Quoted By:
“Here we are. Remember that you are my responsibility white man, and I will see you through the evening if only to scalp you better with the morning light. Now, follow me.” You cross yourself, and follow him into the house.
The house is warm, hot even. There is a firepit in the center with an inhabiting fire, billowing smoke in a great gout up and out of the center of the roof. Even with most of it venturing upward, the remnant circling the room stings your eyes. You wipe away a tear and find about twenty men staring back at you. All look dressed in finer clothing and with finer jewelry than the average Maidu you’ve seen today. They stare at you with a bevy of expressions, from hateful, to scared, to curious, and you even spot a genuine smile from a gangly man near the back.
You assume that all twenty of them are chiefs from various villages, and that they are here to address the crisis of the ravens flocking at night. They all stare at you, unspeaking, but your gaze is drawn not to any of them, but to the man sitting down directly in front of the fire. This man is old, you’d guess almost eighty, and he has long since lost any of the fat and flesh that are not absolutely necessary to his body’s functioning. He sits with his legs crossed, his long, long white hair dragging along the brown reed rug. He wears an enormous cloak of white and gray feathers, owl feathers. The cloak makes him look even smaller, almost consumed.
He does not look up at you, staring instead into the fire. You stand at attention while Badger Tail speaks. You like to imagine that he is making your introduction like the Homerics, flashing-eyed, swift-footed, Campbell of the war cry perhaps. Your mind meanders only slightly, until you catch a glimpse of none other than Talons-on-the-tree in a dark and shadowed corner. He looks into the fire as well while Badger Tail drones on. He is…changed.
His five long braids are cut, his hair short and even almost like yours. Black paints runs under his eyes and on his cheeks like tears. His chest is bare and engraved with a black handprint on his left breast. He carries no ornaments, no herbs, and no shells on his body. You are sure he knows you are there, but he does not raise his eyes, he lets himself be taken in by the flickering orange.
Two braves approach from behind you and begin to take off your coat and your gun belt. You struggle a little, instinctively, but relax yourself as best you can. Badger Tail nods very deliberately at you, then at the braves behind you. They are gentle enough, and soon you are in your shirt and feeling more vulnerable than if you were completely nude. Finally, Sun-on-snow speaks his first words.