Mikwam growled low in his throat. Ziibi looked in the direction her wolf was gazing. Ajijaak had returned. The birch bark canoe slid noiselessly through the water, barely making a ripple upon the surface of the river. The young man saw her, and Ziibi ducked behind the tree. Mikwam shook his coat and stared at her with his pale yellow eyes. His ears rotated toward the sound of the paddles upon the water. He whined. He was concerned, and Ziibi knew why. Ajijaak had failed in his vision quest. She knelt down beside her wolf and said, “Please do not let him do further injury to himself.”

The Mikwam shook his long coat. He was not Ajijaak’s wolf and he would not interfere with his life. Ziibi laid her brown hand on his silver fur. It was soft to the touch.

Noko called, “Ziibi, where are you? You did not sweep the house.”

Mikwam darted off into the woods. Ziibi sighed. She was not good at women’s work.

“Ambe!” shouted Noko.

Ziibi ran to the house, ducked inside before Noko could scold her and took up her balsam boom. With short quick movements she swept the loose debris off the hard packed dirt floor and then out the door flap. In the sun she sorted through debris. What ever she found she kept. There were a few loose grains of corn and three broken feathers. She would make a necklace of this.She took her treasures to where her sister sat beneath a slippery elm. The day was becoming warm. Miinan was sorting through her porcupine quills. She had little birch bark bowls filled with cut quills dyed different colors. With her thorn apple awl she was sewing them on a dress she had woven from false nettle. Weaving such fine fabric from her crude elm loom was an admired art. Ziibi knew some of the girls were very jealous of Miinan’s skill. She was not jealous, she was proud of her sister.

In the shade of the house, Noko separated long strips of the inner bark from the outer bark of the basswood tree. From this supple fiber she would make twine. Twine was one of the most important things a woman made. It bound every thing from houses to the bodies of the dead. It was an important skill and one that Ziibi’s young fingers struggled with, fortunately, this morning, Noko did not ask her to help her make twine. So Ziibi sat cross-legged on a basswood mat and spread out her find.

The bright yellow of the corn contrasted nicely with the spotted jay feathers. With an awl she had made from the thighbone of a muskrat, she carefully drilled holes through the kernels and then she pierced each feather. Last she took a bit of false nettle thread and strung her necklace together. When Miinan saw it she said, “It is the color of the sky.”

Always the sky with her. To Ziibi it was the color of Mikwam’s yellow wolf eyes and bluish silver fur, but she did not say this.

When Noko went to fetch more strips of basswood, Miinan whispered, “Has he come back?”

Ziibi hissed, “Why do you want to know?”

Miinan smiled her superior smile at her. “So he is back.”

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She nodded.

“How did he look?”

This was a question Ziibi would not answer.

The smile left Miinan’s lips. “Was he alright?”

He was not, but Ziibi would not tell her sister this. Her sister might feel compelled to check on Ajijaak, and he would be humiliated in her presence. A simple yes would keep this from happening, but Ziibi would not lie. Lies brought bad medicine and a daughter of the Mide was especially susceptible if they practiced lies. She did not know what to do or say. In her confusion she communicated more to her sister than she intended.

Miinan frowned. Ziibi was instantly aware; her sister was already plotting some mission of mercy. Well, she would not perform it, at least not before Ziibi performed hers. She snatched up her necklace and went to Ajijaak’s home. She knew where the loose birch bark was that Ajijaak used to go in and out out the back of his home. He seldom used the front door flap. Noiselessly Ziibi slipped through the secret entrance. She saw Ajijaak was lying on his furs. His eyes were closed. By the slow in take and out take of breath, Ziibi knew he was sleeping. He did not know she was there, but his noko did. Her blind eyes held Ziibi in their unseeing gaze. She had lost her sight shortly after Ajijaak’s voice had been stolen. Where had Ajijaak’s voice gone and who had taken his noko’s sight? The old woman sniffed the air. In her mouth was a folded wad of thin birch bark. She was a bark biter. She raised her hand to halt Ziibi’s flight. Her strong teeth rounded the bark. Her teeth were stained and sharp. They bruised the birch bark to make designs of flowers and birds. Her chewing fascinated Ziibi. Barkbiters had a special kind of magic. They held patterns in their heads and their teeth magically made the pattern on the bark. Ziibi did not know how they did it.

Ajijaak’s noko took the bark out of her mouth. In a low voice she said, “Ambe.”

Ziibi crept to her side. The old woman carefully unfolded the thin birch bark revealing the picture of a crane standing in a river with rice stalks on either side. This woman was famous for her bark biting and not even the bad reputation of her dead son had diminished her fame. She offered the transparency to Ziibi. This was a tremendous gift, one that Ziibi had not even hoped to possess.

This noko said, “Be careful my girl. You are too quick to act. You must think before you begin. A start too soon is a false start and can bring harm. Keep this as a remembrance to check your haste.”

“Thank you Noko.”

“Now go child.”

Before she left she placed the necklace she had meant to give to Ajijaak in his grandmother’s hands. The older woman fingered the kernels and the feathers. She pointed in Ajijaak’s direction and said, “When he is restored I will give this to my grandson. But you must not come through his secret door again. The others will talk, and you will do him much harm.”

“I will obey.”

“Good girl. Now off with you.”

Ziibi hesitated. Which exit did the old woman want her to use.

Ajijaak’s noko said, “Out the back, for the last time.”

Ziibi slipped outside. She walked a little way out into the trees to be alone, but not too far. It was dangerous to go to far when Mikwam was not with her. She held her birch bark transparency up to the sun. The bite marks would grow darker with time and the pattern would become more distinct. It was beautiful. She pulled it gently to her chest and hugged it. Mother would not be pleased by this gift and neither would her father, but they would not know, she would take it to her secret place.

Her secret place was in a hollowed out white cedar. It was just big enough for her to fit inside. It was here in a clay box that she kept her treasures. She had a lock of Ajijaak’s hair, that she had stolen one night while he slept. She wondered if his Noko knew about this. There were also shells she had found on the beach, butterfly wings and feathers of different birds. She called them her beautiful things. With careful fingers she laid her birch bark transparency on the pile. This was more than just a picture, it was a prophecy. She did not know what it meant but she was sure it had been no accident that a design that represented a crane and a river should have come into the noko’s mind. Ajijaak was the crane and Ziibi was the river. Her name meant river. She had been given this name by her father at her naming ceremony.

In the distance she heard Noko calling out for her again. “Ziibi Ambe, it is time to roast the fish.”

With one finger Ziibi traced the figure of the crane. How could she soothe Ajijaak’s wounded pride? Did she have the power to do so? If she did not, what then? What would happen to him if he never dreamed? With this dark thought she placed a carved birch bark lid over the mouth of her clay pot.

“Ziibi! Now!”

“Coming Noko!”