In Which the Author Speaks of Things that You Would Rather Ignore:

NOW ANNOUNCING PROJECT MOCCS: No, Moccs doesn't stand for anything. It means moccasins.

I was recently surfing the interwebs, when I came across a website built by someone that was on a mission to collect every type of geta. I decided that it would be amusing to acquire a pair of traditionally made moccasins in each regional style. No, I don't mean mass-produced Minnetonka moccasins… (not that I have those or anything, pfffft) and I don't mean Uggs. I mean the real thing. I'm kinda really excited to start! I already have mukluks, Ute hard-sole, and Salish side-seams. You can see a map of regional variations here: http:/www(dot)nativetech(dot)org/clothing/moccasin/mocmap(dot)html

DISCLAIMER: If I owned them, this would just be plain fiction, wouldn't it?

…...

Morning came as it always did, shedding light on the sadness and unpleasant goings-on below. The People had begun their journey back to the site of their village after spending the night in the shelter of the cave.

Kagome had been called upon to act as nursemaid to the three injured ones that were recovered from the scene of the massacre. Luckily, their cave was well-stocked with the necessary materials to tend their wounds. The man, Niichaad, had found himself rendered unconscious by a blow to the head, but suffered no lasting effects other than a raging headache.

The young woman was another story. Kagome hung her head just thinking about it. Kanti had been in the first teepee at the far end of the village. Not wanting the rest to know of their presence just yet, the attackers had entered the dwelling. The young woman had been sleeping soundly, only to wake with a hand at her throat. She was strangled until she passed out, just like the others in her teepee. Her home was then set aflame, her whole family inside. Only she and her mother had survived, both of them sustaining serious burns.

Kanti had received the worst of it though.

Through a combination of strangulation and smoke inhalation, the beautiful young woman with the voice of a songbird had lost her ability to speak. She tried and tried, but the only result of her efforts had been a hoarse grating noise and extreme pain. Kagome didn't know what to do other than pour cool water down her throat in hopes of soothing the injured tissues. She applied a cooling salve to both mother and daughter's burns.

Several others had found their way to the shelter, some injured, some not. It was these latecomers that had more information regarding those that had been killed in the attack. They spoke of several of the elders that never had a chance; a few children, slaughtered without honor; and even a pregnant woman had been killed, receiving a war club to the head after lumbering out of her burning dwelling. It was the deaths of these defenseless ones that caused the heavy atmosphere among the tribe. No one knew quite what to do or say, many settling on sobbing throughout the night.

Upon reaching the site of the village, no one said a word. For a moment they stopped and stared at what remained of their homes and families.

Eventually a few of the warriors stepped forward, silently still, and began gathering the bodies of the deceased. Slowly, others began to join them, returning to the teepees of those they knew had passed to uncover the bodies. Kagome walked slowly down the rows of teepees as though her own spirit had left her.

When she caught sight of her own mother, laying amidst the ruin and surrounded by the smell of burnt and rotting flesh, she felt nothing. She had become numb in her pain and loathing, empty of all thought. Her hopes and dreams were gone, she was devoid of emotion, and her awareness of the world around her had completely fled.

Until it all came back in a rush and Kagome found herself weeping at the side of her dead mother.

The young woman heard the sorrowful tones of the death wail rise in the air, not even realizing that they came from her own throat.

A grave was dug and the bodies collected. Each person was lowered into the grave individually as the People sang the burial chant. A canoe was lowered into the center of the shared grave to help the spirits of the dead on their journey to the Happy Place.

Once the grave had been filled in, the families of the deceased gathered the belongings of the dead together and burned them to release the essence of the owner because keeping the possessions of one who had passed could hold their spirit in the living world.

Kagome sat and watched as her mother's possessions were burned, and she felt as though her own spirit was being consumed by the hungry flames. Even as her mother's spirit was released, hers was bound by the guilt she felt deep in her heart. She sat with her family, Tooantuh's hair now cut short, and watched the flames dance around her mother's few belongings, leaping and swaying with no true rhythm.

She spoke her mother's name one last time before it could be given back to the tribe as her mother's well-worn digging hat was engulfed in flames. She said it as a goodbye, not as a summons.

"Makawee…"

Niichaad – Swollen [just a word] (Navajo)

Kanti – Sings, female implied (Algonquin)

Makawee – True Mother, spirit sense implied (Lakota)

Burial traditions are Nimiipuu. The death wail was used to announce the death of a loved one. Only women gave the death wail. I swear, you never want to hear it. It's beautiful in its sorrow, but it's a terribly heart-wrenching sound and you'll never forget it.

A canoe was sometimes buried with a body for the reasons above, just as possessions were burned for the reasons above.

The name of one deceased is never spoken in regards to them again. The name is given back to the tribe for reuse. If one speaks the name of the dead, their spirit hears it as a call and may return from the Happy Place and become stuck between worlds.

Please review! This chapter was so hard to write! You all really make me happy with your kind reviews. Let me know if you have any questions as well!

~Siki