You imagine me a meek woman. Dress me in a billowy pink dress sewn from rough silk decorated with powder-blue ribbons – a doll on display. But locked in this cabin, who will see me? Grandfather Cedar? Brother Bluejay?
Sister Sun hasn’t touched my skin in ages. Yes, I will use that word because I know neither month nor year. You have turned me into a pale-faced ghost.
But watch out, my friend. Throughout my days of confinement, I have summoned my ancestors: Bear, Raven, Beaver. Became strong. Soon I will fly from this prison, leaving Coyote to exact my revenge.
I might be stepping outside my bounds on this subject, but I know a Makah woman who disappeared years ago. I knew of her from childhood. She grew into a lovely young lady, then “disappeared.” This story is for her.
Up From the Ashes 