Light followed darkness. Ajijaak’s mother came, his noko came. He saw Ziibi’s father Mikinak. In an out of his feverish dreams Ziibi moved and breathed. He was vaguely aware of his son. An infection raged in his body. He had strange dreams and battled huge bears. The Snake King came to him, and Ziibi slashed the king to bits with her awl. Ajijaak felt like he was already walking the Path of Souls and he prayed he was. He needed to get to Wiinizik, he needed to find her to make sure she had made it safely to eternity, but he could not find her. Waabooz was often there taunting him, telling him intimate details about his woman, the woman they had shared. When he dreamed these dreams he often croaked his awful croak. It was an ugly sound and he was immediately ashamed of the noise he had made. Sometimes when it was very dark, and the house was silent, a man would come to him. The man had a familiar voice, a voice he had heard in a dream or a memory long since passed. He encouraged Ajijaak to fight for his life, to win. Ajijaak’s son needed his father, the way he had needed a father. It was hard for Ajijaak’s feverish mind to latch onto this responsibility. He was consumed with worry over Wiinizik. Had she crossed safely into the Land of Souls? Had she been permitted to live in eternal peace? Female voices, the voices of Wiinizik’s aunt and cousins spoke of her as if she were some filthy creature. His heart would not believe that she had stopped loving him. He needed to find her or find a way to secure eternity for her. Until these last months she had brought him joy and love like he had never known in this life and he wanted to do the same for her in the next, but how? How?
*
Ziibi sat beside Ajijaak. Her hand rested on his feverish brow. The blade of Waabooz knife had been soaked in snake venom. Waabooz had not been found. Disgraced his parents and siblings left the village. Because of her unfaithfulness, Wiinzik’s family would not bury her in the family grave. She had acted without honor. She had broken her partnership with Ajijaak. She was taken to a place unknown. Ziibi fretted over the girl. She knew how persuasive Waabooz could be. Wiinzik, was a lonely girl, trapped on an island. Ziibi could still remember Wiinzik’s eager eyes, and her hunger for conversation. She also remember how proudly she had spoken of her man and her obvious love for Ajijaak had radiated in her eyes. The strange poison that sometime effected some women after birth had taken hold in Wiinzik. Wabooz, snake that he was had taken advantage of her. It grieved Ziibi. She should have stopped them, cried out, broken Waabooz’s spell. Would all be different now if she had? In her desperation would Wiinzik have listened to her? Ziibi would never know. The past once done could not be undone. All she could do now was do her best to keep Ajijaak in this life to raise his child.
The yet to be named baby slept on the pallet near by. His face was not at peace. Someone was missing from his life. No longer did he know the safety and comfort of his mother’s arms and milk. Like was incredibly cruel. One selfish, jealous, evil man had taken what was not his and broken this family. The thought of Waabooz filled her mouth with bitterness. Many times he had almost caught her up in his charms, but always her heart had whispered or shouted a single word, no.
Ajijaak croaked in his sleep. He was passing through another nightmare. His breathing was fast and his legs twitched as if he were running. Beneath Ziibi’s hand his forehead was so hot. The fever would not leave him. The sisters had dozed him some new concoction on him. Ziibi knew it would not work. Their power was thwarted in this case because they were blood relatives of the one who had inflicted the wounds.
Ziibi glanced out the open door flap. The sky was the fire red of late evening. A cool breeze wrapped around her exhausted body.. Mitigomin told her, “Go, take a walk. You need a rest from this vigil.
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Ziibi removed her hand from Ajijaak’s forehead. She did not want to leave him, but she must. To take care of him, she must take care of herself. She slipped outside. Perplexed and distracted she wandered down the trail. As she passed an open space she saw the heads of strange flowers bending in the wind. The wind caught the voice of the flowers that whispered to her. They spoke to her softly of Ajijaak as she neared them. “Waabooz sheathed his knife in venom,” they said. “We can pull the venom out of Ajijaak’s wounds. To do this, we must die for Ajijaak, but we are willing. He is a good man and we want his dance and the echo of his drums to continue.” As gently as she could, Ziibi pulled up the flowers, roots and all and put them in her medicine bag. They did not cry out or complain. They surrendered to their destiny. When all the flowers were in her bag, they seemed to sigh, then pass into the land of souls. They did not speak to her again. She would meet them one day as she expected to meet all creatures and plants who gave their lives for the good of other living beings. From her medicine bag she took an offering of tobacco and sprinkled it where the flowers had lived.
She did not go back to house where Ajijaak lay feverish. She went to his drum house. A drum vibrated when she entered the house. It was the medicine drum that he had made. She sensed the power of the instrument. If any voice could draw him back to the living then this one could.
*
The next evening, after the sun had slipped behind the trees. Ziibi tested the flowers. They had dried at an amazing speed in their eagerness to heal Ajijaak. She took them inside to the fire. The sisters were feeding the baby. From time to time the child would glance at his still father. He did not much care for the rice water teat the sisters had made from a moose bladder, but he still nursed it. Once again he was looking for his mother, he did not know what had become of her.
Silently Ziibi prayed as she took the flowers to the fire and pulled the stone pestle and bowl from her medicine bag. The sisters did not question her as she prepared her medicine. They let her be. Grinding the withered flowers into a fine powder she added a bit of ash to the concoction as a binder. The medicine would need the power of fire to work its healing. When she was done, she diluted a small amount with fermented blueberry juice. This she would ladle into Ajijaak’s mouth.
The sisters continued to watch her as she removed the bandages they had applied earlier. The pus was still oozing from the wounds, and they were swollen and ugly. With gentle fingers, Ziibi dabbed on the medicine she had made. From time to time Ajijaak winced in pain or groaned. When the paste was over every wound, she did not replace the bandages.This medicine needed air to work. She took a wooden spoon and slowly fed Ajijaak the medicine. When she finished she told the sisters, “Please take the baby to his great uncle’s house.”
The sisters did not question her. They did as they were told. Ziibi so caught up in her quest for Ajijaak’s life did not recognize the honor or the respect they were showing her by their obedience. When they were gone, Ziibi went to the drum house and took the medicine drum that had called to her. She looked at the various mallets and sticks Ajijaak had fashioned to play his drums. Which mallet went with this drum. There was a fat one whose tip was covered with beaver suede. This suede had most likely softened by Wiinizik’s teeth. It was the right one.
Ziibi went back to the house. She did not know how to play the drum, but the drum did not need her knowledge. It possessed its own power and only needed to be given its own voice to work its magic. And so she began to beat a slow and steady rhythm and then the sound of the drum became that of beating wings. Huge wings like the wings of many cranes flying across the night sky. All the people in the village heard and were quieted by the sound. Power, good power was being drawn into the village. Could this power cleanse the village of the blood and shame that had been spilled upon it?
Ziibi played and played until her thoughts swam in her head, until the fire burned low and put itself out, and still the wings beat. The night grew very dark and sleepiness began to press down upon her. She fought it as long as she could and then she slipped into the land of dreams.