I awoke from a bad dream. No wonder, the dream catcher that hung over the bed was broken. My aching body told me that I should stay put, but I got out of bed. Someone had cleaned and tidied the long-house after the fight last night. The blood is gone.
Somehow, I found my moccasins. I slipped my flint knife into my belt and went outside and into the brightness of the day. The body I dragged outside last night was gone.
I staggered down to the pond. A reflection of a young man covered in blood looked back at me. I scoop water up and applied it to my face before washing my body.
I checked my reflection again. A man stood behind me. He was fully clothed in warm robes, a bloody knife in his hand. His was the head, I tried to remove last night.
“Some fight,” he said. “For a while I thought I was done.”
Last night, I thought likewise. “What are your plans, Father?” My words sounded strange. This was the first time I had called him father. Up until last night, I always referred to him as Sasquatch.
“We're going to have a feast. It's not every day a man can welcome a son home.” He pointed the knife at a carcass hung in a tree. “I skinned the bear you killed. I hope you don't mind.”
“Not at all.”
“Come inside and eat,” he said. “It’s been too long. We have a lot of stories to share, questions to answer.”
That’s the understatement of my life. I lay awake nights thinking of all the things that I would ask him. Questions that I would ask Sasquatch, who was always there for me, and of my father, who abandoned my mother and me.
I finished washing and went back inside. He followed with bowls of fried meat, more than likely the loser of last night’s fight.
He passed me a bowl and two sticks. I placed the useless sticks next to the bowl and picked up a piece of meat with my fingers.
He held his sticks in his right hand and used them to pick up his food. “You have questions for me?”
There are many. I want to know about his relationship with my mother. Why has she not said anything about him?
I trust him, but does he trust me. I decided to start with the easy questions to find out. “Why do you dress up as Sasquatch?”
His Sasquatch suit hangs in the corner. The pants and jacket were made of bearskin. A wooden frame formed the skull on which the bearskin is glued.
He turned towards the corner. “To become my other self.”
I am baffled. “Do you have a demon inside you?”
“You could say that. People round here know me as a powerful shaman. Who showed up one day dressed in strange clothes and started doing miracles using...