It was raining. Ziibi liked the sound the drops made as they danced upon the birch bark house. She imitated the steps the raindrops made. Her mother looked out the door flap and sighed. Her sigh said more than words could. Father had still not returned and her angry worry was turning to fear. Miinan and Noko sat by the fire stringing porcupine quills onto long strings according to the colors they had dyed them. Ziibi’s mother said, “I hope he is not gone much longer. The other villages will be joining us in a few more days. What will they think if our medicine man is not here?”

Noko said, “They will think he has other things to do. Come sit down and do not worry. When it is time he will return.”

Ziibi’s mother did not move. She remained staring out the door flap. Ziibi stopped her dancing. Her mother said, “Remember Miinan’s young man is coming. I want Mikinaak here.”

Hearing this news, Miinan’s dropped a quill. Her face turned bright red. Her eyes went to the ground and she groped for a quill that was right before her, but she did not see it.

Noko said, “He will come. Worry will not hurry his canoe along the river.”

Ziibi’s mother scowled and stepped out into the rain. Noko sighed. There were times when Ziibi wondered if Noko liked the mate his son had chosen. Usually Noko and Ziibi’s mother got along well enough, but not always.

Having finally found the stray quill Miinan slid it onto her string. She asked, “Have you seen the young man Noko? Do you know about his family?”

Noko smiled. “Yes, they are good people. I have known them since your father was young. Their men are strong and kind. You can be happy if you choose to honor your partner.”

Ziibi saw her sister blush. Miinan asked, “Are they handsome?”

“Child, that is not what matters. What matters is that they are good and they walk an honorable path.”

A frown tugged at Miinan’s lips but she did not give way to it. If her Noko saw her make a face, she would be scolded. Miinan, pretty herself liked pretty things and pretty people. Ziibi bet she was afraid she would have ugly children. What did it matter if they were ugly, as long as they were good? It would matter to Miinan.

Suddenly Noko laughed. “Miinan, do not worry, some are blessed with goodness and pleasing looks. You are such a person, perhaps your young man will be too.”

All at once Ziibi thought of Ajijaak. He was a good and pleasing to look at, but he was not whole. How would he respond to Miinan’s future mate? His heart would suffer. There was no way for it not to. It would be very hard for him. Ziibi wanted to protect him to help him, but what could she do? She could pray. Yes she could pray, Father said there was power in prayer.

She turned her ears back to the rhythm of the rain upon the roof. Her feet began to dance to its rhythm. As she danced she prayed that Ajijaak’s good nature would not be spoiled by the bitterness or anger loosing Miinan would cause him. With all that was within her she prayed his heart would heal and that he would find the life that had been designed for him. All at once she felt as if the sky had opened up and poured hope into her. She did not know how Ajijaak would be protected from his own heart, but she had hope, that he would. The world was filled with mystery and paths that lead to good as well as evil. Ajijaak must choose the good path. He must. Outside she heard the spirits sing with the wind that blew the rain.

Still sorting and stringing quills Miinan sat silent beside Noko. Her eyes were staring far away. Her face was still flushed. She did not even see Ziibi. She did not see anything. Was she thinking of her young man? Most likely. Ziibi wondered, What will it be like to share our home with him? This young man would come between her and her sister. He would share her sister’s bed the way her father shared her mother’s bed. Where would Ziibi sleep? Pushed against the edge of the wall she suspected. She would have to keep herself warm when winter came. Anger filled her. She did not want to give up her sister. Her concern for Ajijaak completely left her, as self-concern echoed deep inside of her. Nothing would be the same, once the young man came, nothing would ever be the same. He would put a baby in Miinan somehow and Ziibi would loose her place as the youngest in her family. The young man’s coming would not be good, at least not for her.

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

Wet and Irritable her mother came back inside. Sharply she said, “Ziibi stop jumping around. Find something quiet to do.” She sighed as she dried herself off with a mat. To Noko she said, “I hope your son is not on the river. This rain is making it swell and making it flow more swiftly.”

Ziibi knew he rain was not coming down hard enough to increase the flow of the river, nor was it falling at a pace that would make the river swell. Her mother was just worried. Noko did not speak. She motioned for Ziibi to come join her by the fire. Reluctantly she went. She did not like to string quills.

*

With excitement Ziibi threw on her elk cape and raced outside. The people were coming, and soon her father would come too. The people were traveling by canoe and on foot to join together to celebrate and compete with each other in foot and canoe races, tree and rock climbing, and join in dancing and singing. There would be stories and handicrafts to share. Other Midewiwin would be there too, and she would see them. As Ziibi ran down the trail people were greeting each other. She recognized one man to be a friend of her father’s Bizhiw. Beside him, walked his son, Maang. He had grown much since last year. He was as tall as his father. Bizhiw called to her, “Ziibi, how are you?”

She stopped abruptly almost falling forward in her haste. “I am good.”

He asked, “Where is your father?”

“He is not home yet.”

Bizhiw looked annoyed. “Not home yet, but he knows we have much to discuss.”

Ziibi noticed that Maang’s color changed slightly. In that instant she knew, this was the man her father had chosen for Miinan. This would be her mate. He was a handsome boy with shining black braids and a broad chest. His face had strong lines, but not so strong as to be ugly. His eyes were kind, and they were glowing.

Behind her Ziibi’s mother said, “My man said he would be home soon.” Ziibi did not know her mother could move so swiftly. She said,“You two have much to discuss to arrange the union of our children.” Bizhiw only nodded.Miinan who followed her mother heard what she said. A look of relief, then joy stole across her features. She smiled at Maang and he returned her smile. Ziibi felt something pass through her, what it was she did not know, but something binding had just taken place.

Not wanting to waste anymore time listening to things that did not concern her, Ziibi nodded to her elders and dashed away from the group. Now that she knew whom Miinan would share her life with, she was not so worried. Maang had always been nice to her. Last summer he had not laughed at her like the other boys had when she tripped during a dance. Even Ajijaak had wiped a smile from his lips. It had angered her. She never tripped and she still didn’t understand why she tripped then.

On swift feet she ran to the river. A single canoe glided silently toward shore. In it was two women, Midewiwin. She recognized them immediately. They wore fine skins decorated with quills in the most brilliant shades of yellow and purple Ziibi had ever seen. Their long black braids were wound around with tiny rose-colored shells. Their faces had fine boned jaws and large foreheads from which their black hair was swept back. In unison they turned their eyes upon Ziibi and smiled. As the slid their canoe up to the bank they said, “So, Little One, we have heard that you have a calling.”

Ziibi was awestruck by these tall women. They held themselves straight and moved with grace onto the bank. Up close she could see the strands of gray that silvered their hair. Fine lines creased their smiling dark eyes. As they passed the still gaping Ziibi, each patted her on the head. Ziibi expected to feel some power pass from their hands onto her head, but that did not happen. All that happened was that she felt the warmth of their palms and the kindness of their hearts. Would she someday be like them? If she were accepted as Midewiwin, she would be sent to study with a woman. Would it be one them? Dismay filled her. To be taught by any woman would mean leaving home. There were no female Midewiwin anywhere near their village. She did not want to leave home, even for a little while to learn what she might need to learn. Home was not a single place to her. They had their summer and their winter places where they lived. They also had the place they stayed when the maple sap began to run. Home was her mother, father, sister and noko. She wanted their unit to be as it always had been. She glanced up the trail at the women’s tall figures. Beyond them she saw Miinan and Maang. A sob tore through her throat. Her life, her family was about to change and she did not want it! If only Maang would go away!

Careless of her direction she raced through the trees, climbed boulders and chased the river down stream. In her headlong rush, she heard someone call her name. On the river in his canoe was her father. He saw her tears. He slid the canoe along side her. “What troubles you?”

All she could do was shake her head.

Her father climbed out of the canoe and splashed through the water, pulling it behind him. When he had placed it on the bank, he went to her and gathered her in his arms. She heard the beat of his heart and felt the warmth of him. He tilted her face up and asked again, “What is wrong?”

In a shuddering voice she said, “I do not want things to change.”

“Change is a natural flow of life.” He let go of her chin and looked into her eyes. “It requires a stretching and letting go, a receiving of things that are unfamiliar and sometimes frightening. You have met every change that life has brought you and you will continue to do so.”

Would she? She did not know. All the changes she had faced thus far had been made in the presence of her family. Now even that was about to change.

Her father said, “Come your mother is waiting and we must go.” With her help he pushed the canoe back into the river. Ziibi climbed inside. She felt the buoyancy of the canoe and flow of the water beneath its birch bark. She had been named after this river. It had given her a name and it had carried her to many places. It had brought those Midewiwin women to their village. Where would it take her next? For now, it was taking her home.