Book Excerpt for The Pi-a-saw Bird

The Pi-a-saw Bird – Extract

Richard Stooker

Cover graphic design by Drew at idrewdesign on Fiverr.com.

The right of Richard Stooker to be identified as the author of this book has been asserted in accordance with Sections 77 and 78 of the Copyrights and Patents Act 1988.

Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying, and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the author.

All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

The Pi-a-saw Bird

As we coasted along rocks frightful for their height and length, we saw a monster painted on one of the rocks, which startled us at first, and upon which the boldest Indian dare not gaze long. It is as large as a calf, with horns on the head like a deer, a frightful look, red eyes, bearded like a tiger, the face somewhat like a man’s, the body covered with scales, and the tail so long that it makes the turn of the body, passes over the head and down between the legs, ending at last in a fish’s tail. Green, red, and a kind of black are the colors employed.

— Excerpt from Pere Marquette’s journal of his voyage down the Mississippi River in 1673.

Chief Ouatoga crouched in the prairie grass on the bluff top. The night was moonless. In the dim starlight, he watched Laughing Moon, his daughter of sixteen summers, on the edge of the bluff. She was waiting for someone. The Father of Waters, the Mississippi River, flowed far below them.

Several nights ago Ouatoga had awakened and noticed she was gone from his hut. She didn’t return until late. When she sneaked away repeatedly, Ouatoga asked her where she went.

Laughing Moon had blushed, looked frightened and said, “Just for a walk.”

Ouatoga decided to investigate. If she was seeing a brave man who was worthy of her, Ouatoga didn’t mind. They could marry as quickly as possible. But he had to be sure.

A dark shape appeared on the edge of the bluff and lifted itself up silently to the top.

Ouatoga bunched his eyebrows together. Why did he climb the bluff face instead of just walking up the path from the village?

The man stood up and put his arms around Laughing Moon. She laughed softly. He bent his head towards her.

Ouatoga couldn’t stand any more. He knew now why Laughing Moon had looked frightened when he questioned her. The man was not an Illiniwek. He was an Osage, an enemy. Ouatoga quickly strung his bow and notched an arrow. He stood up.

“Get away,” he shouted to Laughing Moon.

He never imagined she’d disobey. Before this, she’d always been a good daughter. She’d always done what he’d told her. Seeing an Osage was wrong, but he felt sure she’d realize her mistake at once.

So when he shot he thought only of the intended target.

Ouatoga aimed at the man’s breast. He couldn’t miss at that range. But Laughing Moon didn’t jump away. She fell back against her lover. Her father’s stone arrowhead sliced through her throat. There was a spurt of dark red, and her eyes became dull and unmoving.

The Osage man didn’t cry out or reach for his bow. He only shot a look of hatred at Ouatoga. Then he picked Laughing Moon up in his arms gently. Before Ouatoga could shoot or even move again, the Osage walked slowly to the edge of the cliff and jumped off.

A long while later, Ouatoga forced himself to look down at the great river which was his only daughter’s burial mound. He had once thought he could throw all his troubles and worried into the water like a load of garbage, and the current would carry it away from him.

That was a bitter thought as he trudged back to the village.

Ouatoga’s tribe, the Illiniwek, lived in a small break in the high rocky bluffs lining the east side of the Mississippi. But at the spot the river jogged, running west to east. There was an abundance of fish, game, and fertile soil.

Ouatoga had led them well for many seasons. They had never suffered famine in his time, nor lost a battle. As far off as the great northern lakes, men trembled with fear at his name.

He had the strength of a man far younger than himself. His face was ploughed with scars, and with the deep lines of much worry. He had a wife named Wauniti and a son of twenty summers called Utim.

As a young chief, Ouatoga had once dreamed of the Great Spirit in the form of the rising sun. The next day he had had a picture of it tattooed on his back. Because of that, he knew the Great Spirit was always with him.

And until tonight he had never doubted it. Never thought he could stray from serving the Great Spirit. He’d always been happy. Always satisfied with how he governed the tribe. He’d killed only its enemies.

Now, for the first time he felt as though the sun tattoo on his back were sinking instead of rising.

After lying down on his sleeping mat, he had trouble keeping his eyes closed for long. And when he finally did, a nightmare came.

An awesome storm descended on the tribe. Chill rain fell in stinging torrents that tortured bare skin. Thunderclaps pounded and reverberated across the heavens. Jagged lightning bolts struck the prairie, setting fire to the dry grass on the hills nearby. The flames lit the cloud-darkened sky with a demonic glow, casting misshapen shadows across the horizon.

His people hid. But the fury found them wherever they took shelter. The tempest flattened their huts. The Father of Waters climbed out of its bed and rose higher and higher. Raging fires cut off their escape in back. Some tried to climb up the steep face of the bluffs, but were plucked off by the wind and thrown into the swirling river.

And everywhere Ouatoga looked, he saw the twisted, tortured face of Laughing Moon.

Ouatoga woke up sweating and shaking. He knew the dream had been sent by the Great Spirit to tell him a disaster was about to come to his people. And Ouatoga was helpless to stop it.

He was still worried and irritable the next morning. He didn’t know what to expect. He didn’t know what to say about Laughing Moon’s disappearance.

Dawn’s light was just beginning to appear downstream as he washed in the river along with several other men. The tribe’s women had gotten up earlier. They now collected fallen branches and stirred the coals of the fires to life. The children yelped and played games in the woods.

The far-off screeching grew audible gradually. A black speck appeared in the west over the river. It was a giant bird coming from upstream, flying faster than a hawk. Its cries were like thorns piercing the back of Ouatoga’s neck. Green scaly feathers covered its body. Red wings flapped with the sound of thunder. It had antlers like a deer, a fierce, frightening grimace, and long straggly hair on its chin. The tail was three times as long as its body, and ended in a fish’s fin. Large, sharp claws were outstretched as it flew directly towards the village.

Ouatoga was climbing up the riverbank as the bird approached. He threw himself on the ground, burying his face in the dust and clutching the roots of the grass as hard as he could.

There were screams of agony. Ouatoga raised his head and saw the bird carry Mugangout, a burly warrior, away in its talons.