TWENTY-SEVEN
Morgan could hear Eli flop onto his bed. He’d wanted to stay in Askí, she knew that, but the allure of an actual bed must have trumped that desire. At least for now. Truth be told, in the end, Morgan hadn’t wanted to leave either, but at the same time, she knew they would go back, and so she enjoyed flopping onto her own bed too. It felt like a luxury, not unlike the time, they’d had pimíhkán early on in their journey, or wapos, rabbit, near the end of it. Sleeping on the ground in their hut was like jerky and broth; sleeping on a bed was like freshly caught wapos.
It was just before six o’clock in the morning, which meant that she didn’t have to get up for a little under an hour. James usually woke up at a quarter to seven. Neither she nor Eli had slept last night in the North Country, and any amount of rest would do.
She closed her eyes.
At first, her mind flooded with memories of her time on Askí. The images that came to her, one after the other, were like a lullaby. Even the bad memories—like the wolf dragging Eli out of the hut—presented themselves as steps on a journey. A journey that had led them to saving Misewa, and all of Askí. Okay, Ochek had done the main saving, but she and Eli had played their parts as well, and that was something. She had the tobacco tie in her left palm as proof of their involvement. Of their importance.
Eventually, as the blue glow of the early morning rested over Morgan’s body, those images, those memories gave way to a rhythm, like the beat of a drum. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Morgan’s ear was pressed against the pillow, and she realized that it was her heartbeat. Not pounding out of her chest. Not jackhammering from fear. But beating calmly, methodically. She focused on the rhythm, and as she did, another scene played in her mind of its own accord.
Morgan was walking through a field of deep, untouched snow, in the middle of the night. In the middle of nowhere, out on the land, the night was the blackest black. It was all around her, in all directions, except ahead. There, a square of light shone. She was walking towards it. Lifting her knees up over the surface of the snow, stepping forward, over and over again. Each time she pressed her foot into the snow, a crunching sound rang out through the otherwise quiet space. The crunching sound, no matter how fast she tried to walk, was always in time with the rhythm of the drum, with the beat of her heart.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
As she came closer to the square of light, Morgan became aware that it was a window at the center of a small house. A bungalow. The house was at the tree line of a wooded area. Soon, the gentle light stretched towards her, over the snow, like a path, and she followed it all the way to the window. She could see a bedroom through the window. There was a lamp on a side table, and a rocking chair. A woman was sitting in the rocking chair and using the chair as intended, rocking back and forth with a child in her arms.
A young girl no older than three.
Morgan reached forward, as though she could touch them from outside the window, standing knee-deep in the snow. Her fingertips pressed against the cold glass, and she was inside the room. The crunching gave way to her actual heartbeat.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
She was in the middle of the room, facing the rocking chair. Her mother was in the chair. Her mother’s arms were empty. Her mother was crying and whispering one word, over and over, to the rhythm of the drum.
“Kiskisitotaso, kiskisitotaso, kiskisitotaso, kiskis—”
“I haven’t,” Morgan whispered. “I haven’t forgotten myself.”
Her mother gasped. She’d been looking towards the door, but looked away from it now, looked up, to Morgan. She stood, and Morgan and her mother were face-to-face.
“I did, maybe,” Morgan said, “but I’ve found myself again.”
“My girl,” her mother whispered, tears streaming down her cheek, curling over her lips. “My girl. Kisakihitan.”
“I love you too,” Morgan said. She tasted salt water against her tongue.
Her tears mirrored her mother’s, as if somehow they were on the same path, if only right now.
Her mother reached towards Morgan, and Morgan did the same. As soon as their fingertips touched, Morgan felt the same pull she’d felt the first time she’d arrived in the North Country. She felt the pull, then she was pulled away, as though in a vehicle going at light speed. She woke up in her bed, her arm outstretched towards the bedroom window, the tobacco tie clutched in her hand.
When Morgan arrived at the breakfast table after taking her time getting ready for the day, she found James, Katie, and Eli were already there. Their plates were in front of them, but untouched. They were waiting for her. James had prepared a meal exactly like the one he’d made yesterday—over a week ago to Morgan, and even longer for Eli—but the food had not been constructed into faces.
“You look tired,” Katie said.
“Yeah.” Morgan sat down, ready to dig in to her food.
As soon as she sat down, Eli started in on his meal. Morgan couldn’t help but notice the look of relief on the faces of Katie and James.
“Were you guys up all night?” James asked. “Eli looks just about as rough.”
“We were hanging out,” Morgan said, and her eyes met those of a smiling Eli.
“That’s awesome you two are getting along,” Katie said.
“He’s growing on me.” Morgan started to eat. Within seconds she was half-finished. She hadn’t noticed how hungry she was until she had a plate of bacon, eggs, and hash browns in front of her.
“Breathe, Morgan!” James laughed.
But Eli was shoveling food into his mouth just as quickly. She couldn’t help but imagine the animal beings in Misewa right then, how they’d be able to eat a big meal now. Their meat racks would be full, like their bellies. They’d have fat under their fur, not just skin and bones. By now, it had been over an hour since they’d left. That meant Misewa had been without her and Eli for at least a week. She couldn’t wait to see how different things would be when they went back. The day was going to pass slowly. It would be agonizing. By the time Katie and James were asleep, it would be almost fifteen hours from now.
Months in Misewa.
“You wore your moccasins,” Katie said.
Morgan looked down at her feet, where, in fact, she was still wearing the black moccasins. To Katie, Morgan had only had them for less than a day. But, oh, the places she had traveled in them. Through blizzards, forests, over canyons and mountains, across the Barren Grounds. They looked months old. Thankfully, Katie didn’t seem to notice how dirty and worn they were. She was probably just so happy to see Morgan wear them that those little details escaped her.
“I did,” Morgan said. “They’re great.”
Katie looked to be holding back her emotions, seeing Morgan wear her two-month anniversary present. “You can wear those to school too, you know,” Katie said, gathering herself. “Even walking to school.”
“Really?” Morgan glanced at Eli and winked at her brother. “I totally didn’t know you could go on long walks in these things.”
“Well, school isn’t that far,” James said. “But maybe you could test them out and see how they hold up?”
“Maybe I could,” Morgan said, then she and Eli broke into laughter.