The full face of the moon covered Ziibi in cold light. Between her legs the blood had come. Without her father’s knowledge she had been mixing herbs to stanch her flow. She did not want to become a woman. She did not want to leave her people and go to learn the way of Midewiwin. When she had been wakened by the cry of Miinan and Maang’s baby girl, she had felt a dampness between her legs and she had known its meaning. While Miinan nursed the baby back to sleep, Ziibi had remained very still. The tears that had slid down her cheeks continued their flow, long after the baby and Miinan were asleep. Finally, when she could bear it no more Ziibi had gotten up and crept through the door flap. Once outside she began to run. Soon Mikwam joined her. She was grateful for his companionship. He was a gift in the midst of all that was unfair about her life and its vocation.

The moon had cast long shadows through the autumn forest. More quickly than she expected she was by the Great Sea. Her feet took her to the rock where she had watched Ajijaak disappear five summers ago. Sometimes she dreamed of him. She dreamed of an old man and a pretty girl. There was also a child in these dreams. Had Ajijaak found his partner for life? Was he happy? All Ziibi knew was that she was most unhappy. She sat down on the rock and brought her knees beneath her chin. She did not want to face morning. The news of her womanhood would not sit well with her mother. She was bitter that her youngest child would be taken from her. Noko would be happy for her, she celebrated the flow of life, for some stupid reason. Perhaps old women who were in no danger of having babies did not remember well the terror of it. She had seen Miinan give birth and it was not something Ziibi ever wanted to do. It was after the baby Waaban’s birth that she had gone out to the plants and started talking to them, pleading with them to divulge secrets necessary to forestall her womanhood. The plants had responded as all plants did to her inquiries. She did not know why they gave up their secrets to her so easily, but she was thankful.

Beside her Mikwam sat. His ears twitched. He rose and darted into the nearby cedars. Someone was coming. She turned. It was Maang. He smiled at her, but she did not return his smile. She said, “I am in my first flow, stay back.”

His smile widened. Even in the cold light of the moon some warmth danced inside of him. It repelled her. Lately, she had noticed him watching her. It was not attention that she wanted or invited. He did not stop, but came and sat down beside her careful not to touch her. He knew great power resided in her, power that could kill him if he touched her. In a low voice he said, “In some families sister’s walk the path of life with the same man.”

“Not our family. I will be leaving the village to be trained in Midewiwin.” Though she did not look at him, she was aware his posture drooped. He had wanted her for his partner. Ugh. The noises he made over Miinan, he wanted to make over her. No. For the first time she was thankful she was going away. With the women, as a Midewiwin, she might not ever have to join her life to another. There was only one for her, and she he was her forever, even if she never saw him again in this life. Maang made a slight movement closer. Ziibi leapt to her feet. She looked down at Maang and said, “Go back to my sister. She will worry if she finds you missing. And remember, do not be so foolish as to think my father will allow you another partner. He will not.”

Maang did not say more. He scooted away from her and stood. His feet carried him swiftly back to the village. Once he was behind her sight, Ziibi turned her attention to the sea. The ebb and flow of the tide as it ceaselessly caressed the shore, the music of motion calmed the tumult within her. Somehow, she would meet this new life. Somehow. Mikwam returned. Ziibi knelt beside him and buried her face in his ruff. Unlike living creatures, he did not have a heartbeat, thus, in times of grief he was a poor companion. She let go of him. Her mind and body were tired, but she did not want to go home. With Mikwam watching over her, she would be safe. She curled herself into a ball and closed her eyes. The water sang to her a gentle song that soothed her into deep sleep.

*

“Ziibi,” called her Noko’s voice. It pulled her from dreamless sleep. She opened her eyes to first light. The world was purple with shadows. Above her stood her noko and Ajijaak’s noko. Both held baskets to spread along the path.On the ground beside her was her pack for her sojourn in the hut. She did not want to go to the hut. The old women smiled vague smiles that masked their concern for her. Ziibi got up. She was now taller than both of these women. Her body was slender with only slight curves of hips and breasts.She nodded but did not speak. Her time had come.

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The walk to the hut was slow because the old women had both grown slower with time. It had been five summers since Miinan had made her journey to the hut. Ziibi had been curious then, but now she was not. Most young women went to the hut expecting dreams of their future partners, their children, bead designs and recipes. Ziibi did not know what kind of dreams would come to her but she was certain they would not be regular. The leaves crunched beneath her feet as she walked. They passed the village. She knew her mother was watching for her, but she did not turn to her. The pain in her mother’s eyes was not something she had the power to soothe or ease. Her mother thought she did and that is what hurt her. Her mother thought that if only she were not Midewiwin their life could continue on as it had and be added to, not taken from. When they passed the village they made their way along the river for a while. The running river spoke to her of secrets that it might share.

When the old women reached the hut, they went inside. Noko said, “You must remember to tend your fire. The nights are getting colder.”

Ziibi put down her pouch and crawled into the small space. Ajijaak’s noko squatted on the floor and struck the flint. Sparks flew. Within moments flames licked at the kindling. Ziibi could never get a fire going so quickly. The warmth of the fire crept over her cold body. Her numbness began to fade and feeling returned with a rush. She did not want to feel. Ajijaak’s noko stood and said, “I will chant for you child.” She left the hut.

Noko sat down by the fire and motioned for Ziibi to sit beside her. She said, “You have entered the river of life. The river that will take you to the heights and depths of all the Great Spirit has made. Your body will one-day hold a world within it, the world of a child. You at this moment possess the greatest power of your life, the entering into the ability to hold life. No man can ever experience this mystery. That is why they hunt and fish, why they go to war. They want our power, but they cannot have it. It is ours alone. We always know that the child within us is half of us. Man never can be entirely certain, that is why some men try to own their women. No one can be owned. It is your mother’s greatest flaw. She wants to own all that was only meant to pass through her. You are not like her. You know that life must be released not horded. Your dreams will come and then you will have some hints of your life. Be careful my noozhishenh.” She bowed to Ziibi. Painfully she stood.She smiled down at Ziibi. “It will be well. Courage. You are not alone. Many have walked this path before.” She turned from her and left the hut. The north wind blew around the hut, causing the poles to groan. Ziibi felt the cold encircle her ankles and creep up her legs. She pulled her buckskin coat close around her.

*

A single spiral of gray smoke curled before her eyes. The fire was low, loosing its warmth. Soon she would be cold. The kindling was running out. Out side the rain beat upon the hut. Long rivulets of water ran down the walls and onto the floor. Noko would not come in this storm and Ziibi felt dirty. She longed to wash away the caked blood, the blood from the river of life within her.

Four nights had passed and each night her sleep had been fitful and dreamless. In the absence of visions she had been so sure of, she had begun to doubt her calling. Outside the wind hummed to her. It was not humming but murmuring words. Words? She listened closely. It was calling her name, “Ziibi, Ziibi...can you hear me?”

Ziibi became very still. Was it the wind or was it one of the bad braves...come to rape her? But it was cold and wet...the cold, the rain were supposed to protect her from those who would take what was hers. A shiver, that was not from the growing cold, rattled her teeth. She wanted her noko. She did not want to be here, alone, all alone in her filth and bad magic.

More voices whispered, ancestors or just the wind? She was so hungry. The smoke began to swirl upward. A voice from within it called, “Ziibi, Ziibi. Listen to my words. Your eye can see into the darkness like the eyes of an owl. In your mind, visions will come.”

Faces appeared in the smoke, old and young all female. One looked like a relative, the rest where unknown.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“We are the those who have come before you and those who will come after you.”

“Are you my ancestors and my daughters?”

“We are your people. People that will one day be forgotten if not for the few who chose to remember us. Will you choose to remember us and teach those of us who are coming to find dignity in their heritage?”

“Yes.”

They asked, “Why?”

Something mysterious swelled inside of Ziibi. She felt as if someone had placed a treasure within her. She said, “Because it is wrong to forget what is noble and true. Our people must know where we have been to know where we are going.”

“Well said, Bebangi-Ziibi. The Great Mystery journeys with you.” The smoke swirled and the faces disappeared. A sharp wind blew into the hut, rain hissed against her fire extinguishing it. She leapt to her feet to close the flap. When she turned back to the hut, it was dark...so dark. Ziibi blinked her eyes. The spirits were wrong, she could not see in the dark.Cold rushed in upon her. She pulled her damp furs around her and wadded her body into a tight ball.

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