Through Yellow Eyes

Sekani

I awake to the sound crying. It is mother again. She is already eight full moons pregnant, and is still going crazy. I am told it happens to every woman who gets pregnant, they start crying for no reason and want to eat more, which doesn't help at all with the amount of fresh kill the hunters bring now. I really do not want that to happen to me. 

I slowly rise from my sleeping position, rubbing my eyes. I look out the opening in the tipi to check how early in the morning it is. The sun has just risen from behind the low trees; it is still early in the morning. The rabbits will not be above ground yet, so there is no point in doing any hunting right now. I am not supposed to hunt, that's a man's job. Even the men have to reach the age of sixteen years before they can hunt for food. Before that they are only allowed to hunt for sport. I am that age, but I can forget ever becoming a real hunter. I am a girl living among people who believe women are no good with a weapon. But I have been hunting for food since I was a little girl, which makes me an abomination through the tribe's eyes. But no one knows, except for mother. She has not told anyone because she doesn't want to see me get hurt, or because I bring back food that satisfies her needs.

I walk over to where mother is sitting, weeping into her hands. Out tipi isn't very large, so it only takes three strides to reach her. "What's wrong, mother?" I ask soothingly, rubbing her back gently. Mother is weak from the baby. She relies on Caddo for survival and me for comfort. She looks up at me, and I see my reflection in her wet eyes. My long black hair is in tangles from my sleep, and my chestnut brown skin felt tight and restricted.

"Sekani, there is no food. Caddo doesn't come back until sunset, I need food." Mother moans. I sigh, it is another one of her craves. They have become frequent. Caddo doesn't notice because her belly is usually satisfied when he comes home from hunting or fighting. But he does notice her temper.

"I will get food for you, mother." I stand up and walk to the other side of the tipi where my weapons and clothes hid behind the bear skin rug. Since I can't get a hold of any real weapons, I had to make mine out of wood from trees. They aren't perfect, but are good enough to haul some kill. I remember sitting on a rock, looking out into the mountains, whittling down branches to make arrows and spears. I am good with the bow and arrow, but my asset is my spear. I can hit a leaping rabbit right in the eyes five strides away from it. But I mainly go for the head or heart, a quicker and easier kill.

I have special hunting clothes. They are made from the skin of an antelope I killed a while ago, my first large kill. I killed the animal, but mother turned it into a dress. It hangs off my shoulders and stops at my knee. It used to be a light brown, but after all that time rolling in the mud and grass to reach my kill, it has taken on hints of green and brown. It is easy to move in and is good camouflage because of the green and brown colour, which is why I wear it when I go hunting. My other clothes have our tribe’s beads and jewellery attached to them which are made out of the teeth of the hunter's kill, and they make noises any time I move, so it would scare away any living creature within earshot.

I had started hunting when I was old enough to talk and hold a knife. It all started when I snuck off to the forest one night. I was feeling neglected that night and decided to run away. For survival, I stole Caddo’s knife. Caddo is my father. I was sitting under a tree in the moonlight, when I heard noises beside me. I looked over and saw a squirrel on a low branch eating a nut. I would have ignored it, but it was making an irritating chatter with its teeth as it ate. I was in a particularly bad mood, and my temper was as easy to set off as it is for a squirrel to noisily eat a nut. I angrily threw the knife in its direction, hitting it square in the stomach before it had a chance to run. Feeling too proud to overlook this, I ran home with the dead squirrel and knife in my hands to show my family. Caddo wasn’t home because he was doing some extra hunting, so it was just Mother. Instead of bursting in pride and happiness like I thought she would, she took the squirrel from me and made me promise not to speak of that moment to anyone. I could tell from the seriousness in her voice that it was best to follow her rules, so I didn’t utter a word.  I then realized why she did not want me to say I have been in the forest. Mother let me hunt in secret, because she loved seeing the joy on my face when I came home. But now it seems as if what I do is for our survival, not my joy.