The Roar of the Falls: My Journey with Kaya

We see a young woman, named Rushing Brook, kneeling on the ground, holding a wailing baby. The woman explains that they were coming from the salmon drying racks when Little Branch started to cry. She’s burning with fever, her tiny face flushed and damp, her small fists clenched against the heat. Kaya calmly says they can come to her tepee while she fetches Bear Blanket, her steady voice cutting through Rushing Brook’s panic.

We help them into the tepee, and Bear Blanket comes before we know it. She says Little Branch needs medicine. She needs fresh juniper, which grows only on the flatlands. Kaya volunteers us to go get it. And we must go fast, otherwise the fever will get worse.

Kaya and I race up the path away from the falls, as the roar behind us grows softer and softer. The sun is hotter here, beating down on the back of my neck. Kaya’s pace is determined, so I am surprised when she stops suddenly in front of me. I ask what’s wrong. Kaya stands perfectly still, and quietly whispers it’s a bear. She demands that I don’t move a muscle.

My stomach drops. Somewhere close by, I hear the low huff of the animal’s breath. How can I hold still when every fiber of my being is telling me to run?