Wabi by Joseph Bruchac

Author:Joseph Bruchac
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US

Run, he said. I ran swiftly from the village to the cedar tree just within the forest. I reached up into its branches to grasp the bundle that held the unstrung bow, the quiver, and the arrows. Then I returned to the place where the others still stood.

For some reason, the young men were all gaping at me. Some of the others gathered around were making gasping sounds. Others were saying such things as “Wah-hey,” and “Nanabi! So fast!”

Dojihla, though, was just looking at me in a way that made me feel uneasy. Had I just run a little too swiftly?

“Wabi,” Wowadam said, “are the others of your family as fast a runner as you?”

“No,” I said, answering quite truthfully. There was no way any owl could hop as fast as I had just run.

“Ah,” he said. Then he shook his head and turned his attention to the bundle I held. “May I see your weapon?”

I unwrapped the bow and held it out in front of me. As I did so I realized for the first time that it was larger and thicker than any of the bows held by the other young men.

“That is no bow,” said the young man next to me. “That is a tree.”

“A war club, more like,” said the next young man. “Perhaps he hunts by hitting animals over the head with it.”

All of the other suitors laughed, as did many of the people gathered around.

I was beginning to get used to this kind of teasing. I had listened often enough from the forest to such talk between humans, especially young human males, to know that it was meant both playfully and, sometimes, as a challenge.

It came to me then how I could respond. I turned toward the other young men and held out my unstrung bow.

“Here,” I said. “Would anyone like to try to string this?”

A large young man, a head shorter than me but a bit broader and with a face as round as that of the moon, was pushed forward by his friends.

“Go ahead, Wikadegwa,” one of them said.

“Bend it until it breaks, Fat Face,” said another.

Fat Face held out his hands and then smiled at me. It was a smile that showed no teeth. Somehow I knew that this smile was meant to say, I am only doing this because they are making me do it.

I smiled back and handed him the bow. He hefted it in his hands, then looped the string around one end, placed the other end of the bow against the ground, and leaned his back into it. The bow did not bend. Fat Face strained harder. Water began to pop out of his forehead in little bubbles. Was Fat Face’s head getting ready to explode?

“WHHHAAAAGGGH!” Fat Face blew the air out of his mouth and let go of the bow. He staggered back a step before regaining his balance.

“It cannot be done,” he said, handing me the bow. “No one can bend this. You are playing a joke on us all.

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