With Waabooz there only one more family was expected. Waabooz said he had passed them on the way, and that they should be there tomorrow. Tomorrow the sugar making would begin. The trees would be tapped. The baskets would catch the moving sap. Ziibi could feel the rush upwards of the sap in her own body. The weather was turning to perfection. The sap would flow and there would be an abundance of sugar.Large stones had been stacked by the fires in the lodge.Along each side of the lodge were planks raised about a foot off the ground. These planks ran the length of both walls and were about three feet wide. On these planks were the sleeping robes and possessions of the families. Ziibi sat wrapped in her robes away from the fires that burned in the center of the lodge.She felt wary. Waabooz did not even try of hide his interest in her. His eyes were ever straying in her direction.His father seemed to be encouraging him with sly smiles. It made Ziibi uncomfortable.

Not only was Waabooz making her uncomfortable the odd feeling he stirred in her did not help. She did not like these feelings. They frightened her. Never had she feared loosing possession of herself, but tonight she did. It was as if, he were weaving some magic trap around her with each glance in her direction. She tore herself free of such thoughts, and stood. She would go outside and check on her crane. She knew his eyes followed her, but she ignored him.

Outside the sky was clear and the stars large between the branches of the maples. She hesitated for a moment, in that moment, the doorflap opened. She felt a hand encircle her wrist. It was like the loop of a snare. The hand did not press, it just held. She pulled it away. Waabooz did not speak, but he did not go inside. He followed her to the crane’s basket. While she tended to the bird, he stood silent. She could feel his eyes her. The crane looked up at the sky. Was this bird dreaming of flight? She hoped so. Waabooz moved a step closer to her. Quickly she covered the crane’s basket with a heavy robe. When she stood, Waabooz did not reach for her, but he followed he too closely. Though he was not speaking words aloud, every bit of him was speaking in a silent language that screamed for her attention. It took all her power not to respond.

That night, Mitigomin and Mitgokka put Ziibi between them. She had been sleeping further down the plank by herself. Tonight Mitigomin insisted, “You sleep here.” It had been in her Midewiwin voice which demanded obedience. Ziibi did as she was told. Later, when every one was asleep, or at least Ziibi thought everyone was asleep. She heard a rustling from the other side of the lodge. She opened one eye and watched Waabooz creep like a lynx across the floor. He was coming to her. How could he be so bold with his aunts so near? She closed her eyes. She would feign sleep no matter what he tried.

When he had almost reached her, the firm voice of Mitigomin hissed, “Back to bed with you. Ziibi is a Midewiwin in training and you will not molest her.”

Waabooz made an agitated noise in his throat. It was an angry sound, defiant in its inflection. Trouble had just been stirred. What would the outcome be? Ziibi heard him turn and go back to his own pallet.

*

The sap was rising swiftly as the sun warmed the day. As she worked among the trees tending the baskets and drips, she sometimes placed her hands on the maple trunks. Beneath the bark Ziibi could feel the flow surging upward from the roots. When a basket was full enough, she would take it into the lodge. Inside the lodge large stones were heated in a fire that ran through the center of the lodge. Beside the stones were baskets with sap. When the stones were hot enough the women would pick up the stones with cupped wooden paddles and place them in the baskets. This caused the sap to bubble so the sweetness would separate from the sap. At night, if it was cold enough to freeze, they would put shallow baskets full of sap outside. During the night the liquid would freeze. When it was frozen the ice would be skimmed off. This process was repeated until the sugar was separated. It fascinated Ziibi to participate in the sugar making process. Fire and ice both could draw sugar out of the sap. It was a continuing miracle to her.

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As Ziibi worked she was constantly aware of Waabooz when he was near. She felt his eyes, she could sense his intense interest in her. She kept her distance. Though neither of the sisters had said anything to her, she knew they did not want her to associate with this young man. Yet, each time he came into her periferal vision she could not help but glance in his direction. Often their eyes met. Each time they did, she felt herselfbeing drawn to him. She did not like the feeling and yet she found herself seeking out his eyes again.

Ziibi took another basket of sap into the lodge. He was there, by the fire. He looked up at her, and she met his gaze full on this time. Her mouth did not drop open as she stared at his lovely face. She kept herself steady, and the steadiness was hard to maintain. All at once she recognized a power in him. King. He was Midewiwin too. All at once she was aware of a the darkness of his power. There was something about the sheen in his eyes and his look that made her think of the Snake King. Her noko’s voice said in her memory, “What if the Snake King tricks you?”

She remembered her response, “He would not trick me. I would kill him.”

Vividly her grandmother’s face appeared in her mind. The anger and concern in her voice echoed her expression, “What if he hears your challenge, what if he seeks you out?”

The impression was so strong, Ziibi dropped her eyes. There was a darkness in Waabooz. A darkness that was calling her to find the darkness within herself. All power could be used for good or evil. Her father was good, the sisters were good, but this young man had touched in some way the bad. This knowing frightened her because of her attraction to it. Her noko had told her evil was often disguised in pretty wrappings. She poured the sap into a waiting basket and went back outside. His eyes followed her, but he did not.

She left the sugar bush and went to check on her crane. Waabibwan and some of her cousins were playing near the cage. She hated that the crane had to be kept like this. She missed the nearness of him at night. He had been a guarding spirit to her and filled the void the absence of Mikwam had left. Where was her spirit guide now? She looked around at the silent woods. What she would not give for a glimpse of him. She wanted, needed his protection. Waabooz was bad, and yet she wanted to be near him. Always she had been in possession of her own spirit. Now her spirit felt threathened. The flesh that encased her spirit was yearning for Waabooz. Why? What was this strangeness he stirred up inside of her?

The crane squawked at her. She went to his basket cage and took it off. There was a stream near by and she would take him there to fish for himself. When the children saw what she was doing, they tagged along. At the stream Ziibi put the young crane down. He looked at himself the sluggish water that flowed. A few fish swam. Instantly he was on them, scooping one up in his beak. All at once, with fish in his beak, the crane spread his wings and flew. Ziibi watched him top the trees. The sound of his wings were in her ears. How could he fly so suddenly? Bound to earth then free? Perhaps the confines of the cage had inspired him to try his wings. The crane continued to fly. Waabigwan cried, “He is getting away!”

“No,” Ziibi said, “He is reclaiming his freedom.” She watched him until she could see him no more.