Wabi by Joseph Bruchac Page A

but with the claws of my owl feet.
    My next challenge was moving the game I caught. Big animals cannot just be picked up in your claws and flown away with. Luckily this new body of mine was strong. Dragging worked well, although it took more time than I had planned.
    As a result, it was not until the evening, as the last light was disappearing in the sunrise direction, that I walked into Dojihla’s village. I was the last of the hunters to return. They were all lined up before the big fire, each with the game they had killed piled in front of them. Their take ranged from the two deer and the beaver proudly displayed by Fat Face (a better hunter than I had expected) to the single woodchuck at the feet of an embarrassed-looking Bitahlo.
    Dojihla was eyeing them all with equal displeasure. But when I stepped into the firelight and she looked at me, it seemed as if I saw a different expression come over her face.
    I dropped the two big bucks I’d been carrying, one over each shoulder. Both were larger than the two Fat Face had brought.
    â€œTwo deer,” Dojihla’s father said.
    â€œPlump ones,” said her mother with a big smile.
    Dojihla said nothing.1
    Oops, I thought. Not a good sign. But I refused to let worry 1 get in my way—or Fat Face, who had smiled at me when I walked into the circle of light. A strange thing to do, smiling at a rival like that. He was now being poked in the back by the older woman behind him. I knew her to be his mother from the conversations they had the evening before.
    â€œSpeak up, son,” she commanded.
    â€œI, uh, I have two deer and a beaver,” Fat Face said. “That should make me the, uh, winner?” To my further surprise, his voice was unenthusiastic.
    I raised my hand. “Wait,” I said. Then I walked back into the woods.
    When I returned, it was with another game animal over my shoulders. I placed it next to the two deer. As I walked back into the forest I thought about the look I had seen on people’s faces. Perhaps carrying a full-grown elk was a little too impressive. So this time when I returned, I did so dragging in the big bull moose by its antlers. When I straightened up I saw that everyone was staring openmouthed.
    Wowadam was the first to recover. “Wabi has won,” he said, placing a hand on my shoulder.
    â€œHe will be my son-in-law,” Dojihla’s mother said. She wrapped her arms around me in a warm embrace. That made me feel good. However, the fact that she whispered “Be brave” in my ear did cause me a bit of disquiet.
    Once again, Dojihla had nothing to say. Her eyes were not looking at me, but through me. A little shiver of uncertainty went down my spine.
    But things went well at first. The other young men came over to congratulate me. They did not look disappointed.
    â€œYou are indeed a good hunter,” Fat Face said.
    â€œWhere did you find an elk of that size?” Bitahlo asked.
    â€œWe must go out hunting together sometime,” said a short, stocky young man who introduced himself as Gitowdeb.
    As they talked with me, some of them began to confide in me. They had all been pushed into the competition by their parents, who were eager for the prestige to be gained by their son marrying the chief’s daughter. I wondered if Bitahlo with his single woodchuck might have been a better hunter than I thought. Fat Face, in particular, seemed relieved that he had not won Dojihla.
    â€œGood luck marrying a bobcat,” he whispered to me.
    â€œI do not understand,” I said. And I didn’t. What did a bobcat have to do with anything? It was confusing enough to have been an owl who fell in love with a human without bringing in the prospect of marrying yet another sort of animal.
    â€œShe is better suited to you,” Fat Face said, chuckling as he did so. He patted me on the shoulder. “May you survive it.”
    Preparations moved along for the feast as I was moved from