Revolt of the Perfectly Free by Kim Flowers

Author:Kim Flowers [Flowers, Kim]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Queerteen Press
Published: 2020-04-07T00:00:00+00:00

Strong Arrow’s Warpath

I needed to shave my head, but my shoulder burned from a gunshot wound attained almost two weeks ago. I stretched and felt my muscles loosen, sitting in the sleeping area I shared with my father, who was nowhere in sight. I had slept late; the sun was high in the sky. But now I pulled on my breechcloth and leggings, and was determined to remove the hair I didn’t want. As I watched myself in a looking glass, I had to admit using a straight razor was easier than plucking out the hairs individually as some warriors did. When I was finished, my shoulder aching, I raised my Mohawk high with bear grease.

Leaving home for a week on an ocean voyage had probably done my injury good, however, because I had opportunity to rest. Had I stayed home, I would have felt obligated to keep my normal hunting routine at the least. And we still had the prospect of war hanging over our heads to prepare for. As it was, I did engage in battle aboard the ship where we found our friend Nadine’s mother and little brother. Every launch of an arrow, every knife thrown, was a horrible stab of pain for me. But there was no doubt that it was necessary to aid the slave revolt we’d happened into.

Sometimes it is easy to know which side to be on. But I have also learned that other times it is very difficult.

I walked to the front entrance of our longhouse…all the other rooms were empty. My uncle, aunt, father, and sisters with their husbands and children would probably be home to prepare for the evening meal soon, judging by the late afternoon sky. Grandfather sat out front, wrapped in a thick blanket despite the warm spring day.

“Hello, Grandfather,” I said in Algonquin, glad for an excuse to sit down and rest beside him.

“Good evening, Strong Arrow. How’s your shoulder?” He knew English, but most of the time refused to speak it.

“It burns, but feels better than last week.”

He grunted, his familiar wrinkled face turned to me, squinted eyes examining my bare chest. “Somehow you managed to get shot in an area not covered by tattoos. Don’t cover up that scar, it’s an important reminder of your victory. Show it to those white men—”

“Grandfather.”

He grunted again. “We’re about to go to war…just like when I was a young man. The time of peace is over, all because of white men. I wish they had never come to these borders.”

I sighed and sat straighter, attempting to ease the pressure of my healing wound. Just as there were some white men who thought all of us Lenape were heathens, my Grandfather was one of those who thought all white men were brutes.

“They ransacked the land, raping Earth Mother, changing our ways, and now…” He turned away so I wouldn’t see his tears.

It was very, very difficult for me to know what to think or do sometimes. My lover Spirit

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