Soon their winter hut was ready. Ajijaak had banked it all around with brush to help keep out the winter cold. The sky was dull gray with clouds so dense not even the pale round of the sun penetrated them. An icy wind was blowing. The air smelled of snow. Soon, soon they blanket of winter would obliterate the earth in its white cloak. Soon, the terrible beauty of snow would make the earth appear pure and faultless. A shiver reverberated through his body. Winter like a beautiful woman, could be deceptive in what hid beneath her beauty. Starvation could come, if winter lasted to long or was too fierce. Ajijaak felt a fearful respect for winter. He ducked back inside the door flap.
Misko-amik sat huddled in his blankets before the fire, slowly drinking the herb tea Wiinizik had brewed for him. His bones hurt today. His eyes were narrow slits as he stared with unseeing eyes at the flames. It must be hard to old. Ajijaak took the rice and blueberries Wiinizik had warmed for him. He ate in silence.
Outside the wind gave a sudden shriek hearing the sound, Misko-amik shuddered. In a low voice he said, “I will not see the spring.”
Alarm flashed in Wiinizik’s eyes. Ajijaak could tell she wanted to rebuke her grandfather, but that was not done. If he had seen his future, then he had seen it. She did however ask, “Will your hands hold my baby’s.”
He turned his head toward his granddaughter. “Yes, but, not for long. My body is worn out, and my spirit longs to be free of it.”
Ajijaak saw Wiinizik visibly relax. Often, Misko-amik said this. For all their sakes, Ajijaak prayed the old man was wrong. It would be hard to dig a grave in frozen ground, and hard to console his woman and care for a new life. Another thought came to him. What would Wiinizik do, how would she cope when if the old man did die? Their people did not fear death, it was a natural part of the life cycle. One came to earth and lived until it was time for one to pass from life. What Ajijaak feared, was the absence of spoken words. Wiinizik and Misko-amik had long conversations. What would she do with out the sound of another human voice? What would he do? He liked the music of the old man’s voice. He enjoyed listening to the talk over the fire at night. When the baby came, the baby would bring sound, but would not be able to speak for quite a while. It was good they were moving to the village come spring. Wiinizik would need companions who spoke as she spoke, but he could not shake the fear that she would not want him, once they moved to the village. She loved him, but he who had known little of love and much of rejection found trusting her to love him regardless of where they lived hard. The village also brought back the old fears of rejection and the whispering voices of judgment. Still, for the sake of love and safety, he must do, what he must do. He finished his breakfast and stood. With his hands he signed that he was going to check his fishing traps.
Wiinizik nodded. Her eyes held her peace. She was not worried about her grandfather. She stood and walked Ajijaak to the door flap. She bound his robe tightly around him. In his ear she whispered, “Nimishoomis, is in much pain. I am not worried. He will see the spring.” She pressed her face close to his and sent him out to his lines.
The wind hit him like a hard slap. The sky threatened to release its bounty of ice. Quickly, he went to the river and checked his traps. As he bent over the first one, the sting of sleet smote his cheek. He pulled the first latticed trap out. It had a trout, a nice big fish that would make a fine supper. He dumped into his fish basket and continued on to the next trap.
When he returned home he had five fish. Wiinizik took the fish from him when he entered. She did not smile and her brow was creased. He looked at her, trying to meet her eyes, but she would not look at him. His eyes darted to Misko-amik. Was he feeling bad? Had they quarreled? He watched his woman waddled to the fire. The roundness of her belly had dropped. He had heard this happened before a baby came, but how long before, he had no idea. He pulled off his robes and removed his wet moccasins. He came to the fire to warm his frozen hands. The flame brought painful heat tingling through his fingers. While he thawed himself, Wiinizik cleaned and gutted the fish with a sharp bone knife. Her hands moved so quickly and she was so adept at it, that she had the fish filleted by the time Ajijaak was warm.
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Wiinizik got up and her movement was slow and heavy. Anxiety pierced Ajijaak. It had taken him a long time to plant a baby her. They had worked very hard at it, and it had seemed that the blessing would never come. It had though. After Wiinizik put the fish in a basket, she wiped off her hands. Her face remained immobile. Not able to stand her silence any longer, he got up and went to her. He laid his hand on her belly? His eyes asked her if it was the baby?
Fear leapt in her eyes. She was very afraid. She whispered. “The baby has dropped. It hurts me when it moves. What if our baby is too big to come out of me?”
From the fire, Misko-amik said, “Your hips are wide.”
Anger flashed in Wiinizik. She hated it when her grandfather listened to conversations that were not his to hear. Ajijaak pulled her to him. He felt the bulge of their child. The baby was usually very active, but now seemed to be sleeping. Seeming to read his thoughts Misko-amik said, “The child is resting, storing up her energy to enter this life.”
Wiinizik buried her face in Ajijaak’s shoulder. He felt her body tremble. She was afraid. He too was afraid. Neither possessed the peace of the old man. Ajijaak wished with all he was that his mother was here. She had help deliver many babies and the babies had thrived and so did their mothers. He had seen many creatures born. Once he found an injured doe in labor. He had helped the tiny wet fawn slip into life, just as the doe passed into the next world. It had been one of the most beautiful and sad experiences he had ever had, and never until this moment had he connected such thoughts to his own woman and own child. What if the baby was too big what if neither survived this life but did go on to the next one? If only his mother were here. Oh why was he so dull that he had not taken Wiinizik to her when they first learned a baby was coming. His mother would know what to do.
Again, Misko-amik spoke, “Stop this fear. It chases away the good spirits. You must trust yourselves and your bodies to know what to do. Your bodies merged to form this life and your bodies will deliver this child. The sisters gave Wiinizik some medicine. When the time comes, you will brew the tea, and I will chant. The Great Mystery will hover over our home and push life into our midst. Come sit with me.”
Still clinging to each other Ajijaak and Wiinizik went to him and sat down.
Misko-amik’s blind eyes looked at nothing, and yet Ajijaak sensed his gaze was going back in time, gathering images and words. Was the old man about to tell Wiinizik’s favorite story, the one she never tired of hearing and always found comfort in? His voice was soft as he said, “Long ago Kitchi Manitou slept in the great darkness of his own presence. In his sleep a dream came, a strange dream in which a vast array of fine points of light shot like flaming fire through the darkness. The arrow lights merged forming a great light and a lesser light, the sun and the moon. The lights revealed the vastness of Kitche Manitou’s presence. He looked down and saw he was not alone. There in the distance was the perfect orb of Nimaamaa Aki. She was empty, lonely and waiting, dazed by the brilliance of light. Kitche Manitou reached down to her. With his great hands he created land, and rock and water from nothing because he had the power to do so. From nothing He made all life. Nothing in the hands of Kitche Manitou is everything. He placed the rice and grasses and stretched up the trees. He blew out his life giving spirit and the rice and grasses danced with the trees. Nimaamaa Aki smiled. Next he fashioned the fish and the birds. His breath swirled around the fish and the birds and they swam and flew and filled the water and sky with their life and their beauty. Nimaamaa Aki laughed for joy. She watched as He turned to the land He had formed upon her. He pursed his lips as if about to touch her with is mouth and then, from nothing he conjured all animal life. He blew fiercely into their nostrils. Their nostrils quivered and their hearts began to beat. They leapt or crawled, moving through the dancing grasses. The beauty and wonder of it filled Nimaama Aki. Still Kitche Manitou was not finished with creating. Last of all he made The People. The People were last because they lacked the constancy of rock and earth, the rejuvenation and power of water, the independence and beauty of plants, and the variety and humility of creatures. But to the people, he gave the power, He possessed…the power to dream.”
A shiver went through Ajijaak, as he thought of the dream that guided him to his woman, and this old man.
Misko-amik continued, “With this power The People could go beyond the borders of their limited bodies and eyes. They saw things that were and are yet to come, just as Kitche Manitou sees. We are the people, sacredly trusted with the power of dreaming. It is our greatest gift but can be turned to a curse if it is abused or not heeded. Listen to the words dreams bring, discern what is for this life and what is for the next.”