A Legend of Kushtaka

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A Legend of Kushtaka

One day, during the season of salmon berries, women and children gathered at the edge of the forest. Anitiak snatched a stack of baskets and raced ahead of the others, collecting only the biggest and sweetest berries. Her mother called to her, "WAIT!" But she laughed and ran on ahead, picking as before. When her basket became heavy, she sat it near the trail and ran on. She continued without looking back, picking as fast as she could.
Suddenly, she heard a loud sharp whistle. A thick fog surrounded her and then just as quickly, it lifted. When it did, Anitiak couldn't believe her eyes. She saw her mother ahead on the trail beckoning her to catch up. She ran to catch her, but her mother was faster. “Stop, Mother, please wait for me!” Anitiak yelled. But now her mother was far ahead, and she could only get a glimpse of her. On and on she followed. Finally, exhausted, she sat sobbing until she fell asleep.
Voices of the berry picking group woke her. Everyone stared.
“Anitiak! Where are your berries?” Her mother asked.
“I left them along the trail.”
“Empty baskets! You left EMPTY baskets along the trail.” Her aunt accused.
"No, they were full. Mother, why did you run away from me like that? " Anitiak asked confused.
The women looked at each other. They were shocked and scared. Then, they all turned their backs to her and walked away. She heard whispers, “Kushtaka”, and cold shivers crawled up her spine and the hairs stood up on the nap of her neck. The walk back to the village was lonely for Anitiak, none spoke to her. She was not the first in line carrying heaping baskets of berries, like she thought that morning. No, she did not have a single berry. She walked behind the others with her head bent in shame.
That night when everyone gathered for their meal, they heard about Anitiak and how she ran off by herself and didn't offer a single berry for the potluck.
“But I picked many berries and left them on the path to be added to the community baskets." she pleaded with her father.
“She fed the Kushtaka!” someone yelled spitefully.
She was shunned and told to leave the village.
Many years passed. Anitiak could be seen eating mussels on the beach. No one spoke to her or wanted to share their meals with her. She lived a lonely life.
One day fishermen, from a distant village, came in longboats to the shores. They stayed all that winter. Nantak, a young man from the other tribe, asked the chief for Anitiak's hand in marriage. Everyone laughed. "No, she belongs to Kushtaka." the chief answered. But the man just smiled and said," I love her more for that." So, the chief agreed to the union.
As custom demanded, the man and his friends built a new canoe and gathered a year's supply of food and built a small house for him and his bride. The wedding day approached. A question arose as to whose tribal bands they would wear. Her tribe wore copper but his wore silver. He surprised her by taking a band of each, slicing them in half and twisting them together like coiling eels, twisting over each other ... the silver band ended in the shape of a sea otter head and the copper ended in the shape of a salmon berry.
The people wished good things for the couple, but some knew it could have no happy ending. Then on the first big hunt after the wedding, the men were late to return. The moon became full twice, finally, a few hunters came back. They told of a good, successful hunt. While packing the meat into their canoes, a deep fog surrounded them and they heard a strange, long, shrill whistle and splashing, then silence. They called out their names. Everyone answered except Nantak.
She who was claimed by Kushtaka, lived in a house near the edge of town. Some say, on a full moon, you might see a sea otter swimming near there wearing a silver and copper ring on the third finger of the left paw.