The Porcupine Year (8 page)

At last, they were left treading water. Everything was gone. The canoes were quickly vanishing and only Zozed's thin wail could be heard. The sound of that little cry struck them all to their hearts. Omakayas shouted over and over to Zahn, but there was no answer. The canoes were only black dots. Turning to one another, swimming back in shock, the family saw that in one instant they had gone from having everything they needed, to having nothing.

And worse than that, Deydey was blinded by the flash of powder from the gun.

“H
old still,” said Nokomis impatiently. She was bathing Deydey's face and eyes with warm tea brewed from the needles and roots of balsam trees. They had made camp on the north shore of the big lake. Now there was no question that they would have to wait until freeze-up to cross the great waabashkiki, the swamp that stretched before them. It was terrible to see Deydey stumbling about, his eyes wrapped, or hanging on to the arm of Yellow Kettle. He still could not see, but Nokomis made him lie still as often as she could, bathed his eyes, and counseled him to have patience.

During the robbery, Fishtail had grabbed his gun, but
had little ammunition. The women still had their knives. Omakayas had been rolling up her blanket, so she had something to keep her warm, which she now shared with Bizheens. Mama had her one kettle and a rice knocker. Old Tallow had her dogs. At that moment, Old Tallow and her dogs were out hunting with a spear she'd made by tying her knife to a heavy stick. She was determined to bring down a bear for its meat and fur. Old Tallow missed the coat that became her blanket, her shelter once the wind grew cold. That coat had been made of furs and velvets, calico patches, and patterned wool blankets. It had been Old Tallow's favorite possession and she vowed that if she ever found Albert LaPautre she would skin him alive and add his pelt to her collection.

Omakayas knew she actually meant that. She shuddered but felt in her own heart there was no revenge harsh enough for what LaPautre had done.

“What will they do with Zahn, with Zozed?” she asked every day.

Everyone had a different idea. Deydey was sure that LaPautre would try to ransom them off to a trader and say that he had rescued them. Fishtail had whispered his fear that they would be sold, as servants, to some farm family. Nokomis believed that they would be rescued somehow. Everyone had a conflicting opinion, but their hearts were wrenched. Angeline, especially, had grown fond of the children. She and Fishtail had planned to adopt them in a
ceremony once they reached a new home place.

“At least,” said Angeline, “if they were sold to a trader or a priest, they would not starve.” Right now, that was a distinct possibility for them all. They had faced starvation before, but never without their guns and traps. Omakayas could not imagine what would happen to them if Deydey's eyes did not heal. His cheeks were still blackened, his forehead still bruised green and dark yellow. The worst thing was, the question “Why?” had no answer. LaPautre had been ridiculous, pompous, and an embarrassment sometimes. He'd neglected his family and believed himself a famous medicine man, he'd been known to steal a dried fish or two, but he had never been cruel.

“Perhaps the ishkodewaaboo has destroyed his heart,” Yellow Kettle said.

“And I'll be sure to destroy the rest of him,” said Old Tallow.

Omakayas finished weaving a length of basswood twine and set out into the low-growing woods around their camp to set rabbit snares. She wasn't having much luck, and the sight of fat rabbits running here and there, not cooking in their one remaining stew pot, infuriated her. There were lots of rabbits this year, but could she catch one? It appeared not.

She bent over, looking closely at the ground for rabbit tracks or droppings. Quill, who now wore the raggedest of
skins and old makizinan, passed her without a laugh. He didn't even tease her about her lack of skill. She figured things must be pretty bad if Quill didn't even laugh at her.

“Aren't you even going to make fun of my snares?” she asked.

Quill crouched next to her and examined her work, but said nothing. He smelled better now that his porcupine was too big to stay on top of his head. The quilling of LaPautre's face had been its last valiant act.

“Where is your warrior animal?” asked Omakayas.

“Recovering its strength,” said Quill in a sad voice.

The porcupine had not been the same since it was flung through the air. It was still in shock, and didn't want to leave its human beings. The porcupine stayed in camp munching the soft inner bark of aspen that Quill gathered for it every morning. As it ate, he stroked its nose and murmured words of praise.

“I'm going to catch a beaver,” said Quill, still refusing to criticize Omakayas's work. He was turning into a very good hunter and had fashioned a limber bow and swift arrows to replace those that were stolen. He already had taken four beaver pelts, and Omakayas had stretched them. They were making a coat for Old Tallow. If Omakayas could snare some rabbits, she'd make a rabbit blanket for Nokomis. It was already getting cold at night and snow was in the air.

With freezing hands, Omakayas set ten snares, just
where she hoped rabbits would jump. Then she gathered some highbush cranberries. They would be good with venison, if only Fishtail could get a deer.

Such were their lives now! They had planned to reach Auntie Muskrat's camp rich with furs, their packs bursting with manoomin and dried weyass, pemmican, and seeds. Now they were reduced to scratching for survival.

PLACE OF MEDICINES

W
hen Nokomis realized that her medicines and her garden had been stolen, she had actually cried. The seeds were her life's work—each was selected over the years from the corn or potato or squash with the vigorous qualities Nokomis coveted. There was no replacing such a treasure. Omakayas had never seen her grandmother weep before. Old Tallow's face had boiled into a thundercloud, for she so loved Nokomis. Old Tallow had stomped from the camp to deal with her anger. For a time, she could be heard thrashing around and growling in the bush.

“Granddaughter,” said Nokomis one morning, “come with me and gather. At least we have everything we need right here.”

She gestured at the swamp before them. “What you see before you is a great medicine bundle.” She and
Omakayas walked out into the waabashkiki and set to work then, assembling all the medicines that they would need for the winter.

They gathered baakwaanatig, the staghorn sumac, whose furry red berries made a strengthening drink when added to water. Nokomis dried great clumps of these berries as well, for they would stop bleeding. They picked bagizowim, mugwort, which was a good heart medicine. They dug the roots of ininiwa'inzh, milkweed, and collected the leaves of oja'cidji'bik, which they would use to heal bruises, and the roots that cured boils. They collected wiishkobi-mashkosi, sweetgrass, and wiikenh, sweet flag, for colds and coughs, toothaches, cramps, fevers. They brought back great armfuls of reeds for Angeline to use in weaving mats.

Omakayas spent each day of that moon in the great medicine swamp with Nokomis. In her later years, she would realize that this was when she had received the greatest part of her education. She learned all that Nokomis knew. This was how she became a healer.

A FAINT LIGHT

T
here was frost on the ground in the mornings now. One day, Omakayas walked out into the swamp to check her snares and saw that Quill was gently adjusting each one of them.

He was helping her without telling her!

Omakayas turned away, not sure whether to be grateful
or ashamed. Later on, when she checked the rabbit snares, she saw that Quill's adjustments had been smart, and two rabbits, waaboozoog, were caught.

Omakayas pulled the loops off each waabooz, reset the snares trying to copy Quill's method, and brought the animals home to Mama.

“Howah!” Bizheens was adventurous and tumbled everywhere around the camp. Yellow Kettle worried constantly that he would walk into the fire, or fall into deep water. As often as she could, she gave him some little task, but he was lively as a kitten and slipped away whenever he could to inspect his surroundings. Fishtail was using every one of his bullets wisely. He'd brought home a deer and a runty moose, and Mama had made a new set of skin clothes for Bizheens, as well as makizinan lined with rabbit fur. He, at least, had warm clothing.

Mama took the rabbits gratefully from Omakayas. Her temper had remarkably improved during this crisis. It seemed that she was firmer with herself and more in control when her little family was in danger. And she was very worried about Deydey. She nursed him with tenderness.

“I didn't catch the waaboozoog. It was Quill,” said Omakayas. “He followed me, reset my snares, and the rabbits hopped right in. Why is he so good at it?”

“Maybe his porcupine told him a few things,” said Mama jokingly.

Omakayas wondered if there wasn't something to what
Mama said. She walked over to the porcupine, who was, as usual, sitting in the corner of the camp clearing with a pile of bark before him. He was looking fat and worried. Omakayas sat down on the ground near him.

“Gaag,” she said, “what is my brother's secret?”

The porcupine looked at her with sympathetic, shining black eyes, but of course said nothing. Omakayas touched its nose and it sniffed at her gently.

“Why don't you ask your brother his secret?” asked Mama. But the very thought of asking Quill for his advice was…well, it was just impossible! She was the older sister. She could hardly ask for her younger brother's help. She was supposed to be the one with the knowledge.

Omakayas kept setting her snares every morning, and during the day, she was sure, her brother went out and made his clever adjustments. Now there were always a few rabbits caught. Omakayas thought that she would learn by looking at exactly what he had done in her absence, but once the rabbit had struggled in the loop it was hard to tell how Quill had set it.

She went to Deydey. As he rested, in darkness, he liked to have her come and talk to him and sing to him. He was using his knife to carve out a new wooden chess set. His old one, much treasured, had been one of those things stolen. He was carving by feel, and doing a good job of it. Little horses, towers, pawns, and robed bishops were lined up next to his bed of springy fir boughs. He reached his
hand out and Omakayas held it as she sat beside him.

“Deydey, can you help me snare rabbits as well as my brother? Can you give me your knowledge?”

“You must think like a rabbit,” he said.

Omakayas was silent. What did this mean?

“My daughter,” said Deydey, “I have had a great deal of time to reflect as I lie here. One of the things that I regret most, stolen from us by LaPautre, was my medicine bag. I was keeping your feathers in that bag. Also, the stone pipe that belonged to my father and his father before him. I will have to make a new pipe. I will have to travel to the land of the Bwaanag in order to trade for their stone, or I will have to use the black stone that we find farther north. I miss that pipe of my fathers very greatly. And I also miss the four feathers that you gave me. You were so brave in taking them. I meant to use those in a ceremony.”

“What ceremony?” asked Omakayas.

“A ceremony that would honor my daughter when she became a young woman,” said Deydey.

“But Angeline has already…,” Omakayas began. Then she realized that Deydey was talking about his younger daughter. Her face grew warm and she couldn't speak. Deydey sounded sad when he spoke again.

“My girl, if I do not recover, I want you to live a strong life.”

“Don't talk that way,” said Nokomis, walking into the
birchbark house. “You are going to get well if you just lie still!”

“I am growing weak here!” said Deydey irritably.

“You are allowing your face and eyes to heal.”

Deydey sighed, and as Nokomis unwrapped the cloth and the medicines from his face, he said grumpily, “You're going to dose me again, I suppose.”

“Yes,” said Nokomis, “now lie still while I wash your eyes with my balsam tea.”

“Balsam tea, balsam tea, that's all I hear. Your great cure-all!”

Nokomis tenderly poured the warm tea from a clean birchbark makak that she made each time she prepared new tea. Deydey quietly bore her ministrations.

“Bekaa,” he said, blinking as she lifted the cup away. “Bekaa, Nookoo!”