Old Growth Forest
Chapter 12
As I got closer to Mulder my stomach began to churn. Most people wouldn't be able function in that state. Then again, most people would never have let it get to that stage. It must have been excruciating. His hands were completely raw.
"Is that from the axe?" I inspected his palms.
"Yup," he shrugged, said axe still on his shoulder.
"What about your hands, Jack?" I looked at him, concerned for his health as well.
"Mine are fine," he showed me his left. "Mulder is not used to the work."
"I thought with everything you did in Madison..." I began.
"Not the same as working with an axe for nine hours," he interrupted me.
"Why didn't you stop when they started to get bad?" I took him by the elbow and led him back to the wigwam.
"What would that have accomplished?" His pragmatic tone annoyed me.
"Oh, I don't know - maybe your hands wouldn't look like raw meat," I couldn't believe that he'd pushed himself this far. "Let me get some mats to sit on. The ground is getting cold." I ducked inside to grab a couple of the mats from the floor of the wigwam. They were woven from grasses and covered the floors of all of the wigwams. "Sit here," I ordered once I'd placed the mats by the fire. "I'll get Omiga," I didn't try to hide my exasperation.
"I will get him," Jack offered, looking a little uncomfortable. "I can explain it better."
"Thanks, Jack," I smiled at him and then not a word was spoken until he was out of earshot.
"What, exactly, did you expect me to do, Scully? Let Jack do all of the work for our cabin? He was faster than me to start with," Mulder's eyes flashed angrily.
"I'm sure he would have understood," I tried to keep my voice calm. "I doubt that he expected you to cripple yourself."
"Don't be so melodramatic, Scully," he rolled his eyes at me. "I'm hardly crippled. It's just raw skin under some broken blisters. "I'm sure they'll heal."
"Well, you won't be going back until they are healed," I said flatly.
"Yes, I am. I'm going back tomorrow," he looked up at me.
I was surprised that he was arguing with me about a health matter. He almost always did what I asked. I could tell from the gleam in his eyes that he wasn't about to back down, but I wasn't about to give up, either.
"Mulder, be serious," my voice seemed to be getting louder of its own accord. "How could you possibly do anything with those hands?"
"Scully, we have a limited amount of time to get this finished. Jack has to leave for Green Bay in a week and I can't do this without him. By the time he gets back we'll probably be knee deep in snow and it'll be too late. You know that I only agreed to come back here if we had a cabin to live in, so I either go back to work tomorrow or we can start packing for Madison - your choice," his voice was firm.
I couldn't remember a time when Mulder had spoken to me like that. I'd seen him that way with other people, just never with me. He knew that I wouldn't agree to going back to Madison, so he was telling me that the decision was already made - by him.
"But how, Mulder?" I felt tears welling up in my eyes. I couldn't bear knowing that he was enduring this for me. "How are you even going to be able to pick up an axe?" I knelt down beside him, in acquiescence.
"We'll think of something," his tone was reassuring and his eyes had softened dramatically. "Here comes Omiga," he nodded across the compound. The old man was hobbling toward us with Jack following closely behind. "I'm sure he'll be able to help."
Omiga sighed heavily when he saw Mulder's hands. Squatting down beside him, he pulled a small clay pot out of the basket he'd brought. Lifting the leather cover revealed what looked like an ointment. Omiga dipped two fingers into it and began to spread it onto Mulder's palms. At the first contact, Mulder drew in a sharp breath and bit his lip. All I could do was rub his leg to try to soothe him; my heart broke anew with every wince.
Once both hands were treated, Omiga pulled out some very thin leather and wrapped it around both of Mulder's palms. To secure it, he tied narrow strips of leather around the bandages. Then Omiga began to speak to Jack and after handing him some bark, he stood up and shuffled away.
"Omiga says he'll come back later to put fresh medicine on your hands. The doeskin will help to protect them when you're working tomorrow," Jack spoke to Mulder first. Then he turned and handed the bark to me. "Make some tea with this for Mulder; some now, some in the morning and then with his midday meal. Omiga says it will help with the pain."
"Thank you, Jack," I smiled, taking the bark. "I'll get the water now."
When I got back Wanik had joined the men at our fire. I was surprised to see that she was wearing what looked like breeches under her dress. Mulder looked like he was in Buddhist prayer, with his legs crossed and his palms upturned.
"Hi, Wanik," I smiled as I hung the kettle over the fire. I was glad I thought to bring a cast iron spit. It made cooking a whole lot simpler.
"Kwe-kwe, Day-na," Wanik smiled.
"Kwe-kwe?" I turned to Jack.
"It means hello, or nice to see you. It's how we great each other," he explained.
"Oh, okay," I turned back to Wanik. "Kwe-kwe, Wanik," I returned her greeting, making her giggle. "I thought I'd fry up some corn bread to go with the stew," I told them us I got up to fetch the frying pan. "Do you think you could explain some things to me while I cook, Jack?"
"What things?" Mulder was curious.
"I'm trying to learn some of the language, but it's confusing," I told them as I rummaged through my supplies.
"I'd be glad to help," Jack watched me expectantly.
"I hardly know where to start," I chuckled as I gathered up the ingredients for the bread. "Does jaawiin mean no?"
"Yes, it does," he chuckled. "That's an easy one to learn, isn't it?"
"Yeah," I smiled. "When I was with Omiga this morning I was confused by the difference between nibi and biidoo-nibi."
"Well, nibi is water and if Omiga said biidoo-nibi, he wanted you to bring him - biidoo, water - nibi," he smiled.
As soon as he finished speaking Wanik began to tell him something in an earnest voice, glancing at me occasionally.
"Wanik wants you to know that she wasn't angry with you this afternoon. She wanted you to understand that it was important to pluck the birds and get them into the water to soak," Jack translated. "They aren't like ducks. Ducks can just be plucked and cooked."
"I kind of figured that out," I chuckled.
"And that reminds me, Omiga asked me to tell you not to touch the purple flower that grows by the shore," Jack looked perplexed. "Do you know what that means?"
"Yes, it was in the poultice we made this morning. I think it's bad for the baby," I clarified. "Did he say anything else? I was hoping to learn the names of everything."
"No, he was busy," Jack looked apologetic. "I'm sure he'll tell you when he has time."
"That bark for the tea; it was in the poultice too," I hoped Jack would know what it was.
"That's poplar bark," Jack nodded.
"Oh," I understood immediately. "A salicylate."
"Really?" Mulder must have recognized the word. "Take two aspirin and call me in the morning," he laughed.
"Aspirin?" Jack furrowed his brow.
"A remedy given by white doctors," Mulder explained.
"Never heard of it," Jack cocked his head. "From what I've seen, most white doctors give out tonics that are no better than liquor."
"Can't argue with you there, Jack," I interjected. "As for the aspirin, maybe they haven't made it this far west yet." It was easier than explaining that acetylsalicylic acid hadn't been isolated by white men yet.
While I finished frying the bread I learned that miigwech meant thank you and that Leosani had meant for me to keep the blankets she'd given me.
"I can't keep them," I protested. "Those were your blankets I used, Jack."
"I'll get them back," he laughed. "It was symbolic. She needed to thank you and you needed blankets."
"True," I had to agree. "Everything's ready, including your tea, Mulder. I'll get that first."
When Mulder took his first sip, his eyes grew wide and he spat it back out, making Wanik chortle.
"I can't drink that, Scully," he grimaced.
"Mulder," I sighed. "Have I ever told you that you're a pain in the ass? Let me serve Jack and Wanik and then I'll get you some sugar."
"Thank you," he tried to dazzle me with a smile, but I pretended like I hadn't noticed.
When I'd given our guests their food, I retrieved the sticky brown sugar to sweeten Mulder's tea.
"It still doesn't taste very good," he complained.
"One more teaspoon and that's it," I warned him. "It's not supposed to be delicious, Mulder, it's medicine."
"Yes, dear," he faked a smile and began to take small sips of his tea, keeping his nose wrinkled the entire time.
"This stew is delicious, Day-na," Jack praised my food. "And your cornbread is better than Rosaline's."
"Thank you, Jack," I felt my cheeks grow hot. I hoped that in the deepening twilight no one would notice.
As I began to dish out Mulder's food, Wanik murmured something to Jack, making him smile.
"Wanik would like to learn how to make the cornbread. Will you teach her?"
"Of course," I assured him as I handed Mulder his food. "Actually, that gives me an idea. Tomorrow I'll make lunch for both of you and I can make some cornbread to go with it. I'll show Wanik then. How does that sound?"
Wanik nodded and smiled brightly when Jack translated for her. When I sat down with my supper, Jack and Mulder began to talk about the house.
"I don't think it'll take too much longer to finish," Jack said thoughtfully.
"We'd be done sooner if you weren't insisting on a floor," Mulder countered.
"You'd freeze without one in the winter and come spring it would be like living in the middle of a stream," Jack argued.
It sounded like a debate they'd had before.
"You seem to manage without them in the wigwams," Mulder pointed out.
"I haven't told you this before, but the Fox Indians haven't always lived in wigwams. They lived in houses; houses with floors. They adopted wigwams from the plains Indians when they lived in Iowa. It's much easier to pick up and go with a wigwam. Not to mention, that if you had looked at the floor of yours, you would have found that under the mats are branches. That's all there to keep out that cold and water."
"I was joking, Jack," Mulder shook his head. "I would never let Scully live with a dirt floor, especially in the interest of saving time."
"It wouldn't be so bad," I interjected. "And if it would be easier on your hands -,"
"Scully," Mulder's tone became serious, "I thought this was settled."
"I can make do with a dirt floor for one winter," I offered.
"For one thing, it would be much harder to put the floor in later," his tone was still serious, "And like Jack said, we're almost done felling the trees. Most of tomorrow will be spent barking them. We're putting in the real floor, Scully."
"I know it's not my place to interfere," Jack spoke up, "But even if Mulder agreed with you, I'd have to insist on a real floor. A dirt floor is no way for decent folks to live, and you've got a baby to think about."
"I'm just worried about Mulder's hands," I didn't look at Mulder. I knew he'd be angry that I brought it up.
"It's the only way to toughen'em up," Jack shrugged. "And the worst of the work is over. Omiga's wraps should help. He'll be fine. My hands have looked like that more than once," Jack chuckled. "If you baby'em too much, he'll have it just as bad the next time."
I kept my mouth shut. I knew I'd lost this one, and I could already hear Mulder saying 'I told you so'.
"And our ancestors will be pleased," Jack continued with a smile. "It's their duty to protect our people."
"Your ancestors? Why?" I wasn't following him.
"Both the Fox and Sauk Indians believe that our ancestors inhabit the trees of the forest. Sometimes at night you can hear them whispering," Jack looked up as he spoke.
"Really?" Mulder said through a mouthful of cornbread, following Jack's eyes to the tree line.
"Won't everyone be mad that we're chopping down their ancestors?" I looked around in surprised.
"No," Jack chortled. "Like I said, they're here to protect us, and they'll still be in the trees when they are the walls of your cabin," he added proudly.
"That cabin is going to be crowded," Mulder chuckled.
"We are always surrounded by our ancestors," Jack's tone was very serious.
"I wish my family was that close," I whispered, feeling tears start to well up in my eyes. I tried not to think about the fact that I would never see my mother or brothers again. At least I had Mulder, and we were starting a family of our own. I also had my new friends, and they had welcomed us with open arms, but these things would never manage to soothe the ache in my heart. I was sure my mother thought I was dead; another daughter lost to an ideal she never understood.
Mulder put a swaddled hand on my leg, knowing that all he could give me was support. I tried to smile at him as I blinked back my tears. My attempt, however, was in vain. Despite my efforts, I felt a single cold tear slide down my cheek. As I reached up quickly to brush it away, I heard Wanik murmur something to Jack. They spoke so quickly that I couldn't make out any of the words.
"Wanik wanted to know why you were sad," Jack turned and spoke softly to me. "When I told her she asked me to remind you that you were adopted by the tribe and we are your family."
"I know, Jack, and thank you, but -," I began to explain, but he cut me off.
"That wasn't all she said," his voice was still slow and soothing. "She wanted you to know that when someone you love is far away, you always have them here," he put a hand to chest. That is why she isn't sad when I'm away, because I'm always here."
"Oh, Wanik," I murmured as a fresh onslaught of tears began. After putting my bowl down, I walked around the fire and knelt down beside her to give her a hug. "Miigwech, Wanik." As I held her tightly, she said something else to Jack, her voice still soft and melodic.
"And you are always in their hearts. The pain is there so you never forget." Jack's translation made me squeeze her even harder.
I still hadn't loosened my grip when Omiga's rumbling voice startled me. Before Jack could translate for me, Wanik began to pull out of our embrace. I assumed he was there to look at Mulder's hands, but when Jack began to translate, he was looking at me.
"Omiga is going to change Chachu's poultice. He wants us both to go so you can learn the names of the different medicines."
I glanced around at all of the dirty dishes and realized that I'd have to clean them later. Normally Mulder would have taken care of them for me, but that was hardly possible, considering the state of his hands.
By the time I was on my feet, Omiga was already halfway back to his wigwam. When I caught up with him, he was picking up the pot we'd used for the poultice earlier that day.
"I know, biidoo - nibi," I chuckled when he handed it to me.
When I returned with the water, he and Jack were waiting for me by the fire. Omiga had all of his pouches beside him. After I hung the water over the fire, I sat down beside him and he began to speak immediately. Jack began to translate right away. There was no way I could listen to what Omiga was saying and then listen for the meaning, so I had to concentrate on Jack's voice and Omiga's hands.
"Put the poplar bark in first, because it needs to boil the longest. When it begins to soften, put it in the cloth with the other medicine. This bark works as a poultice and in the tea I gave your husband."
Omiga gave me the bark to feel and smell before I put it into the cheesecloth. He did the same with each leaf and flower that went into the poultice.
"This grows on the vine, like grapes," he explained as he handed me a blossom that looked similar to clover, but it was brown.
"This leaf grows on the bush with the branches that bend easily. It grows near the stream," Jack explained as Omiga handed me a heart shaped leaf.
We continued in the same way with all of the ingredients until we got to the last one; the one Omiga said would hurt the baby.
"And you know this one," Omiga took the cloth away from me. "This purple flower that grows by the river will help to reduce swelling, but if you even only touch the flower, you could lose your baby."
"But I did touch the poultice," I reminded him, my heart rate increasing.
"Not enough," Omiga shook his head as Jack spoke. "Only the flower. Once it is mixed in with everything else, it isn't strong enough to harm you. But you should still be careful."
"I will," I started to smile at him to assure, but a scream from the camp made my blood turn cold. "What was that?" I scrambled to my feet.
"Nothing for you to worry about, Day-na," Jack stood up and put his hand on my arm.
"But -," I looked toward the sound of a woman sobbing.
Omiga ignored the sounds and began to speak again. "Now take the poplar bark out and add it to the rest. We'll boil all of it together until the smell is right."
As I fished the poplar bark out, I tried to figure out what was going on, but I didn't hear any words that I recognized. I'd just set the softened bark onto the cheesecloth when Mulder ran up to us.
"I can't tell what's happening," he panted. "I ran to see if Chachu was okay as soon as I heard the scream. He's awake and looking fine, well, forlorn, but okay."
"It is about Dasan, not Chachu," Jack kept his voice low.
"What about him?" I asked as I poked at the poultice I'd placed into the boiling water.
"It is about his punishment," Jack informed us solemnly.
"Punishment?" I could see the confusion on Mulder's face in the firelight.
"He was there when Chachu was hurt," I told Mulder. "Is that why he's being punished?"
"No," Jack shook his head quickly. "He and Chachu were playing a dangerous game. They had tied their wrists together and they were fighting with knives."
"Is that some kind of traditional game?" Mulder's voice rose in alarm.
"There is a traditional game that involves tying the wrists together. It is a test of strength and speed. Traditionally it does not involve knives," Jack explained.
"Is that why Dasan is being punished? For using a knife?" I whirled around from the fire - the small knives we'd brought for the boys foremost in my mind. "Is Chachu going to be punished too?"
"Dasan is not being punished for using a knife. He is being punished for taking a knife that was not his to take," Jack informed us sadly.
"Oh," Mulder winced.
"What will his punishment be?" I couldn't remember ever seeing any of the children being punished, with the exception of the occasional sharp word.
"That is why the elders were meeting," Jack looked back over his shoulder. "They must have reached a decision. That must be why his mother was crying."
I wanted to ask more; to find out what kind of punishment would have made his mother so upset, but Omiga began to speak again.
"The medicine is ready. Smell it," he instructed.
I leaned over to take a whiff. The acrid fumes were very familiar. It smelled the same as the poultice Omiga had used on me when I'd first arrived here. When I had Jack repeat that to Omiga, the old healer grinned.
"I hoped you would remember," he grinned toothlessly and then bent to pluck the cheesecloth from the steaming water with his leathery fingers.
I had a patient to think about; worrying about Dasan's punishment would have to wait. By the time Omiga and I had finished with Chachu everyone in the village had retired for the night. I was surprised when Omiga stayed with me all the way back to my wigwam. I hadn't ever seen anyone worry about a woman's safety here. When he came inside with me, I remembered that he had said he'd be back to look at Mulder's hands again.
Mulder was a far better patient for Omiga than he ever was for me. He sat, uncomplaining, while Omiga changed his dressings and put fresh ointment on his hands. I sat back and watched. The only light was provided by a candle that Mulder had somehow managed to light.
To my amazement, his palms were already less red and raw looking. It could have just been a trick of the light. I certainly didn't think he was ready to work with an axe again, but I also knew better than to bring it up again. He was serious about trekking back to Madison. I hated not having any other options, but as hard as I wracked my brain, I couldn't come up with any.
It had been my idea to come back here in the first place and I'd agreed to Mulder's only stipulation; the cabin. I knew I'd never be allowed to take his place in the wood lot. I was incredibly lucky that Omiga was teaching me what he knew. My adopted family would surely disown me if I ever overstepped my bounds. Everyone else here was already helping as much as they could. Winter was coming and every free hand was needed to help prepare. When the cabin was finished, we were going to have to pitch in to make up for the time we'd taken away. The only thing I could do was to keep a close eye on his hands to make sure they didn't become infected.
"Scully!" Mulder interrupted my thoughts.
"Hmm?" I looked up to find that we were alone.
"What were you thinking about?"
I only shrugged, no wanting to start the argument again.
"Jack found out what Dasan's punishment will be," Mulder continued, apparently unaware of my concerns. "He came to tell me while you were seeing Chachu."
"And?" I wasn't sure I wanted to know.
"He's going to be shunned," Mulder's face was grim.
"Shunned?" I was shocked. "For how long?"
"One day, from sunrise tomorrow to sunrise the following day."
"Overnight, Mulder? But he's just a child." It seemed extreme to me.
"I said the same thing, Scully, but he was basically tried as an adult. He stole something and then used it to injure someone."
"But he didn't mean to," I argued.
"Yes, but the reason he took the knife was to prove how grown up he was. Now he is being punished like an adult."
It sounded like Mulder was repeating what Jack had said. I was sure he'd made all the same arguments I was making.
"Shunning him will remind him that he is dependent on the people here, that everyone depends on each other. If they can't trust him, he isn't welcome here."
"I know the theory, Mulder," I frowned. "But the nights are cold now. What will he eat?" I could understand why his mother was so upset.
"He'll be fine, Scully. I'm sure he knows how to take care of himself in the woods better than we do, and we did all right," he pointed out.
"I guess," I muttered, not bothering to remind him that it was midsummer, not late fall, when we were fending for ourselves. There was no point debating the issue with Mulder. We wouldn't be able to change the elders' minds. "So we can't talk to him for a day?"
"We can't acknowledge his existence for a day," Mulder clarified. "It will be like he's dead."
"If only we hadn't brought those damned knives," I felt tears sting at my eyes.
"Then something Jack brought back would've caught his eye. We didn't make him take it. He knew the rules and chose to break them. He also knew what the punishment would probably be," Mulder settled into the bed.
"Does that make you feel any better?" I asked in disbelief.
"Not really," he shrugged. "But worrying about something you can't change won't make you feel any better either, will it?"
"I guess not," I sighed.
"He'll be fine, Scully. He'd be okay for a day, even if he couldn't find anything to eat. You know that. And he'll have plenty to drink. He'll be a little hungry and a little cold, but he'll know better than take anything for granted again," Mulder tried to console me. "It's going to be a long day tomorrow, Scully. Come to bed," he nodded to the empty spot beside him.
Nodding, I slipped out of my dress. After blowing out the candle, I felt my way to my side of the bed and crawled under the covers.
"Goodnight, Mulder," I breathed as I pulled the blankets over my shoulder.
"Scully?"
"Yeah?" As worried as I was about Mulder, Dasan and Chachu, my need for rest was winning out and I was beginning to drift off already.
"Are you mad at me?"
End chapter 12