Changelings

Most of the day was suspiciously normal-even better than normal. Father made them a delicious breakfast of blueberry pancakes made with berries stored from the previous summer, caribou sausage, and rose hip tea. Mother was not much of a cook, but after they cleaned up the dishes, she gave them identical presents.

Murel examined the outside of the little hard-bound journal when her mother handed it to her.

A diary? It was not very special-looking. But when she opened it, she saw that it was already filled with her mother's writing, including some odd charts and symbols.

"What's this, Mum?" Ronan asked.

"I thought you were old enough for it now. It's everything I know about my side of the family, including the stories about the origin of your middle names and what they were called in my mother's language." She turned to one of the charts. "This is a family tree-two branches, my mother's and my father's. My mother's people consider all of the children and all of the houses and land to belong to the women. Also, everybody belonged to one clan or the other. In the old days, people didn't like to give their proper names because your own personal name is like your arm or your hair or anything else of your person that an enemy could grab onto and hold you with. So they introduced themselves to each other by giving their lineage-who their mother's clan was and who their father's clan was. The way they put it, you were born 'to your mother's people, as you were most directly tied to your mother. You were born 'for' your father's people because the mother brought her children into the world for the father. Since my father was of Irish descent, I don't have a clan on his side-no 'born for' clan, only a 'born to' clan, that of my mother's relations, the Far Walking Dine. So this is the same clan you have. If you ever meet someone else who is of my mother's people and they know that your mother is half Dine-or Navajo, as our people were known to others-they may ask you about your clans and tell you theirs. What would you tell them?"

"That our mother was born to the Far Walking Dine and born for our Irish grandpa?" Murel answered.

"This is pretty cool!" Ronan said, thumbing through the book before laying it back on the table.

Murel was puzzled. "Why did you write this stuff all down, Mum? We can't even read some of the words yet. I like it when you tell us stories about when you were a little girl and your family and everything. If we meet someone from your mother's people, we would just bring them home to meet you."

Mother's smile faded, and Murel said, "But it's a really great gift. I didn't mean that. It was really nice of you to do this. I just don't understand why is all."

Mother nodded once. "Surely you remember what day it is, pet? It's your birthday, yours and Ronan's. Today you are eight years old. Eight is two times four, which is the number of the four directions, the four elements, and a very special number to my mother's people. It is time for you to know these things."

Their journals lay forgotten at home, however, when Da proposed the most wonderful part of the day. He wanted to go swim with them and have them show him where they'd met the otters and seen the wolves.

Wow, we picked a good time to get born, Ronan told his sister. I thought they'd punish us for going too far yesterday, and instead, I guess they have decided we're old enough to do what we want to because all of a sudden we're getting everything we've been wanting.

Yeah, funny, isn't it? And a special latchkay tonight too. Even on our birthday, you'd think they'd make us take naps instead of Da going swimming with us.

The trip downriver to the otter den was much faster now. Not only did they know where they were going, they could predict, more or less, where the ice widened and narrowed, and that helped. Also, during the wide-open stretches, Da raced with them or used the straps holding their suits on their backs to tow them, while his sleek and powerful body carried them so fast, the water streamed through their teeth and left a bubbly wake behind them.