She crossed the icy swamp and finally saw
a glimmer of firelight from the neighboring
village.
White Rabbit was welcomed into a wigwam
where she told her story.
“Please, I need a bundle of mucki-ki to help
my village,” she said. “Many people are dying of
a terrible sickness.”
“Here, I have a pouch of yarrow and
goldenrod, sumac, and tamarack root,” said an
old woman. “At daybreak, a messenger will go
with you. Now, my child, warm yourself by this
fire.”
After eating a bowl of berries and boiled
rice, White Rabbit snuggled under the woman’s
moose hide blanket. But she could not wait
until morning. Without the herbs, Running
Wolf and the others would soon die. After the
old woman had fallen asleep, White Rabbit
crept out into the cold, carrying the pouch
of medicinal herbs. She darted across the
snowfields and through the icy swamp. Trees
creaked and groaned. It was so cold one tree
cracked with a thunderous clap just as she ran
by. It frightened her so that she did not notice
that her moccasins had come off until she was
well beyond the spot.
“Oh dear,” she cried. “I cannot go back.
There is not enough time to find my moccasins.
They are buried deep in snow by now.”
Weary, she ran on, clutching the medicine.
The crusty snow cut her bare feet. Just before
dawn, she reached the edge of the forest. Her
cracked, bleeding feet were so painful that she
could walk no farther. Almost home, she fell in
the snow.