The Shadow of the Wolf Read Free Page A

seen each other. Her hair was braided now, like a young woman’s. She was no taller than I, but somehow she seemed older.
    We were quiet at first, but then words came tumbling out. We both talked at once, hurrying to tell one another all that had happened in the last year. Soon it felt as if no time had passed at all.
    “I must return to the village now,” said Fawn at last. “This morning we take up our fish nets. Would you like to come and helpus? It is women’s work and you would be welcome.”
    Papa said, I’m going to the Indian village this morning to meet the chief. I can take the two of you with me in the wagon.”
    At the Indian village Fawn’s mother, Menisikwe, welcomed me. Fawn’s little brother, Megisi, who is just William’s age, was strapped to Menisikwe’s back in a cradleboard. Megisi wore no clothes. Instead, he was surrounded with lichen, which the Indians first softened and then used like a diaper. When it was soiled, you had only to throw it away. When she was washing William’s diapers, Mama often said that the Indians had a better idea.
    The women tucked up their skirts and waded into the lake. Nets fashioned of bass-wood twine had been put out the night before and fastened to poles stuck in the lake bottom. As the nets were pulled up, I could see hundreds of wriggling fish caught in the mesh. The women dragged the nets onto the shore with much laughing and shouting. They freed the fish and placed them in large birch-bark baskets. Most of the fish were what our French Canadian neighbors in Saginaw had called
poisson blanc
, or whitefish.

    I tried to help, although Fawn freed five fish to my one. Sometimes one of the women who had pulled loose a large fish would throw it at a friend, giggling as the womantried to catch the slippery fish. The fish, laid out across racks to dry in the sun, would be food for the winter.
    At noon I shared a bowl of corn soup with Fawn. In the afternoon we dug up potatoes and beets. At last Menisikwe said that Fawn might leave her work for a little, and the two of us walked along the shore of the lake.
    The shore was covered with gifts. There were stiff white gull feathers, clamshells whose insides were like pearl, and stones in every shade of pink and green. What we liked best of all were the pieces of driftwood worn by water and wind into strange shapes. We took turns guessing what each piece of driftwood looked like—a bear, a turtle, a boat?
    By the time we returned to the village, Papa was ready to leave. There was a serious look on his face. We heard him talking in a low voice to Sanatua. “Those men will stop at nothing to get the land the Ottawa wish to buy. But I do not mean to let them have it.”
    I was glad Papa was standing up for the Indians, but I could not help feeling worried, for I remembered how angry Mr. Blanker had been with Papa. As I said good-bye to Fawn, I could see that Papa’s words had troubled her as well. “You won’t have to go away again, will you?” I whispered. She only shook her head.

Each morning Mama would set lessons for me. As soon as my work was finished; I would climb into the wagon and drive with Papa to the Indian village. There I would help Fawn with her tasks. We would go into the woods to find firewood. We sat cross-legged for long hours while Menisikwe showed us how to weave mats to cover the wigwams. We hunched over buckskin shirts; embroidering them with beads. We wove rawhide into a frame of ash to make snowshoes.
    The snowshoes were shaped like a bear’s paw. They were painted in bright colors anddecorated with tassels.
    Menisikwe made Fawn do over anything that was not perfectly done the first time. When I made a mistake, Menisikwe was more patient. I think she expected less of me because I was not an Indian.
    Sometimes Fawn’s face clouded over when her mother scolded. She looked as if she would like to answer back. Yet she never did. Once when we were alone, I asked, “Why is your mother so