The Porcupine Year by Louise Erdrich

The old woman had taken great strides. She had leaped rocks, outpaced her dogs. Shemust have been carried by the sight of the bear, thought Omakayas. Or perhaps by the bear itself. She could see, here and there, a giant track of the creature that Old Tallow was intent upon slaying.
    The wind vibrated in the trees with a dismal growl. Omakayas knew it was the spirit of the wiindigoo and she found the strength to growl back. She asked the bear woman to help find Old Tallow, and so spare the old woman, although she had killed so many of her kind.
    But first Omakayas came upon her brother. He was curled in the snow, too weak to move.
    â€œGo on, go on, my sister!” His voice was thin.
    She came upon one of Old Tallow’s dogs, stone dead and frozen. It had dropped from weakness. Then another dog, bloody, with Fishtail dragging it slowly behind him.
    Omakayas knew that Fishtail was going to bring the dog back to eat.
    â€œNo,” she said, “come with me. We must find our grandmother.”
    â€œYes,” said Fishtail. “You are right, little one.”
    He dropped the dog’s carcass and tried to follow Omakayas, who now moved with a strength that was not her own. She saw that her feet were taking step after step. The wind had ceased to cut her. She felt light now and warm. She did not notice when Fishtail dropped behind her, stumbled in the snow, and fell. She was following the tracks of the old woman she so loved. And from their swiftsureness, she could tell that Old Tallow was closing in on the bear.
    And there it was.
    Around the corner, in a clearing red with blood, Omakayas saw a sight that would remain with her all of her life.
    She blinked, then rubbed her eyes. Old Tallow and the bear were standing in the clearing together. They were clenched, upright, in an unbelievable embrace.
    Omakayas put her arms out and stumbled toward them in joy, crying out.
    â€œTallow! Tallow! My mother! My grandmother!”
    She was sobbing with relief, then sobbing with a dawning realization. The huge bear’s face was caught in a snarl, its chest pierced by Old Tallow’s spear. Old Tallow’s dead eyes stared into the eyes of the dead bear. She was caught by its tremendous claws, which had raked into her neck. They had died together, upright, frozen in their struggle.
    Omakayas found herself at Old Tallow’s feet, holding the edge of her tattered dress. Darkness took her. Later, much later, she heard voices. Felt herself carried. Tasted a heavy broth. But for a long time she knew nothing. She did not want to emerge. She wanted to stay in the darkness with the old woman she had loved.

TWELVE
AADIZOOKAANAG
    T he family had been so close to starving that they had to feed themselves slowly. Yellow Kettle started them out with soup and broth, and gradually they began to eat the meat of the bear as well. Each day, as the food entered her body, Omakayas felt herself growing just a little stronger. But nothing could fill the absence that had opened around her heart. She wanted Old Tallow back, and every morning when she woke and realized that Old Tallow was gone, she turned her face to the wall in despair.
    Nokomis had realized that Omakayas would be the one most affected by the old woman’s death, and she had made her a spirit bundle to comfort her. She had taken alock of Old Tallow’s iron gray hair and wrapped it in some of the bear’s fur. Omakayas would keep this bundle with her for a year and offer it food and water when she missed Old Tallow. It would help her with her sadness.
    Nokomis told stories to keep up their spirits. She told stories to teach them, to heal them. Nokomis could tell the stories of the old times, the aadizookaanag, because the frogs and snakes were frozen in the ground. So as the little family mourned and recovered, she told stories to help them gain their strength and laugh again.
    â€œNookoo,” said Omakayas one night, “remember how you promised to