The Roar of the Falls: My Journey with Kaya

Kaya and I sit for what feels like hours, waiting for Toe-ta to return. We are surrounded by her family, and homesickness creeps in again. But I cannot leave until I know Kaya’s family is safe. Just when I cannot bear waiting anymore, I hear Long Legs start to bark. Speaking Rain says two people are approaching. Two figures appear out of the shadows. It’s Toe-ta and Jumps Back! There’s a flurry of voices over one another as everyone welcomes the men back. Toe-ta says everyone is safe, and he’s glad to see we’re safe, too.

When everyone has had their soup and their stories are finished, I tell Kaya it’s time for me to go home. I look into my friend’s face, and tell her Bear Blanket was right. I was searching for something, and I found it. I thank her family for caring for me. When Kautsa tells me goodbye, the kindness and strength of her words go straight to my heart.

Kaya walks me to the edge of the river and asks a fisherman to take me across in a canoe. I remind Kaya to remember her breathing; she’s more patient than she thinks. She reminds me to remember how strong I was with the horse training. All I can do is nod and squeeze Kaya’s hand because I’m so overcome with emotion to speak.

I climb into the canoe and sit and twist to wave at Kaya as the water separating us grows wider. She’s only a little brown dot when I reach the opposite shore and hurry behind a tree. I take one last look around, then rest my fingertips on the edge of the shell and trace a circle around the outside.

I push myself up from my bedroom floor. The animal-skin dress is gone, and I’m wearing my PJs again. I sit down in my bed and draw my knees up under my chin. I still have the bracelet, and my muscles are still sore from my day with Kaya. Did I really ride out with her on the grasslands? It all feels so far away, sitting here, enclosed by four walls with air-conditioning flowing through the vents and electric lights overhead. Kaya felt so at home in the wide-open outdoors.

Suddenly, I jump up, fling open my door, and hurtle downstairs to the living room. I wrap my arms around Dad, almost knocking him over. Mom comes out and asks if something is wrong. I wrap my arm around her and bring them in close. I tell them nothing is wrong. I’m just so happy to be home. Mom says I must’ve fallen asleep and journeyed far away in my dreams.

I smile to myself. Something like that. I go over to the screen porch door and open it up. I stroll over the cool grass to my garden and step over the little picket fence. This is where Kaya would want to be if she came here. And this is where I can remember her best. Outside, close to nature.