They journeyed far and as the day increased they saw below them a distant high mountain.
"Let us hasten, O, sister, my sister!
You are weary with travel, my sister;
We will rest in the shade of that mountain.
I will build you a bower of cedar,
And seek in the cliffs for game-creatures;
And you shall rest happily, sister."
Thus he spoke for he loved his sister and her beauty, for she was soft and beautiful!
And so they hastened. When they reached the mountain Síweluhsiwa built a bower of cedar branches under the shade of a tree. Then he went forth to seek game. When, having captured some, he returned, and his sister was sleeping in the bower; so he stepped softly, that he might not disturb her—for he loved his sister, and he gently sat himself down before her and leaned his chin on his hand to watch her. The wind softly blew back and forth, and she slept on; her white cotton mantle and garments were made light for the journey, and thus the wind played with them as it passed over her prostrate form. As the brother gazed at her, he became crazed with love of her, greater than that of a brother's, greater than that of kin for kin!
He was crazed with lust and heedless of what he was doing, and the sister, wakened by his sexual advances fled from him while screaming with fear, and then, in shame and hot anger turning, reprimanded him fiercely. The two, brother and sister, were wondrous beings, more than it is the lot of mere men in these days to be, for they were the children of Kâ'wimosa the priest, and a priestess-mother in the times of creation and newness. And so, like to the surpassing ones, they were 'hlímnawiho , or changeable-by-will; indeed, and all things were k'yaíyuna or formative, when the world was new! See now! As she upbraided him, her eyes grew great and glaring and her face spotted and drawn. And he, as he heard and saw her, grew dazed, and stood senseless before her, his head bowed, his eyes red and swollen, his brow bent and burning.
"You shameless of men!" cried the maiden, "Know that you will never return to your people; no, nor will I! See! I will make by my power a deep water dividing this mountain! Alone on one side you will live, alone on the other will I live! I will draw a line, and make a swift water between the day-land and the night-land, between all our people and us!" She stamped with her sandal as she spoke, and made a deep mark; for the mountain was hollow and resounding. Then she ran headlong down to the westward end of thc mountain and drew her foot along the sands from the south to the north, and she made a deep gully. And the brother, seeing her flee, ran after her calling hoarsely. But now, as he neared her, he stopped and stared, and grew more crazed than ever, but with anguish and fright this time at her rage and distortion. As she turned back again, he threw up his arms, and beat his head and temples and tore away his hair and garments and clutched his eyes and mouth wildly, until great welts and knobs stood out on his head; his eyes puffed and goggled, his lips blubbered and puckered; tears and sweat with wet blood soaked his whole person, and he cast himself headlong and rolled in the dust, until coated with the brown earth of the plain. And when he staggered to his feet, the red soil stuck to him as skin attaches to flesh, and his ugliness hardened.
The maiden stared in wild terror at what she had wrought! And now she, too, was filled with anguish and shrieked aloud tossing her arms and rushing in every direction, and so great was her grief and despair that her hair turned all white. See! Now she lamented plaintively and pitied her brother, for she thought, "but he loved me!" So she tenderly yearned for him now, and ran toward him. Again he looked at her, for he was crazed, and when he saw her close at hand, so strange looking and ugly, he laughed aloud, and crazily, but soon he stood still with his hands clasped in front of him and his head bowed before him, dazed! When he langhed, she too laughed; when he was silent and bowed, she cried and begged him. Thus it was with them ever after in those days. They talked loudly to each other; they laughed or they cried. How they were like silly children, playing on the ground; soon they were wise as the priests and high beings, and harangued as parents to children and leaders to people.
The marks in the mountain and sands sank farther and farther; for the earth shuddered much as it was accustomed to in those days. And thus the mountain broke in two and waters welled up in its center. The furrow in the sands ran deeper and deeper and swifter and swifter with the gathering water. Into the bottom mountain the pair fled—not apart—but together, distraught. Their gibberish and cries ceaselessly echoed across the wide water and from one mountain side to the other. Thenceforth, together they lived in the caves of the place they had chosen, forgetful of the faces of men and caring nothing of their own ugly condition!
©1996, Richard Hooker
For information contact: Richard Hines
Updated 6-6-1999