Centuries of June

She shrugged her shoulders and brought their daughter to her breast. Grumbling at every step, he moved them higher up the mountain face and dug so furiously that she thought the whole hillside would come tumbling down. After their first night in the den, she snuck out early in the morning to rub her scent against the trees, and while the others slept, she made a bolus of clay and moss and spit, and rubbed it all over her skin, then rolled it down to the bottom of the mountain, knowing that, if they were looking for her, the dogs would find her scent among these pebbles and the men would figure out what she had done.

As it happens, as they must, the men of the village had been looking for her for three years. Every spring, her mother’s sons and nephews would prepare for the hunt. In the first year, the brothers reached only as far as the place where the bear and S’ee had camped on their first night, but they had not figured the spell of the herbs and leaves properly, so they had to turn back. In the second year, the brothers reached as far as the place where all the bears had slept by the river, but they had made weak medicine, and the spirit abandoned them again. But come April of the third year, the boys knew how to fast for eight days with no water, how to work the leaves and not go crazy, and how to carry the dogs to search not just for brown bear, but for their sister as well. For one month, they had allowed the dog named Chewing Ribs to sleep in S’ee’s old bed, among her clothes and treasures, so that he would carry her smell in his nose no matter how long the search might take.

Snows turned to the rains of spring, and the bear and his family watched from the dryness of the den. The babes crawled across the floor, harassing a field mouse, and in a corner S’ee chewed on a moose sinew to soften the leather, for she was planning on surprising her husband with new moccasins. All morning he sat at the opening trying to see how the seasons changed, and he startled her by breaking off his vigil and ambling over to her side. He sat next to her on a blanket sewn of rabbit skins, his arm looped over her shoulders.

“Restless?” she asked. “Winter’s almost over, so cheer up.”

“It will be the youngest one, I think. The youngest brother will kill me.”

She dropped the leather to her lap, cast a quick glance at their children, and asked, “What are you talking about?”

“I dreamt last night they are coming for me. Not a dream, but a vision. Your brothers are coming to kill me. The youngest one will shoot his arrow true. They are coming soon.”

“You must have eaten some bad roots to upset your stomach and give you such nightmares.”

“I love you, Dolly, even if you don’t still love me, but you must be brave and pay attention. Your brothers are coming, and I want you to do something for our children.”

Regret seized her suddenly. She moved to his side, but he did not look at her, so she circled behind him and wrapped her arms around his chest.

“Don’t be afraid,” he told her. “I will not kill my brothers-in-law. After they have filled me with their arrows, have them put a fire at my head and feet. Ask them for my skin and stretch it on four poles so that I can watch the sun come out from hiding each morning and send my spirit out each new day to protect my family.”

“You mustn’t speak such foolishness.” She kissed the back of his neck.

The afternoon’s wind blew strong and carried the smell of dog, and X’oots paced on the ledge in front of the den. He stood tall, then shuffled back to her. “Where are my knives?” he asked. “I need to put my knives in my mouth.” She understood this to mean he was to change into a bear, something he never did in her company during daylight. He would show them his teeth and claws. Thoughts of her brothers’ safety escaped from her mind, and he read them in the air.

“Don’t worry. I could kill them one by one. A slap to the face and they would tumble down dead, but I would not hurt the boys, Dolly, because that would hurt you, too. But where are my teeth? Perhaps I can scare them away?” He changed into a bear.

Below, the dogs snuffled through the spruce litter and the balls of earth and moss with her scent that she had rolled down the hill, and the man who followed the dogs shielded his eyes from the sun and searched for the opening to the den. Two brothers circled round to approach the bear from above the entrance, scrambling over the scree, and kicking stones like tiny avalanches. X’oots and S’ee could hear them coming through the ceiling.

“Remember …”

The other hunters clambered along the steep face, the dogs ahead on the scent, pausing with ears cocked for a sound. Chewing Ribs wagged his tail and roared toward the cave, oblivious of the grizzly, bounding between the great bear’s legs into S’ee’s arms. Concentrating on the approaching men, X’oots missed seeing the little dog entirely. S’ee hushed him, pushed his tongue and head away, and pinned him behind her back against the cave wall, wriggling, tail thumping a tattoo on her spine, but Chewing Ribs stilled when the bear peered into the darkness at the commotion. “Did one of their dogs come in?” X’oots asked.

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