Strawberry Moon (7 page)

We walked only as far as the lake.
Tap tap tap
went Grandmother's cane. She squeezed my arm tightly. I spread a quilt out on the grass. We sat in the sun and watched a family of ducks glide across the blue water.

“I am not going back to England in the fall,” said Grandmother suddenly. “The long trip across the ocean would be too much for me.”

Since Grandmother's stroke, my fear of going to England had seemed so far away. I had almost forgotten that Grandmother would be leaving us. But at the same time, I felt a prickle of disappointment. I loved the cozy winter nights that Papa and Max and I spent together. Everything would change with Grandmother here.

“Will you mind the winter here awfully?” I said.

“Oh, I won't stay in the backwoods,” said Grandmother, and she sounded like her old self. “My friend Dorothy tried to convince me to spend the winter with her in Toronto. I will take her up on the offer.”

I nodded. I had heard Papa tell Mr. McDougall that he would feel better if Grandmother were closer to doctors and a hospital.

“But I will stay here while the weather is warm,” said Grandmother. “And one day you will come to Toronto to visit me.”

“I would love that,” I said.

After a while, Grandmother's head nodded. I found a patch of late strawberries hidden in the long grass and filled my apron. When Grandmother woke, I joined her on the quilt. We sat in the sun and ate berries until we were full.

I didn't go back to the Indian village until the next week. Papa started to protest when I asked to take the canoe, but Grandmother silenced him with one of her looks.

When I got to the village, Annie grabbed my arm. Her black eyes sparkled. “Come with me. I have something to show you.”

We ran along the trail through the forest and climbed up the grassy slope.

“Shh,” said Annie. She stopped and
frowned, her head tilted. Then she smiled. She pulled me down onto the ground, and we crawled behind the bushes.

I peered through the green leaves and sucked in my breath. A fox lay on her side in front of the den. A mass of fuzzy brown bodies tumbled around her. One ... two ... three ... four ... I counted five baby foxes, playing in the sun.

I scanned the area around the den, my heart thudding.

Suddenly a sixth baby fox sprang out of the long grass. It pounced on the mother fox's tail. She turned her head lazily and gave it a gentle swat.

The baby fox's glossy black coat gleamed in the sunlight. Lucky! A tingle ran up my back.

“She sometimes feeds them mice now,” whispered Annie. “I've seen her. And once she brought a rabbit.”

I nodded. Soon Lucky would learn how to hunt on his own. I looked at his bright black eyes and his sturdy body. He would be a good hunter.

After a long time, Annie and I went back to the Indian village. We ran all the way. Our moccasins flew over the trail. I felt like I could run forever. I couldn't wait to get home to tell Grandmother about Lucky.

In 1838, a young girl like Ellie would have called her friend Annie an Indian; however, a child today would more likely use the name First Nations. Just like Europe is made up of different people speaking different languages, North America is the home to many aboriginal nations, each with their own language and customs. Annie's family belonged to the Ojibway Nation (also called Chippewa), a tribe who inhabit the area of the northern Great Lakes.

The Ojibway lived in harmony with nature, following the patterns of the seasons. Spring was maple syrup season, summer was a busy time for growing and gathering plants and autumn brought the wild rice harvest. By the time of the Freezing Moon (November), families had moved to their winter villages where the men hunted and fished and the women kept busy with many jobs, including making baskets and mending clothes. Birch bark from the northern forests was an important resource for the Ojibway, and was used for making baskets, boxes, dishes and canoes.

A primary schoolteacher and writer,
Becky Citra
lives on a ranch in Bridge Lake, British Columbia, where horses, bears and coyotes abound and where many of the chores have not changed since Ellie's day. In addition to the Max and Ellie stories, Becky is also the author of
Dog Days
(Orca, 2003) and
Jeremy and the Enchanted Theater
(Orca, 2004).

Hanne Lore Koehler
created the cover and interior illustrations for
Strawberry Moon
in watercolour. Hanne Lore has illustrated two other Orca Young Readers:
Five Stars for Emily
and
Rescue Pup
. She lives in Cambridge, Ontario.