Free Grey Eyes by Frank Christopher Busch Page B

recoiled. The grey bear cub rolled around, continuing to roar and paw, standing on its hind legs. It glowed with a grey light and a magical energy and the Red-Eyed warrior began to shrink, screaming and cursing. When the warrior had diminished and faded, the grey bear cub stood triumphant in the centre of the lodge, roaring and pawing the air. The participants cheered.
    â€œLittle Grey Bear Boy of the Bear clan!” Painted Turtle Man shouted.
    The people cheered, whooping and howling their approval.
    â€œSingers!” said Painted Turtle. “Sing the Creator song!”
    The deep boom of the drum answered him as they took up the song honouring Kitchi Manitou . The participants had accomplished what they came to do and had suffered. Now, it was time to receive gifts and feast.

11 mitātaht piyakosāp

    â€œH as anyone seen my knife?” Blue Elk Man had been searching the Bear lodge for his prized hunting knife all morning. If he found it soon, he might still make it to his preferred campsite before nightfall.
    â€œWhen did you use it last?” asked White Willow Woman, bouncing Little Grey Bear Boy on her lap. A brisk chill this morning would take care of the mosquitos but would send the ducks and geese away as well. The sour red berries had appeared in the moss, providing Mother Earth’s last gift before she began her long slumber. Now would be a good time for her husband to find a moose.
    â€œI have a knife you could take,” offered Brown Shield Man. He was ready to leave, though not as anxious as his brother-in-law.
    â€œDo you need a meal before you go?” asked Singing Doe to her husband.
    â€œ Awas !” said Walking Moon Woman. “You are always feeding him. It’s a wonder we have any food left.” As she spoke, Blue Elk Man’s knife floated out from under the hides carpeting the floor of the lodge where he and his wife slept. The now familiar vibration of the Grey-Eye magic was in the air.
    â€œThat’s daddy’s boy!” said Blue Elk Man as he snatched the floating knife and went over to kiss his son.
    â€œHow did he know what you were thinking?” wondered White Willow Woman aloud.
    â€œIt isn’t just him,” Painted Turtle Man chimed in from his spot to the right of the doorway, where he was grinding herbs. “His gift is meant to be shared. Those around him also have some influence.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?” Singing Doe asked as she bent over to scoop some rice out of the bag. Before Painted Turtle Man could answer, Singing Doe flew through the air into the arms of her husband. The others laughed while Brown Shield Man blushed. It was not the first time this had happened.
    â€œYou’ve gone and spilled the rice with your fooling around!” shouted Walking Moon Woman. “Can’t you keep your thoughts to yourself?”
    â€œ Tapwe !” laughed White Willow Woman.
    â€œDon’t tease,” said Painted Turtle Man. “He loves his wife and that is nothing to be ashamed of.” The others tried to stifle their laughter.
    â€œWell if he loves his wife so much, maybe she should go with him,” said Walking Moon Woman.
    Singing Doe locked eyes with her husband and smiled.
    â€œI’m not sure how much hunting would get done…” White Willow Woman teased as Little Grey Bear Boy pulled at her to loosen her dress straps so he could nurse.
    â€œAnything would be better than having you two spilling my rice and eating all the food,” said Walking Moon Woman. “This lodge was feeling crowded anyway. Go.”
    Singing Doe jumped up, kissed her husband, and began gathering some belongings.
    â€œHave a good hunt,” said Painted Turtle Man as the young couple ran out soon after.
    â€œWhy did you do that?” asked White Willow Woman to her mother.
    â€œWhy not?” she replied. “They need some time alone and our clan still needs a girl.”
    â€œMaybe I