said, tapping his chest.
Yellow Feather laughed. “Fe. Licks,” she repeated.
“Maisie,” Maisie said.
“Maize?” Yellow Feather asked.
“Well, Maisie.”
“Hmph,” Yellow Feather said, and motioned for them to follow.
“Maize is corn,” Felix told Maisie, grinning. “She thinks you’re named after corn for some reason.”
“I know what maize is,” Maisie grumbled.
Now she could see that the tepees were enormous hides wrapped around tall wooden poles, painted brightly with scenes of buffalo hunts or men on horseback fighting with bows and arrows. Smoke rose from the center of the village, and the smell of meat cooking reminded Maisie that she hadn’t eaten since Bitsy Beal’s party the night before.
Yellow Feather pointed again, this time to the men returning with the buffalo. Horses thundered across the plains in the distance.
“No girls allowed to hunt,” Yellow Feather said angrily.
She put her hands on her hips and watched, scowling, as the men grew closer.
“Only men,” she added.
Felix caught up with Maisie and Yellow Feather.
“Will you eat all that buffalo meat?” he asked as he took in the sight of all the dead animals the men were bringing into the village.
Yellow Feather looked at him as if he had just said the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard. Once again she motioned for Maisie and Felix to follow her. This time she led them to a tepee where one of the dead buffalo had already been deposited.
She kneeled beside it and gently touched its stomach.
“Pot to cook in,” she said. “Or to carry water.”
Yellow Feather ran her hands along its hair. “Rope,” she said. “And belts. And beneath,” she added, pointing to the ribs, “we make sleds from these.”
Then she touched the strong muscles on its back. She held up an imaginary bow. “Strong,” she said, and Maisie and Felix both nodded, understandingthat somehow the muscle could be used to make the string of the bow.
“And this,” Yellow Feather continued, miming sewing.
“Thread,” Felix said.
“Yes,” Yellow Feather said. “Thread.”
She lifted the animal’s leg and pointed to its bone there. Once again she mimed sewing.
“A needle?” Maisie offered.
“Needle,” Yellow Feather said, nodding. “And used as tools. And to paint our clothes and tepees.”
Still on her knees, she moved up to the buffalo’s head. It was hard for Felix to still watch with the buffalo’s tongue jutting out and its eyes glazed and staring back at him. But Yellow Feather grew even more animated, and he forced himself to pay attention to her.
“Very special,” she said solemnly as she poked the purple tongue. “For ceremony.”
Maisie nodded, even though she was only watching out of the corner of her eye.
Now Yellow Feather knocked on the horns. She mimicked eating and drinking.
“Spoons,” Maisie said.
“Cups,” Felix added.
Yellow Feather beamed up at them. She scurried down to the other end of the buffalo. Relieved to not have to look at its face anymore, Felix and Maisie followed her. She lifted something dried on its back legs.
“Make fire,” she said.
Maisie scrunched up her face. “That’s poop,” she whispered to Felix.
“Most important,” Yellow Feather was saying. “Hides. For tepees. For blankets. For clothes. For drums. For food.”
She got to her feet, looking angry again.
“You waste buffalo,” she said, pointing now at Maisie and Felix.
“No, no,” Felix said quickly. “We recycle everything.”
Yellow Feather frowned at him.
“We don’t even hunt buffalo where we come from,” Maisie said.
Yellow Feather considered this.
“You come from Washington, DC?” she asked finally.
“Near there,” Felix said. “No buffalo.”
“I don’t trust white settlers,” she said. “But we always share our food, our tepee.” She seemed to be deciding what she should do.
Felix tried to think of what to say. The truth was, she shouldn’t trust them. He knew the
Yellow Feather laughed. “Fe. Licks,” she repeated.
“Maisie,” Maisie said.
“Maize?” Yellow Feather asked.
“Well, Maisie.”
“Hmph,” Yellow Feather said, and motioned for them to follow.
“Maize is corn,” Felix told Maisie, grinning. “She thinks you’re named after corn for some reason.”
“I know what maize is,” Maisie grumbled.
Now she could see that the tepees were enormous hides wrapped around tall wooden poles, painted brightly with scenes of buffalo hunts or men on horseback fighting with bows and arrows. Smoke rose from the center of the village, and the smell of meat cooking reminded Maisie that she hadn’t eaten since Bitsy Beal’s party the night before.
Yellow Feather pointed again, this time to the men returning with the buffalo. Horses thundered across the plains in the distance.
“No girls allowed to hunt,” Yellow Feather said angrily.
She put her hands on her hips and watched, scowling, as the men grew closer.
“Only men,” she added.
Felix caught up with Maisie and Yellow Feather.
“Will you eat all that buffalo meat?” he asked as he took in the sight of all the dead animals the men were bringing into the village.
Yellow Feather looked at him as if he had just said the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard. Once again she motioned for Maisie and Felix to follow her. This time she led them to a tepee where one of the dead buffalo had already been deposited.
She kneeled beside it and gently touched its stomach.
“Pot to cook in,” she said. “Or to carry water.”
Yellow Feather ran her hands along its hair. “Rope,” she said. “And belts. And beneath,” she added, pointing to the ribs, “we make sleds from these.”
Then she touched the strong muscles on its back. She held up an imaginary bow. “Strong,” she said, and Maisie and Felix both nodded, understandingthat somehow the muscle could be used to make the string of the bow.
“And this,” Yellow Feather continued, miming sewing.
“Thread,” Felix said.
“Yes,” Yellow Feather said. “Thread.”
She lifted the animal’s leg and pointed to its bone there. Once again she mimed sewing.
“A needle?” Maisie offered.
“Needle,” Yellow Feather said, nodding. “And used as tools. And to paint our clothes and tepees.”
Still on her knees, she moved up to the buffalo’s head. It was hard for Felix to still watch with the buffalo’s tongue jutting out and its eyes glazed and staring back at him. But Yellow Feather grew even more animated, and he forced himself to pay attention to her.
“Very special,” she said solemnly as she poked the purple tongue. “For ceremony.”
Maisie nodded, even though she was only watching out of the corner of her eye.
Now Yellow Feather knocked on the horns. She mimicked eating and drinking.
“Spoons,” Maisie said.
“Cups,” Felix added.
Yellow Feather beamed up at them. She scurried down to the other end of the buffalo. Relieved to not have to look at its face anymore, Felix and Maisie followed her. She lifted something dried on its back legs.
“Make fire,” she said.
Maisie scrunched up her face. “That’s poop,” she whispered to Felix.
“Most important,” Yellow Feather was saying. “Hides. For tepees. For blankets. For clothes. For drums. For food.”
She got to her feet, looking angry again.
“You waste buffalo,” she said, pointing now at Maisie and Felix.
“No, no,” Felix said quickly. “We recycle everything.”
Yellow Feather frowned at him.
“We don’t even hunt buffalo where we come from,” Maisie said.
Yellow Feather considered this.
“You come from Washington, DC?” she asked finally.
“Near there,” Felix said. “No buffalo.”
“I don’t trust white settlers,” she said. “But we always share our food, our tepee.” She seemed to be deciding what she should do.
Felix tried to think of what to say. The truth was, she shouldn’t trust them. He knew the
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