In the pre-dawn light, Ajijaak gathered his tools. His hands were skillful and he had fashioned a stone axe. The edge of the stone head was sharp. From his stash he took replacement heads. Stone broke and needed to be replaced, if it did not break it would need to be sharpened, so he packed his sharpening stones in a leather pouch. Last night his noko had filled his meat bag with dried meat and berries. He grabbed his bow and slung it over his shoulder. A small leather sling held his arrows. Each arrowhead was tipped with a burr that would burrow deep into an animal’s flesh as it moved. It would slice through the innards until it killed it. They were fearsome arrowheads, and effective. Last of all he gathered his three spears and a hand made spade. When he stepped outside, his mother put his medicine bag around his neck. She asked, “Where is your robe? The nights are cold.”

Ajijaak turned to go back inside. His noko said, “I will get it.” She hobbled through the door and came out with an elk skin robe. Gently she placed over Ajijaak’s arm. In a soft voice she murmured, “May you succeed.” Her love for him shone in her dark old eyes. He touched his cheek to hers. She reached up a wrinkled hand and patted his face. Her breath smelled of birch bark. “Be safe,” she said. Ajijaak nodded against her hand. She released him.

His mother pressed his forearm. “Be safe. Do not take unnecessary chances. If the bear is to be yours, he will be yours.”

Unnecessary chances? There was no such thing in Ajijaak’s mind. All chances were worth what he longed for. He did not meet his mother’s eyes as he bid her farewell. The morning was crisp and almost cold. The shadows cast long patterns on the path. Ahead were the river and his cousin Asaawe’s canoe. His uncle and cousin waved to him as he approached. A branch snapped behind him. He saw a small figure dart behind a cedar tree. Ziibi.

His Uncle Ogaa also saw the little girl. “Get home little one before your noko finds you missing. Bear hunts are for men, not curious little girls.”

Ajijaak waited for the child to run crying back home, but she did not move from her hiding place.

Uncle Ogaa shouted, “I will come get you and take you to your father if you do not go.”

Still nothing.

Angrily, Uncle Ogaa went to the cedar where Ziibi had hidden. Ajijaak dropped his things and followed. He did not want Uncle Ogaa to be too harsh with the child. Swifter than his uncle he reached the shadow of the cedar first. No one was there. In the soft earth were the footprints of a child, but she was gone. He looked up in the tree she was not there. How swift and silent she moved, like a deer.

His uncle glanced around. He was puzzled. He shook his head and muttered, “Mikinaak needs to keep a leash on that girl. She will get into much trouble.” He shouted, “You best be home Ziibi!” To Ajijaak he said, “Let us go. We have been delayed long enough.” Ajijaak obeyed his uncle and went back to the canoe. After they loaded the canoe with their goods they pushed off into the river. Noiselessly they paddled up stream. The white cedars watched them. Once Ajijaak thought he saw the flash of sunlight upon a little girl’s braid, but on second glance it was only a crow. He hoped Ziibi had gone home like she was supposed to.

The sky was cloudless. Large snapping turtles sunned themselves on lichen-covered rocks. As Ajijaak studied these sleeping turtles he looked at their long sharp mouths. They could break a finger with the thrust of their jaws. They could even cut it off. Their patterned shells were often used for bowls and his noko liked turtle soup. Ajijaak did not much care for it. He turned away from the turtles. Mina an’s father’s name was Mikinaak, it meant turtle and watching them made him feel somehow hopeless. He turned away from them; he must keep his spirits up. He must focus on the tasks at hand and not be distracted by his doubts. His eyes followed the bright path of the river.

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Asaawe said, “There is where I found bear droppings and claw scratches.” He pointed at an outcropping of gray rocks.

“That is good,” said Uncle Ogaa. “The old bear trap is not far from here. We will have to clean it out and repair it, but that will take less time than having to dig it out and build a new one.” Since they did not want to disturb any bears in the area they paddled further upstream. When they landed Uncle Ogaa took them silently through the brush to the place were the old trap was. Most of the rope that held the structure together would have to be replaced. The interior of the trap was filled with debris. Repairing the trap was a slow process. First they had to dismantle it and test each log for soundness. A bear was a fierce creation and it could shred a man with a single swipe of its paw. One by one Uncle Ogaa tested the logs. He showed the boys what to look for in soundness. One log was riddled with ants. It had to be thrown away. For the most part the logs were good.

With wooden spades and their axes they enlarged the dirt floor of the trap. Uncle Ogaa wanted to catch the big old black bear that had eluded him for seven summers. He said, “He is fat, I saw him seven nights ago. We must make this big enough for him to comfortably walk inside.”

To replace the bad logs they went further upstream and selected some stout pines. The pine resin was sticky and fragrantly sharp. Father Sun was reaching the horizon by the time they finished. Uncle Ogaa said, “We will stop now. We need to set up our camp before darkness falls.”

The boys left the trees where they laid and followed Uncle Ogaa to the canoe. In clay pot wrapped in wet skins was a heap of live coals for their fire. The fire would keep the wolves and coyotes away. It would also give them a warm supper if they caught any fish.

Once camp was set up, the boys took the nets and went to the river. After several unsuccessful casts, Uncle Ogaa came to the shore laughing. “So, the fish do not wish to sacrifice themselves for you two. For me, they will, I am worthy of their sacrifice.” He sprinkled some of the dogwood bark he smoked in his pipe on the surface of the water. He held out his hands and murmured, “My brothers the fish, we are hungry this night. Come to our nets that we may gain strength from your goodness.” He cast out the net with a strong snap of his hands. The net sank down into the water. Slowly he pulled it. Two large catfish snared themselves in it. With a triumphant whoop, Uncle Ogaa pulled the net out of the water. The gleaming fish struggled in the dying light. Their gills heaved in the air they could not breathe. Uncle Ogaa thanked the fish for offering their lives for them. Then he grasped them firmly, so they could not slash him with their long pointed whiskers. He looked at the boys and said, “That is how you catch fish.”

Back at the clearing Asaawe added kindling to the coals and stirred them. Bright fingers of fire leapt up. Uncle Ogaa placed the cleaned catfish fillets on green branch skewers he had made. The fish sizzled over the fire. The smell was pleasing. As Ajijaak waited for his supper his thoughts wandered. The clearing reminded of the place he had not dreamed. Ziibi’s words came back to him, “You did not dream because your mind and heart are too full of my sister. You must set aside what your desire and seek what is required of you.” What was required of him? He pushed the question a way from him. She was just a foolish little girl. Next time he would dream. Next time the dream would be all he hoped it would be. Now, this night, he would focus on the bear. The bear that would come and he would kill. The kill would make him a man. A real man, worthy of honor, honor that would win him Minnaan.