CHAPTER 15
Before Makes Trouble can get away, his mother comes around the corner and catches the swift boy by the arm. She hits him with a switch several times.
"If you are the wind, then why can I catch you by your lazy arm? I am your creator. If you think you are of the wind, who do you think gave you that gift?" Glances Then Glares scolds him, hitting him between sentences.
The sisters all join in, cursing the naughty boy for abandoning them and making them double their work.
Makes Trouble winces from the force of the attack. He proudly fights back tears.
Kida swings her switch the hardest. The tip strikes bare skin and instantly leaves pink welts on her brother's chest. The boy can't help but howl in agony.
"How dare you take advantage of our kindness? You know it is in our nature to be so. You are a cruel, wretched boy to take advantage of our sweet nature and use it selfishly for idleness! Especially when you come home with nothing to show for your laziness!"
Her scolding words leave welts on his heart and bring tears of shame to his eyes.
"Forgive me, sisters!"
They ignore him and extract their ounce of justice.
You certainly are of the wind, Makes Trouble. Your cries sound like wailing willows, Kiowa thinks.
Not wanting to share in Makes Trouble's punishment, Kiowa slings his fish over his shoulder and calls for Moon Beam. For one reason or another, the silver fox does not budge. He looks down and looks up. Over and over he does this until he has Kiowa's attention.
"What is it?" Kiowa asks.
The demigod puts its foot on something as if to say, I am playing a game. Can you guess what is beneath my paw?
Kiowa walks over and sweeps the fox's paw out of the way and finds the most beautiful crystal.
"Is this a gift, Moon Beam?"
The fox rubs itself along his legs as a cat might.
"Is it magic?"
The fox seems to nod.
When Kiowa gets to his tepee, he can still hear Makes Trouble's cries. Kiowa is relieved that not a single switch made contact with his skin. He concludes that these events are a sign. He shows his mother and uncle the source of his protective magic, to which his mother tells him, "If it is true magic, then you must paint it with our sacred symbols and put it in a protective pouch, which Onendah will bless at the next sun dance."
Kiowa obeys her. He paints yellow zigzag lines and black circles on the stone. Then he puts it in a leather pouch he made and ties it to his belt.
"What else does my magic do for me, Moon Beam?"
The silver fox yawns, curls up in a ball, and falls fast asleep.
As time passes, Kiowa's skill increases with his bow. He spends many hours with Paw, learning how to inhale, hold his breath, aim at his target, then release when his muscles are relaxed. His trusty friend Moon Beam has learned to retrieve meat for him. More and more, the tribe believes in the truth of the fine animal's divinity. The fox grows to full stature but never ages one day beyond adulthood.
Before long Kiowa hits whatever he aims at: rabbits and other ground animals, birds, and reptiles. He gains confidence with each kill and even works up the nerve to hunt squirrels. After a winter, a spring, and almost an entire summer, he learns how to track their movements. Soon his uncle's words make sense. He can almost predict where his target is going to be. Even if he isn't successful, he learns something new each time. With each hunt he grows more confident. He eats more meat. And wears more skins.
Over time, Paw watches the boy turn into a young man, evidenced by the bulge in his throat, the crackle in his voice, and the traces of budding muscles. When the fall comes, it is time to take Kiowa on his first deer hunt.
"You will have to learn how to shoot while you ride," Paw informs his nephew.
The thought of riding and aiming seems impossible. Though he has seen it done dozens of times, he hasn't mastered it.
For the last year, he's gone with the warriors on their great buffalo hunts. Of course he wasn't allowed to do anything except carry arrows and ride a black mustang his uncle gave him, but it made him feel closer to being what he was destined to become.
Paw never speaks to Kiowa authoritatively and he has never struck him with his hand. He always presented options and tried to teach him to see advantages and disadvantages before forming a plan.
"Deer graze in the morning. We must either sleep in the cold grass and shiver all night or sleep in the comfort of our tepees and make our way down the pasture before dawn. Which do you prefer?" Paw asks.
Kiowa pauses thoughtfully. "Which would you prefer?"
Paw flicks him on the forehead. Kiowa retracts from the impact and rubs his forehead with his open palm.
"Aw, why did you do that?"
"You must think for yourself. Make your own plan and do not be influenced by others. And if you can, keep your plan to yourself before sharing it with anyone, lest they steal it from you."
Kiowa rubs the sore spot again. "Which will guarantee a kill?"
"Neither."
Growing frustrated, he draws a deep breath and grumbles, "Which path will offer the advantage?"
"Which do you think?"
"I think if we sleep out here beneath the stars, I will want to go home until the sun rises. If I stay here, I will be here when the deer graze and I will make no noise. If they show up at all, I will be prepared for them."
"And if you seek comfort?"
"Then I will make a great deal of noise when I come down in the morning, and if any deer are in this field, they will probably sprint off as the squirrels do when they hear me move in the forest."
"So, which path is best?" Paw asks, plucking the string of Kiowa's bow to test its tautness.
"I will freeze in the grass. Struggle with my desire to rest in my warm bed, and hope the deer appear in the morning."
Paw takes Kiowa's bow and carves a snake symbol in it. "And if they don't?"
Kiowa feels a frisson of frustration surge from the pit of his stomach. He clenches his fists and stomps as the feeling spreads all the way up his chest. Emotion explodes into a temper. "Hmph. You hate everything I say."
"I do not hate everything you say, just most of it."
"Why do you taunt me?" the frustrated boy asks, pressing his lips to a frown and squeezing his brows together until they practically touch. He tilts his head and glares at Paw so intently that his emotion cannot be mistaken.
"You think I taunt you? Look around you, son of Lone Wolf. I am the only man who is taking the time to teach you how to hunt. Did someone else show you how to carve a bow? Now, if you remain like this, I'm going to paint your sour face on your shield, and all the boys will know the bitterness that lurks inside your heart."
The thought of such embarrassment disseminates Kiowa's swelling temper almost immediately.
"Please don't do that, Uncle. They would nickname me Frowns a Lot."
Paw laughs at Kiowa's response.
"It pleases me that you can be bartered with. Can you see past your feelings yet?"
Kiowa thinks about Paw's question and knows that no answer he offers will stop him from asking another question. He also knows if he asks his uncle what he would do, he will feel another flick of his finger. The only option he has now is to put serious thought into an answer that will liberate him from his folly. Just then a simple answer surfaces in his mind.
"If the deer don't show up tomorrow, I will sleep in the grass until they make the mistake of grazing within range of my arrows."
Paw smiles at the answer he has been waiting for. He puts his hand on the young man's shoulder and says, "Boys make words. Men make actions. This is why warriors seldom speak and always listen. Words cannot show our actions. We must be slow to use our words and quick to show our actions. When you want to move, look at this snake I carved on your bow. Remember how they sit still and wait undetected until it is too late."
Kiowa rubs his finger over the snake and listens as his uncle continues. "Actions require plans. Our plans won't always be solid like stones. The results of our actions will be. In fact, your actions will build a name for you. That name will either be a blessing or a curse. You will wear it on your shield all of the days of your life, and the tribe will never let you live beyond its shadow."
Paw leans down and lifts Lone Wolf's shield up. He displays the image on its rough hide.
"Your father's nickname was Lone Wolf because he would charge into battle on his own. You have heard my stories of him. He had no fear because he always had a plan!"
Paw hands Kiowa the shield. The boy takes it and sits down. He traces the sprinting wolf image with his fingers.
Moon Beam sits beside him and looks at the shield with a quirky smile.
"Like you, I had stones over my eyes that blinded me with fear of harm for your father. My heart would sink every time he would rush into battle, but I soon realized his plan was better than that of whomever he fought, and that is why he won!"
"So I must have a plan?"
"If you want to win and earn a name that will make your mother proud, you must not only have a plan, but you must have the best plan."
"How will I know if my plan is the best?"
"That is easy, Nephew. You will either be dead or alive. I must go now and leave you to your plan. This has been too many words for me. You must be honest with me and tell me which path you have taken and why."
"You aren't going to stay out here with me?"
"I won't always be with you, Kiowa. You are a young man now. You must learn to stand on your own two feet. I have killed many deer. My name is Paw because I learned to track animals by their paw prints. This is why the prints of many animals are on my shield. What image will be painted on your shield?""
"Who will keep me company?"
"Moon Beam. Who else? It is getting cold. Show me who you really are."
Notes... notes... notes... Do you act without a plan? Are you hasty in your approach? Good thing you aren't an indian. You'd be dead. Plan. Attack. Win or lose. If lose and you are still alive, make a new plan. Here's a plan, Christmas is right around the corner. This book is up on Amazon, go search, "Harvest Moon," by Zachary Lovelady. Get it in paperback/kindle. Or check us out on insta: Harvestmoonofficial