The Orenda Joseph Boyden (40 page)

In times of war, and especially in the aftermath, the question she begs is the one each of us needs to ask. How do you keep going when all that you love has been lost?

Or perhaps the question is this: What role did I play in the troubles that surround me?

Or maybe it’s this: Will I see my loved ones again?

For those with grander ambitions, perhaps it’s this: If success is measured in one way, then how should we measure defeat?

Aataentsic with her sparkling eyes watches as all of us around the fire debate this, even as our own eyes are drawn to what unfolds among the humans below.

THIS IS NOT MY FATHER’S DREAM

I’ve arrived at the village of the crows.

My father Bird’s dream, the one that said I leave him for this place, this is the dream that sent me away. The illness of our own village raged when he dreamed it, and the morning I left, the bodies that lay piled high outside the longhouses had begun to thaw. The mean boy, the good-looking boy, Carries an Axe, he accompanied me on the walk to the crow village. And just as Gosling had promised, as soon as we walked out the gates, she was there, waiting for us on the path. I felt torn. I was looking forward to being alone with this boy for the day. But the idea scared me, too.

Maybe she came to watch over us. After all, I’m convinced she can see through me as easily as if she peers through clear water. She knows what I feel for this boy, the heat mingled with ice. And when, halfway to the crows’ village, a blizzard tore up from the Sweet Water Sea, so brutal the winds pushed us to our knees, I was glad she was with us. I think that if she hadn’t come we would have perished in that brutal early-spring storm.

The snow blew sideways and the world disappeared in a white sting. I begged Gosling to let us stop and rest but she ignored me, took over the cutting of the snowshoe trail for the three of us when Carries an Axe could no longer do it. I knew it embarrassed him that a woman showed us the way, but all either of us could do was hold on
to Gosling’s robe like children as she pushed ahead. I knew later that if we’d stopped to rest, we would have frozen to death.

When we finally crawled, our faces painted in frost from the wind, into that village of the crows, I saw that my father’s dream wasn’t right. This wasn’t a place of safety or of plenty. Dawning of Day’s longhouse stank with the same sickness that ravaged our home, and the hairy ones from that faraway land glared at me and licked their lips but wouldn’t offer food.

At least Christophe Crow remained the same as we stumbled through the gates, our lips blue. He allowed me to stay in Dawning of Day’s longhouse but sent Gosling and Carries an Axe to another past the palisades.

And here we are now as the snow finally becomes water, trickling into the creeks that in turn pour into the rivers that in turn rush into the Sweet Water Sea. The crows are very particular as to how the day passes, with every part of it arranged for us in advance. They expect us to be in the place called the chapel every morning just as the sun rises and they talk to us and to their great voice until our stomachs groan with hunger. After that, they allow us a small morning meal of ottet. We’re left to wander about for a while, and I try to avoid the ones who have come over to assist the crows because I don’t like how they look at me. I’ve already had the bad experience with one of them in their village so long ago, and I won’t trust these men again.

In the afternoon we’re expected to sit like children in front of a strange thing that they call Captain of the Day. Every long while, Gabriel Crow commands it to speak and it calls out. At first it was entertaining but I can see most of us here have grown bored with the trick, all except the one who is supposed to be my brother, Hot Cinder. He still gawks with amazement. Once the Captain has called out, Gabriel Crow tells us that it’s told him to send us home. We go back to our longhouses then and keep each other company till it’s time for bed before the next day comes and it’s repeated all over again. I look forward to heading home.

Gosling couldn’t stand this place and left not long after she arrived. She promised that she’d return for Carries an Axe and me, though, as soon as it was safe to go back. There is illness here and it has taken some lives, but it’s far worse where we live, and so I’m forced to wait it out in this strange place. The others who are here, a couple handfuls of them, come from different places for different reasons. A few Anishnaabe wait out the winter before they return to their villages, and the Wendat here have mostly lost their families to the illness and have no other way to support themselves. There’s a sadness hard to ignore.

In my boredom, I try to get to know Carries an Axe better. He’s not so cocky without his friends around. I want to ask him if they survived but I fear for the answer. Instead we walk through the strange village, impressed by how some of the buildings are partly made with stone, others with thick wood of trees that have been cut to all look the same. Rather than live in large groups like us, these ones prefer their own much smaller residences. The crows continue to stay alone, and the different odd-looking and odd-smelling men live in small groups of friends in their little homes. To me, they mostly look the same with their hairy faces and sunken eyes, their skin the colour of a withered squash blossom. When they talk, I can see many of them have few teeth, and compared to the body of Carries an Axe, they look weak and pathetic. Their clothes, too, make them look the same, with their thin, dirty shirts and strange hide they wear that covers all of their legs and asses, even now that the snow’s melted. Carries an Axe likes to make fun of their appearance. He’s even claimed that he’s held some of their clothes in his own hands and that their clothes aren’t made from the skins of animals at all but instead are created by old witches with bottoms like spiders who spin out their thread that other witches then weave. I laugh at his silliness, and when he smiles, I can feel it low in my stomach.

This morning, we skip the crows talking in the chapel and wander out into the woods. We won’t be fed by them for not showing up, but
Carries an Axe says he’s been setting rabbit snares along some runs he found.

“We shouldn’t have to rely on them, Snow Falls,” he says. “I’m a good hunter. I can look after us.”

When he says the word
us
, I feel my face heat up, but then I remind myself he speaks of everyone in the longhouses. I wish he stayed in mine, but Christophe Crow says Carries an Axe needs to accept the great voice if he wishes that comfort. Carries an Axe just laughs, and I know this angers Christophe Crow. But the Crow should be careful. Carries an Axe stays here to protect me to make good with my father. He doesn’t need these crows and their ways. I’ve seen Carries an Axe’s temper. In the chapel when Christophe Crow begins to seethe like rapids, his eyes darkening and his cheeks turning bright when he speaks of all the ways the Wendat and our world is wrong, I look at Carries an Axe and see that he seethes even more.

The two of us walk the trail leading to the river, and I recognize a few of the tiny trails running from ours that the hares use just as we people do to make their way through the forest. Soon it’ll be planting time and I wonder if there are still enough of us left living to work the fields back home, and in turn I wonder if the sickness will continue there until they’re all dead and if I will be forced to live in the strange village of the crows forever. But then, like sun breaking through the cloud, I see the hare up ahead lying on its side, the snare tight about its neck, the animal’s eyes closed.

Carries an Axe grins as he leans down and unties the thin cord from the saplings on each side of the trail. He weighs the hare in his hands and looks up. “This will be our feast tonight,” he says.

“Some feast,” I say. The hare is a large male and will feed more than just us. “You’ll have to do better than that to impress me.”

“Well, then,” he says, handing me the hare to carry, “let’s see how many others I’ve managed to take today.”

I take the snare cord from his hand and tie it about the animal’s feet
so that I can drape it over my back. “Yes,” I say, “let’s see what you can snare today.”

By afternoon, we’ve taken two more rabbits and have been busy creating a stone weir to try to lure any spawning fish travelling up this smaller creek to take that route, just narrow enough I can straddle the bank and the rocks we’ve placed. With two more saplings, these ones cut long and sharpened at one end, Carries an Axe and I stand, me behind him, our weapons poised for the flash of their darting past. I try and try but my timing is off today, and instead of catching one I end up only blunting my spear on the stones at the bottom of the creek.

Growing bored, I stop trying and instead watch Carries an Axe in front with his back still to me, bent at the waist with his spear poised, clearly focused on getting one. I reach forward with my spear and poke him in his rear end. He jolts, slipping from his rock perch and landing in the water. He splashes about, trying to climb back out. I realize he’s struggling and I stop laughing. He raises an arm to me and cries out that he can’t swim and I need to help him. Moving as quick as I can on the slippery rocks, I reach for his hand, and just as I grip it his face turns from panic to laughter and he pulls me on top of him, the shock of the cold making me cry out.

He stands. The water barely comes up to his waist. Standing as well, I reach out and slap him.

“Why’d you do that?” he asks, looking like a hurt little boy.

Instead of answering, I climb out of the water, my teeth chattering, and stomp onto the bank. I’m going to run back to the crow village but then realize I might get lost. I sit on the ground like a child, feeling foolish even as I do it.

Carries an Axe climbs out, too. “You started it,” he says.

I look up at him. He’s right. Instead of letting my anger go any further, I stand. “I’m cold,” I say, shivering, my arms wrapped around myself.

Carries an Axe looks at me, his eyes confused. I watch them slowly light up. “Let me warm you, then,” he says. He walks to me carefully,
as if he’s approaching an animal he’s not seen before. When he’s close, he opens his arms, and I do, too. The skin of his chest is warm against mine.

—

CHRISTOPHE CROW
is angry with me. “You’ve not been coming in the mornings to listen to the Great Voice,” he says. Gabriel stands behind him as if to try and catch me should I bolt. We’re in the longhouse, and Aaron and I had been sitting by the fire laughing about when he saved my raccoon from the old woman who wanted to cook him. Aaron isn’t laughing anymore, though. He looks like he’s been caught doing something he knows he shouldn’t be.

“You will come tomorrow,” Gabriel says. I don’t like this one. I refuse to answer him and just keep my eyes on the fire.

Christophe Crow says something angrily to Gabriel in their language and then kneels to me. “Snow Falls,” he says. “You and I have known one another for a long time now. We’ve been through much together. In some ways, I may even owe you my life.”

I continue to stare into the fire.

“Snow Falls,” he says. “I beg of you to look at me.”

Not wanting to, I turn to him, his face close to mine. In the glow it almost looks like he has tears in his eyes.

“You are like a relation to me,” Christophe Crow continues. “We’ve made such progress and as soon as it appears that you are ready to live forever in the good place, you turn your back to me.” He continues to look at me, his eyes pleading. “Come back tomorrow so that you may hear what the Great Voice has to say.”

“And what if I don’t?” I ask.

“Let’s not be like this,” Christophe says. I see that he looks at Aaron. “I know that Aaron would very much like for you to come back.”

I want to tell the Crow that I am for Carries an Axe now, and he is with me. I, too, look at Aaron. His eyes are trying to tell me something.
It’s all making me uncomfortable. “I don’t want,” I begin but then stop. “I want to go home,” I say.

“You will go home soon if that’s what you desire,” Christophe says. “After all, Bird is a powerful headman, isn’t he? I can’t keep you against your will.” Christophe looks at Aaron and then at me again. “But I’m not sure how much of a home will be left when you return.”

The words dig into me. “My home is still there,” I say.

“Many have died in that place, though,” Christophe says. “It won’t be the same. Keep in mind it was Bird who sent you here. He knows this place is safe, that it’s watched over by the Great Voice.”

“That wasn’t his dream.”

“His dream wasn’t to send you here?” Christophe asks.

“It was, but …” I search for the words. “He didn’t send me here so that I could be protected by the great voice. Those weren’t his words.”

“Then why did he send you here?” Christophe asks. I can feel Gabriel’s and Aaron’s eyes on me.

“To get me away from the sickness of the village,” I say.

“And the sickness of your village was a hundred times worse than here in ours, wasn’t it?” Christophe asks.

I want to get up and walk away. The Crow is twisting my words, is twisting my father’s dream.

“I’ll tell you what,” Christophe says, standing from his crouch. “After the planting, come with Gabriel and Aaron and me to the village of your cousins, to the Arendahronnon. Join us on the trip when the spring is almost summer.”

“And what if I don’t?” I ask.

“Come with us and watch what we do,” Christophe says. “That’s all I ask. Join us so that we may introduce the Great Voice to your cousins. And when we are done, you can go home if that is what you wish.”

I stand up now, too. “I’ll travel with you,” I say. “But then I’ll head home.” To show him I mean what I say, I quickly walk away, brushing past the crow Gabriel as I go.

—

WE’VE BEEN WALKING
most of the day, Aaron leading. He knows this land well. He now assures us we’re close to the village of the Arendahronnon. I hope so. I’m tired. Gabriel and Christophe Crow are having a hard time keeping up, and so we walk slower than we like. Hot Cinder joined us on the journey despite my not wanting him to. But he’s been good so far, talking little and just focusing on the travel. I’d wanted Carries an Axe to come, but Christophe grew angry when I asked. I was about to tell Christophe I wouldn’t go, either, but Carries an Axe assured me he’d follow from a distance and not let anything happen to me. “Go,” he said, kissing me. “We’ll make it an adventure. I want to test what kind of powers these crows have out in the forest. I’ll follow you, and none of them will even know.”