by Jo Sandhu
Luuka turned away to stare down river, and Tarin pretended he didn’t see the angry tears glinting in his eyes. He put a hand on Luuka’s shoulder.
‘In Mammoth Clan, when someone dies, their totem comes to see them on their journey. When a child dies, we say Spirit of Mammoth comes too, to show the little one how special they are. They are well guided and protected on their journey. Retu will find his way.’
Luuka drew a deep breath and nodded. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘It was just that all this time, I thought them together. Now, if she is alive . . .’
‘Then you want to find her,’ Tarin finished for him, his thoughts bleak. ‘It is natural.’
Luuka placed Utu back onto Tarin’s shoulder and made a sound of frustration.
‘But I don’t! That’s just it, Tarin. I mourned my mother and my brother, for a long time and deep in my heart. But I have said my farewells. I have accepted their deaths. Now, it seems our mother lied to us.’ His voice trembled.
‘She may not have lied,’ Tarin said. ‘She may have been sick and recovered.’
Luuka shook his head, as though to chase away the darkness of his thoughts.
‘I don’t want to find her, Tarin, but Kaija does, and she is my sister. I will go with her, if that is what she wants.’ Luuka’s hands dropped to his sides. His shoulders slumped. ‘What about you? What will you do now? Will you come with us?’
Tarin kicked the dirt at his feet, his heart as heavy as if it were made of rock. Behind him, the lodge door opened, and he knew even without turning around that Kaija was there, waiting for him to answer.
But what answer could he give?
Mammoth Clan still needed him – not to take an Offering to the Earth Mother this time, but to hunt for them and help them to survive the next Winter. He could hunt in his father’s place, while Kalle recovered. There was nothing he could do for Asa, Eero and Ilmi, but what if the coming Winter was even harder than the last? Hunger Winters, when hunting was poor and there was too little to eat, often came two or three years in a row. Maybe he could save the others. Maybe it would be his mother and Saara he could save.
He raised his face to the sky and studied the sun and the clouds. Summer was moving, but if he kept a good pace, he could be home before the last berries fell and the last of the migrating herds would be moving towards their Winter grounds. Then he could use the spear thrower and his new hunting skills to provide meat for his family.
He clenched his fists, as though he were holding a spear, and his eyes narrowed as, in his imagination, he followed a herd of aurochs through the grasslands.
‘Tarin?’ Kaija spoke behind him, and his vision faded.
His thoughts left the grasslands and returned to the present. On his shoulder, Utu fluffed his injured wing and Tarin flexed his own shoulder. Would his arm even heal in time to hunt before the Winter? It would have to.
And what of his new clan? What of Wolf Clan? They had survived only because they had each other. How could he think of leaving them? The wolves were playing a wrestling game, rolling in the dirt. They shook themselves and ran to him. Nilkka placed her paws upon his chest and licked his chin. Tarin buried his face in her soft fur and breathed in her scent.
How could he leave them? Any of them? It would break his heart. But somehow, he had to make the choice.
His old clan, or his new one.
He left them all by the lodges and slowly walked the steep climb up the fell. He remembered Kai telling him of his own trek up the fell near Musk Ox Camp, and the idea that he could see far away across the tundra. Tarin had the same feeling, standing there on the summit, the ground dropping away from him and the soft hills stretching as far as he could see. It was a wild land, with vast spaces and ice-filled winds. Tiny, delicate sorrels and other low-growing herbs clustered in rocks. Heathers, berry bushes and tough lichens thrived. This was the land that ran in his blood, Tarin thought, and he drew in a deep, cleansing breath and held it in his lungs until the world spun and he thought he would fall.
He watched Kaija climb up the fell towards him. Back at the lodges, people were going about their day – collecting water, building fires and preparing food. The Musk Ox men were tightening straps and checking their supplies. After sharing food, they would be leaving. There was no reason for them to stay any longer.
Kaija’s face was pale and tear-marked. She took a step closer. ‘I need to find my mother. I need to tell her –’ Her voice broke. ‘I need – ’
‘I know.’ Tarin held his hand out to her and she came to him. ‘I know,’ he said again, wrapping his arms around her. He knew every thought, every pain that was in her heart and mind. He knew the guilt she felt, running and leaving her mother alone with the sickness and death at River Clan. He knew the fear that drove her to follow Boar Clan, even though the chances of finding Luuka alive had been slim. And he knew the way her heart was breaking now, at the thought of their little clan parting ways.
The same heartache split him in two. But what good was screaming? What good was crying? There was nothing more to say. Then Luuka was there with them, and the wolves, and all they could do was hold each other, Rohk, Nilkka and Utu clustered at their centre. And when they finally drew apart, the wolves lifted their heads and howled, no longer baby howls, but full-blooded wolf howls. The sound echoed through the fells and across the grassy steppes and Tarin knew that sound would remain in his heart, for the rest of his life.
There was nothing else to say. They could spend days arguing and discussing, but all the time, the reindeer traders would be travelling further away and Summer would be giving way to Autumn. If they were to go their own ways, it would have to be now. This day.
But the parting was hard.
Kai, Aatos, Timo and Petri were the first to leave. Their way was towards the rising sun for five days. They would arrive at Summer Gathering in time for stories to be swapped and hunting plans made for the Autumn, when the great herds of bison, aurochs and mammoth would once more be on the move.
Saying farewell to Musk Ox Clan was harder than Tarin expected. A lump stuck in his throat and the wind stung his eyes. Kaija hugged each person, and Tarin was surprised to see even gruff Aatos had to wipe his eyes. Rohk and Nilkka jumped up at him, trying to lick his face. The big man growled at them, then threw two strips of dried meat into the air. The wolves yelped and pounced on the meat, before wrestling each other to the ground.
‘I shall miss those pups,’ Aatos said. ‘Although by the size of them, they will not be pups much longer. Next time you visit us, Tarin, make sure you bring them with you.’
‘I will,’ said Tarin, but he wondered if he would ever see them again.
That left Tarin, Kaija and Luuka.
Kaija, Luuka and the wolves would head north, towards the mountains.
‘Five days is a lot to make up,’ Osku said, and he clapped Luuka on the shoulder. ‘But you are young and strong and the days are still long.’ He sat with them over food, scratching a map in the ground. ‘Two days in this direction, then you’ll reach a big river. It’s a wide river, too wide to cross here, but if you follow it for another three days, it will start to narrow.’ He traced their course in the dirt. ‘If on the third day, you find a place to cross, do so. The river is still wide, but it flows slowly there.’
‘And the Karvkh live in the foothills of the mountains?’ Luuka asked.
Osku nodded. ‘Once across the river, five or six days’ journey and you will leave the grasslands. You should be able to see the mountains before then.’
Luuka nodded and studied the map. ‘You could journey a way with us, Tarin, and cut westwards after the river.’
Tarin swallowed the lump of meat he had been chewing. It felt as though it was made of flint and tasted of ash.
‘It will save me a river crossing if I head west now,’ he said, and he didn’t meet Kaija’s eyes.
Osku nodded. ‘Food and water will be easy for you to find. The berries are good this year.’ He glanced at the sky.
‘The winds already warn of an early Winter.’
The ever-present threat, Tarin thought. If he cut straight across the tundra, he would be home before the first snow falls. If there were no delays. And what about Kaija and Luuka?
‘We will Winter with the Bear People if we have to,’ Luuka said. ‘Or with the traders. Either way, we will see you this time next year, Tarin.’
Tarin nodded. His voice refused to leave his throat. Allowing for river crossings and delays, it would take the others a full moon cycle before they reached the Karvkh. It wasn’t just travelling time they had to take into account. They would need time to hunt and search for food and water. The land they would pass through would be teeming with wildlife and ripe fruits and berries, but if they had to camp with the Bear People over the Winter, they would have to wait out the Spring as well. Travelling on the tundra during the thaw was treacherous, for the earth warmed just enough to create a patchwork of marshes and bogs. It could be a full year before they reached Mammoth Clan.
‘I will look for you this time next year,’ Tarin said, forcing the words from his lips.
Their meal finished, it was time for him to go.
He knelt before the wolves and wrapped his arms around them, welcoming their kisses. He breathed in their scent and ruffled their fur. ‘Be good,’ he said. Utu jumped onto their backs and rubbed his head against them. The wolves licked the little owl in return. Utu fluffed his feathers and gently nibbled Luuka’s finger as he picked him up and settled him on Tarin’s shoulder.
Tarin held his hand out to Luuka. ‘I will see you again, Luuka of the Wolves.’
Luuka nodded. ‘We will see you again, Tarin. Brother.’ And the two boys embraced.
Then Tarin turned to Osku. ‘I thank you for all you have done for us.’
The big man shook his head. ‘You have helped us mourn our dead. That makes us kin, young Tarin.’ He handed both boys a parcel. ‘Farewell gifts for you all. Cordage we weave from the hair of the bison. It is good, strong rope, and can be very useful on journeys such as yours.’
Tarin ran his hand over the rope. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘This is well made.’
Osku nodded. ‘A good journey, Tarin. And a safe one.’
Lastly, Tarin turned to Kaija. He wished he had the words to take the sorrow from her eyes, but there was nothing he could say. He gripped her shoulder gently. ‘Safe journey, Kaija. We are Clan. We will see each other again.’
Kaija straightened her shoulders, lifted her head and nodded. ‘Yes,’ she said, and stepped away from him as he swung his backpack onto his back, raised his hand one more time in farewell, and turned towards the track that would lead him back towards Musk Ox Camp and across the tundra to his home.
Summer was deepening – the grasses had already lost their soft greenness and the birch leaves were turning gold. Tarin only noticed how advanced the season was now he was once again travelling through sparse forest and tufted grassland. Berries ripened on low-growing shrubs and vines and made an easy meal as he walked. Soon his fingers were sticky and stained crimson. He scratched at the small biting insects that swarmed around his legs and arms.
‘What would Kaija suggest,’ he murmured to Utu. ‘Camomile wash probably.’ Then he drew a deep, painful breath. The thought of Kaija, Luuka and the wolves stopped him in his tracks. His legs refused to move forward and even his breath was suspended. The pain was too raw. He closed his eyes and imagined if he opened them again, he would be back with them. Utu tweaked his ear and his eyes flew open. He was still alone. Utu dug his claws into his shoulder and Tarin winced.
‘Not alone,’ he whispered and scratched his head. The owl twittered and rubbed against Tarin’s neck. He wondered what the others were doing, then decided it was better not to think that way in case he turned around and ran back to them. He had to keep going. He had made his decision. Now he had to follow through – point his face towards the setting sun and keep thoughts of the others out of his head. They would see each other again someday. They had all decided. If not by Kaamos, then in the Summer.
Tarin glanced skywards. In the days to come, the night sky would grow slowly darker and he would use the stars themselves to lead him home. There was a story his mother used to tell him when he was very small. It was about a group of stars called the Great Bear.
‘See Little Bear next to Great Bear?’ Aila would ask, pointing to the sky while Tarin cuddled into her lap. The fire blazed, the Mammoth Clan men sang long, slow songs, and the huge black dome of night rose above him. ‘Little Bear is pulling Great Bear’s tail as he fishes for salmon.’ Tarin smiled to himself and breathed in. He could almost smell the scent of pine wood and smoke. ‘Little Bear is naughty, but see that bright star on his tail? That star will always lead you home, Tarin. No matter where you are in the world.’
Tarin looked for the Great Bear, but the sky was rosy gold and too light to see the stars. He lengthened his stride, eager to make the most of the long day, but came to a sudden stop as he reached the summit of another hill. He could smell smoke. It wasn’t his memories playing tricks on him. Through the trees he thought he caught a flicker of red, like a tail, but it was gone before he could decide if it was a fox or a trick of the light. Then he saw another glow through the trees. A fire!
Carefully, slowly, Tarin moved forward, but he had only taken a few steps when a voice called to him.
‘Hurry up, Tarin Owl. The food is ready.’
Minna sat hunched over her small fire, feeding twists of pine and dried moss into the flames. Two fat trout baked on the hot rocks at her feet and a bone cup of tea sat steeping, fragrant with pine needles. With a sharp flint blade, she cut curls into another pine branch and added it to her fire. The flames leapt, sparks spinning skywards.
‘Eat,’ she said, taking up her own fish.
Tarin sat cross-legged next to her and took his fish with thanks. It tasted good and filled his belly better than his feast of berries, even after sharing half of it with Utu. He leant back against a rock, drowsy, but far enough away from sleep to enjoy the hot tea, the crackling fire and the cool, scented night air.
Minna tipped her pieces of reindeer bone into her lap and let her hands move through them. Her lips moved almost soundlessly, but her words were carried away on the breeze.
‘I saw the sign of Owl before. What do the other carvings mean?’ Tarin asked. Minna’s eyes were fixed on the fire. The flames reflected oddly in her grey eye.
‘Raven and Fox and Hawk and Wolf and Bear and Otter and Deer,’ she murmured. Her voice was low and musical. ‘Raven and Fox and Hawk and Wolf and Bear and Otter and Deer . . .’
‘What’s this one?’ Tarin pointed to a bone with a strange figure carved on it, like a man holding two large spears, one in each hand.
‘Spirit of Forest,’ Minna said. ‘This is Snow. This is Ice.
This is Rock.’
‘What do they do?’ Tarin asked. He missed his Owl pendant. He missed the feel of it about his neck and he missed being able to touch it when he most needed to speak to Owl.
‘They tell me a story,’ Minna said, still humming beneath her breath. The bones clinked as her hands moved.
‘How? I don’t understand.’
She stopped singing and looked at him. ‘They tell me a story. They don’t tell you a story, Tarin Owl.’
He felt as though she had scolded him, but he tried again. She reminded him so much of Saara, not in the way she looked, but in the way she moved and talked and refused to answer him if she didn’t want to. He could imagine her standing with her hands on her hips scolding him, just like Saara used to. Thinking of his sister, a lump stuck in his throat and he swallowed hard.
‘What are you singing? I heard you singing back at the Ungirski camp, too. You sang when you were sitting by the grave.’
‘You have to sing to the bones, Tarin.’
Again, he felt rebuked.
‘The bones are important. They like you to sing to them.’ Tarin opened his mouth to s
peak, but Minna continued. ‘I sing to my mother’s bones.’ She patted a deer hide bag next to her. ‘She wants to go home.’ She scooped her pieces of bone back into the otter skin bag and held one piece out for Tarin. It was reindeer bone, he was glad to see, and oval shaped. A small hole was bored in one end for threading onto a leather thong, and in the middle – the totem mark of Owl. Tarin drew in his breath and gently touched the mark with his fingertips.
‘Owl!’ Then his fingers traced further. ‘What are the other marks?’
But Minna just shook her head. ‘You have to find that out for yourself, Tarin Owl. You have to sing now. Sing your own story.’
She knelt close to him, so he could see the shapes of grey clouding her eye and smell the scent of pine needles on her breath.
‘I am not like you,’ she said. ‘I am not Spirit Keeper. I am Shaman. We walk the land and live beneath the sky. And the song is how I call my Wolf Bird to me. I sing my song and my Wolf Bird comes. You sing your song. You have a story to learn.’
She held her hands out towards the fire and closed her eyes. ‘Raven and Fox and Hawk and Wolf . . .’
‘Wolf Bird?’ Tarin asked. He had a memory of hearing that once before, but the memory was faded and confused. He had been with Old Mother.
White Fox Clan! Tarin remembered suddenly. They had been visiting Old Mother’s kin, far to the north.
‘Wolf Bird. Sky Wolf. Raven,’ Minna said. She reached forward and pinched his arm. ‘Sing your song, Tarin.’ Her voice was sharp.
Tarin flinched. ‘But I don’t have a song.’ He tried to concentrate on her words.
‘Raven and Fox and Hawk and Wolf and Bear and Otter and Deer . . .’
Her totems? Her guiding Spirits? Tarin wondered. He started humming, following the rhythm of her song. He felt awkward. Utu hissed and flexed his good wing.
Maybe if I sing to Owl, he will hear me again.