Grandmother sat in front of the lodge. The small girl beside her watched. The old woman’s strong hands finished the weaving of the ash splint basket. The glow of the setting sun reflected from the surface of the river. Autumn leaves swirled in the current.

“Akhsotha,” the girl said. “My grandmother, we must go into the lodge before it is dark. I’m afraid of the night.”

Grandmother shook her head. “Iah, if we go in too soon, we will not see Sky Bear.” Grandmother looked up into the sky. The pattern of stars that shaped the Great Bear was bright. “Soon she will roam around the skyland.”

“Does Sky Bear see everything from up there? Does she hear what we say?”

“Hen, Granddaughter. As she travels the sky this whole earth is stretched beneath her feet. Listen. I will share with you some of the stories our old people tell about what Sky Bear sees and hears through the night.”