All at once, Sam stands up. He stamps his feet and cries out. It is the call of the moose. The sounds are guttural, sharp. They come from deep in his chest. Sam begins to dance around the fire. He dances alone and his cries become more and more urgent. He shuffles his feet, turns and bends slightly forward, his legs bent, his arms dangling, his head moving.

Suddenly a long cry answers, as if it is coming from the other side of the mountain. A long mating call pierces the dusk. Then a woman comes out of the crowd and starts to dance and stamp in front of Sam. With short, rhythmical and measured steps she goes before him, her head to the wind. They sniff the air and call out to each other. The calls blend with the deep, bewitching sounds of the drum and the singing.

One by one, the men and women form a big circle and dance in single file, pulling the circle tighter and tighter. They stamp and paw the ground, beat it with their hands. Sam moves between the dancers, who try to stop him with their hips and shoulders.

The dance stops. The men stretch their arms above their heads, their hands open wide. They look as though they are wearing huge antlers that stand out against the starry night. Their shadows run together on the ground.

Now everyone is braying in unison. The drum lets loose like a sudden rain of hailstones on the lake. The ground trembles beneath the pounding of moccasins. And suddenly a male places his hands on the round hips of a female. The drum is quiet. The sweating dancers stop moving and make a tremendous clamor. They applaud the prowess of the man and the woman, gather them into the fold, clap them on the shoulders.

The Algonquin have restored order with their dance. Humans and animals can live in harmony again. The makoucham is over. Sam can go home in peace. He’ll have no nightmares tonight.

The quarters of meat are still hanging from the pine. The logs have collapsed into the ashes. The smoke will cure the meat all night long and early tomorrow, the women will cut it up. They’re happy. Each family will get a share. The elders will be served first, and they will draw strength from the sacred meat.

5

EARLY THIS MORNING, the women gather to bone the meat, cut it into thin strips and pound it between rocks. Others will crack the bones to pull out the pink marrow. The skin will be stretched, scraped, cleaned, softened and tanned to make moccasins, mitts, coats. Nothing will be wasted. There will be a good supply of food for the next few days but one moose doesn’t go far when there are many mouths to feed. Besides, the head is missing, and that’s where you find the best parts — the muzzle, cheeks, brain and tongue.