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Running Crane and
it’d gone better than she expected. A meadowlark sang her trill and
her dream came back to haunt her. The young maiden had seemed so
familiar…didn’t she look a lot like Nah’ah …only younger?
    A twig snapped and Summer froze in place. She
looked around, searching the dark edges. A large, pine tree branch
waved as though blowing in the wind. There wasn’t even a
breeze.
    Could Jordan’s killer have found them
already? Who would know they were here? Her father wouldn’t have
told anyone…so who did that leave? Did Nah’ah tell…crap…she
would have told all her friends, people at church, and just about
anyone who’d ask. It wouldn’t have occurred to her to be
discrete.
    Summer hurried, spotting her grandmother
kneeling and digging a hole in the ground near the exterior
campfire.
    “What on earth are you doing, Nah’ah ?”
    “I’m so glad you finished your visit with Nato’sin . I want to show you how to make a great feast with
duck eggs.”
    “You gathered duck eggs? When did you do
that?”
    “Didn’t you spot the nest just off the shore
near the reeds?”
    Summer couldn’t help being impressed with Nah’ah . She missed nothing going on around her. Did she know
they could be in danger? “Why did you dig a hole? Aren’t you going
to scramble them or make an omelet?” Nah’ah’s scowl told her
immediately that wasn’t the case.
    “Take that bladder and pour some water in
this hole,” she instructed.
    Summer didn’t argue. After a quick look
around, she poured a small amount into the cavity. “Now what?”
    “See those sticks piled to the side? About
two inches above the water I want you to make a platform with them.
We’ll be putting the eggs on them. Now I want you to dig a small
hole next to mine, but make sure you slant it into the bottom of
the first hole.”
    “Really? We’re going through all this work
and you could get the same results if you just boiled them in
water.”
    “We’ll see. That looks good. Now after you
put the eggs on the platform I want you to make a tighter platform
above the eggs. Very good, Niipo . Now mix some water and
dirt and make mud to cover the top platform.”
    Summer wanted to say how ridiculous this
whole thing was, but refrained. “I’ve always loved making mud
patties.” She laughed and noticed Nah’ah enjoyed the
comment. Summer couldn’t help feeling bad she’d been cranky and
temperamental.
    “Okay, now you can inch those hot campfire
rocks over to the small hole and let them roll down into the water
of the larger hole.”
    “I get it. The hot rocks will heat up the
water and steam the eggs. It’s primitive but rather clever. I
didn’t think the old ones ate eggs.”
    “This is the only time of year our people eat
fowl eggs. They would never eat turtles, frogs, or lizards because
they are creatures of evil. The Crees, Gros Ventres, Sioux, and
even Assinaboines eat dog, but our people never eat them. We
believe dogs are our true friend. Napi’kwan says he is our
friend, but they turn against us. Our dogs are always true.”
    “I’m going to have to agree with you on that
one, Nah’ah . I hope my ancestors didn’t eat snake.” Summer
shivered from the thought.
    “No, they would never eat snake. They would
not eat grasshoppers, worms, or other insects either. I heard
stories that the napi’kwan wasn’t much of a hunter and at
times would eat insects and snakes. Most times the white trapper
would be spotted not by sight, but by smell.”
    Summer laughed. “You made that up, didn’t
you?”
    Nah’ah shook her head. “No, it is
true. It was said they smelled as bad, and sometimes worse, than
the stinky bear.”
    “I have to admit, the smell of cooking eggs
is making my stomach growl. You cook them in the ground like my
grandmother?”
    Summer noticed Running Crane attempted to
appear relaxed and cordial. He fell short with both. His continual
scanning of their surroundings seemed somewhat excessive.