Nyagwai’a:h was a Little Bear, the littlest he knew. All the other Bears were old and wrinkled, and always stunk of the many medicines and aromatics they carried with them. Then again, his older brother, Tgwëhdä:’ë:’nö’kwat, grew red in the face trying to explain to him that he was a Bear too, and so was their eldest brother, having all been born Bears from their Bear mother. This made little sense to Little Bear, for Tgwëhdä:’ë:’nö’kwat was not a Bear at all, but a Red Fox. Their eldest brother, Hoágohsöda’is, was not any kind of animal, but a boy who Runs Into Darkness. But no matter how many times Red Fox tried to explain that these were just names, and did not represent anything literal about them, Little Bear was not convinced. What was the point of names, then, if they didn’t mean anything?
There were lots of things that confused the Little Bear. Oftentimes he would ask about them, only to be told that he was simply a boy of six, and that he would just understand one day when he was older. That didn’t make any sense to him, either, because age was just a number, and everyone’s birthday was different, so why would turning a year older make you magically understand something? Yet it seemed like no one else around him was bothered by these quandaries at all. Everyone seemed to understand everything, to flow along with it all, as if life were a series of unspoken rules known to all except the Little Bear. He just hoped he would know the rules one day, too.
Today, his older brother woke him, shaking him in his bed. Little Bear tried to fight his brother off, kicking at him and pulling his doeskin blanket over his head. It was far too early in the morning to wake up yet, and Little Bear was far too tired. But Red Fox was much stronger than him being a boy of fifteen, and yanked the blanket out of the Little Bear’s grasp.
“What do you want?” Little Bear groaned.
“It’s time to wake up,” his brother told him. “Unless you want to still be sleeping when the war party returns.”
At once, Little Bear shot up, forcing himself awake. He looked around the Longhouse–everyone else was already awake, and most of them were already dressed and ready. Only a few still lingered inside, Little Bear and his brother included.
“Why didn’t you say so?” Little Bear said, trying his best to stifle a yawn as he rubbed his eyes awake. “You should’ve woken me up earlier.”
“Fat chance,” his brother teased. “You were out like a rock.”
“When are they getting here?”
“In about two hours, they say. I let you sleep in so you’d have enough energy for the celebration. Now, I need to get back and help with the preparations, but can you find Running-Into-Darkness for me?”
“Find him? You mean talk to him for you. You already know where he is.”
“Yes, yes, you’re very smart, aren’t you? You know he hasn’t been speaking to me. Just make sure he comes to the celebration. With the way he’s been acting lately he might not even show up.”
“Of course he’ll show up. Father’s returning, and if we’re lucky, he’ll have a new Mother for us.”
“That’s the part I’m worried about. You know how he felt about Mother. He was closer to her than all of us.”
“Then he should be happy if we find a woman worthy of becoming her!”
“You don’t have to convince me, Little Bear. You have to convince him. I don’t think he feels the same way as we do. And try to be sensitive about it. Don’t just blurt things out like this, okay?”
“Fine,” Little Bear shrugged, even though he didn’t really get it. “He’s probably at his usual spot, right?”
“I think so. Thank you, brother, and good luck.”
Red Fox patted his little brother on the head, then left the longhouse. Little Bear yawned, and fought off the urge to sleep for another few minutes. He put on his moccasins and draped a deerskin over his shoulders, since these past two weeks had grown colder. He jogged out of the longhouse and down the hill the village was built on, out past the large wall of wooden stakes that defined the village’s border. He kept a good pace, breathing the cool air in and out to energize his body, until he reached the creek right next to the village. It wasn’t a proper river, but it was wide enough to catch small fish in, and deep enough to bathe and wash clothes. And more importantly, it was where Running-Into-Darkness spent his free time when he didn’t want to be bothered. At least, that’s what he said, but Little Bear didn’t believe it. Little Bear thought this was where he came when he wanted to be bothered, because both of his brothers always knew to find him here.
Just as he thought, his eldest brother was sitting by the river, watching the water trickle by. Next to him sat his “wheelchair”, a strange contraption their father had traded with some Englishmen for. It helped Running-Into-Darkness move around ever since the accident. It happened a few months ago, in the early summer. Their father returned from a fight with the Frenchmen carrying his firstborn son in his arms. For though he was a boy Running Into Darkness, he could no longer run anywhere. A bullet from the enemy hit the bones in his back right above the waist, and the healers said it caused him to lose all control and feeling in his legs.
Ever since then, Running-Into-Darkness had been a shadow of the boy he once was. He was a talented runner and fighter before–the clan mothers said he would rival the greatness of even their father in a few more years, and he was the village’s chief and strongest warrior. Now he couldn’t run, or fight, or do much of anything. If he was a woman, he could still have a purpose, for women did most of everything in the village, and played a great many roles. They cooked the food and tended to the longhouses, they farmed the land and raised the little ones. The women made all the choices about the village’s affairs. But aside from the old healers, men had one role: to fight. To fight, and to bring new family home. Running-Into-Darkness could do neither now.
“Hey, brother,” Little Bear called out to him as he approached. His brother did not turn or greet him, his eyes transfixed on the water. Little Bear sat next to him anyway, following his gaze. Two pickerels swam in tandem just underneath the surface of the water, their silver bodies shimmering in the morning sunlight.
“Brother sent you to talk to me,” Running-Into-Darkness said.
“Of course he did,” Little Bear replied. “He wouldn’t need to if you’d just talk to him.”
The older brother said nothing, resting his chin on his hand as he continued to gaze at the stream. Since the accident, Red Fox had become the oldest brother in a way, and Little Bear was sure that the real oldest brother was jealous because of it. He didn’t even call Red Fox by name anymore, just ‘Brother’.
Little Bear tried to think of something to say. He remembered Red Fox’s warning to speak subtly, but that was never something he had been good at.
“He says Father’s coming home soon,” Little Bear said, smiling. “So we’ll get to have a feast. Won’t that be nice?”
“Will it?” Running-Into-Darkness asked.
“Yes, it will. Don’t you want to eat food?”
“Sure. I just don’t want what’ll come with the food.”
“You mean a new mother."
“Yes, Little Bear. That’s what I mean.”
“I think it’ll be nice to have her back."
Running-Into-Darkness sighed, rubbing his temples.
“You don’t really think it’ll be Mother, do you?” He asked Little Bear. “You know it’ll be a completely different woman.”
“Well, she’ll come here as a different woman, but if the clan mothers accept her, she’ll become Mother, won’t she?”
“In title, and in name.”
“What else is there?”
“Everything, little one. Her personality, her way of speaking. Her essence. Who she is. You can’t just give a random woman Mother’s name and have her transform into her.”
“Well, Brother Red Fox used to be someone else, right?”
“He was,” Running-Into-Darkness sighed. “And still is. You were still too young to remember, but the old Red Fox was completely different. He was quiet, and timid. The other boys called him a coward. And then he got sick and died, and Father brought back a new brother, and gave him our dead brother’s name, like our real one was never here.”
“I like him, though. He’s smart, and brave, like you are. He isn’t a coward.”
“I know. But that’s what I’m saying. The Red Fox I used to know is gone now, replaced by someone who could never replace him.”
“Can I tell you something?”
“What’s that?”
“Promise you won’t be angry with me?”
“Sure.”
“I like you better when you’re sad. All my life I’ve asked you these questions, like why we replace people, and give them the same names, even if they’re different. But you never answered me like this until now. You’re finally honest with me.”
“I’m finally honest with myself, little one. I used to give you strange answers because I believed in them. I thought the people we brought did transform, that the names we granted them helped to do so. I believed that it was my duty to go out there, to bring them back to us, to relieve our sorrow.”
“What do you believe in now?”
“I… I’m not sure. I don’t really know anymore.”
Running-Into-Darkness’ eyes glazed over at the water, dark clouds forming inside his mind. Little Bear tried to figure out what he was thinking, but he was no good at it, not like Red Fox was. Still, he did know some things about his oldest brother, things he never felt like he could talk about. So he ignored Red Fox’s warning–to Little Bear, now that his oldest brother finally spoke in honesty and truth, he wanted to hear as much of it as he could.
“I know you wish you were out there with Father,” Little Bear said. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah,” Running-Into-Darkness said. “Me too.”
“You have to tell me what you’re thinking,” Little Bear said. “It’s the rule.”
His older brother paused for a moment.
“Promise you won’t tell Brother,” he said.
“I promise,” Little Bear replied.
“Do you think Father will replace me, too?” Running-Into Darkness asked, his voice breaking at the thought. “Now that I’m like this?”
“Don’t be silly. You’re still alive. Why would he replace you?”
“I’m barely alive. I can’t fight, I can’t hunt. I can’t do anything that I’m meant to, that a man is meant to. All I can do is sit here and wait to die. Father knows that, too. He’s already forgotten about me.”
Little Bear tried to protest, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. In truth, their Father barely spoke to Running-Into-Darkness anymore, and mostly treated him like he wasn’t there. Red Fox was the new eldest brother now, at least the way Father treated things.
“It’s not Brother’s fault Father spends all his time with him now,” Little Bear said. “He tries to get him to talk to you, too. I’ve heard him.”
“I know.” Running-Into-Darkness’ words came out shaky, trembling. “I know it all. I know he loves me. I know he feels so terrible about what happened, and that he feels guilty for taking up the mantle since I can’t do it anymore. And he knows I’m angry at him for it, and he does it anyway, because it’s his duty. But what am I supposed to do? Just forgive him? Just tell him it’s alright that he’s replacing me? I was going to lead this family, to lead the whole village once Father grew too old to be chief. Am I supposed to just be happy to be thrown aside?”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Tears began to fall from his eldest brother’s eyes, and Little Bear wiped them away, hugging his brother tight.
“I’m sorry,” Little Bear told him. “I wish I knew all the answers. But I don’t. Brother doesn’t either. But you have to forgive him. You have to tell him how you feel. Otherwise you’ll just be sad forever, and we’ll never get to laugh together like we used to. Don’t you miss that?”
“I do,” Running-Into-Darkness sighed. “I miss a lot of things, little one. But that doesn’t mean I’ll get them back.”
“Doesn’t mean you won’t get them back, either. But things don’t change unless you let them. Brother wants to be friends with you again, and I’m tired of everyone acting like we aren’t a family anymore. Now are you coming to the celebration or not?”
“Fine. Help me get up the hill, will you?”
Little Bear smiled, and nodded. This was why he knew that when his oldest brother came out to the creek, what he really wanted was not to be left alone, but for someone to come save him. Their village was built on top of a hill, and though getting to the stream was no problem, the hill was too steep for the wheelchair to roll back up. Running-Into-Darkness always needed help coming back uphill, and so coming to the stream was his way of asking for help, something he had always hated doing, as long as Little Bear could remember.
Little Bear helped push his older brother back up the hill. Despite the fact that he was so young, he was strong enough to push his heavy brother. In fact, Running-Into-Darkness barely needed help at all nowadays. Ever since the accident, he had been coming to the stream almost every day, and every day he tried to wheel himself back up by himself. It was a point of pride for him, a way to show his freedom. His arms had grown as thick as tree trunks in the past few weeks, and all Little Bear needed to do this time was catch his brother the one or two times the chair started rolling backwards.
Once they made it back to the village, Running-into-Darkness wheeled himself towards the huge fire pit in the center of town, seeing if there was something he could help with. Little Bear wandered around until he found his brother, who was busy painting his face red and blue for the celebration.
“I talked to him for you,” Little Bear said.
“Thank you, little brother,” Red Fox said, smiling. “How’d it go?”
“He’s still sad.”
“I know. I think he’ll be sad for a while. Is he coming?”
“Yes.”
“That’s good, at least. A feast will lift his spirits.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Do you remember who you were before you became our brother?”
Red Fox stopped putting his war paint on.
“You’ve never asked me this before,” he said, more serious than Little Bear had ever seen him.
“I know.”
Red Fox sighed.
“Maybe I do, and maybe I don’t. Does it matter, Little Bear? Whoever I was before, I’m not any longer. I’ve been Red Fox for five years, and I’ll continue to be him until I die. Does that bother you?”
Little Bear shook his head.
“It makes me happy. I like you as a brother.”
Red Fox made a face.
“Gross,” he said, sticking his tongue out. “I rather despise you as a brother.”
“Take that back!”
“Make me.”
Little Bear lunged at his brother’s neck, and the two were off in a quarrel. Well, it could hardly be called a real quarrel–Little Bear couldn’t even reach his brother’s vital spots, the Red Fox dancing mockingly out of his reach.
Suddenly, the sound of distant whoops and shrieks tore through the air, and the boys stopped fighting. They recognized the noise as the defiant war call of their village, which meant the war band was returning. Red Fox scrambled to finish his face paint as Little Bear ran to the village entrance. Running-Into-Darkness was waiting with the women, and Little Bear ran to his side as the warriors came up the hill. Leading them in the front was their father, Ho’wájë’gweodö:’, named for the Rising Smoke. Pride swelled in Little Bear’s chest when he saw him, for what a proud thing it was to be the son of the Bear Clan’s chief, and the village’s strongest warrior.
The Smoke Rises saw two of his sons waiting for him, and smiled at them as he continued his war chant, making his way into town. Behind the warriors walked a line of captives from other tribes, their wrists bound in front of them. There were a few women among them, but Little Bear wasn’t sure who was meant to be their new mother. The women and children of the village cheered their warriors as their returned, and Red Fox joined the old men in playing a song of celebration on the drums. It was the same song that was played before the War Party departed to wish them good luck, and so it was they played it once they returned, to celebrate a triumphant victory. Normally, Red Fox would be returning with the war band, but his eyes had grown sickly pink right before the expedition, and he was deemed too sick to come. Thus he was happy enough to celebrate their return, banging on his drum merrily.
The warriors led their quarry into the enormous square in the center of the village, where a huge bonfire burned. The clan mothers were all waiting there, to pass judgment the newcomers as they arrived, to deem whether they were worthy of joining their village and their people.
“We mourn great losses today,” the Bear Mother called out in half-chant, half-song. She was Little Bear’s grandmother, and the head of the Bear clan, the largest and most powerful of the four clans in the village. Thus, she was the most powerful woman in the village, and in many ways more powerful than even the chief. She was the one who let The Smoke Rises marry into the Bear Clan through her daughter, after all, and the one who appointed him chief. If she felt that The Smoke Rises was no longer doing his duty as chief, she could remove his title as well. The other clans in the village, Turtle, Wolf, and Heron, were smaller in presence and power, and currently bore no chiefs, leaving The Smoke Rises to stand above them all with great pride.
“We mourn great losses today,” the Bear Mother continued. “We weep for the loss of Ösa:dë:s, beloved mother and daughter. We weep for the loss of Wá:gë:ne’, beloved father and brother. We weep for the loss of De:he:wä:mis, beloved daughter and sister. We weep…”
She continued this way, listing the ten members of the village who had died recently, and who had not been replaced yet. After each name was called, the family of the dead would cry out and weep in loud mourning, and the rest of the village would echo their cries as a call-and-response, to show how the whole village mourned for their loss. At the mention of Ösa:dë:s, Little Bear moaned like he should. He looked over at his eldest brother to see tears forming in his eyes, but he did not mourn their mother loudly like he was supposed to. Little Bear started to feel angry, but he calmed himself. Truthfully, he was just glad Running-Into-Darkness was here at all.
The war party brought the captives around the fire, stripping their clothes off them and tying them to wooden poles. One by one, the Mothers of each of the four clans in the village walked by each captive, looking over them. The Smoke Rises stood by one of them, a woman around his age. That must be the one he wants for our new mother, the Little Bear thought to himself. All he could tell is that she was beautiful, and that she looked very different from his old mother. He hoped she was just as kind.
After their initial inspection, the clan mothers sat, and the warriors began taking flaming sticks from the bonfire. They began to press the fiery ends of the sticks into the captives, all over their bodies. Many of the captives screamed as their flesh seared from the heat, but the smart ones new to keep quiet best they could. All of this was part of a test, for any man woman or child who was not strong enough to survive these flames was not worthy of joining the Haudenosaunee.
The Smoke Rises burned their new mother himself, and she was wise enough to muffle her screams by biting her lip. That was a good sign, and bode well for her, for the Clan mothers had to approve any new member. If their father had found a woman good enough to make his new wife, he would want to make sure Bear Mother approved of her, as he would need her consent to replace his old one. A few of the captives screamed too loudly, some of them falling to their knees from the pain, and they were cut loose from the poles and carried away, failures that were not worthy of being adopted.
After each of the captives were burned thoroughly, the warriors sat around the fire, handed cobs of corn by the women to eat while the next test began. The captives were untied, and made to run from one end of the square to the other while everyone else in the village watched. This running would last for hours until supper-time in the evening, and was the test most people failed. The point was not speed, but endurance–as long one did not tire and collapse, they would pass. Of course, the real trial was more complicated than that, as all the boys too young to join the war party grabbed sticks to beat the runners with.
This was Little Bear’s favorite part of the Mourning War celebration, since it was the one he got to participate in. He had grabbed his stick by the stream earlier after his conversation with his brother, and it was the perfect stick for whipping people with–not thick or meant to bludgeon, but thin like a switch that would scrape and leave cuts in the skin. The pain was the point, not injury–the goal being to inflict pain rather than beat them until they couldn’t run anymore. For pain was something that could be ignored, and pushed through–the runners who were able to do so were strong-willed, and thus worthy of joining their ranks. The pain also served as a reminder: the captives were not Haudenosaunee yet. They were members of some inferior tribe, losers who had been beaten in fair combat by the superior Onödowá’ga, Keepers of the Western Door. But if they bore this pain, knew it well, and overcame it, they would be welcomed as brothers and sisters.
Little Bear ran through the tumultuous chaos with all the other little boys, smacking peoples’ thighs and calves with his switch as they passed. He tried to follow his new mother through the crowd, to protect her if he could from some of the boys who just wanted to hit them as hard as they could. Little Bear was smarter than that, because his parents and brothers had taught him well on the reasons behind these important rituals.
He caught up to her, flicking his stick across her waist as he pushed another boy away from her with his free hand. She was showing signs of promise so far–her resolve held firm even as her fingers and feet were burned, and she ran at a steady pace that wouldn’t tire her out anytime soon. That was enough for Little Bear to want her for a mother, and besides, Father had chosen her, and he trusted his judgment. So Little Bear resolved to run with her for the rest of this trial, and to protect her, even as he whipped her himself. He would not have her forsake the challenge entirely, of course, because that would be cheating, and he would not accept a cheater for a mother.
The festival continued this way until twilight, when the captives were finally allowed to rest. The ones who fell were dragged away during the test like the other failures, to be killed and cooked. If they were not strong enough to join the village themselves, they would be eaten by the village’s members to be strengthened by their essence, like the meat of any animal. The women brought out large dishes of food for the supper: corn, squash, beans, venison, and of course the captives who didn’t make it this far.
Before supper was served, though, the final judgment had to be made. The four Clan Mothers approached each of the ones who had made it to the end. There were only seven, not enough to replace the ten that had died, which meant the war party would have to leave again to find more replacements. The Clan Mothers knelt in front of each of the survivors, saying the same thing in unison:
“You have passed our trials for you,” they said. “You are being offered a place in our village, to become part of our beloved families. You will renounce the name you have carried until now, and you will forget the memory of who you were before, as these are things you will no longer need. Do you understand?”
Each of the seven that remained said yes. So each of the survivors, one by one, were admitted successfully, each of them given a new name. Their new mother was given the same name as their old one: Ösa:dë:s, a beautiful and gentle name that meant “She Loves You.”
Once they were given their names, food was served to all, including them, for they were captives no longer, but family. Little Bear smiled–after mourning the loss of their mother for this past year, he and his brothers would finally welcome a new one. Their father had brought two back before, but they were not strong enough. The first one died on the way to the village, so weak that she could not even survive the journey. The second one screamed bloody murder the second the flame was pressed to her back, falling to her knees and accepting defeat. Little Bear was glad to wait for the right one, one strong enough to be the wife of the Bear chief, and the mother of the three boys. He sat by Running-Into-Darkness as Red Fox trotted up to them.
“Nyawëh, brothers,” Red Fox said, bringing the two of them wooden bowls of hot succotash.
“Nyawëh, brother,” Little Bear replied, taking one of the bowls. “Sgënö dihnä:h?”
“Hë:ëh, I am exhausted from beating my drum and dancing all day. You should be too, little one. I saw how you were running after our new mother, and you kept it up the whole time. How are you not tired?”
“I am. But I’m too happy to think about how tired I am. I think she’ll make a good mother.”
“I sure hope so. Father seems to like her, at least.”
Red Fox extended the second bowl to Running-Into-Darkness.
“What about you, Hoágohsöda’is? Sgënö dihnä:h?”
To Little Bear’s surprise, Runs-Into-Darkness did not ignore him, but turned and smiled at him, taking the bowl of succotash from his hands.
“A:yë:’,” he said. “nä:h ha’degayei:’. But I will be better, I think, once this party comes to an end. The victory drums tend to sound hollow when you can’t dance to their rhythm.”
“And who says you cannot dance? Forgive me, my brother, but it was my understanding that it was only your legs that are paralyzed.”
“Last I checked, legs were a crucially important aspect to dance.”
“But not the only aspect. You can clap, you can shake your arms. By the Great Spirit, the way you’ve been working out your arms, I half-expect you to be walking upside-down on your hands soon.”
“I’ve not been training them to walk on them. Someone has to defend the village while you have your fun out there traveling.”
“Truer than you know. I spoke with Father earlier. He says the French are likely to attack soon. Tells me they lured the Onontake chiefs into a trap, captured them all like animals. They even got Tadodaho.”
“What?!”
“On my honor, it’s true.”
Runs-Into-Darkness’ brow furrowed in a deep worry. He was right to–even a boy as young as Little Bear knew how important Tadodaho was. Tadodaho was not just a name, but a title of the head chief of the Onontake. Anyone who became the head chief bore the name Tadodaho, an homage to the man who was their chief before the Five Nations united as Haudenosaunee, a fearsome warrior of legend who was persuaded to join forces with the other nations by Hiawatha and the Great Peacemaker. As a testament to how feared he was, every man named Tadodaho since was not only the head chief of the Onontake, but of all of the Five Nations. He was the most important man in Haudenosaunee politics, and his kidnapping was therefore an incomparable loss. What’s worse, in the case of Tadodaho’s death, the next one chosen was always another chief from the Onontake, as their nation was the keeper of the council fire. With all of the Onontake chiefs kidnapped, there would be no one to take leadership of all the Five Nations.
“This is terrible news,” Runs-Into-Darkness said. “Why are we celebrating?”
“Because today is a day of celebration,” Red Fox said. “I asked Father the same thing. He said tomorrow we will worry about the fate of Tadodaho. Let us save tomorrow’s worries for tomorrow, and enjoy today’s victories today. And for our new mother’s sake, I agree. Speaking of which…”
Red Fox motioned to the other side of the fire, where their father and new mother ate the last of their dinner together. Having finished eating, The Smoke Rises began to enjoy her, running his hands over her naked body.
“That’s my cue to leave,” Runs-Into-Darkness said. He wheeled his way back to the longhouse, and Red Fox started to follow.
“Where are you going?” Little Bear asked.
“I’m going to talk to him,” Red Fox said. “This is the first time he’s spoken to me in weeks, and I’m going to try and push my luck and see if I can get a whole conversation out of him.”
So the two brothers left the Little Bear alone, with little to do. He left his finished bowl by the fire, wandering out of the village back down to the stream. The sun was falling now, and it was too dark to make out any fish in the water. He skipped a stone across the brook, trying to find what made these waters mean so much to his oldest brother. He supposed, like many other things, he would simply come to understand it one day, when he was older.