“‘Let us race, then,’ Fox said. ‘And when I win I will jump up and down on you until your shell breaks.’

“‘We will race tomorrow,’ Terrapin said. ‘I will tie a white corn shuck on my head so you can see me.’

“The next day came. They started to race. Fox went running through the tall grass. He was sure he left Terrapin. But ahead of him, on top of the first hill, he saw Terrapin standing. It was easy to see him. He was wearing a white corn shuck on his head.

“‘HUT HUT,’ Terrapin shouted, and then disappeared in the tall grass.

“Fox ran faster then. But before he reached the top of the second hill, he heard ‘HUT HUT.’ He saw Terrapin up there with the white corn shuck on his head.

“Fox ran even faster. But before Fox reached the top of the next hill, Terrapin was already there, standing up and shouting, ‘HUT HUT.’

“And so it went, hill after hill.

“When Fox got to the top of the seventh hill he was all worn out from running so hard. Terrapin was already there waiting for him.

“‘I have won,’ Terrapin said.

“Fox looked close at Terrapin. ‘Your eyes are all red,’ Fox said. ‘They were not red when we started the race.’

“‘My eyes are red from all the wind and dust that got in them when I ran so fast.’

“So Fox accepted that he had lost the bet. He limped back home.

“Terrapin waited until Fox was long gone. Then he stood up and shouted, ‘HUT HUT!’

“And on top of every one of the other six hills another terrapin stood up and shouted back, ‘HUT HUT.’ They all wore white corn shucks on their heads and they all looked alike.”

CHAPTER 12

Marks in the Clay

When he finishes his story, my father laces his fingers together, puts them behind his head, leans back on the moss of the stream bank and looks up at the sky. I lean back next to him, putting my hands behind my head like him. I look up at the sky, seeing a cloud that has a shape much like that of the terrapin in his story. Like all of the stories my father tells, that tale is such a good one. As I think about it, I believe that I understand its lesson. No matter how swift or strong someone may be, it’s better to plan ahead and use your wits.

When did I first hear that story from him? I’m not sure. Some of my memories of that time when I was very young are confused and have been buried in my mind because they were not ones I wanted to remember. They are from that time I’ve already mentioned when my father drank so much. When they called him Drunken Sequoyah and our house was often filled with Tsalagi men caught in the grasp of whiskey.