CHAPTER 23
Head Breaker
I TOOK A FEW STEPS down the slope toward the valley. Then I stopped. I needed to think about a few things. I still felt the sorrow in my heart that had pierced me like an arrow when I was rejected by Dojihla. However, the pain did not seem so great now. It was still with me, but it no longer clouded my vision nor slowed my steps. It was still pain, but it was no longer sharp.
That was good. That sharp pain had made me confused and uncertain. It is never good to be confused and uncertain when you are flying—walking, I mean, toward danger.
I sat down and Malsumsis sat beside me. I put my arm around him and he thumped his tail against the ground, making a sound like that of one of the drums the people of Valley Village had been playing at the feast to honor my victory. I had liked the sound of those drums and the singing they had been doing. It was not as good as owl singing, but it had not been bad. If you are ever going to be transformed into another creature, make sure it is a creature that sings. Life without song is not good at all.
I began to tap my hand against the ground, trying to remember the beat of those drums and the song they had been singing before Dojihla pulled off my headband. It was a song of friendship. The words came to me and I began to sing them softly.
“Wi gai wah neh, wi gai wah neh.”
The more I sang it, the more I liked that song. And it made me remember the warm feeling I had always held for those human beings. As foolish as they were at times, they were likeable creatures. I just wished, now that I had become one of them, that they liked and trusted me.
But there was nothing I could do about that now. Perhaps an idea would come to me later. The important thing was that I not just sit around and feel sorry for myself. I had set a task for myself. That was good. That task was going to be difficult and dangerous. That made it even better.
But I did not have to rush into it. I looked down into the wide valley again. What was waiting for me there? Was I prepared for it? I had dealt with treacherous creatures before when I was an owl, but how was I equipped now to deal with them as a human being? I needed to think about that.
I looked at myself. No wings. That meant I could not fly out of danger if I needed to do so. Nor could I drop heavy stones from high above. But I did have my bow and my arrows. My new hands felt comfortable with that bow and those arrows that had belonged to my great-grandfather. When I held them, it was as if I was holding his hands. It was also as if they were a part of me. I could use those arrows to strike any enemy from a safe distance.
My hands were good for other things too. I could hold things and throw them. I picked up a large rock, pulled my arm back, and hurled the stone as hard as I could. It sailed far away and dropped out of sight into the valley below. I would have to practice to throw accurately, but I could see that this skill would be of great help.
What other weapons did I have? I looked down. I no longer had talons on my feet that could rip and tear. My feet were good for running, but what else? Perhaps for kicking? Moose and deer use their feet very effectively that way. I had once seen a medium-sized doe use her feet to drive away a full-grown mountain lion when it tried to grab her fawn.
Kicking.
There was a dead cedar tree that stood about three times my height just down the slope from me. I sat back and picked up one of my feet to lift it up to my opposite knee. I was getting used to having knees that bent forward. I pulled off my moccasin and studied that foot. I now had not four toes, but five. They were not of equal size or able to move around to grasp anything. I used my fingers to bend those stiff, small toes backward and forward. If I bent too far, it hurt. They were not strong like my former toes had been. The nails on them were no use at all for fighting. If I struck these new toes against something hard, they would have no effect. They could not even pierce a mouse’s skin. But the bottom of my foot was different. It seemed to be tough and solid. It might work.
I put my moccasin back on and walked over to the tree. I gave it a push with my hand. It was rooted solidly into the stone and thin earth of the mountainside. It would be a good test for me. I stepped back, took a deep breath, lifted my knee up high, and then thrust my foot out to hit the trunk of that cedar as hard as I could.
THWACK!
Splinters flew as the tree broke off near its base, toppled, and rolled down the slope.
“Whoo-hoo-hooo,” I shouted in triumph. My foot tingled a bit, but was not hurt at all.
Kicking, I thought. Good weapon for me!
Malsumsis came leaping back up the hill. He had run down after the big dead cedar as it rolled, and he was now carrying one of its broken branches in his mouth. He dropped it at my feet.
I picked it up and threw it, and Malsumsis went springing after it, caught it on the first bounce, and came back to my feet again. This time, though, instead of dropping the branch, he nudged me with it. I took it more carefully from his teeth, held it up, and hefted it. It felt good in my hand. It was smooth and the length of my arm. It had broken off cleanly and one end was heavier and more rounded. I had seen the men of Valley Village carrying such branches. What was it they called them?
Baskodebahiganak. Head Breakers. That was it. Fighting clubs.
I grasped my fighting club by the narrow end and swung it back and forth a few times. It made a whistling sound as it cut through the air. Very good, indeed. Head Breaker. Another weapon. But as I swung it I realized I was forgetting something.
I walked over to what was left of the broken old cedar, put down my new club, and placed my hands on the base of the trunk.
“You have given me a gift,” I said to the tree. “I thank you for Head Breaker. I will carry it with me and use it well.”