I remember the East Wind was howling, pushing Maatakssi and his brother Siinatssi across the great water on a skin boat. They were coming to the place of the People, they were coming to our lands. This I remember: on a skin boat they came, fleeing the wrath of Old Man, for what I do not know. The People were not here, then, but these were their lands.
I remember the wind and the raging water. I remember the fear of Maatakssi and Siinatssi, who were sure their skin boat would sink beneath the dark sea. They cried and prayed to the Above Ones for succor; they cried and prayed to Old Man for forgiveness. “Let us come home,” they cried, “take us from these waters.”
Old Man turned his ears from his sons and instead the brothers came to this place, battered and wet, tired and sore. They pulled their boat to shore and kissed the land; they gave thanks to the Above Ones for saving them even as they cursed Old Man for abandoning them. I remember this too.
But some say Old Man did not turn his ears from his sons Maatakssi and Siinatssi at all, that he himself came to the lands of the People, in another form, searching for his lost children. Some say that he made the People his new children when he could not find his lost sons. The old women say this is not so, but some say it is true.
Maatakssi and Siinatssi came to the lands of the People then, and, for a time, it was good. Game was plentiful and the weather still. They talked to Raven in the trees and Beaver in his lodge. Particularly, at that time, they reverenced Siyakohah, Black Bear, who reminded them of the place from which they had come.
For a time, yes, it was good, but Maatakssi and Siinatssi became lonely, for they were the only two in the lands of the People, and the brothers longed for wives. They asked Siyakohah where they could find wives to give them sons and daughters, but Black Bear did not know, nor did Beaver in his lodge. Raven, though, had seen many places in his travels.
“I have seen a people,” he said, “east along the great river. They are traders from the north lands. Maybe they will have wives for you.”
“Are their women strong?” asked Siinatssi.
“Are they beautiful?” asked Maatakssi.
Raven shrugged. “Truly, it is difficult for me to tell you two-leg walkers apart, but look east. Now, I myself must get back to my own wives, who will be missing me.” And with that he flew off.
Maatakssi and Siinatssi headed east along the gorge of the great river. They decided to race, that the first to reach the northern traders would have first choosing of their women. They ran, racing towards their new wives. Maatakssi was the faster and took a great lead, but he lacked the stamina of his brother Siinatssi, who gradually made up the distance between them. Neck and neck they were for a long time, but Maatakssi’s strength started to fade, and his brother pulled ahead. Sure that he would lose the race, Maatakssi became full of anger, from which he suffered at times, and struck his brother before Siinatssi could outdistance him, driving the point of his spear into Siinatssi’s hipbone.
Siinatssi fell, and hit his head on a stone. The life fled from him, seeking the Other Lands, and his brother Maatakssi wept.
“Father,” he cried, “I have murdered your son.”
The Above Ones heard Maatakssi’s cries and saw his tears. They came down to the gorge of the great river and said to Maatakssi, “Lay your brother to rest in the proper way, so that his spirit can go free to the Other Lands. When this is done, you will be given one boon, for easing your brother’s spirit, but you must also be given one punishment, for releasing it before its time. Do not worry, Maatakssi,” they said, “you will always be beloved of the Above Ones, if you reverence us in the proper way. We will watch over you, in this life and the next and the next. You will find wives and have many sons and daughters to carry your name. You will live many years. This we promise.”
Sharp-eyed Raven saw this pass from his perch atop a tall pine, where he could look across all of the land and see its workings. He saw the smile of the Above Ones and felt a grief, knowing that mischief was afoot. He was a wise bird, and knew the nature of those people.
Maatakssi wept, but did as he was told, placing Siinatssi’s head to the east and saying words over him. Precious things he gave his brother to ease the journey, and Maatakssi cut his own hair and sliced his arms in his grief. “Goodbye, my brother,” he said. “Would that I could take your place. Would that my own place had been taken by a better man, so that things had not passed this way.”
The Above Ones saw that Maatakssi had done well, and eased his grief. They led him to his new wives, who gave him many sons and daughters. Maatakssi lived many, many years, as the Above Ones had promised, surrounded by his sons and sons’ sons, his daughters and daughters’ daughters.
But first, the Above Ones gave Maatakssi, the murderer of his brother, one boon and one punishment, as they had promised they would do.
The old women say that these things were one and the same.