“And who do you favor, little doll, your mother or your father?”
She giggled as if he were merely teasing her. His ways seemed less alien the more time she spent in his company, and they were only apart before the evening meal when he left her alone to make a fire while he scared up some dinner. Once each day, he made his toilet in the privacy of the deep woods, and each time that feral smell returned with him, as powerful an odor as that she had tried to wash away at the stream with her sister. How long ago it seemed to her. S’ee could not abide the man’s scent when he first came back to her, could not imagine how so sweet a man could smell so awful.
But at night she forgot about those momentary distractions. After their first sexual encounters, it was she who initiated their intimacies, crawling to his place when the embers ashed over, kissing his face and chest until he could no longer resist, and they would roll over and he would cover her back, huffing and panting, and she, her pleasure growing, would wait for that final exclamation, a roar of release that filled her with the sense that they were to be together this way for the rest of their lives. And as he lay beside her, S’ee pictured taking him home to meet her mother and sisters, her cousins, the whole clan and moiety. She could envision their faces, filled with wonder and jealousy over how she could have landed such a king salmon, for he was nothing short of a marvel, strong, handsome, a powerful spirit.
He led her through a gap between two mountains and stopped at the apex of a descending trail, shielding his eyes against the sun as he scanned the horizon. She leaned her head against his shoulder and could feel the excitement pulse through his skin. “There,” he said, pointing to a distant meadow carved in two by a winding river. “There is my clan.” Perhaps the sun blinded her or perhaps she knew not what to expect, but S’ee could make out nothing more than brown specks shuffling along the shores. But for his sake, she feigned excitement. It took all day to traverse the valley, and when they arrived under darkness, she could see no more than a few feet in front of her hands in the rising river mist. As they crept among what seemed like logs, she could hear their heaving snores and was careful not to disturb their sleep.
When they had found a place to be alone, he held her in his arms and said, “Don’t look up in the morning. At dawn, if you rise first, don’t look up among the people.”
I wonder why he says this to me, she thought, but after he made love with her, S’ee forgot, and lost in her dreams, she fell asleep and did not remember his warning. When she woke with the sun, she reached behind her for the man and her fingers touched fur. She rolled over to face him, but he looked just like a human being. Propping herself by the elbows, she rose to a sitting position and sought out the other people sleeping on the ground, but all around them were brown bears, dozing in the sunrise. She stood and pivoted on her toes, finding bears in every direction she looked. The man, when he put his hand on her shoulder, frightened her, but he was still a human being in her eyes.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said. “These are my brothers and sisters. They won’t hurt you. And even though you insulted me—and all bears—back in the woods with your sister, no harm will come to you. Despite your curses, I have fallen in love with you. I want you as my wife.”
“Gunalche’esh hó hó,” she said. Thank you very much. “Ax téix’katix’áayi i jeewu.” You have the key to my heart.
Next to me, the old man cleared his throat to commence another observation, but I hushed him with a curt gesture and a doleful glare.