When I was born, there are those who thought I was evil. They said that the salmon that beached themselves along the banks of the river near my home on the night of my birth were the result of that nature. There are others that say that it was a sacrifice to a child destined to be great.
I was born Wendigo, on the Makah indian reservation. As my cries joined the wailing of the storm that raged overhead, hundreds of salmon beached themselves on the riverbank, and my mother's life bled from her. She was not strong enough for the birth, having been slowly going mad since the start of the pregnancy. She had not been eating enough food, and she would take long walks by the seashore at night. She didn't know who the father was, and indeed, claimed that there was no father. She said that she went swimming in the ocean, and came ashore with child. Most of the reservation residents took this to be a symptom of her madness.
Despite all this I was born a strong, healthy child, and was raised by my uncle, an older man, and a shaman. He raised me as best he could, and tried to educate me in the traditional ways of our people. I had trouble in school... the other children sensed that I was different, and teased me. So my Uncle, a one time member of AIM, schooled me at home, withdrawing me from the school. Our life continued like this, quite peacefully for some time. Until my thirteenth birthday.
I was sitting down to my birthday dinner with my uncle in his house, and there was a knock on the door. Apparently, they had noticed that I was no longer in school, and this fact, combined with the fact that my uncle was with the movement, was enough for them to decide to take me away. My uncle went to the door, and I heard some muffled voices, and then some men came into the kitchen to take me away. When I was lead into the other room, I saw my uncle on his knees, and one of the white men had his gun to his head. I felt anger building up inside me. What right did these men have to come into our home and treat us like this?
I killed one of the white men with my new found claws, but my uncle helped the others escape before I could get to them. When he slammed the door, preventing me from reaching my prey, I turned on him. He survived, but bears the scars across his face to this day.
My uncle knew what I was and took me to the Wendigo. I lived with them for some time, earning my adulthood among them. During my rite of passage, the mystery of my birth was revealed... I am not fully Garou, my half spirit in nature. My father was a salmon spirit.
I was soon scouted out by a pack. Not any ordinary pack, but a ledgendary pack, with a history on this coast extending back to contact with the whites. The Klukwalle took me in the night, with their faces painted black, and I performed the four day intitiation rite, and was one of them.
I trained and fought with the Klukwalle as one of the elite of our tribe. We went to Siberia, to help the people there battle the warriors of the horned serpent. Monsters were plentiful there, and despite their isolation and mixed heritage, they had great warriors among them.
My mentor, The-Song-The-Rain-Sings, another angulkuk and spirit chief of the Klukwalle, was killed in the middle of a rite. I was lost after her death, and grieved for her. We stayed several nights with the Siberahk people, and one of them, Wakinyan O'ha'o, comforted me after my loss. The night I spent with Wakinyan produced a child, though I would not know this until some time after I had returned to North America. I realized my mistake that morning, and didn't speak to Wakinyan after that.
The Klukwalle went home, leaving the Siberahk to their battles. We, after all, had our own battles to fight and our own kin to protect. When I realized my pregnancy, I fled in shame to the only person that I knew could keep it secret... my Uncle. I spent the entire term at his cabin, and felt the Wendigos call to sacrifice. I could not join my tribe. As the storm of Wendigos' rage writhed overhead, the metis child was born, a ya'pahe, and his voice drowned out the howl of the storm in that little house. I sent the child across the mountains to the Children of Gaia in Eastern Washington, and haven't thought of him since.
I returned to action to find that I was one of only two remaining members of the great Klukwalle. I, and our War-Chief, Strength-of-Wolves, were all that remained. My tribe dead, Strength-of-Wolves inducted me into his tribe, the Uktena, and we set about the task of rebuilding the Klukwalle.
I met Wakinyan again on this continent, and Strength-of-Wolves chose him as his successor. He trained Wakinyan in the ways of the Klukwalle, and then the young Siberahk killed his mentor in honorable combat.
My task of rebuilding the pack remains incomplete. We have gained and lost members, and have lost important rites and lore because of this. But I keep looking for those of the proper blood who are worthy of a position among the Klukwalle. I haven't told Wakinyan of his child... I doubt he'd have any interest.
I am Sarah Redbird, Where-Earth-Meets-Water... Angulkuk, Daughter of Salmon and Spirit Chief of the Klukwalle.