Waubgeshig Rice - Moon of the Crusted Snow

Next to Jacob’s body, wrapped in old, tattered blue sheets, was his cousin, Dion McCloud. He had shot himself a few days later, near the tree where Jacob had died. One suicide often led to another among the young people, and the compounding tragedies squeezed the stammering heart of the reserve.

In the next row were mostly people who had died of natural causes. Many were elderly. Johnny Meegis was neatly lined up with the rest of them.

“Journey well, Johnny,” said Tyler.

“He’s definitely on his way to a better place than this,” muttered Isaiah. “We don’t gotta do anything else, do we?”

“You said they had a ceremony at his house?” asked Evan.

“Yeah.”

“Nah, I don’t think we gotta do anything. Just pay your respects on your own, I guess.”

Isaiah and Tyler nodded silently.

“Might as well go home.”

Evan pulled at the chains to shut the large garage door, shrouding the bodies once again in darkness. He knew they’d be back, likely sooner than later.

Nicole looked out the front window at the still trees and the settled snow. It looked calm. She opened the door and took a step halfway out to gauge the temperature. It felt relatively mild, given the frigid weather they’d endured so far this winter. It seemed like a good afternoon to take the kids for a walk.

She bundled up Maiingan and Nangohns and sat them on the front porch while she put on her snowshoes to walk around the house to get the wooden sleigh from under the back steps. The thin wooden straps of the basket were blistered and worn, but its long skis slid smoothly across the thick snow. It still seemed to work well, but Nicole wondered how much her son and daughter would weigh it down.

“Aambe maajaadaa, binoojiinyag,” she said. “Let’s go, kiddies.”

The boy bounded down the stairs, while Nangohns hesitated. She whined as she saw her brother take a seat at the front of the sleigh. Her pleas verged on tears before her mother decided to step in.

“Give your sister the front,” she commanded. “You’re taller. You can see over her head.”

He shimmied back in his thick blue snow pants to let his sister onto the sleigh. She nestled in for the ride as Nicole called out, “Okay, you guys ready?”

With the leather strap wrapped around her thick deer-hide mitts, Nicole tugged at the sleigh. It moved easily across the snow; the load of children felt a lot lighter than she expected. Maybe we’ll go a little farther then , she thought.

The thick cloud cover insulated them from the stinging air of a clear, windy day. It reminded Nicole that there would be an end to this season, as there always was. At times, though, she wasn’t so certain. Everything was different. Things they had come to rely on had fallen apart and their community had been turned upside down. There were days when she wasn’t sure if she was awake or dreaming.

But this was real, and she was sure of it. She was sure of her children’s warm skin and beating hearts. She had felt their breath close to her as she dressed them for this trip outdoors. She was determined that they would survive and thrive on this land, despite the building sickness and despair around them. She turned to look behind her. “You guys doing okay?”

“Yeah, Mommy.”

“Okay, good. We’ll just go a little bit down the road. Maybe we’ll go see Grandma and Grandpa.”

That meant her parents. Evan’s parents were known by the Ojibwe words for grandfather and grandmother — mishomis and nookomis (or kookom, which was interchangeable) — while Gary and Theresa McCloud went by the English words. It was really just to differentiate the sets of grandparents, although there was some logic to it, given that Dan and Patricia spoke more of the language in their home.

Up the road, Nicole noticed someone crouched over in the ditch, digging at something. She could only make out a blue figure, but as they approached she recognized Meghan Connor, the sole woman from the group of refugees who had come after Scott.

Meghan heard the sleigh on the snow and stood up to see them coming. “Hey there.”

“Hi,” replied Nicole. “Staying warm?”

“Yeah, I’m just checking on some rabbit snares. No luck so far.”

Nicole scanned the snow-covered ditch in both directions. “I don’t think the rabbits make burrows this close to the road. It might be a while before they come back this way.”

“Oh, right. This used to be the road. I forgot.” Meghan readjusted her wool toque while she looked down at the snow to hide her embarrassment.

“Where’s the rest of your crew?”

“The other guys went to check more traps. They’re all spread around.”

“You guys got enough to eat over there?”

“Yeah, I think so. Haven’t been too hungry yet anyway.”

The days after the second wave of newcomers arrived had been tense and awkward. After Scott had killed one of the refugees, Terry and Walter had felt obliged to take them in — though they hadn’t been planning to turn them away. They moved quickly to house the three surviving members of the group in Walter’s basement while they made arrangements for more long-term housing.

Brad, his wife Meghan, and the third man, Alex Richer, mourned their friend while they settled in to their new reality. Walter and his wife did what they could to make them feel at home, cooking moose and deer and sharing stories about the community and the people who lived there. All three helped with chopping and piling wood and cooking. Eventually Brad and Alex joined Walter when he set and checked rabbit snares.

After a month, the newcomers had moved into the row of duplex bungalows. While many of the original inhabitants had moved in with other family, some remained there, including Cam. Nicole pictured the row of brown duplex homes and wondered whether the bush on that end of the community yielded enough wildlife to feed these white people. She also wondered how well they knew how to trap.

Meghan stepped up from the dip where the ditch used to be. Her narrow aluminum snowshoes sank slightly into the crust of the snow. She smiled at the children in the wooden sled. “Hi there, what are your names?”

“I’m Maiingan, and this my sister Nangohns,” the boy said.

“Aaniin!” the girl piped up from the front.

“Those are nice names!”

“We were going a little stir-crazy in the house all morning,” said Nicole. “I decided to take them out for some fresh air.”

“That’s a good idea. At least it’s not windy out today.”

Nicole noticed Meghan’s gaunt cheeks and the heavy purple circles shadowing her bright blue eyes. It shocked Nicole, who remembered her looking healthier. She couldn’t remember the last time she had seen her, though. Most people just let the visitors be in the small pocket the community had granted them.

“You’re Nicole, right? Evan’s wife?”

“Sort of. We were planning on eventually making it official but all this happened. And I know you’re Meghan.”

“I guess pretty much everyone around here knows our names, eh? There’s no hiding.”

“Well, if anyone can hide in the snow, it’s you guys.”

Meghan let out a nervous chuckle.

“I’m just kidding,” assured Nicole.

They both giggled. Then Meghan held her stomach and leaned over in uncontrollable laughter. She caught her breath and stood up. “Sorry,” she said. “I guess I needed that.”

Nicole guessed Meghan was a little older than her, but not by much. But she had aged. She looked malnourished, exhausted, and even traumatized. And Nicole knew who was the root of that trauma. She felt sympathy but wasn’t sure if she wanted to connect with this woman, or how to do it while staying out of Scott’s way.