Chenoo (Closed)

Snork Maiden

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Joined
Jan 22, 2002
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This is a closed thread between CG Raven and Snork Maiden.

The tale of Chenoo

Of all the mystical creatures that roamed the earth, none could be more terrible than the formidable and terrifying Chenoo. But I shall not describe him here for that would lessen the enjoyment of the tale.

In the days before the Europeans even discovered that there was lands beyond the horizon, a race of people inhabited the lands that now form New Hampshire and Maine. These people found the lakes, rivers, and rich fertile lands around the foothills in these areas rich in the resources that they needed to survive. They became skilled at fishing and hunting, and also at cultivation of the numerous edible plants.

As with most ancient cultures these people regarded the four elements with respect, Earth, the Mother, nurturing, bringing forth food. Air, the Sky, Father, his warm sun blessing the land, his storms, his might and anger destroying crops. Water, the purifier and most important to these people Fire, Magical, sacred. The keeper of the flame would often be an elder or shaman, he would carry a coal from one encampment to another, keeping it alive with care and using it to start a new fire.

The campfire was an important social focal point. Here the elders of the clan or tribe would sit and tell the tales of their forefathers, passing their knowledge on to the next generation so that they in turn could do the same when their turn came.

It would be around such a fire that the tales of Chenoo and the other animals and creatures that these people believed were magical and spiritual, would be told. Young children would cling to their Mothers, hiding there faces in the soft furs of the clothes peering out to listen to the tales, whilst the warriors would sit grim faced, listening with respect to the elders as they too remembered the times when they too cowered in the arms of their Mothers.

Picture then the scenery of this tranquil land, and let the words that I write expand into your minds. The gentle trickling of a busy brook, clear waters, winding their way down from the mountainsides, not knowing where it’s going, nor caring where it’s been. It’s purpose could be no more that to provide a cool drink for the moose and deer as they make their journeys southwards before the Fall. Or then too, to provide a home for the salmon and the trout, that sit motionless in the current, blending themselves, their colors as one with the soft sandy hues of the gravel and pebbled river bed; their bodies concealed, out of the sight of the heron as he even now patrols the riverside; noble in stature and graceful on his stalk like limbs.

Sense now the heavy scent of the meadow flowers blossom, sweet nectar, intoxicating and inducing a peaceful sleep. The insects, attracted to them, offering a rich reward for their unwitting labors. Their gentle buzzing as they whirl around you pausing but for a moment to rest and causing you to twitch perhaps before heading on to that bloom that sways provocatively in the warm summer breeze drifting through the valley.

And now your eyes rise from that stream and green meadow as you draw into view the sight of the pine forest, skirting like a wall, the green pastureland and rising like a deep green blanket up the foot hills and mountainsides, too vast to regard without turning your head; your eyes follow the tops of these trees, now thinning as they give way to the hard stone of the mountains capped with snow, glistening against the bright blue skies. You turn in a circle and your eyes fall once more onto the soft sloping foot hills, and there across the way you can see the shapes of something that looks sort of out of place, and yet, it’s presence is not disturbing to the scene. A small group of huts, circular, with gentle sloping roofs, a wisp of blue-white smoke rising and the shapes of figures moving about with purpose.

It is here our tale of Chenoo begins, with the plight of a young Panawampskik Indian maiden as she is driven from the village where she has lived the past sixteen years, but now must leave, her Mother dead and Father missing she has no one to provide for her.

Her lack of parents is seen as an ill omen and she is regarded to be the harbinger of ill fortune. None of the braves are willing to pair-bond with her neither is any family willing to take her into their homes.

----------------------------------------------------
Anuwha-caluh-nechua (‘gift given in the morning sun’) lifted her eyes slowly, her long braided black hair cut from her head and tied around her neck faced the circle of men as the chief pronounced her banishment from the Tribe, another tear rolled slowly from the corner of her reddened eye following the tracks and dripping from her cheek. She slowly picked up the small animal skin bag that contained the total of her worldly possessions, a small carved fish her father had made for her as a child, a couple of squash and a beaded necklace, a treasure that had been her mothers. She turned slowly and walked from the meeting place towards the entrance to the village. The way was lined with the Tribe’s women and children.

She looked at each as she passed by, hoping that one would claim her, take her into their home, but one by one they regimentally turned their backs on her, in silence, crossed their arms and ignored her as she passed them by. As she reached the last hut she heard the chant start behind her as the tribe in unison completed the rite of exclusion. Now she was without a people, alone in the whole world her only hope, that she could find her Father, and bring him home.

He had left the village some weeks earlier, on a hunting trip and not returned. Some said he had fallen to the attack of a great bear, others that he had been slain by one of the many earth monsters that roamed and lived deep in the pine woods. Anuwha-culah knew her father had travelled westward; towards the land of the setting sun and it was thus in this direction she now chose to go. Leaving the rich pasture lands behind her, she entered the pine wood. The sunlight filtered down through the branches like fingers of gold and yellow light and the smell of the pines filled her head. Slowly she continued on….
 
Lost in the mists of time born in the far north land of endless winter. Where the warmth of Father Sky’s eye never melts the frozen world is the land of the Chenoo. Its icy breath the harbinger of winter. Some say they are earth giants the hearts of cold unyielding rock others that they where once men as we are. My people know the Chenoo as the being who comes from the far icy north, a creature who is man grown to be both devil and cannibal, a eater of raw meat, fearsome in appearance with long wild unkempt hair, teeth ragged and sharp, his finger nails like claws, clothed crudely in animal skins, the stench of death clinging to him. They are lonely solitary beings that suffer the company of none, no even their own kind. To the Panawampskik he is Kewahqu’

Yet even this fearsome and loathsome creature can be touched by love.

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Kewahqu’ had roamed far from his home Kas mu das doosek in the great white north, for his spirit was heavy and restless for the foul deeds he had committed. Many moons had he traveled in search of a Shaman to heal his spirit, when one day he chanced across Chepitchcalm, the dragon.

“Give way brother that I may pass.”


Chepitchcalm rose up as high as the towering pine. Kewahqu’ grew to his full height his head brushing the clouds. The battle was joined Chepitchcalm with claw and fearsome breath of fire, Kewahqu’ pulled a great pine from Mother Earth as his war club. His war cry so shrill the blood runs cold, Chepitchcalm’s as deep and rolling as thunder in the mountains. The battle lasted for three suns neither giving way and the earth shook from their struggle. With a might blow Kewahqu’ drove his opponent to the ground. Then lifting Chepitchcalm over his head he threw him to the dragon. Chepitchcalm landing in the great inland waters of Lake Champlain where it is said he still lives.

A mighty hunter of the Panawampskik was injured in the fight between Kewahqu’ & Chepitchcalm. Kewahqu’ drew himself in to the size of man, the man lay there not moving, so Kewahqu’ built a wigwam to shelter the little man thinking to himself that perhaps her knew of a great Shaman, if not he could always eat the little man. He set the little man in the wigwam, with fire to warm him, water for him to drink and the liver of a moose to nourish him. Many days the little man slept his leg broken hovering between the land of shadows and the land of men.
 
The morning sun was rising faster now, but beneath the canopy of the great Pine wood. The air was cool and comfortable, and Anuwah-caluh-nechua’s progress was steady and unhindered. Following the woodland trail that had over the passage of time, been formed by the numerous hunting parties from her village. She made her way deeper and deeper into the woods. The trees became denser and the light fainter. The sun broke through only occasionally. Where an older tree had fallen, through storm damage, now in its place new young saplings sprang to take advantage of the space and light.

She paused to rest for a while on the trunk of the fallen tree and her thoughts drifted back to the events of the morning. A lump formed in her throat as she recalled the memories and her eyes once again began to fill, blurring her vision. Just as the tear began to roll down her cheek she was surprised by a sound behind her.

‘Chweep Chweep, Tchk, Tchk, Tchk’

Anuwah looked about her, trying to see where the sound was coming from but she could see nothing. She looked behind the tree and in the branches that sprawled from it hanging limply earthwards now as it rested on it side.

‘Chweep Chweep, Tchk, Tchk, Tchk, Chweeeeep’

The sound came again and was followed by a pine cone hitting her on the head. ‘Hey stop that !!’, Anuwah called out spinning around and looking up.

There, sitting in the soft pine branches of a nearby tree, a squirrel sat watching the young Indian maiden with curiosity. ‘Tchk, Tchk, Tchk’, it chirped at her as she stood watching it.

Anuwah shook her head and smiled, ‘Mikweh’. She held out her hands to the squirrel and twitched her fingertips gently beckoning the small creature to come down to her.

‘Tchk, Chweep, Tchkkkk’, the squirrel responded, cautiously moving down the branch towards the trunk then down to the ground and scampered over to the fallen tree, leaping up on to it and looking at the young woman.

‘What’s with you small one?’ Anuwah asked the squirrel.

The squirrel said nothing but slowly edged towards her regarding her fur bag with suspicion.

‘Oh that, that’s ok, it’s not a squirrel, it’s just a bag see, silly’, Anuwah said putting the bag on the ground and opening it

‘Tchk, Tchk Chweeeeep’, the squirrel answered picking up the pine cone that it had previously thrown down at her, and scampering over to Anuwah placing the cone in her bag. ‘Tchk, Tchk’

‘Why thank you Mikweh’, the girl said softly to the woodland creature, ‘that’s very kind’

Rested she turned her head to look back once again on the path that would lead her through woods and hopefully to clues of where her father might be found.

She picked up her bag and bade the squirrel farewell before set off once more. The squirrel scampered off returning to the tree from which it had first came and watched the girl depart.

Onward Anuwah, travelled, the way becoming rockier and the incline steeper. In places she had to clamber over the large boulders that Father Sky had thrown down from the mountainside. Her fingernails became chipped as she scrabbled over the rocks. Losing her grip as she climbed a particularly awkward rock she grazed her knees, falling back onto the ground, blood seeping from the lightly broken skin.

As she sat collecting her thoughts and once more she heard a new sound
‘Chkuuur, Chkuuur, Chkuuur, Chooooooo’, The sound brought a smile to her face as she recognised the soft purr of Azeban, the Raccoon.

‘Hello Raccoon’, she said softly as the small furry Kit edged forward from a small hole under the rock. ‘How are you to day?’ she asked.

‘Chhkuuur Chukk, Chukk’, replied the raccoon, its nose twitching frantically as it watched her with it’s beady black eyes. Catching sight of her fur bag the Kit paused and looked quizzically at maiden.

‘It’s ok little one’, Anuwah reassured the small Kit, ‘It is only my bag, see’. As before Anuwah placed the back between her crossed legs and opened the bag to show the raccoon.

‘Chukk, Chukk Chukk, Chooooo’, the small creature responded then quickly turned and scampered back into it hole beneath the rock.

‘No, No, it’s ok Azeban’, Anuwah called softly after the creature, ‘I mean you no harm’.

She smiled softly as the creature appeared again at the entrance to it home, it’s bright eyes sparkling as they caught the light of the noon sun. Once more the raccoon ventured from it’s sanctuary and as she watched, Anuwah saw that it carried in it’s mouth a small blue jay egg. Carefully the raccoon edged it’s way over to Anuwah and then placed the egg in her bag.

‘Chhooo, Chuuk, Chuuuuuur’, it cooed and then turned and scampered back into it’s home.

Slowly Anuwah rose to her feet, picking up her bag once more and continued her journey. ‘Goodbye little Azeban and thank you for your gift’, she said quietly to the Raccoon.

Over the rocks she scrambled and then found a path that led around the base of the mountain. The trees were fewer now, there being little soil in which to plant deep roots. As she continued on her way she cam across a small mountain spring, its cool waters glistened in the sunlight and once more she paused to rest. Cupping her hands to scoop the water from the small pool into which the purifying waters spilled, she lifted it to her mouth. The fresh mountain draft, refreshed her, quenching her thirst and lifting her spirits. She turned to look back over the pinewood expanding beneath her, down to the now distant meadows and the lands she had been exiled from. As she turned once more to catch another handful of water from the spring she caught a movement in the bush to her side.

From under the bush two beautiful eyes peered out at her and a soft purring and chattering sound accompanied them. Anuwah drew back slowly and cautiously. It was Segounkw the Skunk.

‘Hey there Segounkw there’s no need to be scared’, Anuwah spoke softly and calmly to the creature, giving it space and respect for fear of an awful retribution. ‘Purrrrr, Chit, Chit’, the Skunk said as she slowly emerged from the shade of the bush, her pretty face striped with white, her small delicate paws padding softly at the ground.

‘Chit, Chit’, she said again moving slowly towards Anuwah.

The Indian girl sat down slowly and crossed her legs opening her hands to show the skunk that she had no weapon and meant no harm.

‘You see pretty one’, Anuwah said softly, ’I mean you no harm’

‘Purrrr Chit, Chit Purrrrrrrr’, replied the Skunk, then seeing Anuwah’s fur bag, paused abruptly and rose up chattering.

‘Hey now, it’s ok, don’t be getting all upset’, Anuwah reassured the Skunk, ‘It’s only my fur bag you see’. Carefully she opened the bag to show the Skunk.

‘Chit, Chit Chit ‘, replied the Skunk and she scampered back under the bush.

‘Aw now don’t be like that’, Anuwah said softly, ‘you can come out, there is no one here to harm you, and you look so pretty in the sunlight.

The tiny black nose of the Skunk appeared once more from under the bush and sniffed, then disappeared again.

Anuwah watched and waited quietly to see if Segounkw would once again reveal herself, and sure enough, after a short period of time the timid creature emerged once more. As Anuwah watched she could see that Segounkw carried large wildberry in her mouth. Slowly she walked over to Indian girl and placed the berry in her bag.

‘Chit, Chit Purrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr’, the skunk cooed and turned quickly to take cover under her bush once more.

‘Thank you kind Seguonkw for your gift’, Anuwah said gently to the Skunk as she rose and gathered up her bag. She took another drink of water and the looked up at the mountain. She had a long journey ahead of her, and the most difficult and dangerous part was yet to come, yet she felt even more certain now that her father must have ventured over the mountains to the ‘land where the sun sets’

As she began to climb the mountain path she started to wonder about her earlier encounters, Mikweh, the squirrel; Azeban the raccoon and Segounkw the Skunk and the gifts that they had given her. What did it mean? …
 
Kewahqu’ tended the fire of the wigwam as the little man hovered between the land of shadows and light. He spoke of his wife long passed to the land of the spirits. He spoke of a child as soft as the morning sun at dawn. Kewahqu’ looked at him and felt a strange pain deep in his mighty chest a pain that he had never felt before and it troubled him greatly. Slowly he rose as the little man tossed with fever.

Standing beneath the great eye of Father Sky he sang of the Glooskap and his Brother Malsum the wolf. Of the time when the animals and man lived in peace toghter, spoke, and shared with each other of Master Mahtigwess, the rabbit, of his rival Keeoony the otter. He asked all the great and small spirits to have mercy on the little man in the wigwam.
 
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By late afternoon Anuwah, had climbed almost to the peak of the great Mountain, her arms were tired and aching from the clambering and climbing she had been forced to do. Her feet were sore and she had numerous cuts and abrasions on her knees and arms.

Finding a cave that would provide her with shelter she decided to set up camp for the night. Not that she had much to set up. Cautiously she approached the opening, examining the ground in front of the cavern and thereabouts for animal tracks, for such places often sheltered wild bears, mountain cats and other fearsome creatures. The ground was dusty and tracks were visible but Anuwah knew from her Father’s teaching, that these tracks were old and that no animal was currently using this cave as a lair.

She was in the shade of the mountainside now and the late afternoon sun had long since passed over the summit of the mountain. It was colder too, for the air around the tops of these mountains was chilled as the west wind blows down over the snowy caps. But there was no snow here and she knew that she must again find water from a spring or stream. Opening her fur bag she emptied the contents out onto the dusty floor in the entrance of the cave.

Carefully she pick up each item and examined it with care, the necklace from her mother, the small carved fish from her father and the gifts given to her by the woodland creatures she had met on the way. She carefully placed each of these items back in to her bag and then pick up one of the squash she had brought with her placing the other in the bag also.

She glanced around the cave looking for a sharp stone with which to cut the thick skin of the vegetable and having located one proceeded to cut the bottom from it revealing its deep yellow flesh. She scraped away at the squash eating as much of the flesh as she could gouge from its husk but taking care not to split the skin. She knew she could use it to hold water if she could find some.

With her meal completed she rested a while, watching the birds flying over the pine woods below. The air was turning cooler still now and Anuwah knew that the sun would be setting within a few hours so she rose and went in search of water. Her search did not take long for a small mountain stream trickled over the rocks, water from the snow-caps, melting high above her. She took a drink and bathed her cuts and washed her body, cleansing herself of dust collected over the days journey. She filled the squash husk with water and returned to the cave to spend the night.

Sleep came slowly to the Indian girl, the air was cool and the mountainside filled with the calls of many night beasts. She huddled in the darkness looking out over the valley, lit by the pale white ethereal light of the Moon.

She was suddenly startled by a shadow moving quietly in the shadow of the rocks outside the cave. Anuwah jumped back and cowered in the darkness as the shape moved slowly towards her. Feeling about on the floor of the cave, Anuwah searched for the sharp rock she had used earlier to cut and eat her squash, her fingertips spread and clawed at the ground grasping but finding nothing. Still the thing in the shadows moved forwards. She held her breath and watched, it was all she could do, her limbs began to tremble with fear and the cold. Then the creature moved into a pool of moonlight that sat between the rocks and the cave and she sighed with great relief and smiled, for the beast was not demon or wild animal, it was Mouslem, the great grey wolf of the mountains. Dropping to her knees she smiled, as the Wolf stood regarding her his head held high and proud.

‘Mouslem, why you did scare me so creeping about so silently’. Anuwah said

The girl held out her arms and beckoned the wolf to come to her. Sniffing the air the wolf paused then slowly he entered the cave walking over to the girl and allowing her to wrap her arm around him and hugging him. His fur was soft and his body warm. She felt great joy in the comfort of this embrace, it had been a long while since she had held the body of another creature and her spirit was lifted. The wolf curled himself at her feet as she petted his thick fur and soon she curled up next to him hugging his warm body to keep warm. So the two wanders drifted into sleep.

Her sleep was uneasy, dreams filled with images of her childhood, swimming and fishing in the great lake, climbing trees and shooting fish with arrows. Yet as the night progressed the images became stranger, she began to dream of the terrors of the earth, and she tossed and turned restlessly. For a moment she thought she caught sight of her father calling to her across a wide raging river, his voice weak and failing. She awoke… but all was silent. The wolf stirred too in his sleep and then relaxed. Anuwah curled up again and soon fell back into slumber. She did not dream again that night.

Come morning, Anuwah awoke to the bright warm rays of the sun shining in to the cave. Mouslem, the wolf had departed once more, slipping off into the Mountains. She gathered her bag and drank the water from the squash beaker. She had to get going; she needed to cross over the mountains before the next nightfall.

Leaving the Cave she uttered a blessing on the shelter so that any that may come to rest there on future nights would do so in peace and safety. She looked up at the Sun, it rays warming her face and she smiled her heart felt less heavy today, it was as if a great weight had lifted over night and she stepped out with purpose. Picking up the mountain trail once more she continued on her journey…
 
Kewahqu’ kept his silent vigil over the little man for three days. The wicked
Loup-Cervier, the wild cat smelling death on the wind came slinking around the wigwam till Kewahqu’ screamed his war cry, which howled like the winner wind that chills all living things to the bone. At dawn of the fourth day the little man passed in to the realm of the spirit world the last words upon his lips where.

Anuwha-caluh-nechua

The daughter he had so often spoke of in his fevered dreams. The little man had made Kewahqu’ promise to take care of his daughter and now the Chenoo wondered how he would do that as she would most certainly run at the mere sight of him. He knew that the little man had been a good man for he was so different than Kewahqu’. The taking his clawed hand Kewahqu’ opened the little man’s chest his lifeless heart lay there and the Chenoo took it from his body and ate the little man’s heart in hopes that some of his goodness would help him Kewahqu’ to keep his promise

Kewahqu’ called to Malsum the gray wolf, Mooin the great black bear even Loup-Cervier, the wild –cat came. As Kewahqu’ prepared the Little man for burial to his return to mother earth Mooin and Malsum dug his grave and Loup-Cervier started to chant the death song.. the Chenoo laid the little man in the grave with his bow and a quiver of fine arrows, Malsum brought a fresh killed buck so he may have food on his journey, Mooin a soft blanket of his fur., even Loup-Cervier brought a pair of rabbits so the little man might have warm mittens.

The grave covered with stones Kewahqu’, Malsum, Mooin, and Loup-Cervier started to sing the death chant to easy and guide the little man to the land in the west the land of the spirits They would chant all the day long and through the night till the next dawn for the brave little man.
 
Her progress was good, for the most part, and by mid morning she had reached the edge of the snowfield. Good fortune too had smiled upon the brave Indian girl, for on the way she had come across a group of blueberry bushes and she had been able pick four or five handfuls. At least she would not go hungry and of course there was always the last of her squash.

The midday sun was warm in contrast to the coolness of the wind blowing from the snow-caps and she realised that she must cross over the mountain before sunset; she knew she would not survive a night in this cold environment.

She quickened her pace picking her way across the mountain face, the cold beginning to eat into the soles of her feet and her hands becoming red and numb from the snow covered rocks. To make things worst the wind was picking up adding to the chilling effect of the snow and ice and so courageously she carried on.

Snow blinded by the loose fine snow that whipped up and swirled as the blizzard heightened, it was as if Father Sky were deliberately trying to obstruct her. Anuwah looked up towards the sky, collapsing to her knees she cried out,

‘Why do you hinder me so, what harm have I ever caused in my brief time in this world’

She buried her head in her hands, sobbing pitifully, the cold bit at her heels, and the wind wrapped itself around her body like an icy cloak causing her to tremble with cold. She pulled herself to her feet and continued on. The top of the mountain was with in sight now and her spirits lifted at the prospect of reaching it. Suddenly a sound caught her ear, it was a strange and eerie sound carried by the wind. She discounted it momentarily as a trick of the wind, but then again she caught the sound, it was like nothing she had ever heard before and she became nervous. At times it sound like a wildcat calling and then it would change to the howl of a wolf, Mouslam. Deeper to the roar of mighty Mooin, the great bear of the mountain and in that sound there was something else, something more terrifying and unfamiliar.

As she drew near the top of the mountain the strange chorus of sounds grew louder, for it was being carried up the mountain from the west. Drawn by curiousity she followed the sound, and though she knew she would not reach it before sun down and she was cold and hungry she pressed on.

The sun had set, the sky twilight and orange as the light began to fail, she needed to find shelter but to her great disappoint she discovered the western side of the mountain was no less hospitable then the side she had struggled up the passed day. The cold intensified her fatigue and she found it difficult to continue. Finding an outcrop of rock that provided a lean to against the relentless wind. Shivering she drew herself into a ball and pulled a handful of berries from the bag and began to chew on them. Opening the fur bag she pulled it over feet to keep them warm and crouched low and tight in a ball to keep as warm as she could. She offered up a silent prayer to the spirits to keep her passing over that night and slowly slipped into sleep and unconciousness…
 
Kewahqu’, Malsum, Mooin, and Loup-Cervier had chanted the death song for the little man all the day long each taking their turn in the lead. As the sun was slowly setting in the west as the sky darkened to reds and lavenders the hunting call of Malsum kind came drifting down from the slopes of the mighty mountain that stood guard over the little valley where they where gathered.

Malsum peeks his ears and listens to the hunting song.

“Kewahqu’ go quick there is one in need on the mountain”

“Malsum what is that to meeeeeeeee…………………..”


Kewahqu’ voice trails off as there is unfamiliar warmth deep in his chest, he hears again the voice of the little man, he hears him call Anuwha-caluh-nechua. This feeling so strange to him frightens Kewahqu’ there is a desperate need with in him, his sense danger to another. Kewahqu’ stretches him self to his full heights now towering above the pines of the forest he strides towards the great mountain and the hunting call of Malsum’s brothers. Then in the first light of the rising moon he sees the pack as they stalk towards a little rock over hang on the mountain, as small figure lays there huddled in a ball, The first faint smells of death on the night wind. Then in one might bound Kewahqu’ is between the snarling pack and that still huddled figure. He breaks off the top of a tall pine a his war club and springs to the attack the pack scatters to come at him from all directions their teeth tearing at him as he swings his war club and bites at the pack with his ragged teeth a yelp and a wolf lies broken in the snow , another’s head is crushed by his club they bite scratch ad gouge Kewahqu’ till at last he drives them off. Bloodied wounded and torn he goes to the huddled little bundle laying in a ball,

A meridian as fair as the morning sun rise lays shivering with the clod hovering on the edge of death. He scoops her up in his arms holding her close to his chest. And once again the fearsome giant he strides back to the wigwam in the valley.


He lays her in the wigwam, the fire blazing, he holds her in his arms to warm her cold little body and prays to the sky mother to have mercy on this little one. Some where in the night Kewahqu’ wounds his strength depleted falls into a deep sleep as Malsum the gray wolf, Mooin the great black bear and Loup-Cervier, the wild –cat chant the little man safely to the land of spirits. With the dawning and their duty done each returns to the forest and his own path.
 
Her dreams were clouded and jumbled. One moment she was bathing in the cool waters of the lake near the village, the sun and green pastures around her and even the scent of the flowers could be sensed. Then she was in a bleak desolate place, the sound of wolves barking and howling as they encircled her snarling and snapping at her legs and arms as she span this way and that trying to fend them off with a stout stick.

Then she was floating, she could feel her body rising into the air carried by some unseen powerful spirit and as she looked down she could see all the wolves were slain, their lifeless corpses strewn about the hillside. It seemed like she had been flying for hours down the rugged mountain side and into the forest. Being amonst the trees again brought great comfort to her and she slipped deeper into a dreamless sleep.

Now in the warmth and shelter of the Chenoo's WigWam her sleep was restful and she stirred gently. Images of her Father entered her dreams, and again they were together fishing the great river with arrow and bow. Her father threaded another salmon onto the leather thread he had slung over his shoulder there was a lightness in his smile and tranquility in this place.
He beckoned her to follow as he headed back to the village, but she shook her head and said 'Not till I have caught a fish'

The kind man smiled, laughed and then replied 'Then shall we see you tomorrow?'

"That's not funny Papa, I'll catch one! I'll show you!", she replied

As the old man disappeared from view she suddenly feel a great feeling of loss sweep over her and she called out after him
"Father, .... Father hey wait up", she picked up her bow and headed after him "Father!!!"

The woods were dark and the trees which once seemed friendly and comforting, towered over her closing in around her and obsuring her view, obstructing her way. Ahead she caught a glimpse of her Father and then he disappeared from view again. The brambles snagged at her heels and the bindweeds tripped her feet as she stumbled after him, deeper and deeper into the woods. She did not recognise this forest, it was strange, the wind blew from the wrong ddirections and the sounds, the sounds were deep, dark and sinister.

She struggled on and ahead she could hear the sound of a great river running through the center of the wood. She rushed to its bank, the water bubbled and frothed like an angry cauldron and the sound deafened her ears as it rushed past her.

'Anuwha....Anuwahhhhhhh!' the voice of her father called out across the expanse of water. She looked up and saw him beckoning to her.

"Father !". She reached out her arms, but the figure turned and headed away

"Father, Father !" she called out frantically, eyeing the water, tears running down her face. "Wait for me, how do I cross over to you"

There was no reply from the old man and she collapsed to the ground sobbing.

She tossed and turned in her sleep calling out "father, father..." and then once more slipped into silence..
 
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The dawn has broken the little maiden tosses with fever in Kewahqu’s arms. Sweat bathes her brow, she shivers and calls out in her fever

"Father, .... Father hey wait up"

her lips are parched, her tongue slide across them desperately tiring to moisten them. She fights the embrace of the Chenoo, yet he holds her tight cradling gently in his arms keeping her warm as the morning wears on. From time to time Kewahqu moistens small piece of dear hide with cool water to fresh her parched lips. at noon again she cries out

Father

And throws her small little arms around Kewahqu’s neck then leans back in a faint. The Chenoo just sit holding the frail maiden rocking her in his arms sing a lullaby to her in her fevered tossed sleep. Again at the setting of the sun she calls.

"Father, Father !"…………… "Wait for me, how do I cross over to you"

she frantically calls, tears running down her soft cheek. Kewahqu caresses her cheek and whispers.

“Be still my child and rest.”
 
Father Sun rose in the eastern sky, his warmth and gentle orange radiance chasing the night back into the cracks and hollows of the land where it would remain until his journey to the west was once more complete.

Kewahqu, slumbered now, succumbing fianlly to his own fatigue after the fearsome battle with the wolves and night of vigil. In his arms Anuwah had slept peacefully for the rest of the night, her dreams free from further torment as he had tended her with a strangely uncommon compassion. Now as the gentle rays of the sun danced across her eyelids caressing her brow, she stirred gently, her fever had broken and her eyes opened.

Anuwah blinked quickly, screwing her eyes together tightly as the bright light blinded her and then cautiously again she opened them squinting through her long lashes and regarding the new hazy morning.

A light mist rose from the canopy of the woods below as the sun warmed the air made damp from dew formed by the retreating night. As her eyes became accustomed to the light she now realised that she was cradled in the arms of something huge. A chill ran through her body and slowly she turned her head, her mind already telling her what her eyes would soon confirm.

The sight that met her eyes caused her to draw her breath, she felt the urge to scream and yet to do so she knew would awaken the beast. It was indeed the Chenoo, a haggard man like creature of giant stature. His hair thick like kelp, his eyes sunk deep in dark sockets, haunted and gaunt; The whole of his body was naked, his skin weather torn and bruised. In places his arms and legs were cut and small rivulets of blood still ran from wounds sustained that earlier night. Chenoo’s shoulders hunched forward as he cradled the young Indian and she watched his lips quivered under his slumbering breath; lips that were gnawed away and hanging limp from his jaw as if, when hunger had struck hard he had eaten his own flesh.

Slowly, Anuwah struggled free from the creatures grasp pausing when her movement caused the creature to stir restlessly in it sleep. Occasionally she fancied she even heard it mutter her name under its sleeping breath,

“but that is just silly, how could Chenoo know of my name, unless… unless he had learn’t it from Father”, she thought to herself.

As she made her final move to slip from the cradling arms of Chenoo, a mischievous log cracked loudly in the heat of the dying fire sending sparks flying out and scorching the sleeping beast. In a panic Anuwah fled from the beast and cowered behind a rock, glancing cautiously from left to right seeking an escape route should the hideous being approach her.

The Chenoo did indeed move, stretching its arms wide and pushing out his huge chest, it yawned and shook the veil of sleep from it eyes. Its fearsome teeth, yellowed and stained, flashed in the early morning sun as its maul opened wide and emitted a low guttural sound. It blinked and sniffed the air and then lunged its huge head forward peering at the tiny Indian girl as she quaked behind her inadequate rock shield…
 
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Kewahqu weary from the battle with Malsum children finally succumbed to the need for rest, the frail maiden still tenderly cradled in his massive arms. Visions of the little man walked through his sleep. Again he spoke of his beloved child Anuwha-caluh-nechua. The Chenoo remembered all the little man had said, Why did the little man walk in Kewahqu’s dreams. Then he turns to the Chenoo, holding out his hand he places a small carved fish in Kewahqu hand.

The one who wears this you must protect and care for, she has no other, you must do it Kewahqu, you must care for Anuwha-caluh-nechua.

“I?”

Yes you Kewahqu for you now share my heart.

The little man is gone but his words echo through the beast mind over and over again repeating Yes you Kewahqu for you now share my heart………….. you must protect and care for, she has no other

Pain The touch of fire stings Kewahqu brings him suddenly awake. He stretches his massive body His mouth gaps wide as he yawn, grunts and chases the last traces of sleep from his body. Suddenly panic where was the little maiden, where was Anuwha-caluh-nechua?


Kewahqu sniff the air, her sent is strong, and his eyes blink against the brightness of the early morning sun. The Chenoo stretches turning his head he catches a small movement by a rock. There she is the little maiden cowering there, her eyes wide with fear as she searches for away to escape. Kewahqu reaches out his massive hand his eyes hold the Maiden captive, his hand slowly opens as if he will grab her. Yet he does not but merely opens it to reveal the carve fished in his hand.

“Anuwha-caluh-nechua?”


Kewahqu’s voice rumbles like the thunder of a summers storm.
 
The creature rose from its sitting position, and Anuwha watched frozen with fear as it loomed towards her. Its shaggy hair matted and straggly tumbled over the weather tanned skin of it broad shoulders, it’s large dark eyes squinted in the morning light as it tried to focus on the tiny Indian girl. It sniffed, then sniffed again, using its olfactory senses to aid in pinpointing Anuwha. She watched its ugly mouth quiver, saliva running from the corner of the drooping thick lips that hung askew from its mouth.

Chenoo’s head drew closer, she could feel its hot breath and she watched as it big hands moved to grasp her. She watched the large fingers of it hand unfurl as it made to grab her and she caught sight of a small carved fish. Her mind raced, how could this be, the fish looked similar to those that her father had made when she was a child, like the very wooden fish she had in her fur bag. Not taking her eyes from the Chenoo she fumbled through the small bag, her fingertip feeling the various textures of the items concealed therein.

’The Chenoo must have taken the fish from my bag as I slept’, she thought to herself.

Then her fingers wrapped around the item she was expecting not to find and she drew it out glancing at it. She glanced back at the large hand of the Chenoo and the smooth carved fish held in it palm. Then the Chenoo spoke. ’Anuwha-caluh-nechua’

This puzzled the small Indian girl and troubled her deeply, how did the creature know her name and how came he by the carved fish. She had heard storys of mischievous spirits that lived in the mountains. Tales told by parents to their children to stop them from wandering far from the village, she had never believed them to be true but now. Now she wondered. Had her Father been transformed into a Chenoo.

She looked into the Chenoo’s eyes, they were deep and sunken, like two pools of night sky and yet there seemed to be a sadness about them. She looked again at the wretched creature and saw that it had indeed been badly wounded by Mauslim’s children. Wounds it had endured to rescue her from the icy mountainside and her heart was filled with compassion and sympathy.

Bravely she stepped from behind the rock in plain view of the Chenoo. She looked up at the creature and then held out her carved fish. ‘Father ?’ she asked questioningly.
 
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Kewahqu remained perfectly still as he held the small carved fish in his clawed hand. There was a deep sorrow in him as the trembling maiden eyes where fixed on the little charm, slowly with her head held high she stepped from her hiding place.

‘Father ?’

The question was in her soft brown eyes as well as whisper in disbelief. Slowly she opened her small hand where her little charmed rests.

“ No Anuwha-caluh-nechua I am Kewahqu”

The fleeting hope that had shone in her bright eyes slowly fades. He knows that he must tell her of her father death, but how can he ever tell her that he had eaten the little man’s heart.

‘Your Father walks in the land of the spirits. Malsum, Mooin, and Loup-Cervier an I sang the death chant to easy and guide him to the land in the west, the land of the spirits.

The Chenoo paused as he felt a strange moisture on his scared cheek like a drop of rain and yet the sky was clear and no cloud caste it shadow on the little glade.

“Malsum heard the hunting call of his children on the mountain and that is where I found you.”

Kewahqu eased his from down on his haunches, sitting like a wild beast of the forest, bring his arm to his mouth he licked the deep wound on his fore arm which stilled oozed blood from his battle the night before.
 
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