Guardian from Above
Written October 19th, 2026
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{ This is an original, historical fiction story I created for my Children’s Literature class about the Spokane Tribe of Indians- based on Salish Native American culture. Do not copy or steal any of my work. If you have nothing nice to say, please leave. }
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I’ve recently been pondering on the fact that my dreams might be real. Father says I might have a gift, though my mother thinks my head is filled with too many stories. I don’t want to believe her, but as the air starts to feel lighter and the ending of my youth creeps closer more and more as the sun rises and sets, I have not been left with much of a choice.
Standing afoot in the fresh water as it sprinkled my toes, I gathered the flowing liquid into two baskets to bring back towards the longhouses. Why we needed more water was beyond my imagination, as I didn’t listen beyond the task instructions my father’s mother gave me. Trudging the baskets back onto the shore to put my moccasins on, Woolly came sniffing his nose while circling my legs. He never did this strange behavior. Only when mother and the aunts would comb out the loose fur from his coat- to make yarn for the inside of our clothes, though no one besides myself was out here on the river bank.
Trying to mask the sound of the water against the rocks and Woolly’s huffing and puffing, I heard it. The sound of people, not those from our tribe. I had left both the baskets and my moccasins behind, running back towards the longhouses. After going deeper into the trees- passed the tipi’s where the grandmothers would tell the young children stories, I had stumbled onto the ground. The pain was unbearable; a small wooden stick that someone started carving but got too lazy to finish, sat halfway inside the bottom of my right foot.
Dirt and other wood chips covered my buckskin dress as tears had run down my face. After registering that I was sitting on the ground in front of my family’s longhouse, the strangers emerged. Three men- all held weapons more advanced than the ones father used for hunting. They had started speaking fast amongst themselves, and I wasn’t able to understand most of what they were saying as their words were muffled; all I could catch was the words “sacrifice” and “revenge”, before a small white animal started attacking them.
“Talulah.” A soft voice shook me awake.
I gasped, clutching my wool blanket before blinking repeatedly, trying to take in my surroundings after being awoken from the horrors of my dreams. The oldest of my cousins sat in front of me- her eyes were dark, as if she had been crying.
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“It’s Woolly,” Hiyalea said at last.
Mother and father, along with my other grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and even those from the other two families in our tribe had gathered out along the banks of the Spokane River for the memorial. Last night after father and the uncles returned from hunting, and long after the torches blew out- three Canadian men from up North came to take Hiyalea away from us.
Those men, and a couple more originally came a couple of weeks ago. They had talked about marrying some of their men with our women, in exchange for peace and more goods. There wasn’t a big pool of women to choose from. The young women from the south tribe family are all already married; the girls from the upper west group are all way younger than me, which left our family. Hiyalea and I are the only girls in the northeast group who aren’t married. I did not want to be married off, but thankfully the Canadians saw me as too young, so they chose my dear cousin instead.
Unfortunately for them, my aunt and uncle had refused their agreement. Even though Hiyalea is skilled in making buckskin clothing for our family, along with stringing sharp stones to hunting spears; they wanted her to marry someone she loved, not marry for convenience. We all thought that was the end. Those men however, had come back last night to take her away whether we agreed willingly or not. By the time father and the uncles awoke, and went outside the longhouses to see the commotion- all three of the men were dead. Their bodies were covered in bite marks and scratches, and Woolly laid beside them with a knife in his side.
Woolly was my pet dog that mother and father gave me as a present for my fifth summer. We didn’t have dogs, let alone any fluffy white ones in the inland mountains. They had traded him with the coast people. “Woolly dogs, they call him.” Mother had told me that summer, “A Woolly dog’s fur can be used to make special clothing.”
When Hiyalea had asked what I wanted to name him, I couldn’t think of one. He seemed too precious to have an ordinary name, and whenever I thought of something, it never felt right. After two weeks, nobody wanted to keep calling him “Talulah’s Woolly Dog with no name,” so we decided on just Woolly.
He was my small protector, but also my best friend. I didn’t have a bunch of brothers like Hiyalea or sisters like my mother. My other cousins are both older and younger than me by a couple of years. Not even the kids from the other families in our tribe were the same age as me. Hiyalea has always been there for me- but being eight summers older, she was more of a big sister than a friend. Woolly and I had been stuck to each other’s side for years; in a couple of months we would have spent six summers together. Now we won’t get to spend any more.
After standing for a couple of minutes along the river bank, feeling the cool spring breeze- Chief Garry finally arrived. He started his speech on Woolly dog history, before moving to thank our Coast Salish people for trading Woolly with us all those seasons ago. He then thanked Woolly for all the fur he has given to keep us warm during the cold winters- though I don’t think Woolly had a choice in that matter. In the last part of his speech, he thanked the Upper West and South Spokane tribes for coming to our memorial this morning. And now, it was time for the memorial practices.
Firstly, there was the offering. Families would offer one of their own to handle the responsibilities of the deceased- though since Woolly’s an animal, both families brought an animal. The upper west family brought a baby deer, and the south family brought a bison- though this bison is scaring me. I believe this might be the family’s revenge for our offering from the last spring season. After the passing of someone’s grandparent, my great grandfather on my mother’s side offered to handle their trading businesses, though he passed a couple days later. Next would be the three-night mourning period; however, with the consequences of Woolly’s death- Chief Garry has concluded that we will send him off into the afterlife today, to honor his sacrifice in protecting our people.
Lastly, we speak to the spirit. It’s a traditional belief that even after the body takes its last breath, their spirit still remains with us for a short period of time. I used to think this part embarrassing, why would you want to speak to a corpse? Every single person in my family- including Chief Garry, ended up having something kind to say to Woolly. By the time my turn came, I couldn’t muster anything more than a sob and “I love you” before scratching the back of his neck behind his ears one last time. I don’t think it’s embarrassing anymore.
Mother laid out the special sheep wool blanket I had helped the aunts make during the new year before last winter- on the rocks below our feet. Father had placed Woolly’s body down onto the blanket. Before they closed the wool around him, I tore off the pendant Hiyalea gave me that same summer we got Woolly; placing it next to his paw- so he would have some part of me with him in the afterlife.
Finally, mother and father tied a leather band around his body, to make sure Woolly wouldn’t fall out of the blanket- before handing him off to our leader. Chief Garry had originally asked my parents where they wanted to bury Woolly. Since we would always go to the river; whether it was to play or collect water for the tribe, I told them it would be best to let the waves take his body. At last, Chief Garry walked closer to the edge of the Spokane River before placing Woolly’s body into the water, sending him off into another life.
