The Beaded Moccasins by Lynda Durrant Page B

slave. A father who dragged me away from my home and my best friend without so much as a backward glance."

    But don't I owe it to my parents to escape? Don't I owe my king at least an attempt to escape?
    Grandfather says the name Cuyahoga means "crooked river" in Cayuga, one of the Iroquois languages. The path has zigged and zagged every which way, following the river. I can't see our cave. Even our cliff has disappeared around the bend.
    There might be not another person on earth but me.
    I shiver as the wind blows cold against my face and limbs. It seems to blow right through my hollowed stomach. How good it would feel to sit in front of our family fire, warm and safe.
    What about yourself, Mary? What do you owe yourself?
    I owe myself my life and a chance for happiness.
    Go back now before they reckon you tried to escape. Do whatever you have to do in order to survive. King, country, parents, friendship-they won't mean anything if you're dead.
    ***
    Back in the cave, Hepte and Chickadee are stretching the skins and hanging them over the fire. When Hepte sees my face, swollen and red from crying, she looks at me questioningly.
    "Hepte," I say softly, "
kamis
Chickadee."
    I begin to apologize, but Hepte puts her arms around me.
    "
Ku, ku,
" she says softly. "Tonn."
    She holds my face in her hands. They're wet but I tell myself not to think about why.

    "Everything's so different," I cry out in Unami. "Everything's so different with you people. It's ... so hard."
    A flicker of understanding lights her eyes.
    "Don't tell on me ... please," I plead with her. "Don't tell your father I tried to leave."
    "
Heh-heh. Chitanisinen, Tonn,
" she says slowly.
    I nod, recognizing the word for "strength."
    "
'Chitanisinen lappi, Tonn
" she says.
    Strength again, Daughter.
    "
Heh-heh
" I reply. "
Chitanisinen lappi.
"
    "Our secret. It took strength to leave," Hepte says slowly, "but so much more to return."

9. Sequin
    S OMEONE FROM ANOTHER FAMILY FIRE makes up a story about the People and the winter as a great, hibernating bear. "We are in the jaws of the bear. The wind is the bear's snores, wheezing and howling through its huge teeth."

    Everyone smiles and nods and points to the icicles hanging down, fanglike, from the top lip of the cave. The snow wall looks like a bear's bottom lip.
    The icicle fangs grow longer and longer. The days are a little warmer now, so the ice melts as the sun shines. But the nights are still cold, so the dripping water freezes once the sun is down. One of our icicles has frozen all the way to the floor of the cave. It's one solid piece of ice.
    The ice on the river snaps and breaks. The cracking ice sounds like the booming of cannon fire and makes
me think of British soldiers, finally coming to rescue me.

    Our snow wall begins to melt. Water trickles inward, and in some places the uneven cave floor is ankle deep with icy water. One morning we push the snow wall over the side. We all blink at one another in the bright sunlight.
    I can see the river again from the cave. The swift current spins the floating ice chunks into a delicate minuet.
    Grandfather says the Cuyahoga empties into a great lake, so wide the other side can't be seen. He says there are even bigger lakes farther to the north, with waves as big as ocean waves.
    I didn't know we were so close to the French lakes. We're at war with France.
    My heart beats a little faster and my mouth goes dry.
    He says the French call this lake Lac du Chat, Cat Lake, because it was named after the Erie, the People of the Panther.
    "It was the French who first traded with them, but the Erie have disappeared," he explains. "The French call the lake after the Erie to remember them."
    I frown at the river. "There is something odd about the Cuyahoga," I say to him.
    Grandfather nods. "It flows north. Most rivers flow south."
    "Of course! How strange."
    "Soon we'll go to Sequin, and you'll see why this river flows north. You can read, Granddaughter. You'll go with us