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Not a lot of people knew Dakota Cole was Native.
Dakota didn’t even fully know if he was himself until recently. His aunt had said he was Ojibwe, but what good did that mean when he didn’t feel Native? When his parents weren’t around to tell him what that meant, when he grew up never feeling a part of that culture, when he was white passing that nobody ever questioned what race he was?
How could you really claim you were something if you had never felt like you were ever that?
When Dakota had run away that first time, after he woke up in a hospital room with a strange new body that was his and wasn’t and moved far too efficiently and dangerously, he hadn’t been running without direction. He knew his rez was up North. He had done some research late at night one school night, curiosity had overcome him enough to make the leap into the mountains of confusing information, missing information, and outdated websites about who he was. He hadn’t gotten far before he had become overwhelmed, there were too many words that talked in too many circles and not enough words in other places, but he had found a location. And that location had been burned deep in the back of his mind.
The first time he had been trained by Waubun. He was a man of few words, instead his actions spoke for him. Dakota had stumbled up to his house at the crack of dawn, the man sitting out on his porch with a pipe in his hands, the boy drenched in sweat and dirt and cuts and bruises. Dakota had introduced himself, expecting to be turned away, but desperation and hopelessness made him ask anyway.
Dakota wouldn’t be turned away.
Waubun heard the name Dakota Cole and took one glance at his features and knew exactly what family he came from. Apparently he knew his great grandparents when he was a kid. They were from the Bear clan, a clan that was said to be protectors of the people, in all ways physical, from warriors to doctors.
Elder Waubun didn’t tell Dakota much. But he did show him a lot. They woke up together at the break of dawn. They sat on the front porch together, basking in the early morning dew, Dakota fidgeting and opening his eyes to sneak looks at Elder Waubun as they were supposed to be sitting still and meditating. And most importantly, at least to Dakota, Elder Waubun taught him how to fight.
Dakota had left that cabin, after being sought out by the Prime Force and feeling better about himself, feeling more collected, feeling more at peace. He was ready to take on this new journey, he was ready to face what the world had to offer. He was ready to be a hero.
It only made sense that after the second time the weight of the world crashed into him and destroyed him, beyond what he was capable of handling, he ran away again, back to where the trees felt like family and the air tasted like home.
He couldn’t tell you why, but that place felt like a sanctuary from the first moment his foot touched the ground. It was like the bones in his body yearned for him to come back to the land, to come and let his hands brush the wild grass and his feet to trek the trails and paths of wild peace.
The loss of Ashe had been a lot for Dakota. The team had gone through so much in such a short amount of time, from one extreme mission to the next, and he hadn’t realized it was piling up on him until he felt the blow that was that loss. He didn’t know how to handle it, how to digest these emotions that were consuming him. So he went back to his sanctuary, his home.
Dakota had asked Elder Waubun for help. Of course, his old master’s door was always open to him, but after a few nights at the cabin, Dakota acting like Elder Waubun had never seen, angry and sorrowful and vigorously training and demanding that Elder Waubun teach him more, the elder told Dakota he had nothing left to teach him, at least in the way that Dakota needed.
That’s when Dakota was introduced to Grandma Dakaasin.
Grandma Dakaasin was Edler Waubun’s older sister, an old elder with a sharp tongue and lots to say, mostly criticism. She was harsh, but in this harshness Dakota learned to see the care behind those words, the want to help and the desire to see Dakota heal.
“Miskomin-Makoons.” She called him, raspberry cub . “You have a bear spirit. Your inner soul calls for you to protect others. Like the bear, they protect their families, their cubs, with their lives. A mother bear is nothing to trifle with. But you are still so small, trying to do so much. You will need to grow in here,” She had put a finger between Dakota’s eyebrows. “In order to be a big strong bear and not just a cub.”
Miskomin-Makoons soon became the only name he heard. For ten months. It didn’t feel that way, every day was both so long and so short at the same time. Every day was so slow, starting with the rising of morning sun in the east, Dakaasin and Miskomin sitting and participating in something that Miskomin would come to know as smudging, to act of burning incense of tobacco, sage, cedar, and sweet grass to expel bad spirits and to send prayers in the form of smoke to Gichi-Manidoo , The Great Spirit, and asking for one of the seven grandfather virtues. Love, Respect, Bravery, Truth, Integrity, Humility & Wisdom. Then after that, Dakota was given tasks and chores, he would train, he would be fed, and he’d have an early bed. Every day was so much more digestible in the open forest air, the earth calling him home and filling him with the feeling of fullness, so much more than the city ever did. Every day was living moment by moment, breath by breath, it was exactly what Miskomin needed after everything had happened, everything he had failed to do. And yet, somehow, it all passed by in a blink.
The seven virtues were important to Grandma Dakaasin, it’s what her lessons were based on. “You already carry many of these virtues with you, Miskomin-Makoons.” Dakaasin told him early on, one morning with a cup of coffee between her old wrinkled hands. “But each of these teachings must be used with the rest. You cannot be honest without respect, you cannot have bravery and truth without wisdom. They are all connected.” The old lady looked over at Dakota, who was sitting crisscrossed on the old wooden porch, and with a sly smile she poked him in the side with her walking stick, hitting just below the ribs. “And Gichi-Manidoo knows you could use some wisdom.”
Dakota at the time was frustrated that he wasn’t training like he thought he would. With kicks and parries and dodging and fighting. But the way Grandma Dakaasin spoke, and of what she spoke of, it stroked something dormant in Dakota. It’s hard to explain. Imagine if something was always inside of you, but somebody else had locked it away and taken the key. And for Dakota, Grandma Dakaasin was teaching him how to pick locks.
_______
Manaaji’idiwin- Respect
Dakota was up extra early today, even before the sun rose. In the early morning stillness where the birds were still asleep he was full of energy, zipping from one place to the next, buzzing around the kitchen counter and making sure he had everything he needed packed. Today was the day that Grandma Dakaasin said they were going to go camping, and the old elder watched with a blanket around her shoulders, her cane in her hand and a small hunch in her back.
“Miskomin-Makoons.” Dakaasin scolded him in her raspy voice. “Go any faster and you will leave scorch marks on my wooden floors.”
“Sorry!” Dakota skid to a stop, dust he had picked up from all around the house staining the bottom of his feet brown. “I just want to make sure I have everything!”
“Cub, you have already checked three times.” The elder shook her head and turned around to the coffee machine that just finished spitting out the last of the steaming hot liquid into her usual mug.
“But this is important!” Dakota smiled wide, a smile that even Dakaasin smiled back at. “This is my first real mission since coming here!”
“I gave you a task of surviving five days in the wild.” The elder chuckled. “Not fighting one of those super villains.”
“I know.” Dakota shoved another thing into his bag. “But after a month I’m finally doing something other than just exercises and chores! No offense Grandma-” Dakota looked up sheepishly and Dakaasin who was raising an eyebrow, “But I need to get better, and fast!”
Grandma Dakaasin just scoffed, blowing steam from her mug. “You are so loud so early in the morning.”
Grandma Dakaasin looked over all the stuff Dakota had packed, and to Dakota’s surprise caught some things that he had forgotten and shoved them in his backpack pockets with a grumble. After coffee was finished and Dakota had finished the eggs Dakaasin had made for him, they were out in the front yard overlooking the forest just with the sun breaking the horizon line, the air crisp with the smell of early morning earth and just budding flowers. With a quick goodbye with Grandma Dakaasin’s eyes still half closed, Dakota had sprinted into the forest, the adrenaline at moving at top speeds through the woods, weaving in and out of the trees like a deer, bouncing off of rocks and stones with a power to soar into the air, it felt like he was supposed to be there, like he belonged in the wilds.
Dakota found a place to make camp. Grandma Dakaasin had taught him, and with his speed he had it set up in minutes.
The first day was exhilarating. Everything was fascinating, everything filled him with awe. He wandered, not without marking the path back to the camp, and stared up at the birds above, the fish in the river that he had found and was walking the banks of, the sun moving slowly across the sky. He felt free, like he was just existing right now, not in the past filled with sorrow and not in the future filled with guilt.
The second day was a little more focused. After sleeping in the tent for the night, he had woken up with the sun and decided to try to hunt. He had managed to catch some fish with his hands, and made a fire to cook them over. He was feeling confident, but as he sat with the moon rising and darkness descending, the crickets in the night trees and the fireflies in the distance did nothing to drown out his thoughts of being alone.
The third day he realized that he had been relying on Grandma Dakaasin more than he realized. Not for taking care of himself, no, he was fine in that department, he was still hunting and had food still packed away, but her absence left a space empty in Dakota’s mind that was normally reserved for her. For wanting to make her happy, for wanting to do her good, for listening to her or participating in conversations. And when that was gone, when he didn’t have those thoughts to distract himself, he realized that he was using her as a bandage to cover a part of him that he didn’t want to think about.
He had left everyone.
He had pushed those thoughts out of his head for so long. For a month and some. But alone for the first time since cowardly running away, the guilt fell on him. No matter how gorgeous the scenery, how calm the sky was, Dakota could not shake the thoughts from creeping in on the back of his mind.
William and Vyncent. He had left them to deal with the aftermath by themselves. He hadn’t even said goodbye in person.
He had failed. If he had tried harder, if he had thought faster, if he had been a little smarter, maybe he could’ve thought of a way for Ashe to still be with them today.
He wasn’t a hero. He couldn’t save everyone.
The fourth day Dakota didn’t wake up with the sun. He woke around midday. He didn’t really feel like hunting, instead he sat by the river and ate the last of his rations, and let his feet be gently brushed by the flowing stream. After he had finished, he had laid next to the bank and stared up at the sky, thinking.
What were they doing right now? The team. How were they? Were they okay? Did they miss him?
Because he sure did miss them.
Dakota almost didn’t make a fire that night. But as the cold had settled in, he had forced himself to roll out of his sleeping bag and start one with the matches he had. Sitting on a log and looking into the flames, Dakota watched the red and orange dance the fire put on for him.
They probably didn’t miss him, Dakota thought. Vincint and William were a good team. Dakota just dragged them into trouble. Hell, they were constantly getting put in bad situations because of him, with all the insanity, and the party that was totally Dakota’s fault, and Tide getting kidnapped, then Ashe… even before the Prime Defenders he couldn’t save her. It was probably better that he wasn’t around. They were probably having a great time, actually.
Because Dakota was a failure. A failure didn’t make a very good hero.
The fire was warm when Dakota was not. He sat there staring at it for a long time, his eyes unfocused and untuned to everything around him. Slowly, sitting with his chin resting on his arms as he leaned over on his legs, he felt a heaviness in his eyes, and with the bright image of light burning the back of his eyelids, they fell heavily closed.
“Ahow.”
Dakota shot up, his eyes wide open and hopping to his feet, the momentum sending the log flying backwards as he lifted his fists up to his face, and through his bleary vision he saw a woman standing across the fire, dressed in a thick brown dress that went to her knees, with a fluffy fur collared hood and black shiny boots that went up to her thighs.
“Sorry.” Her voice was low and calm, a smile on her lips. “Didn’t mean to startle you. I was taking a late night stroll and saw the fire.” The voice sounded like it was split in two, and Dakota felt something wrong with the way she was speaking. No, not something wrong. Something familiar.
As she spoke, the long vowels and elegant ringing of Ojibwe, exactly of what Grandma Dakaasin sometimes yelled at him in, overlapped with English, the words blending and both being understood in his head.
“That’s- that’s okay, miss.” Dakota took a deep breath and lowered his hands. Across the fire, light danced across her face. She had very dark skin, black fluffy hair that looked so soft and frizzy at the same time that only reached about her chin, a small braid on the left of her face leading into an eagle feather tied in her hair. “Are you lost? If you need I can help you get back to the town- or there is a cabin up the hill.”
“Thank you, cub.” The lady cocked her head, her brown eyes glimmering with red firelight. “But I am never lost in these woods. Can I sit with you?”
Looking at this woman, his eyes slightly glazed as he tried to understand what was happening, Dakota shook out of his confusion and nodded his head. “Or course, of course.” He zipped around, so fast that you would miss him if you blinked, and pulled his bedroll out of his tent and set it down behind where the woman stood, giving her a place to sit. “Here, if you want to sit-” Dakota stood by her, offering an arm to help her sit down like you would helping a grandma step off a curb.
The lady smiled at him, a beautiful, wide smile, and Dakota realized that she had something odd with her lip, a scar that made her top lip uneven, but it was anything but ugly. She grabbed his arm and let him sit her next to the fire, the cicadas chirping almost as loud as the crackles of wood popping. With a dust of wind, he was gone again, back over to his side, awkwardly standing, not sure as to what to do.
“My, you are very fast.” The lady stared at him, and Dakota shivered, as if his soul was being stared at. “It has been a while since I’ve seen a warrior with a talent like you.”
“Oh, I’m not a warrior, miss.” Dakota looked away, “I’m- well, I’m supposed to be a hero.” He could feel her eyes burning onto him, a slight power behind them. When she didn’t say much else, Dakota coughed into his hand and sat down, criss crossed. “Uh, my name is Dakota Cole.”
“Mashkode-bizhiki.” The lady bowed her head slightly, before raising her eyes once again, perfect eye contact. “Although, that is my spiritual name. Not a white man name like you use.”
The words sent shivers down his spine. A white man's name? Dakota thought his name was pretty native already. “Well, Grandma Dakaasin calls me Miskomin-Makoons, if that’s what you are looking for.”
“Elder Dakaasin?” Mashkode perked up, her chin lifting a bit. “You are her student?”
“You know her?” Dakota asked, excitedly. Dakaasin seemed to be a recluse, living on her own in the forest with nobody in miles. Dakota was surprised- well, maybe not. Maybe the random lady traveling in the same forest at night would be best pals with someone like Dakaasin.
“She and I go way back.” Mashkode smiled. “You have a good teacher, Miskomin.”
“I know.” Dakota nodded. Dakota knew that Dakaasin was giving Dakota a lot, she didn’t need to do any of this for him. He needed her way more than she needed him, if she needed him at all other than to run into town and get her groceries for her. But she was providing for him more than she could possibly know, her mere presence alone was enough to make him heal. “She is an amazing woman. I am honored to have her teach me.” Dakota was lost in thought for a second, before his eyes zeroed back in on his guests, and with a sudden burst of embarrassment he shot back up to his feet.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t even ask if you were hungry.” Dakota rubbed his hand through his hair. “I have some leftover food from dinner earlier, and if you are cold, I have a blanket in the tent still, or I have a water bottle if you are thirsty-”
“You are very kind.” Mashkode raised a hand, stopping his rambling. “I’m actually…” She looked over her shoulders, crossing her arms and hugging them as she did so, “A little cold, if you don’t mind-”
“Of course!” Dakota shot her a thumbs up before disappearing in a snap and grabbing the blanket from the tent ground, and reappearing next to her. She blinked, seemingly a little amazed by how fast he moved, but she quickly overcame it and gently accepted the folded up blanket he held out to her, wrapping it around her shoulders. Dakota re-took his spot across from her with the fire inbetween.
“Thank you.” She pulled the blanket closer.
“Of course.” Dakota answered, staring at her, entranced by this mysterious guest. What was she doing walking in the woods all by herself, so late at night? Why had she come to his camp, just to be by the fire? Was it not dangerous, Dakota knew there were bears and wolves and coyotes out in these parts, that was part of the thrill of camping by himself here. She only was wearing the dress, the one with stitched in lighter brown patterns of triangles and images, looking hand embroidered and trimmed with fur at the edges of the skirt and the end of the sleeves.
“I actually have a question for you, Miskomin.” The lady sat very straight, with very good posture. “When you hunt, do you know what you are supposed to do with your kill?”
The question made Dakota do a double take. It was a little out of left field, but Dakota had gotten used to these types of questions when it comes to being taught by Elders. Native people love to teach through real life experiences, preferably life experiences that happen in the moment, but also experiences that they can tell stories about later. They loved to teach, at least in Dakota’s experience, and these questions often were traps leading into a long story that Grandma Dakaasin would often catch him in.
He knew when to accept a gift from an Elder when it was presented to him.
“You thank it for its sacrifice.” Dakota answered the way he had been taught. “Because it’s life is a gift to you.”
Mashkode looked him up and down, her soft smile not wavering. “Yes… but also something more.” The lady pushed back the blanket and pointed to a pocket on her dress, a small emblem stitched there. It was an emblem of a buffalo. “You are right, their life is a gift. And you have to treat that gift with respect. You use all the parts of a buffalo, you would disrespect that life by not treating it as such. Respect is a big part of the hunt, and young giiyosewinini , you seem to carry a lot of respect with you.” Dakota watched this woman in awe, staring at the emblem on her pocket before looking back up at her face. When he met her gaze, he felt something strong, something powerful, almost as if something warm like a candle had hit the back of his head. “You hunt with respect, you treat Elder Dakaasin with respect. You hold great respect for your teachers and your peers, and for life. Don’t get me wrong, there is still somethings to learn.” Dakota watched Mashkode look into the forest to her right, into the dark, but it seemed as if she saw more. “Some things that will come with growing up, like not interrupting others or not getting into other people’s business-” She gazed at him slyly, “But I’m most worried about one thing right now. Tell me, Miskomin, would you hate your friends for the same things you hate yourself for?”
“What-” Dakota stuttered, a physical tightening in his chest. “How- I mean- they haven't,”
The lady squinted her eyes at him. “If they had done what you had done instead, would you hate them?”
Dakota felt the breath knocked out of them for this one. He wasn’t even comprehending why this lady knew this information, all he could feel was the overwhelming confusion of hate and sorrow and guilt. The guilt that he had done this, the guilt that he was the one who caused everything to fall apart. And he saw Vincint and William.
If they had messed up like he did, would he hate them?
He couldn’t hate Vyncent or William. They were his team, his family. How could he hate them?
“I- no.” Dakota choked out. “I would never hate Vyncent or William.” He declared, his breath still stammering and hands shaking.
Mashkode hummed, and closed her eyes, her face looking as if in peace. “When you kill a buffalo, you use all the parts. Every bone, every piece of meat, all the organs. It’s what it deserves. You respect your Elders, your peers, the value of life itself, yet not yourself.” The lady's eyes then snapped open, and with a swift flourish she stood up, the blanket billowing around her. “Respecting all of creation, all of the buffalo, requires you to respect yourself as well. Hold your chin up, cub.”
Dakota sat there stunned, frozen by her words, ice in his veins. It felt as if though every movement made by her, every word was another stake right in his chest. Through the flames of the fire, Dakota watched the lady turn away, one last sentence trailing behind her.
“Thank you, Miskomin for the warm welcome. Have a good night.”
Dakota didn’t remember falling asleep that night. One moment he was standing up to follow, to chase this woman who knew too much and talked too close to home deep into the woods, and the next his head was on the ground, wrapped in a sleeping bag and simmering embers dying in the firepit. The sun was high in the air and the birds were singing their morning songs, songs that he could whistle back to them. He blearily blinked back morning tears and tried to digest what happened last night. It couldn’t have been real, it had to have been a dream. He had seen crazier dreams before, after all.
Today was the fifth day, he was heading back to the cabin that day.
When he walked back, Grandma Dakaasin was sitting on the front porch waiting for him, a sudoku in her lap. She looked up at the noise of Dakota approaching, and saw that her cub was not running, rather than walking slowly, contemplating in his steps, the excitement of leaving a lot different then the tone of today. And when her gaze fell on him, she knew why.
Her cub was a blanket short, and instead he held a small carving of a buffalo in his hand, holding onto the rock gingerly ever since he found it by the fire where the lady had been sitting the night before.
And Elder Dakaasin smiled.
_______
Nibwaakaawin- Wisdom
“Where are we going?” Dakota trailed behind Grandma Dakaasin bored, climbing from tree to tree in order to slow himself and give him enough of a challenge to focus on as to not lose his mind at the slow pace that Grandma Dakaasin was traveling at. Grandma Dakaasin moved in such a way that wasn’t rushed in any form, her walking stick piercing the soft trail and her hand pushing against trees as she passed, either to respect them or to hold her balance Dakota didn’t know. The leaves tickled his face as he jumped, small scratches appeared from rough landings and calluses on his hands were starting to form after two months, but he had gotten a lot better at traversing non-traditionally through this forest that he was getting to know better and better.
“We are going to help one of my friends.” Dakaasin didn’t even look up as Dakota leaped over her head to the other side of the trail. “They need someone with gifts like you to help them. And it’s been a while since I’ve caught up with them.”
“Cool!” Dakota jumped down to the trail, sticking the landing with his arms up right to the left of Grandma Dakaasin, who walked straight past him. Dakota followed, slightly jogging to catch up with the elder. “It’s been a while since I’ve been able to help anyone!”
“I know.” Grandma Dakaasin sounded exhausted. “I can tell, you beaver. You're too full of energy.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Dakota asked, walking backwards ahead of the elder on the trail, trotting confidently.
“ Daga Gichi-Manidoo.” Grandma Dakaasin’s eyes flickered to the sky.
Dakota was picking up a bit of Ojibwe from all the yelling he’s sat through. Please Great-Spirit is what she said.
They arrived through town, a nicer part of it. Houses were single story and paint was cracked, and litter was on the curbsides, but people sat out on their porches and talked to their neighbors, teenagers about Dakota’s age rode bikes around to the nearest gas station and back. There wasn’t a lot in town other than the people themselves, just small shops like any small town midwestern place. A pawn shop, a book shop that reeked of moldy paper, a police station and volunteer firefighting station. Reservations can get bad, but this one seemed well enough supported and the community was strong. Dakota couldn’t help but feel a bit of jealousy. It was silly, he knew he was beyond privileged, but some part of him wishes that his parents had been alive to raise him in a town like this, with all his family and cousins and uncles and aunties teaching him everything from birth rather than blindly stumbling in like he arrived to a party an hour after it was over.
Grandma Dakaasin took him to an older ranch style house, with a dog leased on a chain in the front. When Dakota realized that this was their stop, he smiled wide and ran up to the dog, ignoring Dakaasin’s call to be careful.
“Hey there buddy!” Dakota crouched low, inching closer as the big dane laid still, a lazy look in his eyes. The dane did nothing in response, just lifting his head, and Dakota took that as his invitation to hop over to the dog and ruffle its fur, burying it in noises of cooing and happiness.
“Who’s a good boy! Who’s a good boy! You are!”
“Sister.” Dakota overheard a voice say, his good hearing picking it up, Grandma Dakaasin talking to someone who stood in the doorway. The two hugged, and exchanged kisses on the cheek. The lady in the doorway was maybe in her late fifties, a cigarette in hand and wearing sweatpants and a sleeping shirt. Dakota doubted it was Grandma Dakaasin’s actual sister, most people who were close just called each other sister and brother.
“It’s good to see you.” She said with the rasp of a seasoned smoker.
“Good to see you too.” Grandma Dakaasin’s cane tapped the ground once. “How are you doing?”
“I would be better-” Her voice picked up sass, the voice Dakota recognized as a gossiper, “But you know that storm we done had two days ago- that damn dead tree the neighbors refused to cut fell on my shed! How am I supposed to get my harvest if I can’t even walk through my damn living room because my mower is being stowed where my automen outta be.”
“ Howah .” Grandma Dakaasin exclaimed. “I’m glad I came with the Makoons , he’ll be able to help.”
“That small one?” Dakota pretended to not hear her, and instead nestled his face into the smelly fur of the dog who was starting to enjoy the attention. “For my whole shed?”
“He’ll be able to do it.” Grandma Dakaasin swore. “And he’ll be happy too as well.”
The next few hours would be the two of the ladies sitting on the step watching Dakota trying to figure out how to take the fallen tree out of the shed without causing more damage. The lady, who Dakota got to know her name to be Istu, which means sugar , walked out with two cans of Pepsi, one for her, one for Dakota, and a glass of iced tea for Grandma Dakaasin. It wasn’t too hot today, the sky was overcast and gloomy, but the humidity did settle in. It was slightly uncomfortable as it made everything sticky. Eventually, Dakota figured that he wasn’t going to be able to take it out without causing any more damage, so he had just ripped the tree out much to the surprise and screams of Istu, who was scared to death at this 17 year old kid picking up a 20ft tree by bear hugging it and lifting all by himself. However, even if he did remove the tree, he left a whole hole in the roof.
“I don’t know if I have the money to fix that right now.” Istu stressily combed her hair through her baby hairs that hung out of her dirty blond bun her hair was in. “Mama’s going to be so mad at me if I ask for more money for a repair man-”
“It’s okay!” Dakota jumped in, much to the smile of Dakaasin. “I can fix it up! I know how to use a hammer.”
“I don’t got any plywood though.” Istu sighed, her eyes staring at the hole that was crumbling in small little flakes around the edges.
“That’s okay, I got this one.” Grandma Dakaasin rustled in her front pocket, and handed Dakota a twenty she pulled out of an old worn brown leather wallet. “Youse run to the hardware store and get some cheap planks. Me and Istu will get the ladder and nails for you.”
Dakota smiled and snached the twenty, his hand going up in salut. “Yes ma’am!” And with a pep in his step, he sprinted off, leaving the back gate swinging open behind him.
The hardware store was small, barely bigger than the Istu’s house, and walking inside smelled of sawdust and old popcorn. There was only one checkout lane where a younger woman leaned backwards on the cash register, scrolling through her phone with the store's brand hat covering her eyes. Dakota zipped to the back where he saw the wood was, and a burst of wind came with his arrival as well as the squeaking noise of his bare feet on the tile sliding. His eyes were trained dead forward on the rows of wood that were stacked on the shelves, that he didn’t even notice what was in the corner.
“What the fuck.” A younger girl sat in the corner, sunglasses resting in her black sleek hair that ran down her back and over her shoulders. She was sitting on a pillow on the dusty floor, converse shoes criss crossed at the ankles, her phone dropped in her lap.
“Oh, hi!” Dakota zipped away from the wood, moving right in front of the girl, looking down at her and her black winged eyeliner and false lashes. He raised his hand and waved. “Dakota Cole! Sorry if I crashed your hiding spot!”
“Uh, no.” The girl scrunched her eyebrows together. “I was just chilling here, you weren’t-”
“Hey!” Dakota interrupted her. “Are you good at math?”
“What?” She tilted her head.
“Are you good at math?” He repeated, then pointed at the price tags on the shelves by the wood. “A tree fell on Istu’s house and made a hole about this large-” Dakota held out his hands wide, “And I only have twenty bucks to pick out wood. I need wood that is going to be good for patching a hole but I need this much and I only have twenty dollars. See, normally I would just get anything with my PD credit card but I kinda left that back in the city, and now Grandma Dakaasin only gives me cash when she needs groceries, and normally William could tell me what the answer to my math homework is but this is real life and William isn’t here and I’m bad at math.”
The teen blinked back in shock over the onslaught of rambling she was just hit with, but despite her frown she stood up, revealing her jeans and a bra-like crop top she wore. “Uh, yeah. Sure dude. I’m good at math.”
“Great!” Dakota smiled and moved over for her to look at the prices, and watched as her eyes flicked over all the options. She even asked him to show her how big it was again, and Dakota happily supplied it.
In the end, she ended up helping him pick out which wood, for a certain thickness and how much he would need, for exactly 20 dollars even.
“Wow, you're so smart.” Dakota talked to her, easily carrying the wood over her shoulder as she looked skeptically at the amount the body was able to carry without looking like he was holding anything. The girl had walked out with him out of the store, seemingly having nothing better to do, and instead of sprinting off with his super speed he walked next to this girl who had helped him out so much. “I didn’t get your name, mine's Dakota Cole!”
“Got that.” The girl hummed. “Name’s Amik.” Her hail trailed behind her like a veil, almost seemingly longer after she stood up.
“Thank you, Amik! You were a big help today.” Dakota’s infectious positivity seemed to warm her, and she gave a shy smile back.
“No problem D.” Amik nodded. She seemed to walk somewhat with a slouch, her hands in her pockets. “Who are you helping, anyways?”
“Istu! She’s a friend of Grandma Dakaasin.”
“You have family in town?” Amik tilted her head. “How come I haven't seen you around?”
“I don’t live here,” Dakota looked away, straight down the road. Cars passed by on the street, most with their windows down and one with music so loud it kinda hurt Dakota’s ears. “Just Grandma Dakaasin and Elder Wanbun, I’m just down here for… a break. Things at home got pretty dicey.”
“Oh. I get that.” Amik’s voice was mostly monotone, but something in the way she looked at him seemed to make him feel like she really got that. “How long are you staying?”
“I don’t know.” Dakota shrugged, moving the wooden planks to his other shoulder. “However long it takes me to… be better I guess. I made a mistake… that I’m not sure I’ll be ready to face until I’ve worked with Grandma Dakaasin a little longer.” Dakota frowned, thinking hard.
“What kind of mistake could you have made that is that bad?” Amik scoffed, and Dakota’s gaze snapped to her as Amik kicked a rock down the road, a small smile on her face like she wasn’t taking things too seriously. “You seem like a good person. Loud too. People like extroverts.”
Dakota wasn’t really bothered by her pushing, but he did take some time to think about it as they walked over the cracked and broken sidewalk, about halfway to Istu’s house. “I uh, I was responsible for someone. I thought I would be able to take care of them because I’m a strong person, physically, I mean, but uh, I wasn’t able to think fast enough the moment something bad went down. If only I was smarter… Like you-”
“If only I was stronger like you.” Amik scoffed. “Do you know what problems I’d be able to fix if I could just be strong like you? I’d have some people I would like a re-match with.” She cracked her knuckles, the bones popping loudly. When Dakota didn’t answer, she shrugged, and bumped into him playfully with her shoulder. “Listen, everyone has their strengths. You can’t be good at everything.”
“Yeah but I was in a situation where I needed to be-”
“Oh come on.” Amik rolled her eyes. After giving him a full toothed smile, she swung her arms as she hopped on the edge of the curb, holding out her hands to keep her balance. “Have you ever heard the teaching of the beaver?”
Dakota swallowed his protests. “No I haven't.”
“The beaver.” She started, her voice filling with inflections for the first time in all conversation. “Was born with the natural talents to build, much like you.” She nodded to the wood on his shoulder. “Sharp teeth, a tail for hammering, paws for placing.” She hopped off the ledge, walking across empty parking lot stalls. “The beaver is wise. He is resourceful, sustainable, and productive. He used his gifts for what he was made to do. Just because the beaver couldn’t do advanced math calculations doesn’t mean the beaver wasn’t wise.”
“I don’t think anyone can do advanced math calculations.” Dakota huffed, smiling at the life Amik was filled with, feeling a little better without knowing why.
“Ahow.” Amik giggled. “The beaver was wise because he used the gifts Gichi-Manidoo gave him. He didn’t try to fly like the birds, he didn’t try to dig like a gopher. He was just a beaver, doing what he was made to do. And you know what would happen if he didn’t?” Amik raised an eyebrow.
“What?”
“He would die.” Amik crossed her arms. “His teeth would pierce his skull and his own body would self-destruct.”
Dakota’s mouth dropped. “Beaver’s teeth can do that?!”
“Damn straight, D.” Amik cockily smirked, brown eyes framed perfectly by her dark makeup. “And your strength and kindness will kill you too if you don’t use it. Don’t stress about not being smart enough. Let the beavers be beavers and let the birds be birds and let the gophers be gophers.”
“Hmmm.” Dakota thought, biting his lip as he thought. “I guess that makes sense. Kind of. I mean, all of us… back home.” Dakota continued walking, Amik joining him back at his side. “Back home I have my best friends I roommate with. We kinda work like a team. William is our smart one. Vyncent… he gets done what needs to be done. He’s resourceful. I am the strong one. I guess… we all work together. I wouldn’t expect William or Vyncent to ever be as strong as me. That would be like… expecting a bird to be a beaver. Or a gopher to be a beaver.” Dakota’s face lit up as he started to put the pieces together. “Hey, this kind of makes sense!” Dakota spun around to look Amik in the eyes, but his blood ran cold as he turned to see nobody walking on the sidewalk beside him. Behind him all he saw was an empty sidewalk, a fast food bag lazily floating across the ground caught in the wind. He turned the other way, and all he saw was Istu’s house, and the open back gate that he had left just a couple of minutes before. Amik had just… disappeared.
She must have run off suddenly. Dakota frowned, an uneasy feeling in his stomach. But he had gotten the wood he needed. He hesitantly looked both ways before crossing the street, walking past the lazy old dane who’s tail flopped in the grass with slow thumps as he watched the boy who showed him kind pets return back home.
_______
Dabasendizowin- Humility
“Miskomin-Makoons.”
Dakota jumped as Grandma Dakaasin flatly barked his name, flicking the light on in his room.
He had been sleeping in the guest room, and it was very cozy, if not a little small. That didn’t bother Dakota, it was just a twin sized bed, a wardrobe, a mirror and a bedside table and no more room for anything else, but the clutter around felt more homely than his room at the Prime Defenders base felt like. A giant fluffy insulated blanket with native patterns down it could make you sweat even in the winter, and nicknacks such as crystals, a small table weight statue of a sitting native women with eagle wings, old stuffed toys and the like covered any open shelving while dreamcatchers and bundles of hung to dry smudging ingredients fell from the ceiling.
It was three months in, and Dakota had tried to go to sleep. He really had. He had adjusted his normal sleeping pattern to go to bed early with Grandma Dakaasin, but tonight his cycle was just not having it. No matter how long he sat still, lying in bed, or stared out the window overlooking the forest outside, he couldn’t stop the buzzing energy in his bones. He had thought that maybe if he had done some push-ups, maybe some jumping-jacks… maybe some sprints… it would help get rid of his energy. Yeah. He had been making a lot of noise. And it looked like he had woken up Grandma Dakaasin who was not the happiest.
“AH!” He gulped, standing up straight from the floor where he was doing curl ups. “Uh- Good evening ma’am!”
Dakota got a face full of jacket as Grandma Dakaasin threw a heavy overcoat at him.
“Out.” Dakota pulled the fabric off his face and saw her scowling and pointing to the door. “Do not come back until you are out of energy and ready to sleep.” And her feet shuffling away she grumbled to herself. “Aye aye aye this abinoojiinh… too much...”
Dakota found himself slipping on the jacket and slipping out. It was a crisp night, his breath visible in the air, the bottoms of his feet getting slightly cold, almost like the feeling of being wet as he walked across the grass. At this point his calluses were thick enough and he knew the trail well enough that he didn’t wince as he walked across pine needles and fallen branches, and his hands were calloused enough that when he fell it took a lot of force to cut his skin. He ran through the forest a lot, and he guessed that was what he was going to do now. Doing some quick stretches under the full moon’s light, his eyes sharpened and he felt the rise of excitement that comes with being awake and doing things at a time that you were not supposed to be doing things. Shots of thrill electrified his nerves as he did bounce lunges to stretch out his hips, and rushing through the last of his stretches he sprinted off, his feet at the starting point digging into the ground like a golf club kicking up turf.
When Dakota ran, his sense sharpened, everything felt light. The pounding in his legs, any pain he felt was like drugs to him, the rush of air against his skin that turned to pinpricks was as if he was racing light itself, trying to beat the sun to the horizon. Every pound of his foot was a connection to earth, a dance, his spirit choosing to fly. Running for him was freedom.
Originally his run didn’t go far, he didn’t know the forest well enough, but at this point he had made a new route that followed the river all the way up to the town, passed around the outskirts and even jumping some of the old rickety equipment at the public playground, and making a loop across. Dakota whooped loudly in the night, probably scaring some households as he skidded down a slide, barely there for a second before he was shooting back into the forest, bouncing off of rocks and swinging off of low tree branches.
He was running freely, making his way back towards the cabin when he thought he saw something from his perfierals. Without a second's hesitation, he jumped into a tree, both of his feet planting against the wood spiderman-style, and did a backflip off, effectively changing his momentum in a second. He whipped up, eyes searching wildly for what he had thought he had seen, his hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. The silhouet had been low to the ground… almost like a dog. Or maybe a coyote. Taking a light jog forward, he only heard the sounds of owl hoots and cicadas. He leaned forward on his tip-toes, but alas, nothing.
He should have heard it. But he saw it before anything.
A shadow passed through the full moonlight, not the silhouette he had thought he saw, but a larger one, one that was man made and mechanical and had swinging blades keeping it afloat. Confused he squinted his eyes up at it, and flinched back as a spotlight lit from the underbelly of the helicopter, the light landing on him and causing to hold his arms up to block the onslaught of brightness. His hear was drowned out but the thwump thwump thwump of the helicopter blades, and the wind picked up around his feet, whipping his hair backwards.
Dakota blinked back the stars from his eyes, and when he looked up, he just had time to see two miniguns sliding out of the doors of the helicopters, aimed down at the boy standing in the spotlight.
“WHAT THE FUCK!” Dakota yelled as he stumbled backwards, his super speed saving him as the deafening blasts of bullets unloading hit just inches from his feet. Pumping his arms hard, his heartbeat unheard through the whooshing of the helicopter, he sprinted forward, fear leaping up in his throat and confusion making him run blindly into the forest.
This wasn’t as fun as the first part of the run.
“WHY IS THIS HAPPENING!” He screamed, jumping over holes that would twist ankles and lumps that would trip with ease, but the helicopter took after him at high speeds. Dakota dodged, weaved, ducked, turned and sprinted but the light never left him. From his left, Dakota looked up at the sky at a second set of sounds of mechanical blades, and his heart sunk as he saw a second helicopter rounding from his flank.
He knew the path. He could lose them. He could run faster than them. He repeated. In his head, over and over. Get to the river. Get to the river.
Dakota never got to the river.
He fell, something pushing him on his back, and he toppled over, the sounds above him sounding like the flapping of thousands of wings. His face hit dirt, and distantly he wondered why he tripped… why… why- he was so tired. He didn’t hurt- he wasn’t hurt… he couldn’t be hurt. But why couldn’t he stand up? Why couldn’t he run?! Shaking, he raised his head, but his body was unwilling and as he tried to prop himself up on his forearms he couldn’t hold himself up. The spotlight shone on him from above, like the sun was looking down on him, and for a second Dakota could smell the smell of copper in the air.
And deep in the forest, as his eyelids fluttered closed, he thought he saw that four legged silhouette watching him, glowing eyes staring at him through the trees.
…
…
…
Dakota-
Dakota-
“Dakota?”
Dakota blinked, a pounding headache in his head, and his eyes tried desperately to focus. He rubbed his forehead and leaned forward, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. God, he hurt, and bad.
“Dakota?”
“William?!”
Dakota shot his eyes open at the familiar voice, and looked up to see William’s black eyes staring straight at him through his rounded glasses frames. Dakota stared at his friend's face, before wildly looking around the room, and he noticed the white walls around him.
A hospital. He was in the hospital.
He looked down, he was sitting in a hospital bed. He wasn’t wearing his clothes. He was wearing scrubs. An I.V. was dripping into his arm and a purple paper wristband was on his left hand. Instead of chirping of bugs he only heard the beeping of his heart monitor. Instead of the wide open expanse of his home he saw the four corners and tile floors of a cage he hoped never to be in again.
Vyncent sat next to William, and he was leaning forward as well, a chair pulled up next to his hospital bed.
“What is going on!” Dakota shot forward up, and winced out loud as he did so. That… that hurt. And… and took a lot of effort to do so.
“Woah woah-” Vyncent reached a hand out, placing it on his shoulder. “Don’t do that!”
“Why am I here!” Dakota yelled, grabbing onto Vyncent’s shoulder and trying to lean on him to stand.
“Dakota! Stop!” William shot forward, only concern on his face. He grabbed both of Dakota’s arms and forced him back down, and Dakota felt a flash of fear. William… overpowered him. Dakota laid back looking into his friends eyes, and pressed his shaking body back into the cushions, as if trying to ground himself. “You don’t remember?”
“Remember what?! Somebody better start telling me what’s going on or I’m going to-”
“You were de-powered.” William cut him off, as if the words were forced out of his throat. “You ran away… and the Prime Force thought you went AWOL. After they couldn’t contact you… and you attacked their forces they sent to find you… they had to do it.”
Dakota didn’t hear the rest of what William was saying. His face paled, and his eyes were wide as he stared straight down at his trembling hands.
De-powered?
That couldn’t be true… they couldn’t do that to him. They couldn’t… they couldn’t take that away from him. Without his powers, he was supposed to be dead! He wasn’t supposed to be able to be alive! Without his powers… he wasn’t strong anymore. No more being a superhero. No more saving people. No more helping those in need. No more late night runs, no more exhilaration, no more tastes of freedom. If he was truly de-powered, he should be too weak to live a normal life. Without his powers, he was useless, without his powers he was nothing, without his powers…. He was not Dakota.
His face was frozen but tears pooled in the bottom of his eyes, running down his face and dripping down his chin.
“Why? Why are you here then?”
“What?” William leaned in, trying to hear the hoarse whisper that Dakota had mumbled out.
“Why. are. you. Here.” Dakota hissed, snapping each word. “Why would you. Let them… do this to me.” His vision didn’t move from his hands. “Why… would you care about me… after I’m… useless… I’m useless.”
“What do you mean?” Vyncent leaned forward, his face scrunched up in confusion. “You are our friend. We care about you. Of course we would be here for you.”
“Your powers are not the reason we care about you.” William nodded along with Vyncent, but all Dakota felt was a dark pit growing in the center of his chest.
“I was supposed to be a hero.” Dakota whispered.
“With your powers, you are not better than anybody else. Without your powers, you are not worse than anybody else.” Dakota didn’t look up, but he heard Williams' voice and saw his hand slip into his. But… it wasn’t William’s hand.
Looking up, Dakota saw… not William. It wasn’t his face. William was black, with vitiligo in the shape of a skull across his face, with twisted black hair that was a little above chin length. This man was sharper looking, and had way lighter skin, with wild long hair that framed his face like a messy mane, layers and layers floofing out and cascading in messy tones of white and gray. His hooked nose was immediately noticeable, as well as his startling yellow eyes. Freckles flecked his face like splattered on by a paint brush, and his lips curled when he spoke.
“Your powers are not you.” Not William gently smiled, sharp teeth stopping Dakota’s tears as he stared shell shocked. “All of creation is sacred. You are sacred, Miskomin-Makoons. You are sacred not because of what you do or what powers you possess, but because you are a part of this beautiful world and you deserve happiness alongside every other aspect of creation. You deserve happiness, Miskomin-Makoons.”
Dakota’s heart stopped. His muscles were frozen where he sat, the paper thin blanket doing nothing for the chills down his body. The tears were starting to swell again, and Dakota hadn’t even noticed that the walls were no longer there, only an expanse of night sky expanded beyond the white tiles of the hospital floor.
“You were given the responsibility of these powers because we knew that you understood how to live selflessly and not selfishly. But I must ask you to respect your place and carry your pride with your people and praise the accomplishments of all. Do not become arrogant and self-important. Find balance within yourself and all living things.”
With that, Not William reached up and grasped the side of Dakota’s face, gently brushing a thumb over his ear.
“We love you, Miskomin-Makoons. Your spirit, whether powered or not, will always be accepted by us.”
Dakota gasped and his eyes shot open, and pushing himself up from the ground he spit out dirt that had gotten in his mouth. He was covered head to toe in mud, sweat, and his face was extremely wet. It looked like he had tripped running through the forest and face planted hard, maybe even hard enough to knock him out. As he pulled himself up to his knees, his hands were shaking violently, and he saw his hands were busted up from where he took the fall. His hot breath was once again visible in the late night air of the forest, and as he looked shakily at the trees around him, he recognized the path that he normally took. He must’ve wiped out hard… His head was pounding and he no longer felt the adrenaline of the run, instead, his legs felt like lead.
He stood up, gripping his arms as he realized he had gotten the coat Grandma Dakaasin had given him all crusted up, but despite that he pulled it around him tighter, the cold seeping into his bones as he stumbled forwards, spinning around in a circle taking his surroundings in once more.
Dakota swallowed hard, a lump in his throat, and took a difficult deep breath, and started to walk forward back towards the cabin, much slower than before, his head constantly snapping around, looking out behind him or for any noise that seemed like it didn’t belong.
Dakota’s pace picked up as he flinched. He just wanted to get back to the cabin. Maybe have some warm hot chocolate, talk to Grandma Dakaasin.
Somewhere in the darkness, a howl rang out, piercing the night.
_______
Gwekwaadziwin- Honesty
Dakota walked through the forest in the evening sunlight, staring upwards thoughtfully at each tree as he passed.
Grandma Dakaasin had given him the task of finding the tallest tree, climbing it, and telling her what he saw at the top. Dakota was determined, happy for the distraction from his racing mind, spending extra time examining each tree he thought was large enough to contend, and marking it down mentally for himself to come back to later if it wasn’t as large as any others he found. However, none of them seemed to stand out too much. He was leisurely strolling, enjoying nature, flowers fully budded for his fifth month at the cabin.
Walking through the forest, he stumbled along the riverside, following it down and deeper into the woods, feet light on the ground and his head untroubled when he saw in the distance a tree that he thought could work. He changed his path and pushed forward, and after a minute he saw a giant trunk of a tree that was bigger than any that he had seen yet, so big that it left his mouth gaping. How he didn’t know about it before was a mystery to him, but he excitedly jogged to the base and put a hand out, feeling the bark underneath. Just pressing on it, it felt the sturdiest a tree has ever felt, and he couldn’t contain his smile as he started to a branch he could jump to.
“What are you doing?” A woman’s voice rang out.
Dakota snapped to the voice, and saw a younger looking woman, who could’ve been anywhere between the ages of 16 to 20. She had a face that was hard to place in a box, she wasn’t conventionally pretty, but Dakota was astounded by her looks positively anyways. She had large ears with huge dangling beaded earrings, a wide brim black hat and multiple thick crystal necklaces of turquoise and abalone jewels. Her hair was braided into two lower pigtails, and the ends were so split and frayed they almost looked like feathers.
And she sat on one of the lower branches of the tree, both legs dangling down.
“Aaniin!” Dakota smiled wide and waved, greeting the stranger.
“Ayup.” She nodded her head, with a sharp jab of her chin. “Nanaboozhoo. What’cha doin’ here?”
“This tree is really large.” Dakota took a step back, neck craning upwards to look at this woman. He placed his hands on his hips, “Just wanted to climb it to get to the top!”
“Tch.” She clicked her tongue, and she shifted positions so that one leg was down and the other was on the branch. “Can’t, bozo. This is mine.”
Dakota stared at this stranger, her leather black jacket and black platform boots, and wondered how she climbed so restricted? If this was her tree, she must have come here a lot, and if she could climb in that stuff, she must be good.
“I hear the view from the top is gorgeous.” Dakota tried again. “I’ll be respectful, I just wanted to watch the sunset from the highest point. If you really want me to go I will, but I think it would be fun if we could climb together.”
The girl stared at him, squinting her eyes, before shrugging, standing up on the branch and holding her balance excellently. “Fuck, bozo. Don’t even know you.” She crossed her arms, and when Dakota didn’t say anything, she rolled her eyes and tapped her foot on the branch. “Shit, you coming or what?”
Dakota smiled in disbelief that his persuasion worked, and powerfully lept to the ground straight to the branch the stranger was standing at, the woman not even batting an eye as he landed on his toes, hands out to keep his balance. It must’ve been a ten foot jump, but she didn’t seem impressed.
“ Ambe .” She called, turning her back on him and starting to climb up the tree, moving elegantly and swiftly. She wasn’t rushing or racing, but she was definitely moving faster than a novice, her hands skimming a path that seemed to know exactly where each branch was, each jump, each leaf of the tree.
Dakota followed her closely behind, eyes focused on the back of her hair as he tried to politely follow. But he did pick up the pace a little and risked going where she was not to get closer and talk to her.
“I don’t think I got your name. I’m Dakota Cole.”
“Gaagaagi nindizhinikaaz. Bineshiinh nindoodem.” She continued climbing upwards, swinging across a branch with the strength of someone who worked out.
“Gaagaagi.” Dakota tried the name on his tongue. It felt right, like it itched a spot in the back of his mind. “I love that. I’m from the bear clan.”
“Hmm.” Gaagaagi responded, and as Dakota watched her, he realized that her being from the bird clan made perfect sense. She moved like one, hopping branch to branch much like a robin would, with the ease of one as well. Dakota wondered if he looked like he was from the bear clan. He was muscular… he did have rough calloused hands, muscular legs, and he did spend a lot of time in the forest. Not to mention his love for naps and his need to eat a lot of food. Maybe the clan he was born in did more for Dakota than he thought. He’ll have to use that excuse next time he falls asleep during Grandma Dakaasin’s lectures.
“So what are you doing here, city kid?” Dakota was surprised Gaagaagi asked him any question, and his face flushed.
“That obvious?” He chuckled, brushing his hair out of his eyes. He was growing it longer now.
“You seem starved.” Gaagaagi shrugged, and Dakota watched her form disappear behind the trunk, taking a turn to spiral around. Dakota put a little pep in his step to keep up. They were maybe twenty feet up.
“What does that mean?” Dakota called after her, but when he turned the corner all he caught was the swoosh of her black jacket and her braids as she continued her pace onwards.
“Often urban natives are desperate.” She sounded somewhere above and ahead; she had a voice full of shrill and hoarse tones. “Fuck, I can see it in your hungry eyes. You are the lost children of assimilation, and it goddamn hurts doesn’t it?”
Dakota caught up, seeing her back, and she turned her head so he could see her sharp profile, high cheekbones and beautiful angled nose.
At the mention of pain, the dark void in his chest seemed to squeeze, like someone had grabbed his heart and was digging their nails into his muscle.
“It’s not your fault.” Gaagaagi shrugged. “Your grandparents either were victims of a catholic school, or your parents moved off the rez so that they could raise you away from poverty or drugs or alcohol and in the process society taught them that being white was better. The world hates us, and you are still bleeding inside from what has been ripped from you. You feel it, but you never know what exactly is painful until you start trying to eat from the same table as Natives who have always known who they are, and suddenly you are drooling like a dog, hoarding any bits of information you can get to try to feed the hole in you stomach.”
Dakota was silent, each sentence felt like a punch to the chest.
“I’m not desperate.” He tried to say lightly.
“I hate liars.” The wind picked up the loose baby hairs of her braid and the leaves crinkled together as they pushed farther up the tree, the ground getting farther and farther away. “Shit man, you are just hurting yourself. Fuck.”
Dakota looked downwards at his hands, pausing a second as he clung onto a branch. Suddenly, he didn’t feel so energetic to get to the top.
“The white man wins when you forget where you come from. But throughout history, no matter what was thrown at us, Natives never died out. We survived. Because we have been given the gifts we need exactly to survive. We know who we are. And as soon as you know who you are, you will not just survive. You will thrive.”
“You coming?” Dakota blinked away the darkness on the corners of his vision. He had been staring forwards, stopped, and Gaagaagi had come back down a couple branches and held a hand out to Dakota, inches from his face. Dakota reached up and let himself be pulled up to her level, and as he stood he was eye to eye with beautiful black eyes so dark they seemed to reflect blue.
“Eya'” He mumbled, and dazedly he followed after her as she climbed farther up.
Dakota followed in silence and in what seemed like seconds or maybe minutes, he wasn’t really paying attention to the passage of time, they reached the top, Gaagaagi sitting, a slim smile on her lips as she looked out on the highest point, sitting down on a swaying branches and leaning her arms over another. Dakota timidly sat on a branch lower than her, farther forward, and looked out over at the horizon.
“Looks like we made it just in time.” Gaagaagi chimed, looking out at the brilliant red sun coating the sky in swirling pinks and oranges, the tops of the trees being hit with halos of light as golden hour descended upon the forest.
“Tch, so quiet now.” Dakota looked up at Gaagaagi. “Sorry I was honest.” She rolled her eyes and swung her leg, tapping Dakota gently in the back of the head. “Being Native is hard, but there's no reason to sulk. We’re also pretty cool too.” She hummed, before tilting her head. “Hmmm… I think you would be a good powwow dancer.”
That broke through Dakota’s contemplation. “Really?”
“Eya’. You have the legs for it, that’s for sure.”
Dakota watched the sun set, feeling a little warmer.
“Miskomin-Makoons.”
“Hmm?” Gaagaagi stopped watching the sunset for a second, looking at Dakota who spoke.
“My name. Miskomin-Makoons.” Dakota blushed and looked forward, not daring to look Gaagaagi in the eyes. Yet Dakota could still feel the beaming smile on the back of his neck.
“Raspberry cub.” She laughed. “Cute.”
Dakota turned and scowled at her playfully. “What about it?”
“No, nothing.” As she smiled Dakota saw a small gap between her front two teeth. “It’s a good name. Nice to meet you, Miskomin-Makoons.”
And together that sat on the top branches of the highest tree of the forest, and watched the red sun dip under the horizon over a peaceful woods.
_______
Zoongidi’ewin- Courage
Ten months went by fast.
All his hard work, all his effort, all of his pain and all of his strength merged in this moment, was shown in the rough calluses on his hands and feet, the cuts and scars up his arms and legs from running through the forest, knowing the path he had taken almost everyday like it was the back of his hand.
He hadn’t trained how he thought that he would be trained. Grandma Dakaasin taught him the old way, through doing. Through meeting his community, helping his people, learning his lessons head on in nature and through hard work. And when he needed guidance, she always had old stories ready for him, not giving him a direct answer but always advice that shook him to his core. Sure, he had to keep up physically as well, he couldn't’ go ten months without losing any skills, but that was taken care of by Wanbun giving lessons on the side as well as Grandma Dakaassin giving him her chores and teaching him how to powwow dance, which was more than enough physical activity to keep him fit.
Now, he was sitting criss crossed on the grass outside the cabin, eyes closed, a drum on his lap that he tapped slowly and rhythmically as he hummed a tune.
He was different now.
He now had a heading, and he felt something come alive in him once again since his failure.
He was fasting. He hadn’t eaten in four days, hadn’t moved much in four days. Every once in a while Grandma Dakaasin would open the front porch, but not say anything. Dakota’s head wouldn’t even move in the slightest at the noise.
Gaagaagi was right, Dakota was made to powwow dance. It was intensive, strenuous, like any sport. Dakaasin used to dance in her prime, and she was more than excited to see that Dakota had some sort of interest in it. Dakota remembered the first day that Dakaasin was trying to teach him, first leading with example, full regalia covered head to toe in gorgeous rippons tassels, bells and jingles that made her look like a powerful warrior. Dakota looked up at Dakaasin and saw his normally slow mentor come alive in her dance, her feet moving with more swiftness than he had when fighting. Dakota, watching for the first time, had felt tears starting to roll down his face. When Dakota watched that dance, he felt like he was home. He felt the eyes of his ancestors, felt the hands on his shoulders of his parents, and inside of him a fire that alighted, hungry to burn brighter and brighter.
Dancing wasn’t easy. Every dance had a meaning, every dance held importance. Dakota had wanted to jump into full fledged dances as soon as possible, but Grandma Dakaasin had laughed and said superpowered or not, there was no way he would be able to go as fast as he wanted.
But he couldn’t stop. It became a main part of his training, Dakota could go harder and longer to make up for his super powers, he just pushed himself. Week by week he consumed all the new dances Dakaasin taught him, every week practicing became his favorite part of his day. He moved like light and his feet barely touched the ground, flickering like fire. When his heart pumped he heard the drums, when his lungs burned he felt the breath of approval of all those who were dead, he felt at peace.
Dakota had found out his favorite dance was the grass dance, spinning in circles like a cricket, hopping and bells jiggling as he created music with his movements. It was this dance, that one day, Grandma Dakaasin and Elder Wanbun watching him pour his heart and soul into the dance and finishing by sticking a landing, arms outstretched to the sky and eyes wet and looking above, when Grandma Dakaasin said he was ready. She had disappeared inside and reappeared with cloth in her hands. When Dakota had reached forward and held up the gift, he had cried harder and buried himself in her arms.
Ten months had brought him here. Dakota now sat wearing brown deerskin baggy pants, in the same style as his superhero outfit that he had first worn ten months ago and that had been tucked away since. Red embroidered bear claws were at the hem of his pants where the ends met where normally his boots would be but instead fur moccasins sat. He wore his normal tank top that showed his midriff, But his headband now had ribbons hanging down from either of his temples, red and orange hanging longer than his hair that was now tied in a low pony at the base of his neck.
Dakota was ready.
The night was high. A breeze came up from him from behind, flittering the red and orange ribbons, pulling them ahead of him as the wind encompassed his back. His eyes remained closed as a thrum of power was felt through his bones. The steady steady drumming of his drum echoed from deep in the forest, massive thuds of footsteps that seemed to cause the trees to bed away in anticipation. Dakota listened to the steps until they were in front of him, stopping just at the tree line, one last drum ending at the same time of the last step.
Dakota slowly opened his eyes, looking calmly at what stood in front of him.
Towering over him, a hulking form, shoulders three times the size of Dakota and four times the height, reaching the height of the smaller trees, was a woman with thick black hair in several different braids that all connected with one big band over her left shoulder, so long that it almost brushed the ground. She wore a traditional dress, deep brown with jewels and beading dripping from every necklace, earring, bracelet and embroidery. She was barefoot, and when she breathed steam seeped from her mouth as smoke slithered in the edge of Dakota’s vision, coating the ground in an earthly smoke that reminded Dakota of the spirit world.
Dakota stood, holding the drum gently at his side, and he bowed his head slightly at his guest. “ Makwa .”
“ Makoons .” Makwa echoed, her eyes low.
Dakota repressed a shiver at her voice, the power seeping off of her akin to the power of the strongest heroes, like Harlem or Miss G. “I wish to finish my training by proving myself strong enough to claim to be a warrior.” Dakota said. “ Daga, teacher, let me prove myself to my ancestors, the people of the bear clan, that I can be a protector.”
“You think you are ready to go back.” Her voice was low and gruff, a grumble with the power of an earthquake. “You wish to prove it.”
“If you would allow me.” Dakota held eye contact, staring at a face covered in scars and cuts, but also, a tattoo down the middle of her face, a straight line. The smoke smelled of pine and the river, fire and ash. Dakota took in a deep breath, eyes closed, before raising his fists in a defense position, sliding one foot back. No matter how strong an enemy looked, Dakota was typically stronger, but something about this woman told Dakota it would not be the case this time.
“Alright then, let’s see you give it your best shot then, Makoons.”
Dakota used to play soccer. He knew the rush of the game, of being put on the field after being benched in the last stretch of the game, with the possibility of changing the tides. The energy made you shake with insanity, the adrenaline was power that caused tunnel vision that when you blinked out of it felt like you had blacked out and you barely remember what happened in the last ten minutes. Dakota had been in battle before, against supervillains threatening actual lives, and had felt the same thing. This… this was somehow more.
Dakota ran forwards, zigzagging up with strong lunges that left deep gorges in the ground, the smoke being cut like a knife. The woman barely moved, steading herself with a wide stance, hands out like a rugby player. She was a giant compared to Dakota, but that didn’t change anything. Dakota went up for a feint, pretending to punch with the swiftness of a Grass dance, before back spinning with his leg outstretched, going for a kick in the neck.
He made contact.
In that split second the tunnel vision fell, and his heart sank as Makwa didn’t budge in the slightest, his foot stopping like it hit a brick wall.
Dakota couldn’t react as he felt the strong hand on his neck, grabbing him and holding him up from the ground, not in a chokehold but more so as a mother cat does to carry its kittens.
Dakota watched the scarred face, ruthless strength and powerful tattoos change from their fierceness, to a huge smile.
“HAHAHA!” She bellowed, and Dakota curled in on himself, eyes squinted as he expected to be thrown across the field. “Good hit, Makoons! I felt that one!”
Dakota opened one eye cautiously. Her eyes were alight and crazed, but also warm and proud, a deep blackish brown.
Dakota was dropped to the ground and he fell on his ass in the grass, and he was frozen as the warrior in front of him crouched down to one knee in front of him, shaking the entire ground as she did so, birds taking flight from the trees.
Her smile was wide, and her eyes almost squinted closed as she did so. Just like how Dakota’s did.
“Ha!” She clapped a huge hand on his shoulder as he sat dumbstruck. “You don’t have to prove yourself to your clan, Miskomin-Makoons. We already know what you can do. And plus, that was one of the most true hits anybody has been able to land on me in ages, you should be happy with yourself.”
“But- but Grandma Dakaasin-” Dakota stuttered out.
“Hehe! Grandma Dakaasin is from the Eagle clan! She doesn’t know how we do it.” Makwa reached up and ruffled Dakota’s hair, pulling strands loose from the pony tail. Her hands were rough and calloused, just like Dakota’s.
Dakota frowned, his brain trying to catch up with what was happening, his hands still shaking with the buzz of battle. “But… how- how am I supposed to prove I’m ready to go back? This was supposed to be the test… to see if I was ready!”
On her hip he could more clearly see pouches of herbs and medicine hanging from her belt. “The test is returning, Makoons.” The woman smiled, baring sharp teeth, and with a gentle kindness she patted the side of his face, her hand large enough to probably crush his entire skull. “Bravery is represented through our clan. Each and every one of us has our inner strength we must find, and follow our convictions with that power. You must stick to those decisions so you can face your fears, so that you can live life freely for the betterment of your person, family and community.”
Dakota listened to those words. It was painful, like a workout. Like how he chased the exhaustion of lifting or running in order to be better or feel satisfied.
“You have shown bravery with how you have embraced your people here.” Makwa tilted her head, her long hair brushing the ground as she did so, “But your people you left behind need you now. The test isn’t to beat me, but beat your fear of facing what you ran from.”
Dakota suppressed the urge to throw up. Something he had learned, Native people always knew how to cut deepest into insecurities and the core of your person with words of healing and calls to action, whether you want it or not.
“They need me?”
“They will soon.” Makwa stood up, the entire earth bending with her. Smoke started to creep to her legs. “Be brave, Makoons. You have seven generations of fire inside of you, it’s your inheritance. Your soul is well equipped, Gichi-Manidoo gives you everything you need to survive. You’re Aborigional.”
Dakota’s head swam with thoughts of the city he left, of the streets he grew up in and his neighbors in danger. His head then switched to thoughts of William and Vyncent.
If they needed him, he would be there.
Dakota stood up, eyes unfocused and thoughts blinding, he barely saw the shape of the visitor walk back into the forest, smoke following them like sadge being burned and taking prayers to the heavens.
And Dakota felt the fire consuming his insides, the powerful drums in his ears and the absolute resolution that was all encompassing.
He felt brave.
And he knew he had a place to be.
_______
Zaagi’idiwin- Love
The next morning Dakota was packing his bags.
He stood at his bed he had been using for ten months, the fuzzy blankets he had come to know covered by the single suitcase thrown haphazardly across his bed. Inside he already had all his toiletries packed, some smudging ingredients he’d gathered during his time here, and some plain extra close Grandma Dakaasin had bought him from the local store after she had banned him from wearing his superhero suit, which also unfortunately, was his only outfit he had brought with him originally.
He had been standing there for longer than he probably should have. In one hand, he stared at the super suit he had dragged out from under the bed, repaired with stitching from Grandma Dakaasin.
In the other hand, he held the regalia Grandma Dakaasin had made for him.
He didn’t know why holding both in his hands felt so wrong at the same time. He should probably wear his superhero suit out, Makwa said his friends needed him. But with his regalia in his other hand, it felt wrong… like he was a traitor.
Music started playing from the other room. Through the open door frame, Dakota flinched at the sudden noise and saw Grandma Dakaasin place an old record on her crusty record player, one they had listened to many days while training, and Dakota immediately recognized the song.
“Hail - hail -” Grandma Dakaasin sang along to the tune of Come and Get Your Love , her absolutely favorite song and Dakota stared at her as she bobbed her head and pointed at Dakota.
“ What's the matter with your head? Yeah-”
Dakota smile-grimaced, like he was pretending to be embarrassed but not really. Setting both down on the bed, he walked out in the other room and pointed back at her. “ Hail- hail -”
“ What's the matter with your mind -”
“Miskomin-Makoons,” Grandma Dakaasin smiled, and with a pep in her step came next to Dakota and patted him twice on the cheek. “Dancing is healing.” She grabbed his hands and started to swing him the way that old people like to dance, back and forth. It wasn’t fast, she was hobbling a little, but Dakota allowed himself to roll his eyes and dance with her, the lively beat drowning out his thoughts. Even towards the end of the song he found himself genuinely smiling, and even did a small spin with Grandma Dakaasin, who finished with a deep chuckle and fanned herself with a hand.
“Oh, I’m getting too old.” the song finished, moving onto the next track. “But it is my favorite song.”
“I don’t know, Grandma.” Dakota crossed his arms. “You seemed like you could keep up.”
She leaned up against the counter, and for a second Dakota was worried as she rubbed her back before turning and reaching to the cabinet for a glass for water.
“What’s bothering you, Miskomin-Makoons?” She filled the cup with ice cubes and water and sat it on the counter with a clink.
Dakota groaned, before sitting down at the counter. “I don’t know.” He rested his chin in his hands. “I feel guilty. I feel guilty for leaving my friends in the first place… but now I don’t want to leave you behind. I feel like…” Dakota looked down, “I feel like I’m home. Ugh!” He looked at the ceiling dramatically. “It’s a lose-lose!”
Grandma Dakaasin listened to him, taking a long sip of water. When she put it down, she set her hands on her hips.
“Cub, we will always be your home. This land will always welcome you back.” She looked out the window. “But your journey isn’t stationary here. You are called to be someplace else.” Grandma Dakaasin looked at Dakota’s face, lips pressed together. After a second, she seemed to release some tension Dakota didn’t even realize she was holding. “You will do okay, Miskomin-Makoons. I trust you, and more importantly, I trust my teaching.” She turned and with her cane hobbled back to the entrance of Dakota’s room, and started to pick at his suitcase. “Do you have your toothbrush? Your socks?”
“Grandma!” Dakota stood and ran to meet her, grabbing a shirt out of her hand she was trying to refold. “I’ve got it all, don’t worry.”
“Hehe. I guess I’m just a worrier.” She huffed, hands resting on the bed.
Dakota finished folding the shirt and set it down, and looked at Grandma Dakaasin. Her old wrinkled face and her long silvery hair, the smell of coffee always lingering on her. Dakota never had a family, his first family was always the Prime Defenders, but Grandma Dakaasin might as well have been his real Grandparent. She had taught him everything he didn’t know he needed and more, her harsh words and lessons tore down parts of him that were poison inside of him and she encouraged the growth of beautiful things in the waste. She had become the most respected person in Dakota’s eyes, and Dakota didn’t know how to tell her.
Grandma Dakaasin lifted her arms in surprise as Dakota dove forward and hugged her, almost toppling her over.
“Ahow cub!” She laughed. “Be careful! I’m not very balanced.”
Dakota smiled, resting his chin on her shoulder. “Miigwetch, Grandma.”
When he pulled away, his eyes were a little red, but he smiled nonetheless. Grandma Dakaasin mirrored his expression, and looking away she brushed off the front of her dress before walking forward to his suitcase. Dakota watched as she picked up his two outfits, his superhero suit and his regalia, and she rubbed the fabric with her thumbs.
“I think you should wear this one out.”
_______
Debwewin- Truth
Truth is represented by the turtle.
Dakota Cole took several buses and ubers into the city, tears falling down his face that he quickly brushed them away as he drove one last time down the main road of the reservation. It was a several hour drive, which he entertained himself with his drum he softly tapped so as to not bother anyone, and the list of Native music Grandma Dakaasin had given him that he listened to with his headphones.
The teachings on truth allows you to believe that a Power greater than yourself could restore you to being the complete person you were created to become.
Dakota felt some relief as they entered New Haven and the entire city wasn’t on fire like his anxiety was making him to believe. He walked slowly into the hall of Defenders, noticing how empty and unused it was. That made his worries spike, not just a little but a lot, but he took a deep breath and kept walking, drumming the drum slowly.
He eventually made it to the old warehouse, the rubble of Prime Defenders HQ and smiled as he heard the distant sounds of what he thought were people coming from the rubble.
This will allow you to see that though the journey may be slow, you need to keep moving forward as you have not yet met your destination.
It didn’t take much investigating to see a hidden path into the rubble, and Dakota squeezed through the path following the noises of what sounded like training. He exited into a big open space that seemed well lived, and took in the room in front of him. And his friends did the same, looking at him with shock and confusion, taking in his long hair, familiar black mask on his face and black tank, but new pants, deerskin with red bear paw embroidery, and bare feet.
“Dakota?”