“That boy bragged so much about his hunting,” the old man said. “He did not do the proper things when he brought back game. He did not give proper thanks. Awi Usdi, the little white deer who is the chief of all the animal people, heard that boy bragging. It was Awi Usdi who sent him that misfortune to teach him a lesson in respect.”

Several people at the trading post agreed with the old man’s words.

“You are probably right,” my mother said. And people nodded their heads in agreement. Every Tsalagi knows that any hunter who brags and forgets to give thanks to the spirits of the animals he catches may find himself punished by Awi Usdi. And a sprained ankle is the lightest punishment that might be given. If a hunter continues to behave that way, the little white deer will send him rheumatism so that he cannot hold a bow or a gun.

However, I also heard it whispered by some people that there is another reason for my friend’s injury.

I have a way of walking very quietly and not being noticed right away whenever I go somewhere. I stand back to observe and listen before joining in any group. I have always been that way. So I have heard things said before such gossipers have noted my presence and changed their topic of conversation.

“These accidents,” another old man at the trading post whispered to his friend, “have become more common since Sequoyah came back to our nation. It makes one wonder about those markings of his. Maybe they are more than just crazy behavior. Maybe they are bad medicine, sorcery.”

That was troubling. But it was not as troubling as what I heard that old man’s friend whisper in response.

“Sorcery? Ah, that is even worse than selling parts of our Tsalagi homeland to the Aniyonega. There is only one penalty for that kind of black magic. Death!”

Those remarks made me feel sick in my stomach.

My friends have not yet started playing. That is good. It may mean that they are still just getting ready. Everyone has their own little private songs or chants that they have learned, their little rituals to help them win. Or it may be that they are waiting for me to arrive before they start. If so, that would be very good.

I step out from behind the tree. As soon as I do so, Yugi’s head turns in my direction and a smile comes on to his face. Not a frown, not a look of fright.

Good.

“Osiyo, oginali,” I call out to him. Hello, my friend.

“Osiyo, Uwaholi,” he calls back to me.