It was early. He knew he had to get up and perform a cleansing ritual for the tribe. As he got the necessary supplies, a slave came to him and said “My master is not up yet, can you heal me please?” Usually he didn’t heal slaves but looking at the rash on his arm he felt sorry because the boy was only 11 years old. He rubbed on some oil and berry juice.
The little boy leaped for joy and said “Thank you, Tiger Claw, may Thunderbird watch over you.”
As the shaman walked into the middle of the tribe, he started the fire, crushed the roots, and stirred the salmon blood and berry juice. He mixed the ingredients, threw it in the fire, and recited a cleansing spell to the gods.
Walking back to his little teepee by the other long houses was weird. He felt as if he was being followed. He ran behind a tree and looked around to see if there was anyone behind him. Some of the women were already up and crushing roots but, he could have sworn he saw the shadow of a man following him. He kept walking but kept his guard on.
By now all of the tribe was and getting ready to go fishing. As he entered the teepee, someone grasped his shoulder. He turned and whipped out his dagger. It was Shaw Shoo Grass Whither, a man of high honor. “Why did you try to heal my slave!?!?” he exclaimed.
Shaw Shoo took off his animal blanket which covered his chest and back. It was the same rash as the boy. “I, my family, my neighbors and all my slaves have this because of your foolish mistake!” Shaw Shoo slapped Tiger Claw on to the ground, took his dagger, and said
“You will die the same way as my 11 year old slave.”
My son wrote that for his Washington State History class.