In his mind’s eye, Waawaate stood surrounded by cottonwood leaves in a cold and gray Sundance arbor. He looked to the tree and saw its dry, dead branches clawing the sky. He turned. Bugz stood in front of him. Her arms were marked for the piercing ceremony. He found himself trapped in the mirror image of Bugz’s Sundance dream.

Waawaate looked to his hand and saw he was holding a scalpel. He walked to Bugz. He knew she expected him to cut her, but he didn’t want to. Waawaate reached out and pinched the side of Bugz’s shoulder, gathering skin and fat between his thumb and index finger. Her flesh felt elastic. It would be hard for her skin to break. She would suffer. Waawaate looked back to Bugz’s face. They made eye contact and held each other’s gaze for what felt like a long time. She stared straight ahead at the craggy tree in the center of the darkened Sundance circle. A tear flowed from her eye and traced its way slowly down her cheek.

Waawaate raised the sisal rope that would tie her to the tree. It ended in a noose. He panicked. This wasn’t right. She needed a forked rope. A noose was a bad sign. He had to cut the loop in half.

Waawaate took the scalpel and tried to cut the rope, but he couldn’t. He struggled and struggled but couldn’t find the strength to sever the braided cord. He felt weak and powerless. He couldn’t escape this nightmare.

As Waawaate struggled to cut the noose, his hair fell forward. Still focused on moving the blade through the sisal, he blew the hair from his face. He stopped for a second and looked to the darkened sky above. He blew through his lips again and whistled a traditional melody, watching the sky spring to life.

In his hospital room, the nurse watched with concern as Waawaate struggled against the ventilator tube in his mouth. He puckered his lips and blew and blew, appearing to try to blow the tube out of his body.

CHAPTER 61

At the Thunderbird’s Nest, Bugz closed her eyes and saw her brother miles away. It devastated her to see him like this, a shell of his former self, with a tube running down his throat.

“Help me,” she asked of the image in her mind.

Waawaate leaned forward slightly and attempted to blow the tube from his mouth. It was so sad.

“I’m praying for you, brother. Pray for me too. I need your help.”

He puckered his lips again and blew harder.

Bugz shook her head. “I’m selfish to ask you for help. You’re suffering so much.”