Free Totem by Jennifer Maruno Page B

furs, listening to the soft snore of the man at his side, he felt happier than he had ever been.
    During the first few weeks of life in the hut, Jonny’s arms and legs ached from gathering wood and hunting. He learned to wipe his hands on a piece of animal skin to rid them of his human scent before setting a trap. He learned to jiggle a line of fibre up and down a hole in the ice along the shore just the right way to catch a fish. The soft skin on his hands often bled, but he didn’t care.
    Silver Cloud returned each evening with food from the forest. Once he watched her climb a tree, put her hand in a hole, and withdraw a handful of acorns. Later she shelled them, ground them, and mixed them with dried root to make a cake.
    â€œWhen will you begin your new pole?” Jonny asked one day.
    â€œWhen it is time,” Kalaku responded.
    Jonny’s hands grew tough, his arm muscles strong, and his legs sturdy. One day Kalaku beckoned him outside from the doorway. They tramped through the forest to a huge cedar next to a stream. Kalaku put his hand on the bark and his eyes sparkled. Jonny thought of the chief’s story as he stepped into the melting world of blue sky. Jonny lifted his hatchet, ready to chop.
    â€œThe spirits must not be angry with us for killing this tree,” Kalaku told Jonny as he put his hand across Jonny’s chest. “Before we cut we must first thank them and let them move on.”
    After praising and thanking the tree spirits, Kalaku made a cut in the bark near the bottom. They took turns chopping the trunk of the massive red cedar to create a wide hinge. The tree seemed to pause for a moment before it toppled and cart-wheeled down the mountain.
    Jonny raced after it, yelling with excitement.
    Together they removed the top branches and gave the huge log a push. It skidded to the edge of the stream and shot across to the other side.
    They laughed out loud as they pushed it backwards into the icy stream. The colossal tree trunk floated downstream to their camp, as they raced along the bank, tracking its way.
    Kalaku used his wedge and stone hammer to split the bark. Jonny copied, cutting away the outer sapwood. He marveled at the straightness of the cedar’s grain.
    For days, they smoothed and scraped until only the heartwood remained. Soft cedar shavings carpeted the earth. Each morning began with Kalaku running his hand along the surface making sure it was free of knots.
    â€œWhat part will I get to carve?” Jonny asked with enthusiasm.
    Kalaku took a tree limb from a large pile of kindling. He looked at it from top to bottom then handed it to Jonny. “First,” he said, “you carve a paddle.”
    Jonny worked at hiding his disappointment, remembering what Kalaku had said about bad thoughts. He squinted at the branch that was thicker than his arm, trying to figure out how to make it into the shape of a paddle. He turned it around and around. He walked to the paddles leaning against the hut and compared the two. He picked up his knife and pressed it into the bark. Jonny pried it off in long narrow strips, humming as he worked.
    Days later, using charcoal from the fire, Jonny began to trace the shape of a paddle.
    Kalaku took the coal from his hand and marked a line down the middle of the rough-hewn oar. “An out-of-balance paddle will dance in your hands,” he said.
    Jonny nodded and adjusted his pattern to Kalaku’s line.
    Kalaku, having finished carving his miniature pole, was now ready to transfer his design to the log. He blocked the figures with charcoal, singing the song of each spirit as he worked.
    Across from them Silver Cloud pounded cedar bark strips making them soft enough to weave. She looked up and smiled.
    Jonny finished his pattern. He placed his paddle on the ground and stood up to stretch.
    Kalaku shook his head. He picked up the wooden shape and made a small hole at the top of the handle. Threading it with sinew, he hung it