Ataht ! And all this time K'yäk'lu, the all-hearing and wise of speech, had been journeying all alone and far in the north land of cold and white desolateness. He was lost, for see! all the world he wandered in now was disguised in the snow that lies spread forth there forever. He was old—so cold that his face became drawn and white from the frozen mists of his own breathing, white as all the creatures who lived there. He was so cold at night and dreary of heart, so lost by day and blinded by light, that he wept continually and cried aloud until the tears rolling down his cheeks stained them with falling lines along the wrinkles (as may be seen on his face to this day when in due season he reappears), and he died of heart and thence became transformed (í'hlimnakna ) forever as are the gods. And his lips became splayed with continual calling, and his voice grew shrill and dry-sounding, like the voices of far-flying waterfowl. As he cried, wandering all blindly hither and thither, the water-birds, hearing, flocked around him in great numbers and peered curiously at him, turning their heads from side to side and approaching nearer, all the while calling one to another.

   See! when he heard them calling, their meanings were plain to him, wise as he was of all speeches! Yet still he lamented aloud, for none told him the way to his country and people.





©1996, Richard Hooker

For information contact: Richard Hines
Updated 6-6-1999