“Someone like our father. Yeikoo.shk’.”
Each girl fell silent at the mention of his name, as speaking of so foolish a man might disturb his spirit. Birdsong and the humming of insects relieved the silence. Far off Chewing Ribs barked at a passing curiosity, and had they been attuned to the other world rather than to their own emotions, they would have heard an ursine shuffling at the head of the trail.
“What was he like? Besides strong and stupid?”
Shax’saani glared at her and munched a handful of salmonberries. “Not stupid. He had charm. He would sing, and mother would swoon. How do you think we are five sisters and five brothers? Every time they heard that singing, the brothers and sisters watched for the furs and blankets to rustle, and if you counted the moons from the night of the song, you would only have to count nine months. And there you were, last time, little doll baby.”
“So he was a great lover, but not so wise.”
“Headstrong. Determined. When his father died, he stayed up three weeks straight to carve the totem. He would set his mind on a task, and it was done as he wished.”
S’ee picked up her basket. “Like our brothers. Prideful.” She was speaking not only of her natural brothers, but of her aunt and uncle’s sons, the brothers of the clan.
Her sister rose and straightened her skirts. “Like us all.”
They continued to forage, searching for the telltale flash of crimson or yellow among the green leaves, not paying any attention to where they were walking, when S’ee stepped, barefoot, in an unmistakable softness. From the smell of it, the pile was fresh and ripe with berries.
“Bearshit,” she screamed. “Stupid stinking bears. Why do they have to take a dump right where people are walking?” She scraped her foot on fallen pine needles and sank to the ground. “Do they think they own the world? Bearshit, wherever and whenever.” Snapping some leaves from a raspberry bush, she swiped at the excrement and swore under her breath. “Don’t you know there are people here?” S’ee shouted, and her voice echoed through the trees.
Clamping a hand over her baby sister’s mouth, Shax’saani grunted for silence, scanning the forest for any movement and listening for the slightest sound. “You have no sense, Dolly. What if the bear should hear you?”
“I hope he does,” she shouted. “Then maybe he won’t shit where people might step.”
“Some respect, okay? It’s their world, too.” Struck by the moment, she giggled and said, “Come on, sister, we’ll find some water to wash off your stink, or our mother will think I’ve brought home a sow.”
“Who are you calling a sow, you fat, lazy bear?”
They ran off hand in hand to a stream, pulled off their clothes, and jumped in the cool water. Gnats circled in crazy clouds above their heads, and the sunlight shone in radiant waves across the rippling water. The two dogs came crashing through the brush, barking and yapping at the girls. From the bank, they whimpered and paced impatiently, not daring to jump in. Shax’saani yelled at them to scat, and S’ee splashed handfuls of water at the mutts until they gamboled away. Moments later, the leaves stirred again and S’ee thought the dogs had returned. But when the branches parted, she shrieked at the figure approaching out of the greenness, as if emerging from her dreams into the bright northern day.
“Cover yourself,” she called to her sister, and they dipped in unison until the water rose to their waists.
The man strode to the edge and showed his empty hands in greeting. He paused to consider them, as if he could not find his tongue or was perhaps fearful that speech might break the spell. The sisters watched him watching them, and he was a fine, handsome man. Young and naked to the waist as they were, his skin darkened by the sun, and his features carved like a totem. He did not seem of this world, not Tlingit at all, nor of any tribe they had encountered in their travels or those from inland who had chanced upon Hoonah. S’ee looked into his eyes and, for the first time, felt her heart betray her mind.
“Don’t be afraid, sisters. I heard laughter and splashing in the water and only came to see what fun I was missing.”
Shax’saani scolded him. “You’ve seen what there is to see, now go. On your way. We are not your sisters.”
“Aren’t we all children of the earth? How is it that you bathe so early in the day?”
Before she could be stopped, S’ee trumpeted her explanation. “My feet were dirty, and you know why? Stupid bear doesn’t know to leave the trail to take a dump.” She stood, water dripping from her body, and held out her foot so the man could better see where she had stepped.
“A clean foot now, and beautiful. What is your name?”
“I am called S’ee.”
“Come with me, little doll, for there is something I want to show you about that bear.”