Rise of the Underdogs: Jasper

Moving On

We spent two more weeks in the village for a total of a month.

Two weeks of learning to read and write in universal English while clinging to our roots as hard as we could. When Geraldine, her sons, and their Mates were content that we knew enough to read road signs, maps, and other things we would need to know, they started gathering other things. Clothing, travel bags, flint and steel – all of it was gathered and divided between the six of us.

Soon enough, the other Elders joined in. bringing us books and ledgers, the focus shifted to collecting and understanding coins and banknotes. They patiently taught us how to recognize, count, and handle the currency we would need in the places we were headed. Bargaining and bartering were not things that would be able to sustain us much longer, but now we had the means to continue despite never having handled such items before.

They explained the different denominations and showed us how to make purchases, ensuring we understood both the practical aspects and the etiquette involved. Through careful instruction and repetition, we learned to navigate transactions and manage our money, all in preparation for the journey ahead.

They gave us books of local laws based on each province. Not official books, but breakdowns of what each place expected, their governing parties, and how to not get caught up in the space between lawfully compliant and criminal. They taught us rules and regulations, about the scams that robbed people of life savings and, often, worked with falsified money that upended everything for certain people.

Tara and Andrew had gone to one of the larger areas, a place called Postville, and bought what they called a “basic cell”. It was nothing but a small, foldable item that looked like a tiny black box. When opened, there was a tiny screen and several buttons. I shied from nothing when learning how to conduct ourselves to not draw attention, but let’s face it. Technology was not something the Arctic Shield ever had. Honestly what company would place a tower in the Circle?

The answer is none. Not that I knew of anyway.

Programming the device for us, the Bear siblings showed us how to make a call, and pointed out the Grand Alpha’s number they’d gotten from one of the Lone wolves who lived in Postville. When I asked why they would do that, Tara scoffed at me.

“So you can contact him when you are ready to make the trade for safety.” She said with stern conviction. “Maybe, once you make it to the Island, he can send someone for you to make the travel less hard.”

As part of our preparations for the journey ahead, our traditional furs and skins were set aside in favour of more modern attire. We received trousers, jeans, shirts, sweaters, and parkas, ensuring that those of us unable to use our wolf form would be suitably clothed for travel and daily life. The shift in clothing style marked another step toward adapting to the world beyond our village.

Underwear was also included among the garments distributed to us. Though I learned that its use was optional for some, it was nonetheless offered as part of our new wardrobe. These changes in dress reflected not only a practical consideration for comfort and blending in, but also the gradual transformation we were experiencing as we prepared to leave behind our familiar ways and embrace what lay ahead.

By the end of those two weeks, we felt more confident in our ability to read signs and maps, as well as handle everyday financial exchanges. The skills we gained were not only necessary for travel, but they also represented another step toward independence in a world that was quickly changing around us.

Though it was a difficult decision, River, Levi, Carson, Quinton, and I agreed to cut our hair to different lengths. It was not something we wanted, but rather a necessity dictated by our circumstances and the need to adapt.

For me, the damage to my hair was too extensive to recover. Reluctantly, I chose to have it buzzed short, a choice I made out of practicality rather than desire.

Levi opted for a trim that left his hair just below his shoulders. After the cut, intricate braids were fashioned on either side of his head, which were then connected at the back, giving him a distinct look that blended tradition with our changing reality.

River cried, but chose a style similar to Levi’s. We held him when the tears fell because the pain of the act was symbolic – a partial erasure of our shared history. To ease his pain, Geraldine created a hand-crafted locket pouch to hang around his neck.

“Why?” He asked.

“Because some of us know and understand your heart, Little Wolf,” she replied. “We remember the so-called schools, the loss of self, and the loss of agency and life. Your tears are not a thing of shame, River. They are memories kept. A heart’s desire to hold onto the history and the symbolism.”

“It’s power,” he protested.

She smiled sadly. “Yes, child. Hair, by our Indigenous beliefs, holds power. You must not think of this as a type of erasure, but as a step in the space of renewal. By the grace of the Gods who watch over us, it will return stronger and healthier in time.”

When he calmed, he allowed the intrusion while his hand held tightly to the twine-tied lock of hair tucked inside the pouch around his neck.

Then came the other two brothers. Despite being twins, neither of my youngest brothers wanted to look alike if they could help it. Instead, they chose to mirror each other. You see, Carson wanted his hair cut short on the right, falling to his chin on the left. In contrast, Quinton desired the opposite –long on the left with the right kept short. Both opted to include a rat-tail braid. Both wanted it to go from behind the ear on the side where the hair was shortest to trailing down to their collar bones.

Akita’s hair received special attention. It was carefully trimmed, thoroughly washed, and treated with a plant-based serum. Afterwards, her hair was intricately braided down her back. Despite encouragement from some of the women to cut off more, my brazenly beautiful sister stood firm in her decision and exercised full agency over her body and appearance.

While only twelve years old, Akita carried herself with the same dignified presence that our mother embodied. As both a female Werewolf and an Alpha-born, she possessed an innate sense of authority and restraint, despite her youth. She seemed to intuitively understand when to exercise patience and when circumstances called for assertiveness or conflict. Her ability to balance these qualities, even as a child, reflected a maturity beyond her years and spoke to the strength of her character and heritage.

Pulling her aside after it was done, I asked her about it. She glared at me like I should know better. When I pressed her, she huffed, “Fine. I watched Maman. She led through calm power rather than explosive confrontation. She only used her Alpha command when necessary, and never without reason.”

I smiled as we climbed into one of the two sleds attached to the tail end of two skidoo’s that would take us to the ferry. “It’s good that you hold onto those memories, precious one. Follow Mother’s example until you forge your own.”

Lifting Akita gently, I set my sister down inside the cold, three-sided wooden box. Carefully, I tucked furs around her and Carson, ensuring they were insulated against the biting air. Levi joined them, positioning himself with his back to the driver for added warmth and protection. Before leaving, I fixed Levi with a stern glare and issued a clear warning, making it known that he was to behave and prioritize safety over mischief.

Once certain that Akita, Carson, and Levi were settled, I moved to the other crate, climbing in alongside Quinton and River. The choice to separate the twins was intentional; keeping Carson and Quinton apart forced Levi and River to focus on survival rather than their usual bickering. This arrangement was meant to guarantee that all my younger siblings would stay warm and safe during the journey.

The weight of responsibility pressed heavily on me. Having already lost so much, I was determined not to lose them, too. My actions were guided by a deep sense of care and the unwavering desire to protect my family from further hardship.

River gazed up at me, his dark eyes glimmering with flecks that reminded me of a starry night. There was a wistfulness in his expression as he spoke, “I’m going to miss this place. It reminded me of home.”

In response, I softened my voice, hoping to comfort him. “Home is held in the heart’s memory now, River. It is wherever we can be together as a family.”

River’s lips curled into a small, sad smile. The pain of leaving was clear, but so was his understanding. “I know. I just miss the stability,” he admitted quietly.

Quinton, ever attentive to the feelings of those around him, spoke just above a whisper, his words meant only for our ears. “We all do, in one way or another. We’re all mourning for something or someone, but it’s like Elder Arden used to say. Absence is felt, hearts are held, but all things must come to an end. It is not the loss, but how we handle it that matters.”

I nodded, leaning my elbow against the sturdy steel that framed the box we sat in as wind whipped around us. “It was wise to recall his words, Quint. They ring true even now.”

“How do we cope with losing our home?” River asked, his eyes searching.

I replied, “We act as if they’re still here and adapt to the new world. Ask yourself: What would Mother do?”