Page 86 of The Last Warrior

“We are.” He crawled toward her, taking a position next to her. “And now we have some leisure, I think, to hold our council, unless you object.”

When she indicated she had no disagreement, he produced his pipe from within the parchment bag he carried. “Is this your first Indian council?”

“It is.”

“Waste. Then let me explain the ritual, so you do not wonder about some of the ceremonies. First, the Red Man does not hold council without the pipe, for this is the way we communicate with the Great Spirit.”

When she nodded, Black Lion continued. “Once the pipe is lit, we ask the Divine One to listen to our words, and so we offer the sacred smoke to the Sky, to the Earth, to the Four Winds and to the Great Spirit, hoping each one in their turn will hear our words. We use piiksiistsimaan. This is the Blackfeet word for the sacred substance we smoke. It is not tobacco as the white man raises it, but rather a mixture of tobacco with bearberry, red-willow bark and the leaves of the sumac. It is a sacred substance used only in ceremony.”

Again, she nodded.

“Are you ready to begin?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Waste.” He lit the sacred mixture in the red-stoned pipe. Once the proper respect was shown to the sacredness of their council, he took several puffs from the pipe. Then he offered the pipe to Suzette.

Suzette accepted the sacred article from him. “You want me to smoke?”

He nodded. “Hau. You…smoke…”

She did as he instructed, coughing a little with the first puff. He gazed at her with some concern, but mostly with admiration, for it was endearing to watch her, even though it was obvious this was her first smoke.

But she said not a word. Instead, she returned the pipe to him.

Accepting it back from her, Black Lion began their council. “We smoke the sacred tobacco, offering our prayers to the Creator and to our Mother the Earth so they may hear what we say. In accepting the pipe, you should know that one commits himself to a sacred oath, and one promises what he or she says in this council is the truth, and no alteration. Once the pipe is smoked, no lies must ever fill the air where a council is held, for one is speaking before the Creator, and to lie would be as to curse oneself. Do you understand?”

Suzette nodded.

“Waste,” he said. “It is good. Now is the time for us to discuss your dream. It might be a sacred dream or it could be an ordinary one. Let us determine which it is. Can you tell me of it?”

“Yes. But first, Black Lion, I am urged to tell you I fear you are in danger.”

“What you say is true. I am in danger. We are in a country which is hostile to any Indian.”

“No, I do not fear that you are in jeopardy from Buffalo Bill, his scouts or other white people. Rather, if my dream is to be considered, I believe you could be in peril from a mystical being, a god.”

“The Thunderer?”

She nodded.

This surprised him, though he tried to keep the look of astonishment hidden from her. As he had said to her before, it was rare enough for a woman to dream as the men did. But to dream of the Thunderer…

If this were true, hers was no ordinary dream. Such a vision was also dangerous for its beholder, since to dream of the Thunderer was to become a Heyoka, a backward person.

A Heyoka did everything topsy-turvy. He washed in sand, was dirtied by water, spoke the opposite of what he meant. He even walked backward. Indeed, to an Indian heart, to dream of the Thunderer was an occurrence no man dare ignore, lest he be struck dead.

Black Lion said none of his thoughts to her. After all, maybe he jumped ahead of himself. Perhaps it had been no more than a simple nightmare.

He nodded toward her. “Go on, tell me of this vision.”

“It was frightening at first, for there was lightning striking all around me…”

“But it did not touch you?”

“No. Instead, the Thunderer confronted me in a human form. That is, he looked as men look, but his skin was blue and gray. And he threatened you. He told me he was going to kill you, and he told me to leave here.”

“The Thunderer said this to you? He told you to leave here?”