The Gorge (The Others Book 1)

by Joe Zeigler

  But where is he? The other men had long returned, had fed their mates and children, and were now lying with their women. Gwuune, Danijel’s most valued scout, told her they had left him still eating the kill, butchering the rest, and packing it in a skin.

  While reserving the best parts for himself, he had let the others eat first while he kept watch. They had asked him to return with them, but he had refused. What could they do? He was the leader. Liùsaidh drifted off into a half sleep, unconsciously flexing the muscles that she used to hold him tightly inside her.

  ***

  Danijel jogged around a corner on the trail and ran headlong into a pack of wild dogs. It was not an ambush. The dogs were just as surprised as he was, perhaps more so. Dogs, Danijel knew, were terrible cowards and dangerous only in packs. They yelped and scattered. He had no choice but to press on through the center, through the small clearing in which the pack had gathered. Danijel picked up his speed as the pack of dogs gathered behind him and belatedly took up the pursuit. Regardless, soon they were so close behind that he could hear their panting, and he doubled his effort.

  The lead dog lunged and bit into Danijel’s calf muscle. He felt the impact of tooth on bone. Shaking the dog loose tore the flesh. There was a lot of blood. Danijel staggered, and he knew that he was done. There was no pain. His heart raced. Adrenaline flowed into his body. He felt a rush of heat. The injury would slow him down and weaken him. Now, he knew it was merely a matter of time. But he was Danijel and would not give up easily.

  Blood ran down his leg filling his moccasin causing his foot to slide inside it further upsetting his balance as he struggled to run. His speed slowed, and it was no longer an easy jog. His stride was erratic and his breathing hard.

  The dogs, sensing his weakness, were in full howl, keen on wearing him out and running him down. With the little air that he had, he called out. His only chance now was help from the camp, but he knew it was still too far away for anyone to hear.

  Suddenly, they were gone! As complete darkness fell, he was alone. Now silent, the dogs had melted into the brush beside the river. A sliver of moon illuminated the path, and he slowed, limping up the trail. Though he was relieved, he was suspicious. Then a green glow in the brush reflected from the big cat’s eyes caught his attention and he understood.

  The cat leapt, biting him in the face as it gripped his upper body with its forepaws and raked his abdomen with its hind claws, gutting him. Blood was flowing freely down his chest from his face. He was aware of his entrails slipping out of their now open cavity. First, he pushed against the great beast and realized struggle to be futile. His eyesight dimmed, and weakness overtook him. With the last of his strength, Danijel reached for the medallion hanging from his neck. It was over in the flash of those green eyes.

  Moving On

  No one said anything the next day when Danijel had not returned. Perhaps no one knew what to say. Most likely they considered it part of Sun’s plan and were afraid to question.

  One woman started gathering her family’s belongings, and the others did the same as if given a silent order.

  The old or unable were left behind. They expected to be abandoned when no longer able to keep up. Liùsaidh stayed with them to await Danijel’s return, though she knew it to be unlikely. Danijel’s two dogs stayed by her side. She had to remain behind—she was the leader’s mate and as such, had nowhere to go. No other man would feed her, out of respect to Danijel or fear of reprisal upon his return. Besides, she was with child, so no other man would want to feed her.

  Maybe, she thought, I could live secondhand, fed by another woman. She knew that wouldn’t last. Her best chance—her only chance—was to hope for Danijel’s return. But that hope dimmed as she watched the other women gather their belongings and slowly drift away.

  She fought the dazed listlessness taking over her body. Yesterday and earlier today, she had had so much…wealth, respect, a special place in the group. Then, suddenly, nothing to look forward to but death.

  ***

  Being suddenly leaderless seemed no deterrent for the People. In unspoken agreement, they prepared to leave this ill-starred place. Each knew what to do. They would make camp in the late afternoon. Sometimes they stayed only for a day, often longer. People would start gathering their things, and they would move on. A leader was not necessary. After all, the People had been doing the same thing for a thousand years.

  But Danijel was missed. A sober feeling enveloped the camp as some lost their faith, many felt confused, and others expected him to return. Ohad was preaching that Danijel had died so the People would be saved in a spiritual way. But he wasn’t pushing hard; it was too early and his time would come.

  In the meanwhile, he had one of the artisans make up little charms with a likeness of Danijel, which he sold for two arrowheads. They were very popular gifts for the young girls. May as well make some profit from this, he thought.

  The trees dwindled, replaced first by Douglas firs and eventually by sagebrush, as the People continued downslope. The gorge opened up, and the desert lay ahead. Here the river turned west, so they would leave it and continue south across the desert.

  That night, the group made a more substantial camp on the bank of the river, setting up the shelters for longer than a one-night stay. No one decided or even voiced an opinion. They just found themselves working together—setting up shelters, hanging lines, and creating fire pits. The People took but minutes to change an unfamiliar and forbidding clearing into a comfortable and comforting abode. A hollow between the large roots of a gigantic tree became a bed for two lovers. The area around the fire created a lounging space for the men to tell their tales—while the women prepared food—and for everyone to gather after feeding. They remembered the campsite from a previous year, and it was like coming home to a familiar and welcoming place.

  The weavers gathered grass from the river to weave into gathering baskets for use the next day. The hunters dressed the points of their spears, hardening them in the fire.

  Soon, they would face the desert and the long, waterless drive to the mountains—the most arduous part of the journey. The blistering Sun would reflect off the bare ground during the day, the cloudless skies would create frigid nights, and most importantly, there would be no water. Eventually, the trail would lead uphill into the Smoking Mountains for the final ten miles to the halfway point of the migration, the realm of the Cliff Dwellers. After the slog across the barren desert, these last ten miles would be a killer for the already exhausted travelers. Some would not make it. However, in the end, there would be water, food, and shelter.

  Liùsaidh’s Survival

  Liùsaidh spent the first night after her abandonment in the shelter that she and Danijel had made. She sat huddled in a daze and watched as the fire burned lower. She knew that she should gather firewood, build up the fire, and store a reserve for the remainder of the cold night. It had always been her job to gather firewood and to feed the fire through the cold nights. She wondered why she was not moving to collect the wood. Her spirit was numb. It felt like a dream where she was trapped in a body that would not respond to her commands.

  Eventually, the fire went out. That part of her mind that was aware despaired, as it was Danijel’s task to start the fire by striking sparks from flint or rapidly rotating a stick in a hole in a piece of wood. She had watched as he made fire; she knew the theory but was not at all sure that she could do it. In any case, her body wasn’t moving. The cold sweeping down the range chilled her despite the dogs’ warmth, and she knew this was just the beginning.

  The next day, a deep malaise replaced her paralysis. But at least I’m moving, she thought. One of the dogs caught a rabbit and brought it back to her. She tore at the carcass, picking every bit of flesh from the bones before breaking them and sucking out the marrow. The dogs sat nearby and stared, too well trained to beg. She knew she should share some of the catch with them, especially if she wanted them to bring back more. But she was hungry
and had soon devoured the entire rabbit. She threw the dry bones to the two dogs. The dogs sniffed the bones and attempted to lick some substance from them. They looked at her silently for a moment, obviously hoping for more. Then they turned as one and exited the shelter. Hopefully to catch another rabbit.

  She spent the second day attempting to restart the fire. Her first attempt consisted of frantically rotating a stick against a hole she had carved out in a log with a flint knife. Her hopes soared as a thin column of smoke rose from the wood. But no flame followed. Danijel had, she remembered, also made fire by striking a flint against stone. Sparks flew, but not even any smoke this time. Frustrated, she wept as the Sun descended, and the tears froze on her cheeks.

  She had watched Danijel make fire, though not closely enough, and she had neglected to provide tinder to the sparks.

  Over the last three days, the others left behind with her had died or wandered off in various directions in vain hope of survival. The only holdout was Glooscap, a younger man suffering from a debilitating fever and terrible chills. He was certainly contagious.

  I’m not that desperate yet. The dogs returned with nothing. They probably ate their catch before coming back. I don’t blame them for that.

  Late on the fourth night, hungry and shivering in the dark, Liùsaidh reached down and grasped the head of the dog huddled closest to her. With a sharp twist, she broke its neck. With her flint knife, given to her by Danijel, she butchered the dog. The second dog shivered and ran out into the cold night. But she knew it would be back. To survive, dogs had to be practical, as did everyone. The dog would need food, too. He would be back. If she had clung to any hope for Danijel’s return, it was now gone. Tomorrow she would have to decide. She couldn’t stay where she was much longer. Perhaps Glooscap would be dead by tomorrow, and she could take his fire.

  The next day the dog had still not returned, which may have been fortunate, as she would eventually have killed and eaten it, and just delayed the inevitable. She would not give up, but she would have to make a decision and act on it.

  It’s not that I don’t have options, she thought. It’s just that I don’t yet know what they are. It will come to me. The solution always presents itself eventually, and this is no time for that to change. I just have to have patience and survive until the future becomes clear. Sun will provide.

  However, she knew that the weather would just get colder, and the longer she delayed, the worse her situation.

  She spent the day alternating between striking flint on stone and rapidly rotating the stick in the hole. Both actions appeared promising, with sparks flying from the flint and smoke rising from the log just as she remembered from watching Danijel. But no flame, and that frustrated and bewildered her. She replayed the scene of Danijel’s fire making in her head over and over. He would briefly search until he found a suitable stone. Then, he would reach in his pouch and remove a flint. If he didn’t find one there, he would use an arrowhead or a spear point. He would strike the flint on the stone, sparks would fly, and a small flame, which he would husband into larger life, would appear.

  What am I missing?

  She played it back again in her head, watching closely. There! He set the flint down, reached back into his pouch, and removed something else, which he put down next to the rock.

  But what? It continued to elude her.

  So, for want of tinder, she spent another uncomfortable night in the cold. However, there was ample raw dog meat for now, and she gorged on it.

  Wolf Attack

  The next day was better as she huddled, well fed in her shelter, covered with furs, keeping the increasing cold at bay. That night she heard a rustling outside the shelter—wolves, standing in the clearing, waiting. Peering out through an opening in the shelter, Liùsaidh watched as they slowly circled. Realizing she did not have long to live, she resigned herself, picked up two flint knives, and stood, proud and brave. At least, she told herself she was brave. After all, she had been the leader’s woman, and she would never be less.

  This is why they left me behind with the sick and infirm, she thought. The People knew she would never accept a lesser status.

  One of the wolves poked his snout into the shelter, parting the hanging skins. Sheathing one knife, Liùsaidh struck his nose with a piece of wood she had kept dry inside the tent, intending to use it for the fire. The creature yelped and withdrew. She knew it would not be long before the wolves gathered their courage. Now she regretted killing the dog and scaring off its mate, for it appeared her only hope of surviving would be for the dog to return. Even then…

  Regardless, the wolves will pay! She could fight—like a man. Against custom, her father had trained her to defend herself as if she had been male starting when she was two years of age.

  She had no illusion but that the wolves would kill her. She had grown soft living under Danijel’s protection. That was a mistake. I didn’t want him to know how capable I was. Men are odd that way. Still, a mistake not to maintain the training, and today I will pay the price. At least some of the wolves will accompany me into the next life. She gripped the knives, one in each hand, clenching them tighter with resolve. I’ll get one, maybe two, of them. She wondered if repeating it to herself often enough would make it true.

  As she waited, no longer wrapped in the warm furs, the chill sank into her body, draining away the warmth. Impatient, she called out to the wolves, “Come, you cowards! Come now or go away!”

  As if understanding, one wolf bit down on the skin covering the opening of the shelter and pulled. The entire shelter shook. The wolf, encouraged, pulled harder as the rest of the pack started to howl, working the group into a killing frenzy. The first wolf briefly loosened the skin from the opening, and a second wolf rushed inside. The skin slipped from the first wolf’s teeth, and the opening closed again. Finding itself alone and facing its prey, the wolf inside the shelter hesitated, suddenly unsure.

  Shrieking at the top of her lungs, Liùsaidh advanced, and the wolf cowered. She smiled. Dogs were such cowards sans numbers. Swinging the knife in her left hand, she thrust with the other; again and again, she drew blood, and the creature staggered.

  Then, as the excitement of the animals outside grew, the pack finally tore the skin over the opening completely away, and attacked their wounded comrade inside. For the moment, they ignored Liùsaidh in their bloodlust. At last, with the former leader dead, the new leader of the wolf pack turned toward Liùsaidh, and the others girded themselves for the attack. Liùsaidh knew this was the end. The interval had allowed her to regain her breath. She advanced with determined resignation. She would not go quietly. The animals hesitated, and she smiled a terrible smile.

  Suddenly, there came a loud shriek and a burst of light that stopped her heart and scattered the wolf pack, causing the shelter to collapse around them. Again, the mind-numbing shriek and the bright, blinding, oscillating light. The wolves fought desperately to escape the entanglement of the collapsed shelter.

  Glooscap, apparently recovered from his fever, had come to her rescue, with a blazing torch in hand. Two of the wolves found themselves trapped, snared in the ropes and furs of the shelter. Glooscap beat them with the flaming torch until they finally escaped, worse for the experience.

  The others were already gone, slinking away rapidly to the south.

  Unexpectedly saved by a man, Liùsaidh dropped to her knees in front of him and reached up in the proper manner, as it had always been.

  They moved to Glooscap’s shelter, and later, as Glooscap slept, Liùsaidh went down to the river. She liked to bathe afterward, to cleanse her body of the various fluids and odors that she enjoyed so much during the act but found repugnant after. The water was cold, and there were dangers. In the past, the other women had often come to watch and to wonder as she organized and braided the long, black hair that reached nearly to her waist.

  The next morning, as soon as she and Glooscap had salvaged her shelter, they decided to move, to catch up with t
he group. Before packing, Liùsaidh excavated under the sleeping mat, carefully digging up the People’s Treasure that Danijel had gathered from various sources, as well as what she had hoarded on her own. There was much more than Danijel had known. Many of the treasures that Danijel thought she had bartered had actually come with no consideration given, but rather through intimidation. Another reason the group resented her and had left her behind.

  Liùsaidh and Glooscap traveled fast, and by the end of the second day they caught up with the People encamped on a flat spot thirty feet above the river. The drop to the river was almost straight down, which was inconvenient. On the other hand, this meant the narrow animal trail beside the river was also thirty feet below, with no easy access to the camp. The People had used this campsite during their biannual migration as long as memory served. It had always been secure from wandering animals.

  Ten feet above the first flat clearing was another smaller area. Here, in previous years, Danijel had set his shelter above his people. Every morning and evening, he would stand at the stone shelf’s edge to overlook the main camp below. He never gave true speeches and in fact, seldom spoke. Rather he just stood erect. Reassurance flowed from his tall, strong body to his followers—a father figure to his people, especially to the young females. Or, for them, perhaps, he was something more.

  Now the campsite was empty, which meant no one had claimed Danijel’s position of authority.

  Liùsaidh led Glooscap up the path to the upper clearing and began to set camp. Glooscap helped to clear the area of brush and leaves. Then he helped her erect the lodging from the parts Liùsaidh carried from place to place. By early evening they were finished, and it emanated a familiar and safe feeling. In this way, they made a camp of their own. They had quickly transformed the unfamiliar and vaguely threatening area into home and comfort.