Free Heart of the Wilderness by Janette Oke

turned them both around and was moving down the trail away from the beaver—away from the stream—away from the ugly sight.
    “We’ve got to help it, Nonie,” Kendra said again, trying to pull back from the hand that pulled her along.
    They had gone some distance before Nonie stopped her wailing and lifting her hands to the sky. The dark eyes were still shadowed, but the woman now hurried Kendra along the trail, and nothing more was said about the trap.
    But the fearful event did not leave Kendra’s thinking. All day as she played with Oscar or watched Nonie move about the cabin, she kept reflecting on the scene and wondering why Nonie had done nothing to help the entrapped beaver.
    When Papa Mac came home, Kendra would be waiting on the doorstep. Nonie talked when Nonie chose to talk. Kendra had the feeling that Nonie would not be discussing with her the incident that had spoiled their day.
    But Papa Mac talked. Kendra felt that she could ask him anything. Tell him anything—anything, that is, except the stories that Nonie shared with her about Mother Earth and the Brothers of the forest. Already Kendra had caught the displeasure of her grandfather regarding Nonie’s strange tales.
    So Kendra waited patiently for her grandfather while Nonie stirred about the cabin behind her. Oscar lay at her feet, chewing on a piece of well-worn bone. Kendra wondered absently why he continued to chew. All the meat had been removed long ago.
    As attentive as Kendra was, it was Oscar who alerted her to the coming of the team. He lifted his head and sniffed at the air, a whine starting somewhere deep inside him and escaping his dark, curled lips.
    “They’re coming,” said Kendra to the dog as though she had been the first to know.
    She reached her hand out to Oscar to hold him to his spot. She didn’t want the dog to be the first one to greet her grandfather and the approaching team.
    In spite of her hand, Oscar rose to his feet, his whine deepening, his ears perked forward.
    Soon Kendra could hear the soft yapping of the dogs, the rumbling of the wheels as they stumbled over the rocks of the trail.
    She waited. She knew that it wouldn’t be long until the team would come into view at the far end of the clearing.
    Just as she had expected, the dogs entered the clearing first, her grandfather close at the rear of the sleigh-wagon. She could see the pile of darkness that meant her grandfather had had another good day at the traplines. She was pleased because she knew he would be pleased. He had told her that the final catches of the spring were important. That soon the trapping season would be over for another year.
    Normally Kendra ran to greet him, her voice calling out words of excited welcome, her moccasined feet beating a rhythm on the soft ground as she hurried to him to be scooped up into his arms and carried back to the cabin on broad shoulders.
    But tonight she sat where she was, her fingers tangled in Oscar’s heavy coat, willing him to wait with her.
    The sled dogs raced directly to where her grandfather always parked the sleigh.
    “Well,” he called across to her, “are you too weary to meet me tonight? Has Nonie been dragging you through the woods all day?”
    Kendra shook her head quietly. She did not stir from her seat on the step.
    With an order to his dog team to lie down on the spot, he moved toward her, sensing that something was wrong.
    He lowered his big frame down on the step beside her, pushing back Oscar who wished to get a share of the attention. His arm slipped around the slight body and drew her close.
    “You look sad,” he said after holding her for a moment. “Did something happen today?”
    Kendra nodded her head, her eyes filled with tears.
    “Did you and Nonie have a spat?” he continued.
    Kendra did not know what a spat was. She had no one to spat with. She looked up at him, her eyes questioning his words.
    “Did you and Nonie have a fight?” he asked her again.
    Kendra knew what a fight