep tracks were obvious in the soft mud of the riverbank, but more difficult to distinguish as they wound their way through a stand of hickory saplings, and over a series of ledges. Shamira followed them down a steep slope, and found herself in the middle of a narrow, winding valley, with many inlaid rivulets carving deeply into the stone floor. Grayish-white cliffs rose and fell in a winding gorge stretching northwest to southeast. But the antelope's trail abruptly ended on a large, flat outcropping of water-stained ledge, leaving no trace of the animal.
The humid air thickened and the incessant rhythms of frogs and insects became eerily distorted. Crickets were so loud, the noise of the rushing water seemed almost dwarfed in comparison. The buzzing whine of cicadas in the oppressive steam echoed through the valley in a see-saw of ever changing tones. Large black flies stood out sharply against the light gray bedrock, and bugs of every color and description crawled over the leaves and boulders of the surrounding forest floor. The mysterious antelope could have slipped away easily through this intense distraction, and through the many islands of thick laurel, crowded into every patch of earth that had managed to settle into the empty potholes and crags of the extensive limestone deposit.
The sun perched in the crook of jagged cliffs--a brilliant ball of softening red light, casting a pink hue on the facing walls and surrounding treetops. Daylight was fading and she reluctantly headed back to the camp. Tracing her way back, she came across a few faint imprints of her own tracks, as she was not trying to cover her trail, but there were no longer any hoof prints. She wanted to investigate, but it was nearly twilight. Everyone would be needed for the hunt tomorrow, and the clan would certainly not accept any more delays in their journey to the Dark Mountains.
She noted that nearly all of the blueberry bushes had been stripped clean, and found a lone Paccu woman still picking at the stream's edge while everyone else had returned to their makeshift camps for the night. Shamira helped her with the last couple of bushes and threw dozens of handfuls into the Paccu woman's basket. This was the first time one of them had smiled at her without merely trying to be polite. Shamira admired her for working after everyone else had gone back to their campsites as she knew the Paccus to be low on food. She sensed that this young woman would stop at nothing to insure the survival of her people without having to rely on the charity of others. By the time they had picked the last bush clean, they had established their names: Powhantin and Shamira. But they had developed an unspoken bond between them. Shamira gestured that they should return to the meadow, then heard the sounds of bickering voices coming from somewhere in the woods. The two women smiled and hid next to the stream to listen. Most of it appeared to be in Minnecou, though, with only a word or two coming from Ceptke as he tried to make himself understood to Kwoita.
"You said it was close!" Shamira heard Kwoita.
"Yes, but we went..."
"Did you not say it was simple to find once you have been there?"
"Me and Ceptke both..."
"I have heard enough of you and Ceptke...you and Ceptke." he repeated. "I am an old man if you have not noticed, and I have been running all day covering his friends' sloppy trail while trying to keep up with a band that wants to run across the world in one day. After all this, I have to follow you and Ceptke in circles until the sun sets, and then," he paused, "...then we have to stop and find something for you to eat. You have shown me nothing sacred other than your worship of food."
Ceptke shrugged and smiled into Quitkwa's exasperated expression. Though he had a clue as to what the conversation was about, thankfully he had no way of becoming involved, for after Quitkwa had led them around in a few circles, he produced the exact same results.
"I told you, grandfather, if we find that buck again he will lead us to the strange valley," Quitkwa said angrily.
"Yes, and now my voice is hoarse and my throat is sore from making mating calls while you search for enough food to fill your endless appetite." Kwoita returned, just as angrily.
"It would not hurt my feelings if your voice were turned into a whisper right now."
"The only reason it is not is because the Creator knows that you deserve the punishment of having to listen to me," Kwoita's voice rose.
Shamira sensed their conversation had come to an end. As they were heading towards the two women, but not yet in view, she grabbed Powhantin's hand and led her out in the open so as not to betray their eavesdropping. Shamira still had her bow draped over her shoulder as Kwoita and the younger men approached.
"What do you need with a bow?" Kwoita questioned his grand-daughter. "You know you shouldn't risk spooking the buffalo by wasting your time hunting small game."
"I was not hunting. I took my bow for protection while I scouted the stream. I met Powhantin, here, on my way back, and have only helped her pick berries for a short time," she said.
"I should have sent you out with these two," Kwoita said sarcastically. "You would have seen everything in the area, but little of this cave they have everyone talking about. Perhaps you caught sight of the great buck antelope that these two story tellers have been hiding behind to excuse their poor sense of direction," he said with an air of doubt.
"A large..." she hesitated, "buck came up to one of the pools further up the stream. I followed it through the woods to a valley of white cliffs, but I lost track of it there."
Quitkwa's eyes widened as Shamira testified to the truth of the two scouts' story; a broad smirk appeared on his face as Kwoita looked in his direction. "Take us there, now!" Quitkwa demanded.
"It is too dark," Kwoita said angrily. "We'll try again at dawn and join the hunt later." He gestured for everyone to follow and they walked back to the meadow as the fireflies became brightly visible.
A large council had been assembled with Minnecou and Paccus invited alike. They had started without Kwoita and his small group and were trying to determine what was true out of all the stories about the Snake people. While they agreed that to distance themselves from these mysterious happenings would be most desirable, most were curious as to the new mysteries of this little known area. Many disagreed as to whether they were far enough from the Snake people to consider themselves safe. While retreating to the foothills of the Dark Mountains would allow them to spot the approach of any Snake warriors on the lower plateaus, and lose any enemies with a quick retreat into the maze of endless valleys, many felt that the omens in this place were meant to keep them safe and that to continue on would prove disastrous.
After all was translated to the Paccus, Ketanka let it be known that everything will go as originally planned with one exception: Kwoita, Ceptke, Quitkwa and Shamira will continue to search for the elusive valley of white cliffs at dawn. Everyone else will go on the buffalo hunt. The Wolf brothers and the Paccu warriors guarding camp throughout the night, would rest while the band hunted, butchered and readied everything for travel. Those who disagreed could go their own way, as long as they didn't interfere with the plans of the rest of the band.
Shamira returned to the small, makeshift shelter, listening to Meequaw praising Ketanka's ability to get the whole band of Paccus and Minnecou together and have everyone understand what was going on and what was to be done.
"If they don't like it, they can go somewhere else," Meequaw went on. "I would prefer that the Paccus go their own way and we go ours," Meequaw commented. "But they are not a foolish people. They know that if they stay with us, they are safer from Snake people."
"It is the same with us," Shamira said. "If they separate from us, we'll be weaker in numbers, and they could lead the Snake warriors here as well. Many of them are tired and wounded. Perhaps when they recover, they may prove to be good allies."
"I find it hard to agree until I see the Wolf brothers' wives over there, watching us as if we were Paccus," Meequaw whispered. "I don't want to stay with them. They moved your sleeping robes back to a comfortable spot, so you wouldn't sleep outside tonight."
"I want to wake with the first light," Shamira said. "If they think that I'm only trying to cause trouble between them and their husbands, tell them that I'll be gone before the Wolf brothers return. When we get to the Dark Mountains, we'll make our own lodge, as we've always done."
Meequaw smiled.
Boaka and Shatomi moved quickly and silently ahead of the band as Ketanka led in the general direction the two scouts had last seen the herd. They communicated quite efficiently with their nearly identical sign languages, and were even beginning to use a few of the words they'd learned from each other. The humid air, however, was even more oppressive than the previous day, and every movement seemed a monumental task. Both were coated in a glistening sheen of sweat, and the lack of wind provided no relief. Some of the trees were beginning to change color, and they knew cooler air was imminent, but this heat was more stifling than anything they could remember. It was certain to be changed with only the most violent of weather, for at this time of year, the air was usually crisp, and chilled clear.
The herd had browsed to quite a distance from the area where Boaka and Ceptke had originally found the first signs of buffalo. When Shatomi and Boaka finally located the herd in the late twilight of the previous day, it was some distance from the meadow. The band had hoped that the herd would circle around to a closer grazing area where it seemed as though the particular low valley they were following would lead them, but as everyone followed the marked trail of the two scouts, they realized that the buffalo had strayed further away instead; it would be a long haul back to the meadow.
Shatomi and Boaka skirted the opening where they'd last seen the herd, and paralleled their meandering course eastward. The bison herd had climbed a steep incline and filtered through the woodlands, into the bottomlands of another green valley of rich grasses. The two scouts could see that the herd browsed contentedly for a time before some calamity had caused them to do what both the Paccus and Minnecou feared most. They had stampeded down the long valley. They could have run all night. They could still be running even now. They may also have split into many smaller herds.
Most unfortunate, though, was that they had bolted towards the southeast, and for as far as the eye could see, the green meadows were torn to expose brown dirt in the same direction. The two scouts doubled back to let everyone know what had happened. They could see the wrangling in Ketanka's eyes as he tried to think of some way that they could still get to the buffalo herd, and insure that they had at least enough food to begin the winter. They could be pinned up against the Dark Mountains for the duration. But it was too risky to head back towards the Snake people, and would be that much further to haul the meat.
The Paccus began to dissent when he announced that they would have to return empty-handed--they were very low on food. Then the Minnecou became upset when Ketanka suggested that they split their food in equal shares with the Paccus as soon as they returned to the meadow.
"If we let them go hungry, they would follow this herd into the snares of the Snake people," be bellowed. "How would they cover their trail with all these buffalo tracks, and soft dirt? They would leave a clear path and show the Snake people where we are headed."
Ketanka knew he had to establish a lasting bond between them, but he wasn't sure these Paccus would prove to be an asset, nor was he certain that an alliance was even possible. The buffalo herd had been spooked into a stampede and this proved to be an event that affected both tribes equally. If the two tribes were to become allies, Ketanka had to make sure both sides knew their futures were the same, and their chances for survival equal.
"Wanachan," he called. "Tell them we will share our food if they do not follow the buffalo."
She spoke to them briefly. The warriors shook their heads, moving closer to the torn trail.
"It is a trick," he warned them. "Snake warriors wait for them. There is plenty where we are going."
Wanachan spoke to them again. They stared in the direction of the buffalo trail. Boaka started back towards the Minnecou, and the others gradually followed.
They returned with a new feeling of camaraderie.Ketanka had temporarily achieved his goal of keeping the two tribes together. Something in the air, however, soon began to affect the good feelings, and although they weren't inclined to argue with each other, a sense of doom settled over the trudging procession that was returning empty-handed, and weaker from the oppressive heat. They knew that it was best to avoid meat in this heat, as it would be more gamey in taste and spoil quicker, but to come back with nothing could also be taken as a sign that they'd formed an alliance that was distasteful to the Creator.
The sun still cast a sharply defined shadow through the thickening haze, and even the leaves on the trees had wilted. A faint booming in the distant southeast suggested that relief was on the way, but it would be temporary; only a storm from the northwest would clear the air once and for all. A quickening breeze, however, began to blow strangely out of the north, yet they could all hear the storm approaching from the southeast.
They hurried towards their flimsy, makeshift lodges. When they came to a particularly elevated slope, they were afforded a good view in every direction, and while the wind continued to increase from the clearing skies to the north, the entire eastern and southern horizons had mounded up with a very sharply defined edge of billowing clouds, seemingly darker than the night. The sun became covered in the mid-morning sky and a jagged crown of brilliant gold outlined the face of the approaching storm. The first flash of lightning nearly blinded the bewildered band. After what seemed to be a long pause, a crack of thunder rolled over them like an unexpected wave; the ground shaking visibly in its wake. Several more quick flashes set the band to running.
As they converged upon the meadow, Kwoita had also led his small group into the encampment. The Wolf brothers and their Paccu companions ambled about in a sleepy daze. Huge, billowing, black clouds poured over the meadow and in the distant southeast, three enormous funnels wound their way towards the camp, throwing dust and trees high into the air. Scattered pellets of hail began to fall, but as the darkness poured itself upon the camp, they quickly grew to fist-sized chunks of ice, thumping into the earth and trees in a deafening crush. The collapsing shelters were quickly abandoned as the Paccu and Minnecou refugees fled to the protection of thick oaks near the stream. Some were knocked unconscious by the unusually large hail, and those who came to their rescue were battered.
Shamira held tightly onto the trunk of a large oak, pressing herself against the bark to avoid the pummeling hail. She could barely see over the embankment and onto the flat meadow where only a few shelters remained standing. In front of the clutter of shelters, Wanashta struggled at the limp form of Tamahna as he lay unconscious. Their young daughter, Washeena, lay a short distance away, bleeding and screaming as the hail rained down on her with loud thumps. Shamira ran out, scooped her up, and carried her back to the safety of the large oak. The muscular form of a Paccu raced onto the meadow and picked up Tamahna. Wanashta ran, screaming hysterically behind him, the large hail bouncing off her, seemingly unnoticed.
A pronghorned antelope leaped through the encampment, kicking over the last few shelters, and sending the remaining inhabitants scrambling for cover. The antelope flashed by Shamira, and as it soared through the air, she discovered that it was, in fact, a doe. Several members of the band shouted out for everyone to follow the animal. As they fled, stretching their deerskin shirts over their heads to deflect the hammering hail, the antelope's tracks showed clear and deep in the soft mud, and just as deep in the hard bedrock ledges that jogged throughout the hilly terrain.
They led straight into a white-cliffed valley and stopped abruptly at the edge of a deep, emerald-green pool. The hail receded as soon as they entered the valley, but a deafening roar chugged in from the southeast as treetops were ripped off behind them and the thick laurel was spread flat against the ground by the wailing wind. Ceptke dove into the pool and yelled for everyone to follow as he dragged a sputtering Tamahna under the surface. Shamira screamed over the roar of the wind to make sure Washeena understood not to breathe as they went underwater, then jumped into the shimmering, cold depths in search of the hidden entrance. The valley became black, with only three strangely glowing columns visible as they wound their way, bouncing off the walls of the white cliffs. The pool was suddenly filled with bodies, groping for an opening in the now pitch-black pool. A faint glow on the northwest edge lured them into the mouth of the elusive cavern, and a strong current quickly pulled them to its center.
Inside, a glow from each of the four entrances created a dim light, as well as a faint cross where the rays intersected. The last of those to make it into the cavern were at a loss to comprehend the light; everything was black when they had leapt into the pool. They searched frantically for loved ones and relatives, but some were missing and left to the fate of the strange and powerful tornadoes. They congregated on a smooth and strangely warm ledge, where there was little room to stand without falling off into the water, let alone elbowing their way around to search for loved ones.
A dull roar outside became increasingly louder and the bedrock, itself, began to tremor in a sickening hum against the screaming wind.
"The water is disappearing!" Quitkwa yelled frantically.
As soon as the water dipped below the tops of the entrances, the dim light inside of the cave vanished, and a deafening whir tossed the band violently about as they held tightly onto each other in the maelstrom that erupted from what remained of the water in the bottom of the pool. The water level rose rapidly and when the entrances were covered once again, the dim and soothing light returned and the violently spinning water became calm enough for the band to find their way back to the ledge, though they were badly bruised and battered from having been thrown against the walls of the cavern. But the lull was shortlived, and the wind started to roar again. When the walls began to quake and the water level dropped once again, they held tightly onto one another as the second tornado roared into the valley, its screeching mouth biting and sucking into the earth like a colossal upended leech, exposing the entrances once again.
They clenched each other in a death grip, waxing into a solid mass of taut human flesh like a huge boulder tossing in a whirlpool. Three times they were exposed to the power of the pillars and three times, all had endured of those who had the good fortune of making their way into the cavern. When the final assault from the violent columns of wind subsided, the band was left lying on the ledge. The pool became smooth as new ice, a throng of small birds sang cheerfully as they fluttered next to the roof of the cavern, landing fearlessly on the humans below.
"We should learn from these small creatures of the Creator and sing our praises as well," Ketanka bellowed. And as the Minnecou sang their thanks and praise, the Paccus joined in with their own songs, while thousands of small birds flew in circles next to the roof of the cavern with many different songs sung in unison. The light of the cross became increasingly brighter and as the water level began to drop once again, the band held tightly onto one another and sang even louder in the hopes that they would increase the Creator's strength and not expose the entrances to the evil outside. The water level continued to drop, and when it reached the tops of the entrances, brilliant light poured in, and the cross in the center of the pool became as a blinding, warm, white vision. Thousands of birds streamed out of the entrances. An exposed ledge left access to the northern exit of the cavern.
"It is a sign for us to head to the north," Kwoita exclaimed. The band slowly filtered out of the wondrous cavern.
Once outside, the battered survivors had to shield their eyes from the blinding sun as it reflected from the white, rain-soaked ledges of brilliant limestone. The oppressive air had vanished and a chill, crisp breeze invigorated the weary band. The laurel and surrounding trees of the valley, though, had disappeared entirely. They climbed the northern cliffs of the valley and as they reached the summit, the meadow where they'd previously camped came into view. The three powerful tornadoes had destroyed everything. There was no trace of any of the band's belongings or shelters, neither was there any sign of those who had not made it into the cavern. As they looked around, it became horribly apparent that neither tree, shrub, nor even blade of grass had been able to withstand the powerful grip of the whirling pillars. For as far as they could see, nothing remained but the rocks and ledges that had been torn, scraped and scattered haphazardly all the way to the horizon in every direction.
They had returned to the meadow, Ketanka thought, with the intention of splitting everything evenly among both tribes. But this had now been completed without bickering, deception or ill feelings. No one had more than the clothes on their backs, and many of these garments had become so tattered, they were barely worth keeping. Ketanka could see that no one had been able to hold onto their bows and arrows or even a small knife. The air had become chilled and they had neither hides nor trees for shelter. They had no food or weapons and there was no sign of life all the way to the horizon. The only exit accessible to them pointed to the cold regions of the north, and this at a time when winter was approaching. Neither Paccu nor Minnecou were experienced in surviving the extremes of winter this far north, and were generally laden with food and hides to bring along with them on their journeys southward.
There was no decision for them to make, however. Each understood they had been saved, and were it not for the Creator, they would have met with the same fate as those that had not made it to the cavern. North was the direction they were pointed. North was where they would go. They stumbled their way over the boulder-strewn terrain, and trudged across the desolate expanse towards the foothills of the Dark Mountains. This outlying region directly north of them, was a bountiful area, and far against the horizon, the humped peaks loomed in a dark, purplish-blue cloak, suggesting they'd been spared by the pillars that had eliminated all life before them.
A large wall of debris had been thrown clear to the edges of the stripped area, and the band was forced to climb over a pile higher than the peaks of the black cliffs near the lake, extending completely around the now barren plateau. They found a spot where the wreckage was heaped lowest and carefully climbed over and through the entanglement of trees, mud and boulders, picking out pliable and straight branches to use for bows and spears. Once over the mass of debris, they found the trees still standing, though thinned of branches and completely stripped of leaves for a great distance into the forest.
As they advanced further, the leaves had already started to change in the lower areas. They should be heading back towards the villages in the south if it was possible to get by the Snake people. They were not sure, though, if they were meant to remain here for the winter or to gather fresh food and weapons before their return southward. Ketanka felt that they should follow their instincts and return unless they were confronted with a sign to tell them otherwise. The Paccus, however, felt that to remain in one place until spring was the best way to survive--that if they gathered everything now and built lodges to withstand the cold, they would not get caught stranded on the trail.
Ketanka knew that they still had time before it would be absolutely too late to head southward. It was possible that even if they left immediately, they still could get bogged down in early snowstorms, but these were generally followed by warm spells, where the band would be in little danger of starvation, or freezing to death. Ketanka led them to the stream where they usually camped in this area, and sent all of the women off to find fish, wild onions, turtles, frogs and whatever edibles were available. He assembled the warriors and split them up into hunting parties to head out in every direction in search of meat and hides.
Ceptke and Boaka emerged as informal chiefs of the Paccus, dividing their own warriors into hunting and scouting parties. Wanachan was given charge of the Paccu women and was told by the two scouts that they would be spending the winter in this camp. If the Minnecou tried to interfere with their lodge building, she was simply not to translate any Minnecou demands or arguments in favor of leaving.
Ceptke and Boaka were in awe of their new surroundings. Come spring, they would take their warriors, find the Snake village, and then free their relatives from Quiktkoata. But they would return here. This was their new territory. There were no enemies this far north and game seemed plentiful. The only doubts they had were that once they freed the other Paccus, their alliance as chiefs might not be honored. But, after, if they were to rescue the captive Paccus and lead them back to a peaceful and bountiful land, did they not earn the right to lead their people, regardless of their blood lineage. They had learned through Wanachan that the Minnecou chose their chief by which warrior most people agreed to follow. Often enough, it did turn out to be a chief's son or brother, who would lead when the chief died, or was in sharp disagreement with the majority of the band. But just as often, the new chief had no direct blood ties to the old.
Ketanka went out with Quitkwa, Quebathe and Shatomi, while the Wolf brothers went out with their three sons in search of game. Kwoita remained close to the camp, helping the women fish, and find the large bullfrogs that provided little meat, but a viable source of sustenance should the hunting parties come back empty-handed, or stay on the trail for several days. The berries had already shriveled. Acorns, chestnuts and hickory nuts, however, had just begun to fall, and Paccu and Minnecou women alike gathered and spread them in the sand to dry in the sun.
Kwoita helped the Minnecou women make traps to snare trout that were swimming with the current. They tied pieces of small worms inside the traps, and when the trout entered, they could neither turn around nor swim backwards to free themselves. The Paccu women, under the direction of Wanachan, were digging up long and pliable roots near the bases of trees and vines, and tying them together to fashion long nets that could be cast into the stream and retrieved quickly enough to ensnare a few of the passing trout and suckers. They worked for quite some time, fashioning two such nets, while two of the Paccu women gathered nuts and herbs, searching for bullfrogs and slow moving turtles as they went along. The Paccu women moved much slower than the Minnecou. Kwoita could see they were somewhat bitter towards his own clan. The Paccus had lost two warriors and a young girl in the confusion of the sudden storm; the Minnecou had suffered no losses.
One of the Paccu women wandered away, and Shamira heard her sobbing. Powhantin went looking for her and Shamira followed to see if she could help soothe the woman's pain. When she found Powhantin cradling the distraught woman in her arms, she sat down beside them and put a caring hand on the woman's arm, but was quickly brushed aside. Powhantin spoke soothingly as if to reassure the young mother that Shamira shared in her grief, but she turned towards Shamira and yelled at her in a sharp Paccu reprisal. Shamira stood to put a more comfortable distance between them.
"My only wish is to help," Shamira whispered softly. The distraught woman spit on the ground and threw a handful of sand at her. A flash of anger erupted within, but Shamira held herself back. "I am no help here," she said, and walked off. The Paccu woman yelled sharply at her again, but Shamira ignored her tone, though her face set hard as she waded back into the stream to check the traps.
Wanachan wandered over to the stream's edge and spoke quietly to Shamira. "Do not be angry with her, Shamira. She sees that the Minnecou have lost no one, while her relatives are either dead, or in the hands of Snake people. She thought that she had at least been able to save the life of her daughter, but when she jumped into the pool, the child panicked and kicked free. That was the last she saw of her. She does not feel that the Minnecou understand what any of us Paccus have been through, let alone share in her latest grief."
"My father and my only brother are gone because of your people. Sequannah has been captured and my father has followed to try and free him," Shamira said. "It was my father who rescued these very Paccus who spit and throw dirt at me for trying to help them, when they could have been captives of the Snake people," Shamira rebuked without raising her voice.
"I know they haven't been very friendly," Wanachan sympathized. "And they may seem ungrateful, but they have been through very much pain. They worry about surviving the winter moons up here with nothing to start out with. And there is much danger of being captured by the Snake people if we try to go to our winter village. Patience and understanding are sometimes rewarded very generously," Wanachan stated, "but they are also sometimes harshly punished when they are abandoned prematurely. I know how they appear to the Minnecou, but if you accepted them as if they were truly a part of your own clan, you would understand their pain, and never abandon them. They are proud people, and just like the bear or mountain lion, they are best left somewhat alone when they are wounded. We are not as weak as we appear...we were ambushed, and outnumbered as well. Come spring, the Snake people will learn that they have made a mistake."
"You have but a handful of warriors left to fight these Snake warriors," Shamira softly laughed.
"Not all of the Paccus your father freed came with us. Two of them crossed the river and went far to the southwest where our sister clan lives," she whispered. "They will be here looking for us next spring if they are not already on their way to kill the Snake people before winter."
"They have enough warriors to fight the Snake people?" Shamira whispered.
"Perhaps with your clan, and if you, too, have sister clans, we may be able to free our relatives and send the Snake away from here. There is something I see here that could help you understand...if you believe. When I was a child, a great and powerful Washan lived among us who could make a blue sky turn dark with clouds and pour rain upon the dusty earth when the corn threatened to wither on the stalk. He foretold of many things to come, most of which we have first seen, but only later, understood. He would tell us that to understand before you see is most sacred and wise. He was a very good and just man. The Creator walked with our people always then. One night, when the Washan was sleeping, he walked from this life and into the next dream. But, during his last days, he spoke frequently of two peoples who were very different from us, one of whom would be our allies. Which ever one we chose to be our ally, the other would be banished from this land for countless generations. Our choice would determine how this land would be ruled for countless winters into the future, yet we would not be among the rulers, so we must choose wisely. I see the two very different peoples and I choose the Minnecou."
"I also see something happening here within your own clan. I can help," Wanachan looked sympathetic. "You are at a time when you have just become a woman," she stated patiently. "You will soon experience bad treatment from your own people. But do not worry, as your beauty fades with age, so will these problems."
"I do not find your conversation very comforting," Shamira said sarcastically. But, she could see that the old woman could be right, remembering how she was recently treated by the Wolf brothers' wives. However, Wanachan could also have been a witness to this incident...she did understand the Minnecou language.
"If you were homely, you would feel left out," she went on. "If you were plain, you would feel threatened by women like yourself," Wanachan went on. "So you see that everything is truly balanced. Your advantages are your disadvantages as well. Everything depends upon what is in your heart. Once this becomes clear, that is how you will be treated. Whether you have a good heart or a bad heart will soon become evident to those who are closest to you...the more you show of yours, the more you will see of theirs."
"The Paccus should see that I have a good heart," Shamira stated. "I have done nothing but try to help them and they have not shown good hearts to me."
"No," Wanachan agreed. "They have shown you hearts in pain."
Wanachan turned back to her small group of women. The Paccu woman who spat at Shamira was now gathering hickory nuts and removing the four-pieced shells. Though still sobbing, her anger had subsided. The young woman looked up at Shamira who was watching from a distance, and although she couldn't find it in her heart to smile, neither did she cast an expression of ill will. Shamira could see that Wanachan was right. All of the Paccus' expressions were similar to that of the grieving mother.
Kwoita watched as both groups of women gathered fish and food in their different ways. He now remembered seeing those nets when he was a young boy. He couldn't fathom, however, how he came to recognize Wanachan after all these years. She was just a small child when his Minnecou clan happened to run across a tribe of mountain dwelling people. The Minnecou had gotten stranded on the cold and windy plains during a year when the winter snows came early and deep. The two different tribes worked together throughout the winter hunting the buffalo herds that had been stranded with them. The Minnecou remained with the Paccus throughout the spring and into the early summer that year, and of the few members of either tribe that learned to speak the other's language, Wanachan became their best interpreter.
Kwoita could see that Wanachan resembled her childhood features in no way except one: her large owl-like eyes. He remembered her always following him when he would go fishing and he'd try to get rid of her, and her incessant talking. He would try to hunt some of the smaller creatures with his little bow, but she would always follow, asking the Minnecou word for this or that, and he never would see anything but small birds. But these small birds were always around the clans of every tribe and it was forbidden to kill any animal that would willingly and peacefully come into an encampment. Kwoita never found any game to hunt as long as this owl-eyed girl was on his trail. He would think of some of the wildest insults to rid himself of her, but they struck her as so funny, she only wanted to hear more. Kwoita enjoyed seeing the owl-eyed girl laughing and eventually he found himself creating these humorous insults wherever he went.
After all these years of not seeing her and nearly forgetting about her, he could not find one insult within his heart to throw at her. This was a woman who was not to be insulted, but he also sensed that she seemed to be disappointed that he didn't. Just to see her again, however, was a strange turn of events in Kwoita's eyes.
The Paccu women had barely gathered enough food to get them through the day when Wanachan drew several wide circles on the ground, and all of the Paccu women searched for large flat stones in the stream bed. They held onto these stones with both hands and began to tear away at the earth in the center of the circles.
"You don't have quite enough food there to be in need of a cache," Kwoita laughed. "Especially to try and fill holes that big."
"We're building lodges for winter!" Wanachan laughed. "These holes will be dug deep enough to keep the wind out...then we will cover them."
"Who said we were staying here?" Kwoita asked sarcastically.
"We have decided to stay!" Wanachan stated with a smile. "Now it is the Minnecous' turn to decide what they will do."
"The Minnecou will gather enough food to keep them alive before they make any decisions," Kwoita said knowingly.
"We already know there is plenty of food to get us through the winter, right here. Why look any further?"
