The Salmon Bride of Shonitkwu, otherwise known as Kettle Falls

Long ago, in the heart of the land where the great Grandfather River roared over the mighty falls of Shonitkwu, there lived a young girl named Wíyaka, which means "Feather" in her people’s language. She was as free as the wind, her laughter as bright as the sun.

Every summer, her family would travel to Shonitkwu, where tribes from all over gathered to fish, trade, and celebrate the bounty of the river. It was a place of stories, of friendships, and sometimes, of love.

One day, as Wíyaka wandered along the cliffs, she saw a young fisherman casting his spear into the rushing waters. His name was Čháŋwíyape, meaning "Fish Hunter," and his arms were strong like the cedar trees. Their eyes met, and in that moment, the river itself seemed to slow its mighty current.

Wíyaka and Čháŋwíyape spent their days together, laughing as they ran along the rocky shores, sharing stories of their people, and watching the fish leap through the misty spray of the falls. But as the summer waned, Wíyaka’s heart grew heavy—soon, she would have to leave with her family, and she did not know if she would ever see him again.

On the last evening before her departure, she stood upon the cliffs, looking down at Čháŋwíyape fishing below. She wanted to call out to him, to tell him she would return, but as she stepped forward, the rock beneath her feet crumbled. With a cry, she tumbled into the churning waters of Grandfather River.

The current pulled her deep beneath the surface, and just as she thought she would be lost forever, she heard a deep voice rumbling all around her.

"Wíyaka, child of the wind, your love is true, and true love must not be lost to the depths. I shall grant you a gift—you will become one with my waters, and every four years, you will return to him."

The river shimmered with magic, and when Wíyaka opened her eyes, she found herself swimming, her arms now sleek and strong, her body covered in shining scales. She had become a salmon, her heart still beating with love for Čháŋwíyape.

Each season, the fishermen at Shonitkwu spoke of a great and beautiful salmon that returned every four years, leaping higher than all the others, as if searching for someone. Čháŋwíyape knew in his heart that it was Wíyaka, keeping her promise to return.

And so, every four years, he stood at the river’s edge, waiting, his spirit bound to hers by the endless flow of Grandfather River.

And Grand-daughter, let us hope, if you ever stand at the falls of Shonitkwu, listen closely to the rushing waters—you may hear the whisper of Wíyaka’s song, carried by the current, forever searching for her love.