Part I: The Gathering Storm (1809-1810)

Chapter 5: The Wolf

Two canoes arrived at the beach at La Push filled with a hundred Makah singing together as they dipped their paddles into the sea. The Makah clan wore their finest painted red and white blankets and they sang their potlatch song to their hosts to thank them for the honor of their invitation. The Quileute sang their own song of welcome to their guests and brought them into the potlatch house for the opening feast. The invited guests from the Makah, and a few families of Hoh, piled onto the beach until it seemed there were more people than pebbles.

For days, the massive potlatch house at La Push was prepared for the feast. Gifts of blankets, tools, carvings, and dried food were laid out in piles, precisely calculated and organized for their time of ceremonial gifting. The Quileute, also, prepared themselves. The high-born women spent days having their skin massaged and lotioned to make them beautiful. They washed their long hair until it fell heavy to their waists and shone black as raven's wings. Both men and women painted their faces with red and brown paint to demonstrate their status and occupation and wore their best adornments in preparation for the feast.

Within, Rolling-Thunder's father sang the chief's song, the song he inherited from his father and which only he could sing. For days upon days, they would dance and feast and celebrate together.

It was time to present the Makah with their gifts of slaves. It was time to give the ho-kwat woman away.

Oooooo

"No," Rolling-Thunder's father had told his son the night before the potlatch was set to begin. His dark eye's were as stern as flint and his brow furrowed in somber refusal of his son's request.

"There are other slaves we can give," Rolling-Thunder responded. He motioned to the forest around him as if the trees themselves were the slaves he referred to. His father only shook his head, not meeting his son's gaze. He knelt to the forest floor to examine one of his fur traps and pretended the trap required his complete attention.

"I have seen you," his father said. "When you think I do not see, I have seen you. Did you think I would fail to notice you gifting presents to the slave woman or following her around the beach as if you were a pup and not a warrior? You are second son of the greatest chief of the Quileute. You may not wed a slave."

Rolling-Thunder opened his mouth to protest but his father's stern glare stopped him. "If you were a commoner and she proved herself in possession of some great skill or power, I would not object, but you are in the line of succession and from the most powerful family among the People of the Wolf. You may not wed a slave, even if you wish to. There are chief's daughters enough in the longhouses of the Quileute, Hoh, and Makah. Choose a Nootka if you must. Raid the longhouses of the Haida nobles if you dare. Marry an entire fistful from among them if you wish, but not a slave."

Rolling-Thunder ground his teeth together and curled his hands into fists at his sides.

"Yutramaki's father was given a Makah slave as wife during his stay with the Nootka," Rolling-Thunder argued. "The ho-kwat man stayed with them for a time and his wife taught him their language and ways and he taught her the ways of his people. Perhaps, if I have such a wife, she can assist me in my trade deals with the ho-kwat and teach me their ways and customs so we may gain greater wealth."

"That ho-kwat man was a blustering fool that not even a woman as wise as Ta-lo-ah could help succeed. Also, as you so clearly pointed out, both were slaves at the time. Ta-lo-ah may have been a daughter of a Makah chief, but she was a slave of the Nootka and it would have been unseemly for any chief's son to wed her," his father answered. "No, my son. The ho-kwat show no more respect for their women than a male bear with a female bear. Among the people of our lands, our men listen to the wisdom of our women. The tales of those who have intermarried with the ho-kwat say they are brutish men who heed the voices of their wives less than those of their children. You would be better served with a high-born woman from among one of our neighbors if it is a wise alliance and an increase of wealth that you seek."

Rolling-Thunder, knew he would gain little by continuing to argue with his father. The chief had spoken. Rolling-Thunder was not dissuaded from his purpose, however, he would need to accomplish it another way.

As an honored warrior among his people, he could bypass the traditional wedding ceremony and take the girl as wife without the permission of his family. His family would be upset, but the woman had no kin to declare war to gain her back and his family could not refuse him if won her for himself.

Like any skilled hunter, he would wait quietly and patiently for the opportune time. Fortunately for him, she would soon fall under the ownership of his brother-in-law, Yutramaki. He would need to pay restitution, but it would not be difficult to marry the woman without insulting Yutramaki or instigating a rivalry between clans. He would need to wait for the opportune moment.

oooo

After five days of feasting and merry-making, it was time for the Makah and Hoh to return to their homes, their canoes heavy in the water with their many gifts. They were sent away from LaPush filled with reminders not only of the greatness of the Quileute, but the borders of their territory on land and sea, and of the longstanding alliances between clans.

"It has been long since you visited your favorite sister," She-Dances told her brother. He grinned and pulled his canoe into the water alongside the many Makah canoes preparing to depart.

"You have missed your favorite brother," he answered and was rewarded with a splash of cold sea water on his face.

She-Dances, the elder sister of Rolling-Thunder, was content in her place with the Makah. Her husband was a good man, a bit eccentric and with an unusual fondness for the ways of the ho-kwat, but he was a man of honor with a generous heart. He took care of his wives and children well and none in his household, slaves included, were treated ill or went hungry.

Yutramaki had been delighted with his new acquisition when he was presented with the slave during the potlatch. He immediately saw the variety of potential uses the woman could have.

"If the ho-kwat men still wish for her, perhaps I can use her to gain more slaves or more goods from the wandering men," he said. "Does she have any useful skills?"

"None that we have discerned," Rolling-Thunder said.

Yutramaki went to introduce himself to the ho-kwat woman he now owned and he gave the woman a flourished bow. He spoke to her in the language of his father.

Growls-at-Bears shook her head with an apologetic grin and said, "I don't understand" in Quileute. Yutramaki answered her in Quileute before turning to Rolling-Thunder.

"I do not understand. She does not speak the language of the ho-kwat? Perhaps she speaks the tongue of the peoples of the far northern waters, like her companions that were captured by the Hoh?"

"Perhaps the ho-kwat speak more than one language?" Rolling-Thunder suggested. "I do not think each white drifting house we meet comes from the same direction or carries the same peoples."

"No, no," Yutramaki protested. "They must all be the same. They look the same and they sound the same, therefore they must be the same. How many peoples can there be like them? They must all speak the same language."

Rolling-Thunder shook his head at his brother-in-law, but Yutramaki ignored him.

"The ho-kwat must have very little in their homelands if they must come and seek our furs and trees and marry our women. Do you suppose they have a shortage women or animals in the places they come from?"

"Perhaps their chiefs are ungenerous and so they must travel far from their lands to gain wealth and honor," Rolling-Thunder answered. To be ungenerous was a very serious moral failing in a man.

"It must be so," Yutramaki said. "I have met many who do not understand how to be generous or how to be great men. If some of these men stay with us, we will teach them and they will learn how to live well."'

Yutramaki's father was a ho-kwat man who never learned to "live well," no matter how diligent his Nootka masters were in trying to teach him. The ho-kwat man chose to recuperate from an illness among the Nootka rather than continue his voyage on an English fur-trading ship. He gained his freedom long before Yutramaki could learn his father's face or ways and the Makah chief spent his adult life aiding other captured foreigners and learning their ways in honor of the father he had always wished to know.

Rolling-Thunder had visited the winter home of Yutramaki's family a few times over the years for potlatches, rituals, and weddings. A few times, conflicts arose that required Quileute warriors to attack the Makah longhouses and, on occasion when they were in need of more wealth and slaves, they raided the Makah to acquire what they wished for. Rolling-Thunder knew them well enough to know how to speak their tongue and know their ways.

The Makah were people of the ocean who hunted seals and whales. They were not formed along the rivers and did not hunt in the forests as often as the Quileute. However, they were much more numerous and their villages covered the lands north of the Quillayute River to Neah Bay.

Rolling-Thunder's father was not pleased by his son's decision to follow the Makah home, but he could not refuse him. His son was of age and was a respected warrior. It would dishonor Yutramaki to deny his son's request to accompany them, even if he suspected his son's motives were not purely to visit his sister. The chief ground his teeth and glared at his son, but dared not speak against him leaving.

Growls-at-Bears was silent on the canoe journey back to the Makah home. She understood enough to know she had been given away again and he could see the anxiety written under her pale features. He followed the large canoe as it made its way north through the waves. His own canoe held water well. It was built for only two passengers and so its speed and agility were much greater than those of the large Makah canoes which carried fifty people each. He paddled circles around the larger canoes, teasing them for how slow they moved and throwing seaweed at his sister to make her laugh. Nothing he did, however, could bring a smile to the ho-kwat woman. She spoke with no one and made eye contact with him only once during the day long journey to her new home.

oooo

Anna clung to her little painting of Mary and said her prayers beneath her bear skin blanket. She closed her eyes and chanted the words again and again, but her mind wandered as she did. She fought back her tears and ensured no sound broke the silence of the sleeping longhouse.

It was a new house, a new family, a new village, and a new place. To make matters worse, they spoke an entirely different language. She had to start all over again and she was so tired of being perpetually lost and confused.

A few spoke Quileute and these ones, at least, she could converse with. The new chief was kind to her. He was a handsome man, tall and with fine features, and he spoke Quileute fluently. His second wife was the sister of Rolling-Thunder and also proved herself a gentle, compassionate woman. Rolling-Thunder accompanied them to the Makah village, a familiar face among an ocean of so many strangers.

"You eat it as a sauce," She-Dances whispered during the evening meal. Anna had stared at the food, lost at what to do with another strange meal. She-Dances, catching her confusion, instructed her what she was supposed to do. "It's seal blubber. It's very good. Pour it on your food."

There were other things Anna wished to know but that she could not ask about. For one, she did not know what to make of the gifts that kept appearing in her bed.

Her first week among the Makah, she found a bead and shell necklace hidden beneath her blanket. She pulled it out in confusion, until she caught Rolling-Thunder's watchful eye and he grinned. She did not wear it, but kept it hidden, along with her little icon.

When a pair of thick deer hide moccasins appeared in her bed a few nights later, her qualms quickly disintegrated. She did not care who they were from or what accepting the gift meant, she immediately pulled the shoes over her sore feet with a happy sigh and reveled in how quickly her feet warmed.

A few nights later, a container of brown face paint and a set of earrings waited for her and she sighed. She was not so naive to misunderstand what it meant to have a man single her out with his attention and gifts. Yet she did not know what she was supposed to do.

The other slaves came from as far north as the Tlingit and as far south as the Chinook. They were exchanged and traded as regularly as salmon went to spawn. They told stories of the places they have lived and peoples who they came from. In hushed voices, they spoke of the various masters who had owned them or that they had heard tell of.

Some treated them as another member of the family and kept them warm and well-fed. Others were hard-hearted and let them go hungry. Still others, the most fearful of all, were evil-hearted. These showed their great strength and might by killing their slaves without hesitation.

"Yutramaki is a good chief," the other slaves told her. "He will take care of you well. Stay with him, if you are given the choice."

The choice. As if she was ever given a choice over her fate.

Anna clung to her little painting of Mary and stared into it again. Rolling-Thunder had captured a glance of it one day and asked her about it. She quickly hid it in a pouch beneath her skirt and refused to answer.

How was she to explain the importance of the Holy Mother to him? In her limited vocabulary and the vast expanse of difference between their belief systems, she didn't know how. She had never even explained it to Nikolai. He had dismissed her prayers to the Virgin Mary as silly feminine folly and idle superstition.

But that was so Nikolai. He was, through and through, a Russian man. He could not understand why she felt such a kinship with the Holy Mother any more than he could understand the innermost workings of a cat (not that he tried to understand either). Nikolai rarely questioned what her thoughts or desires were and simply assumed he either knew them or they did not exist. She existed purely as an accessory to him and his life. Her job was to be a submissive Russian wife and no part of her existed outside of that role. If her "idle superstition" helped her play that part, he tolerated it.

However, if he had ever taken the time to ask her "why," he probably would have felt differently. To Anna, she had always felt drawn to the story of Mary, the woman chosen by God and granted with a task that changed the world. She was an unmarried virgin, unconnected to a man, and her task set her beyond the protection of both father and husband. Yet she still accepted it gladly. In an era of great men and kings and emperors and prophets, Mary turned the world upside down - not by being a great man but by being a chosen woman. She was chosen by God for a holy task just as she was and God's compassion, care, and provision surrounded her in each successive step, no matter how many great men and kings and emperors and prophets came against her.

Anna chanted her prayers by rote, internally pleading for that same compassion, care, and provision to surround her in the task given to her. In the time and place in which she found herself, she could only pray that she could, like Mary, be willing to fulfill what she was called to and chosen for, regardless of how many great men and kings and emperors and prophets opposed her.

Oooooo

It was a day of great celebration among the Makah. Their canoes of whale hunters came to the beach with the carcass of a grey whale in tow. Their spears had proved victorious and all would eat well that week. The villagers gathered around the whale to clean it and collect the whale oil in baskets to be shared amongst many families. A jubilant mood fell over the village and Makah from far and wide drifted to the beach to join in the feast.

Anna ran around the beach gathering driftwood for the fire she was told to set. The fire began to crackle and curl when she heard her name called. It was Rolling-Thunder. He was in a small canoe meant for only two to people carved with a wolf and an eagle on the curved bow. He waved at her and jumped into the shallows to pull his canoe onto the shore.

"There will be a great meal tonight," he said.

She nodded politely, but did not know what else to say.

"Come," he said and he gave her a paddle. She turned the paddle over in her hands and looked at him in confusion. What did he want her to do with the paddle?

"They will not be ready to eat for some time and you will not be missed," he said. He took hold of her arm and pulled her in the direction of his canoe. She failed to follow and gave him a wary glance.

"Come!" he said again. It was not a command, but an invitation. He tugged on her arm again and this time, she followed. He pushed the canoe back into the shallows and steadied her arm as she waded through the cold water to enter into the bow. It rocked unsteadily as she sat and she nearly lost her balance. He spoke something that she could not understand, but she understood the tone enough to know he was teasing her. She sat and clung to the paddle and the side of the canoe as he pushed her into deeper water. Then he jumped into the stern behind her.

The sound of gentle rhythmic splashes in the water propelled them forward. He directed the canoe into deeper water, farther and farther from the beach.

Then he began to teach her instructions.

"Right side…left side...stop…faster…Deeper into the water," he said again and again. Slowly, she learned both the words and what she was supposed to do with the paddle. Soon, they were skimming over the surface of the water like a flat pebble skipping on the surface of a pond, fast enough for a breeze to dance through her hair. The ripples of the waves spread around her in every direction, as far as she could see, until they broke against the craggy cliffs and spires of unending trees on the distant shore.

There were many words to learn that day: canoe, paddle, fish, ocean, whale. She nearly screamed when a pod of orca breached a stone's throw away from their canoe. They vanished again beneath the waves and breached again farther away, sending a shower of water into the air like a herd of fountains.

Rolling-Thunder laughed and taught her the word for whale. She was not sure if it was the general term or the term for that specific whale, but it didn't matter. She learnt it all the same.

"Thunderbird helps us to catch whales," he said. "They say a Quileute man married a daughter of Thunderbird and Thunderbird helped teach the man to catch whales. That is how our Whalers learn to hunt."

He told her to stop paddling and let the canoe drift in the current. It rose and fell under the steady rhythm of waves and they watched the whales swim past, their black and white noses peeking from the surface as they went.

He came to the ocean because he loved it, she realized. He lay his head back in his canoe, eyes closed, listening to the sound of the waves and basking in the ocean. His entire demeanor relaxed into a contagious contentedness. She noticed, then, that Rolling-Thunder could not be so very much older than herself.

"As a child, I never saw the ocean," she said. "It was far."

He opened his eyes and looked at her as if that was a concept so outlandish she could not possibly mean what he thought she meant.

"No ocean?"

"No. Too far."

"No canoe?"

"No canoe."

"You must have no nobles, then," he said, as if that cleared up his confusion. "No canoes mean no warriors or whale hunts or potlatches and so no great men. Canoes are for brides to be carried to weddings and chiefs to be buried in at funerals. Canoes are everything that make a man great."

"There were nobles, but they had land and horses, not canoes," she answered, thinking, not for the first time, of the home and family she had left behind. She doubted she would ever see them again and she wished she could have seen her mother's face one last time.

"It is good you have come. You now know canoes," he said, so seriously that she bit back a chuckle.

He lay back in the canoe, eyes closed, humming a tune to himself as the canoe rocked in the waves. Then he opened one eye, slapped his hand into a wave, and sent water crashing onto her shoulder. She squeaked in surprise and jumped so fast she threw the entire boat off balance and sent them both tumbling into the ocean.

Growing up on the farm, she had never learned to swim and the cold waters of Kodiak did not encourage her to learn as an adult. She panicked, grabbed hold of the boat, and she frantically gulped in a mouthful of sea water. Rolling-Thunder, at first surprised by the suddenly upset canoe, quickly let amusement take over, laughing and splashing in the water-until he saw Anna struggling to stay afloat. He grew serious again and swam to the other side of the boat to help her grab hold of the edge. She clung to it and struggled to catch her breath. She coughed and spluttered as she bobbed up and down in the waves, the bitterly cold water biting into her body from all directions.

He shouted directions at her that she could not understand. She panicked again as he drew her hands away from the edge of the boat. She was too afraid to recognize he was trying to turn the boat right side up until he had already set the boat upright. He pushed her into the boat before climbing in after her. Then he took his paddle and turned for shore, paddling with all his strength to reach it.

They came to the deserted beach and he pulled the canoe onto the sand. After helping her out of the canoe, he led her to a rocky overhang that cut off some of the wind and he took off his deer skin cape and draped it over her shoulders. It was wet, but warm. Then he began to gather driftwood into a pile near her feet. She shook nearly uncontrollably as she huddled into herself.

Rolling-Thunder did not mind the cold as he worked, now wearing nothing but a deer skin around his waist, his long hair hanging loose and sticking to his wet back.

It was not long before blue and yellow flames licked over the wood, spreading tendrils of smoke and warmth over where she sat. He produced a pouch of dried fish from the canoe, now a bit soggy and overly salted, but still edible and he handed it to her. They sat in silence, listening to the waves and the crackle of the fire until she stopped shivering and her animal skins and cedar skirt began to dry out.

He hummed the same tune again, under his breath, before adding in words. It was a song about a wolf, but she knew very few of the words except for "ocean" and "star" and "hunt." He sang contentedly to himself as he finished off whatever fish she failed to eat.

"We had wolves at home. In the forests," she said when he finished his song. "We fear them."

"Wolves are strong and brave. It is good to fear them. Our stories say our people come from wolves and that is why we are strong and brave."

"In our stories, the wolves are always evil," she said.

He considered that and furrowed his brow. Then he shook his head. "Wolves are like people. They can be good or evil. To their own kin, they fight to keep them safe and never leave them. To those who are not their kin, those who wish them harm or stand in the way of what they want, they are dangerous. The spirit of Wolf helps our warriors be strong and brave when we fight to protect our families."

"I fear them," she said simply with a nod of her head.

"We respect them, not fear them," he said. "There are other creatures to fear here."

"What do you fear?" she asked, not necessarily wishing to know the answer.

"There are stories of a woman called Dásk'iya'. She steals children and eats them. She is very greedy and will steal children and keep them and eat them when she is hungry. They say she is a beautiful woman and often stops to admire her reflection in the water. She has long, long hair that reaches to her heels and she wears a snakeskin dress that only falls to her knees. She does not speak the language of the Quileute, but a strange tongue of a people far from here.

"Some say she is sister to K'Wati, the Transformer who makes and remakes the world and everything in it. Others say K'Wati killed her because she is evil. Others say she is nearly impossible to kill, except she can be killed with fire and that she sinks in water like a rock. Others say that when she is caught in a trap, she disappears like a meteor. There are many different stories.

"I have never seen her, but my grandfather says he saw her once as a boy and she was so beautiful, he wished to go to her, until his father chased her away with a burning stick. She must never age, since she is always the same. She travels up and down and across the land and sea, stealing children away."

"It is a fearful story," Anna said with a grimace.

"You need not fear. You have a descendent of a wolf to protect you," he said with a wide grin. Then he pretended to howl like a wolf and come closer to her with his teeth bared. She laughed. He came up closer and closer to her. Hidden in the shade of the overhanging, fern-draped rocks, they could not be seen from the sea. He ceased imitating a wolf to kneel on the pebbled beach in front of her. He gazed into her face so intently that she flushed and tried to move away, but he followed. He caught her in his arms, pulling her into his chest, and breathing in the scent of her hair, whispering words she could not fully understand. However, she understood the hunger in his eyes and the rapid beat of his heart well enough to know what he was after.

Instead of answering him in kind, she stiffened and inhaled sharply. She attempted to wriggle away, but found she was caught like a deer in a trap and he would not loosen his grip on her. When his arms began to explore her back and sides, she panicked and grabbed the first rock her hands came across. She pounded on his chest with the rock, landing blows with all her strength and showering him with a litany of Russian curses.

He pulled away as if she were burning him with fire and raised both his hands to her, palms facing her. His expression warred between surprise, disappointment, hurt, and confusion. When he took a step toward her, she raised the rock and threw it at him, striking him soundly on his temple. He cried out and placed his hand on his temple where a trickle of blood now flowed.

"Stay away," she hissed in Quileute.

She felt as she had when she chased off the bear. Her heart pounded both in fear and elation. She clung to another rock, refusing to relinquish the one small defense she had access to. To her surprise, he moved away. He dropped his hands, placed the fire between them, and held up his hands in a show of surrender.

She backed herself into the overhanging rock and curled into a ball, still watching him warily while she gathered another pile of stones by her side and in her hands, just-in-case.

"You will not be wife of Rolling-Thunder?" he asked with a frown.

"No," she said, her heart pounding too loudly for her to even comprehend the question.

"But I am a warrior…you are a slave…You will be respected by all if you marry me. I will protect you and treat you well. I will give you many gifts."

"I have a husband," she said, and as she said it, she did not know whether she spoke the truth or not. Did Nikolai still live or had he died somewhere in the forest?

He fell silent, staring into the white caps of the waves beyond rather than looking at her. His countenance was a tumultuous as the breakers as he fought over what to say next. He gave her a half-smile that did not reach his eyes and lacked its usual brilliance.

"If you will fight with wolves and bears, you need better weapons," he said. He withdrew a silvery knife with a whalebone handle from a pouch around his waist. She held her rock closer to her and he chuckled.

"Knife good," he said. "Rocks are better than fern roots, but a knife is better than a rock."

He tossed it lightly through the air so it fell at her feet. She took the knife hesitatingly, but still clung to her rock. He nodded approvingly.

"Come," he said. "Let me teach you."

He stood and walked towards the treeline, but she did not follow. He tossed a look over his shoulder to where she still sat, huddled below the rocks and he held his hands upright to show they were empty.

"I will teach you to fight. You will not be my wife, I will not make you marry me, but I cannot protect you from others who may wish to have you as their wife. Come."

She followed, as wary as a rabbit following a wolf. He chose a tree and directed her to throw the knife into the tree. It missed completely. By the time the sun skimmed the clouds over the sea, she could at least hit the tree.

"Growls-at-Bears will make a fierce warrior," he said with a satisfied nod after she made her final throw. "We must go."

He separated the fire into dwindling embers and launched the canoe back into the ocean. She remained silent on the way home, lost in her thoughts. In her lap, she held both the hunting knife and one stone as she helped paddle the canoe with her sore arms.

What did all this mean? What would happen after this? She felt so overturned and uprooted by the day's events that she did not know what to even think about it all. What rose to the surface of her mind, more buoyantly than uprooted seaweed, was his retreat.

He could have forced his way on her, as some of the other slaves said had happened to them. However, he did not. She said "no" and the power of that moment reverberated through her soul like a leaf in a waterfall. Yes, Rolling-Thunder was a warrior and a respected leader among his people, but he still heard her and he let her keep her rock. In that moment, she had a choice and she clung to that even harder than she clung to her canoe paddle.

What would her father have done if she refused to marry Nikolai? What would Nikolai have done if she insisted on befriending her female neighbors? Her mind bounced back in time to the day that Nikolai had stolen the rock out of her hands, holding her back from to keep her "safe." Now, she not only had a rock in her hands, but a knife, and she was told to use both. She felt like she could sit taller than she had when she woke that morning.

Night had fully drenched the little winter village of the Makah by the time they reached. They could see the firelights gleaming like beacons leading them home as they approached. Other little flickers of lights dotted the dark expanse of the forest, showing where the Makah villages stood, carving out their own little homes through the forest.

Oooo

Rolling-Thunder left the Makah village after the next full moon. She was both relieved and saddened to see him go. She felt herself flush with embarrassment whenever she caught him looking at her, remembering what had happened on the beach. Rumors had flown through the camp after their reappearance on the beach and she could do little to salvage her reputation. In the quiet whispers of the Makah, she was as good as "married," though she was not sure she entirely understood what they meant by that.

It was only a few days after his departure that a big commotion sounded throughout the longhouse. A messenger arrived from the Hoh by canoe, nearly out of breath from how quickly he paddled to reach them. Yutramaki took the man aside and loud voices and cries were heard. Other Makah gathered around the longhouse, curiosity and worry making the air as tense as a taut bowstring. It was not long before Yutramaki emerged, his tan face now drawn and worried.

To her surprise, he asked for Anna and he called her into the longhouse.

"What is this about?" she asked.

"I have received grave news," he answered. "You remember my sister? She is married to a nephew of a chief among the Hoh and dwells near the mouth of the Hoh River."

"I remember her," Anna answered. "I met her different times at the potlatches and when she visited for your niece's naming."

"Your ho-kwat companions have captured my sister, who is most dear to me. She is now being held hostage and they say they will not release her unless their demands are met," he answered.

"Whatever do they want?" Anna asked.

"They said they will only release her on one condition: if we exchange her for you," he answered. "Will you come?"

Anna took a deep breath in and then nodded.

"I will."

oooo

Author's Notes:

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

Yutramaki (sometimes called Machee Ulatilla), Makah chief, is a pretty fascinating character. It is speculated that his father was John MacKay, an Irish ship's surgeon, stayed with the Nootka from 1786-1787. He had the opportunity to leave on another passing ship in 1786, but chose to stay with the Nootka longer. Initially, he was well-treated-until he accidentally broke a few taboos and fell out of favor with the chief.

The Makah are matrilineal so when his high-born mother won back her freedom and went home, her son was in line to become the next chief. Yutramaki helped arrange the release of another Nootka captive in 1805, an American named John Jewett.

Anna's relationship with the Virgin Mary is based off an article I found on Orthodox Russian women's ideas of Mary during this era.

There are a ton of different stories about Dásk'iya', the cannibal woman.