16 16 Cold Wind Blows

As the sunsets on grandfathers mountain the men exit the sweat lodge and a cranky boy kicks over the remaining water in a bucket onto the embers from the sweat lodge fire pit. Grandfather turns as he hears the hiss of the stream. Wide eyed he sees his grandson knocked back as the vision of the Night Bird rises from the steam, as a ice cold wind rises and blows, glaring at the boy. Grandfather runs to scoop him up but falls just short of the boy. Night Bird's booming voice echos in the lodge. "Boy of Red flame if you seek out to be on the warriors path your hands will be stained red. If you choose the path of the healer you will never be a warrior. Only a warrior can be a Great War Chief and I see none of it in you. Go to your home and stay safe. Don't seek out the girl! You are not worthy. All you will have come to you will be misery." Grandfather lifts himself off of the ground and holds the boy up high. "Night Bird, Do not spew your evil words out to turn my grandson from his rightful path," Grandfather shouts as he fumes with anger, "He is destined to do great things for our clan. How dare you wait for him to be alone and the messengers to have departed to come here. Go back to your darkness and quit troubling the young ones with your jealousy. It is your own envy that Great Spirit has taken away your right to be a messenger. Begone with you. Leave this place." Night Bird screeches as he takes flight as a plume of ink black smoke, "Mark my words boy, I will come back to haunt you again when the protection of this elder is no longer with you." Night Bird takes off and bolts into the shadows as the sky fades to darkness. Cold wind follows his departing. Taken aback the others stare shell shocked as the event has yet to kick into their minds not knowing how to make sense of it.

Sitting down they all wipe down with cool water as they get ready to eat. After washing and processing all that has happened today they slowly start to take wooden bowls of the soup that Bright Squirrel has made. It had even turned out to be not so bad. Though she looks to be no more than a teenage girl and has much to learn she is trying to survive as best she can. Snow Owl begins to ponder what the Owl messenger had said of her. Shaking his head it clear the thoughts he sees his brother chuckle at him and turns away. It is hard to believe that the small frail girl is carrying the future of his sons within her. She's just too small and thin. Seeing the look on his sons face Grandfather decided to break the tension.

"My sons it has come to my attention that my health is not so good anymore and I will soon need a helper to aid me in doing my daily tasks. Since Bright Squirrel has no home and no village woman would be willing to come way up the mountain to care for my old bones, I suggest that she stay here with me. In that time I can teach her much of what I know as well as have someone to talk to. Also if what the Owl has said is of merit then she will need to learn our ways." Smiling he walked to her and asked if it was alright with her and she nodded with a bright smile. Talking her hands he looked deep into her eyes. His smile went to become a scrutinizing gaze. Just as she was about to pull her hands away in fright of his gaze he laughed loudly. "Snow Fox this one can be fixed! Her voice is stuck. brew her some stinging nettle and cat mint tea. Come, come I wish to hear her before you leave in the morning." Shaking her head she was fearful of the memory of the pain that she had before. Bewildered the elder spun her around and danced around the cooking fire. She was so mystified by this strange old man.

Snow Fox brewed the tea and added honey to cut the bitterness and soothe her throat. Her black eyes widened as she drank the tea. Intermittently sticking out her tongue at the crude taste. Suddenly she gagged and started to cough and vomit black crud. Snow Fox had not expected this to happen, as it had never happened before when giving the tea. It was for healing. Pondering the Owls words and his fathers insight it started to make sense. Laying on the ground she started to groan in discomfort clutching her chest and belly. Mortified he asked his father if it would harm her or the "gifts" from the Great Spirit. The elder shook his head no in response. It was needed to clear her throat and vocal cords to force it out. He whispered that he believed that the black crud was infection and old blood trapped around her vocal cords from her being attacked by the lion and her living was nothing short of a blessing from Great Spirit. Her groans where there was no sound before was enough to support his belief.

In some stories from Native American Tribes, the Night Bird is another way of describing bats, while in others it is a way of describing demonic spirits and messengers of evil or death, but sometimes it will be depicted as a vulture, this varies between tribes and nations.