by Karen Pepin
Blood dripped from its mouth and trailed down its long, sharp teeth in front of me. I shoved at the animal, but was pinned. The reality of being trapped under this creature, surviving its attack only to be trapped and possibly die if I couldn't get free, swelled my chest with panic. Panting, I shoved and bucked my body, trying to move its enormous weight. It didn't move. I tried to kick my legs, squirm, anything, but I was stuck. Tears leaked from my eyes. I couldn't die. Not like this. Not now. I killed the hotar. I was going to live. I had three animals to butcher. Get up! Get out! The cold ground was already leaching the heat and strength from my body.
I lay there for a moment, paralyzed, trying to gather my wits. There was a tree nearby. I stretched my arm towards it, fingers brushing its cold bark. I couldn't reach far enough to grab it and pull myself loose. I tried, ripping two of my fingernails in the process. There were no other trees close by. I screamed my frustration and heard the thudding steps of the katerri as they ran from the sound.
Oddly, that pulled a laugh from me. I couldn't give up. I couldn't pull myself out and I couldn't lift the hotar. What else could I do? The end of the spear that was all that was holding the hotar up, keeping its full weight off of my chest. Maybe I could rock it off me. If I did this wrong, it would collapse fully on me and I'd suffocate, smothered under its weight. I would have to chance it. Otherwise, I would be stuck here until I froze. Already the backside of my body was growing numb.
"Please help me, Wanderer and Hunter. Please give me the strength to do this," I pleaded.
I began trying to rock the body, making my hardest push towards the spear. If I could get the body moving that direction, it would continue to roll and I would be free. The spear butt skidded in the dirt, dropping the body lower on me. I braced myself against the spear to hold it steady while I started rocking the body again.
For a long time, I seemed to be accomplishing nothing. Then, the body started to go over the spear. I pushed until I saw white splotches in front of my eyes and my shoulders felt like they would tear from the strain. I pictured Davin's face, my mother's, my clan, and used every iota of anger and hope and fear of never seeing them again to shove with against the beast. Slowly, slowly, the hotar started to roll off me. I twisted and kicked and pushed my way out from under it before it could roll back onto me. I collapsed on the ground a few feet away.
My entire body shook. I tried to push upright, but my arms weren't ready. That was fine, I thought, resting my head on my forearm. I would just lay here for a moment. I was alive. I was free. Once I started crying, I couldn't stop, not for a long time.
Finally, chilled to the bone and exhausted from crying, I wiped my eyes and tried to stand. My right leg ached terribly, but it held my weight as I limped over to my crutch. I needed to butcher the katerri and hotar, but I felt too exhausted to do more than slit their throats to bleed them out. I went into my den and sat by the fire for a time, letting the warmth soothe me and remind me that I lived. It seemed surreal.
After a time, I forced myself to go back outside and do what I needed to do. The suns would go down before I could finish butchering even one of the animals. I didn't want to leave them out overnight though. Hunter forbid, the kills might attract other predators.
I pulled some wood from my supply and built a fire near the bodies. The fire would give me light and a little warmth while I worked. It would also keep other small predators away. I worked long into the night, skinning and removing the meat and other useful items. I considered dragging the stripped corpses into the woods for the scavengers, but my arms ached too badly to try. Instead, I dragged the meat on the furs inside my den. I left it in the outer room. I stripped off my stained clothes and wiped the worst of the blood off my skin. Then I dressed in new clothes I pulled from the wall boxes, built up my fire, wrapped myself in my sleeping fur, and slept.
I woke late the next day. My arms hurt enough to make me weep, but I doggedly went back to work. I even dragged the carcasses one at a time as far out into the woods as I could manage. I had to do this work limping, since I couldn't drag them and wield my crutch at the same time. Grinding pain lanced through me with every step. My leg was shaking badly by the time I was done, but I was able to do it. I returned to my den and started smoking and curing the meat. This took several days. The snow returned as I labored.
One evening, I stood in the opening of my den and watched the icy, white flakes fall in the silence. I thought of how peaceful and still the landscape seemed. Like death. The snow covered everything in a soft, white fur. Snow was funny, in that it looked like it should be warm, but wasn't. I leaned my head against the opening, letting my eyes drift. Nothing moved. Tears burned in my eyes. It would be so easy to give up. I shook my head to dislodge such morbid thoughts. I should have felt happy and safe, but instead I felt more alone than when I had woken up in that ravine so many eclipses ago. I returned to my den and fed more green wood to my fire to smoke the meat. No matter what else was in store for me, I was alive and was going to stay that way.
17
I spent my days gathering what I could, depending on snow cover. My new garments kept me warm enough despite the dropping temperature. I managed one more katerri kill before the herd vanished, giving me enough meat to survive for a long time. I don't know if the herd migrated or had some place to den. They just stopped showing up. The red fruit was long gone at this point. I found more edibles in the structure to gather. Unnervingly, everything I found there seemed safe to eat. At least, nothing made me sick.
I particularly liked the orange roots that I found. So did the rochin. With the katerri gone, small game would provide fresh meat. Smoke-cured meat lost its appeal after a while. I practiced every day with my sling and, over time, I started being able to hit my target, eventually managing to hit seven out of every ten shots. All in all, I was pleased with how well I was doing.
Then the real cold began. The bitter air made my chest hurt and breathing difficult. Water turned into solid, slick sheets under my feet. Snow fell often. On the worst days, I hid in my den. Those days, when I was cooped up due to the cold or in the evenings after a lot of work hauling wood, I found myself looking at the images of the people who had left this place behind. I would talk to them, hoping that they would somehow answer my questions. Who are you? Where did you come from? Where did you go?
I missed the sounds of people around me. When I was young, all the noise and yammering in the clan camps annoyed me. Now I ached to hear another human voice. Some nights I would curl under my hotar sleeping furs and cry from the loneliness. The silence was almost more than my heart could bear. Even talking to myself or singing to the fire at night did not eased that ache.
I wondered how my clan was. I worried about my mother and her grief and hoped something could help her through it. Did Lasa ever find a mate? Did Lor'Li have her child? Was it a boy or a girl? I missed my clan. I even missed Ta'Bor. I hoped they were all safe and well. I missed Davin most of all on those lonely nights. Losing him left a hole in my soul, a piece only his presence could fill. I howled at the loss of my life, at the loss of Davin. Sometimes I hoped he was simply waiting for me to return. Mostly, I feared he had mated with someone else.
Then there were the days when I obsessed on what happened to me. How had I fallen? I still had no memory of what occurred. These days were almost as bad as the ones where I missed people. Rage filled me at what happened, at my twisted leg, at being abandoned by people I called family. Then the grief of loss would smother that burning rage with bitter tears.
In my dreams, I found Davin and my family at the Gathering. He would sweep me into his arms and drop me. I'd fall again in that ravine, only now I'd fall farther, the distance to the ground expanding until the fall seemed to take forever. I always snapped awake from these dreams just as I would strike the ground. My leg ached constantly. Would I ever run with the clans again? I finally decided that I would have to do something or my memories would tear me apart until I gave u
p on life, on living. I wasn't ready to die. Every day was a reminder of the blessing of my life.
One night, during the coldest part of the season, I made a vow to the Wanderer. I would return to the Gathering when the cold left the land. I could not live this way, alone. My leg was healing. I could walk without using the crutch for short periods of time. Perhaps, I would someday be able to run again. But, even if I couldn't, I still needed to see the clans again.
The canoe trip brought me east so swiftly. I guessed that it might take an eclipse cycle or more to return to the west to where the clans Gathered. The rough, hilly terrain would hinder me. Still, I was decided. My heart grew lighter for the decision. I needed to go back. I needed to see my clan, my mother, and let them know I was alive. I needed them to know that we didn't always have to abandon those injured. Lastly, I needed to tell them my story. I knew there would be doubters, those who would scoff at what I had to tell them, but I would bring proof with me. The razortooth and the images and even the clothing I found. The clans needed to know that survival in the northern lands was possible and how to accomplish it. I was living proof of that. How many clans had been lost because they didn't know how to survive the cold? Too many.
I fingered one of the rectangular registers, looking at the images of people and at the markings on the page, symbol markings that our clan leaders and elders knew. They needed to see the markings. Perhaps they could decipher what they meant. Maybe they would even grant me the secrets of the symbol markings so I could read them myself. The Wanderer led me here and the Hunter kept me safe for a reason. I needed to find out why. This place held secrets and knowledge that the clans needed to know. With all this in mind, I began preparing for the return of warmth to the land. I prepared to go to the Gathering.