Once she has finished removing the blood on her hand, Ehawee waits rather quietly for a time, praying to the spirits for guidance and strength. As the hours wear on, she is left in the teepee by herself, and eventually, her attention returns to her hand. Now that the shock is wearing off, she's becoming more curious about it. She looks at the back of her hand where whatever it was that cut Kohana must have come from, looking for marks, cuts, any sign at all, but there doesn't look to be anything unusual.
Ehawee moves her right hand gradually closer to the fire, to see if anything happens. It feels warm. The closer she moves her hand, the warmer it feels. When her hand enters the fire, there is a brief moment of pain, and then the fire just feels warm. She wiggles her fingers in the flames, looking at her hand with fascination, trying to see if it looks any different now. Despite everything that's happened this day, there is a part of her that's starting to get excited about this. Once several minutes pass with no damage to her right hand, she tries the same slow approach to the fire with the left, the one that hasn't done anything unusual so far. The same thing happens. The hair on her forearm burns off, but the skin shows no signs of damage. She enjoys the novelty of this for a bit, picking up a red-hot piece of wood and tossing it from hand to hand. Then she looks around for something else to try.
After thinking for a minute or two, she pulls her hands out of the fire and tries making a small cut on the palm of her left hand with a knife. It stings at first, but the pain quickly fades and the cut heals itself before her eyes. She claps her hands together with delight at this. Then, after looking around to make sure that she's still alone, she looks at her hand and imagines the knuckles being sharper, trying to see if she can reproduce what must have happened at the river. After almost an hour of experimentation, she is able to grow curved bone spikes from the back of her knuckles. She becomes much more sober when she actually sees the spikes, picturing in her mind again the damage that they did to Kohana's face.
Feeling ashamed again of what she did, she tries to make the spikes disappear. Unfortunately, it looks like this will take just as long as making them appear. And the teepee is growing dark. She moves so that she is sitting facing the fire with her back to the teepee opening, and concentrates on making the spikes go away. She has reduced them by about 25% when she hears her father's voice behind her. "Ehawee. It is time."
She stands, clasping her left hand over her right so that it covers the spikes, then turns around. "Yes father," she says meekly.
Still looking like he's afraid, her father leads her to the long house, built only for the winter months and soon to be abandoned. Inside, the Council of Elders has formed. Kohana and Maka are there, along with her brothers and grandparents. Kohana is pale from loss of blood, and his face has been packed with mud and grasses to stop the bleeding.
"Step forward, Ehawee," Chief Wahkan says. "Tell us what has happened this day, that you would wound one of our braves so, and how."
Ehawee steps forward and looks down at the ground. "I cannot explain why, as I do not understand myself how it happened. I can only tell you what I remember." She is silent for a moment, thinking back to what now seems like a lifetime ago, then begins to relate her story. "I was doing my wash on the river. Maka joined me and saw fit to berate my skills. When I ignored her, she pushed me into the river. I pulled her in with me. She slapped me and berated me more, calling me worthless. When she continued to attack me, I dunked her in the river. She began screaming then. Kohana came and she ran to him, lying and claiming I had attacked her." Ehawee looks up at this point and glares at Maka, then looks back at the ground again and continues, "When I said she was lying, Kohana called me a barking dog. I said I'd rather be a barking dog than a viper like Maka. Then I went back to my wash, or I tried to. But Kohana would not leave me be. He jerked me to my feet, slapped me, then pushed me to the ground. I became angry at this, so I jumped up and pushed him back. I told him not to touch me, that he should not be striking me when his wife was at fault. He tried to hit me again, but I was ready this time and I avoided it. Then..." She looks up at Wahkan and there is real confusion on her face. "Then I'm not sure what happened. I remember wanting to strike him as he had struck me, but I told myself that I mustn't. That I would just avoid his blows. But then I saw an opening and my hand moved on its own. And then I heard that horrible noise and he was bleeding." She looks to Kohana. "I never meant for that to happen. I would undo it if I could. I know you do not believe me, but it is true."
"You know that it is not right for a woman to talk to a man so?" Wahkan asks.
Ehawee nods reluctantly. "Yes, although I do not understand why. It does not feel right that a woman cannot talk so to a man, but a man may talk so to a woman. That a man may insult me, and I can do nothing, save hope that another man may intervene."
Wahkan frowns. "You would question the ways of our ancestors after insulting a man and then scarring him for life? You are not a woman," Wahkan says sternly. The crowd gasps.
"Then what am I?" Ehawee asks curiously, keeping her voice respectful.
"I believe you to be of the spirit world. It is up to us to determine whether you are good, or evil. There is more evidence for evil right now. Will you consent to our tests, or will you be cast out from the tribe?"
"I will consent to your tests," she says without hesitation, trying to show no fear, although inside she's scared to death at the prospect of having to leave the tribe.
"First, Kohana must be compensated for his injuries. Since you still live in your father's teepee, all of his ponies will go to Kohana."
Ehawee's father stares at the ground. Without his ponies, he will not be able to hunt this summer.
"If the shamans determine that you are of flesh, you will be cut as Kohana has been cut. It is his wish that this be so."
The crowd gasps again. Such scars as those would most likely mean that no man would ever wed her. Still, the punishment is not horribly unusual. Kohana could have asked for her death....
Inwardly numb, Ehawee shows no outward reaction to any of this, merely waiting to see if that is all.
The chief nods to the corner of the lodge. Three wizened shamans step from the shadows. One is wearing an eagle hat, one a buffalo hat and the third a wolf hat. "Sit, Ehawee," the chief tells her. As she does so, the shamans begin to make pictures in the dirt around her. They begin to chant and a drum begins to beat.
Ehawee looks curiously at the pictures, trying to figure out what they're doing. She can tell it is magic of some sort, but what she doesn't know. Maybe it's similar to what the men do in the sweat lodges. Maybe it's similar to what the women do to ensure their men hunt well. She is sure that whatever magic they work, her future is in the balance.
When the drawings are done, the shamans add color to them with various ground powders. Their resonant chanting makes the drawings glow, adding eerie light to the lodge fire. Ehawee starts to feel very hot, and as the chanting continues, she begins to sweat profusely. This alarms her, but she tries to be brave and show no fear. She looks over towards her father and brothers, to remind herself why she's enduring this, and she prays really hard that she will pass. She sees that her father and brothers are staring at the ground in front of them. The sweat is now running off of her and the air is becoming hot, difficult to breath. It feels like her clothes are strangling her. She pulls at the neck of her dress a bit, trying to let in some air, and gasps for oxygen, wondering if the tests are going to kill her. Her right hand, the one with the spikes, begins to hurt horribly, and all of her discomfort begins to focus in that area. The pain is becoming more than she can bear. She grits her teeth and clutches her hand to her chest, desperately wishing the pain would go away. She can feel the spikes under the flesh of her other hand. Then the chanting stops, and she collapses, breathless, in the center of the circle. The air of the lodge is still.
Ehawee lies still for a long time, simply savoring the absence of pain. Then she carefully sits up again and looks around. She sees the wolf shaman standing right before her. "She is neither woman nor spirit," he says. "She is both and not powerful enough to fear."
"What say you to this, Ehawee?" the Chief asks.
Ehawee considers this. "I believe what he says is true. A woman could not do what I have done, but if I am a spirit, wouldn't I know? I'm not quite sure what I am. But I mean the tribe no harm."
The Chief nods. "I believe you, Ehawee. You have shown great courage, if not great wisdom. I see no need for banishment. Kohana, you may seek your payment."
"Deadwood"
Ehawee's Page |
Ehawee's Story
All text on this page is © 2000-2002 by Kris Fazzari.
Last modified on April 29, 2002 by Kris Fazzari.