*Another Way*

Once, right after becoming a Waratota Brother, Big-Eye asked Tlun-Shiklu,

“Tell me, father. Wasn’t there any way for me to save Tushiklu-tu-Wagha? Wasn’t there something that I could have done?”

And Father Tlun-Shiklu told him,

“My son, in the grip of madness, one has no control over his actions. Your guardian was killed, your body was invaded, your mind—stolen. You cannot bear responsibility for what happened there. You were cursed; the curse was what killed Tushiklu-tu-Wagha.” Father let out a deep sigh and, looking at the clouds that roamed above, went on, “His whole life he ran from the water, and when he ran to it, he found his death. Maybe there is truth in what people from the upper clans say: movement is predetermined. We die the way we are supposed to die and have no choice over it.”

Then both men saw tears in each other's eyes and said no more, letting the time pass in respectful silence.

When Aunt Nawa-Tlo-Lii lay on her deathbed, suffering from black fever, Big-Eye asked her during a moment of clarity,

“Aunt, have you ever thought of why the world is the way it is?”

“Why, my little nephew,” she still used to refer to Big-Eye that way. “Highest of the spirits, Klanazhaano, spun it to keep Light and Shadow away from each other.”

“But have you ever wondered, aunt, if things could be different? If there was another way of settling that brawl?”

“My nephew,” his aunt whispered. “The big ones do as the big ones please. We the small ones live at their feet, trembling at their every movement. That’s all we can ever do.”

“But I already forced Klanazhaano to make a decision once. Can’t I do it again and force him to spin the world in another direction? Make the fever disappear, make our fellows not die?”

“Little nephew,” his aunt began but couldn’t finish. She fell back into the darkness of the fever, never to return from it again.

When Shaman Ira-Wyghu was making preparations for his last trip to the north, Big-Eye visited him under his dead acacia. He asked,

“Tell me, Shaman, can Klanazhaano spin the world in the opposite direction?”

The Shaman finished putting his tools into a skin bag and tightened the straps. “I don’t know,” he said.

“If I threaten to hit all of his eyes, would he be willing to do what I’d ask of him?”

The Shaman checked the other bags. “I don’t know,” he said.

“If I make him spin the world in another direction, what would happen?”

The Shaman turned to Big-Eye his clouded eyes, his old face all withered, his unattended hair all shaggy and gray.

“What does it matter, Respected Qaoron?” he said. “Whatever I say, you’ve already made the decision, haven’t you? Even if I say that Klanazhaano will never spin the world backwards just to please a small one, you’ll still go looking for him. Even if I say that reversing the world may end in a universal fire, you will not believe me. You’re seeking not my answers, but my approval.” Big-Eye wanted to speak, but Ira-Wyghu caught the air with his hand. “I disapprove of you going, Qaoron. Though I know you will go anyway, so Godspeed and watch where you step*.”

With that, Shaman Ira-Wyghu grabbed three bags and hung them on his back, took a cloak and put it on his shoulder, and swiftly trod out into the desert.

“At least tell me where I should look to find him!” Big-Eye shouted.

“I don’t know,” the Shaman answered without turning. “But maybe start with the southern forests.”

Shaman Ira-Wyghu went to the north. Big-Eye sat alone under the dead acacia, watching the shaman go away, marveling at how strong and agile this man still was in his years.

And when, in the wake of a new war, in the ring of infuriated men, Big-Eye stooped over the body of his killed enemy—Tsho-Jibji of the Hu—he asked Hala-Totala-Shkuu,

“Have you ever thought, my friend, that things could have been done differently?”

“What do you mean, friend?” Hala-Totala-Shkuu asked him. “You killed him in the best way possible! I don’t see any other ways that could be better.”

“You don’t understand what I mean,” Big-Eye sighed. “Maybe it could have been done so that no men had to be killed. Maybe his father did not have to die in that fight near the Last Rock. Maybe our brother Tushiklu-tu-Wagha could have been saved. Maybe no war needed to be incited. Maybe no one would’ve died of black fever—if I did things differently. Oh, if only I could do everything differently. Maybe I could have even kept the Jackal’s pelt...”

Hala-Totala-Shkuu gawked at Big-Eye.

“Friend, are you mad again?”

But Big-Eye’s only response was a tearful smile.

***

The River men returned to their clans to make preparations for a new war. The Hu followed them and began raids in the Upper Clans.

Big-Eye did not take part in war parties this time. He took his bow and a few supplies.

“I will fix this,” he said to his comrades. Nobody understood his statement, but no one questioned him. The consensus was that the Respected Qaoron surely knew what he was doing.

Brother Hala-Totala-Shkuu demanded that he go with Big-Eye

“We are the Waratota Brothers!” he said. “We’re one now.”

Big-Eye refused.

“You are right, we are one. And our people need at least one Waratota Brother to stay with them, to lead them.” Big-Eye held his friend’s shoulders. “Be the leader instead of me. I will fix this return soon. Then, we’ll celebrate.” He smiled with a smile so friendly that it put Hala-Totala-Shkuu to tears. Big-Eye stepped back and said, “Survive. Survive!” he repeated to the men and turned to go.

Thus, Big-Eye left the River. Following Shaman Ira-Wyghu’s clue, he went to the southern forests in search of Klanazhaano.

 

*The Final Encounter*

On his way, he encountered Lolla-Tombona.

The former qaoron lay under the cover of a big acacia, and Spirit Kisshina sat beside him. His old, skeleton-like body rested motionless on a reed mat, his eyes sunken in the eye sockets. His thin hand moved feebly from beneath his cloak and reached for Big-Eye.

“Son! My son!” he whispered.

Big-Eye approached his father, glancing warily at the spirit.

“What do you want?” he asked coldly.

“My son! My dear son, how you’ve grown!” Lolla-Tombona began, his wizened face barely stretching in a smile. “How famous you’ve become! Some men passed this place just recently, and I heard them speak your name with such awe, such respect! My son, I am proud of you!”

With his dry hand, the father tried to touch his son, but Big-Eye moved away. The father tried to get up, but his body barely could hold his weight. He lacked his left hand; a rotten stump stuck out from under his cloak.

“Tell me what you want, or I am leaving right away,” Big-Eye said.

“My son. I count my days. My end is near, but there is nobody around to give me a proper burial. I asked this trickster,” he feebly pointed to the spirit, “but he wants my whole body in exchange. How can I give him my body? How will Lark and Raven retrieve my spirit if I do? My son, you are my blood. You are the only one who’s willing to help his own father. Aren’t you, my son? I beg of you, see to my funeral. Put my body in the biggest boat there is out there. Put all the things that lie in my house in it. Set it all ablaze and let it float. Let it float.” Several times Lolla-Tombona repeated his last phrase, “Let it float. Let it float,” closing his eyes, falling into a delirium.

Big-Eye turned away and said, looking at the horizon,

“You call me your blood, but what name did you give to your blood?”

Lolla-Tombona opened his eyes and gawked at Big-Eye.

“My son... My son!” he pleaded.

“What name did you give your son?”

Lolla-Tombona’s pupils spun around as if looking for the answer in the air around them.

“Child,” he muttered, “little child. My little child!” he cried, touching Big-Eye’s arm, but Big-Eye slapped his hand away and rose to his feet.

“I’m not little, nor a child, neither am I yours. The name’s Big-Eye, Stork Brother of Kizhji, son of the house of Raging Waters. I have my fellow people to care for. You, Respected Qaoron, have that spirit to care for you..” Big-Eye pointed to the spirit of lowlands. “Let him see to your funeral.”

Big-Eye turned to leave, but Kisshina stopped him, asking,

“But what am I going to get for taking care of this man?”

“Nothing from me,” Big-Eye said, and the sound of his steps lingered in the air as he walked away.

Lolla-Tombona watched Big-Eye go away, his hand still reaching for his son.

“Traitor,” he suddenly whispered. “Betrayer. Scum,” he said out loud. “Scum! Betrayer! Worthless fish!” he screamed. “Rotten piece of walking meat! Curse you, one-eyed freak! Curse your offspring! Curse your folks! Curse you! Curse you!”

Big-Eye had long been gone, but Lolla-Tombona kept spending his last breath on curses until the Light gave way to Shadow. That very night, he died. No man was around him, so no one knows what kind of death found him. It is believed that Spirit Kisshina ate the body, leaving his spirit naked. This spirit, undivided and unattended, roams the southern shore ever since. Every night, he cries out loud, and the only thing he cries is “Curse you!”

 

*Conversation With Raven*

On Big-Eye went. In a grove on the western shore of the Rivers, he met Raven.

Big-Eye had lost his knife in the tall grass and was looking for it around the grove when the Carrier of the Dead Spirits called out to him,

“Look-king for some-thing?”

Big-Eye looked up and saw Raven, the knife in his clutches.

“Yes, my knife,” he said, pointing.

“Well, you’ve found it,” said Raven and threw the knife to Big-Eye. “Time to go home!” he suddenly added.

“Why?” Big-Eye looked at Raven, bewildered.

“You’ve found what you lost. Nothing for you to find anymore. None of what you’re looking for.

“How do you know what I’m looking for?”

“I deal with death, hunter,” Raven sneered. “I know ev-verything about ev-very world’s dweller.”

“Well, then you sure must know where Klanazhaano is?”

“No-body knows where this stranger from the abyss is,” said Raven. “He passes by, in and out, whenever and how-wever he pleases. All I can say is that he’s som-mewhere nearby.”

Big-Eye walked around the tree.

“Then maybe you know how to track him?”

Raven chuckled.

“It used to be e-easy when he used to walk barefoot. But then some rascal marksman deprived him of an eye. Ever since, he walks carefully, barely leaving any trail.”

Big-Eye kept walking back and forth under the Raven’s perch.

“Maybe you know how to bait him? What does he like?”

“Well, he likes to be treated well. But since that rogue marksman took away his eye, he prefers it when nobody’s around.”

“Then do you know a way how I could become invisible to him?”

Raven sighed.

“You can-not do one trick twice, little nephew. Klanazhaano will not be compelled by you again. You’ll be better off returning home and fighting the war than spending your time—”

“I cannot return!” Big-Eye exclaimed. “I told my fellows that I left to fix things.”

“And what does it mean? What exact-tly do you intend to do?”

“I intend to reverse the movement of the world. I intend to redo my actions and set things right. I intend to fix my mistakes. How do I do it? How do I find Klanazhaano? How do I compel him again? What other tricks are there? Tell me!”

Raven looked at Big-Eye with his smirking black eyes, attentively, as if studying.

“There is a Payaha on the southern end of the world who may know the answers to your questions,” he said at last. “You reach it if you go through the lands of the White People, and then through the lands of the Red People. If you then walk far enough to enter the southern forests and long enough to pass them, you’ll enter the lands of the Yellow People. After that, you’ll just have to jump over a deep abyss, and there you will meet the Payaha. It will tell you everything you want to know.”

“How do I thank you?” Big-Eye inquired, excited, but Raven only shuffled sideways along the branch.

“You will curse me sooner,” he croaked quietly.

“I still thank you, Carrier of the Dead Spirits,” Big-Eye said and trod against his shadow.

“Keep in mind, hunter,” Raven suddenly told him from afar. “A wish for a fire is warming, but the fire itself is burning.”

Raven flapped his wings and flew away. Big-Eye held his stuff tighter and walked on.

 

*Payaha*

Big-Eye traveled further south. He crossed the lands of the White People, and then that of the Red People. He walked far enough to enter the southern forests and long enough to pass them and then entered the land of the Yellow People. This land was full of exotic southern trees and grasses and bushes, covered with flowers of extraordinary forms with triangular petals; birds with four and eight wings flew around, singing odd, creaky songs, with feathers of all colors: red, dark-blue with yellow, green and black, pink, white and orange. Strange animals roamed this land, some with eight legs, others with ten eyes. Leopards with horns jumped from branch to branch. Antelopes without horns but with stripes and spots like those of a leopard grazed in the shadows. Elephants taller than the tallest of the trees trailed through the thickets. Animals with bodies of turtles and faces of mice ran between trees. Boars with red pelts and huge ears rested near streams. Snakes with needles instead of scales hissed from the foliage. And amidst this bizarre nature, the strange Yellow People lived with their reed houses on tree tops.

Big-Eye passed this marvelous land and reached the abyss that Raven spoke of. He looked from the cliff at the cold, dark deep beneath him and gauged the width of the abyss. Jumping over it was impossible.

He didn’t have long to ruminate though, for soon Payaha itself appeared in front of him, floating in the ring of blinding light.

“My hero, how well you did!” it said, and Big-Eye flinched back.

“Your hero?” he asked.

“Mine,” Payaha said bluntly. “Splendid hunter, mighty warrior. From the moment Raven brought your spirit to me some twenty-five years ago, you were mine. I wanted to marry you right then, my handsome hunter, my mighty warrior, but lo—we cannot marry spirits.”

“Marry?!” Big-Eye shuffled backwards as Payaha stepped onto the rock.

“Marry! Yes! I wanted to but was not allowed to. So I marked you to find you. I found you and watched you live in the world. Oh, hunter, I wasn’t mistaken in my choice. I did not know how to approach you, but apparently, that was not needed—you approached me yourself. We cannot marry spirits, but we can marry living ones. Yes, marry! Marry me, hero!”

Big-Eye flitted back to the forest and moved along its edge, hiding in the thickets, but Payaha kept following him.

“Marry me, the worthiest of living men,” it said. “And I will share with you the powers and the wisdom the likes of which you’ll never find around your River.”

Big-Eye peeped out of the thickets.

“What kind of powers? What kind of wisdom?”

“The power of health, the power of life. The wisdom of time, the knowledge of space.”

Big-Eye kept moving in the forest’s shadow, as Payaha followed him over the lit plateau.

“Best of all, hunter,” Payaha said, “I will tell you how to reverse the movement of the world. It’s the one knowledge that you strive for, isn’t it?”

Big-Eye finally stood up straight and showed himself.

“I need to think it over,” he said.

Payaha gave him three days, and Big-Eye returned to the land of the Yellow People.

He spent those days in one of their clan’s settlements. A Yellow man named Heron was his host. Big-Eye spent his days in silence, without saying a single word, taking very little food. Heron tried to strike up a conversation several times, but Big-Eye never went beyond one-syllable answers.

Then, on the third day, early in the morning, he finally said to his host,

“There is something I want to share with you, kind man. Would you listen?”

“Please do, good guest,” Heron encouraged him, and Big-Eye told him his story.

“I am looking to reverse the movement of the world. I was told by Raven that Payaha that lives behind the abyss yonder knows the way of doing it. I talked to the Payaha, and what I heard was a proposal of trade: marriage in exchange for its knowledge.”

Heron rubbed his chin.

“Why do you want to reverse the movement?” he asked.

“There are certain mistakes that I need to undo,” Big-Eye answered. “Certain things I’ve committed in the past will affect my people too badly. I must fix it.”

Heron thought over what he heard.

“Your goal sounds noble,” he said. “But the prospect of marrying a Payaha is awful. People from the plains don’t realize what kind of creatures they are—appalling beasts who have no human traits.”

“That’s what I was thinking. It promises to tell me everything after the ceremony, but will it? What if not? How do I escape?”

For many heartbeats, Heron looked in the clearing amidst the trees, where the sky began to glow with the rising Light.

“I shall help you,” he said at last. “But I will need to know the Payaha’s name.”

Big-Eye went again to the brink and announced to Payaha that he agreed to marry it.

“When will you tell me how to reverse the world?” he asked, and it answered,

“After the ceremony.”

The wedding was held in the land of the Yellow People, in accordance with their customs. Big-Eye stood on the edge of a cliff, overlooking the southern plain, when Payaha came to him in ceremonial garments shining like the sun. It stood beside the hero; it stank unbearably, but Big-Eye endured.

A devoted one from the Yellow People took their marriage amulets and put them in clay. He formed a clay roundel and fired it until it became hard. He then broke the amulet above their heads and gave each half to each of the spouses. The Brightest Light was the name given to the marriage. Happy, Payaha kissed Big-Eye on the cheek, and the kiss felt like a scorpion’s sting. But, Big-Eye endured.

“Tell me how to reverse the world,” Big-Eye said, and Payaha answered,

“After a night we have together.”

Payaha carried its spouse across the abyss and brought him into a cave on the other side. In that cave, decorated with earthly crystals and heavenly stars, they spent the night. For Big-Eye, it was like dying from black fever seven times, but he endured.

“Tell me how to reverse the world,” Big-Eye asked in the morning, but Payaha answered,

“After we spend another night.”

“Then tell me your name at least, my spouse!”

Payaha told Big-Eye its name. They spent a day together, and for Big-Eye, it was like running around the northern desert all day without rest and without water. They spent another night, and for Big-Eye, it was like burning to death and being resurrected eleven times.

“Please,” he gasped in the morning, “tell me—”

“After we spend another night together,” Payaha answered with a grin.

Another day they spent together, which felt for Big-Eye like rolling boulders back and forth across the River. Then another night, which was for him like drowning in the Eastern Sea nineteen times.

“Tell,” Big-Eye pleaded in the morning. “Just... Tell...”

“The River is the backbone of the world. Its source is the heart of it. You reverse the stream’s flow—you reverse the River, and thus you reverse the movement.”

Big-Eye heeded with the last of his strength, as Payaha spoke,

“You go against the flow—against the River. By water, not by shore. You toil and drag for as long as you can; keep to the shore, where the flow is weak, avoid the center of the River. You’ll toil for many moons, so bring a lot of food along. You’ll have to pass five rapids, and you’ll have to do it by water, so make your boat light. Four rapids are on the plain, and the last one is in the Western Mountains.”

Payaha pointed to the lightning rope that hung on the wall of the cave, sparkling with the sky’s fire.

“The last rapid is the steepest and most turbulent. That rope will help you overcome it, and once you do, you will enter the Otherside Sea. You’ll need to row straight to the west, to the place where the sun hides behind the water. There you will find the source.

Payaha pointed to the shining pole that hung on the other wall, dripping with fire.

“To reverse the stream’s flow, you need to stick that pole in its course. Once you do, you’ll have reversed the movement. Now, dear spouse,” Payaha folded Big-Eye in its embrace, and it felt for him like a thousand spiders clenching into his skin. “All that you’ll do when you leave.”

“And when can I leave?”

“After we spend another night!”

Before the next night, saying that he needed to relieve himself, Big-Eye left the cave and ran to the edge. Nothing could be seen on the other side of the abyss. Big-Eye shouted Payaha’s name three times. Not knowing whether Heron was on the other side and whether he heard the name, Big-Eye returned to the cave and spent another night there. It felt like being buried and then dug up on the other side of the Earth twenty-seven times.

***

Heron was on the other side. For all these days he’d been waiting there, hiding behind a mound of rocks, and when at last he heard Pahaya’s name, he sprinted back to the settlement. With a devoted one of his clan, they produced a spell, and with that spell, they enchanted a mosquito. That mosquito flew across the abyss and into the cave and bit Payaha in the neck.

In the morning, Big-Eye woke up and found that Payaha was sound asleep. He gathered his things and wrapped the lightning rope and the shining pole into Payaha’s cloak. He ran out of the cave and reached the brink of the abyss. He saw his guardian, Waratota, circle above. He raised his arms—Waratota swooped down and grabbed him under his armpits and carried him over the abyss.

Big-Eye ran through the settlement of the Yellow People and met with Heron for the last time. He asked him how he could thank him.

“Pass your gratitude to your own people!” Heron said.

Thus Big-Eye the Waratota Brother married Payaha and then escaped the marriage. The Brightest Light held out for four days.

Big-Eye left the land of the Yellow People. He sprinted through the southern forests, passed the Lands of the Red People, ran through the lands of the White People, and then through the lands of the Hu—all the way to his River.

 

*Big-Eye Goes to the Source*

Payaha woke up seven days after Big-Eye left. Its frustration was unbearable, its anger—irrepressible. It summoned eleven deadly dogs and sent them after its runaway spouse. The eleven beasts ran to the north, ravaging the lands along their way.

Big-Eye had already reached the River by that time, but rumors run faster than the fastest hunter. He heard the rumor of an unknown calamity approaching from the north and understood at once that this was Payaha’s revenge.

He ran into his clan’s settlement., and his clanmates stopped him with their spears ready. They did not recognize their Qaoron and thought it was some attacking Hu. Only Hala-Totala-Shkuu recognized the waratota’s feather on the intruder’s chest.

“Friend!” he shouted.

“Do you know this man?” others asked.

“What are you talking about, people? It’s the Qaoron, it’s Big-Eye!”

But Big-Eye rushed past his clanmates to the bank where reed boats lay. “Qaoron!” his clanmates called out, “Friend!” Hala-Totala-Shkuu cried—Big-Eye ignored them. He stopped at one boat and emptied it of everything that lay in it. He threw in the rope and the pole, found the longest staff, and grabbed the boat.

“Payaha’s rage is chasing me,” he said to the people behind him. “The eleven dogs are ravaging the lands in search of me. Stop them. Please, fellows, hold them for however long you can, and then run, hide.” He paused to catch his breath. “I’m sorry, brothers. I will fix this, I promise!” he cried and pushed the boat into the River. He put the staff into the water and pushed it against the bottom. He heard the splatter and felt the boat rock—Hala-Totala-Shkuu climbed over the brink.

“Stay!” Big-Eye yelled.

“I’m going with you!” Hala-Totala-Shkuu replied. Big-Eye did not have time to argue—together they swam up the River.

They went against the flow of the River for many moons, keeping to the shore, avoiding the center. They helmed the boat in turns; while one pushed, the other slept. Hala-Totala-Shkuu was exhausted, but Big-Eye was never tired.

“But are you sure you need to reverse the whole world?” Hala-Totala-Shkuu kept asking Big-Eye.”

“I am,” Big-Eye said and kept toiling against the flow.

They passed the first rapid, and Hala-Totala-Shkuu kept nagging,

“We don’t even know how long the way will take!ˮ he’d say.

“We will go on for as long as needed,ˮ was the short answer.

They passed the second rapid.

“What if we find nothing there?ˮ Hala-Totala-Shkuu argued annoyingly.

“We’ll look further.ˮ

They passed the third and the fourth rapid and heard a noise behind them—the eleven dogs were catching up with them.

“What if that Payaha lied and the shining pole is not enough to reverse the flow of the stream?”

“I’ll go looking for another way.”

“Friend, you are mad!”

They entered the Western Mountains and reached the fifth rapid. It was not a rapid but a waterfall. A sheer wall of rock stood in front of them. Thunderous water was falling down, surrounded by a cloud of sprays.

“Friend, I’m afraid,” Hala-Totala-Shkuu pleaded,

“Don’t be afraid,” Big-Eye answered.

“Friend, I doubt it!”

“Do not doubt. Hold tight!”

Big-Eye unwrapped the lightning rope. It shone like a flash in a storm, blinding Hala-Totala-Shkuu. Big-Eye threw it up with all his power—with thunder it flew, deafening Hala-Totala-Shkuu. Big-Eye thought he had to climb it, but the rope took him up itself.

“Hold tight!” he screamed to Hala-Totala-Shkuu, clenching to the boat, but his friend did not hear him. Deaf and blind, he did not know what to grasp a hold of and fell off the boat.

Hala-Totala-Shkuu swam to the shore and climbed up a boulder. His sight returned to him; he looked above and saw the boat and Big-Eye disappear up the waterfall with another blast of thunder. He wanted to call out for his friend but saw the eleven savage dogs appear on the other side of the stream. He hid in a gap between rocks and watched the dogs walk past him, growling. One by one, in a single marvelous leap, the dogs jumped up the waterfall and disappeared behind the edge of the falling water.

***

Hala-Totala-Shkuu could not climb the waterfall. He could not go around it and he could not know what happened above it. He had no other choice but to return to his people down the River and tell what he could tell about this astonishing story.

Big-Eye went off, and what happened to him then is unknown. Many rumors had reached the River Clans since, one more astounding than the other: that Big-Eye reached the source but could not reverse it; that Big-Eye reached it and reversed it, but nothing happened; that he reversed it and we already live in a reversed world; that he died in the waters on his way; that he missed the source and died in the waters after it; that he was caught by a fantastical fish living in the Otherside Sea; that the eleven dogs overtook him; even that he’s still rowing to the source, endlessly, incessantly.

Whatever the truth, the River People are waiting for Big-Eye to return. They changed their custom—no child with a fault was ever discarded again. They made the second day after the winter solstice—the birthday of Big-Eye—a special day and they celebrate it every year. Whenever somebody from outside the River asks them about the reason for their celebrations on that day, they tell this story, and whenever they do so, they end it with these words:

“Thus goes the story of our man!”