(First Story) Haudenosaunee Imperium: Deganawatha here
447 Great Peace, Ganana' ge Hagwadi, Dijutu' weha
(October, 1768 A.D.)
(October, 1768 A.D.)
Tagnaguya of the Wordmaker Clan of the Onondaga, one of the five nations of the Haudenosaunee Confederacy sat in the back of his mother's trading cart reading over a binding he had taken with him from home. It was the story of Deganawida the Great Peace Maker, and his evil brother, the creature called Flint. And the formation of the Confederation, the Great Peace brought to the land by the Wyandot Deganawida. The Confederation that had been gifted again and again by the Great Spirit, and now stood as the master of all it's rivals.
"Tagnaguya!" His mother's voice called out from the prairie grass behind him. "Help your sister to unload the maze. Then fill the cart with hide." Genesse of the Wordmaker Clan was one of the most trusted traders of the Confederacy. She was personal friends with a Cree Chief she had known since they had both been small chldren. Many of the Cree near by would do business with her and no others. Tagnuaguy folded his binding placing it on his seat with a stone over it, to stop the wind from stealing it away. His long black hair was tide into a bun reaching the nape of his neck, clad in thick leather with a fur pelt around his shoulders for extra warmth and high-moccasins that came up near his knees he was ready for the unholy cold of the prairie winter.
His twin sister Onatah was dressed much the same. But her hair hung down freely. She gave him an irritated look as she approached the cart. She stopped to a moment to scratch the nose of Kella the tuttu that pulled the family's cart. The animal had been pawing at her nose but always had a hard time reaching her snout.
"You could help with the trade you know." She said as the siblings reached for the first large clay pot filled with maze from their village. "Chief Kiche-Menashen likes you. Just being there could help us get more, for the Confederacy"
"What do you know? You just stand there and look at their cloths. Or disappear into the Cree village for hours at a time. You're the one mother wants to have take over when she can no longer work." Tagnaguya snapped back. They both grunted as they moved the pottery over to the Cree settlement's boarders.
"Please, I'm not going to do that. And it's not my fault if I find the Cree peoples interesting. They have so many stories. One of their elders has been all over the Cree lands. He and his wife tell me stories of the miles and miles of nothing but flat land and skies. And far off to the west where the earth bulges so high that it blocks the clouds and holds winter at its top even in the hottest days of the year. They tell me of the long hair of the Sioux and the ways of the Niitsítapi. And the days of following the herds of bizhiki as they roam the flats." Onatah let out a sigh, she had a strange far off dreamy look on her face. After a moment she came back, just as they turned to bring the second pot. "At least I'm interested in things. All you ever do is read your bindings. Stories can't take you anywhere real."
"I do more than that." Tagnaguya spat.
"Oh yeah... when you sneak out each moon. I know you don't have a girl you're going to. I've asked every girl in Buckaloon. You could have some of them if you want. Osha likes you, she watches you practice with the other warriors. So-"
"Stop talking about this." Tagnaguya said quietly as he reached to the maze.
"But I just-" Onatah started.
"I said stop." Taganaguya locked eyes with his sister. She looked down and away from him. A moment of sadness on her face.
"I'm sorry."
They didn't speak for the rest of the day, not even on the long trip back home as they held the ropes that guided Kella along the paths. Onatah had been right, he wasn't going to met a girl. He also wasn't going to meet a man. What he and the others who gathered were meeting for was far more important than anything like that. Far more important than his sister would ever think of even in her deepest fantasies of far off lands.
Each moon, when the night's light bathed the earth they would meet. Men and women from all five nations, six if one included the Algonquin. They dressed or painted their faces to not give away their true identities. Not until time was right. Not until they had their chance to correct the mistakes of the past.
The mistakes of his grandfather.
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