Hetalia: The Fifty Stars

Chapter 40: Iktomi and the Ignorant Girl

Warning: Sex is a theme in this chapter. The subject is mentioned as a tale, so be advised this is a chapter based on a Sioux tale. You've been warned.

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South Dakota. The 40th state is known as North Dakota's rambunctious twin and Mt. Rushmore. Besides being known for tomfoolery, she's known to host a large Native American population whose culture is as unique as any other culture in the world. Having grown up on the reservation with the Sioux alongside her brother, she's proud of her Native American heritage, continuing to preserve aspects of it by memory and practice.

One of aspects of the culture she loved are Sioux legends. During her childhood, one of her favorite pastimes was listening to stories told by the Elders of the tribe. It was one of the few times she behaved and listened. Her own imagination would distract her enough to give the tribe some peace. Although, she would always fail to understand the lessons within these stories. And one of them was a weird tale she wouldn't understand until she got older.

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"How many times do I have to tell you? You don't interact with the White man," Chief Old Strike grumbled as he pulled me by the wrist, dragging me back to the village.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow! You're hurting me!" I screamed as loudly as I could, faking a few tears as well.

It didn't work.

"Don't play me for a fool, Red Sun."

Drats!

I hissed with a Sioux tongue, "You suck beaver balls! I hope a coyote nips your butt tonight!" The nearby mothers gasped in shock.

Everyone in the village easily heard my cries. Rather than help me, they stood and watched in curious amusement. I could hear them. The children calling me names. The mothers muttering their disapproval. The warriors snickering at the only troublemaker. The elders who usually stayed quiet were even whispering with small smiles underneath their freckled wrinkles. I narrowed my eyes at all of them.

Except for my brother, he was the only one who seemed to pity me. If he laughed, I would've put fox scat in his hunting bag.

"Let go! Let me go! Free me this instant, or else the Great Spirit will strike lightning onto your forehead!" I pounded on his wrist with my available hand. I planted my moccasins deep into the soft dirt, hoping to slow him down and possibly get loose from his tight grasp.

It wasn't enough to stop him from bringing me to the center of the village. "Red Sun!" he shouted. "You have sneaked out of the village without my permission. Not only that, you have interacted with a White man. You have defied the tribal rules and have brought shame upon yourself."

If I was any ordinary child, witnessing the wraith of a the chief for the first time, I would've been sobbing or peeing myself. But I wasn't an ordinary child, nor was this my first time being put in the burning light. I didn't burn in shame. I burned in rage. Their laughter was kindle to the flames in my chest. They wanted me to feel bad. They wanted to teach me a lesson, so I wouldn't do this again or else be humiliated again. Having put myself in the same spot for the fortieth, I should've learned by now. But no, I didn't learn to stop my behavior. Instead, I learned to put up with their annoying laughter, treating them like a flock of cowardly crows.

I also learned to do this.

I kicked the chief in the knee, hard enough for him to stumble and and loosen his grip. Everyone's laughter was cut into gasps. Chief 'Struck-in-the-Knee' winced as he held his knee. I took advantage of his pain to flee from the circle. I glanced behind me and saw the warriors were now after my pelt. Eeeeep!