Poem: "That Big Booming Drum"
Sep. 27th, 2022 08:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ysabetwordsmithThis poem is spillover from the August 16, 2022 Poetry Fishbowl. It was inspired by a prompt from readera. It also fills the "Capes" square in my 8-1-22 card for the Reel Time Bingo fest. This poem has been sponsored by a pool with ng_moonmoth. It belongs to the Shiv thread of the Polychrome Heroics series.
"That Big Booming Drum"
Shiv bounced in his seat,
peering eagerly through
the windows of the truck.
He'd never been out this way
before, and it was interesting.
Boss White didn't scold him for
fidgeting, either, which was nice.
Entering Omaha Indian Reservation,
read the green sign by the road.
Around them the land spread out
in low rolling hills of green, gold, and
brown depending on whether or not
the crops had been harvested yet.
The unripe fields looked like corduroy
with neat rows of whatever-it-was.
Some of the others had big rolls
of hay lying on top of the stubble.
Homesteads dotted the landscape
with clusters of trees, and a ribbon of
bushy green followed the line of a creek.
Here and there, Shiv could see the glint
of water between the overhanging trees.
"All right, we're comin' up on town,"
Boss White said. "What'd I tell you
about cape politics at the powwow?"
"Not to get into any," Shiv recited.
"The tribes don't really do, like,
superheroes or supervillains. And
don't sass the tribal warriors 'cause
they're kinda like cops, even though
the tribe has their own cops too."
"That's right," said Boss White.
"Folks here don't exactly count
superpowers the same way either.
You might hear them say 'medicine'
or 'strong medicine' or 'big medicine'
instead, and that's for superpowers
plus some stuff we might not count."
"Fine by me, boss, I'm just the muscle,"
Shiv said, watching a herd of horses
canter uphill away from the trucks.
Half of them had pretty white spots.
"No you ain't, and that's why you're
up here with me instead of riding
in the van with the other boys,"
said Boss White. "I need a liaison
and you need something to do
other than make fresh trouble,
so we're gonna try this out."
"Like ... sending me around
with messages for the Hispanics?"
Shiv said. "Cause that's new too."
"Something like that," said Boss White.
"I think you'll enjoy this, and I don't
have anyone else who's a good fit.
I'm too busy to get up here as
often as I'd like to visit myself."
"Okay, boss," said Shiv. "I
don't know what it's all about,
but I'll follow along as best I can."
"That's all I ask," said Boss White.
"Here, this is the first place you need
to know." One finger lifted away from
the steering wheel to point. "Remember
when I showed you this on the map?"
"Yellow Smoke Park," Shiv read
on the sign. "It's our fallback position
in case Omaha gets overrun, 'cause it's
easy to find but there's nothing to bust."
"Ayup, they use this for dirt bikes,
off-road vehicles, and other rough stuff,"
said Boss White. "Just make a note in
your head, where this is. The powwow
is further in town at the Arena Park."
He drove around Macy a little,
pointing out this and that as they
went through the small town.
Then something snagged
Shiv's attention as they passed
the Social Services Building.
"Sheesh, boss, this place needs
a permission wall," Shiv said.
"Some toy tagged the mosaic."
He could understand slashing
the sign, because who didn't
hate social services? But
the mosaic was pretty, with
people sitting around a drum
and a couple more dancing.
Tagging a blank wall or a sign
was normal, but on a nice piece
it hinted at something bad wrong.
Boss White sighed. "This place
isn't as healthy as it could be."
Shiv looked around, searching
for more signs of trouble.
Yeah, it was dirt-poor,
literally in some places
where a driveway just led
to a bare patch of earth.
A few buildings were new,
but most were older, shabby.
It made Shiv feel sad, and he
didn't know why -- wasn't like
he had friends around here.
"You doin' anything about it?"
Shiv wondered, since Boss White
helped keep North Omaha from
totally falling down the sewer.
"I do what I can," Boss White said.
"All right, here's Pow-Wow Drive,
help me look for a place to park."
The narrow road looped around
a park, and the whole area
was crammed with cars.
One long stretch was
all campers and such.
"There," Shiv said, pointing.
"That should be big enough
to hold both vehicles."
As soon as Boss White
parked, he and Shiv
hopped out of the truck.
The van pulled up, and
more guys spilled out.
Popgun was already
whining about something,
but Faster Blaster looked
happy enough to be there,
and so did the other folks.
Shiv had been cooped up at
Blues Moon much of the time,
to keep him out of trouble,
but that just made him antsy.
Getting to come out here
was sooo much better.
The air was hot and dusty,
but full of fascinating smells.
Something thumped in the distance,
unfamiliar but compelling. "Hey, boss,
what's that sound?" Shiv asked.
"That's the Drum," said Boss White.
"Come on, the Blanket Dance will
start in half an hour. You and I
got something to do before then.
The rest of you boys, meet us
at the arena no later than that."
Shiv trotted along beside him, and
the sound got louder and louder.
He listened to the powwow music.
There was something in the energy
of that big booming drum, in the intensity
of the singing, that felt specifically Indian.
Shiv liked the raw, rising power in
the sound of a chorus of voices, too,
those high-pitched wailed harmonies,
how he couldn't tell how many singers
there were, and how sometimes it
sounded like just ten singers,
other times like a hundred.
Boss White led the way to
a big tipi decorated with
handprints, triangles, and
tall painted cornstalks.
In front of it stood
a little girl wearing
a dress printed with
sunflowers and hung
with long metal cones
that jingled as she moved.
"Good morning, Sunflower Girl,"
said Boss White. "Please tell
Smoking Breath that I'm here
to see him if he has time to visit."
She darted into the tipi, only
to reappear a minute later.
"Grandfather will see you
right away," she announced.
That was the tiniest secretary
Shiv had ever seen, but she
was already good at her job.
Then again, maybe she was
a scout for the bodyguards.
He had no doubt that if she
yelled, big burly men would
come bursting out of the bushes
to deal with whatever the trouble was.
Shiv followed Boss White, ducking
through the low oval door of the tipi.
Inside was pleasantly dim and
cooler than he expected, the walls
muffling the outside noise some.
Boss White shook hands with
an older man whose long hair was
black at the tips but gray up top.
He wore creamy leathers with fringe,
a whole bunch of necklaces, and
big earrings with nested hoops.
Something about the man
reminded Shiv a little bit of
Boss White and a lot of Rosie.
There was a sort of energy
about him, but it was warm and
calm in a way that made Shiv
want to sprawl out and soak
in it like it was a sunbeam.
"Smoking Breath, it's so good
to see you again," said Boss White.
"This is my boy Shiv, who I'm hoping
will take to this place. Shiv, this is
Smoking Breath, the shaman of
the Omaha Indian Reservation."
"Pleased to meet you, boss,"
Shiv said, dusting off the manners
that Boss White had knocked into him.
"I like the music that you have here."
"Well, you're a sharp one, aren't
you, little lynx?" said Smoking Breath.
"I uh, like sharp things," Shiv admitted.
"We came up for the powwow, figured
now would be a good time to mingle,"
said Boss White. "Any trouble we
ought to be aware of today?"
"The Iron Horses are here,"
said Smoking Breath, and
that made Shiv wince.
They'd been in the fight
that landed him in prison.
"They liable to cause problems?"
Boss White said, frowning.
"Better not, I warned them all
to behave," said Smoking Breath.
"You know how wild young things
are, though. I'm sorry that they
stepped on your robe this spring."
"Don't worry about that, they
didn't know it was my Business,"
Boss White said, waving a hand.
Something barreled into Shiv
from behind and squeezed him,
making him hiss and stiffen.
"Hi!" piped a voice. "I like you.
I'm glad that you're going
to be our new messenger.
You're so full of power!"
Smoking Breath sighed.
"Winter Cricket, please
let go of our guest."
Shiv finally got a look
at a tiny girl with big eyes
and long black hair over
a floppy burgundy shirt.
She bounced on her toes
like a little ball of energy.
She really, really reminded
him of Edison Finn somehow.
"What did I tell you about
reading people out loud?"
Smoking Breath asked her.
"Not to do it," she said.
"Because?" he pressed.
"It can hurt people to tell
them things they aren't ready
to know yet," said Winter Cricket.
"But how can he not know? He's
so strong and so shiny and look
at how his little claws come out!"
Startled, Shiv glanced down,
and yeah, he had moved
the slivers of metal out from
under his fingernails a bit.
But he wasn't sure that
was quite what she meant.
"I'm sorry," said Smoking Breath.
"Winter Cricket is very young. She
has a shaman's sight, but not yet
the discretion that should go with it."
Shiv thought about complaining,
because he hated hugs and hated
being surprised even more.
But she was so small and
so cute and chewing her out
would be like kicking a kitten.
Plus he didn't want to be
the cause of someone having
to sit out at a fair, because
that had been him too often.
He tried to think what Dr. G
would do and what things
usually worked with Edison.
"It's ... fine," Shiv said instead.
"She minds me of another kid
I know." Then he crouched
down. "But hey, Winter Cricket?"
"Yes?" she said, bouncing.
"Don't pounce on people
like that," Shiv said. "Some
of us are ... kinda jumpy, and
people can get hurt that way."
"Okay," she said. "I'm sorry
that I scared you like that."
Then she scampered away.
"I love that child with all of
my heart, but I declare she
has no brakes on her mouth,"
Smoking Breath muttered.
"Hell, neither have I
most of the time,"
Shiv pointed out,
making Boss White
laugh in agreement.
"You'll do, you'll do,"
Smoking Breath said.
"Go enjoy the powwow."
Shiv was surprised to find
that he liked the approval.
"Thanks," he said. "It
sure sounds like fun."
Boss White checked
his vidwatch. "We better
get to the blanket dance."
He led the way toward
the arena, and again Shiv
could hear the booming drum.
The other guys were there,
already waiting for them.
In the center, people were
swirling around a space that
had four blankets laid out.
"All right, Shiv, you're up,"
said Boss White. "Hop to it."
"But I dunno how to dance!"
Shiv squeaked, leaning away.
"You don't need to know the steps,"
said Boss White. "Just go around
four times, and each time, throw
money on one of the blankets
laid out at the four points."
He held out a hand. Shiv
took the bills folded into
squares, so you couldn't
see how much it was.
"This dance is for the Drum,
that's the guys playing music,
like a tip," Boss White explained.
"Oh, okay," Shiv said. Suddenly
it seemed a lot more familiar. He
was used to tipping musicians.
And what the heck, he'd been
walking in time with the beat
since he got out of the truck.
He could do this, yeah.
Shiv joined the trickle of
folks heading into the dance.
Some of them wore costumes of
fur and feathers in fabulous colors.
Others wore T-shirts and shorts.
Some of them were dancing,
hopping, twirling as they went.
Others were just walking.
Shiv listened to the drum,
how it almost seemed to say,
come-come-come-COME.
He watched the other dancers,
how they bobbed up and down.
They moved lightly on their toes
with a springy step that matched
the rhythm of the big drum.
Okay, he could do that, at least
a little bit, so he didn't stick out.
Shiv slipped himself into the dance,
made the first loop, and tossed
a square onto the red blanket.
Then he almost tripped over
someone, and it took him
a second to figure out that
the people around him had
expected him to step out.
But Boss White had said
to go around the circle
four times, hadn't he?
Shiv squeezed his hand
around the cash that
he still had left in it.
Yeah, four squares
for the four blankets,
with three of them left.
Then he noticed that
the Omaha folks were
circling around and around,
while the white folks were
throwing once and leaving.
Yep. He'd been taken for
white again, and Shiv felt
pretty sure that wasn't
any more of a compliment
here than it was at home.
Well, fuck it. He'd finish
like Boss White told him.
Shiv paid closer attention
to the dancers around him,
trying to figure out how they
moved together so well and
didn't crash into each other
when it wasn't anything like
the line-dance folk stuff
that he'd seen in the past.
By the time he had dropped
the last bill on the blue blanket,
people were smiling at him.
Okay, that was just ... weird.
Shiv ducked out of the circle
and hurried back to Boss White.
"Did I do that right?" he said.
"Cause I almost got stepped on."
"You did fine," said Boss White.
"Ever notice how things in
fairy tales happen in threes?"
"I guess," said Shiv, who hadn't
heard many, but liked Disney movies.
"That's a European thing, and they
brought it to America," said Boss White.
"But most tribes do things in fours."
It took a minute for the penny
to drop. "Oh!" Shiv said. "It's
so they know we ain't white."
"Exactly," said Boss White.
"They got fucked over just as
much as the African folks did,
they got reasons to distrust
Whitey same as we do. This
is how we show them that
we ain't with The Man."
"That's real clever, boss,"
Shiv said. "So now what?"
"Now we spread the dough
around more," Boss White said.
He handed each gang member
a wad of cash. "You go spend
all of that. Don't dump it all in
one place. You don't have to buy
food unless you just want to, I'm
paying for everyone's eats today."
"Gee, thanks," said Shiv. Dymin
had tried to explain 'budget' to him,
but she might as well have been
speaking Greek because it all
went in one ear and out the other.
Getting a wad to spend without
instructions sounded like fun.
"We'll start with the food, then,"
said Boss White. "Come on."
Shiv beelined for the food booths,
eagerly sniffing the air for ideas.
"Do I smell donuts? I smell
donuts!" he said, bouncing from
one foot to the other. "Boss,
can I have donuts for lunch?"
"That ain't donuts, that's
frybread, and yes you can
have some," said Boss White.
The booth advertised not only
frybread but also Indian tacos,
whatever that actually meant.
"It smells good, but if it's
not donuts, then what is it?"
Shiv wondered, sniffing.
"Frybread is fried dough,
like a donut but less sweet,"
said Boss White. "You can
have it plain. With ground meat
and veggies on top of it, that's
an Indian taco. It also comes
with powdered sugar or fruit.
We'll get some of each kind."
Shiv was hungry enough
to eat that much, yeah.
It turned out to be
really good stuff.
The plain tasted
a lot like a donut that
wasn't too sweet, and
the one with meat on it
did taste kind of like a taco,
but a little bit different too.
"What is this?" Shiv said,
poking at the ground meat.
"That's buffalo, it's like beef
but sweeter," said Boss White.
"I like it," Shiv said. He didn't
even pick off the vegetables.
He wasn't sure what kind of
tomato that was, but it tasted
way better than the store kind.
The powdered sugar one was
pretty much like a funnel cake
that didn't go in squiggles, and
the fruit one had mulberries.
Shiv licked his fingers. "Thanks,
boss, this was amazing," he said.
"You're welcome," said Boss White.
"Go on, now, you got shopping to do."
Shiv scampered off. He rarely got
a chance to explore anything like
a fair by himself, instead of getting
dragged along by someone else.
For some reason, this didn't feel
as confusing or overwhelming as
crowds usually did. Maybe because
Shiv could do whatever he wanted.
It was a little like the graffiti festival
that Dr. G had taken him to earlier.
Shiv wandered along the booths,
looking at what they had to sell.
Some of it was junk. A lot of it
was jewelry, which he didn't need.
There was a T-shirt booth, however,
and he sure needed clothes since
almost none of his old stuff still fit.
One rack had activist T-shirts,
which were funny but didn't
really apply to Shiv himself.
He found a soft gray one,
though, with a picture of
a person who had feathers
and beads in long black hair.
He couldn't tell for sure if
it was a girl or a guy, and
he kind of liked that about it.
The caption read, They
told me I was different.
Best compliment ever.
Now that sure fit him.
Shiv draped it over his arm
and then kept on browsing.
Another rack held T-shirts
that mostly showed animals.
He spotted one in marbled blue
with a fluffy tan lynx on the front.
That was awesome because it
would match all the pants he had.
Shiv bought both of the T-shirts
and moved on down the line.
Another booth had some
of those southwestern rugs.
Shiv found one that had
jagged patterns on it in
blue, black, gray, and white.
He ran a hand over it. Wool.
That'd make a nice rug for
his kitchen, so he bought it.
Shiv didn't want to keep
carrying stuff around, so he
headed back to the truck.
The other guys were there,
too, along with Boss White.
"Can we play stickball, boss?"
Popgun asked. "We got
challenged to a game,
with really good stakes."
"Well, it's your hide,"
said Boss White. Then
he turned to Shiv. "You
want in on this nonsense?
Stickball's a rough game."
Shiv shook his head.
"I don't like being hit."
"More fun for us, then,"
Popgun said, walking away.
"Are you having fun? Finding
things to buy?" said Boss White.
"Yeah, I found enough stuff
that I want to put it in the truck,"
Shiv said. "The wool rug's hot.
I got a couple of T-shirts too."
"Good job," Boss White said,
opening the truck so Shiv could
put away the things he'd bought.
"How's the money holding out?"
"Still got plenty left," said Shiv.
"I'll head back to the booths now."
He drifted past jewelry and
more jewelry, someone selling
tooled leather belts, a booth
full of beads and junk, then
finally spotted something cool.
This one had rocks spread out
on tarps. Some were broken hunks,
others smooth round cobblestones.
One bunch felt almost like glass.
Nearby, another guy had set up
a little camp with a sign that
read, Steve Broken Stone
Traditional Skills and Crafts
Flint Knapping -- Arrow Making --
Fire Starting -- Wilderness Skills.
He had a piece of leather over
one knee, whacking away at it
with another rock. More tools
spread out around his workspace,
including pieces of antler and what
looked like part of a screwdriver.
Shiv was fascinated. Apparently
the rocks being sold were meant
for making tools if you hit them right.
He watched the rock seller trying
to trim a piece of leather with
a knife that was obviously dull.
"Want me to sharpen that?"
Shiv offered. "I can make it
stay as sharp as you want it."
The man looked up. "How?"
"Like this." Shiv tossed
his play-putty in the air
and shaped it, then let it
drop back into his hand.
"Do that and you can have
as many rocks as you can
carry," the seller offered.
"How about a bucket full,"
Shiv said, because he'd been
working out and could probably
carry more than he could store.
"Deal," the man said, and
passed the knife to him.
Shiv sharpened it, then
swiped it through the leather,
which parted like it was paper.
"Impressive," said the man.
"Pick out your rocks. You can
have flint, agate, obsidian --
whatever you want here."
Shiv picked mostly flint.
He kinda hated to break
anything as pretty as agate,
and he could get glass anywhere.
Then he plopped himself down
in the grass to watch Steve making
tiny, razor-sharp arrowheads.
When Shiv thought he had
the hang of it, he picked up
one of his rocks and started
trying to mold it into shape.
That didn't work at all.
Flint wouldn't push around
like metal. His superpower
just knocked chips off it.
They had funny little ridges,
like half-circles, with sharp edges.
They didn't look anything like
Steve's arrowheads, though.
"What in the world are you
doing?" Steve asked him.
"Trying to copy you,"
Shiv muttered, pushing
at the stone with a thumb.
"Tch. No. Not like that,"
Steve scolded gently. "Flint
doesn't break that way. You
need to work along the edges."
"I have superpowers," Shiv said.
"I don't need tools to work it."
"Well, that explains a lot,"
said Steve. "Can you feel
what the stone wants to be?"
"A pain in my ass?" Shiv said.
Steve laughed. "No, no, it just
has certain ways that it breaks.
You can't make it do anything
that it doesn't want to do. You
have to work with the stone."
He picked up a different piece
and showed Shiv how to start
from scratch, knocking off a flake
and then carefully shaping it.
Shiv tried again to copy what
Steve was doing so gracefully.
He was pretty terrible at it. Shiv
could feel that this was going
to take sooo much practice.
But it was incredible fun.
By the time Shiv had
roughed out something
that might be considered
an arrowhead if you squinted,
he was tired and ravenous.
"Thanks for the lesson,"
he said as he got up,
and Steve nodded.
"You are diligent; you
will learn," Steve said.
Shiv lugged the bucket
of rocks back to the truck.
Then he went looking
for something else to eat.
He found a booth selling
salmon pemmican, which
smelled like smoke and fish.
Only trouble was, it was
run by one of the guys
Shiv had tangled with
in spring -- Iron Horses.
Shiv hesitated, fidgeting.
On the one hand, he really
wanted that fish. On the other,
he didn't want his ass kicked.
But the big guy just looked at
him and beckoned him forward.
Maybe they would mind what
Smoking Breath had said
about not making trouble.
Shiv inched forward.
The salmon pemmican
was dollar a piece, done up
in little thumb-sized sausages.
He bought one and took a nibble.
It was amazing. It was better than
the salmon cheeseball thing that
he'd hogged at a party once.
"Can I get, like, a whole string
of those?" he said hopefully.
"That's three hundred calories
per piece, so it adds up fast,"
the big man pointed out.
Shiv counted laboriously
on his fingers. "Then I need,
uh, three or four to make up
for what I just burned."
The seller cut three from
an open string, then handed
Shiv an uncut string too.
"Thanks," Shiv said.
"This stuff is wonderful."
They had a snack box
in the truck. He could
stash the rest in there.
But he ate the loose ones
on the way back to do that.
By then, Shiv had spent
most of what Boss White
had given him, so he drifted
around the powwow just
watching the activities.
There was what sounded
like a pretty cool fight, but
he missed seeing that and
only heard about it from
others who had been there.
Shiv got to see more of
the dancing, though, with
girls wearing actual capes
as part of fanciful costumes.
They were every color of
the rainbow, with long fringe
made of glossy ribbons.
The girls bounded around
the arena, twirling in place,
moving their capes like wings
as they danced so lightly that
they hardly seemed to touch
the ground beneath their feet.
It looked really hard to do,
and Shiv was impressed.
He even got to see
Sunflower Girl along
with some others doing
the jingle dress dance.
That one seemed to be
all about making as
much noise as possible,
but Shiv liked the sound.
He wondered if they sold
recordings of it. That stuff
ought to irritate the crap
out of people who tried
to make him be quiet.
Then Shiv spotted some
of his gangmates, and so
he headed toward them.
They looked pretty beat up.
Several of them were limping.
Popgun had a bloody nose and
one arm braced in a splint, but
he looked very proud of himself.
"Hey Boss, look what we won!"
Popgun said, jerking a thumb
over his shoulder. Behind him,
several folks herded a buffalo.
"And what are you going to do
with that?" Boss White drawled.
"It's good eatin', boss! We'll
hand it over to the girls to clean,"
Popgun replied. "Someone said
they'd turn it into burger and stuff
for us, if we swapped 'em the hide
and bones that we don't need."
"Ayup, that's a fair deal,"
said Boss White. "Go on."
"Could I help?" Shiv said.
"I been a few places where
people hunted, or that one farm,
but I never butchered anything
that big before. Cook says
I'm good in the kitchen."
He could keep the knives
sharp and everything, wasn't
fussed about a little blood or
dead things, and liked food
enough to work hard at
putting it on the table.
"You can ask, but it's
up to the women if they
want your help or not,"
said Boss White. "Go
wash up first, though."
Shiv knew that much.
He hurried to the johns, but
of course there was a line.
By the time he found out
where they were butchering
the prize, they'd already killed
the buffalo and strung it up.
"Hi, I'm Shiv," he said tentatively.
"Could I help with this? I got
some experience butchering,
but nothing this big yet."
One old granny looked him
up and down like he was
a side of beef that she
meant to start cooking.
Shiv stood straight and
tried not to look useless.
"I'm Mary Good Fingers,"
she replied. "Are you
any use with a knife?"
Shiv grinned and
tossed his in the air,
twirling it with his power.
He wasn't sure why he
felt more free about using
his superpowers here. It
just felt ... safer, somehow,
than most places he'd been.
"Big medicine!" Mary said.
"Yes, come, you can help.
Grab an apron over there."
Those were heavy canvas
and big enough to cover
almost all of Shiv's clothes,
so he hurried to put one on.
Several women were already
clustered around the carcass,
cleaning the insides out of it.
They were muttering, or
maybe it was singing, in
some language that
Shiv didn't recognize.
"What are they saying?"
he wondered, listening.
"They're thanking the buffalo
for feeding us," Mary said.
"Thanking the buffalo?"
Shiv said, fascinated.
Before, he'd only ever
heard people praying
to whatever god ran
the church of the week.
This made so much
more sense to him.
Shiv leaned over and
patted the coarse fur.
"Thanks, buffalo," he said.
"I'm sure you taste real good."
Mary and the other women
murmured approval at that.
Weird. But kinda good weird.
It took everyone working
together to peel away
the huge, heavy hide.
Several of the women
staked it down to start
scraping the flesh off
the inside of the skin.
"It will need to be cured
later," said Mary, "but that's
easier if it's fleshed well first."
Shiv watched the process,
curious, as other people
rinsed off the carcass.
Some of the women
used seashells to scrape
the hide, while others
had old, worn knives.
One girl said, "This
is getting too dull
to do any good. I
need a new shell."
"I could sharpen it?"
Shiv said. "If you
show me another
as sharp as you like?"
They showed him
the new shells, and he
sharpened the old one.
The carcass team was
starting to break down
the buffalo into sections,
which the women then
handed off to other folks
to divide into actual cuts.
Shiv got a real good lesson
on buffalo cuts, which were
pretty much like the beef cuts
on a poster that Cook had
hanging in the kitchen.
Knife skills made Shiv
popular with the women,
since he could cut clean
with a steady hand.
Plus his superpower let
him get all the meat off
the bones, or slice hunks
into paper-thin leaves
to be dried and smoked.
However, working around
so many other folks was
harder for him to manage.
It took a little while to get
the rhythm of it, but then Shiv
realized that everyone else
was working to the beat of
that big booming drum.
After that it got easier
to guess when they
were going to move,
so he could fit himself
into the space better.
As they cut down the meat,
some women formed up
a packing team, wrapping
the steaks and such in paper,
then layering them with ice
inside of the big coolers.
When they got down to
the bones, people started
talking about who got what.
The meat was going to
the stickball team, of course,
but they would share that
with the rest of the gang.
"Will they want the liver
and other organ meats?"
Mary asked. "White people
usually don't, but these
weren't all white men."
"Oh yeah, if it's edible,
they'll eat it," said Shiv.
"Our restaurant serves
soul food. Cook can use
everything but the moo."
"Good, good," said Mary,
and into a cooler went
the liver, heart, and
other organ meats.
Mary and her sister
claimed the shaggy hide.
Someone wanted some of
the smaller bones for making
stock; someone else wanted
the hooves and scraps for glue.
"What about you, Shiv?"
said Mary. "You worked
hard, pick something good."
"I can work bone, if it's hard
enough," Shiv mused. "Maybe
one of the big heavy bones?
I saw some people carving
stuff like that. I could make
a lamp or something."
"Nobody has asked for
the skull yet," said Mary.
"Would that work for you?"
Shiv looked over at
the hideous red thing,
scraped mostly clean
but still pretty gross.
A skull would be hollow;
he could put a light in it,
if he could figure out how
to rig the wiring and stuff.
"Yeah, I think it would,"
said Shiv. "I dunno how
to clean it any better
than it is now, though."
"All the carving bones
can be cleaned together,
and the skull sent to
you after it has been
cleaned," Mary said.
"Yeah, that'll work,
thank you," said Shiv.
With so many hands,
it didn't take long for them
to process to whole buffalo
and pack everything away.
Shiv looked forward to getting
some of the meat, because
the guys would share it.
He had really liked
the Indian taco earlier.
As the first people finished,
they set up a wash station
where people could take off
their aprons and clean up.
Shiv took his turn at
the wash, soaping up
his arms and even
ducking his head
under the stream.
He tossed back
wet hair, dragging
a hand through it.
Yeah, that felt better
after the messy work.
Following the line,
Shiv came to where
Mary was waving
smoke over people.
Shiv sniffed. It wasn't
like that skanky incense
that the flakes burned.
It smelled almost familiar,
but not quite, thick and
blue and kinda tickly.
"What is this stuff?"
Shiv wondered, curious.
"The smudge is made
of sage and sweetgrass
tied together," Mary said.
Shiv thought about that.
"So the sweetgrass is
what smells like vanilla?"
"Yes, exactly," said Mary.
"Sage makes everything
clean, and sweetgrass
welcomes good spirits."
"I'm smooth with that,"
Shiv said, stepping up
to take his turn at it.
She waved the smoke
over him with a neat fan
that looked like it was made
out of a whole bird's wing.
Everything seemed
bright and fresh and
clean all of a sudden.
Mary patted him on
the shoulder, and Shiv
managed not to dodge
away from the contact.
"You're a good worker,"
she said. "I hope that we'll
see you again some time."
"Yeah, I hope so too,"
Shiv said with a grin.
* * *
Notes:
This poem is long, so its character, setting, and content notes appear separately.
readera. It also fills the "Capes" square in my 8-1-22 card for the Reel Time Bingo fest. This poem has been sponsored by a pool with ng_moonmoth. It belongs to the Shiv thread of the Polychrome Heroics series."That Big Booming Drum"
Shiv bounced in his seat,
peering eagerly through
the windows of the truck.
He'd never been out this way
before, and it was interesting.
Boss White didn't scold him for
fidgeting, either, which was nice.
Entering Omaha Indian Reservation,
read the green sign by the road.
Around them the land spread out
in low rolling hills of green, gold, and
brown depending on whether or not
the crops had been harvested yet.
The unripe fields looked like corduroy
with neat rows of whatever-it-was.
Some of the others had big rolls
of hay lying on top of the stubble.
Homesteads dotted the landscape
with clusters of trees, and a ribbon of
bushy green followed the line of a creek.
Here and there, Shiv could see the glint
of water between the overhanging trees.
"All right, we're comin' up on town,"
Boss White said. "What'd I tell you
about cape politics at the powwow?"
"Not to get into any," Shiv recited.
"The tribes don't really do, like,
superheroes or supervillains. And
don't sass the tribal warriors 'cause
they're kinda like cops, even though
the tribe has their own cops too."
"That's right," said Boss White.
"Folks here don't exactly count
superpowers the same way either.
You might hear them say 'medicine'
or 'strong medicine' or 'big medicine'
instead, and that's for superpowers
plus some stuff we might not count."
"Fine by me, boss, I'm just the muscle,"
Shiv said, watching a herd of horses
canter uphill away from the trucks.
Half of them had pretty white spots.
"No you ain't, and that's why you're
up here with me instead of riding
in the van with the other boys,"
said Boss White. "I need a liaison
and you need something to do
other than make fresh trouble,
so we're gonna try this out."
"Like ... sending me around
with messages for the Hispanics?"
Shiv said. "Cause that's new too."
"Something like that," said Boss White.
"I think you'll enjoy this, and I don't
have anyone else who's a good fit.
I'm too busy to get up here as
often as I'd like to visit myself."
"Okay, boss," said Shiv. "I
don't know what it's all about,
but I'll follow along as best I can."
"That's all I ask," said Boss White.
"Here, this is the first place you need
to know." One finger lifted away from
the steering wheel to point. "Remember
when I showed you this on the map?"
"Yellow Smoke Park," Shiv read
on the sign. "It's our fallback position
in case Omaha gets overrun, 'cause it's
easy to find but there's nothing to bust."
"Ayup, they use this for dirt bikes,
off-road vehicles, and other rough stuff,"
said Boss White. "Just make a note in
your head, where this is. The powwow
is further in town at the Arena Park."
He drove around Macy a little,
pointing out this and that as they
went through the small town.
Then something snagged
Shiv's attention as they passed
the Social Services Building.
"Sheesh, boss, this place needs
a permission wall," Shiv said.
"Some toy tagged the mosaic."
He could understand slashing
the sign, because who didn't
hate social services? But
the mosaic was pretty, with
people sitting around a drum
and a couple more dancing.
Tagging a blank wall or a sign
was normal, but on a nice piece
it hinted at something bad wrong.
Boss White sighed. "This place
isn't as healthy as it could be."
Shiv looked around, searching
for more signs of trouble.
Yeah, it was dirt-poor,
literally in some places
where a driveway just led
to a bare patch of earth.
A few buildings were new,
but most were older, shabby.
It made Shiv feel sad, and he
didn't know why -- wasn't like
he had friends around here.
"You doin' anything about it?"
Shiv wondered, since Boss White
helped keep North Omaha from
totally falling down the sewer.
"I do what I can," Boss White said.
"All right, here's Pow-Wow Drive,
help me look for a place to park."
The narrow road looped around
a park, and the whole area
was crammed with cars.
One long stretch was
all campers and such.
"There," Shiv said, pointing.
"That should be big enough
to hold both vehicles."
As soon as Boss White
parked, he and Shiv
hopped out of the truck.
The van pulled up, and
more guys spilled out.
Popgun was already
whining about something,
but Faster Blaster looked
happy enough to be there,
and so did the other folks.
Shiv had been cooped up at
Blues Moon much of the time,
to keep him out of trouble,
but that just made him antsy.
Getting to come out here
was sooo much better.
The air was hot and dusty,
but full of fascinating smells.
Something thumped in the distance,
unfamiliar but compelling. "Hey, boss,
what's that sound?" Shiv asked.
"That's the Drum," said Boss White.
"Come on, the Blanket Dance will
start in half an hour. You and I
got something to do before then.
The rest of you boys, meet us
at the arena no later than that."
Shiv trotted along beside him, and
the sound got louder and louder.
He listened to the powwow music.
There was something in the energy
of that big booming drum, in the intensity
of the singing, that felt specifically Indian.
Shiv liked the raw, rising power in
the sound of a chorus of voices, too,
those high-pitched wailed harmonies,
how he couldn't tell how many singers
there were, and how sometimes it
sounded like just ten singers,
other times like a hundred.
Boss White led the way to
a big tipi decorated with
handprints, triangles, and
tall painted cornstalks.
In front of it stood
a little girl wearing
a dress printed with
sunflowers and hung
with long metal cones
that jingled as she moved.
"Good morning, Sunflower Girl,"
said Boss White. "Please tell
Smoking Breath that I'm here
to see him if he has time to visit."
She darted into the tipi, only
to reappear a minute later.
"Grandfather will see you
right away," she announced.
That was the tiniest secretary
Shiv had ever seen, but she
was already good at her job.
Then again, maybe she was
a scout for the bodyguards.
He had no doubt that if she
yelled, big burly men would
come bursting out of the bushes
to deal with whatever the trouble was.
Shiv followed Boss White, ducking
through the low oval door of the tipi.
Inside was pleasantly dim and
cooler than he expected, the walls
muffling the outside noise some.
Boss White shook hands with
an older man whose long hair was
black at the tips but gray up top.
He wore creamy leathers with fringe,
a whole bunch of necklaces, and
big earrings with nested hoops.
Something about the man
reminded Shiv a little bit of
Boss White and a lot of Rosie.
There was a sort of energy
about him, but it was warm and
calm in a way that made Shiv
want to sprawl out and soak
in it like it was a sunbeam.
"Smoking Breath, it's so good
to see you again," said Boss White.
"This is my boy Shiv, who I'm hoping
will take to this place. Shiv, this is
Smoking Breath, the shaman of
the Omaha Indian Reservation."
"Pleased to meet you, boss,"
Shiv said, dusting off the manners
that Boss White had knocked into him.
"I like the music that you have here."
"Well, you're a sharp one, aren't
you, little lynx?" said Smoking Breath.
"I uh, like sharp things," Shiv admitted.
"We came up for the powwow, figured
now would be a good time to mingle,"
said Boss White. "Any trouble we
ought to be aware of today?"
"The Iron Horses are here,"
said Smoking Breath, and
that made Shiv wince.
They'd been in the fight
that landed him in prison.
"They liable to cause problems?"
Boss White said, frowning.
"Better not, I warned them all
to behave," said Smoking Breath.
"You know how wild young things
are, though. I'm sorry that they
stepped on your robe this spring."
"Don't worry about that, they
didn't know it was my Business,"
Boss White said, waving a hand.
Something barreled into Shiv
from behind and squeezed him,
making him hiss and stiffen.
"Hi!" piped a voice. "I like you.
I'm glad that you're going
to be our new messenger.
You're so full of power!"
Smoking Breath sighed.
"Winter Cricket, please
let go of our guest."
Shiv finally got a look
at a tiny girl with big eyes
and long black hair over
a floppy burgundy shirt.
She bounced on her toes
like a little ball of energy.
She really, really reminded
him of Edison Finn somehow.
"What did I tell you about
reading people out loud?"
Smoking Breath asked her.
"Not to do it," she said.
"Because?" he pressed.
"It can hurt people to tell
them things they aren't ready
to know yet," said Winter Cricket.
"But how can he not know? He's
so strong and so shiny and look
at how his little claws come out!"
Startled, Shiv glanced down,
and yeah, he had moved
the slivers of metal out from
under his fingernails a bit.
But he wasn't sure that
was quite what she meant.
"I'm sorry," said Smoking Breath.
"Winter Cricket is very young. She
has a shaman's sight, but not yet
the discretion that should go with it."
Shiv thought about complaining,
because he hated hugs and hated
being surprised even more.
But she was so small and
so cute and chewing her out
would be like kicking a kitten.
Plus he didn't want to be
the cause of someone having
to sit out at a fair, because
that had been him too often.
He tried to think what Dr. G
would do and what things
usually worked with Edison.
"It's ... fine," Shiv said instead.
"She minds me of another kid
I know." Then he crouched
down. "But hey, Winter Cricket?"
"Yes?" she said, bouncing.
"Don't pounce on people
like that," Shiv said. "Some
of us are ... kinda jumpy, and
people can get hurt that way."
"Okay," she said. "I'm sorry
that I scared you like that."
Then she scampered away.
"I love that child with all of
my heart, but I declare she
has no brakes on her mouth,"
Smoking Breath muttered.
"Hell, neither have I
most of the time,"
Shiv pointed out,
making Boss White
laugh in agreement.
"You'll do, you'll do,"
Smoking Breath said.
"Go enjoy the powwow."
Shiv was surprised to find
that he liked the approval.
"Thanks," he said. "It
sure sounds like fun."
Boss White checked
his vidwatch. "We better
get to the blanket dance."
He led the way toward
the arena, and again Shiv
could hear the booming drum.
The other guys were there,
already waiting for them.
In the center, people were
swirling around a space that
had four blankets laid out.
"All right, Shiv, you're up,"
said Boss White. "Hop to it."
"But I dunno how to dance!"
Shiv squeaked, leaning away.
"You don't need to know the steps,"
said Boss White. "Just go around
four times, and each time, throw
money on one of the blankets
laid out at the four points."
He held out a hand. Shiv
took the bills folded into
squares, so you couldn't
see how much it was.
"This dance is for the Drum,
that's the guys playing music,
like a tip," Boss White explained.
"Oh, okay," Shiv said. Suddenly
it seemed a lot more familiar. He
was used to tipping musicians.
And what the heck, he'd been
walking in time with the beat
since he got out of the truck.
He could do this, yeah.
Shiv joined the trickle of
folks heading into the dance.
Some of them wore costumes of
fur and feathers in fabulous colors.
Others wore T-shirts and shorts.
Some of them were dancing,
hopping, twirling as they went.
Others were just walking.
Shiv listened to the drum,
how it almost seemed to say,
come-come-come-COME.
He watched the other dancers,
how they bobbed up and down.
They moved lightly on their toes
with a springy step that matched
the rhythm of the big drum.
Okay, he could do that, at least
a little bit, so he didn't stick out.
Shiv slipped himself into the dance,
made the first loop, and tossed
a square onto the red blanket.
Then he almost tripped over
someone, and it took him
a second to figure out that
the people around him had
expected him to step out.
But Boss White had said
to go around the circle
four times, hadn't he?
Shiv squeezed his hand
around the cash that
he still had left in it.
Yeah, four squares
for the four blankets,
with three of them left.
Then he noticed that
the Omaha folks were
circling around and around,
while the white folks were
throwing once and leaving.
Yep. He'd been taken for
white again, and Shiv felt
pretty sure that wasn't
any more of a compliment
here than it was at home.
Well, fuck it. He'd finish
like Boss White told him.
Shiv paid closer attention
to the dancers around him,
trying to figure out how they
moved together so well and
didn't crash into each other
when it wasn't anything like
the line-dance folk stuff
that he'd seen in the past.
By the time he had dropped
the last bill on the blue blanket,
people were smiling at him.
Okay, that was just ... weird.
Shiv ducked out of the circle
and hurried back to Boss White.
"Did I do that right?" he said.
"Cause I almost got stepped on."
"You did fine," said Boss White.
"Ever notice how things in
fairy tales happen in threes?"
"I guess," said Shiv, who hadn't
heard many, but liked Disney movies.
"That's a European thing, and they
brought it to America," said Boss White.
"But most tribes do things in fours."
It took a minute for the penny
to drop. "Oh!" Shiv said. "It's
so they know we ain't white."
"Exactly," said Boss White.
"They got fucked over just as
much as the African folks did,
they got reasons to distrust
Whitey same as we do. This
is how we show them that
we ain't with The Man."
"That's real clever, boss,"
Shiv said. "So now what?"
"Now we spread the dough
around more," Boss White said.
He handed each gang member
a wad of cash. "You go spend
all of that. Don't dump it all in
one place. You don't have to buy
food unless you just want to, I'm
paying for everyone's eats today."
"Gee, thanks," said Shiv. Dymin
had tried to explain 'budget' to him,
but she might as well have been
speaking Greek because it all
went in one ear and out the other.
Getting a wad to spend without
instructions sounded like fun.
"We'll start with the food, then,"
said Boss White. "Come on."
Shiv beelined for the food booths,
eagerly sniffing the air for ideas.
"Do I smell donuts? I smell
donuts!" he said, bouncing from
one foot to the other. "Boss,
can I have donuts for lunch?"
"That ain't donuts, that's
frybread, and yes you can
have some," said Boss White.
The booth advertised not only
frybread but also Indian tacos,
whatever that actually meant.
"It smells good, but if it's
not donuts, then what is it?"
Shiv wondered, sniffing.
"Frybread is fried dough,
like a donut but less sweet,"
said Boss White. "You can
have it plain. With ground meat
and veggies on top of it, that's
an Indian taco. It also comes
with powdered sugar or fruit.
We'll get some of each kind."
Shiv was hungry enough
to eat that much, yeah.
It turned out to be
really good stuff.
The plain tasted
a lot like a donut that
wasn't too sweet, and
the one with meat on it
did taste kind of like a taco,
but a little bit different too.
"What is this?" Shiv said,
poking at the ground meat.
"That's buffalo, it's like beef
but sweeter," said Boss White.
"I like it," Shiv said. He didn't
even pick off the vegetables.
He wasn't sure what kind of
tomato that was, but it tasted
way better than the store kind.
The powdered sugar one was
pretty much like a funnel cake
that didn't go in squiggles, and
the fruit one had mulberries.
Shiv licked his fingers. "Thanks,
boss, this was amazing," he said.
"You're welcome," said Boss White.
"Go on, now, you got shopping to do."
Shiv scampered off. He rarely got
a chance to explore anything like
a fair by himself, instead of getting
dragged along by someone else.
For some reason, this didn't feel
as confusing or overwhelming as
crowds usually did. Maybe because
Shiv could do whatever he wanted.
It was a little like the graffiti festival
that Dr. G had taken him to earlier.
Shiv wandered along the booths,
looking at what they had to sell.
Some of it was junk. A lot of it
was jewelry, which he didn't need.
There was a T-shirt booth, however,
and he sure needed clothes since
almost none of his old stuff still fit.
One rack had activist T-shirts,
which were funny but didn't
really apply to Shiv himself.
He found a soft gray one,
though, with a picture of
a person who had feathers
and beads in long black hair.
He couldn't tell for sure if
it was a girl or a guy, and
he kind of liked that about it.
The caption read, They
told me I was different.
Best compliment ever.
Now that sure fit him.
Shiv draped it over his arm
and then kept on browsing.
Another rack held T-shirts
that mostly showed animals.
He spotted one in marbled blue
with a fluffy tan lynx on the front.
That was awesome because it
would match all the pants he had.
Shiv bought both of the T-shirts
and moved on down the line.
Another booth had some
of those southwestern rugs.
Shiv found one that had
jagged patterns on it in
blue, black, gray, and white.
He ran a hand over it. Wool.
That'd make a nice rug for
his kitchen, so he bought it.
Shiv didn't want to keep
carrying stuff around, so he
headed back to the truck.
The other guys were there,
too, along with Boss White.
"Can we play stickball, boss?"
Popgun asked. "We got
challenged to a game,
with really good stakes."
"Well, it's your hide,"
said Boss White. Then
he turned to Shiv. "You
want in on this nonsense?
Stickball's a rough game."
Shiv shook his head.
"I don't like being hit."
"More fun for us, then,"
Popgun said, walking away.
"Are you having fun? Finding
things to buy?" said Boss White.
"Yeah, I found enough stuff
that I want to put it in the truck,"
Shiv said. "The wool rug's hot.
I got a couple of T-shirts too."
"Good job," Boss White said,
opening the truck so Shiv could
put away the things he'd bought.
"How's the money holding out?"
"Still got plenty left," said Shiv.
"I'll head back to the booths now."
He drifted past jewelry and
more jewelry, someone selling
tooled leather belts, a booth
full of beads and junk, then
finally spotted something cool.
This one had rocks spread out
on tarps. Some were broken hunks,
others smooth round cobblestones.
One bunch felt almost like glass.
Nearby, another guy had set up
a little camp with a sign that
read, Steve Broken Stone
Traditional Skills and Crafts
Flint Knapping -- Arrow Making --
Fire Starting -- Wilderness Skills.
He had a piece of leather over
one knee, whacking away at it
with another rock. More tools
spread out around his workspace,
including pieces of antler and what
looked like part of a screwdriver.
Shiv was fascinated. Apparently
the rocks being sold were meant
for making tools if you hit them right.
He watched the rock seller trying
to trim a piece of leather with
a knife that was obviously dull.
"Want me to sharpen that?"
Shiv offered. "I can make it
stay as sharp as you want it."
The man looked up. "How?"
"Like this." Shiv tossed
his play-putty in the air
and shaped it, then let it
drop back into his hand.
"Do that and you can have
as many rocks as you can
carry," the seller offered.
"How about a bucket full,"
Shiv said, because he'd been
working out and could probably
carry more than he could store.
"Deal," the man said, and
passed the knife to him.
Shiv sharpened it, then
swiped it through the leather,
which parted like it was paper.
"Impressive," said the man.
"Pick out your rocks. You can
have flint, agate, obsidian --
whatever you want here."
Shiv picked mostly flint.
He kinda hated to break
anything as pretty as agate,
and he could get glass anywhere.
Then he plopped himself down
in the grass to watch Steve making
tiny, razor-sharp arrowheads.
When Shiv thought he had
the hang of it, he picked up
one of his rocks and started
trying to mold it into shape.
That didn't work at all.
Flint wouldn't push around
like metal. His superpower
just knocked chips off it.
They had funny little ridges,
like half-circles, with sharp edges.
They didn't look anything like
Steve's arrowheads, though.
"What in the world are you
doing?" Steve asked him.
"Trying to copy you,"
Shiv muttered, pushing
at the stone with a thumb.
"Tch. No. Not like that,"
Steve scolded gently. "Flint
doesn't break that way. You
need to work along the edges."
"I have superpowers," Shiv said.
"I don't need tools to work it."
"Well, that explains a lot,"
said Steve. "Can you feel
what the stone wants to be?"
"A pain in my ass?" Shiv said.
Steve laughed. "No, no, it just
has certain ways that it breaks.
You can't make it do anything
that it doesn't want to do. You
have to work with the stone."
He picked up a different piece
and showed Shiv how to start
from scratch, knocking off a flake
and then carefully shaping it.
Shiv tried again to copy what
Steve was doing so gracefully.
He was pretty terrible at it. Shiv
could feel that this was going
to take sooo much practice.
But it was incredible fun.
By the time Shiv had
roughed out something
that might be considered
an arrowhead if you squinted,
he was tired and ravenous.
"Thanks for the lesson,"
he said as he got up,
and Steve nodded.
"You are diligent; you
will learn," Steve said.
Shiv lugged the bucket
of rocks back to the truck.
Then he went looking
for something else to eat.
He found a booth selling
salmon pemmican, which
smelled like smoke and fish.
Only trouble was, it was
run by one of the guys
Shiv had tangled with
in spring -- Iron Horses.
Shiv hesitated, fidgeting.
On the one hand, he really
wanted that fish. On the other,
he didn't want his ass kicked.
But the big guy just looked at
him and beckoned him forward.
Maybe they would mind what
Smoking Breath had said
about not making trouble.
Shiv inched forward.
The salmon pemmican
was dollar a piece, done up
in little thumb-sized sausages.
He bought one and took a nibble.
It was amazing. It was better than
the salmon cheeseball thing that
he'd hogged at a party once.
"Can I get, like, a whole string
of those?" he said hopefully.
"That's three hundred calories
per piece, so it adds up fast,"
the big man pointed out.
Shiv counted laboriously
on his fingers. "Then I need,
uh, three or four to make up
for what I just burned."
The seller cut three from
an open string, then handed
Shiv an uncut string too.
"Thanks," Shiv said.
"This stuff is wonderful."
They had a snack box
in the truck. He could
stash the rest in there.
But he ate the loose ones
on the way back to do that.
By then, Shiv had spent
most of what Boss White
had given him, so he drifted
around the powwow just
watching the activities.
There was what sounded
like a pretty cool fight, but
he missed seeing that and
only heard about it from
others who had been there.
Shiv got to see more of
the dancing, though, with
girls wearing actual capes
as part of fanciful costumes.
They were every color of
the rainbow, with long fringe
made of glossy ribbons.
The girls bounded around
the arena, twirling in place,
moving their capes like wings
as they danced so lightly that
they hardly seemed to touch
the ground beneath their feet.
It looked really hard to do,
and Shiv was impressed.
He even got to see
Sunflower Girl along
with some others doing
the jingle dress dance.
That one seemed to be
all about making as
much noise as possible,
but Shiv liked the sound.
He wondered if they sold
recordings of it. That stuff
ought to irritate the crap
out of people who tried
to make him be quiet.
Then Shiv spotted some
of his gangmates, and so
he headed toward them.
They looked pretty beat up.
Several of them were limping.
Popgun had a bloody nose and
one arm braced in a splint, but
he looked very proud of himself.
"Hey Boss, look what we won!"
Popgun said, jerking a thumb
over his shoulder. Behind him,
several folks herded a buffalo.
"And what are you going to do
with that?" Boss White drawled.
"It's good eatin', boss! We'll
hand it over to the girls to clean,"
Popgun replied. "Someone said
they'd turn it into burger and stuff
for us, if we swapped 'em the hide
and bones that we don't need."
"Ayup, that's a fair deal,"
said Boss White. "Go on."
"Could I help?" Shiv said.
"I been a few places where
people hunted, or that one farm,
but I never butchered anything
that big before. Cook says
I'm good in the kitchen."
He could keep the knives
sharp and everything, wasn't
fussed about a little blood or
dead things, and liked food
enough to work hard at
putting it on the table.
"You can ask, but it's
up to the women if they
want your help or not,"
said Boss White. "Go
wash up first, though."
Shiv knew that much.
He hurried to the johns, but
of course there was a line.
By the time he found out
where they were butchering
the prize, they'd already killed
the buffalo and strung it up.
"Hi, I'm Shiv," he said tentatively.
"Could I help with this? I got
some experience butchering,
but nothing this big yet."
One old granny looked him
up and down like he was
a side of beef that she
meant to start cooking.
Shiv stood straight and
tried not to look useless.
"I'm Mary Good Fingers,"
she replied. "Are you
any use with a knife?"
Shiv grinned and
tossed his in the air,
twirling it with his power.
He wasn't sure why he
felt more free about using
his superpowers here. It
just felt ... safer, somehow,
than most places he'd been.
"Big medicine!" Mary said.
"Yes, come, you can help.
Grab an apron over there."
Those were heavy canvas
and big enough to cover
almost all of Shiv's clothes,
so he hurried to put one on.
Several women were already
clustered around the carcass,
cleaning the insides out of it.
They were muttering, or
maybe it was singing, in
some language that
Shiv didn't recognize.
"What are they saying?"
he wondered, listening.
"They're thanking the buffalo
for feeding us," Mary said.
"Thanking the buffalo?"
Shiv said, fascinated.
Before, he'd only ever
heard people praying
to whatever god ran
the church of the week.
This made so much
more sense to him.
Shiv leaned over and
patted the coarse fur.
"Thanks, buffalo," he said.
"I'm sure you taste real good."
Mary and the other women
murmured approval at that.
Weird. But kinda good weird.
It took everyone working
together to peel away
the huge, heavy hide.
Several of the women
staked it down to start
scraping the flesh off
the inside of the skin.
"It will need to be cured
later," said Mary, "but that's
easier if it's fleshed well first."
Shiv watched the process,
curious, as other people
rinsed off the carcass.
Some of the women
used seashells to scrape
the hide, while others
had old, worn knives.
One girl said, "This
is getting too dull
to do any good. I
need a new shell."
"I could sharpen it?"
Shiv said. "If you
show me another
as sharp as you like?"
They showed him
the new shells, and he
sharpened the old one.
The carcass team was
starting to break down
the buffalo into sections,
which the women then
handed off to other folks
to divide into actual cuts.
Shiv got a real good lesson
on buffalo cuts, which were
pretty much like the beef cuts
on a poster that Cook had
hanging in the kitchen.
Knife skills made Shiv
popular with the women,
since he could cut clean
with a steady hand.
Plus his superpower let
him get all the meat off
the bones, or slice hunks
into paper-thin leaves
to be dried and smoked.
However, working around
so many other folks was
harder for him to manage.
It took a little while to get
the rhythm of it, but then Shiv
realized that everyone else
was working to the beat of
that big booming drum.
After that it got easier
to guess when they
were going to move,
so he could fit himself
into the space better.
As they cut down the meat,
some women formed up
a packing team, wrapping
the steaks and such in paper,
then layering them with ice
inside of the big coolers.
When they got down to
the bones, people started
talking about who got what.
The meat was going to
the stickball team, of course,
but they would share that
with the rest of the gang.
"Will they want the liver
and other organ meats?"
Mary asked. "White people
usually don't, but these
weren't all white men."
"Oh yeah, if it's edible,
they'll eat it," said Shiv.
"Our restaurant serves
soul food. Cook can use
everything but the moo."
"Good, good," said Mary,
and into a cooler went
the liver, heart, and
other organ meats.
Mary and her sister
claimed the shaggy hide.
Someone wanted some of
the smaller bones for making
stock; someone else wanted
the hooves and scraps for glue.
"What about you, Shiv?"
said Mary. "You worked
hard, pick something good."
"I can work bone, if it's hard
enough," Shiv mused. "Maybe
one of the big heavy bones?
I saw some people carving
stuff like that. I could make
a lamp or something."
"Nobody has asked for
the skull yet," said Mary.
"Would that work for you?"
Shiv looked over at
the hideous red thing,
scraped mostly clean
but still pretty gross.
A skull would be hollow;
he could put a light in it,
if he could figure out how
to rig the wiring and stuff.
"Yeah, I think it would,"
said Shiv. "I dunno how
to clean it any better
than it is now, though."
"All the carving bones
can be cleaned together,
and the skull sent to
you after it has been
cleaned," Mary said.
"Yeah, that'll work,
thank you," said Shiv.
With so many hands,
it didn't take long for them
to process to whole buffalo
and pack everything away.
Shiv looked forward to getting
some of the meat, because
the guys would share it.
He had really liked
the Indian taco earlier.
As the first people finished,
they set up a wash station
where people could take off
their aprons and clean up.
Shiv took his turn at
the wash, soaping up
his arms and even
ducking his head
under the stream.
He tossed back
wet hair, dragging
a hand through it.
Yeah, that felt better
after the messy work.
Following the line,
Shiv came to where
Mary was waving
smoke over people.
Shiv sniffed. It wasn't
like that skanky incense
that the flakes burned.
It smelled almost familiar,
but not quite, thick and
blue and kinda tickly.
"What is this stuff?"
Shiv wondered, curious.
"The smudge is made
of sage and sweetgrass
tied together," Mary said.
Shiv thought about that.
"So the sweetgrass is
what smells like vanilla?"
"Yes, exactly," said Mary.
"Sage makes everything
clean, and sweetgrass
welcomes good spirits."
"I'm smooth with that,"
Shiv said, stepping up
to take his turn at it.
She waved the smoke
over him with a neat fan
that looked like it was made
out of a whole bird's wing.
Everything seemed
bright and fresh and
clean all of a sudden.
Mary patted him on
the shoulder, and Shiv
managed not to dodge
away from the contact.
"You're a good worker,"
she said. "I hope that we'll
see you again some time."
"Yeah, I hope so too,"
Shiv said with a grin.
* * *
Notes:
This poem is long, so its character, setting, and content notes appear separately.
(no subject)
Date: 2022-09-28 03:09 am (UTC)Thank you!
Date: 2022-09-28 03:12 am (UTC)I'm happy to hear that.
>> I look forward to the notes once they go up.<<
Character notes are now up. I'll do setting notes next.
(no subject)
Date: 2022-09-28 03:38 am (UTC)Thank you!
Date: 2022-09-28 04:34 am (UTC)Yay! :D
>> And _not_ be seen as yet another white guy.<<
He looks white, but he doesn't act white. Not everyone will notice, but some people do.
(no subject)
Date: 2022-09-28 07:30 am (UTC)and he'll have no trouble gathering up the waste chips. Heck, knowing him. I could see him packing them into small containers for emergencies.
Just picture him tossing a handful of razor sharp chips at someone or something and then applying his power. Instant meat grinder...
(no subject)
Date: 2022-09-28 07:33 am (UTC)Thoughts
Date: 2022-09-28 09:05 am (UTC)He really does. Not everything will necessarily match perfectly, but most of it is a very good fit.
>> I love his thank you to the buffalo! <<
:D Far as I know, that's the first time a prayer actually made sense to him. Shiv isn't really religious; if he thinks anything about "God" it's that he's a dick. The buffalo, however, was right there even if it was dead so thanking it for the food was more logical.
>> And how the people he meets understand his Big Medicine.<<
One interesting thing about Terramagne is that different cultures have their own perspective on superpowers. The Native American concept of "medicine powers" is not identical but has a lot of overlap. And some hippies don't believe in superpowers at all -- they know the abilities exist, but consider all souls to be powerful, it's just a matter of what an individual has developed or not.
Re: Thoughts
Date: 2022-09-29 04:22 am (UTC)Re: Thoughts
Date: 2022-09-29 09:08 am (UTC)Re: Thoughts
Date: 2022-10-01 07:46 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2022-09-28 08:16 am (UTC)In book 5 of my Ravenstone stuff, I have a chapter taking place in and around the Navajo nation. It's not much, mostly a character introduction. See, one of Dalia's moms is Navajo, and for a few years she was acting as a vigilante hunting down serial killers who were preying on Navajo women. In the prime universe she brought too much attention from the magical government and had to flee; on her resulting journey she meets Morgana and Orpheus and they become a polycule.
But in the universe this book 5 chapter takes place in, she didn't flee. She kept at it, and got arrested. Then circumstances led her to escape and head back to go back to hunting murderers and cursing them to death. The magical government there collapses for complicated reasons, so she no longer fears arrest. I used Google Maps to get some good looks at the area for the chapter.
BTW is frybread a universal Indian thing? Cuz I happen to know the Navajo / Diné like it too.
(no subject)
Date: 2022-10-01 07:56 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2022-10-01 10:42 pm (UTC)Thoughts
Date: 2022-10-02 12:29 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2022-10-02 11:15 pm (UTC)Yes ...
Date: 2022-10-03 01:24 am (UTC)I don't know if the same cheese even exists anymore, I haven't seen it in decades.
Re: Yes ...
Date: 2022-10-03 03:53 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2022-09-28 08:19 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2022-09-28 08:33 am (UTC)Well, that was cool! And it's good to see Shiv find somewhere where he fits! It's good to see him when he's not a spiky little ball of anger and sharpness!
Thoughts
Date: 2022-09-28 08:55 am (UTC)Thank you!
>> And it's good to see Shiv find somewhere where he fits! <<
He does mesh well with the tribal culture. They have a lot in common.
>> It's good to see him when he's not a spiky little ball of anger and sharpness! <<
I actually have a T-shirt saved that I would love to use with Shiv one day:
https://genkigear.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/12/incandescent-kids1b.jpg
Re: Thoughts
Date: 2022-09-28 09:02 am (UTC)Yup! That's Shiv without doubt!
Re: Thoughts
Date: 2022-10-01 07:58 pm (UTC)Re: Thoughts
Date: 2022-10-01 09:11 pm (UTC)Re: Thoughts
Date: 2022-10-02 05:09 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2022-09-28 02:34 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2022-09-28 07:21 pm (UTC)Thank you!
Date: 2022-09-28 07:51 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2022-09-29 08:23 pm (UTC)Thank you!
Date: 2022-09-29 09:27 pm (UTC)I'm happy to hear that.
>> The atmosphere, the cultural lessons, Boss White giving Shiv context for what he asks shiv to do... <<
:D Boss White is really hoping that Shiv will make a good liaison to the Omaha tribe, and it works out well. This is actually the kind of cultural coaching that Boss White specializes in, since he runs a mixed gang; but people vary in terms of which cultures they really mesh with.
>> Shiv getting offered the SKULL is well cool, feels like that might be important symbolically in a symbol system I don't know yet. <<
It is significant. The hide is probably the other most important piece. Basically, Shiv helped a lot, was respectful of the buffalo, and was generous with his superpower, so folks wanted to encourage that. Had someone else wanted the skull, the team probably would've offered him the big leg bones, which also make great carving material.
>> So much detail! Someday I'd love to go to an event like this. <<
Powwows are exciting. Various websites have a calendar of such events, or you can search "powwow (your state)."
https://powwow-power.com/powwow-calendar/
https://www.nativeknot.com/events/PowWows/2022-10-14
And yes, I based a lot of this on some powwows and other events I have attended, as well as other knowledge and more recent research.
(no subject)
Date: 2022-09-30 05:14 am (UTC)Remember me his lineage?
Been a long time since I've had somebody have a go at me with smoke and feathers. I should see about that.... or at least do a self flush...
I wanna see him and the Horses figure out how to work together.
Thoughts
Date: 2022-09-30 05:44 am (UTC)Yep.
>> Remember me his lineage? <<
Shiv doesn't know. He looks to have prevailing Scandinavian heritage though, as pale as he is. Far as I know, he doesn't have Native American heritage. However, that's not necessary -- people who grow up on Turtle Island often connect in the same ways. Some of the tribal folks hate that, but seriously, you want to argue with the spirits about their choices? That's not gonna go well.
>> Been a long time since I've had somebody have a go at me with smoke and feathers. I should see about that.... or at least do a self flush...<<
Good idea. We've done it here sometimes.
>> I wanna see him and the Horses figure out how to work together.<<
That's going to take some doing. Shiv doesn't want to lose his access to <3 salmon pemmican <3 but some of the Iron Horses are more hinky about his past activities. Fortunately Smoking Breath likes him and can explain ways of straightening out the stress. By all means prompt for this on Tuesday if you want to see more; the theme will be Indigenous Cultures.
Re: Thoughts
Date: 2022-10-01 08:02 pm (UTC)Re: Thoughts
Date: 2022-10-01 09:13 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2022-10-01 01:23 am (UTC)Well ...
Date: 2022-10-01 01:55 am (UTC)Re: Well ...
Date: 2022-10-01 05:06 am (UTC)Re: Well ...
Date: 2022-10-01 08:06 pm (UTC)Re: Well ...
Date: 2022-10-01 09:25 pm (UTC)Re: Well ...
Date: 2022-10-02 05:13 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2024-01-27 07:01 am (UTC)