land of my people, and there I’ll be given back to them and hopefully be avenged.
He and Fox and the men of their longhouse focus on the construction of their new home, and I’m impressed by how quickly it’s going up. Tomorrow before dawn we’ll walk back to the old village and gather more of our possessions only to turn around the morning after that and drag them here. Some men dig holes and place the palisades while others build their new homes. By the looks of it, this village will be as large as the last one, maybe bigger. I work hard at remembering all the little details, anything that might help my father’s war-bearers when they come to destroy it. I look for the entrances and the weaknesses in the palisades, and where the most important longhouses are. Bird won’t send me away without paying for it.
He and the others who will be going on the voyage work especially hard, up before dawn and still building and chopping and dragging until well after dark. They need to do much before heading off, but instead of being short-tempered and exhausted, they seem verycontent, even happy. Maybe it’s because of the new location that’s been chosen, which I have to admit is beautiful. A river runs beside it into the Sweet Water Sea, and already fields are being carved out of the thick forest. There will be much firewood for a long time, and I can tell this place will be plentiful with deer and moose and smaller game.
This morning, as we leave the new village and head back to the old one, Bird and Fox stop at a large pit that’s being dug. I wonder what it is. Men are already busy building scaffolding beside it.
“Word has gone out to all the other villages?” Fox asks.
Bird nods. “They’re preparing the fire for the Kettle. I’ve been waiting for this day since I lost them.”
“It might bring you a bit of peace,” Fox says.
Instead of answering, Bird walks down the path and into the forest, the rest of us following.
—
EARLY SUMMER ARRIVES , and there is still much work to be done, I can see, but the old fields will grow through one last summer to supplement these new ones. I wake up hoping this day will be the day we leave. People seem anxious. They’re planning some kind of ceremony, but no one speaks of it out loud and I’m too mad at Bird to ask him.
Men continue to dig the pit and it’s now almost as long as a long-house and as deep as one is high. The scaffold around it seems to be finished. Ladders go up to it, and so it must be some sort of stage. I hope to see whatever it is that’s coming.
When I walk back to the new longhouse, Bird and Fox are wearing their tobacco pouches and each carries a small sack of ottet. They’re clearly about to travel somewhere. Bird looks at me and actually smiles. “We have something important to do these next days,” he says. He’s about to walk out with Fox but then turns back to me. “The whole of our village is involved, and so if you’d like to join us, you are welcome to.”
I shake my head. For a tiny moment it looks like he’s been hurtby my response. He turns and walks with Fox out of the longhouse. I watch them from the doorway and, once they’re far enough away, I follow.
All day long, so many people use the path that leads to the old village that I don’t even have to hide from Bird. Clearly, there’s one last important thing to do in that place. The day is warm and the light pours down through the trees as we near the Sweet Water Sea. I feel something I’ve never felt as I walk along with a greater number than I’ve ever walked with before, few of them even talking, just the sound of so many feet and so many people breathing. I feel like part of this group. When we break out of the forest and onto the trail on the cliffs above the great sparkling water, I tell myself that I’m not part of them. I’m not. But still, I want to know what it is that I’m now a part of. I want to know why we’re walking back to the old village as
He and Fox and the men of their longhouse focus on the construction of their new home, and I’m impressed by how quickly it’s going up. Tomorrow before dawn we’ll walk back to the old village and gather more of our possessions only to turn around the morning after that and drag them here. Some men dig holes and place the palisades while others build their new homes. By the looks of it, this village will be as large as the last one, maybe bigger. I work hard at remembering all the little details, anything that might help my father’s war-bearers when they come to destroy it. I look for the entrances and the weaknesses in the palisades, and where the most important longhouses are. Bird won’t send me away without paying for it.
He and the others who will be going on the voyage work especially hard, up before dawn and still building and chopping and dragging until well after dark. They need to do much before heading off, but instead of being short-tempered and exhausted, they seem verycontent, even happy. Maybe it’s because of the new location that’s been chosen, which I have to admit is beautiful. A river runs beside it into the Sweet Water Sea, and already fields are being carved out of the thick forest. There will be much firewood for a long time, and I can tell this place will be plentiful with deer and moose and smaller game.
This morning, as we leave the new village and head back to the old one, Bird and Fox stop at a large pit that’s being dug. I wonder what it is. Men are already busy building scaffolding beside it.
“Word has gone out to all the other villages?” Fox asks.
Bird nods. “They’re preparing the fire for the Kettle. I’ve been waiting for this day since I lost them.”
“It might bring you a bit of peace,” Fox says.
Instead of answering, Bird walks down the path and into the forest, the rest of us following.
—
EARLY SUMMER ARRIVES , and there is still much work to be done, I can see, but the old fields will grow through one last summer to supplement these new ones. I wake up hoping this day will be the day we leave. People seem anxious. They’re planning some kind of ceremony, but no one speaks of it out loud and I’m too mad at Bird to ask him.
Men continue to dig the pit and it’s now almost as long as a long-house and as deep as one is high. The scaffold around it seems to be finished. Ladders go up to it, and so it must be some sort of stage. I hope to see whatever it is that’s coming.
When I walk back to the new longhouse, Bird and Fox are wearing their tobacco pouches and each carries a small sack of ottet. They’re clearly about to travel somewhere. Bird looks at me and actually smiles. “We have something important to do these next days,” he says. He’s about to walk out with Fox but then turns back to me. “The whole of our village is involved, and so if you’d like to join us, you are welcome to.”
I shake my head. For a tiny moment it looks like he’s been hurtby my response. He turns and walks with Fox out of the longhouse. I watch them from the doorway and, once they’re far enough away, I follow.
All day long, so many people use the path that leads to the old village that I don’t even have to hide from Bird. Clearly, there’s one last important thing to do in that place. The day is warm and the light pours down through the trees as we near the Sweet Water Sea. I feel something I’ve never felt as I walk along with a greater number than I’ve ever walked with before, few of them even talking, just the sound of so many feet and so many people breathing. I feel like part of this group. When we break out of the forest and onto the trail on the cliffs above the great sparkling water, I tell myself that I’m not part of them. I’m not. But still, I want to know what it is that I’m now a part of. I want to know why we’re walking back to the old village as
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