The Roar of the Falls: My Journey with Kaya

Crouching low, we dart through the grasses. Once we’re out of sight of the clearing, we straighten up and run as fast as we can. On and on, our feet pound the hard-packed grass. I can feel my heart screaming in protest. The camp seems to be miles away, but Kaya never slackens her speed. She runs swiftly, her feet barely touching the ground.

I’m on the verge of collapse when the sound of the falls grows louder and I see the pointed poles of the tepees appear on the horizon. Moments later, we burst into camp covered in dust and panting.

Brown Deer, Kautsa, and Speaking Rain are weaving by their tepee. They jump when they see us. Brown Deer asks what’s wrong. Kaya gestures to the east as she gasps out that raiders made off with the herd. Brown Deer rushes off to tell the men who are fishing. Moments later, several men run past us on their way out of camp.

Kautsa dips a piece of buckskin into a bowl of water and wipes our faces. I close my eyes and let her hands move from my forehead to my chin. Then it all hits me, and I start to shake.

Eetsa sees me trembling and sits me down. She hands me a horn cup of cold water. But the pain in my limbs is nothing compared to the pain in my heart. What will happen to Kaya’s father and uncle and the horses? Will Little Girl be safe? Kaya hands me a bowl of hot salmon broth and I clutch it. She assures me the warriors will get the herd back.

Slowly, Kaya and I sip the hot broth. It feels good to feel the nourishing liquid spreading comfort throughout the body. I’m not a fan of fish, but I am grateful for it now. When I put down the bowl, my belly is full and my shaking has stopped. Speaking Rain combs out my braids and plaits them smooth again. Long Legs pads up to Kaya and leans against her side.

Then, the dog comes up to me. At first, I lean away. But then I remember what Kaya told me about listening to animals. So tentatively, I pet the dog’s head. Maybe he’s trying to comfort me. Slowly, I stroke him over and over. His ears are soft as the lamb’s ears I grow in my garden.

As the sun drops lower, we still have not heard anything. Kautsa settles herself close to us and tells us that when she was a child, the Nimíipuu didn’t have horses. Kaya’s mouth spreads into a small smile. Kautsa continues to say that they traveled everywhere on foot. Their dogs were big and strong and pulled the heavy loads. Scouts were swift as antelope when they ran to warn of danger. Kautsa explains that now, we ride faster and farther. But the warriors must fight to protect the horses, as they’re doing now.

The shadows grow longer and the sun is just a pink streak in the western sky when the hoofbeats of a galloping horse make us look up.