Chickadee by Louise Erdrich

After a time, the air grew dark and cold. Fishtail made a fire. Animikiins took out some dried pemmican. They ate. They slept. They woke again, and waited. Two Strike kept a lookout while the two men hunted. The air grew dark and cold again, and Fishtail built up the fire. Animikiins roasted the rabbits he’d caught. The three ate, slept, and waited again by the rock.
    At first there was just a dot on the horizon. It was a curious dot. After it appeared, it disappeared. Then after a time it appeared again. The dot seemed to go forward, then backward, to enlarge and shrink. It wavered and sank out of sight. When it finally got big enough so that the watchers could tell it was a man carrying a large load, Two Strike growled.
    â€œSomething is wrong here,” said Animikiins.
    â€œLet’s find out,” said Fishtail.
    The three ran toward the strange figure and soon reached Babiche, who staggered beneath a tremendous weight. His brother was on his back, groaning and half conscious. The huge canvas mail sack was at his feet.
    For all of his other faults, Babiche had two fierce loyalties. He had carried his brother, then the mail sack, then his brother again, whenever he could not walk. Somehow, as the result of this extreme effort, the two brothers and the mail sack had continued along the trail.
    â€œMerci, mon dieu! Merci beaucoup!” cried Babiche. “Come help me my friends … and, ah!”
    Suddenly he recognized that Two Strike was not a man. Not only that, but she had a knife between her teeth and two knives in her hands and was running straight at him. In a flash the words of Orph Carter rang in Babiche’s head and he sank to his knees.
    He dumped his brother on the ground and put his beefy hands in the air.
    â€œPardon! Pardon!” he cried.
    In a bound, Two Strike reached him and loomed over him. Animikiins was right behind.
    â€œWhere is Chickadee?”
    Babiche’s eyes welled with tears.
    â€œWhat do you mean? Chickadee? You want a little bird? I haven’t seen one!”
    â€œGaawiin, you lying son of a skunk,” said Two Strike. “We want the boy you stole. Where is he?”
    â€œBoy?” Babiche gave a frozen grin.
    On the ground, Batiste had stopped groaning. He was pretending to be dead.
    â€œIf you don’t answer me right now,” said Two Strike, “all the knives come out!”
    â€œOh yes, now I remember,” Babiche blubbered. “The boy wanted to go with us.”
    Animikiins grabbed Babiche around the throat and lifted him with one hand.
    â€œWe took the boy!” Babiche gasped. “Awee! I admit this! But my friend, you have two . Both the same! Could you not spare one?”
    Animikiins could not help his hand from squeezing. His desperation was the boundless desperation of a father who loves his son. Behind them, Fishtail restrained Two Strike from using at least three of her knives on Babiche right then. Babiche gestured wildly for Animikiins to let go of his neck so he could talk.
    Animikiins dropped him, and Babiche choked, rubbing his neck.
    â€œTalk, and be quick about it,” said Fishtail.
    â€œWhen, ah, my brother took sick I sent the boy back to our little house with the horses. He kindly took them. He was a very good serv—Ah, boy! He’s probably back there by now with the horses, a cozy fire going, a nice pot of bouyah cooking.”
    â€œWretch! What are you talking about! Servant?” Two Strike said.
    â€œWe made him our servant, yes,” said Babiche in a tiny voice. “But now, great lady, my brother and I will serve you! We will be happy to serve you!”
    â€œChickadee should be your master,” cried Two Strike.
    â€œAnd where is this house?” Animikiins was becoming dangerous with frustration. Servant indeed! His little son!
    Babiche trembled as he gave directions to the cabin. Even as he shuddered, though, he was filled with admiration for Two Strike. He looked