Cloudfoot

Once there was a beautiful girl who pleased her father the chief very much. She was smart and engaging which made her father happy in his old age. Her eyes sparkled in the sun and her dancing pleased the gods so much, they showered the land with rain whenever she moved to the drums. For this she was called Cloudfoot, and the people of the tribe would bring her toys to make her giggle and dance so that their fields would be moistened with rain.

As years passed, Cloudfoot grew more and more beautiful. Her hair was dark like the earth and it shone in the sun as she picked flowers the fields. When she smiled, men couldn’t help but stare at her until she had passed. The chief was very watchful, for she had become the most beautiful maiden on the island or even past its rivers. This made him worried, for he knew many wanted to marry her and he wanted to make sure only the best of men would be her suitors. He would need to be as handsome as Cloudfoot was beautiful. He would need to be as rich as the chief. He would need to be as brave as their strongest warrior. The chief was convinced no such man existed, so he devised a brilliant plan.

He told had the entire tribe gather together at the Great Rock, a massive pink stone larger than two men, one standing on the others shoulders. He told all the men in the tribe that whoever could perform three tasks could marry Cloudfoot. All the young men gathered around him at the Great Rock and listened carefully to what they would have to do. “First,” said the chief, “tomorrow you must bring me the sun I can hold in my hand.”

The men grumbled and turned away; only a few stayed behind to watch the chief walk away and leave them hopeless. The next day the village looked up at the sky, and there shown the sun. Not a single man had captured it. Still they came gathered around the Great Rock to see the chief gloat in his victory. The chief spoke loud and clear so that all could hear, “Did anyone bring me the sun I could hold in my hand?” There was a chuckle in the crowd as it was plainly obvious noone had.

Then one man came up. His skin was dirty as if he had been digging through the dirt all night. His torn clothes hung loosely around his scrawny frame. His hair was matted and smelled of fish. He held out his fist to the chief. “You cannot be my Cloudfoot’s wife. You have no place here,” said the chief.

“You said anyone who could fulfill the three tasks is eligible. I bring you the sun you can hold in your hand,” the man replied. The chief took the cold hard lump from the man’s fist and looked to see what it was, but the glare in the bright daylight made him shut his eyes. The crowd gasped. The chief threw the fool’s gold aside, defeated. “You have not won yet,” cried the chief. “Tomorrow you must catch me the wind I can pull with my arm.”

The next day the villagers gathered again at the Great Rock to see if the young man would impress them. It was a gusty day and again the villagers knew there was no chance for the young dirty man. If he had caught the wind, it wouldn’t be blowing so hard. They hushed as the chief rose up in front of them. “Did anyone catch me the wind I can pull with my arm?”

The crowd was saddened for the young man was not among them. They started to whisper and the chief silenced them saying, “Is there noone? Then noone can be…” but before he finished, the young man came running up the hill, holding on to a strange bird by a string. “What’s this new magic?” they cried.

The man held out the string to the chief. “Here is a kite. Hold on and you will pull the wind.” The chief grabbed the string, assured it was merely a trick. He pulled and pulled, but the kite kept dragging him farther and farther. Exhausted, he let go. The chief looked up at the young man, angry and said, “You have not won my daughter yet. Tomorrow you must break the land in two.”

The next day, the villagers were afraid. They could not help their curiosity though and came one by one to the Great Rock to see what the young man would bring for the third day. Again the chief came before the crowd and called for the young man, “Can anyone break the land in two?”

The young man stepped up to the pink granite and said, “I can break this rock in two.” The tribe looked on in disbelief. The rock was larger than any man could lift, there was no way he could lift it. After a long pause, the chief stepped aside to let the young man through. The man placed a single acorn in a crack in the rock.

The chief said, “There is no way an acorn can break a rock in two.” The young man replied, “We shall see.” The chief was infuriated. He knew he could not touch the acorn, but he did not have to let the young man touch it either. He banished the young man from the land and told him never to return.

The chief scattered the tribe away and returned home. As each day passed, he would go and check if the acorn had grown or if it had died. First came a crack in its shell, then a root. Slowly the acorn grew until it was a small tiny tree. The chief wondered at this. There was no reason for an acorn to grow in a crack unless it had soil or rain. He decided to hide and wait to see if the young man was sneaking in to care for the plant.

The fall of night came and the chief hid himself in some bushes. He did not make a sound as the moon rose overhead and the waves of the river lapped against the shore. He watched as a figure came with a gourd full of water and carefully poured it over the oak tree. Before the figure could get away, the chief leaped out and grabbed it by the arm. But instead of the young man, the chief had caught his own beloved Cloudfoot.

The chief went into a panic. Worried that she might let the young man take her away, he refused to let her water the tree any longer. He built a house of clay all around her with only one small window. He brought her food and water and precious gifts, to keep her happy, but she would not eat or even smile. For months Cloudfoot sat imprisoned unhappy in her cage. The rain no longer came. The fields were parched and thirsty. The tribe went hungry as they rationed food from one week to the next, hoping for rain. Still the chief would not release Cloudfoot. He would not let her water her tree.

One night as the chief slept, the young man crept close to the clay tower and whispere through the window to Cloudfoot. Startled, she rose and saw her young man peeking through the slats. “Cloudfoot, how can our tree grow if you don’t water it?” he asked, but Cloudfoot looked at him, her eyes pitiful. “Bring me a hollowed log, some elkskin, and sinew.”

The next night as the chief was snoring, the young man brought Cloudfoot what she desired. She stretched the elkskin tight across the log. She sewed it with the sinew. She told the young man to play the drums soft, like the wind before a storm. She told him to play them loud like thunder. She told him to play them hard and steady like the pouring rain.

The young man brushed his hand against the drum like the wind before the storm. SWISH SWISH. He hit the drums like thunder. BOOM BOOM. He beat the drums hard and steady like the pouring rain. SHUCKA SHUCKA. And all the while Cloudfoot danced and danced and danced.

The gods delighted in Cloudfoot’s dance and they poured water all over the earth. They sent rain to the fields and they sent rain to the tree. And as rain hit that withering oak, the tree soaked up that water and grew and grew and cracked that Great Rock in two with a loud CRACK.

The villagers awoke trembling, wondering what the noise was. When they came outside, they saw the rain pouring down on their fields and watering their crops. They saw the Great Rock split in two. They ran toward the clay house to see what had made Cloudfoot dance. When they got there they saw the clay house washed away and Cloudfoot’s young man embracing her.

“What a miracle!” they cried. “Any man that can break the Great Rock can be our chief! And any woman that can bring rain can be his wife!” So the young man became chief and married Cloudfoot and they lived happily ever after.