CHAPTER 10
"Do not follow the devil into the night!" Paw bellows. "I am frightened that I will lose more of my precious family."
Two Moons stops at the edge of the forest and holds his position. They remain like this, hearing the heavy breathing of Black Bear for what seems an eternity.
"He hides in the shadows. He won't give up the fight."
Paw looks up at the sky and realizes why. "He's waiting for nightfall."
"Retrieve my father and I will guard you," Two Moons insists.
Paw wraps the golden lance in a buffalo hide. He ties a leather strap to it and slings it across his chest. He and Two Moons secure Lone Wolf's remains and mount two of the straggling horses, returning Lone Wolf's mangled remains to the village.
As they leave, Black Bear emerges from of the forest and stands erect on his hind legs. He lifts one paw up and down, waving good-bye.
"Why did they take his body?" John asks.
"Kiowa custom. They don't leave no man behind," Charlie answers.
"Did they go back for any of the other Kiowa?" Zack asks.
"Of course!" Charlie proudly proclaims.
"I wish were Chief Black Bear." Luther snickers, thinking about the power he could have.
"I wish I were Lone Wolf," Kevin says with a heavy sigh.
"None of that matters, boys. All that matters is that Injuns is real particular about how they prepare their dead."
The boys listen intently, completely focused on their scoutmaster.
"Paw and Two Moons weren't about to let wolves or coyotes dig up Lone Wolf. That would be disrespectful and against Indian law. Now, the way Indians bury their dead is different from how we do it. First, they make a cot out of tree branches and hoist their loved one up on top of a stretched-out buffalo blanket. Next, they use tall polls to hoist the body up in the air so nothing can get to it. Then they leave behind weapons, shields, magic pouches, and even a little food for the journey ahead. Finally they kill his horse, so he will have something to ride to the happy hunting grounds."
"They killed his horse?" Zack gasps in shock.
Charlie nods and then continues. "After the attack, the Kiowa traveled far from their southern lands for many weeks, until they finally reached the northern part of where Washington is today. Except it wasn't the Olympic peninsula then. It was just called the north land, where three rivers fork and feed into the 'everywhere waters.'"
"Which rivers?" Zack wonders.
"Let's see here…I believe it was the Sol Duc, the Calawah, and Bogachiel Rivers. I could be wrong though."
"What is 'everywhere water'?" Luther asks.
John slams his limp wrist into his chest. "That's the ocean, duh!"
Luther makes a sour face and sticks his tongue out.
"This was part of the Kiowa annual journey. During the rainy Washington winters, they would migrate down south, sometimes as far as Texas. When summer would get too hot, they'd move on back up to Washington. Year after year they would do this circuit." Charlie draws a large circle with his finger.
The Kiowa gather beneath a cloudy gray sky. Though the sky is dark, and the wind howls, Water Boy holds back his mighty tears. The tribe doesn't. Women release their death wails. The terrible shrieks and cries spread from one squaw to the next. They thrash their clothes and tear their hair out.
Two Moons drops a drumstick on his father's favorite drum. The dull beat and the high shrieked death rattles send the entire tribe into mournful sorrow. This ritual goes on for most of the day.
"His cunning and strength were unmatched," Paw bemoans.
"He saved our lives," Two Moons says, patting his younger brother.
"Remember the reward he has given us. His bravery brings tears to our eyes. His loss brings sorrow to our hearts," Onendah, the medicine man, crows.
Family members pass around Lone Wolf's scalping knife and cut themselves to remember him.
Paw cuts his chest deep across his heart.
Lone Wolf's body is perfectly wrapped in buffalo hides and tied to a makeshift plank. The plank is suspended high off the ground and decorated with his war bonnet, his weapons, and his magic pouch.
An elderly woman plays her flute while Two Moons lightly taps his drum. Onendah stretches his arms toward the heavens and opens his hands.
"Mount Storm Shadow and let him carry your spirit to the happy hunting grounds, where you will never starve or freeze and the sun will always shine. Follow the distant light to the place you have stored the horses you sacrificed and all the things you laid at the gods' feet. Move through these dark clouds of sorrow, till the darkness fades and the clouds turn white. This is where we will hold you, high in our hearts of happiness for the life you lived. Your life made our lives brighter, and for that we sing your name."
"Lone Wolf, our great warrior!" the tribe chants, swaying.
While they chant, Grass Woman, Lone Wolf's wife, rests her hand against a tree. She passes his scalping knife to her sister-in-law and looks away. Dancing Fawn takes the knife by the handle, then quickly slams the blade onto Grass Woman's pinkie finger and chops the digit in half.
"Arrrggghh!" the mourning widow screams. She holds her hand up and shouts, "This is how I will always remember you, Lone Wolf, my love! You were my great war chief. My greatest love. This tiny piece of me that you have taken with you is nothing compared to your death, which has taken all of my heart."
She wraps the wound, scoops up some ash from the fire, and scrubs her face black. Turning toward the sun, she howls, resuming the mourning wail.
While the tribe mourns, Onendah continues. "Father of the heavens and the earth calls you home. He sends the great white horse, Storm Shadow, to greet you. Go to him. Go to the great creator. Find peace in your new home and wait patiently for your little woman. Your sons. And, one day, your tribe. Till we meet again." Onendah finishes the prayer and lowers his hands. "Find peace."
A rush of wind picks up and nearly blows Lone Wolf's body over. His people stabilize the pine poles. Through the clouds, a single ray of light blasts out of the darkness and rests on Lone Wolf's wrapped body. Vapors rise off his mangled chest.
Only the medicine man, Onendah, can see the vapors take form. They ascend to the heavens and gather in the light. The medicine man shakes his rattling wand and releases Lone Wolf's spirit. Off in the great distance, he sees Lone Wolf's misty image for a brief moment, riding off on the spirit horse. Clouds re-cover the sun's single ray, and Lone Wolf's bright spirit disappears in the gloomy sky.
Paw mourns and laments till he collapses. When he has squeezed the last ounce of sorrow out of his heart, he is determined to fulfill his promise. On his way to deliver the golden lance to Onendah, he walks through the village.
"That is a good story you paint on the side of your tepee, Grass Woman," he compliments Lone Wolf's widow.
She turns and looks at him. Her hair is a matted, tangled mess and her eyes are wild. "Arrrggggh!" She screams, leaping into her tepee like a frog leaps into a pond.
Paw continues his stroll through the tight cluster of tepees. He admires the paintings on their sides.
Children in loincloths chase half-wolf dogs through the camp. Hunters drag an elk into camp from their morning hunt. Squaw go to work stripping its hide in preparation for turning it into clothes. He strolls through the village until he reaches the center, stopping outside Onendah's white tepee. With his fingers, he traces the yellow sun, the blue mountains, and the lightning bolts painted on the side of the tepee. In just a few images, he reads the story of the medicine man's life.
"Medicine man, may I enter?" Paw calls out, alerting Onendah to his presence.
"You aren't sick!"
A quizzical expression forms in Paw's calm, wide-set eyes. He tilts his square jaw to the side and presses his high brows together.
"No, I am not."
"You are sad?"
Paw takes a deep breath and sighs. "All of us are rich with sorrow."
"Take your brother's pants to the warm springs. Wash them. Soak in the springs for two days and then wear them. His legs will become yours. You will walk from your sorrow for many days until you learn to run from it. Once you have outrun your pain, you may take his legs off and walk on your own."
For the first time since his brother's death, Paw feels tinges of hope sprout inside him. His fingers drop from the painted images to the leather bag in his hands. He wonders if he should not keep the golden lance for himself. For it is all that is left of your brother, he thinks.
The temptation lasts only momentarily. From the depths of his mind, his brother's face surfaces. He sees Lone Wolf in his last battle. He sees his brother fall, witnesses his sacrifice, then sees him pointing to the golden lance.
It was all for this, Paw realizes, and I am not worthy of it.
A vital note to the reader: I will be releasing 5 chapters a day until christmas. This is my gift to you, the devoted reader searching for the next new classic. If you find yourself insatiably wanting more, I invite you to visit Amazon where you will find the book under, "Harvest Moon" by Zachary Lovelady. If your mind hungers for imagery, visit our instagram: harvestmoonofficial