by Karen Pepin
When I grew tired of dredging up hope, I thought about the rain. Elder Hera used to tell a story about Ahuna's tears. Ahuna loved her sister, Anari, very much. In the burning season, water grew scarce because Ahuna and Anari were constantly together. But, like all siblings, they would argue and Anari would start staying away from her sister more and more. Ahuna, missing her sister would cry and her tears would fall on the world until the sisters were rejoined.
Water equaled life for the clans. Without it, we'd die. But, it also symbolized change. When the rains came, we crossed to the south. When it grew too dry, we returned north. Even the Crossing, with its dangers, could change us. I tried to hold onto my thoughts, but the rain drumming above me lulled me to sleep.
Mid-morning on the third day, the sky cleared. I felt a great sigh of relief. I had begun to fear the rain would never stop. Noting where the suns were, I determined it was still early enough to try for a crossing. With rain becoming more frequent, I had to use the clear weather while I could. After three days of inactivity, I felt the urge to move. I was done with waiting. It was time to return to my clan. I rolled the canoe over and loaded it with my gear. Pushing was far easier than pulling with only one good leg. The canoe slid smoothly into the water. I climbed in, careful of my leg, and began paddling.
The shallows were easy enough to navigate. My hands began trembling a bit when I searched the water and found it murky instead of clear, still churned up with sand from the storm. My breathing stuttered and my heart started to pound. I couldn't see the bottom. If something were to swim below me, I wouldn’t see.
I gripped my paddle hard. I can do this. The murky, gray-green water abruptly went dark—the Deeps. I took quick, shaky breaths and paddled on. The water became very choppy. I turned my canoe into the waves so that they wouldn't roll me. The thought made me shake. The Deeps had never felt more menacing.
The current picked me up and pushed me east far quicker than I expected. The power of the Divide held me in awe. I felt weak and out of control of the canoe as the water knocked me about. I struggled to move my canoe across the Deeps, but the Northern Lands were not growing any more distant. In fact, they seemed to be closer.
The canoe lurched up and down through the chop. I swallowed convulsively, queasy from the motion. My nausea grew until it overwhelmed me. I vomited over the side of my canoe and dry heaved for the next few minutes. I took a mouthful of water from my bag, swished, and spat it out with the foul, bitter taste of bile.
The wind picked up and fluffy clouds started racing across the sky. I forced myself to dig in and paddle again, although I thought I might be sick again soon. Fixing my eyes on the horizon instead of the water and swells seemed to help keep the contents of my stomach settle, not that there was anything left inside me.
Perhaps focusing my eyes in one place is why I didn't notice the dark storm growing in the distance, blown in by the wind. The suns' light still shone on me. My determination to finish this crossing quickly was also why I didn't sense anything amiss until I felt a bump from below. I pulled my paddle out of the water and waited. Please be a sealio, I thought. Moments passed. Then came another bump. This one was harder, rocking the canoe enough to take on water. I peered around wildly. A sleek, gray fin came out of the blue-black water and struck the side of my canoe, spinning me around and splashing cold water all over me. I quickly turned the canoe so that an oncoming wave would not swamp or flip me, and then pulled my paddle out of the water again.
That fin was too big for a sealio. Perhaps my vomit had brought a large fish up from the Deeps to investigate. I was safe, I told myself. I was in my canoe and out of the water. I kept repeating that to myself, but the image of a razortooth flashed through my mind. I whimpered. Then a giant, scaled head rose from the water, nudging my canoe with its pointed snout. Screaming, I pulled away from that side of my vessel, but of course, there was nowhere to go. A large, gaping mouth opened to show triangular, dagger-like teeth. It bit down on the side of my canoe, checking if it was edible. Panicked, I brought my paddle down hard, striking it on the head. Once. Twice. One of its teeth became lodged in the wood. It began to thrash wildly, trying to free itself, knocking me around in the canoe. I used my legs as best I could to hold me in place, ignoring the pain. I realized I was still screaming. Icy water splashed over me and into the canoe as the creature struggled and twisted its giant head. I feared it would drag my canoe down with it into the dark water.
In a final fear-fueled attempt to save myself, I struck one more glancing blow just as the beast broke loose. The enormous head sank back below the waves, leaving a single tooth as long as my hand embedded in the wood. I couldn't see where the creature went. My skin tingled painfully as my fear continued to skyrocket. Where was it? Still screaming and crying, I paddled frantically back towards the closest shore, the northern lands. I didn't care if I was going in the wrong direction. I had to get out of the water before that thing came back with a vengeance. I dug each stroke in as deeply as I could manage, using strength I didn't know I had.
My panic saved me. Or maybe the Hunter had sent that razortooth to save me that day. The growing storm struck just after I entered the shallows. Had I not already been paddling in and close, my little canoe would have surely been sunk before I could reach land. I kept frantically paddling, eyes searching, half blind from the driving rain and wind. It seemed an eternity before I finally reached the shore. I struggled out of the canoe and pulled it onto the sand, pulling and pulling, crawling away from the water. When I was far enough up the beach that I had no fear that the water would reach me, I pushed the canoe over, dumping out my belongings. I crawled underneath it and pulled in my skin of meat.
I curled up into a soaked, shivering ball. The tooth hung before me, still stuck in the wood. A razortooth. It had to be. It was rare to see one swimming, since they usually were deep in the Deeps. Clans went entire generations without a sighting and it was entirely unheard of to see one in the shallows. But this. Seeing it up close. I couldn't stop shaking. Two crossings in a row. I looked past the tooth and out at the Great Divide beyond.
I couldn't do it, I realized. I couldn't cross. If my fear didn't paralyze me, the storms, which were coming too often now, would sink me. Plus, I simply didn't have the strength to paddle the canoe by myself through the current to cross to the south. I would die here in the cold season. All my dreams of rejoining my clan were just that, dreams of a foolish child. Just because I wanted things to work out, didn't mean they would. After all the loss I had seen in my short life, I knew that, but still didn't want to believe it. I had even wondered if the Wanderer and Hunter were looking out for me. But, if they truly wanted me to live, then why couldn't I cross? After everything I went through, all the pain and fear and worry, I was going to die. I was a fool. I choked on my sobs, unable to stop.
When I had spent my tears and my shaking finally subsided, I lay there on the gritty sand and stared out at the stormy sea. After a while, my mind began to work again. Could I be wrong? Could the Wanderer be guiding me? A razortooth and a storm to turn me back, but I survived them both. I survived my fall into that gully and made it to the Divide. I killed the hotar by accident and luck. I had survived things that would kill a far more experienced person. It was too unbelievable a story. If someone from the clans told this tale, he or she would be laughed out or called a liar. Could there be a reason for all I was undergoing?
The Elders said there were no coincidences. Everything that happened was laid out by the Hand of the Wanderer, even horrible and heartbreaking events. I believed what the Elders believed; I had seen too many things in my life to make me doubt their wisdom. Like when we lost Pero and Anto'Ces and then found out one of the canoes was cracked. What was this if not the Hand of the Wanderer? Still, if I wasn't meant to go south, where was I meant to go? And how would I survive the cold season?
I had no answers, only a shaky faith that He was watching over me and that I could figure out what to do. Givi
ng up after everything I had survived was not an option. The Wanderer wanted me to live and there had to be a reason, even if I didn't know what that purpose was. I stared out at the storm, listening to the drumming of rain on my canoe for a long time before falling into an uneasy sleep.
Waking brought no relief from the rain. The killing cold was coming, and I had to survive it. Keep it simple, I thought. Why did we travel? To follow the herds for food. Food. Even small game would be scarce once the cold came. Stock up.
We also traveled to escape the extremes of the seasons. Escape the cold. Find a source warmth and a ready supply of water. I stared at the canoe above me, listening to the plinking of rain on the wood. It sheltered me from the wet, but the wind still chilled me. Durable and fully encompassing shelter would be important. I needed some place to store food and wood for fire and be protected from the cold, someplace that would keep the heat from my fire despite the cold outside. Like the hotar skin kept in the smoke for curing meat, I realized.
Shelter, wood for fire, food, and water enough to last a season. A humorless laugh burst from my lips. That was all? That was not possible, I thought. How would I ever manage any of that with my leg?
A memory surfaced: I had been trying to start my first fire, but impatient as I was, when it finally sparked, I would blow too hard on it, making it sputter and die. I remember throwing down my sticks in frustration. Mother sat down beside me and said, “When you have a large or new task, you take it one step at a time.” Then she slowly and patiently talked me through building a fire again. When it finally caught, I was so proud.
One step at a time. Focus. Shelter. Once I had shelter, a base to store things, I could work on the other problems. I also needed to find more food while I was searching for a good place. My meat supply would soon run low.
The rain continued. Eventually, I decided that I had to move anyway, rain or not. I headed inland to find shelter. I had managed to craft a canoe, but this was a whole different problem and building something strong enough and sturdy enough to protect me from the cold was beyond my limited skills. Building a shelter would take a long time, especially since I didn't have a clue about how to start. I needed a cave.
The clans typically did not dwell in caves, but we used them for storing items long-term, like the canoes and ledgers. We traveled too much to make use of them. I tried to remember what to look for: Caves hid in rocky hills or cliff sides. Shiny rocks, frequently pink in hue, lay in the soil nearby, giving the clan a clue that we were in the right area to find one.
Remembering the problem of smoke in the cave where we stored our canoes, I realized I could not live in one like that. I needed a cave where the fire smoke could escape, but that could still be sealed to keep out cold and keep warmth in. I groaned: I also needed easy access for gathering wood and food for the coldest months.
The suns peeked out from behind the clouds and I marked their position as I continued to hike north. Proximity to water was a must, but my den could not be in danger of flooding. As I moved through the brush, I kept an eye out for edibles to forage, and for predators. The bollar would have gone south, but I was still very aware that hotar were here. Using the walking staff seem second nature now. It still rubbed my arm and hurt, but it was better than the alternative. In fact, by using a staff like this, I thought that maybe I could keep up with a clan, if they were at a slow jog. For short distances anyway. I pushed that idle thought away. Focus on the now. Survive first. Find the clan later.
As I walked under the trees in a winding pattern to dodge impassible brush, I must have lost my sense of direction because I came to a bluff overlooking the sea. I stared, puzzled and annoyed. I thought I had been traveling fairly consistently north. I had used the suns to plot my direction earlier when they had come out. I had been going north, so how had I ended up traveling south again and facing the Great Divide. I could see a clearing on the edge of a different bluff, not far away. Perhaps I could reorient myself there and get back on track to the direction I wanted to go.
The suns were not out from behind the clouds when I arrived at my destination, but those clouds were thin enough now that I could see their position. My puzzlement grew. Based on the time of day and their placement, I had gone north. How could the Divide be to the east of me? I stiffened in alarm. The answer was obvious and unexpected: I was not looking at the Great Divide; I was looking at the Great Ocean, which lay east of the Great Divide. I was on the eastern edge of the northern lands. The realization boggled my mind. The elders told stories of clans who tried to cross and ended up at the Great Ocean, but those stories were old and few. How had I come this far?
I wracked my brain to remember what I could about those rarely told stories. The only one I could recall was about a canoe crew that lost its paddles during a crossing. Without enough people paddling, they were pushed beyond the Divide. They made it back and told the clans about the endless waters of the Great Ocean. As hard as I tried, I couldn't recall any more of the story.
What was I to do now that I suddenly found myself standing at the edge of the world? My stomach lurched. I felt dizzy. How could I make the trek west after the cold season? It was only one long day by boat in that swift current, but I had no idea how long it would take to travel back by land with all the obstacles I would face. For a moment, I just wanted to curl up in a ball and surrender, to give in to the inevitable. Then, I shook my head, shutting down this line of thinking. It didn't matter where I was or whether I could travel back to the clans in the future. What mattered was surviving. What mattered was the here and now. Right now, shelter. A suitable cave.
The suns came out from behind the clouds. I lifted my face to their light, eyes closed, savoring the warmth on my skin, reaffirming to myself that I was alive and I could do this. With shaky determination, I opened my eyes and look around. Where to next?
A brilliant flash of light in the distance caught my attention. Shading my eyes, I could make out a large, rock plateau in the distance. The flash came again and vanished as clouds wandered across the sky. It was too bright and high to be a body of water. Maybe it was from some shiny rocks, like the ones that could be found in and around caves. What harm could it do to look? I hitched my makeshift sack higher on my shoulder and started off.
12
It seemed abnormally quiet as I traveled through the tall, dense trees in these hills. Nothing moved except the leaves rustling in the breeze. Even the drone of insects had been silenced. It could have been my presence which affected the area, or it could mean that a predator prowled nearby. My eyes flicked from brush to tree, moving endlessly, scanning the branches and brambles as fast as I could while continuing forward. The hair on my scalp prickled and rose. I picked up my pace as fast as I thought would be safe.
After a while, the feeling of being hunted faded and the woods came back to life with insect noise. I paused to rest against a tree, taking a drink of water. As I pushed myself upright off the tree, I felt the claw marks under my hand that had been ripped into the bark. I stared at the three jagged lines, one much deeper than the rest. Cold fear flashed through me, raising bumps along my bare arms. A hotar climbed this tree at some point in the past. The marks were not fresh, but they were deep. The size and depth of the marks told me that this was not a small hotar. I unclenched my spear. I knew instinctively before that there was a predator nearby. Now, I knew it by the truth, as evidenced on the tree before me. I started off again, scanning the thick brush on the ground and the branches above.
Perhaps it was good I needed a walking stick, otherwise I would have been running. Running would attract an attack if the animal could see or hear me. I tried to slow my harsh breathing. Then something large moved out of the brush straight for me. My spear was moving, striking the animal, before I saw what it was. A katerri collapsed with my spear in its belly. I nearly shouted, but bit my lip to keep from making unnecessary noise. I did yelp in surprise when the rest of the frightened herd bounded off through the tree
s.
I pulled my blade and slit the animal's neck to let it bleed out and die. I couldn't stay here long. The herd plus hotar sign meant that the predator would probably catch wind of this kill and come investigate. But, I also couldn't pass up the opportunity of fresh meat. I did wonder why a herd of katerri were still in the northern lands. They should have all migrated south by now. I was grateful that they hadn't and whispered a quick thanks to the Hunter. That was the second time in a few eclipse cycles where luck carried my spear just right and aided me. I doubted there would be a third.
I butchered the animal as quickly as I could, taking the skin and a sizable amount of meat. I wanted to put some distance between me and this kill as soon as possible. Silence descended on the woods. I could almost feel something watching me. I hastily rolled the meat I had cut from the katerri into its skin and packed it in my hotar skin sack with the little remaining meat that was in there. I fled, leaving a good portion of the animal unbutchered. With luck from the Hunter, if there was a hotar nearby, it would feast on the ample remains and allow me to escape. I went as fast as I could manage. The extra weight dragged at me, slowing me down despite my galloping heart and fear-energized limbs.
Finally, I escaped the trees and stumbled down into a grass clearing that stretched like a long wide trail for giants. Walking in this open field would be easier and safer than under the trees, dodging brambles. The clearing started not too far away, east of me, so I turned west. In the distance, I spotted something strange, something unnatural. There were several large, perfectly circular caves sticking out in the air from a larger gray object. I made my way towards it, following the valley of grass. As I got closer, I realized that the gray object and caves were huge, far larger than I thought originally. I approached cautiously, hesitant in the face of such an unknown. The gray object looked like a rock wall, except its surface seemed made of some smooth otherworldly material, not rock. Cautiously, I touched it. The slick, hard material felt icy under my fingers. I drew back and noticed many brown-red patches mottling the gray, which seemed to be flaking off like leaves from a tree. This odd wall towered above me, taller than the trees. I stared up in wonder and fear. What could have made such a thing?