“Ok remember we only have one shot at this.”

Niigaanii covered his microphone to take a steadying breath. 

         “The armored van from the Royal Ontario museum is docking now,” Niigaanii held up his binoculars to confirm what Swebza had said. He saw the blue and white van offloading, its distinctive crown license plates gleamed in the bright sun. He counted only two people in the front. Perfect, just as they'd planned. 

      “Now Bashkdek!” A series of pops and smoke erupted around the vicinity of the van, the driver stopped its progress out of the harbor and both men stepped out of the vehicle. Niigaanii ran down the stairs of the hotel he had been spying from. In the confusion Swebza had stepped up to the back of the truck and forced its back hatch open with a small explosive. 

      “Hey!” The driver had come around the truck and now stepped forward toward Swebza. Niigaanii breathed again. They had prepared for this. Swebza ran and the driver went after him while Niigaanii slipped into the back of the truck. There were boxes everywhere he looked. He was desperate to grab them all but he knew there wasn’t time. Not today at least. He found what they came for, a midsized hermetically sealed box that just said ‘fragile’ on its exterior. 

    Gently he placed it into a bag slung over his shoulder and turned to leave. He couldn’t help but to pause to look at the other boxes that lay in secure shelves all throughout the back of the van, thinking of where this all had started. 

It had only been a few small museums and private collections at first, relatively easy break ins with low security or observation. They had freed hundreds of relatives at this point, pipes, scrolls, eagle staffs and sacred bundles all kept as curiosities for those who knew nothing of who they were, only using them as decorations gathering dust. The three of them had known better and had to put an end to the suffering of these relatives. Looking at all the ones left in this van though, Niigaanii saw just how much more there still was to do. 

      “Gaawiin onjidaa, I’m sorry,” he muttered quickly. He longed to free them all, to take every box out of that dark truck, to steal back what had been stolen, but there was only time for one. The one that would make all the difference and why there was such a massive truck for an international exchange of artifacts from Toronto to the Mackinac Island Museum. They would have to wait, but he would come for them all. 

     “You got it?” He heard Bashkdek over his headphones. 

       “Geget, affirmative,” he said, jumping out of the back of the truck, careful to keep his bag steady.

    “Weweni! Look out!” Swebza burst out of the crowd toward the truck. What was he doing? This would blow their cover and then-

    A group of heavily armed guards came streaming behind him, led by the original driver who had chased him off. Niigaanii felt the blood drain from his face. This was all wrong! None of their reconnaissance had shown this! The job was higher profile sure but not to this level!

    His grip on the bag tightened and he felt stuck. Something collided into his opposite side and he saw Bashkdek stumble back to his feet, barely escaping the reach of one of the guards.

    “Give us the box!” The driver said. 

    “You stole them! We are just returning these relatives to their homes!” Swebza shouted back. 

    “Cut the crap! That’s a valuable artifact, it belongs in a museum!”

    “Niigaanii they’ve got weapons…” Bashkdek muttered into his ear.

     The guards took a step towards them, each of them brandishing a taser or night stick. 

    “Last chance! Give it over peacefully or we will force it from you!”

    Niigaanii looked down at the bag. He took a steadying breath and forced himself to relax. 

    “Ok,” he said, “I’m taking it out of the bag.” The circle of armed guards stopped their advance but kept their weapons raised. 

    “What are you doing niijii?” Swebza whispered angrily “After everything we’ve done to get this!”

    “We have to do it here,” Niigaanii said quietly as he carefully lifted the box out of the bag. 

    “Here? But we were supposed to bring it to the top of the hill! That’s where it used to be!” Swebza said. 

    “Will it even work here?” Bashkdek asked. 

    “We have to try,” Niigaanii unsealed the clasp on the box. “We’re out of time.”

    “Hey! What are you doing!” shouted the driver “I didn’t say open it!” The guards tensed, a few took a step forward.

 There was a small whooshing sound as the vacuum seal was broken and air rushed into the box, as if to return breath to someone suffocating. A gleaming scroll of birch bark lay unraveled in the box, its bright white catching the shine of the sun. Etched upon it was an image of a tree, its four branches radiating outward, stretching to the edge of the scroll in four directions. 

The three young men took a moment and looked at each other. As one they nodded and lifted the scroll from the box. 

“Don’t touch it! You could do irreversible damage and-”

“Ambe manidoowimitig! Miinawaa gizaka’amawimin iniwe Niswi Ishkoden! Come spirit tree! Light the Three Fires for us again!” The three of them shouted and as one slammed the scroll to the ground. 

Immediately the ground began to shake, the armed guards stumbled around, their formation breaking apart as they tried to keep their balance. A mound formed under the street where the scroll had been placed. Out of it a huge wood shoot exploded upwards, giving off a beautiful white radiance that shone beyond light, plunging everything around it into a shadow. Almost as fast four branches shot out of the tree extending into the four directions. The three friends were lifted up as one of the branches grew under their feet, bringing them higher and higher. All around them they could see the ancient island and the crystal blue waters of the straits of Mackinac, of Mikinaakominising. 

“We did it.” Said Niigaanii, “Let’s tell everyone.”