He dipped and he twisted as he hopped around in the dark hut. I watched impassively as the straw garbed man managed to keep his balance despite the unwieldy wood mask covering his head. The long beak reminded me of Pacific Northwest emblems, but the eyes of the bird mask were of a toad while the straw was bound to it to resemble the spikes of short wet fur.
I was definitely interested in what myths led to the creation of that mask. However, what the hopping man had desired to happen, didn’t.
More forlorn than ever, I turned over in the straw cot and faced the wall so he wouldn’t see my emptiness.
He conceded defeat and brought his gesturing to a halt. He slid the heavy mask off his head with a grunt and let it drop roughly to the floor.
His carelessness enraged me with a fury I did not understand.
“I’m sorry. There is nothing I can do.”
I did not answer. I was still struggling to keep my anger under control.
“I’m told that is how the tribes cured depression, so…”
I turned back to face him quicker than he was ready for. He stepped back in surprise. “How the tribes? THE tribes? Don’t you mean, how you were taught? Did you just white man shimmy your ass through something you saw in a museum mockup?”
He was still wearing the straw cloak. “N…n…n…no…”
I sat up. “Dances like that are either taught from master to student, spirit led, or both. What the fuck was that about? And who the fuck told you I wanted a cure for depression?” I was about to jump off the raised cot but the bird-toad-mammal mask would have been in the way if I jumped blindly. “I was sent… led… ” My voice lost its vigor as I realized I didn’t know why or how I was here. There was something… someone… I was supposed to be meeting.
One thing for sure, this jackass wasn’t it.
“Well you looked like you was one of those witchy people, so I thought I’d do something witchy for you!” He gestured weakly and sounded half as sincere.
“STOP! FUCKING! TALKING!” The rage was back. I’m sure now that it isn’t mine, but if I didn’t get a handle on it, it was going to use me to express itself. “Jesus Fucking Christ, do you hear the bullshit that you’re saying? You’re a one man cargo cult!” I wanted to jump off the cot and jump down his throat, but the mask was facing me and keeping me in place with its stare from the floor.
The mask. Crudely made, but it was made for a purpose. It was also made from local materials. The three animals that made it up were local animals, I’m sure. The more I stare at the mask, the more I’m sure the represented mammal is a bear. Can’t quite figure out if the bird beak is supposed to be crow, eagle, or hawk. The stylized shape could match all three. “Scratch that. Answer one more question then shut up forever. Where the hell did you get the mask and the straw cloak?”
He fingered the dry straw uneasily before answering. “I… found it.”
I slowly lifted my attention from the mask to his face. “Found it… where?”, I growled.
“We found some stuff buried in the back forty when we cleared the land to build the vacation home and…” He flinched when I covered my face with both of my hands. “… I’ll shut up now.”
It didn’t register to me that his survival instinct had finally kicked in. I was hearing a high pitched tone in my ear that usually meant the immediate onset of berserker mode. I smelled something heavy and cloying. Despite never meeting a bear in the physical world, I knew that was what was filling my senses.
The beak of the mask opened and clapped shut once. The sound snapped me out of the rage. We both looked at it in wonder, though mine was a pleasant surprise while his was whimpering terror.
“Right.” The rage had left me. I felt oddly buoyant and gay. “Here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to put all the stuff that you found up safely and respectfully, and then you’re going to find out what tribe was on this land before you. You’re going to find their descendants, or the closest tribes that you can, and you’re going to give back their ancestral things. And if you don’t, something worse than me is going to roll through here, and I assure you, it won’t stop until it has made a new cloak out of your ass.”
He whimpered an agreement. This was all it took to spook him? I worried if anyone ever gave him real vanilla ice cream, he’d faint from the sensory overload. That still didn’t answer why he thought I had depression, so I asked him.
“You have that look. Like there’s no life left in you. Like you’re just waiting to die.”
I stared back down at the immobile mask. The very end of the long beak had a sharp hook to it, so I decided it was representing the eagle.
“Do as you’re told, son. Before something with more life comes through here like I promised.” I slid off the cot, making sure not to touch the mask with my feet. I nodded a farewell to the mask and grunted at the man as he bent over to pick it up.
I left what I now recognized to be a hunting hut. The forest I stepped into reminded me of the Olympic Peninsula of Washington State. Could be up in Canada. No further south than Oregon. I could smell the sea in the far distance. Clouds had already obscured the setting sun.
The scenery made me homesick for a place I don’t know.
I sighed and started to walk away from the hut. The mists coalesced into a form. The taller than human figure wore a bear hide cloak made from one bear’s hide. It could easily cover my subcompact car. The scalp of the bear covered the back half of its head. The face was a dark greenish brown and covered with lumps like a toad’s, but instead of a mouth, it had a long beak with a sharp hook.
It tilted its head in mirth as I forgot to be morose and moody. I nodded my head in greeting. It returned the gesture.
It moved to its right (my left) and turned slightly as if it was allowing me to go through an entrance before it. Though there was no obvious doorway to maneuver through. All was mist.
As I took the route offered, it occurred to me that a toad’s pupil is shaped the same as the hole in a double edged razor blade. The similarity reminded me that I should treat the entity with the same caution as said razor blade. Pretty and interesting to look at, but will slice me wide open at the earliest opportunity.
Without words, it told me that it would lead me to where I was supposed to go.
The mists swallowed me up and I remember nothing after that.