Ziibi awoke from sound sleep. In her ears echoed the cry of a newborn baby. She heard the sound of the blizzard and thought it must just have been the wind. As she laid waiting for sleep to reclaim her, she became aware of another presence in the house. The wind was too shrill for her to hear anything but its shrieking, but she sensed someone was there. She opened her eyes and looked at the fire. Huddled beside it was a person, covered in robes. By the width of the shoulders and the length of the body Ziibi suspected this was a man and he was asleep. Her heart began to beat fast. Was this the unknown benefactor, sheltering himself in the sisters’ winter home? If so, she would see him in the morning and know who he was, finally. Excitement stirred her to greater wakefulness. She stared long and hard at his graying black hair. His head had a fine shape. One of his hands had slipped from beneath the robes revealing strong thick fingers. The fingers seemed strangely familiar, like she had seen them on another’s hand, but whose? She studied the hand so long that she drifted back into the land of dreams.

In her dreams she was moving down a swift river and the sky was the color blueberries. A boy was in the canoe with her. His hand held a small paddle and the paddle moved swiftly though the water.She could not see his face, but he was singing, and the voice he possessed was that of a bird, not a raucous crow but a songbird. She tried to understand his words, but she could not. She leaned forward and touched his shoulder. He turned to her and smiled. He was a handsome boy, with fine features. His hair was the color of the blueberry sky. Stars began to poke the surface of the night. The boy turned away from her and began to coo, the soft coo of the dove. All at once Ziibi was aware of someone she had greatly missed. It was Mikwam. He was curled in the center of the canoe. She scooped her Guardian into her arms. His body was not cold, but glowing with warmth and life. Happiness stole through her.

*

The next morning when Ziibi awoke, the blizzard had spent itself. A strange sadness filled her. It had been good to be with Mikwam, even if only in her dream. Would he come to her again? She prayed so. All at once she forgot her dream and remembered the man. Was he still there? She raised herself up on her elbows and looked at the fire. Mitigomin was stirring a pot of spiced sugar rice. She smiled at Ziibi and said, “You slept through the storm. It was a short one. It looks like this day will be fair.”

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Ziibi’s eyes swept the parameters of the house. Her crane still slept in his basket. His wing had yet to mend. Mitigoka sat in the shadows grinding some bark in a stone bowl with a pestle. No one else was there. Where was the man? She could not ask, but she could say what she saw. “I did not sleep so much, I was awake and I saw a man sleeping by our fire.”

Mitigomin’s face did not even change. She nodded, but did not say more. This meant the man was none of Ziibi’s business and no further questions were invited. Though questions were not wanted, Ziibi still told what she saw. “He had graying hair, and thick strong fingers. I have seen such a hand before, but I do not remember where.”

Mitgokaa stopped her grinding and said, “When it is time, you will remember.”

Frustrated Ziibi looked away from the sisters lest they see the anger that was growing inside of her. She wished her tongue was sharper, she wished she was bolder, but no she was obedient and also trusting. These sisters treated her well, she must not risk their displeasure by further conversation. She got off her pallet and rolled up her robes. She went to the fire and held her hands out to it. While she squatted there, her eyes examined the place where the man had slept, there was not a single trace of him. Who was he and were did he go? She took the bowl of rice handed her and ate automatically. The wind was still blowing outside and it would have erased all traces of whichever direction the man had headed. He must not live far from them, though. Fish and rabbits appeared regularly at their door flap. He seemed to know instinctively when fresh food was needed. Deep down, Ziibi resolved to find him.

Once again, Mitgokaa ceased her grinding of bark and spoke, “Curiosity run wild leads to harm.”

Though this truth had proved itself many times over the course of other lives, Ziibi had yet to try it in her own. Like all things not yet experienced, the reality of consequences could not be grasped. When Ziibi finished her breakfast, she took up the small stone bowl and pestle that the sisters had given her. From their store of herbs she took some dogbane root and began to grind it. The powder she made would be used for headaches. It could be snuffed up the nose as the powder itself, or put on hot stones. Another way it could be used was to moisten it with lukewarm water and apply it to a paste over incisions the sisters made on a patient’s temples. Ziibi had never seen this done, nor did she want to. With each day that passed she learned more about medicine and the more she learned about medicine the more she preferred it to the actual thought of treating people. There was too much bloodletting and pain in treatment. Deep inside she shrank from the thought of cutting people open, or lancing their skin.

The crane woke up and demanded to be fed.

*