Lone Wolves (14 page)

With her whole body atremble, Denny hugged her mother as tight as she could with her face buried in her mother's shoulder to hide her tears and to muffle her sobbing.

“I'm sorry,” she said over and over.

Her father stood beside them, uncertain what to do, unused to displays of affection.

Looking up from the embrace, Denny saw Mary Paniaq turn and run outside. Worried that she was having a miscarriage, Denny ran after her. Mary was leaning against the outside of the building, her whole body shaking.

“Are you alright?” Denny asked, putting a hand on Mary's shoulder.

“No one loves me like that. No one cares about me.”

Denny turned Mary around so that they were facing each other.

“That's not true and you know it,” she said sternly.

Mary sniveled before she spoke.

“Name one person who cares about me. Just one.”

“I do, Mary. I care about you.”

Mary broke out into even more tears and sobbing.

“Why? Why do you care so much?”

“Because you're part of this community,” replied Deneena. “We're a family. We have to help each other. I want to help you.”

Mary wiped her face with the back of her hand.

“I don't know what to do. I'm so afraid. I got this kid inside me. I gotta raise her by myself. My whole life is ruined.”

“It's okay to be afraid. We're all afraid sometimes. But you're not alone and your life isn't ruined. Do you hear me? It's not ruined. But you have to stop drinking and doing all that other crap or else you could ruin your baby's life.”

“I'll . . . I'll try,” said Mary.

“No. That's not good enough. You have to stop right now,” Denny said sternly. “I'll help you. Promise me. Promise you'll stop.”

“You'll help me?” Mary sniveled again.

Denny smiled.

“Whatever it takes. You know I'm good for my word.”

“I promise,” said Mary, looking down and caressing her taut belly.

The two teenage girls held each other with their hearts pressed close together—the weaker gaining strength and courage from the stronger. Eventually, they went back inside where it was warm.

Later, after almost everyone had left, Silas walked up to Denny with both hands in his pockets.

“Pretty good party, huh?”

“It was wonderful.”

“Bet you didn't expect it.”

“Nope. Bet you didn't expect
this
,” Denny said, as she punched Silas on the shoulder and giggled.

“Ouch!” said Silas, rubbing his shoulder. “You're strong . . . for a girl.”

Denny reached into her pants pocket and pulled out a small, smooth stone and handed it to her friend.

“What's this?” he asked.

“I don't need it anymore,” replied Denny. “I know who I am and where I come from.”

While her mother and grandmother stayed behind to help clean up the community center hall, Denny drove home to unload the dogs and feed them their supper, giving each one an extra piece of dried salmon and a well-deserved pat on the head. When they were done eating, Denny gave each dog a slice of the bone-shaped cake.

Taz got the one with his name written in blue frosting.

Afterward, though dead tired, Denny drove up to the cemetery on the hill overlooking the village and stood beside the whitewashed picket fence with the waist-high, brightly painted house enclosed, a temporary home for the spirit.

“I did it, Grandpa. I finished the race just like I promised,” she said.

A raven alighted on a nearby cross and ruffled his wings before hunkering down against the cold.

“I wish you could have seen me. You would have been proud,” she said, tearfully. “I remembered the things you taught me, like the story about the mouse and about not putting myself above others. I think things are going to be better between me and my dad. I think he's proud of me, even though he can't say it yet.”

The raven cawed.

“I miss you.”

The raven cawed again.

Denny placed the red lantern on her grandfather's grave and wiped her eyes.

“This is to help you find your way home,” she said so softly that a breeze swept her words over the hill and across the quiet river.

The raven flew away.

A little later, back home as the sun began to set, Denny untied Tazlina, and together—a girl and a wolf—they wandered down to the river, sat side-by-side on the bank, and gazed at the snowy mountains turning pink in the twilight. They listened to the swaying and creaking trees and marveled at a playful raven reeling and tumbling on a crosswind, until the thin, dark-blue pencil stroke of dusk finally turned to night.

References

Glossary of Indian Words by Chapter

All words in Ahtna (pronounced ot-naw), an endangered Athabaskan language from Alaska's vast interior, come from the author's
Ahtna Noun Dictionary and Pronunciation Guide
(1998, 1999, 2011; foreword by Noam Chomsky and Steven Pinker). Mentored by the legendary M.I.T. linguist, Ken Hale, John Smelcer is also the editor-compiler of the
Alutiiq Noun Dictionary and Pronunciation Guide
(2011, foreword by the Dalai Lama and Eyak Chief Marie Smith). Both dictionaries can be accessed at www.johnsmelcer.com (click on Dictionaries). In the spring of 2011, the author gave a lecture on his linguistic work at Harvard University's Lamont Library as part of their Omniglot Seminars. All myths come from the author's
In the Shadows of Mountains
(1997) and
The Raven and the Totem
(1992). All bilingual poems come from the author's
Beautiful Words: The Complete Ahtna Poems
(2011), a landmark in American literature and American Indian Studies. The helpful pronunciation guide below uses rudimentary English phonetics. Note: The slashed-L (Ł or ł) sound is generally unpronounceable to non-Native speakers.

Song of the Wind

(Word) – (Definition) – (Pronunciation

Łts'ii c'eliis
– Wind Song – [chee kay-lees]

ts'abaeli
– spruce tree – [chaw-bell-lee]

ghelaay
– mountain – [ga-lie-ee]

K'ełt'aeni
– Mt. Sanford – [kelth-taw-nee]

saghani
– raven – [saw-gaw-nee]

Saghani Ggaay
–
the mythic figure, – [saw-gaw-nee guy] Raven, the Trickster

udzih taas
– caribou soup – [you-jee toss]

ts'inst'e'e
– old woman – [chin-steh]

da'atnae
– old man – [daw-ot-na]

tsa hwnax – outhouse – [chaw nock]

Note:
Tsa
means “poop/feces.” The word for grizzly bear is
tsaani
(literally “bear that smells like poop”). Thus,
tsa hwnax
literally means “poop house.”

sezel
– steam bath, sweathouse – [sez-el]

Note: The word for Saturday is
sezel ggaay
(“little steam bath”); the word for Sunday is
sezelce'e
(“big steam bath”).

Land of Ice

nen' tae dlii
– land of ice – [nen ta dlee]

dligi
– squirrel – [dlee-gee]

tikaani
– wolf – [tik-aw-nee]

tsa'
– beaver – [chaw]

tsa' zes
– beaver pelt/skin – [chaw zess]

To learn more about the fatal wolf attack on a rural Alaskan teacher in March 2010, go to www.msnbc.msn.com/id/35913715/us_news_life, or go to http://articles.latimes.com/2010/mar/13/nation/la-na-wolf-attack13-2010mar13, or simply Google the keywords . Alaska Native Billie (neé Carter) Upland's mother was killed by wolves at Ft. Yukon in the 1950s while walking home from the village general store with a bag of groceries. The author of this novel survived a wolf attack just outside the northern boundary of Denali National Park.

River's Edge

na' baaghe
– river's edge – [naw baw-way]

deniigi
– moose – [deh-nee-gee]

ggax
– rabbit – [gok; also gak]

(Note: a local river is called Gakona [gaw-koe-na], literally “Rabbit River”)

dluuni
– mouse – [dloo-nee]

tsin'aen
– thank you – [chin-nen]

The bilingual poem “On Feet of Clouds” is on permanent display at the red wolf exhibit of Chicago's Brookfield Zoo.

Spirit of the Trail

ceyiige' gha tene
– spirit of the trail –
[
kay-yee-geh wa ten-eh]

guuxi
– coffee – [goo-kee; English loanword]

utniil
– oatmeal – [oot-neel; English loanword]

stakalbaey
– camprobber – [stock-all-bay]

cen'łkatl'i
– woodpecker – [ken-skaw-klee]

Note:
cen
is a root word that refers to wood/plants; e.g. stick, root, trunk, stalk

yanida'a
– mythic times – [yan-ee-daw-ah]

ciił
– young man – [keeth]

nel'ii
– black bear – [nell-ee]

Words Have Teeth

hnae ghu' ‘aen
– words have teeth – [na woo an]

xał
– sled – [hoth]

xał tl'aaxi
– sled runners – [hoth tlaw-kee]

xał yii
– sled basket – [hoth yee]

xał dzaade'
– brace, stanchion – [hoth jaw-deh]

xał daten'
– sled handle – [hoth daw-ten]

łitl'uule'
– main line – [thlit-loo-leh]

ciz'aani
– heart – [kiz-zaw-nee]

Note: The bilingual poem “Heart” can be heard read aloud by the author at
Harvard Review Online
.

A Day's Journey

ts'iłk'ey dzaen yuuł
– one day journey – [chell-kay jan yoolth]

xonahang
– goodbye – [hoe-naw-hong]

‘aat'
– wife – [s-aht; pron. as two syllables]

ts'anyae
– burbot – [chen-ya]

tsaey
– tea – [chie; Russian loanword]

Potlatch

hwtiitł
– potlatch –
[koo-teeth; also who-teeth]

dzoogaey
– potlatch guests – [joo-gay]

hwtiitł ts'ede'
– potlatch blanket – [who-teeth ched-eh]

tsa'
– beaver – [chaw]

nuuni
– porcupine – [noo-nee]

deyaazi
– cow moose – [day-yaw-zee]

hwtiitł kołdogh
– potlatch speech – [koo-teeth kolth-doe]

Tsisyu
– Paint Clan – [shish-you]

Note: the author is a member of Tsisyu Clan; his father is Talcheena Clan

Talcheena
– comes from the sea – [tal-chee-naw]

ghleli
– drum – [lay-lee] also [way-lee]

hwtiitł c'edzes
– potlatch dance – [koo-teeth ked-zess]

Note: In his lifetime, John Smelcer has participated in dozens of potlatches across Alaska, including the potlatches for Chief Harry Johns of Copper Center and Chief Walter Northway of Northway Village, who, it is said, was 117 years old when he died. John has been part of the hosting family on numerous occasions, such as on the death of his great aunt and great uncle, Joe and Morrie Secondchief, and the deaths of his beloved uncle and grandmother, Herbert Smelcer and Mary Joe Smelcer (photos of the potlatch for John's grandmother can be seen on the author's website; click on bio or photo gallery). In the spring of 1978, while in junior high school, John participated in the “Stick Dance,” an annual potlatch held in Nulato, an Eskimo village on the lower Yukon River. The trip was sponsored by the Johnson O'Malley Program for Native students. In 1996, John received a grant from the State of Alaska to hold a series of workshops in Copper Center so that he and elders could teach Indian youth how to sing, dance, and drum for the potlatch. John's great grandfather, Tazlina Joe, was instrumental in taking the potlatch underground during its prohibition from the late 1800s until about
the 1940s.

January

‘Ałts'eni na'aaye'
– Fifth Month – [alt-say-nee naw-eye]

Note: Winters in interior Alaska are so cold and so long that seven of the winter months are simply numbered. January is the “fifth month of snow.” Let's learn to count to ten in Ahtna: (1)
ts'ełk'ey
[chell-kay], (2)
nadaeggi
[na-da-gee], (3)
taa'i
[taw-kee], (4)
denc'ih
[denk-ee], (5)
ałts'eni
[alt-say-nee], (6)
gistaani
[gist-aw-nee], (7)
konts'aghi
[kont-sa-gee], (8)
łl'edenc'ih
[ka-denk-ee], (9)
ts'ełk'ey kole
[chell-kay kwal-aye], (10)
hwlazaan
[la-zon].

Swift River

Tezdlen Na'
– Tazlina River – [tez-dlen-naw]

Note: The word literally means “swift river.” Nowadays, the river is conveniently spelled
Tazlina
[taz-lee-na]. Since the early 1990s, the author's little rustic cabin has perched on the bluff above the confluence of the Copper and Tazlina Rivers overlooking the family fish-wheel and the snowy Wrangell Mountains where his ancestor's spirits are said to dwell.

February

Gistaani na'aaye'
– Sixth Month – [gis-taw-nee naw-eye]

The Girl with the Black Wolf

t'aede kae tikaani t'uuts'
– “teenage girl with black wolf” – [ta-deh ka tik-aw-nee toots-sen]

Note: An adult woman is called
ts'akae
[chass-ka]

ciz'aani
– heart – [kiz-zaw-nee]

On the Face of Things

uyida' neltats'
– chin tattoo – [oo-yee-da nell-tats]

Note: The Ahtna word for chin is
uyida'.

City of Ants

nadosi
– ant, ants – [na-doe-see]

nadosi tene
– ant road – [na-doe-see ten-eh]

nadosi kayax ce'e
– big village of ants – [na-doe-see kie-yok kek-eh]

Note:
kayax
means village;
ce'e
means big or large

kon' tuu
– whiskey, liquor – [kon-too]

Note:
kon' tuu
means “firewater,” because liquor burns the mouth and throat.

Denny's Journey Begins

yuuł tezyaa
– journey starts – [yooth tez-yaw]

High Country

ghelaay nen'
– mountain country – [ga-lie-ee nen]

A Rising Star

son'de'aa
– star rises; goes up – [son deh-daw]

The Storm Passes

hw'eł kuzyaa
– (snow)storm passes – [who-eth kooz-yaw]

Homecoming

k'edze' ghak'ae
–
returning home
–
[kej-eh wa-ka]