"Where did you bury your mom?"

A short-story reply to an ask on the ask blog connorfemway on tumblr.

Also, as a song recommendation while you read, "My Love" by Sia. I wrote this while listening to that song.

Enjoy.

"Ratonhnhaké:ton!"

Small, bare feet trod the way up the dirt path that weaves into the depths of the forest. The trees are still, the animals silent or fled, the smoke chasing them away. Despite the raging fires having calmed, the smoke lingers on in the bottom of the valley of Kanatahséton.

"Ratonhnhaké:ton, wait! It is dangerous!" the pudgy boy pants as he finally reaches the person who he follows so diligently after. The young girl wears a stony face, cradles a large fur in her small arms.

"Go home, Kanen'tó:kon," the young girl is agitated, desperately hiding the sadness that looms somewhere in the background of her mind. What she carries is of the utmost importance.

"We aren't allowed to leave the valley! The Clan Mother will be angry!" the chubby boy speaks their native language. He wears concern on his face, yet does not step into the way of his friend.

"I must do this," Ratonhnhaké:ton sports a bleeding cheek and a black eye. She stops only to cough, as many of the villagers now do. The fire had burned for days, and now the valley was a deserted wasteland. With the animals gone, there was little food. With the destruction of the fire, there was no shelter. Rebuilding would take time.

"You can't…" the boy reaches out to grab his friend's arm. He is shoved away violently, and this causes the fur to fall to the ground as well. The young girl wears an expression of anger and grief.

"Go home, Kanen'tó:kon!" she shouts in his face, clenching her small fists, "I will do this and you will not stop me!"

The boy's expression is hurt. As the young girl turns instead to the dropped fur, her long double braids bounce on her chest.

"You made me drop her," she mutters, dropping to her scraped knees to pull the bundle back into her arms. Some of the ashes contained within escape, flutter about before they rest in the vegetation.

"…You cannot dig the hole on your own," the boy offers in a desperate attempt to accompany his friend up the hill, out of the valley. Ratonhnhaké:ton stands up with the bundle in her arms. It is now that Kanen'tó:kon takes note of the slight way in which his friend's legs quiver. She is weak, famished. Beaten by an unknown white man, he couldn't help but admire her strength in confronting the men who could shoot fire from the metal in their hands. She had yet to eat after these days as well, dodging the Clan Mother's attempts to provide food for her now rogue granddaughter. He had worried for her, and now it was his chance to help her.

Normally shy and passive, Kanen'tó:kon is taking a leap of faith. His friend was known for many things, one of which was her strong and independent nature.

But Ratonhnhaké:ton appears to consider this statement. Digging the hole would be taxing after the travel necessary to reach the spot she had in mind.

"Alright," she nods, then quickly adds, "As long as you don't tell anybody."

"I promise," the boy offers a misplaced smile.

As the trail twists and turns up the slope and out of the valley, the air becomes fresher. Animals reappear, hiding amongst vegetation. Deer flee from sight, prancing over rocks and felled trees. The sun shines overhead, winking at the pair of children who walk in silence. Kanen'tó:kon's eyes are planted on Ratonhnhaké:ton's bare feet.

The small feet are dirty, scratched up. How she had lost her shoes, he couldn't guess. He was tempted to offer his own, but felt it would only incur wrath. He'd been privileged to be able to follow along after her, after all. Better not to push it.

It was a testament to her strength, he figures. She was very, very strong. Strong enough to carry her mother up the hills and out of the valley, almost all on her own. It made Kanen'tó:kon respect his friend all the more.

At the top of the valley, the children turn to look back. Kanen'tó:kon pants with the exertion, while Ratonhnhaké:ton takes her time surveying the area. From this vantage point, they may look upon their decimated village. Longhouses have been burnt to the ground. Smoke wafts up into the sky in small rivulets.

"How much farther, Ratonhnhaké:ton?" the boy looks around the area, beginning to feel nervous. They are out of the valley, an area restricted for its dangers. Bears lurked in these areas, among other things. Rumors were that beyond the valley was where the white men lived.

"Not far," she says, and prompted to continue she does, straying from the path. This fact upsets her companion, who trots in place for a moment, deliberating whether or not it would be a good idea to contest her. Finding it useless, he follows along, hands twitching with nervous anticipation of the danger that is supposed to lurk in this place.

Upon a cliff overlooking the Kanatahséton stands a tall willow. It's long limbs extend over the edges of the cliff to brush fondly at the open air. Growing around the tree is tall grass, which Ratonhnhaké:ton pushes out of the way as she makes her way to the bottom of the tree.

"It is beautiful," Kanen'tó:kon smiles up at the waving limbs of the great willow, "I wonder if anyone has ever climb to the top!"

"My mother did," the girl gets on her knees in the dirt at the base of the tree, setting the fur on the ground with care. She sighs deeply before she continues talking, "She climbed all the way to the top with my father. He wrote about it in his journal."

"…Oh," Kanen'tó:kon scratches the back of his neck. A new question falls onto his lips, but he dares not speak it. If his friend's father was not well known among the people of their village, then he was likely dead. At least, that was the norm. Never had it occurred to the boy that the girl was much more pale in skin color than he.

"Right here," the girl digs her fingers into the dirt. She lifts a handful of it up to show her friend, lets it fall between her fingers.

Together they kneel in the dirt, claw at it with small hands. Kanen'tó:kon grows tired after a while of digging, but he is determined not to give up. If Ratonhnhaké:ton could do it, then so could he, right?

"It is deep enough," the children with muddy arms pant, take in the clean air. The hole is deep enough to please the young girl. "My mother will be happy here."

"Do you think so?"

"I know so."

The ashes wrapped in fur has been placed at the bottom of the hole. Both children sit and stare at the bundle, as though it will suddenly start moving. But it is not so, and the young girl can hardly stare into the hole and think that her mother now lies within.

"Should we say something?" Kanen'tó:kon offers, looking unsure of himself. Funerals were not a common thing. Their people were normally not buried in such a matter.

Ratonhnhaké:ton bites down on her lower lip. In her dirty hands she twists one of her long braids.

Birds sing in the branches above the children. A wind passes them by. The afternoon begins to set in. It is now, as the breeze turns cold, that the young girl realizes that this truly is her mother that she is placing in the hole. When she returns to the village, there will be no longhouses to go to sleep in. There will be no mother to brush through her hair, to clean the dirt from her feet and hands and clothes.

There was also the harsh reality that she would not even have her father's book to find solace in. The journal of his travels, the journal that had taught her the language of the white men, was lost with the fire, just as her mother was.

Dirty hands begin to tug at the braids that fall over her own shoulders.

"Mother," she begins, gripping her hair hard to keep her voice tame, "I hope that you will like it here beneath the tree where you went with father. And that way you can look at the valley and watch us. I will try to visit…"

Ratonhnhaké:ton hiccups, lower lip beginning to tremble. She squeezes her eyes closed, hoping to hold back the tears that await release. Kanen'tó:kon looks on helplessly, unsure of what to do. He has never seen grief before, and cannot imagine the feelings his friend must now deal with – his friend has been made an orphan.

"I will always have my heart open too, just like you said," she sniffles, wipes her face with her dirty hands. "That way if you get lonely here, you can just stay in my heart and you won't have to be lonely."

The girl begins to sob, reaching over to grab handfuls of the dirt. She dumps it into the hole over the fur that lies at the bottom. The boy by her side follows suit, and together they watch the fur disappear beneath the brown earth.

"I love you."

The children stand together on the edge of the cliff overlooking the Kanatahséton valley. The sun begins its descent in the distance. Shadows are cast, the sky begins its transition into orange sunset. Ratonhnhaké:ton's tears have stopped flowing, but their remnants still linger on her cheeks, and so does the dirt transferred from her hands.

"She will have a nice view," Kanen'tó:kon offers his friend a smile, and finally it is returned. Despite the trembling of her lips, she tries her best.

"Will you visit her with me?"

The native boy looks a little unsure of this question. One time leaving the valley had clearly been enough trauma for him. But despite this, he nods in agreement.

"I can't let you go alone. It is dangerous."

As they take their leave, Ratonhnhaké:ton turns back to stare at the great willow tree that shadows her mother's fresh grave.

"One day I will climb this tree," she says to her friend with renewed conviction, "I will make her proud."

The boy opens his mouth to warn of the dangers of such a thing, but reconsiders. Instead he nods, holds up his fists.

"We will climb it together, okay?" she asks him.

"Okay."

Satisfied with this, Ratonhnhaké:ton finally turns away from her mother's grave, but not before she wishes her mother a goodbye for now.

Together they walk the length of the winding trail, and talk of a day when they will climb the tree and be able to see the entire world from its top.