beside his aronan. Then he turned to Kesbe and spread his palms as if to say that he would not harm her while she slept.
Again she yawned, knuckling her eyes. Somehow such weariness seemed an injustice, especially when in the presence of fascinating visitors. Kesbe’s last waking reflection was that the world was full of such injustices.
Haliksa’i.
This is how it is.
This is he who sits in the strange tent-house of the woman-spirit while she sleeps.
This is he who tells his story, though to no other ears hut his own. This is he who wants to understand. The way to understanding is the telling of stories, so say the wise ones oj Tuwayhoima.
Apinu’i.
I-am-I, called Imiya by my people, the Pai Yinaye. I will bear another name when I am born into life as a man from the mother-dark of the kiva.
The kiva has held me since the Season of Flowers. It is now the Season of Rain. I have learned much of the things sacred to my people. I entered as a boy, still clinging to the hand of my uncle, for my mother and father have gone to the spirits. I no longer will cling to the hand of my uncle when I emerge into the new life.
I have learned in recent days that there is something else I must give up as well. It has not come from my teacher in the kiva, but from watching my friend Nyentiwakay. He is older than I and has gone through the ceremony of adulthood. He went with his aronan to the place where the ceremony is given. When he returned, his aronan did not return with him. I have not seen it since that day.
The same has happened to other youths, yet they do not sorrow or speak about what has happened. Their feet always touch the ground now and they cannot see the shimmer of light on an aronan’s wings. Could it be that they did not love their flier as I do Wind Laughing?
Sahacat, the shaman who teaches me, says that this change is something I must accept without Question. She will not tell me what will become of Wind Laughing when I go to the place of ceremony. I cannot have that knowledge yet, she says. I am afraid that Wind Laughing will die.
I have no choice. If I were to turn from the ceremony of adulthood, I would bring disgrace upon my family. My father was a rain-priest. He would be shamed by a son who could not put aside the life of a child-warrior to take up that of a man.
Sahacat knows the disquiet that troubles me. Perhaps this is why she has sent me out on pilgrimage to seek visions of the spirits. It may he the last journey I make on Wind Laughing.
When I left my village, I flew far. I searched, but I found only the empty spaces of the canyon. The thunderstorm came, singing with a great voice. A howling came from within the clouds. I saw a creature not in any of the legends of my people. It bore strange stiff wings. It seemed blind, for it wandered in the air and nearly struck a rock-spire.
I flew up with Wind Laughing, taking no heed of the storm. Within the head of the flying-beast, I saw a woman. I flew close and reached out to her. Though she must be a kachina to have come with the thunder, she was afraid because her sky-beast was blind and falling. I did not want the creature to fall, so I led it to a place where it could come down. It did such a wild noisy dance when it landed that I was frightened. I got off Wind Laughing and hid. Wind Laughing was bad and did not hide. It thought the great flier was another kind of aronan. It flew to the beast and tried to make friends.
The woman-spirit did not like Wind Laughing dancing on her creature’s head. She made her creature roar and try to hurt Wind Laughing. When she saw me, she stopped. She tore a hole in her creature’s side and came out. She helped me turn Wind Laughing over. She tried to speak to me, though she knows little of my tongue. When it rained, she let me come into a strange lodge beneath the wing of her creature.
Is she a kachina? She wears no mask. She has the face of a woman of my village, though there is a sharper, harder quality in
Again she yawned, knuckling her eyes. Somehow such weariness seemed an injustice, especially when in the presence of fascinating visitors. Kesbe’s last waking reflection was that the world was full of such injustices.
Haliksa’i.
This is how it is.
This is he who sits in the strange tent-house of the woman-spirit while she sleeps.
This is he who tells his story, though to no other ears hut his own. This is he who wants to understand. The way to understanding is the telling of stories, so say the wise ones oj Tuwayhoima.
Apinu’i.
I-am-I, called Imiya by my people, the Pai Yinaye. I will bear another name when I am born into life as a man from the mother-dark of the kiva.
The kiva has held me since the Season of Flowers. It is now the Season of Rain. I have learned much of the things sacred to my people. I entered as a boy, still clinging to the hand of my uncle, for my mother and father have gone to the spirits. I no longer will cling to the hand of my uncle when I emerge into the new life.
I have learned in recent days that there is something else I must give up as well. It has not come from my teacher in the kiva, but from watching my friend Nyentiwakay. He is older than I and has gone through the ceremony of adulthood. He went with his aronan to the place where the ceremony is given. When he returned, his aronan did not return with him. I have not seen it since that day.
The same has happened to other youths, yet they do not sorrow or speak about what has happened. Their feet always touch the ground now and they cannot see the shimmer of light on an aronan’s wings. Could it be that they did not love their flier as I do Wind Laughing?
Sahacat, the shaman who teaches me, says that this change is something I must accept without Question. She will not tell me what will become of Wind Laughing when I go to the place of ceremony. I cannot have that knowledge yet, she says. I am afraid that Wind Laughing will die.
I have no choice. If I were to turn from the ceremony of adulthood, I would bring disgrace upon my family. My father was a rain-priest. He would be shamed by a son who could not put aside the life of a child-warrior to take up that of a man.
Sahacat knows the disquiet that troubles me. Perhaps this is why she has sent me out on pilgrimage to seek visions of the spirits. It may he the last journey I make on Wind Laughing.
When I left my village, I flew far. I searched, but I found only the empty spaces of the canyon. The thunderstorm came, singing with a great voice. A howling came from within the clouds. I saw a creature not in any of the legends of my people. It bore strange stiff wings. It seemed blind, for it wandered in the air and nearly struck a rock-spire.
I flew up with Wind Laughing, taking no heed of the storm. Within the head of the flying-beast, I saw a woman. I flew close and reached out to her. Though she must be a kachina to have come with the thunder, she was afraid because her sky-beast was blind and falling. I did not want the creature to fall, so I led it to a place where it could come down. It did such a wild noisy dance when it landed that I was frightened. I got off Wind Laughing and hid. Wind Laughing was bad and did not hide. It thought the great flier was another kind of aronan. It flew to the beast and tried to make friends.
The woman-spirit did not like Wind Laughing dancing on her creature’s head. She made her creature roar and try to hurt Wind Laughing. When she saw me, she stopped. She tore a hole in her creature’s side and came out. She helped me turn Wind Laughing over. She tried to speak to me, though she knows little of my tongue. When it rained, she let me come into a strange lodge beneath the wing of her creature.
Is she a kachina? She wears no mask. She has the face of a woman of my village, though there is a sharper, harder quality in
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