Lodge Learning
LIEUTENANT BARRINGTON, THOMAS, and Winter Born had ended up in the same little group together, Kwemoo--or Maang--flapping far overhead. They'd headed roughly west, and after over twenty minutes of walking, still no conversation had been exchanged. Barrington walked in the lead, almost stalking, while Thomas and Winter Born followed, Winter Born staring at the ground and fiddling with her braids the entire way. Thomas alternated between glancing at her and at the soldier, frowning every time he did the latter. He stuck his hands in his pockets and rather wished that they'd ended up in better company.
"I never thought there was a land more drear than back home," Barrington at last muttered, and the other two lifted their heads, wondering if he was at last interested in conversation. All that he did was glance at them over his shoulder, scowling. "Is that dumb bird going to shit on us or something--?"
Winter Born blinked, then looked up at Thomas. "Thomas, what's sh--"
Thomas bristled and clenched his fists. "Must you use such language?" he hissed, as if Winter Born couldn't hear. She accordingly let out a very mature sigh, and put her fingers up to plug her ears. Thomas now stalked ahead to walk beside Barrington, giving him an irate glare.
"For goodness' sake, she's just a kid!" he snapped.
"So what?" Barrington snapped right back. "She's a little redskin princess and I rather think it fitting that she learn such language!"
Thomas's face blanched, then went red. "You know, you're SERIOUSLY making me rethink being British!!"
Barrington halted and turned to face him. "And you're SERIOUSLY making me rethink being in your COMPANY!" Winter Born halted to stare at them, ears still plugged but eyes wide; Thomas bared his teeth at Barrington in the hopes of making him back down a little, for her sake, but all that the soldier did was stare at him, eyes going wide. Then he leaned forward and stared at Thomas's mouth as if an elf had just crawled out of his throat. Only too late did Thomas realize what he must be seeing, and abruptly shut his mouth, taking a step back and narrowing his eyes at him instead. Too late, though, as Barrington's brow was furrowing already, his own eyes narrowing.
"What in the hell is that you've got in your mouth--?" he asked, and then stepped toward him and put a hand out toward his face. Thomas stepped back as well; Kwemoo--or Maang--made a clumsy landing beside Winter Born and they both watched. Thomas slapped Barrington's hand away.
"Keep them to yourself!" he snapped.
Barrington scowled. "Not till you show me what that WAS!" He made another move, and this time Thomas swept his hand out; he didn't even touch him, but Barrington still fell back, tottering and nearly falling over. He shuddered in the gust of icy wind that passed over him, head jerking up and mouth falling open. A second later the two of them were grappling while Winter Born and the loon gawked on in awe, and then a second after that Thomas was sinking his teeth into Barrington's hand.
"AAGGHH!!" Barrington yelled, yanking himself free. He clamped his uninjured hand over the injured one, grimacing and peering at the blood trickling between his fingers. He lifted his palm to look at the puncture marks--two of them--and then met Thomas's eyes, his own the size of moons. Then he was baring his own teeth.
"I was right! You've got bloody FANGS in there!" He pulled the gun off of his shoulder. "What sort of thing ARE you?"
Thomas clenched his fists. "You'd better reconsider whatever you're planning to do with that gun!"
Barrington snorted and lifted the weapon. "Those monsters from that Island!" he exclaimed. "You're part one of those, aren't you? The monkey ones with the bugging eyes and teeth!" He put the butt of the gun against his shoulder and aimed it. Winter Born's and the loon's eyes went wide. "You may as well be one of THEM! No wonder they paired me with you two!"
"Three, o-ho!" the loon exclaimed.
"Thomas?" Winter Born called out.
"Stay back, Winter Born," Thomas ordered. He took a step toward the soldier, ignoring the gun now pointed between his eyes. "Are you blooming mad? We're SUPPOSED to be trying to find this thing together and all you can think about is who's half-this and half-that--? Don't you ever use more than HALF your brain--?"
"I've seen what THOSE people and those--THINGS--can do!" Barrington retorted. "And you expect me to just go off with you out into the middle of nowhere? I know the stories about those beasts! Eating men's hearts and innards and making stews out of them! Just as I said--all cut from the same cloth!"
Thomas bared his teeth again, not even caring that they'd be seen this time. "You're SERIOUSLY trying my patience!"
"And what do you plan to do about that?" Barrington challenged. "EAT me?"
"Thomas?" Winter Born called.
"Stay back!" Thomas started stalking toward Barrington, whose eyes widened; he started stumbling back, but kept the gun raised. "Listen, you--dumbass!" he snapped, disliking the word that Charmian liked to use but feeling it appropriate for this moment. "I don't give a rip what you think of me, or who you have an issue with, but as long as it's about the Island I'm hardly going to just stand around and let you DRAG us down! If you want to call names be my guest--when this is all OVER! Until then, why don't you try acting your age--?"
"At least I know what I should be acting like!" Barrington retorted.
"Thomas!" Winter Born exclaimed, but she'd moved to the side a little, and her voice startled Barrington. He started to swing the gun; Thomas, remembering what had happened with White Coyote, lunged forward and grabbed the barrel, yanking it upwards. Barrington's head whirled around in time for them to meet each other's eyes, just briefly; then his lip curled back and he dragged the gun back in Thomas's direction. Thomas managed to fight it aside, his own eyes going livid as he swung out and cracked his fist into Barrington's jaw.
Barrington staggered back and the gun was pulled from Thomas's hands. The soldier stumbled to a halt and rubbed at his swelling cheek, blinking and surprised. He glanced up at Thomas, who dug his fingernails into his palms hard enough to bleed, his teeth aching from how tightly he was clenching them.
"ONE MORE TRY with that thing, jackass, and I'll wrap it around your NECK!!"
Barrington stared at him for a brief moment. Then with a yell he raised the gun and pulled the trigger.
Winter Born and Thomas both sucked in a breath, the loon flaring his wings and o-ho'ing. Nothing happened, and Barrington had enough time to glance at the gun and growl, "Stupid French craftsmanship!!"--before something again slammed into his face and he collapsed sideways in a messy muddle. The other three relaxed, mouths falling open in surprise. They all glanced to the side.
Pakwa was shaking bits of dirt from his open hand, a bland look on his face. He got onto all fours and walked toward them and past Barrington, cleaning his fingernails as he went. "Like he said," he said in a neutral voice, "wait until later." He gestured at Thomas. "No tunnel over that way. Going back to wait for the others."
Thomas let out his breath again, watching the GeeBee go on his way. He reached down to grasp Winter Born's hand. "Come on," he muttered. "I think it's about time we headed back as well." He started walking, and she obediently followed; he glanced back just once to make sure that Barrington was all right, the soldier pushing himself upright and wincing as he rubbed at where the dirt clod had struck him. He turned away before the other man could see him looking, and kept his teeth clenched as he walked.
"Thomas...?" Winter Born said in a small voice.
"Yes?" He didn't like how angry his voice came out--the girl flinched--and so took a breath and forced himself to calm down. "Yes, Winter Born?"
"Are you okay?"
He frowned a little. "Of course." He looked to see her peering up at him. "Why?"
"Well..." She fiddled with her braid and chewed on her lip. "For a minute back there," she said at last, "your eyes turned yellow."
Thomas blinked. He felt butterflies start zooming around in his stomach, and had to turn away. "It was probably just the light," he said, and after a pause he sensed her nodding, and she turned to stare ahead as well.
"Probably," she said, with more conviction than he himself felt, and her fingers squeezed his.
"I seriously think you need to know what you're facing!"
Charmian stared at the old Mide seated on the floor, his eyes boring through hers. Stick-In-The-Dirt hadn't moved from his seat just yet, but he too was frozen in place, likewise staring. After a moment or two of silence, Charmian took a step back into the lodge, frowning a little.
"You've heard of Megissogwun...?" she asked, fully expecting some sort of convoluted "No."
Cutfoot gave her a very odd look that under any other circumstances she would have called a scowl. "I should hope that I have! Every Mide is supposed to know this tale!"
Charmian's brow furrowed. She peered at Stick-In-The-Dirt, whose own mouth had fallen open, then back at Cutfoot. "Um...every Mide...?"
Stick-In-The-Dirt clenched his fists. "I have never heard this tale!" he exclaimed, as if greatly offended. "How is it that every Mide is supposed to know it yet I don't--?"
"So you mean you are a Mide...?" Cutfoot said, eyeing him skeptically. "Huh. I was starting to wonder!" He crossed his arms again. "What sort of Mide are you that you don't even know this story--?"
Charmian edged to the side a bit; Stick-In-The-Dirt looked about ready to blow a gasket. "I'm a THIRD-LEVEL Mide!!"
"Third?" Cutfoot gawked, then huffed. "Well--no WONDER! Of course they don't tell the story to such low-level Mide! I first heard it at the FIFTH grade!"
"Is this something like elementary school--?" Charmian asked, growing confused.
Stick-In-The-Dirt just stared at Cutfoot with his mouth hanging open. He slowly shut it and shrank back in on himself a bit. "But..." His voice came out paper thin. "There are only four grades of Midewiwin!"
Cutfoot made the huffing noise again, now seeming rather amused. "FOUR? What sort of piffling Midewiwin is that? Everyone knows there are EIGHT grades!"
The younger medicine man's jaw fell again. "EIGHT?! There have always been FOUR!"
"Eight!" Cutfoot snapped. "Four Earth grades--" and here he gestured at the ground "--and four Sky grades!" And he gestured toward the top of the lodge.
Now Stick-In-The-Dirt just looked baffled. "Earth and Sky grades...?"
Charmian moved to stand between them, holding out her arms; Cutfoot glanced up at her. "This is all very nice and...educational...sort of," she said, "but what's it have to do with Megissogwun--?" She turned to Cutfoot. "You said you learned about him in the Midewiwin! So you know him?"
Cutfoot stared at her for a moment, then frowned. He looked at Stick-In-The-Dirt, and then back up at her, somewhat disapprovingly. Charmian began to wilt a bit, but after a moment he just snorted and waved his hand at her to sit down.
"Eh," he muttered. "I already shot you, you may as well be a member." Charmian gawked but Stick-In-The-Dirt grabbed her arm and accordingly yanked on it to make her sit down. "EVERY Mide--no matter HOW low their grade," Cutfoot started, earning a very steamed glare from Stick-In-The-Dirt, "knows the story of the great Shell which led us to this land long ago."
"Well..." Charmian rubbed her neck. "Pretend I'm stupid!"
The old man rolled his eyes and sighed but obliged. "They say that, a long time ago, our people were led to this land by a great Megis shell which floated westward from the salt water and passed into this land of great lakes. Our people followed it, and settled here, and have been here ever since. We would have remained in the old land, and possibly perished from plague or starvation, had not this Shell traveled this far. They say that it eventually came to rest not far from the Turtle Island."
"Turtle Island!" Charmian sat up straight, eyes lighting up, and glanced at Stick-In-The-Dirt. "Manitou Island! So you mean the Megis had something to do with the Island we came from--?"
Cutfoot held up a hand. "Who knows. As the story goes, this Island did not exist back then."
Charmian blinked, then deflated again. "Didn't--didn't exist...?" Her brow furrowed. "But...you just said the Shell came here--to the Island," she corrected herself.
"Near where the Island would one day be," Cutfoot corrected her. "Above the great water. Here the Shell first came to rest, before moving on, and in this spot was later formed the Island you claim to come from. It was said that one day, this Island would belong to our people as this was the stop the Shell made--Megis itself proclaimed it so."
"But the Michinimakinong lived there first..." Charmian protested weakly, but Stick-In-The-Dirt shushed her.
"With respect, Grandfather," he said, "what has this to do with Megissogwun?"
"They say that he too came out of the east," Cutfoot said.
Charmian sat up again. "Geezhigo-Quae and Glooskap both hinted at that," she said, and frowned. "How come you would know so much about him, but Geezhigo-Quae wouldn't?"
"With no disrespect intended to the Sky Mother," Cutfoot said dryly, "she is not a Mide!" Charmian shrank again and he cleared his throat. "Where was I? Oh yes...the Megis. Well. It couldn't stay there, and so continued on its way. It moved somewhat northward, following an irregular path, and made other stops as well--near the falls--over Gitchi-Gami itself--and on into the wastes. After this, none are certain where it went. But it marked the path we would one day follow."
"This I fail to understand," Stick-In-The-Dirt interrupted now. "The Shell was said to have led us out of the east...yet now you speak as if this happened only much later! How could this be?"
Cutfoot sighed, eyes turning skyward. "The Shell's journey took many moons--more than I'm betting anyone could count! And the travel of our people took even longer. Of course it was gradual! You think we would all flock to an Island that didn't yet exist? In any case," he said, "some believe it was because the Megis halted over Odawa-Gami that Gitchi Manitou chose this spot for the Island to arise. And not much long after, it was so."
"But you haven't said what this has to do with Megissogwun," Charmian protested.
"Spirits, girl, but you are so impatient!" Cutfoot exclaimed, making them jump. "No wonder you're learning from a third level!" He coughed, ignoring how Stick-In-The-Dirt flushed red and started steaming again. "As much as I hate to say it, this part of the story is much vaguer," he said, and now Charmian started to steam too. "But some say that this is how the Shell traveled in the first place. That it rested upon a feather that drifted on the wind. This is just a tale, mind you. They don't teach it to the lower grades...with good reason..."
"A feather...?" Charmian echoed, and her stare drifted to the floor. "Shell-Feather...that's what his name means." Her brow furrowed. "But...if that story's true...then that means that Megissogwun is RESPONSIBLE for the Island...and for your people, and..." She shuddered and shook her head. "I've MET the guy and I find that kind of hard to believe!"
"Again remember this is just a tale," Cutfoot said. "Who knows how much is true or not. Back then they say that this 'Megissogwun' was not the manitou he is now. What was it I just told you? It was merely a feather which held aloft a shell. But who knows how things happen. Perhaps that feather became jealous. Perhaps he isn't even of the feather at all, and just uses it as his name. All I can say with certainty is, this manitou is older than almost any other--as old as the Winds, and the Sky--and as powerful, as well. But not always as smart. I hear he made a dreadful mistake some time in the past."
"Mistake--?" Charmian and Stick-In-The-Dirt both echoed in unison.
A nod. "Supposedly, he challenged some manitou he shouldn't have."
"Oh." Charmian sat back. "You mean Kabeyun."
Cutfoot frowned. "The West Wind...? No...that's not it."
Charmian's brow furrowed and she sat forward a bit. "Not him...? But..." She rubbed at her head. "But that's what everyone ELSE has been saying! That he destroyed the Island, and then fought Kabeyun, and Kabeyun won..."
"Spirits, girl," Cutfoot sighed gustily, "you get quite far ahead of yourself! All that stuff happened MUCH after what I'm talking about!"
All that Charmian could do was stare at him, dumbfounded. After a moment she made herself sit back again, and chewed on her lip to keep herself from barraging him with questions. "Now if you want to hear this story," he continued, "you'll promise to stop INTERRUPTING every two seconds! Now you see why they don't like children in the Midewiwin?"
She had to bite her tongue especially hard at that, but the sympathetic yet pleading look that Stick-In-The-Dirt gave her convinced her to do so. "Okay," she said in a small sour voice. "I'll keep quiet."
Cutfoot looked skeptical again, but settled himself and with a snort went on. "The story says," he said, "that once he had grown into a powerful-enough manitou, this Pearl Feather sought too much that he shouldn't have had. His head was fuller even than that of the braggingest wabano. There was not one thing he deemed beyond his grasp. He would have challenged Gitchi Manitou himself had the idea occurred to him. Instead, the story says he went after some other manitou. The story does not say who. Only that he attempted to make off with this manitou, and regretted it later on."
"Make off with--?" Charmian said, then clapped a hand over her mouth.
"Kidnap," Cutfoot replied, apparently not considering that an interruption. "I do believe that word fits as well. It was just a young manitou, from the sound of it. But a dreadfully powerful one. Why the Pearl Feather did this, no one rightly knows. They do say that this manitou escaped him, but as for what became of it after that, no one knows that either. Perhaps it never truly escaped him and he stole its power? Perhaps so. Because he went after another manitou much later, and his own medicine was much stronger than it should have been. This is when he destroyed the Turtle Island, and was then fought off by the West Wind."
"Kidnapped a manitou?" Cutfoot didn't speak up, so Charmian assumed that he must be done; she gnawed on her thumbnail. "A powerful one...he did steal Augwak's power, though he said he didn't need it...but still..." She lifted her head. "This second manitou..."
"From the sound of it you already know her," Cutfoot said.
"Geezhigo-Quae?" Charmian shivered a little. "So she is the second manitou he went after?" Cutfoot nodded. "But he didn't get her, because Kabeyun fought him off...but only after he'd destroyed the Island...so who is this first manitou?" She sat in thought for a moment or two before a feeling of unease began to settle over her. "Cutfoot," she said, failing to see how he frowned at her lack of a proper title, "do you know anything else about the first manitou? You said it was young but powerful...but isn't there anything else?"
Cutfoot pursed his lips thoughtfully. "I'm afraid not," he admitted after a few moments. "The story says nothing. Only that this manitou was never seen again, even if it did manage to escape him. You believe this old old tale has some bearing on what you seek now?"
"I think maybe it does." Charmian slowly got to her feet and waved a little at Stick-In-The-Dirt. "Come on...I'm getting an idea. I think I want to run it by everybody. Oh." She pulled her pack off and started digging in it. "I have tobacco..." She put the pack back on and dug in her pocket instead.
Cutfoot waved his hand. "You mentioned heading north...?" Charmian nodded and he waved again. "Keep it. If you plan to truly face the Wintermaker, then you'll need it."
"Why does everybody keep saying that...?" Charmian murmured, but snapped her pocket shut just the same. Stick-In-The-Dirt got to his feet now, bobbing his head a bit meekly.
"Megwetch for helping us, Grandfather," he said. Then he furrowed his brow. "You're certain it's eight...?"
"Always has been, that I know of," Cutfoot replied. "Good luck to both of you. I certainly believe you'll need it--whether you're facing Kabeyun, or the Wintermaker, OR Megissogwun!"
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Charmian sighed, adjusting her pack. They headed for the entrance as the old Mide picked up a rattle and poked at the fire, making it roar as he started rattling and chanting something. "Hope your initiate shows up sometime," she grumbled under her breath, and rubbed at her aching chest.
They reached the doorflap and pulled it up. "Eight grades," Stick-In-The-Dirt murmured to himself, looking quite crestfallen. "And here I thought I was learning so much..."
"So did I," Charmian said, rubbing at her head now.
He looked at her. "You said you have an idea now--about this manitou Megissogwun went after? What has this to do with anything?"
"I think I know who that manitou was," Charmian said. They started walking across the charred camp. "Red Swan," she said, and he looked at her again, frowning in puzzlement.
"The Red Swan?" he echoed.
Charmian nodded. "That lady who keeps showing up in my dreams. She doesn't remember her past--the same as nobody remembers what happened to this manitou child who went missing. And she's being held captive somewhere, and has been, for a REALLY long time. Think about it." She gestured at nothing in particular. "Megissogwun kidnaps her for her power...but she's so powerful, maybe he can't take it from her. So he imprisons her instead..." She trailed off, then sighed. "But the Stone Canoe..."
"What about the Stone Canoe?"
"Well...it said that Megissogwun didn't HAVE anything to do with the Red Swan's imprisonment." She ground her teeth. "Nuts! It was starting to sound like such a good idea, too!" She let out another sigh. "Well...maybe I can figure that part out later. In any case, the rest of it makes sense. Megissogwun kidnapped her, but maybe she got away and then Mishosha got hold of her. Meanwhile, the Pearl Feather's off going after Geezhigo-Quae's power and the Island is being destroyed."
"But..." When the word left Stick-In-The-Dirt's mouth she grimaced. "But recall that he said this was AGES ago! Innumerable moons! This Mishosha is merely a human! Surely he wouldn't have been alive back then--? You did say this Red Swan has been imprisoned for a very long time..."
Charmian scowled. "I hate it when you're right," she muttered, earning an odd look. "Well...we'll work THAT knot out later, too!! All I know is it matches so far. The Red Swan is a really powerful manitou, and she only seemed to come into existence around the time she was caught. Maybe she just made herself forget all that stuff. It happens where I come from, and they make TV movies about it." She adjusted her pack again as Niskigwun and Mani came into view. "And it might help explain just a few things, like...huh?"
She halted and craned her neck to look over her shoulder when she heard something land in the grass. She blinked as soon as she saw a candy bar lying there, then turned around and picked it up. "Where did this come from--?"
Another plunking noise came and Mani whistled. Red Land One, you're leaking.
"Huh--?" Charmian said again, shooting upright and whirling around.
"Did you learn anything in there?" Niskigwun asked, gesturing at the lodge. "You were both gone for so long that we were ready to head in--at least, I was, if he had not stopped me..." He shot an evil look at Mani, who wrinkled his muzzle in return.
"Some things," Stick-In-The-Dirt replied, rubbing his hands, "though you might want to wait for Charmian to explain them..."
"Oh no! Nuts!!" Charmian exclaimed, shirking off her backpack and setting it on the ground with a thud. The other three peered down at her as she felt along its side, then stuck her fingers in a tear that had formed in the lower corner. Her face blanched. "My pack's got a hole in it!! I'm going to lose my stuff!" She pulled it open and started poking around inside.
"This is easily fixed," Stick-In-The-Dirt reassured her. "I'm certain one of the voyageurs must have a needle and something to sew it up with."
Lose anything? Mani asked.
"I'm not sure...it doesn't look like it." She stuck her head in a bit and continued shoving items aside, then pulled her head back out. "I think I lost the gift I got for Manabozho!" she said with an aggrieved look. "I can't find it in here!"
"You got him a gift?" Niskigwun asked in a sour voice.
She made a face at him. "I got YOU guys one, didn't I? I don't even know where I could've dropped it--it could be anywhere between here and the woods!" She picked up her pack--keeping the tear shut with her hand--and started pacing around, staring intently into the grass. "Crap...it's good that's the ONLY thing I lost...but if he finds out I got everybody else a gift but don't have one for HIM..."
"Oh, for spirits' sakes!" Niskigwun exclaimed, exasperated; he waved his spear and Stick-In-The-Dirt and Mani looked at him. "Just head back to the camp and I will look for it. Seeing as I can cover the most ground most quickly! And then we can be on our way out of here. If you found out where that tunnel is--?"
"He didn't know about a tunnel," Charmian replied.
Niskigwun put a hand to his feathers and ran it through them, teeth bared, so that they stuck out even more in every direction. He let out a gusty sigh. "Then we will have more time to actually look for it. Go on!" He cut a hand through the air, earning a dirty look from her. "I said I'll look! You three head back. What is it I am to look for, anyway?"
Charmian bit her lip. "You have to promise you won't tell!"
The Michinimakinong flared his wings. "Do I LOOK like I want to tell?"
"It's a surprise!" Charmian protested, but cupped her hand to his ear and whispered anyway. He listened, then frowned a little, then pulled away, giving her an odd look.
"That's what you brought him...?" he said, then rolled his eyes and turned away. "Very well...I will find it...and then we can leave this place!"
"You don't have to be so rude about it!" Charmian said.
Niskigwun snorted. "I fail to see why you expend so much thought on his gift anyway. Perhaps what you'd best get him is a sense of humility!" He spread his wings and flapped them, rising into the air and over the camp. Charmian ground her teeth but Stick-In-The-Dirt grasped her arm and they started walking back south.
"He's simply concerned that we get on our way," he insisted. "As I bet most of us are! We do have yet to even find that tunnel, after all."
"Well--maybe one of the OTHERS had better luck!" Charmian hugged her pack and scowled. "Doesn't need to be so pissy about it. I figured they'd both be over all that by now!"
Not worth worrying about too much, Red Land One, Mani whistled. Will feel better after a rest in camp! Haven't been self since setting foot on shore.
"I haven't...?" Charmian asked, blinking, then frowned vaguely. "I have felt kind of funny...are you feeling funny at all, Mani?"
The manitou whistled and cocked an ear. Meaning of "funny"...?
Charmian bit her tongue. Whenever she felt pain, Mani was supposed to feel it too. So why hadn't he felt her headache or stubbed toe or anything...?
Stick-In-The-Dirt's stare drifted skyward. "I do hope White Deer and the others are doing well...I hated having to leave them behind like that. But she has always been the sensible one..."
"I bet they're a lot safer on the ISLAND than any of us are out HERE," Charmian grumbled, and as if taking the hint, they all picked up their pace. A strong breeze struck their backs and they shivered, nearly jogging, each thinking a different thought about the Island.
Niskigwun made a graceful landing in the middle of the wrecked camp, shuffled his wings, and started looking around himself at the ground. He scowled and nudged aside a cinder with his foot. "A huge waste of time!" he muttered, and started walking around, making wider circles and poking his spear at the disturbed ground. "Something that small...it could be just about anywhere by now. And as if the oaf will even appreciate it once he is given it..."
He glanced at the Mide lodge as he went, frowning, but decided to save it until last; there had been someone in there, and he didn't have any proper clothing to cover up his wings, aside from his wingcase, and it was rather easy to see through that. He sighed and folded his wings more tightly anyway, just in case the stranger might be watching, and poked again at the ashes. "Perhaps a nice LARGE rock," he mused aloud, "would suit him much better...the better to hit him in the head, and perhaps make him more amenable to things for a while..."
He had to admit that the halfling manitou was mostly behaving himself, for once, and he'd even proven useful in the meeting with the Canoe, and with the wolves...but still...he disliked the thought of what he might do as soon as they got close to the Pearl Feather. It was his daughter who was in danger...and he'd been known to not have a very level head when his family was on the line...
Niskigwun's frown grew. Little Turtle...she is also half Michinimakinong...she may as well be one of my people, also...
He sighed and scraped the spear through some rubble, peeking down into it; no gift. He located tracks that looked like Charmian's and started following those instead. "Even if I do not like him," he murmured to himself, "still, he does care for the Island, and for his girl...and the mainlander cares for him..."
A gust of wind buffeted against him and he grasped at his necklaces, squinching his eyes against the ashes which were whipped up into the air. His own feathers nearly blinded him as they flew in his face, and he had to brush them aside, peering back to see how Charmian and the others were faring in such a gust. They'd walked almost out of sight by now, but he caught only the briefest glimpse of them before they were suddenly gone, and his vision was impeded. He found himself staring at a feather tattoo, and blinked, then his head jerked up. Cold blue eyes bored straight through his.
"I wish to know why all of you are taking your precious time," Megissogwun said in a very unpleasant voice, right before all of the color drained from Niskigwun's face.
No comments:
Post a Comment