Slow Woman made a fine soup from the scraps of food. She ladled meager portions into small carved wooden bowls and handed the first bowl to her husband. The smell of the food made their mouths water, and Hawk held his hands to his little cheeks as his jaw muscles contracted and made sharp burning pains on both sides of his cheeks. He watched as his father took the bowl from his mother’s shaking hands, held it up to the spirits, and spoke. "Creator, and all of your spirit helpers, I offer this food to you as a gift from my family. Bless all our relatives from the four legged nation, and the plant nation that gave their lives so that my family and others can survive. Honor their spirits, and walk with them on their journey to the other side for the gift they have given so that the people may live." When Shadow finished speaking he handed the small wooden bowl back to Slow Woman. Hawk watched as his mother left the shack to offer the first of their food to spirit in the way she had been taught. Hawk held his cheeks tighter as another spasm rippled its way through his jaw muscles and saw his sister’s hands on her cheeks as well. When his mother returned he watched hungrily as she brought a bowl of soup first to his father, then one each to himself, his sister, and Tekumsila. When they all had their soup in hand, she retrieved the last bowl for herself and sat beside father. Hawk took hungry sips of the warm soup. Mother reminded him to eat slowly, but the hunger boiled in his stomach, and it was difficult to wait.
With the warmth of the soup in his body, Hawk’s eyes felt heavy and before the others had finished their soup, Hawk’s eyes slowly closed and sleep engulfed his little body. Not long after his sister curled up beside him with her empty bowl cradled in her arms. It was Shadow’s custom to reserve this time of night for telling his children the history of their people. His father had done this with him, and his father, and his father, and all the fathers that came before them. When he was gone, his children would pass the information onto their children, and each generation after that would do the telling as well. This was most important to ensure the ways of his people would not pass away. But he could not bring himself to wake the children, and this night he let his children sleep the healing sleep that comes with full stomach’s.
Slow Woman looked up as her husband and son stepped through the door. Her eyes widened slightly when she saw the stranger enter behind them. Tekumsila recognized the same hollow cheeks that he had seen on the small boy. He watched as the woman’s eyes darted back and forth between himself and Shadow, then wiped her hands on the ragged cloth tied around her waist. Though her body was wasted from long hunger, Tekumsila could still see the beauty in her sad face. Shadow reached into the buckskin pouch tied at his waist and pulled out the steak bones, radishes, and onion peelings. Slow Woman’s eyes lit up at the sight of the food and she temporarily forgot about the stranger standing at her husband’s side. With her eyes carefully averted to the floor she eagerly took the food from Shadow’s hands and moved to the far corner of the room to clean and prepare it for cooking.
Tekumsila watched the woman’s shaking hands as she worked with the meager food. Her movements were swift. He recognized the determination on her exhausted face, the shaky swift movements of her hands, and the obvious exhaustion of hunger as she moved around the tight little corner where her cooking fire rested in the mud fireplace. The bones of her joints made jagged lines across the thin fabric of her dress with each movement of her hands. Her face had lines from years of hard work, too little food, and eyes filled with suffering and fear. He had seen this many times in his own people as he watched the magical dance of desperation, balanced with the enormous effort to survive. Tekumsila turned his eyes away from the woman. Watching her brought many memories of the same suffering his own people and family had endured. Instead he surveyed the interior of the small one room shack. It consisted of a mud fire place in the far corner and a rough wooden board set atop two rounds of wood that made up the make shift table. Ragged blankets neatly folded on the floor in the opposite corner marked the sleeping area for the family and a little girl sat quietly staring up at him. Her thin body, shrunken cheeks, and huge eyes, were the same as the woman’s and little Hawk’s. Shadow sat on the floor near where Tekumsila stood then motioned with his hand for Tekumsila to join him. "Come, sit," he said and patted the clean swept floor next to him. Tekumsila lowered his weary body to the floor and breathed a sigh of relief as his tired joints sent shooting pains up and down his weary legs.
They sat in silence while the woman moved about the opposite corner. Tekumsila closed his aged eyes and thought about his long travels to find a place where the remnants of his people could once again live as the old ways, without hunger and free from the cold breath of brother wind. "Great Spirit," his mind thought wearily, "My heart is on the ground this day, for I am an old man. I see that there is no place left for us, not for my people, not for these people. Our children are starving, and our women are weak. The young warriors are leaving the land in an effort to survive, and the earth mother is wounded. Ho, Great Spirit, what will become of our nations." He could not help the soft sob that escaped from his soul. Shadow quietly rose and went to the fire. He picked a hot coal from the fire and laid it on fresh sage. Tekumsila breathed in the sweet smell as the aroma wafted through the small room and mingled with the odor of the leftovers the woman was preparing for their meal.
Shadow glanced at Tekumsila and saw the weary look on his drawn face. Shadow felt Tekumsila’s weariness in his own bones as well and picked up one of the old thread bare blankets and handed it to Tekumsila. Slow Woman gathered the empty bowls and took them to the make shift table. Shadow covered his two small children with another of the thin blankets, then he and Slow Woman wrapped themselves in each others arms on the hard bare floor with the remaining blanket and gratefully allowed the dream world to carry them away. Tekumsila wrapped his blanket around his frail body, slid to his side, and with a glance over at the small sleeping family, closed his eyes and drifted off to dream world himself.
