The trip down the mountains was nightmarish for Nitasi. His mind was filled with currents of doubt, confusion, and anger in a sea of fear.

Had the village really been in flame? Perhaps it was just an errant ray from the rising sun that caused the early morning mist to burn. He couldn’t be sure now. At least that is what he told himself. He chided himself for his lack of patience, for not waiting until he fully understood what was happening below. But the fear had propelled him. He had stopped only to grab his pack. Now, rushing down the mountain, he could not know what had happened until he entered the valley.

He tried to convince himself that this was just another Coyote dream. The thought haunted him and filled him with hope. He willed himself to wake up by the fire. Each time he stumbled on a lose rock or brushed against a prickly mountain pine the tender flesh of his hope was rubbed raw and the fear gushed forth. He could feel that the walking medicine had grown thin.

He raged against the gods. The thought of them sitting on their stone benches while the village burned galled him. He could imagine Coyote from his dreams, looking at him with those cruel eyes and mocking smile, laughing. Laughing at him.

At times eddies of reason would swirl over him. How bad could it be? Even if the whole village had burnt down, even if all the winter’s food was lost, they would rebuild. There was plenty of time before the first snow, there was plenty of time before the herds started their migration south. It was during these moments of clarity that other fears began to gnaw at him. Was this a test? The tribe had been acting oddly lately’the joke the council had played on him was proof of that. For that matter, the gods themselves had been acting oddly. He was returning to the village without having completed his vision quest. He would have to wait for another year to try again’and he would embarrass his father.

All of Nitasi’s doubts and false comforts evaporated as he dropped below the timberline. Smoke still clung to the aspens in wisps like a eerie dark mist. He thought of the fate of his village and felt ashamed. His village was burning and all he could think of was himself, his pride. Nitasi was awakened from his reverie by a movement in the trees. He shuddered. The vision of his mutilated clansmen staggering out of the mist washed over him. He blinked back his tears and glared into the smoke-filled shadows between the trees. He was sure it had been an animal, but still a feeling of unease crept over him. The smell of smoke was choking him. Then he noticed it. This was not just the smoke of a wood fire. It had layers, and below the wood smoke was something darker, more sinister. He recognized it as the smell of a funeral pyre, the smell of roasted flesh. Sickened, Nitasi charged through the woods toward home.

It was midday before Nitasi finally made his way to the valley. He stopped just inside the last row of trees and surveyed the village. The fire still smoldered in places and the whole village hand been destroyed. He had expected to see his clansmen sifting through the rubble and collecting wood to begin rebuilding. To his horror, there was no movement in the village. From this vantage point he could see the whole village, except for the small mud hut that the witch lived in. The witch’s hut was away from the rest of the village, behind a small hill. Tears welled up in Nitasi’s eyes and he ran toward the village, covering his nose and trying not to retch as he ran into the carrion smell.

He looked into the ruins of the houses that lined the path. The story was the same in every house. charred corpses huddled together’parents leaning close to shield the children between them. Nitasi was sick. He could not understand what had happened. Why had they stayed in their houses and burned?

His house drew him in with horrifying gravity. He wanted to run away. He wanted to wake up on the cold stone benches of Medicine Rock. But he had to know. He closed his eyes and stepped through the still-smoldering doorway of his cabin. Panting for breath, he steeled his courage and opened his eyes. The floor was scattered with the charred remains of familiar things—wooden bowls, tools, woven blankets. He sighed with relief and left the house. His father was not there.

Nitasi’s tracker senses became wary as he made his way to the council house. There were scuff marks and smears of blood on the hard ground of the public square. Heavy marks showed that something heavy had been dragged—or dragged itself—to the council house. Nitasi found his father and the rest of the council in the council house. Each dressed in the ceremonial robes that represented their gods. Nitaloch wore the Bear costume. The left side of his face was burned beyond recognition and the bear hide had melted to his skin. Nitalocha stared at Nitasi with his remaining cold dead eye. Nitasi looked away. He couldn’t bear to see his father this way, but he had to know what happened.

Nitasi gulped and turned back toward his father. Nitalocha’s throat was torn open, several deep slashes across his chest exposed his ribs, his fingernails were broken, his palms and knees were covered with bloody sores and scrape marks. Nitasi covered his mouth and ran outside. He collapsed at the base of a burnt wall and retched between sobs. He had not eaten for days, but continued to vomit until it was a thick red bile that reminded him of the berry ichor of his dream.

He had learned a few things. It was not fire that destroyed the village and his father at least had fought back. He figured that his father had been in their home when it caught fire. He was probably badly burned there, but ran outside and fought. He was probably in the square when he got his chest wounds. Then he had dragged himself to the council house. And then it came to finish him. But what was it? This did not seem to be the work of the other clans. He could not imagine that even Coyote clan would be capable of such butchery. They were at peace with the elves. Perhaps the dark elves known as the Drow would be capable of such a slaughter, but why the deceit. They usually traveled in small bands and made little attempt to cover their crimes. It could perhaps be the lowlanders, but they would have attacked in large numbers with their thundersticks. Nitasi was baffled. He could not imagine who did this, but his heart burned with rage. He would have his vengeance.

Nitasi wandered numbly through the rubble until he came across the broken and burned body of Kihto. Kihto’s pale dead hands still clutched his hunting knife and bow. Kihto too had fought to the end.

As the red rays of the setting sun began to cut through the smoke, Nitasi noticed a new smell. It was also smoke, but from a new fire, a fire that was being used to cook food. From over the small hill, a single narrow ribbon of a cookfire ascended. Nitasi’s heart jumped. Someone was still alive.

Nitasi crept stealthily around the small hill, staying low in the shadows of young aspens lest this someone was the same someone who had destroyed the village. He paused under the cover of a small copse of aspens that overlooked the witch’s hut. Smoke spiraled from the chimney. He watched for moment until the witch emerged from the hut. She cut a few plants from her small herb garden and then disappeared back into her hut. Nitasi watched for a few moments before deciding it was safe. Nitasi was going to visit the witch.

Nitasi surveyed the clearing one last time before sprinting across to the side of Tskilu’s hut. He smiled grimly as he thought of the many times the clan had offered to build her a proper home, a log home like the others lived in. She insisted on living in a mud hut as was the tradition of her people. Now he wondered if the hut had in some way protected her.

As Nitasi slowly approached the door, he heard the witch’s voice. “Nitasi, is that you? Stop slinking around and come inside.” He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He took a deep breath to calm himself and ducked under the low doorway into the hut. She sat on a pile of furs near the fire, her back toward him, grinding herbs in a stone bowl. “It’s about time you quit hiding in the bushes and came in.” Tskilu did not look at him, but kept working with the herbs. “Quit Standing there with your mouth open and sit down.” She gestured to some hides next to the fire, still not looking up.

Nitasi was in shock. Outside the village was still smoldering and here Tskilu was going about life. In addition to the horror and sorrow, Nitasi was tired. He moved to another stack of furs across the fire from her and sat down. The witch no longer wore the gray shift he was accustomed to, nor was her hair covered in mourning ashes as it was when he saw her at the council. She was freshly bathed and wearing a black shift made of fine woven fabric. Her head was bowed over her work and her long white hair covered her face. Nitasi’s pain turned into rage whe he noticed that she had bathed, that she was no longer mourning.

“Have you forgotten our people so quickly that you have quit mourning and their bodies are not even cold?”

“You forget, Nitasi, that I am not one of you. I was a prisoner. Have you forgotten that I am from Coyote clan? Your father never forgot.”

Nitasi’s rage flared. “You did this. You and your Coyote people.”

Tskilu cackled. “Even Coyote has some honor,” she hissed. Her bitterness stilled Nitasi’s rage. “not even Coyote would slay your old women and children. Not even after what your father did to us.” Nitasi’s father had led an attack against the Coyote people just before Nitasi was born. The war had been started when Coyote had refused to choose sides between the Elves and the Lowlanders. Coyote’s neutrality left Bear surrounded on three sides by the Lowlanders and their allies—cut off from the other tribes that had made peace with the Elves. Bear clan had started a war with them in hopes that they could be forced to make a pact with the Elves. Bear had slaughtered all of Coyote’s warriors at a cost almost as high to themselves. Bear left all of the children, women, and old folk uninjured. They had brought Tskilu back as a prisioner. “Your people treated me well, for the most part, but I was still a prisoner. Even then I tried to warn them. I told them of my visions, but the wouldn’t listen. I did everything I could for them. I have mourned for them enough already.”

“What vision?” asked Nitasi.

“You were at the council you heard my warnings.” Nitasi bowed his head, stung with shame. Tskilu cackled. “No, I suppose you didn’t. You were too worried about yourself to listen to the Coyote dreams of a crazy old witch. Perhaps I am wasting my time here. You are just like they were.” Were! The word cut Nitasi to the bone.

Tskilu sighed and looked up at Nitasi. It was the first time she had looked at him since he entered her hut. His eyes widened when he saw the burn marks on her face. The had that held the pestle was burned and twisted into a claw. “I did everything I could for them,” she whispered. “I was with them until the end, trying to make them believe. I think, maybe, your father started to believe. Maybe that is why he chose to send you on your vision quest when he did.”

“He sent me because there are no other kids my age. He didn’t want me to be alone. Anyway I am a better hunter than Kihto.” His anger rallied in an irrational defense of his father’s motives. He felt a pang of guilt and sorrow at Kihto’s name.

Tskilu smiled. “I imagine that is what he told you and kihto and even the council. I think he probably had himself convinced as well. I warned him that after the hunt was finished and before the first leaves of fall had changed, a great tragedy would befall the village. I didn’t know how it would happen. I didn’t know it would be this horrible.

“I should have foreseen this. I should have known the severity. Coyote hates Bear above all others. And it was Coyote that sent me the warnings.” Tskilu shivered. “The gods themselves are afraid.”

Nitasi gaped at her. “What did happen? Who did this?” Nitasi asked. Tskilu looked at him for a moment and then a look of concern flashed across her face.

“You must be starved. Have a bite to eat and then I will tell you the story.” Tskilu gave him some dried meat and mixed some tea with the herbs she had been grinding. As Nitasi ate, his eyes began to droop. Before he could finish eating, Nitasi was asleep. Tskilu chuckled softly, and covered him with a fur.

* * *

It was dark when Nitasi awoke. Tskilu was chanting and shaking a shaman’s rattle. The rattle was ornately carved to look like a coyote head and had rows of inlaid teeth that Nitasi assumed were real. At intervals, Tskilu would throw herbs into the fire. She would breath deeply before resuming her chant and its rattle accompaniment. Nitasi could not understand the words. He assumed they were in the Coyote language. He watched quietly. He was afraid to interrupt. If she was casting a spell it might break her concentration and ruin the spell. He was not at all sure he liked the idea of her casting spells, but he thought it might be dangerous to break the spell.

Tskilu put the rattle down and looked up at Nitasi. “Are you ready to hear what happened to your people, Nitasi?” He was ready to hear, but he didn’t know if he could trust a Coyote witch. It was as likely or not Tskilu and her people that had destroyed the village.

“Was that a spell you were singing just now?” he asked nervously. He still didn’t know if he wanted her casting spells. He imagined all of the terrible things she could do to him. Coyote was a god devoted to making mischief. A god without loyalties or morals and she was his servant.

“No! That was merely a prayer. You are wise to mistrust.” she said. He felt naked before her. Every time she looked at him, she read his thoughts. Of course, Rage, Grief, and Fear are easy reads. “I thought about hiding the truth from you. I even asked Coyote. But there is no reason for me to lie. Truth is where all the sorrow and hurt lives. And I fear that If I lie to you, it will be my people that suffer. The answer is difficult. The story of your people began long ago.”

Tskilu reached into a small leather bag and pulled out some walking medicine and threw it in the fire. As the smoke boiled around her and Nitasi, When the drug took effect, her eyes glazed over and then rolled up in their sockets. She began to chant the stories of the gods. Her voice became rough and so deep that Nitasi could not imagine that it came from her small fragile frame.

Long ago, when man first came to this world, Coyote was walking through the woods, enjoying the freshly fallen snows and the sounds of the wind whistling threw the pines. During his walk he came across a new creature that called itself Man. Coyote was friendly so he sat and talked to Man. As they visited, Coyote overheard Man’s wife, Woman complaining about the cold.

“I can help this Man-creature.” Coyote said to himself and set off to find Bear.

Bear was wandering through the forest, raiding beehives for honey, fishing the rivers, and eating the early winter berries. Bear, who called himself Karuk, was the strongest of Coyotes brothers and sisters. Bear was the keeper of Fire.

Coyote found Bear and asked him if he could have just a little bit of Fire to give to the Man-creature. Bear growled in rage. He loved the fire and guarded it jealously. Bear would not let Fire out of his site. He carried it with him on an ornate torch.

Fire was grumpy and always complained that Bear at in front of him, but never offered him so much as a twig. Coyote said to Fire, “You look like you could go out at any minute. Doesn’t Bear ever feed you?”

Fire was happy to meet someone who understood his plight. “Help me!” Fire cried.

If I had a fine Fire like you, I would never let you starve,” Coyote said. “What do you eat?”

“Wood! I need wood!” Fire moaned.

“If you help me get away from bear, I will take you to a place where you will always have enough to eat.”

“I can feel myself extinguishing!” moaned Fire. “Tell me what to do.”

“Do you see the berries on the bush on the other side of the clearing? When Bear reaches for them, burn his hands.”

Coyote looked at Bear, who was stuffing berries into his mouth as fast as he could, and asked “Why are you eating these berries when the really big ripe berries are on the bush on the other side of the meadow?” Coyote pointed at a bush on the side of a hill across the meadow.

Bear smiled and made his way to the bush, but every time he reached for the berries, Fire burned him. Bear roared, then carefully sat fire down next to a big rock. When Bear was busy gobbling berries. Sly Coyote snuck over and stole Fire.

Man was delighted by Coyote’s gift. And this is Coyote stole Fire from Bear and how Man got Fire.

Nothing new here thought Nitasi. Standard fare. Nitasi had heard this story almost every time the clan got together for a feast. It was so ingrained that Nitasi had even had a dream about it during his vision quest. But Tskilu was not finished…

Bear was furious, and wanted to eat Coyote. But the gods gathered together and protected Coyote. The gods were afraid of Bear, because they knew that at the end of the time, Karuk, the destroyer, would be reunited with Fire and together they would set it aflame. The gods decided to punish Bear for loosing Fire. Eagle reached into Bears soul and took the part that Bear loved most—his strength and rage. Eagle took Bear’s rage and trapped it in a piece of black stone. He tied some hemp rope around the stone to make an amulet. Eagle wore the amulet night and day to keep it safe. Eagle feared that whoever wore the amulet controlled Bear’s Rage.

One night Coyote asked Eagle to take him on a vision quest. Eagle took a great deal of walking medicine. The next morning when he awoke, Coyote was already gone. So was the amulet. Eagle searched the world over, but could never find the amulet or prove that Coyote took it.

When the song was done, Tskilu set down the rattle and sat panting. Slowly the focus returned to her eyes. It took a lot out of here to put herself in a trance and speak for the gods. This was not the story that Tskilu wanted to tell. She wanted to tell simply that it was the Lowlanders or the Elves and be done. Tskilu wanted to lie, because more than anything the truth, this truth, scared her. This was new. Nitasi had never heard about discord between the gods. He had never heard that the gods feared Bear or punished him.

“Nitasi, There is a bit more that I need to tell you. before I can answer your question. Not long before you were born, our people were friendly. But the wars between the Elves and the Lowlanders came. The tribes were pressured to choose sides. Each clan held a council to decide if they would fight with the Elves or the Lowlanders. Most clans based their decision on who their neighbors were. Crow, Serpent, and Bear sided with the Elves, while Deer, Eagle, and Rabbit sided with the Lowlanders. Only Coyote decided stay neutral.”

Nitasi glared at Tskilu. He knew all of this. Why was she wasting time. Why wouldn’t she just tell him?

“This is what wrecked the tribe’s peace. This is what brought Bear and Coyote to war. Your father was a great Bear warrior and was the war chief of you clan. He lead the slaughter of our warriors. He brought me here as a prisoner. I was, am, the Coyote clan Ghigua. In my clan, I am the namer of names, unlike your clan who lets the council give names. Without me, none of the Coyote children could become hunters, none of them could become warriors. It was a cruel punishment that your father placed on Coyote tribe. Almost as cruel as the destruction of your tribe. He took our honor. You will receive your naming tonight. You will retain your honor.”

Tears and rage mixed in Nitasi’s eyes. How could she say these things about his father? How dare she? He bit his tongue. Wiping away the tears, he said, “I cannot be named. I failed in my vision quest. I failed to find my animal guide.”

Tskilu chuckled and said, “We shall see about that, but let me finish my story first.” She didn’t wait for Nitasi to protest. “Your father’s hunter name was not Nitalocha. He was given that name as an honor for slaughtering my people. They say he fought with the fury of ten bears.” Nitasi had not heard this story, but was not surprised. It was not uncommon for warriors to be given new names as a reward for victory in battle. Some times cowards were branded in the same way. “They changed your father’s name on the very day you were conceived. I don’t think it was an accident. I think the gods were behind it.

“One day Nitalocha was walking in the forest and came across a dead she-bear. He searched the nearby caves until he found the she-bears cub. To honor the bear he brought the cub back to the village and raised it as his son. Every day the cub became more and more human until you could no longer tell it was a bear cub. Your people accepted the cub as one of them and gave it the name Nitasi.”

Nitasi was enraged. “I am not a bear! My mother was not a she-bear. Her name was—”

Tskilu glared at Nitasi. For the first time he could see the anger in her eyes. She was hurt too. “Nitasi, do you always have to take everything so damned literally,” she hissed. “When you were born, your council gave you the birth name of Nitasi. It is the wisest thing I saw your council do. They understood that you have the soul of a bear. You are Bear reborn. That is why you never found your animal guide. You don’t need one. That is why you did not see Bear on medicine rock” Nitasi gasped. He had not told her about that. “You sat at Bear’s place in council. They accepted and recognized you as their equal.”

“Nitasi, it was you who came in the form of the bear, wielding fire, and destroyed the village. I saw you. You slaughtered your father and the rest of the tribe, even Kihto. Nitasi, think about the problem you never would have destroyed your own people, Bear would not have destroyed them either. Some one else was in control. And they were testing the power of their control.”

Nitasi growled at her. He wanted to grab his knife and slash her. He wanted to do the things that had been done to his people. And in that moment of rage, Nitasi saw that she was telling the truth. He felt sick. He clutched his stomach and fell to the floor.

Tskilu gave him a moment and then continued, “You were born with the spirit of a god, but unfortunately that god has a weakness and now somebody else is in control. Nitasi you need to find the amulet and bring it back. It is the only way the rest of the clans can survive. If you fail, it may mean the end of the world. Nitasi, your new name is Karuk.” Nitasi gasped. Karuk was the name of the Fire aspect of the Bear’s soul, the same part that was the fury, the same part that was the destroyer. Tskilu looked at Nitasi and smiled grimly. “My job here is done and now I will return to my people. I have been away for too long.” She emptied the contents of a bowl into the fire. When the smoke cleared, Tskilu was gone.