The Maid of the Mist

                       CHAPTER 1

Many Indian legends have been told about the mighty Niagara River, but none as mysterious as the tale of the young Indian princess, Lelewala, who went over the great Niagara Falls in her canoe. Lelewala was quite a storyteller herself, and so it seemed only fitting that she was destined to live out a magnificent story of her own, that would be passed on through the generations of Indian tribes inhabiting the Niagara Peninsula. Of course, there are different versions of the story, and the most memorable of the fables is the one told by Lelewala herself, but I’m afraid that many generations have passed since Lelewala left this world, so you’ll have to listen to mine. Now back when Lelewala was just a girl, in the early 1700’s, the river wasn’t yet known as the Niagara. The name of the fierce river was borrowed from the name of Lelewala’s tribe, the Onguiaahra, or neutral, tribe. It kind of sounds like Niagara, though, doesn’t it? The Onguiaahra tribe was a peace loving tribe, and Lelewala’s father, the great Chief Honovi, led a tribe of skilled hunters. Deer populated the land now known as Goat Island, and every harvest back then was a plentiful one, abundant with fields of golden corn and squash. It was a beautiful time for the Onguiaahra, and Lelewala knew, even when she was very young, that she had a gift for storytelling. She probably got her talent from her mother, Eyota, but it’s hard to tell. One evening in the Indian village, when Lelewala was no more than five years old or so, she gathered around the fire with the other children, including her older brother, Dyani, and his friend, Inola. Inola was destined to be a great hunter—The Great Spirit had willed it. The tribal council was gathered in the longhouse on this night, but Eyota, Lelewala’s mother, came out every now and then to quiet the children. But it was hard for Lelewala to keep quiet. Her heart was filled with a passion. She had stories to tell, an excitement she couldn’t hold in a moment longer, and her soul bubbled with a livelihood that she wanted to share with the whole tribe. This evening, she was chasing Dyani around the fire, pretending she was a fierce water serpent. The younger children screamed with delight. The teenagers practiced their war calls and hooted and hollered until Eyota, for the third time, came out to hush them. When they were quietly seated on the ground under the stars, one of the youngest girls spoke. “Tell us a story, Lelewala,” the young girl, Anasi, said. Anasi was no more than three or four. “Tell us. Tell us.” Lelewala thought for a moment, then she started. “Once there was a great naked bear.” “Ewwww,” shrieked the child. “Gross.” “Did the bear smell bad?” asked a boy. Lelewala smiled. She brushed her dark hair from her shoulders and she fixed the feather in her headdress and she waited until everyone was quiet. Then she continued. “Naked bear was a monstrous, man-eating creature with no fur and a huge head.” Dyani wrinkled his nose and sat beside his sister. He was skeptical. “Why did all his fur fall out?” “Because he ate little boys and girls,” Lelewala yelled. “Ahhhhh! This is too scary.” The little girl hid behind a log, peering out periodically. Inola leaned in closer. Even as a young boy, the tribe knew Inola would hunt great beasts and feed the entire tribe. There was a certain fire, a determination, in his dark eyes. “Yeah, but there’s got to be a way to kill the bear. A great hunter would know what to do.” Lelewala smiled sweetly at him. “Naked bears are nearly impossible to kill, but they can be defeated by shooting arrows into their feet. And they can only chase a hunter who has not yet found its trail.” “Whoa,” said the little boy seated beside Inola. “What do you mean?” Inola asked. “Once you find the trail of the Nyagwaheh bear, he must run from you,” she shouted. Just then, a group of older boys sneaked up and ran out from behind the longhouses, dressed in bear costumes and yelping war cries, circling the children. The young boys and girls shrieked, and they ran around in circles and they covered their ears. Lelewala winked at Inola, and she nodded and she giggled. “Arrrghhh,” cried Anasi. “Children!” her mother pulled back the deer skin tarp and peeked out of the entrance. “Lele, your stories are the best,” said Dyani. “One day, I’m going to be the best hunter in all The Land, and I’m going to slay the Nyagwaheh.” “Ah, there’s no such thing as a giant naked bear,” said Erami, an older boy. “Phew,” said the little girl, who passed out on her mat of corn husks, hysterical. She covered her forehead. Her feet fell down together as she lay on her back. “Sorry, mama,” she called. Dyani aimed his bow and arrow at the oak tree beside them and he drew back and he released the arrow and he missed. He grimaced. Eyota came out of the longhouse and approached the children and placed her hand on Lelewala’s shoulder. After the teenage boys dispersed, she said to Dyani, “There are many truths in your sister’s words.” “How does she know all this stuff?” Dyani frowned. “She’s just a kid.” Eyota smiled at Lelewala, who was quiet, and she looked at Dyani. “She listens patiently. She observes. She has a gift.” “Lele’s stories sound so real,” Dyani said. Her mother pointed to the starry sky. The autumn air crisp and dry raised the hairs on her neck, and Lelewala could see her breath now. Eyota said, “Look to the sky. The great hunter slain the bear and ate it.” Her mother pointed to the constellation of stars that looked like a big pot with a curved handle. The moon was bright, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky now. The smell of the rushing waters and the dew on the crops reached them. Lelewala laid down on her mat beneath the stars. Dyani followed. “Now look around you at the forest, children,” said her mother. “The bear’s blood falls from the heavens and colors the leaves of the maple trees scarlet.” “In autumn,” she said, excitedly. “My favorite time.” “Yes, but the hunters are no longer in the mountains. The naked bear carried them up to the sky. The bear came back to life. As the moons pass, each year, and the sky moves once more towards spring, the bear slowly rises to his feet and begins the chase again. See...” Then where her mother lay gazing up at the sky, she pointed up to the heavens. The bear and the hunters seemed to come to life above them, even as Lelewala closed her eyes and fell into a brisk dream.