The next morning, as soon as she had gulped down her rice, Ziibi ran to her father’s medicine shed. Into a basket she placed what she would need to make yellow dye. She found the inner and outer bark of an alder tree, the bark of the sumac and wild plumb roots. These would make lovely shades of yellow. Yellow was a simple color to make but it was like the sun and had many shades of brightness. Ziibi felt that the bear had liked to walk in the sun. From another container she took the bark of the bur oak and bark and root of the butternut. These would make the color black once she had boiled them down. Careful not to tip over her basket she walked to Ogaa’s house. Ajijaak was outside with his mother. When Ziibi saw him she said, “You must leave.”

Ajijaak turned to her. His left eyebrow was cocked up in question.

In one breath she said, “I am making dye for the bear head, and no man must look upon it while I make it, you have to leave now.”

His mother, Nika, smiled at Ziibi. “She is right.”

Ajijaak made signs at his mother. Ziibi clearly read them. He called her a child, he said she might ruin the skull.

Angrily his mother said, “Your noko said she could do it and she can. No go on. This is woman’s work here.”

Crushed by Ajijaak’s condescension and suddenly unsure of herself, Ziibi ducked her head and went behind the house. A fire was burning for the dye making. A pot boiled over the fire. The bear skull laid bleached white on a birch bark mat. She went to it and ran her fingers over the smooth surface of the skull. Her eyes traced the delicate lines where the bones meshed to form the skull. As her fingertips touched the cold bone, she felt again the spirit of the bear. She felt his strength. The self-confidence that Ajijaak had crushed in her, returned. She could do this. The bear would guide her. She would feel the pattern she must paint, the way she had felt the pattern when she made the bark bitten bear. Only it would be her fingers that made the design and not her teeth.

Nika came round from the front. She said, “Do not mind him. You will do fine. Men often think they know best, my son is no different. Come let us make the dye.”

The two began putting the bark in the pots according to tradition. It was a rather long and hot process, but finally, they had the dye ready. When it had cooled, Ziibi sliced a goose feather with her bone knife. She then dipped the quill into the dye. She did not paint with a brush at first, instead she carefully followed the lines of the skull with the quill, making a swirling pattern when it seemed necessary with the dark yellow dye. While decorating the skull, she lost all track of time and her surroundings. Several more quills were made as she put in the lighter shades and the black outlines. As she worked she entered the sacred space where creativity thrives and gives.

*

In the evening wind, the voices of ancestors chanted in the wind. Ajijaak could hear them. He could feel the spirit of the bear. His eyes flashed across the gathering crowd, he saw Miinan, and she saw him. The smile she gave him sent a wave of excitement through him. Had she ever smiled at him like that before?

Night was falling. Asaawe called to him. He went to join his Uncle Ogaa, his cousin Asaawe and his friend Azhe’o. They held the bear skull between them. For the first time Ajijaak saw what Ziibi had painted on the skull. It was a bear in the midst of a swirling sun. The swirls were filled with life and power. She was just a little girl, how had she created such a work? A chill came over him. Had Ziibi really somehow partaken of the spirit of the bear? How was this possible? In the distance he heard a moose call to another moose. The men made their way to the place by the fire. Uncle Ogaa offered tobacco to the spirit of the bear before the village. Beyond the inner circle of men, Ajijaak saw Ziibi. Her eyes were fixed on him. He expected to see pride in her eyes because of what she had painted, but he did not. What he saw was humility and gratitude for the honor she had received. In an instant he saw how hard her path would be. It would be a steep climb that would require much discipline. The Great Mystery would hold her and would guide her. The vision evaporated. Why had he received a vision of Ziibi when he has not received one of his own? He felt hard eyes on him. It was Ziibi’s mother’s. She did not like him. She thought he was looking at Miinan. He turned his eyes back to the skull.

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They raised the bear skull. The wind caught the tassels Ziibi had dyed black and fashioned from sweet grass. The tassels sang with the voices of the ancestors. The entire village felt the power of the bear. They would be blessed. Uncle Ogaa gave a whoop. The time for bear steaks had come. The women served the sizzling steaks. The meat was good, not tough. After the meal, there was music. The men of Ajijaak’s family were all skilled dancers. They chose to dance their story of killing the bear instead of speaking it. Azeho did not dance. He sat and watched the others. The reed flute began to play, and the soft sound of the gourd rattled. The men took their places. On silent feet the men kept time to the gourd. In slow circles they approached the fire. Suddenly Ziibi appeared holding the bear skull aloft. The firelight made the yellow on the skull glow with strange light. The flicker of the flames made the image of the bear on the skull look alive. Uncle Ogaa did not shoo the little girl away, so the dance continued.

Ajijaak approached the bear skull just as he had done the real bear. In the audience he was sure he felt Miinan’s eyes upon him. He spun and swirled as he thrust the spear at the bear and then he reached for his invisible bow and arrow. Ajijaak glanced at Miinan. Her eyes danced light for him. He almost lost his place, but kept going to finish the story. At this point in the dance Uncle Ogaa leapt forward with his spear and he thrust it at the bear skull. Ziibi did not even flinch. She held the skull firmly outward. The flute stopped, the gourd stopped just as the beating heart of the bear had stopped. Ziibi danced a small circle around Uncle Ogaa and handed him the skull. He took it from her and held it over his head. He brought the skull low and bowed. The villagers nodded their approval. Ziibi danced out of the ring of fire light.

Ajijaak saw Mikinaak, Ziibi’s father leave the circle. He was most likely going after Ziibi. She might be in trouble for spontaneously entering the dance without invitation. His worry over Ziibi was quickly eclipsed by a warm hand upon his bare shoulder. It was Miinan. The touch of her hand was brief but it sent a thunderbolt through him. She said, “Meet me by the river.” Then she walked away toward the women. Though he listened to the men talk around him, his eyes constantly strayed to Miinan. He kept a watch out for her family too. Her father had returned with Ziibi. The little girl did not look upset, just very thoughtful.

Finally, Miinan slipped away from the other girls. Ajijaak waited only moments before he ducked away from the men. His feet carried him so swiftly to the river; he arrived there before Miinan did. He watched her slowly saunter towards him. How lovely she looked in the star light. She came to where he stood. Her eyes looked up into his.

The next thing he knew, Miinan slipped her hand in his.

“I love the way you dance. Everything your tongue cannot say, your body can dance it. The way you move is beautiful.”

Confused by this sudden onslaught of compliments Ajijaak just stared at her. Something did not feel right. Without any more words, Miinan turned to him and wrapped her arms around him. He could feel the flight of her heart within her. He could feel the softness of her emerging breasts. His lips brushed against the hollow of her temple.

A small voice asked, “What are you doing?”

It was Ziibi. “If father catches you, it will be bad for both of you and worse for Ajijaak. Run home Miinan, before you do any more harm.”

Miinan pulled away from him and hissed at her sister, “You run home.”

In a flat matter of fact voice, Ziibi said, “No.”

From further away, Ajijaak heard the voice of Miinan’s mother calling out for her. She turned and immediately fled.

Ziibi did not. She remained where she was staring at him. He turned away from her and started walking along the riverbank. She was instantly beside him. She only spoke one sentence. “My sister has been promised to another and she is afraid she will not like him.”

What? He spun around and faced Ziibi. Anxiously he signed, “Promised?”

“Yes, when the villages meet, she will meet him. When she becomes a woman, he will come to live with us. My father has spoken and my mother has agreed. Miinan will not cross either of them and you know that.” She turned and ran up the path to the village.

Stunned by her words Ajijaak watched her. As usual even in darkness she did not stumble over roots, rocks or pits in the trail. She moved as if she glided above the surface of the earth. When at last she disappeared from sight, Ajijaak turned his eyes to the river. It moved slow and liquid toward the Great Sea. Desperation pounded inside of him. He and Miinan could run away, they could move to another village. Yes…no, they could not, he could not leave his mother and noko. He must hunt for them, and care for them. He would not run away like his father had. But what could he do? How? Perhaps Miinan would remain a child a bit longer, perhaps a solution would present itself before her time of woman hood came upon her. He looked up at the sky and begged the spirits of guidance.

A gentle wind caused the birch leaves to whisper secrets he could not understand.