The Unfettered Child

by Michael C Sahd

  A tiny collection of berries formed a modest pile in the small woven basket her mother had given her for the harvest. She bent and plucked another handful of berries, transferring them into her basket.

  She looked at her mother, who knelt close by, picking berries at a more practiced speed, her long, black hair hanging over her face and the thick fur hood of the parka that rested over her back. Samara stood.

  All around her, she saw women crouched, laboring over the blackberries, gossiping about topics that interested her very little. After spending all her childhood on the Hunting Grounds, she very much enjoyed the view from her current height. The mountains were a wonderland to her, with their uneven terrain and diverse wildlife.

  Her midnight-blue eyes shining, she gazed around at the more immediate pine trees that surrounded the berry-filled clearing, awed by these ancient monoliths that towered above the ground. Gazing farther out, she marveled at the coat of evergreens covering the mountains, spotted with the occasional dell.

  Above the forests, the mountains’ snow-covered peaks reached toward the cloudless sky. The sun felt warm and tingly against her exposed skin, despite the cold mountain air.

  The southern half of the clearing still retained some winter snow, sparkling like tiny crystal clusters in the sunlight. At the western tip of the glade, a rocky, anvil-shaped outcropping jutted from the side of the mountain.

  This was Samara’s first foraging trip, and although this would be her ninth spring season, the adults still considered her too young for these long-distance harvests.

  Her mother, Natalia, had allowed her to join this outing only because she was being trained to take the place of the tribe’s shaman, Sigmia—a responsibility, they told her, that required considerable maturity, and was a great honor.

  This foray into the mountains made Samara bounce with excitement. What Natalia didn’t know was that she had begged the old shaman to let her go, and Sigmia, chuckling, had given in, under the condition that Samara gather some herbs from the mountains, a task she had accepted with glee.

  The tribe mostly stayed in the Hunting Grounds, following a herd of mammoths in a great circle across the plains. During the summer months, the mammoths trekked southeast along Mammoth River, and the tribe camped near the widest bank of the waterway.

  By mid-autumn, the great beasts reached the western banks of Standing Lake, and her people assembled beside its frozen shores. By spring, the tribesmen raised camp near the mountains as the herd followed a northern trek across the foot of the highlands. Since she had taken her first steps, Samara had gazed at these mountains every spring, longing to step into them.

  This spring, she could have stayed at camp and helped her father at the forge or played with the other children around her age. In fact, the tribe was preparing for a celebration. The chief’s son, Nikolai, had killed his first mammoth, and the tribe planned to feast in his honor. The festivities back at camp would have been fun, but she had no intention of missing her first opportunity to go into the mountains.

  She smiled to herself smugly, knowing she had made the right decision as she examined the rocky outcropping to the west. She wanted to climb to the top of the huge boulder to see the view from such a height. She could even collect more herbs for Sigmia along the way.

  She yanked on her mother’s sleeve, interrupting the chatter between Natalia and her aunt, Accalia. “Mom,” she said. Natalia didn’t acknowledge her, so she tried again. “Mom!” Receiving the same results, she tried a couple more times; after all, this was very important.

  “Samara, you know better than to interrupt,” Natalia snapped, annoyance clear in her voice. The girl had gained the unwanted attention of a few ladies now, some of them chuckling. “What do you want, Samara?”

  “May I climb up there?” Samara mumbled quietly and pointed at the rock, blushing.

  “What?” Natalia said.

  “Umm.” Samara pointed to the outcropping again and lifted her herb pouch, hoping her mother could guess what she wanted.

  “Speak, child!”

  “Can I please climb up that rock? I’ll collect some herbs along the way.”

  Natalia examined the outcropping. It stretched like a hood from the mountain, towering over them. Piles of boulders and scree collected underneath the hood, the result of erosion, but the western half sloped steeply, creating a V-shaped nook between the mountain’s slope and the side of the stone.

  She didn’t feel comfortable letting her daughter climb the protrusion alone; she would be too far away to offer assistance if there were trouble. Natalia looked at Accalia, who shrugged. She glanced down at her daughter.

  “Oh, Samara, you’re filthy,” Natalia said, smiling. She reached over and wiped a clump of mud off Samara’s cheek. Then she took her child’s berry basket and said, “Go ahead and go, but I want you to take Karena with you. Stay close to her, alright?”

  “Yes!” Samara said, hopping on her toes, her raven-black hair swinging behind her. Karena, the next youngest of the group, having seen thirteen seasons, heard Natalia’s instructions and stood up from her labor. Samara could see that Karena was excited about getting out of work.

  “Thank you, Mother,” Samara said and jumped into Natalia’s arms for a hug. She smiled eagerly, skipping off toward the huge rock.

  “Karena,” Natalia said. “Keep a close eye on her, and be careful.”

  “I will, Natalia,” the young girl replied, following her ward.

  Samara headed directly for the rocky outcropping, with Karena in tow. Mushrooms popped up here and there. Plants grew sparsely underneath the trees, but she only picked the mushrooms and a few other herbs, quickly filling her bag.

  Under the trees, the twisted roots and rocks that jutted from the ground offered hazardous footing. The few areas clear of roots squished under her leather shoes. She tried to stay on the rocks, roots, and piles of dead pine leaves to avoid the slippery mud. Karena followed close behind.

  While the two of them traveled down the mountain’s slope to circle around the rock, the clearing was almost out of sight. Samara stopped, sharpened a stick with the knife her father had made her, and placed the spike into the ground so she could easily find her way back to the others. She had seen the adults do this on the way to the clearing and copied them so she wouldn’t get lost. Karena, chuckling, helped her shove the stick firmly into the ground.

  Reaching the top of the rock appeared difficult, but after exploring the base of the boulder, they found that the northwest side had a gentle incline, with countless handholds. Samara scrambled up this, her leather boots sliding on the slippery moss.

  Karena, laughing, said, “Wait for me. You’re like a mountain goat.” Then she bounded up the slant after her, reaching the top in half the time.

  The crown of the rock gradually arched up to the edge over the clearing, flattening out around the ledge except for where a wide crack split the rock from north to south.

  Samara watched Karena hop across the divide. She went to the edge of the fissure and studied it uneasily. The gap reached two yards across and dropped almost twice that distance into a tight wedge. Not seeing any other option, she took a few steps back to get a running start. When she tried to jump across, she lost her balance and went over the edge. Squealing, she glanced toward Karena in terror, just in time to see the older girl catch her wrist and pull her the rest of the way across, her feet dangling.

  “Be careful, Samara,” Karena admonished her. She released the girl safely on the other side. “It’s beautiful up here!” she said.

  Samara watched as the older girl stepped over to the very edge of the rock, her hair blowing wildly in the wind. She could only dream of attaining Karena’s beauty and charisma by the time she reached her fourteenth winter. Sadly, she could never share her cousin’s beautiful brown eyes.

  Karena had another winter before her coming-of-age ceremony, and she and Nikolai were to be wed on that day. Samara couldn’t wait. She looked forward to the day full of
festivities. Karena had promised her that she could officially wrap their hands, a job traditionally held by Sigmia.

  She skipped over next to the older girl and took her hand. The Hunting Grounds spread out from the mountain as far as she could see, Mammoth River splitting the northern and southern halves of the plains. The mountains spanned north and south like immense, jagged walls that halted the Hunting Grounds.

  A falcon circled not far away, and she wondered what it must be like to see the world through the eyes of such a bird. From where she stood, the camp below resembled tiny toys, and the people, like ants crawling among them.

  “It’s beautiful,” repeated Karena, admiring the view.

  “Yes,” Samara agreed, smiling up at her.

  “I’m glad you came with us, Samara. If you’d stayed at camp, I would’ve been stuck picking berries all day.” The older girl made an exaggerated face of disgust, sending Samara into a giggling fit.

  Gusts eddied over the rock, and Samara’s jet-black hair whipped sporadically behind her in the relatively calm breeze. Natalia waved up at them, shouting to be careful, and Samara waved back. The southern tip of the rock contained a shallow cavity they could climb into while still facing the clearing. The girls stepped in and sat down. Samara took a deep breath, savoring the mountain air, then pulled out the herbs she had collected along the way and started organizing them.

  Karena watched her for a while, then began asking about each one. She pointed to a twisted pile of flat roots and asked, “What’s that mess?”

  “That’s arctic root,” Samara explained, relishing the opportunity to show off her knowledge. “It’s used to improve our endurance in different climates. Sigmia uses it to make her golden tea.”

  The older girl tried to pay attention, but as Samara slipped into a more detailed explanation, she lost interest and inquired about a different one. “What about that?” she asked, pointing at a long, fat, blue-green leaf.

  The interruption didn’t deter Samara, who said, “That’s northern aloe!” She excitedly explained how to create a salve for burns.

  After several minutes of the girl’s tutelage, Karena yawned. “Alright, Samara,” she interrupted again. “Do you mind if I take a nap? This sun’s making me sleepy.”

  “Nah, go ahead,” Samara said. “I’m going to grind some mushrooms for Sigmia for a while.” Pulling a small ivory mortar and pestle from her pouch, she tossed in some mushrooms and smashed them into a paste. She hummed and gazed into the distance as she worked.

  Karena lay down and closed her eyes. “Stay close to me,” she said. “And wake me up if you need to.”

  Samara glanced at her, her mouth twisted into a grin. “I’m going to sneak off while you’re asleep,” she said.

  “You’d better not,” Karena said, sitting up. Samara’s dark blue eyes glittered mischievously, and Karena smiled, rolling her eyes, then lay back down. “You’re silly.”

  It didn’t take long for Samara to completely fill a little hide drawstring bag with the mushroom paste. She looked down at the clearing, where the adults still labored over the blackberries. She gathered her things back into her leather pouch, with the exception of the arctic root.

  Karena slept, and Samara took out her knife. It was made for harvesting, and her father had etched the runes, “My love and life,” on the top flat edge of the blade. It was her most prized possession, and she carried it everywhere. Her father had once told her that the Havallan people called it a kukri.

  She remembered helping her dad make it. He had allowed her to help hammer the heated metal into its curved shape. She knew she hadn’t really done anything and that her father had actually done all the hammering, but that didn’t matter, because she had been allowed to be involved.

  Palming the back side of the blade, she started cutting the arctic root into more manageable chunks. Eventually, she became restless sitting on the rock. Not wanting to wake Karena, she put the knife away, and quietly moved out of the cavity to admire more of the scenery.

  Stepping over to the edge of the rock, she looked toward Havalla, the home of the southern invaders. Their territory was marked by thick forests that lined the border of the Hunting Grounds. From this vantage, it looked like a green sea.

  As she contemplated the southern lands, fear suddenly washed over her, along with the sensation that something was wrong—something in the clearing. The back of her neck tingled, and her breath came out in short, nervous bursts. She rushed over to gain a better view of the blackberry field.

  The adults were casually packing berries and baskets into backpacks, preparing to leave, laughing and chattering away. She still heard birds singing and leaping in the branches, the sky was still clear and sunny; everything seemed fine. Something nagged at her, regardless.

  Then something stirred at the edge of the clearing. It was as if a bush had slowly shifted. Something about it seemed . . . odd. She squinted. After studying the plants carefully, she was able to make out a person with plants tied to them sneaking into the clearing—not a bush at all.

  After spotting the first one, she was able to pick out more. They were all around the clearing. “Look out!” she screamed as loud as she could, and the gatherers below glanced up to her. Then, chaos broke out in the field.

  She couldn’t see anything at first. Then a net, woven like a spiderweb, appeared above one of the adults and fell on top of her, and she began screaming. Another net flashed into existence, capturing someone else. Samara’s mouth gaped open as the adults crashed to the ground, folded into nets. She watched as a golden web hit her mother and folded around her.

  “Mommy!” she screamed. “Mommy, no! Mom!” Karena started and sat up. She saw Samara at the very edge of the rock, her hand outstretched and tears flowing down her face. “They’re taking Mommy,” Samara said.

  Karena rushed over to the ledge and looked down at the clearing, at the capture taking place. “Mom!” shouted Samara. One of the interlopers gazed up at the rock. Karena pulled Samara away from the edge, clamping her hand around the girl’s mouth.

  “Quiet, they’ll find us,” Karena whimpered through tears.

  Samara pushed herself farther into Karena’s arms, tangling the older girl up, and they both lost their balance and tipped over.

  Karena fell backward onto her rump, but Samara landed sideways and fell into the cavity, hitting her head on the rock. It hurt, and she lay there for a while, stunned.

  A deep ringing sounded in her ears. Pain accompanied the sound, flooding over her. A red glow crept into the edge of her vision, and she began wailing. Each sob brought new waves of pain hammering into her head. Samara closed her eyes against the onslaught. Her hand reached to where her head had impacted the rock, and she felt warm blood.

  Karena rushed over to her. “Samara? Samara, are you okay?” she asked. She picked her up and placed her on her feet, examining the wound. The older girl quickly determined that it was not life threatening, and that she didn’t have a concussion. “Samara, please! You must be quiet. Please, shush, please, they’ll hear you!” When Samara stopped screaming, Karena turned back to the clearing.

  Behind Karena, Samara squatted into a ball, pressing her hands against her temples. She wanted to scream, her head hurt so much. She wondered if she was dying.

  Then the pain flooded out of her as quickly as it had come.

  When her head cleared, she no longer felt afraid. The cut on her head still hurt, but no worse than she had dealt with before. She stood, her eyes still closed, and she sensed something, some presence, like the spirits Sigmia was teaching her to summon, a presence that engulfed her. It felt like being underwater, except that she could breathe.

  Although she had never experienced anything like it, the presence seemed strangely familiar. It felt powerful, and it responded to her like a second limb. She longed for it. She drew in more of the spirits, and the underwater sensation dissipated. Warmth traveled through her as if coming up through the rock like a geyser, and the spirits
latched onto her.

  She opened her eyes and saw Karena frantically surveying the clearing below. A faint, white glow surrounded the older girl, and she could see a similar radiance around the trees as well, with smaller dots among the branches marking the passage of birds.

  A blood-red glimmer highlighted her own body, but unlike the white glow around everything else, hers pulsed. The red aura grew as the white ones from the nearest trees swirled toward her, leaving behind brown and shriveled needles on the branches.

  Her tears stopped. Her fear had been replaced by . . . something else . . . anger . . . excitement. The new sensations made her feel manic, as if she could leap off the rock and save her mother on her own.

  Standing behind Karena, she saw one of the strange people walking toward them through the clearing, pointing. The spirits continued to amass around her, gathering about her body like the rain clouds that hid the mountain peaks.

  From below the ground came a loud grinding sound. First the trees started shaking, then the rock itself, as if responding to her growing power. Birds retreated from the branches like one entity, some of them falling dead, seemingly at random. The rumbling grew louder. Karena began crying as she watched the figure approach, perhaps thinking that it was causing the earth tremors.

  For a brief moment, Samara tried to remove herself from the spirits when the ground started shaking, but the pain and ringing in her head began to slowly return when she did. Instead, she let them flow freely. The feeling was exhilarating, like racing across the plains on horseback, only more so. Maybe like flying.

  The huge rock shifted, and though Karena lost her footing, Samara stood steady and walked past the older girl to the edge. Karena reached for her, trying to stop her from moving forward, but her hand closed on air inches from the young girl’s parka.

  The intruders looked up at the boulder as they loaded their captives onto litters, some already carrying their conquests through the woods. The one who had pointed stayed behind in the clearing, smirking up at her. Glancing beyond him, she saw her mother being carried off through the trees, helplessly struggling against the golden bindings.