The White Mountains and the Silver Spear

Felix was the only one of Nayundiie’s family who couldn’t smile as little Tlodihil drew his first breath and cried. A part of him knew he should be excited to welcome this infant into his life as his new baby brother, but he wasn't. He’d never spoken a word during the birth and slipped out when he was sure no one was looking.

Nayundiie found him upon a high cliff side overlooking the Coyote village about an hour later, as he had many times before. They kept their gaze on the city of tents below, the old brave speaking first. “What troubles you, Migganlaiae?”

He still would not answer to that name.

Felix explained after a long pause, a sharp gust tossing his long fiery red hair. He was not a Coyote, a man of the White Mountains. He was the son of his Mexican mother and his Irish father, the parents the Pine Apache had stolen him from before trading him to Nayundiie. He wasn’t even sure if his mother was alive. In fact, he was sure she was dead. And these Coyote, he explained, could never truly replace her.

“Perhaps we can not,” Nayundiie admitted. “But if your old family really is gone, perhaps Usen has given you a new one. A new life.”

Felix thought about this before grabbing a scarlet strand of his hair. “I am not Indeh.”

Nayundiie placed a wrinkled hand on his shoulder. “You are my son. Your test of manhood draws near. You may not feel as one of us yet, but after that you truly will be.”

Felix wondered if this ceremony would erase who he was, erase his mother. No, he wouldn’t find out. Leaving was the only option he could stomach. Nayundiie didn’t address the subject for the remainder of the week.

The test arrived faster than he anticipated.

The Coyote People believed the bears of the White Mountains carried the spirits of their ancestors with them and as such they were not hunted as other animals were. They claimed the ones that did attack the people were possessed by an evil spirit and were to be hunted down with a heavy heart. After the beast was slain, a ceremony was held in which every person was to dance with its pelt all throughout the night. Even possessed creatures were treated with reverence and respect.

Outside the village lived an outcast that had always intrigued Felix. He was the greatest bear hunter of the Coyote and proved it by donning their hides as cloaks over his scarred hulking body. It was said that he was cursed because of his affinity for the hunt and that he was locked in a one man war against the spirit world and would not stop until he’d fully avenged the family they’d taken from him. Even if that meant spearing the hearts of innocent bears.

He was Bodaway and he was feared by all.

When Felix had gone with Giannattah to scout ahead of the hunting party, the mangled bodies they’d found were no victims of an “innocent bear.” They’d also been the very last bodies either had wanted to find.

“Gouyen! Alopay!” Giannattah cried, crouching down beside them and grasping a tiny hand that clutched a long strand of beaded jewelry. Tears ran down the tracker’s face as Felix slid from the back of the horse, unable to take his gaze from the grisly scene.

The bodies were unrecognizable, flesh tattered and torn, deep red claw marks covering every inch of the young girl and her mother. When Felix saw their chests were torn open and hollow, he tore his eyes away, shivering all over. Giannattah had been the first friend he’d made here, an outcast and a half breed that was seen as lesser by the others. He’d been the one to teach Felix how to hunt, how to speak the Indeh language, and how to track. He often said his family was the only real achievement he’d accomplished.

Felix saw that someone was riding toward them in the night, a huge bulging man atop a black stallion, wearing a bear pelt around his broad shoulders. Giannattah stood up, regarding him with gleaming eyes as he slipped his knife from his sheath.

“You!” He yelled, approaching the dismounting bear hunter. “You’ve done this! Your quest to avenge your family has taken mine from me!”

Giannattah slashed at Bodaway, before the hunter’s lightning hand seized his wrist. The huge man looked deep into his eyes and spoke. “Bear scattered hunting party and killed many. We must return to village and evacuate, before more of our people fall.” He looked over the smaller man’s shoulder, a look of pain in his eyes as he beheld the mangled corpses behind Felix. “You have my condolences.”

He let Giannattah’s arm fall away before swinging his leg over his mount. “Hurry!” He yelled. “We are all that stands in its way!” The stallion tore off and vanished into the shadows from which it came. Giannattah stood before Felix, his head hanging from his narrow shoulders as his knife dangled by his side.

Felix looked at him before turning back to Gouyen and Alopay, their blood soaking into the sand beneath their ruined bodies. More like them would follow. He could leave now and perhaps no one would blame him. Would anyone even know the truth? Would they assume that he was among the dead of the hunting party? Was this his chance to escape his captors and return home? Return to his mother? He narrowed his eyes on the little girl’s delicate little hand, the hand Giannattah had been holding as he wept.

“Come, Giannattah,” Felix said, pulling himself onto the tracker’s horse and holding out his hand. “I will take us back.” The tracker eyed his hand for a moment before grasping it. He took one last look at his family before sliding into the saddle behind Felix.

The horse shot up the incline they’d taken to enter the valley until it reached the ridge where Chief Hashkedasila’s hunting party was supposed to meet them. What they found was the mutilated cadavers of at least a dozen horses and riders; their guts spilled from their stomachs; their skin clawed to ribbons and their bones shattered and snapped. Felix stopped to search for Nayundiie among the bodies before riding on, feeling like enough time had been wasted.

The moon’s face was full and white and made the pale valley glimmer like snow and the lingering dust clouds sparkle like stars on a clear night. The horse thundered across the stony floor as Felix prayed under his breath to God, Usen, or anyone that would listen, begging that they would make it before the bear did. 

It wasn’t until Felix saw the peaks of teepees rising over the stony horizon that a long earth shattering roar unlike anything he’d ever heard washed over him. He’d heard a bear’s roar before and knew that whatever it was he was hearing now was no damn bear. The bellow had been so visceral that it pitted his stomach and threw his heart into a frenzy. He didn’t know how far the monster was behind him, but he refused to look back, urging his horse to pick up its speed.

When Felix reached the village threshold, Bodaway was there, bellowing orders for the surrounding villagers to flee, the tip of his silver headed spear glimmering as he twirled it above his head. The women, children, and elders were in a frenzy, grabbing whatever they could carry before throwing themselves on the back of a horse and riding to the rendezvous that had been established should the village ever come under attack. 

The young man dismounted just as other warriors arrived from the hunting party to urge evacuees away from the village. He bound past Bodaway who was now pushing people away and towards horses, barking orders.

“Fire Head.” The young man turned in time to catch the bear hunter’s silver tipped spear. “Aim for the heart.”

Felix left Giannattah in the saddle, the tracker looking as if he had no clue of the chaos surrounding him. He reached the center of the camp, weaving in and out of the manic crowds and through narrow teepee alleys until he reached Nayundiie’s hut and charged through the orifice.

The old man turned to face him upon entering, Baby Tlohildil asleep in his arms, wrapped in cloth. His wife stood behind him, eyes wide with fear. There was a crudely wrapped wound on his forearm and the side of his head was caked with blood, his right ear hanging on by a strand of flesh.

“Migganlaiae!” Nayundiie said, tears reaching his eyes. “We thought the bear had taken you!”

“Not yet!” Felix said, ushering them out the orifice with a firm hand. “But if we don’t leave now it will.”

Felix led them out to Nayundiie’s brown spotted steed, blankets and packs under their arms. The next roar was so close it made his ribs quake. He turned around and caught a look of it. At the perimeter, the beast rose up on its hind legs, standing above even the tallest hut in the village. Its fur was a dark grayish hue, like that of billowing thunder clouds, and was caked with blood and gleaming chunks of gore. Its face resembled that of a bear, save for the horrific scars and the two sets of jaws lined with gleaming sharp teeth and dripping with blood. Its body was covered with spear wounds and littered with the protruding shafts of arrows and lances. Several riders rode around it, whooping like mad coyotes and stabbing it with lances to draw the beast's attention away from the evacuating village.

“Migganlaiae!” Nayundiie called from the saddle, holding out his hand. “Come with us.”

“I cannot,” Felix said, tightening his grip around the shaft of his spear. “I have to hold it off.”

“This battle is lost, you cannot win!”

“No, but I can distract him long enough to let you get away.” Nayundiie shook his head and started to protest. “Please.”

Nayundiie held his gaze before looking down at the baby in his arms. “You are my son, Migganlaiae.”

Migganlaiae smiled. “You are my father.” He struck the steed on the rear and watched it shoot away before a loud crash drew his eye.

The bear was plowing a horse and rider through a teepee a hundred or so feet away before pouncing on both of them, the horse’s ribs snapping under its weight as it clawed its side open. The steed’s scream was choked off as the bear's huge quad-jawed mouth clasped around its neck and bit down. The rider crawled away, pulling his crushed leg from beneath his mount as the bear scooped the animal’s insides clean with its huge claws and shook its head with its jaw locked on tight. Bodies were scattered across the outskirts, torn to shreds.

Migganlaiae shot forward before falling to his knees and gliding across the ground. Tossing the lance into his left hand, he stooped down and wrapped his arm around the fallen brave, hand locked in the man’s armpit as he stood up against his weight. The brave tried getting his left leg under him, his right failing to respond. The young man couldn’t wait and began dragging him away, looking over his shoulder to see the horse's head was now completely gone. The bear was swallowing it, slurping down its spinal column. And now it was looking at them, its eyes black as coals with irises like a deep violet mist.

“C’mon!” Migganlaiae cried, pulling his comrade. “Help me!”

The broken brave didn’t have the strength to help and Migganlaiae felt his bones quake as the beast roared. He pulled with all his strength, not even sure which direction he was trying to go. He just knew he had to get away and that he could never outrun the beast barreling down on him, its huge crashing feet quivering the earth. 

Migganlaiae cursed under his breath and sent the rider rolling across the ground with a sharp shove before spinning on his heels, stretching out the sharp silver tip of his lance. The edge caught the beast’s snout as it lunged forward, splitting the flesh open and dragging a scarlet trench across it. The monster roared and fell back a few steps, tossing its head around as if it could shake the pain away.

The young man’s eyes fell on the gleaming point of his weapon, the outer edge now lined with red. The arrows and lances of the other warriors failed to bring so much as a whimper from the fiend and yet one swipe of this had sent it reeling. The bear growled and straightened up, blood leaking from its snout as it glared with its black and violet eyes. 

Migganlaiae took a deep breath, gripped his lance with both hands, spread his legs, and thrust the point forward, falling into the stance as he’d been taught. The bear rose to its feet, towering form blanketing him in shadow as its roar thundered from its huge belly, all four jaws coiling out. The young man stood firm as it crashed back on all fours and charged, claws ravaging the stony ground with every viscous stride.

The beast was an arm's length away when an arrow pierced its neck with a thump. The monster turned with a growl before Migganlaiae’s gaze followed. Giannattah was standing a hundred feet away, his eyes red with tears as he strung another arrow up and let it fly. The monster winced as it glanced off its thick skull before tearing away, bearing down on the tracker so fast Migganlaiae’s spear could only thrust through the air behind it.

Giannattah lowered his weapon as he met the young man’s gaze. He closed his eyes and held out his arms, ready to meet the cold embrace of death. Migganlaiae’s loud pleas fell on deaf ears.

The tracker didn’t scream as the bear crushed his body, its mouth latching around his head as its claws peeled the flesh from his chest. Migganlaiae fell to his knees as his friend's arms quivered, a gleam from a beaded necklace in his right hand, covered in blood.

Bodaway roared as he lept through the air and slammed on the bear's back, jabbing his silver knife between its shoulder blades. The beast growled and stood as the hulking warrior pulled himself up, locking his huge legs around its broad stomach as the beast threw itself into a nearby teepee back first. Bodaway didn’t let go.

The bear killer wrapped one of his arms around its neck, ripped his blade free, and jammed it into its shoulder as the beast began to jump around like an angry bull and crashed into another teepee. This time, Bodaway’s grip was not so strong. After rolling free of the timber and fabric, the bear was on top of the mighty hunter, the knife still buried in its flesh. It came down on his chest, Migganlaiae in shock that he didn’t hear the loud crack of ribs as he had heard from the others. 

Bodaway raised his arm over his face just before the bear bit down on it, dragging its claws across his chest just as he reached up with a growl and gripped his silver knife, twisting it in the wound. The bear’s jaws released as the feeling of that blessed knife burned it down to its bones.

“Now, Fire Head!” Bodaway cried. “Kill it!”

Migganlaiae took one last look at Giannattah’s ravaged face, skull crushed in on the right and left side, and charged with tears streaming down his eyes as he released a war cry. The war cry of a Coyote.

…

When Migganlaiae had finished dancing with the pelt of his kill, all he could see in his mind was Giannattah’s remains and those of his family. He failed to understand why he should show this bear respect at all and was suddenly sick to his stomach. 

He looked around and saw Bodaway standing on the outskirts of the village, scared face lit by the raging bonfire. The deep wound in his chest was healing now and didn't seem to bother him.

“So,” he said to the hunter. “Where will you go now?”

“Where I have always been, Fire Head. My war never ends.”

“You’re down an arm.”

Bodaway looked down at his dead right arm, wrapped in bloodied cloth before smiling.

“Then I fight with the other.”

They stared out at the fire and the cluster of dancing howling people, the flickering rays shining through the spear torn holes in the pelt.

“I understand why now. Why you fight them.”

Bodaway gave a slow nod. “Then you understand why you must protect this,” he said, gesturing to the Coyote people with his good arm.

Migganlaiae smiled. “I do.”

“Do a better job than I did. These people don’t know it yet, but the days of Y’iiettsoh are coming and soon, my war will be the war of every man. Do you understand?”

Migganlaiae sighed. “No, I still don’t understand all of this. I understand that bear was no bear at all and the only refuge we have lies at the point of a silver blade.”     

Bodaway pulled his silver knife from his belt and held it out to the young warrior, its edge glimmering in the fire light. “That’s a good start.”

The young warrior hesitated before taking the knife.

“Keep your eyes open, Fire Head,” Bodaway said, patting him on the back. “The bear was only the beginning.”

And with that Bodaway turned and disappeared into the night. Migganlaiae wasn’t sure if he’d ever see him again, but he took one look at the knife before slipping it into his belt.