by Ruby Dixon
Kemli stirs the tea, and no one laughs at my ideas. Of course they don’t. They don’t know enough about humans to know what is normal for us and what isn’t. And Kemli is calm and patient and kind—nothing like my own hotheaded mother, but a mother just the same. “And this is what worries you?” she asks, her voice understanding. “What will you do if you never get another sign?”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
She keeps stirring the tea, and I watch as the water bleeds to a dark, golden shade. Kemli likes her tea strong, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she put something in it to calm me like Ariana likes in her tea. “I mean just that,” Kemli says easily. “You said you look for signs of luck—of good things to happen. What if you never see another again? What will you do? Will you let that guide your life? Or will you make your own luck?”
Her words make me think. I never considered that. What if my mother never sends me another sign again? Will I feel like she really has abandoned me? I consider this. I would never think she stopped loving me, just that maybe she can’t watch over me any longer. Is that something worth panicking over?
I don’t know. I remain quiet as Kemli dips a bone cup into the tea and then hands it to me. “I just need them to be safe, Maman,” I tell her. “Just…safe.”
“I do too, my daughter.”
17
ZENNEK
I rub my stinging eyes and poke at the fire, yawning. I did not sleep this night, listening to the storm howl and tending to the fire as my little one slept bundled in the furs. It has been a long evening, and I have burned at least six of the dung cakes, which tells me that it should be morning, but it is as black outside as ever, the wind drowning out my thoughts. I move to the screen, noticing the smoke clinging to the roof of the cave instead of seeping out. I touch the screen covering the cave entrance, and sure enough, snow leaks in from the edges. I push the screen aside and as I do, snow falls into the cave. The entrance has been completely covered, and I scoop some of the snow into a basket to melt for drinking water. The entrance will have to be dug out so we are not buried, which will be my task.
Which means it will be a while before I can sleep.
I go to work, using my hands to dig out a tunnel and then I keep digging. A quick look outside tells me that the snows—always plentiful this time of year—are deeper than ever. The cliffs themselves are coated, and I can see no plants at all, even the nearby bushes completely buried. Ah well, this is what hunter caves are for. I shake off as much snow as I can and then retreat back into the cave.
Zalene is awake, poking at the fire with a stick. She yawns at me, her mane sliding free from the twin tails that Mar-lenn made for her yesterday. “I’m hungry, Papa.”
“Let us eat, then.” I shake the snow out of my braid and move toward the fire. “We might be here for a while, my Zalene.”
She frowns at me. “But I’m bored, Papa. I want to go home. I want to see Maman and Grand-mère, and my friends.”
I want that, too. I hope my Mar-lenn is not too worried. I think of my beautiful mate, smiling to myself. She is probably still abed, enjoying having the furs to herself for a night, and then she will scold me for abandoning her for so long. She will say that she needs to make sure that I remember how much I enjoy being in her arms so I come back, and then show me exactly what she means.
Ah, my fierce, bold mate. I want to be home already.
I look over at my daughter, who seems to be all of me and nothing of her mother, and absently fix her mane’s tails. “I cannot change the weather, little cocotte. We must wait it out. That is part of being a hunter. Your mama knows this. Now, think. What can you do to pass the time? What would a hunter do?”
She waits patiently as I finish tying her tails, and then looks at me. “Can we scrape hides?”
“Of course.” She loves the messiness of tanning, because it is an excuse to get dirty.
Her eyes brighten. “Can we rub the brain mash into them to make them soft?”
“We can. Did you save your brains from your kill?”
She nods, pointing at the basket of offal from her hopper. It is by the door and frozen solid, but will thaw near the fire quickly enough.
“Can we make Mama something?” she asks. “So she won’t be sad that we’re gone?”
My heart warms. “We can make your Maman something, oui. But this skin will not be ready today if we rub the brain mash into it. That will take many days to cure. But there are other leathers here for hunters to use.”
Zalene smiles at me, her expression sly and for a moment, I see her mother in her. “If the leathers are for other hunters to use, then we can use them, right, Papa?”
“Right.” I chuckle.
* * *
For two days, I burn through fuel as the storm rages outside. Cake after cake of slow-burning dvisti dung is placed onto the fire, and I count the remaining fuel with a worried look. There is enough for several more days, but I will need to replace it so another hunter is not left wanting. The more supplies we use, the more work there will be done to ready the cave for the next person, and that is work that will take me away from my mate.
I try not to think about what will happen if the storm continues for another handful of days. We are fine and have supplies. That is all I need to be concerned about.
Zalene flops onto the furs. “I’m bored, Papa.”
“I know.” There is little to do, trapped as we are. My weapons have been sharpened to deadly edges, my needles too. The herbs I gathered have been dried, and all the skins are curing. Zalene has been working on a tea pouch for her mother, but she tires of working on it all day, and I do not blame her. “Sometimes all a hunter can do is wait.”
She rolls her eyes and makes an exasperated sound.
How well I know how that feels.
* * *
“Papa, wake up.” Zalene’s hushed voice rouses me from my sleep, as does the small hand shaking my knee.
I rub my eyes, exhausted. I have not slept for these three nights now, watching over my daughter. “I must have dozed by the fire.”
“I kept it going,” she says, and her eyes are worried. “But I wanted to tell you that it’s quiet outside.”
Quiet outside? That can only mean one of two things—that we are buried under the snow once more, or that the storm has stopped. I glance up at the ceiling of the cave, but there is a normal amount of smoke there, nothing dangerous. I look at the privacy screen, and sunlight edges through the top.
Relieved, I get to my feet. “I think it has stopped snowing.”
“Does that mean we can go home?” Zalene asks. “I miss Maman.”
I move the screen aside and heft myself onto the hard-packed snow at the entrance of the cave. Over the last few days, I have made a tunnel outward, and re-dug it again and again as it filled up. The snow atop it is loose but thin, which means the snowfall has stopped, and when I look around outside, I want to laugh.
The white landscape is almost completely flat. Here and there, jagged edges of rock stick up, and the cliffs look as if they have been chopped in half at the belly, they are so short. “Come and look, Zalene.”
My daughter crawls out and sits next to me on the snow at the mouth of our tunnel. “It’s so deep, Papa!”
I nod. “As deep as I am tall, I think.”
“Past your horns, even!”
I chuckle. “Perhaps past them, too.” I glance at my daughter. “You know what this means?”
She groans and flops back dramatically in the snow. “Snowshoes?”
“Oui, des raquettes. We will never get home if I have to dig you out after every step.” And I reach over to tickle her.
Zalene giggles, her tail flicking as she rolls away from me. “Can we have le petit déjeuner en premier?”
“You can eat first,” I agree. “But you must be ready to go quickly. We have a long walk home and do not want to be caught if the storm returns.”
We chew on kah—trail rations—as we quickly c
raft our snowshoes from the surplus of bones kept in the cave for such an occasion.
I have one strapped to my foot when I hear…something. I grab my spear, heading toward the entrance of our cave, and move cautiously into the tunnel dug out into the snow so I can see what it is making noise. In the distance, a dirty white patch of fur catches my eyes, and then another, followed by staring blue eyes and a long body that scratches at the snow, then straightens.
A metlak, and far too close to our cave.
I flick my daughter with my tail and put a finger to my lips, indicating silence. I watch the metlak, studying it. There are not many near our home village, unlike the caves we used to live in, and so this is a surprise to see. Perhaps it is lost, or perhaps it was moving to new hunting grounds when it got trapped in the storm. I can confront one metlak, chase it away, but I do not want it to scare Zalene. It might be best to wait for it to move on.
My heart sinks as I see another metlak move toward the first, picking at its filthy mane and then moving forward and digging at the snow. They are far enough away that they do not see us, but I mentally vow to build the fire higher so they will stay back.
Then, another metlak appears. And another. One with a kit clinging to a teat. Another one, a bulky male. A cold finger of worry moves down my spine.
I can scare off one, maybe two, but an entire clan of metlaks? It is not safe. I creep back inside the cave, careful not to make noise. They are a good distance away, but I must still remain alert and watchful. I put my knives into my belt and add more fuel to the fire. “Keep this burning and stay quiet,” I tell my daughter in a low voice. “We are not going anywhere this day.”
With wide eyes, she nods at me.
MARLENE
I thought I would lose my mind when it snowed for three days straight with no stopping. Everyone paused by my cave to reassure me that all is well, that Zennek and Zalene are simply hiding out in a hunter cave, waiting out the storm. After all, Aehako has been gone as well, and Kira is not worried. I tell myself this is true, and stay busy sewing and visiting Kemli and Borran, and spending time with Ariana and her new baby.
Then, the weather finally clears and I begin to wait all over again.
Aehako returns, a frozen dvisti carcass hauled behind him and full of stories of waiting in a cave for the weather to turn. Others go out to check traps and exclaim about how much new snow has fallen.
But Zennek doesn’t return. He and Zalene are still gone.
Two days of perfect weather pass and my belly aches with worry. I see no signs from my mother, no indications that my loved ones are well. And I cannot think straight for fear that they might have come to harm.
That night, my hands tremble as I pace in my too silent hut. Please, Maman. A sign. Any sign. To encourage her spirit—if it is here—I move to my tallow bowl candles and light one, thinking of her. At home I would light a candle at the church for her after her death. I stare at the small flame, watching as it flickers. It is a waste of a candle, of course. I have to make the tallow ones myself and everything is effort, and now that I have used the candle for ma mère, I cannot use it for anything else.
Because that would be bad luck.
I stare at the flame, and suddenly I am angry. Angry at the weather, angry at my mother, angry at the world. Angry that my baby and my mate have been taken from me. I grab the candle bowl and fling it across the room. It crashes into the stone wall, the delicate bone bowl shattering and the tallow landing in a splat on my stone floor. The flame goes out.
I am tired of waiting to be gifted luck.
I am going to make my fucking own luck.
* * *
The next morning dawns clear and cold, and I put on my heaviest leathers and my sturdiest boots. I get out my snowshoes and strap them onto my pack, along with a waterskin of fresh water and a big bag of trail rations. I add a couple of Zalene’s favorite cookies, because I am going to find them.
I head for Kemli and Borran’s hut to let them know where I am going. Salukh will help me go look for his brother, I think.
To my surprise, Borran is bundling up in thick leathers as well, and Vadren has a cloak on. “I thought you might show up,” Zennek’s father says to me. “We are going with you.”
My mouth falls open in surprise. “You are?”
“Of course.” Borran moves to my side and gives me a smile, putting a hand on my shoulder. “We are family. You are not alone, Mar-lenn.”
It is something I still struggle with. I blink back tears of gratitude. “Merci. Thank you.”
Kemli bustles to my side, all energy this morning. She tucks an extra hood around my hair and then hands me a pouch of still-warm cookies, Zalene’s favorite, from the pungent scent of them. “I will make a big hot meal for all of you,” she says. “So when you come home, you can eat and relax.”
Home. I smile at her through the tears springing to my eyes. “Thank you, Maman.”
She touches my cheek. “They know how to survive, my daughter. They will be all right.”
“I know,” I tell her, my voice hoarse. “I keep waiting for signs of luck, but…I am tired of waiting. I am making my own luck today.”
“Good,” Kemli says. “Go and bring them home.”
18
ZENNEK
“Papa, are they ever going to leave?” Zalene touches my knee, her little voice full of quiet frustration.
I rub my burning eyes, and the lids feel as heavy as stones. “I do not know, my little one.”
“I miss Maman,” she says, her little lip wobbling, and I hug her close.
It has been a long handful of days. The metlaks—seventeen of them—have not left this area. They smell our fire, and perhaps our food, and so they hover just outside our cave, waiting. They know we are in here, but they do not know what to make of us. When they venture close, I can see that they are painfully thin, and they constantly dig at the cliff walls, looking for bits of vines to eat.
I think they have decided to wait us out, and the realization is a troubling one. We are low on fuel chips for our fire, and once they realize it is gone, they will grow bolder and bolder until they strike. I do not want to think of what will happen when they do.
Metlaks will eat anything, and the thought fills me with dread. I rub my brow, trying to think. My mind is foggy, and I have not slept since the storm. I cannot, because I have to watch over my Zalene. She is small and needs protecting, and if the fire should go out, I worry the metlaks would be in our cave in an instant.
If I could rest, perhaps I could form a plan to get us out of here, but I am beyond tired. I cannot think past the need to protect my little daughter.
“Papa,” Zalene whispers again, tapping my knee.
“What is it?”
“You don’t look good. Your eyes are all red and you have black shadows under them.” She crawls into my lap and tucks her face against my neck, her horns poking at my jaw. “You’re not sick, are you?”
“No, little one,” I reassure her, rubbing her back. “Just tired.”
“Then why don’t you sleep?”
I can’t hold back my heavy sigh. “I would like to, Zalene, but I must watch the cave entrance to make sure the metlaks do not come closer. I must keep the fire going as well. I must watch the skies. I must—”
Her little hand touches my chest, patting it. “I can do those things, Papa.”
“No, Zalene—”
“I can do it, Papa,” she reassures me. “I can sit right here and watch the outside. I can stir the fire so it doesn’t die. I can help. And I can tell you if the metlaks move. I’ll wake you up.”
I rub my gritty, aching eyes again. “I do not know…”
“I’ll sit right here next to you, Papa,” she says eagerly, and demonstrates, moving next to me at the front of the entrance. “And I’ll watch the metlaks ever so closely. If they move at all, I’ll wake you up and you can take care of things.” She beams at me, so enthusiastic.
And I am so very,
very tired. Perhaps that is why I agree. “You will wake me if they move closer to the cave?”
“Oui, Papa.”
“And if they do anything unusual?”
“Oui.”
“And if the fire starts to go out?”
She nods at me, all eagerness. “I can do it, Papa.”
I am torn. She is so little yet, but I am exhausted and I know that soon we must leave this cave and head back to the village, and I will not be able to do it if I do not manage to sleep some.
I do not have much of a choice. I pat my daughter’s head before leaning back against the cave wall. “I will just close my eyes for a moment…”
“I’ll watch over you Papa,” she promises, but I am already asleep.
* * *
“Papa,” Zalene whispers.
I jerk awake. It feels as if I have not slept for longer than a moment. “What?”
“J’entends Maman.”
I frown at her, trying to understand what she is saying. What does she mean, she hears her mother? But then…I hear it too. There is a loud screech in Mar-lenn’s native French. “Casse-toi! Cours, connard! Allez-vous en ou je vais vous casser les couilles!"
My mate is here. I can scarcely believe this. As I get to my feet, pushing Zalene behind me protectively, I hear others calling out and yelling. I move forward, casting aside the screen over the cave entrance, and I see them.
My father, Borran.
My brother Salukh.
Vadren. And then my mate, my beautiful, fierce Mar-lenn. All of them carry torches and they wave them at the metlaks that have been squatting a short distance away from our cave, waiting to eat our food.
Of course my fierce Mar-lenn has come after me. She never lets anything stand in her way. A laughter of pure joy—and relief—bubbles up in my chest, and I grab Zalene’s hand, stumbling as I come out of the cave and approach them.