CHAPTER 13
Feeling more secure with the gifts, the mother fox lets the pups wander while she enjoys the meal. It would prove to be her fatal mistake. Paw watches the pups stumble this way and that. Each one scatters in a different direction. He tries to control them by throwing out little chunks of meat. They take the bait and move closer to him. He's happy to see the pups draw nearer. The demigod follows the bravest pup. Once it has come within reach, Paw carefully moves his cover out of the way. The answer to his problem, a crude basket made from twigs, slams down over the demigod.
At first Paw thinks he hurt his prize. The pup lets out such a dreadful cry that he makes Paw wonder if he's damaged the demigod in some way. He leans down and lifts the rim just enough to see that the demigod is okay. With a broad smile, he shows his teeth and terrifies the pup. It yelps even louder.
Who should respond but the brave mother. With snarling fangs and wild, worried eyes that say, Mine, the red mother fox explodes out of her den.
"Stay back, Mother!" the Indian tracker shouts.
She circles around him with such a dreadful look of concern he can't help but mock her.
"Ha! Ha! You, the cleverest animal of the woods, have been beaten at your own sly game. I see you putting together some plan to hurt me and take back your treasure. It won't work. He's mine!"
The mother fox scolds him with harsh chirps and reveals fangs as she steps forward and then leaps back.
"Do not worry, Mother. I am not here for them. Just this one!" Paw says while he slips twigs beneath the basket and makes a hasty lid.
Mother Fox doesn't wait to see what happens next. She snatches whatever babies she can and hides them in the cave.
Paw is so impressed with her speed and determination, he wonders if it isn't wrong to separate a child from its mother this way. Before he can finish this thought, his legs burn and rejuvenate with a newfound energy.
"There it is, Mother Fox. You keep your other little babies but I keep your greatest treasure! You also keep your hide, even though I think it would make a fine hat."
He sticks his tongue out at her and runs away.
Ten springs pass. Paw is now thirty-seven and Kiowa is half his height. A full-grown silver fox follows him and seems like an extension of his soul.
"You look like your father," Paw says, ruffling the boy's hair with one hand while he holds a platter of paint in the other.
"Sadly, you must go through the lessons of the rabbit before you become…"
"Become what, Uncle?" Kiowa looks up with large, round nut-brown eyes.
"Well, many moons will tell. You will have a vision, and in that vision you will see an animal. That will be your spirit and the source of your magic. Until then you are a rabbit."
"I don't like being a rabbit, Uncle. They are stupid and weak. I want to be a fox like my demigod, Moon Beam."
"Rabbits have a good life. You paint your face. You dance all day. You play games. You eat plenty. Seems like a grand old time to me."
"Yeah, I guess so. How many moons till I turn into my spirit animal?"
"Well, let's see. If it were one moon, I would say one moon from now. If it were two…"
"You would say two!"
Paw holds up all ten fingers. He flashes them repeatedly. "Many moons is this many."
"Ah-hoe, Uncle. That is a long time to be a rabbit."
Circling all around them, the silver fox inspects everything Paw does with the greatest curiosity. His emerald eyes reveal an endless silent inquiry.
Paw smiles and lifts his open hand. "Press your hand against mine."
Kiowa grins and bares his bright white teeth.
"See there, your hands are almost as big as mine. Now let me see your foot."
Kiowa hops and then sticks a foot out.
Paw swings around him and puts his foot next to his. "Ah, just as I suspected. In a few winters, your foot will be as long as mine."
"So?!" Kiowa says, sticking his tongue out and hopping away.
"So we haven't much time to teach you all that must be learned."
"Well, if I am a rabbit"—the boy hops up and down in buckskin pants and wiggles his hips—"then I hear, I smell, I shake my tail, and I hop away."
Paw laughs at his cute nephew. "All these things are true, but you must always remember that we are artists before anything else."
"Even before we are warriors?"
"Yes. Even before we are warriors," Paw says, dipping his thumbs in white paint. He presses them against the bridge of Kiowa's nose and streaks them down to the corners of his mouth.
"Why do we paint?" Kiowa asks in a soft voice.
"We paint our sacred symbols on our faces," Paw says, making paw prints on his face. "We paint our horses and our tepees so that our magic will protect us."
"Do I have magic?"
Paw nods. He waves his hands over the earth and says, "Everything has magic."
"If I have magic, can I use it against you?"
Paw rests his hands on his hips and sighs. "First I will teach you how to start fires with flint, carve arrow shafts with your knife, make arrowheads out of the white man's metals, sew moccasins, make face paint, ride horses, and wrestle. But none of these things will be as important as the art you make."
"I am eager to learn magic, Uncle!" Kiowa says with a big bright smile.
Paw smiles. "We will get there, but first"—he dips his thumb in red paint and traces it up Kiowa's right arm—"I will teach you of your father, Lone Wolf, and the great love he had for all of us…" He reaches the nook of Kiowa's arm. "The love he had for your mother…" He reaches Kiowa's armpit, then slides the red trail across his shoulder and makes a giant circle on the boy's heart. "And the love he has for you."
"I want to hear all the stories."
"One night at a time I will teach you."
One such night, Paw brings Lone Wolf's war bonnet and recounts with admiration the battles he won. He tells in great detail all of the things he saw. Kiowa laughs and sometimes cries. Paw's words swirl around Kiowa's ear canals and bring Lone Wolf's spirit to life in his mind.
"And that is how Fire Boy and Water Boy created all the stars." He looks at his nephew who seems lost. "Why do you get lost in the starry sky?" Paw asks at the end of his story.
"Me and Moon Beam wonder."
"I am more worried about you listening to these lessons I am trying to teach you, but to satisfy my curiosity, what is it you wonder?"
"I cannot say, because I do not know the words."
What Paw couldn't know, through the long campfire nights, was how close Kiowa feels to his father when he looks up at the starry sky. Though the boy isn't sure why, he howls. Paw finds the boy's high-pitched call so inviting that he joins in. As the two carry on, Moon Beam tilts his head this way and that, trying to make sense of all that his beautiful eyes see.
Over many moon-filled nights, the two got very good at the practice of howling. On more than one occasion they would trigger a roaming wolf pack, sending Moon Beam off to the tepee, where he would linger in the open doorway and tremble. This became a game for them, and it was always their intent to trick Moon Beam.
When the time has come for Kiowa to build his first bow, Paw leads him to the oak tree where he and Lone Wolf had found sturdy branches to build their first bows.
"We start with a branch that speaks to you, and then we use this." He holds out a rusty knife with a sharp blade. "With one skillful scrape after another, we will bring the spirit out and unite it with your body."
"How long will it take?"
"It does not matter how many moons. All that matters is that we find the right branch and make the right bow."
Within weeks, Paw has helped Kiowa carve his first bow. He tears a strip of deer leather from his pants and makes a sturdy grip.
"You have done well. Now we will use the sinew and tendon of the buffalo to make a string."
"When will I kill my first buffalo?"
"After you kill your first elk."
"When will I kill my first elk?"
"After you kill many bucks."
"And when will I do that, Uncle?"
"After you have killed many antelope."
Kiowa counts all the layers of the hunt and feels overwhelmed.
"But first you must kill rabbits. I bless you that when you aim with this bow, you aim with your father's hands."
Paw takes his knife and carves out finger grooves much too big for the boy's fingers.
"Now you have a hole in your pants, Uncle, and they are very worn."
"The pants I wear are your father's."
"How long will you wear my father's pants?"
"Onendah says his legs carry me. So I will wear them until I don't need his legs."
Kiowa looks from Paw's pants to his little dusty britches. "Do his legs carry me?"
Paw smiles and nods.
"But I don't have his pants. How can I be carried by his legs without his pants?"
Paw chuckles, then runs his fingers through Kiowa's long hair.
"Your legs are his legs. Now go hunt rabbits and squirrels. When you have killed enough to make a quiver for your arrows, we will make stronger arrows and hunt deer," Paw says, stringing the bow. He hands Kiowa the weapon.
"I will make you and Father proud!" Kiowa says, beaming. He wipes his nose, smearing his paint so that it now looks like he has a white mustache.
Paw licks his finger and wipes it off so that the other boys won't make a new name for him.
"Remember to aim where they are going to be, not where they are," Paw counsels.
Kiowa nods with great enthusiasm. He sprints off to the same forests his father hunted in, stalking his prey in a very patient manner. He imagines how his father may have learned to hunt and pretends to be him.
On his own, the noises of the forest intimidate him, but they also make him very curious. To calm himself, he identifies what he hears.
Raven's caw. Sparrow's chirp. Chipmunk's bark. Squirrel's squeak. I'm only in danger when everything is silent.
He sees a squirrel climb a tree so fast that by the time he takes aim, it's spun all the way around the tree three times and disappears in an explosion of pine needles. His eyebrows press together in disappointment, forcing a dissatisfied frown.
"That went differently in my mind." He humphs.
Moon Beam stares at him and seems ready to pounce at the right word.
"No, Moon Beam. You wouldn't understand. This is something I must do on my own."
With a deep breath, Kiowa breathes in the crisp pine air, and then blows all his discouragement out at once. I am tired and that is why I am slow, he realizes, then leaves the forest and decides to scour the open grass for rabbits.
Out in a grassy field, near the village, Kiowa spots a tall cottontail. He nocks an arrow and watches its gray body move slowly at first, but then the rabbit gets excited and darts around before stopping. It seems to study him as much he studies it.
"You are cute and soft and I do not want to harm you, but I am hungry and I need to hunt deer, so you must die!"
A kind note for you, the reader: Have you ever had to do something terribly hard? Something you didn't want to do? What drove you to do it? Leave a comment in the review. I'm incredibly curious. Also, I'm sure you know by now that it is Christmas. You might need to buy a Christmas present for someone you love. If that's so, bounce over to Amazon. Search for "Harvest Moon," By Zachary Lovelady. And feel free to check us out on instagram: harvestmoonofficial