One day when I was thirteen summers old my grandpa told me to seek my spirit helper. So the next night at 11:30 pm I went to a cliff. I took only one piece of red bark. The spirit I wanted was a wolverine because they’re fierce, catch animals. My name is Little Arrowhead. I was going to the place by the cliff where my grandpa had told me. Heart beating, I was thinking of my spirit. Was it going to be a wolverine? I had seen many great hunters of our tribe and other tribes try to catch it. Just then I heard something in the brush! Was it a wolverine? I looked in the brush and saw a mother wolverine in a trap. Had our tribe sent it? I carefully reached down and undid the trap. The wolverine did not bite me, instead it licked me! I would be a good hunter if it were my spirit. I kept going after that. But the wolverine kept tagging along. I would also be strong if it were my spirit. She would protect me if it was. I started to fall to the ground. the next thing I knew I was in a deep, deep sleep. At daybreak I woke up. I was still lying on the earth. The mother wolverine wasn’t there. I started walking on the path home. Soon I was on the outskirts of the village. Grandpa said, “What kind of spirit did you get?” “Wolverine,” I said. “Good,” Grandpa said. And from that day on I was a strong, good hunter.