[Critique Group 1] January 2021 submission, 791 words

[Deanna Noriega]

Behind the Mask

 

            "Spin us a tale," begged the young ones as they gathered around
the tree where Grandmother Spider sat on her beautiful web, spinning silk to
catch dreams. She paused in her work to teach the children to be wise.  

 

"Of what shall I weave your story?" asked the wise old teller of tales. 

 

"Oh make it about brave warriors," cried the boys.

 

"No! About love and romance," begged the girls.

 

"Ah, but sometimes they are in the same tale." laughed Grandmother Spider.

 

Listen my children and I will tell you a secret. My granddaughter
Otterchild dances away laughing.  Like quicksilver she is here but if you
try to catch and hold her she slips away flashing her smile over a shoulder,
lest you take offense that she chooses not to stay. Dancing, spinning,
bubbling bubbling until she foams at the mouth and then she is gone, Leaving
sunlight and laughter where she has passed. 

 

            Sometimes Otterchild's mask of joy slips and a fawn's eyes look
out in recognition of another wounded soul. She pauses in her frantic dance
to touch lightly the shy the one who doubts his worth. Her brief glance says
I see you, I understand your pain.  For a moment

She stands still forgetting to whirl out of reach.  Who would guess that she
sparkles to hide the darkness of hurt within?  Who would guess that she
flits out of reach for fear of being drawn too close and opening the door
to betrayal and pain. You might count her as a flirt or a foolish butterfly.
Delight in her

Mischief, but don't try to tame her.  She will only flit away, fearing to be
trapped.

            

Among the young warriors there is one called Grey Owl.  He does not boast,
though 

He is a good hunter.  He is a quiet watcher and thinks carefully before he
speaks.  

He is strong,  silent and swift Gray Owl does not swagger like many others.

Warriors with names that contain Eagle or Hawk are proud and fierce and they
sometimes discount those with gentler natures.   

 

One day, the young men were gathered at the edge of the camp.  Some of them
ran races on foot or on their fine ponies.  A few sat playing a gambling
game.  They tried to outdo each other in telling tales of their exploits.  

As Otterchild's quick small feet carried her to the stream for water the
young men grew louder in their play and talk hoping to draw her glance.  

 

The young women gathered to scrape hides, cut meat into strips for drying
into jerky and weave baskets to store food.  Otter Child joined them and her
laughter made the work go more quickly for the addition of her gaiety and
clever hands.     

 

Little Elk rode by on his swift spotted pony.  He felt proud that his horse
had won all of the races.  Otter Child dropped a chain of sunflowers her
nimble fingers wove over the horse's neck.  This made Little Elk puff out
his chest in pride before the other young men.  

 

Otter Child laughed and said, "Your pony deserves to be honored for his
swiftness!  So I give him these flowers, but you only had to sit on his
back.  He was the one who did all of the work!"

 

Coyote Singer and Buffalo Boy challenged each other to shoot arrows at a
distant tree limb.  Otter Child shook her head in wonder at the time they
wasted.  

"Tree limbs don't run from the hunter like game and they don't put stew in
the pot," she thought.

 

Gray Owl returned from hunting with an antelope across the withers of his
pony.  He cared for his tired horse.  He divided the meat and distributed it
to the lodges of the old an infirm who had no hunters.  He made a gift of
the hide to an old grandmother who had outlived all of her children.  He
made prayers of thanksgiving for his luck in the hunt.  He sat down apart
and played a song on his flute.  He did not think anyone noticed his
generosity to others and his respect for the life of the antelope or his
care of his pony's needs.

 

            Otter Child saw and she weighed these things in her heart.
Though Gray Owl set no snares to capture the wary maiden, his good heart and
gentle nature worked to gain him the love the others could not win with all
of their pride and raised voices.  

 

"Look with your heart as well as your eyes my children.  For eyes can be
fooled by the surface of things and fail to see behind the masks we all wear
to guard our true selves." So did Grandmother Spider council. 

 

 

DeAnna Quietwater Noriega

Cell: 573-544-3511

Email:  <mailto:dqnoriega at gmail.com> dqnoriega at gmail.com

Author of Fifty Years of Walking with Friends

https://www.dldbooks.com/dqnoriega/

 

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