Outside Ziibi felt the first stir of the wind’s warm breath. It was barely perceptible but she sensed the change. She sniffed the air. It seemed she smelled the Spring crouching beneath the snow waiting to burst to life. She thought, It is not time yet. She looked around their camp. Her crane, his wing now mended walked in the snow leaving triangle tracks. She did not know if he could fly, because he had yet to attempt it.Suddenly, she was aware that someone was watching her. With a slow movement of her head, she scanned the area. She heard one faint footfall behind her but that was all. She turned as fast as she could, but no one was there. Not an instant did she waste. She ran to the place where she had heard the sound, and she saw for the first time the prints of the man. He had left two large frogs still covered in mud. The frogs were frozen.

With sharp eyes she stared, and felt the temptation to follow the path left in the snow. She could follow him, and find out who he was. Just as she raised her foot to dash into the forest Mitgokaa called, “Bring those frogs here, and do not go running off.”

Later, if the wind did not pick up, Ziibi would be able to follow the tracks. The wind was an unpredictable entity and could erase the trail before she had the chance to sneak off. She picked up the two frozen frogs and took them to Mitgokaa.

The Mitigokaa’s eyes were kind. She smiled and the scar on her cheek curved into the shape of the moon. “You are a good girl. Now, tether your crane, it is time we went to the sugar camp.”

“Already?”

“Yes, breathe in the air.”

Ziibi did.

“Can you not smell the change?”

She had misjudged the timing. It had seemed near, but not now. Mitigokaa had not made the same mistake. In the sugar bush the maple trees waited knowing that their sap was about to rise. On the wind soft whispers came to her. The whispers be longed to he Maples. Their tree voices penetrated the air. Why had she not noticed this before?

Mitgokaa continued, “We must make repairs on the lodge before the others come we are the closest to it.”

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Ziibi went inside and packed her bedding and loaded it onto the pack board. As she packed her things, she came across the small drum that Wiinizik had given her. Surely by now she had had her baby. Had it been a boy or a girl? With one finger, Ziibi tapped the drum. It made a small hollow beat sound that echoed in the silence of the house. She shoved it into her pack and again and it spoke one single beat that did not echo.

Once she finished with her own packing, she took the sisters rolled up bedding and piled it on top of hers. The tether she had made for her crane, she slipped around his neck. He did not much like the tether, but he knew it meant they were going somewhere. He made a strange noise in his throat. Ziibi wondered if he too knew the seasons were changing and soon his people would return. Mitgokaa loaded her pack board with birch bark rolls to repair the walls of the sugar bush lodge, while Mitigomin carried sheets of cedar bark to repair the lodge’s roof. Each carried a bag of supplies around their neck and each had their medicine bags tied to their waists. Each bag was made from the full skin of a badger. Their empty skins had been sewn whole and were now body bloated with tools and medicines. Ziibi had her own badger skin, but her medicines were few as were her tools. Her badger was flat and thin. One day it would be full too, but that would take much time and experience. After putting on put on their snowshoes,they lifted their packs onto their backs and headed out across the fresh snow.

Wistfully Ziibi looked at the direction the man’s footprints had made in the snow. She would not see him again until next winter. When sugar-making time was over, they would return to the village.

Laden down, their snow shoed feet made large tracks. The crane minced along beside Ziibi until his feet grew too cold to walk. She held out her arms and he leapt into them. He was heavy. His plumage was beginning to change to that of a full adult. The ochre colored feathers were being replaced by silvered gray ones. His yellow eyes looked around him. They were as clear as two suns. A strange sense of joy stole through Ziibi. She sniffed the air. Spring was coming. Spring. The world would loose its white coat and be put on the soft greens and yellows of spring. For a while she walked in complete happiness. In time though, the combination of her pack, holding her crane in her arms and walking through the snow wearied her. The sisters unencumbered by a large bird walked swiftly ahead. The distance between Ziibi and the sisters was steadily increasing. Sudden anger flashed in Ziibi. The crane was big and heavy and she was tired of carrying him. She wished he could walk, no she wished he could fly. It was a temptation to throw him into the air and force him to test his wing, but it was one she resisted. The crane would know when and if he was ready to fly. She looked up, clouds scudded above the tree line. What would it be like to be able to soar above trees? Once her crane had done so. Would he do it again? Fiercely, she whispered, “Please remember to fly, you have wings, why don’t you use them?”

The crane merely turned his head toward her and blinked. He liked being carried. Stupid bird. The anger in Ziibi caused her to quicken her pace. She caught up to the sisters but did not speak to either of them. As they passed through a grove of white pines, Ziibi felt something inside of her twitch, an awareness she had never had before. A wordless voice seemed to cry out to her. She turned to the sound of it and saw a young pine tree. Its delicate branches were dusted with snow. She turned from it, but she felt the same inner pull again. The sisters kept walking. Ziibi took another step, but the little pine still begged for her attention. She turned and went to it. There was medicine in this tree’s bark, medicine that would be needed. When? The tree did not say. She put the crane down and pulled her stone knife from her badger pouch. With a deft movement of her wrists she sliced through the tough outer bark and pulled it back to reveal the inner bark. She cut a long thin slat of the inner bark and rolled it into a coil. After she put it and her knife away, she scooped up the crane and looked for the sisters. They had gotten far ahead of her again. Now drained of her anger, she followed. Would another tree speak to her, would another plant whisper of its healing property? Excitement filled her.