Wild Ecstasy by Cassie Edwards Page A

to purify the air.”
    Again Mariah smiled weakly, too soon realizing the complexities of the Chippewa’s beliefs. She wondered if it was wise at all to try to fit into the culture, even if only for a while, in an attempt to make up to Echohawk and his people the wrongs she and her father had done them. Her efforts might be looked on as too foreign—as trivial, and wrong.
    Yet she must not let anything dissuade her. She must do it for Echohawk.
    Nee-kah leaned even more closely to Mariah. “Do you see the eagle feather in the Mide priest’s beaver hat?” she whispered. “That is another sign of his magic power. Do you see the pouch at his belt? It contains many totems that are used for healing the sick. He keeps with him bits of rattlesnake and bear claws, feathers from certain birds, tobacco and elk’s teeth. Now, watch as he performs his magic.”
    The priest began to chant as he bent over Echohawk. With great care he took several objects from his pouch and arranged them on Echohawk’s chest. Then he shook his rattle over his patient and sang again.
    The Mide priest droned song upon song. Mariah swallowed hard as she continued to watch, becoming fearful that perhaps what she saw as witchcraft hocus-pocus might do Echohawk more harm than good. What Echohawk needed was real medicine, not strange songs sung over him and strange shells placed atop him.
    She wanted to get up and speak her piece about how she felt, yet she knew to do so would be to condemn herself in the eyes of not only her friend, Nee-kah, but also the whole village. She was here because of their tolerance. She did not have the right to interfere in their beliefs, no matter how strange they seemed to her.
    She stretched her neck to see what the priest was now about to do. He had gotten a cloth bundle from behind him and was unwrapping it. Her eyes widened as he took out a tail feather from an eagle, yet she saw that something still remained covered in the cloth.
    Exhaling a nervous breath, she made herself relax as she continued to observe the curing ritual.
    The Mide priest took the feather in his right hand and smoothed out its edges with his left. Settling himself on his haunches beside Echohawk, he leaned forward and wedged the feather in an upright position in the furs that were spread over Echohawk. After placing the feather there, he picked up his drum again and began another song.
    Mariah got caught up in the melancholia of this song, finding it beautiful—even mystical. She closed her eyes and let herself get carried away, as though on soft downy clouds above the earth. She experienced many things while in this semitrance state. She could hear so many things—the sighing of the wind as it blows through the tall pines; the soothing sound of waves lapping against the stones on the beach; and the fading noise of an animal crashing its way through the brush.
    The song suddenly rose to a high vibrato, wrenching Mariah out of her reverie. Her eyes blinked nervously and her heart pounded, wondering about this moment of strangeness that she had just experienced. It made her fear the priest even more. He did seem to have powers that she had only moments ago scoffed at.
    She flinched with alarm when the last drumbeat sounded and the feather jumped from atop Echohawk and fluttered to the floor as though it had a life of its own.
    Confessing to herself that she was spellbound by the priest’s performance, Mariah watched almost anxiously as he unwrapped the remainder of the cloth bundle.
    Now he held two wooden figures in his hand. One apparently represented a male, the other a female. They were carved out of white ash and had movable heads and arms, and were attached to the bodies in a manner not discernible to her.
    The medicine man then smoothed out a square of white cloth on the mat-covered floor and laid the figures on their backs on one half of the cloth, and carefully folded the other half over them so that