Dance of the Returned by Devon A. Mihesuah

Author:Devon A. Mihesuah [Mihesuah, Devon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC059000 FICTION / Indigenous, FIC009050 FICTION / Fantasy / Paranormal
Publisher: University of Arizona Press

14

Kanali

Moving

Monique found another thick patch of soft clover. She stepped into the greenery and felt a slight depression. She preferred to sleep on her side—this small hollow would accommodate her hip. There were no sticks or brambles and, even better, no poison ivy or oak. She’d have to go without a pillow. Insects buzzed around and, once again, she wondered about chiggers. No one in the group had mentioned the insects’ dreaded bites. She had long ago given up sitting in grass in her normal life, even on a picnic blanket.

Intermittent cool breezes swept through the still night, but none cold enough to cause her to shiver. Still, she wished for socks. She wondered what Robbie and Steve were doing. Probably eating pizza or spaghetti. They would expect her home tomorrow. Four days of dancing plus one day before and one day after the dance. If she didn’t return, Steve would drive to Leroy’s and demand answers. All I have to do is deal with this another night. That thought made her smile. She could do it. Easy-peasy.

Monique listened to the far-off howls of wolves to the west and the shriller coyote sounds in the north. She brought her knees in closer. The secure fetal position. What were the dancers supposed to be doing out here? What did eating bison have to do with “renewal”? Leroy should have given them instructions. Unless he showed up in the next few minutes, Monique knew she would not get any answers that night. She listened to the feral sounds and the gentle breeze, then forced her mind to shut down.

“Rice-A-Roni,” Larry muttered softly.

“Fuck a duck,” someone else said. “God, enough of the sticks in my back, my ass, my ear,” the voice continued. It was Art.

She opened her eyes. The sun had not yet cleared the trees. A quick perusal of the camp told her the others were awake but still prone and thinking.

“What’s for breakfast?” Larry asked.

“Same thing you had for dinner,” John answered.

“It’s in the trees.” Art added. “I need something different.”

“Same here,” Grace said.

The only ones who did not complain of either stomach upset or constipation were Rene and Fuji. Rene never whined and Fuji could consume almost anything.

“Then pick dandelions and lamb’s-quarters,” John suggested. “Or find onions. Catch a goose. What do want us to say?”

“Don’t get your panties in a wad,” Art said.

“I’m not wearing any.”

“What can I use to brush my hair?” Grace asked.

“Your fingers,” Monique said.

“I have a million tangles,” she said, panting. “I need a comb.”

Monique did not reply. Instead, she sat up and wove her fingers through her own tangled mess. The knots at the nape of her neck could make her panic. Once, in elementary school, she fell asleep with gum in her mouth. The wad fell out during the night and as she rolled over, the gum and hair combined to form a mesh akin to a sparrow’s nest. Her mom removed it with scissors and left behind a bald spot on the back of her head.

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