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Many moons after the birth of the Wanati spirit beings onto the lands of the original people, they dispersed rapidly before the Creator could really achieve to teach her people of these beings. While they remained an oppressed, scattered, ununified family clan of trickster spirits..the damage definitely had been done as many dispersed to all the people of turtle island. The Clown people they became known to the Zuni and Pueblo nations of the deserts..the Wanati people effecting the mighty Sioux, Cheyenne and Blackfoot nations on the plains..even reaching to the far east known as the Moon people to the grand Iroquois confederacy. Regardless of tribal interpretations, origin stories, and appearances they portrayed to the people they encountered and effected...they were all linked to the same damned purpose..their curse to be as of a wolf, a coyote, a spider..and a colored painted man of black and white. With their females they had entrapped..often turning into Naatoyitapiksi's themselves or becoming Deer Women, the female equivalent race of immortal trickster beings. They created underground, secret systems of family, spirit-being nations within places people could never see. Within the deepest corridors of mountain caves and in untravelable parts of the Rockies. Though most traveled alone in sovereignty of others of their kind. They drowned themselves in loneliness and eternal pain, but it was better "hunting" this way of mortals.
In these "old" days before Europeans invaded and the sacred hoop was broken..the Wanagi beings were a very powerful race of spirits and shape-shifters, gaining numbers quickly as they tricked so many into the curse of loneliness and immortality...the Vampire and Lycan plague of the Americas it seemed.
Our story begins, with a very small boy. Deep in the Indigenous continent of North America, lived a powerful confederacy of nations called the Niitsitapi.."the real people". In this confederacy existed the Amsskaapiipikani, the " The South Peigan", Aapatohsipiikani, the "The North Peigan", Kainai, "The Blood People", the Siksika, "The Blackfeet People", and smaller nations under their protection including the Sarsi and T'suu T'siina nations. The Niitsitapi were a powerful and fierce people, creating no outside allies with other nations and fought everyone around them..holding firm dominant control of the northern Platte.
In a small camp, no smaller nor bigger than most winter camps, lived Spotted Tail's clan of North Peigan Blackfeet. It was the snow moons of 1797, in the conifer mountain winter camps of the Rockies..where the Great Niitsitapi nation split to live in solitude within the mountains to escape harsh prairie blizzards. It was a time of peace, of rest for the warriors to finally uncoil their anger and hunt stray inii (buffalo) who also disbanded into small groups in the winter. Their winter coats, being at their toughest and thickest, were gathered to make strong, impenetrable war shields for the summer war parties.
But it was a time of boredom, of unrest, for the children, for the boys and girls. Often too cold outside or the snow too thick to play in..they were often forced to be kept in their family lodges to be entertained by weary, exhausted grandmothers. In one of these lodges lived two large families. They were wealthy and respected because both husbands were dominant leaders of the Painted Horn society..a society best known to the Peigan for their vigilance and bravery in battle against the Apsaroka (Crow), Nez Perce and Shoshone, as well as a long lineage of seemingly immortal-to-pain Sun Dancers. In this lodge, lived a solitary boy, named Black Weasel.
Black Weasel played with other boys but often loved to paint and draw with sticks in the ground. He was often scolded for not paying attention, for he had no interest in normal boy things such as knives and bows. Though regardless the boy lived his young childhood, in support of his artitsic grandfather who helped keep the Winter Count and in much frustration of his parents. On a cold day in the winter camp, Black Weasel set out by himself into the snow covered firs of the mountains. He was fascinated by the stillness of winter, as he accepted and learned it was her way to keep things still. It seemed nature hated movement in these times, and done much in her power to instill silence and unwavering structures in the land. He always seemed to seek something but never knew what in this silence. He found often many tracks of animals, evidence of dragging travois of meat carriers back to camp and Niitsitapi feet planted into paths in the thinnest parts of the snow. With his long boy braids and thick buffalo-calf hide wrapped around him, he explored.
Upon exploring the thick pines, he climbed upon rocks, whiping the snow away then cursing its coldness to his hands, retreating closed fists into his hide with tight shut eyes, exclaiming "shii.." in reaction to the cold. He climbed upon the rock and sat legs dangling, gathering twigs and breaking them..making small lodges with them as he recreated a pretend village in the snow..singing songs to himself at times but mostly enjoyed the silence.
He stopped his song at the sound of traveling feet. The snow crunched under an approaching creature..seemingly with two feet. His little boy eyes scanned all around as he sat listening for more. He pinpointed the location as he watched on a small hill with thick trees..watching a man pass through behind them,,seeing only glimpses as it passed through the tiny spaces of the powerful thick trunks. He watched silently..catching glimpses of a man wrapped in a large buffalo hide, with large eagle feathers standing upright and other directions. It appeared the man had a topknot or society pompadour with a bright white crusted paint on his forehead....until the man disappeared behind the hill and into the forest and rocks more. Bravely, but in fear, little Black Weasel called out.
"Pohsaapota...Pohsaapota!" -- "Come here!" cried the boy repeatedly, only hearing the echo dully travel to the trees, to be ended short of their echoing lifespan..trapped it seemed in the thick evergreen branches and inche sof snow piled upon them. Though the feet stopped moving he heard, but could not see the man. Surely the man would have responded by now, especially if he was now listening.
"Pohsaapota...pinaattaatsiskasita!" -- "Come here, do not fool around!" commanded the boy. Though the only response was a restarting rhythm of footsteps crunching in the snow, growing faster and faster in speed as it seemed to be attempting to escape the area. Black Weasel then assumed possibly it was a Crow spy. Only a Crow would care enough to spy and attack and winter camp, especially Spotted Tail's. He ran to the hill fast, tripping in the thick snow and the ends of his hide. Yelling out.
"Amohksi'natsiassikaan! Amohksi'natsiassikaan!" -- "Red Blanket!" he called repeatedly for his father. Hiding behind the thick trees and panting as he crashed his weight into the trunks, fearfully peering through the spaces of them looking for the man. His long braids covered in snow swung back and forth, being his only movement aside from his misting winter breath as he looked. His eyes scanning the ground for tracks, he kept the trail in his mind as well as its location to show his father. As he decided to turn to run, a whisper hit him from all sides, behind him, even above him..a quiet, shuddering whisper.
"Pinata tsipoyita........" -- "Do not speak..." said the whisper, as Black Weasel looked around, hearing crows take flight and squawking at each other, wings flapping and snow falling from the top of the tree they were at, above near the boy. Black Weasel sat in the snow in fear, his heart pounded unsure of what was going on..it seemed he no longer sought the silence, as now it seemed to scare him beyond belief. He turned his head to peer through the trunks again. He watched a bit far away the man was slowly walking from behind a rock to tip toe on his way, seeming to make try to make his quiet escape unaware. Glancing back, it made eye contact with Black Weasel, as yellow eyes shined at him..eyes of when the sunsets hit the eyes of the makoyii, wolf, or the mountain cat. The skin looked crusted and old like of an old woman, but the face was still strong and prominent like a primed warrior. Large yet broken mother-of-pearl shell earings swung from his earlobes as his silky dull loose hair rode the slight cold breeze. The boy in complete fear jumped up, even out of his robe and ran for the camp in just his loincloth and winter moccasin boots. Stumbling repeatedly into the snow, covering himself in its white bitter coldness as the camp's lodge poles came into sight, the clear smoke escaping the smoke-flaps. He ran around the base of his family's lodge to the east side, throwing the lodge-door open and crashing into the tipi, snow collapsing onto everything off his body. The girls screaming and protectively picking up their now wet dolls, and the grandmothers yelling curses to the boy as the snow landed all over the elder's quillwork. In fear he shouted to his father who's hair was being braided by his mother.
"Father father, I saw a crazy Crow!...A crazy Crow spy with sunny eyes!" panting as he regained his breath. Unfinished with his braid his father shot up instantly and ran outside, calling to other men. For his protection he ordered his son to remain in the lodge. His mother dried him and re-wrapped him in a blanket tightly, the ends of his braids dripping warm water from the melting snow. Moments of anticipation after his father returned, frustratedly throwing his weapons down and warming his hands.
"Did you get him?" he asked his father.
"You did not see a Crow, you did not see a man my son..calm down." he replied, but Black Weasel protested.
"Yes father, I saw him..he was painted like an Apsaroka (Crow) and had big feathers...he was running from me and when he looked he had bright eyes..." he pondered a moment, then spoke loudly again remembering the facts.."The tracks! there were tracks, follow them..they were of a man did you see!?"
His father Red Blanket shook his head, sighing as he re-relaxed into his spot in the lodge.
"My son, we found nothing but makoyii tracks..which would also explain the eyes you saw....it is ok Black Weasel, all boys fear the wolf at your age."
WORK IN PROGRESS
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