The Roar of the Falls: My Journey with Kaya

I suggest that maybe we can lead her back. But the filly stumbles on the first step, favoring her injured leg. There’s no way she can make it back to camp. I can’t stand the idea of leaving her. Kaya looks quickly at the setting sun and says we’ll need to stay. It’s the only way to make sure she’ll survive the night. The wind blows, cold against my skin, and I shiver. The land feels so big and empty in the fading light.

Kaya says the first thing we’ll need is fire. It’ll provide warmth and light, and keep away the wolves. I gulp. Kaya takes a small bone knife out of her pouch, sharpens a stick, and gathers some dried leaves, moving with a calm sureness that steadies my own nerves. She builds a fire, without a single match in sight, by spinning the pointy stick in a hole in another branch, her palms rubbing back and forth until a thin curl of smoke rises. Kaya instructs me to get some yarrow leaves for a poultice to treat Little Girl’s leg.

Finally, I feel confident I can do something, glad to have a task that keeps my hands busy and my mind off my fear. I recognize the fine, feathery leaves and the lacy white flowers in the glow of the fire’s dancing light. Now, Kaya says it’s time to quickly build a shelter before it’s completely dark. I wet the leaves with water from Kaya’s drinking pouch and gently wrap them around the filly’s injured leg as Kaya arranges branches into a tent-like shelter. It’s just big enough for the two of us to crawl into and lie down. The sky turns red-gold, then light purple, then deeper purple. Howls rise from somewhere not too far away.

Kaya assures me it’s just coyotes that won’t bother us. She continues to cut branches and builds up the fire, and we settle in front of it, close enough to feel its heat on our faces. The filly lies nearby. Kaya pulls out a piece of pemmican. I wasn’t interested in trying pemmican earlier, but now I am starving, so I take a tiny bite. It tastes like fish, which I’m not a fan of, but I’m glad we have something to eat.

It’s incredible. We had nothing, and yet Kaya managed to make a home for us in the space of an hour. We have a house, a fire, and food—all from things that were around us. All of earth, these plants, and animals are Kaya’s home. The filly snuffles and sighs near the shelter, settling deeper into the grass. Kaya and I watch the fire burn slowly down to glowing coals before we crawl into the shelter to sleep. And I don’t feel quite as scared as I thought I would.