by Jo Sandhu
‘It won’t fit in our tent,’ Luuka said.
‘We don’t need a tent,’ said Kaija. ‘We have a mammoth.’ She pushed the mammoth as far as she could into the hollow of the rocks, then curled up next to it, her furs wrapped around her. The wolves also pushed in next to her. Luuka and Tarin spread the tent over as much of the mammoth as they could and tucked it beneath his feet, then they, too, crawled in next to Kaija.
‘Tarin, show me your arm.’ Kaija reached for him, but Tarin shook his head.
‘Tomorrow,’ he said, wriggling closer to the mammoth. ‘It’s like having a big, warm, mammoth fur right over the top of us.’
And they all huddled together and slept out the storm.
By the time dawn broke, the storm had blown itself out and the sky was clear of clouds. The mammoth lay next to them, making little snoring noises as it slept. Rohk and Nilkka lay curled up next to it, pressed up against its warmth.
Tarin was still covered in mud from the rescue, so he retraced his steps to the river to bathe. His head ached. His arms and legs ached. He sat at the edge of the pond and stared at the ice cover glistening in the sun. Strange, he thought. He should feel warm sitting here in the sunshine, but he was shivering.
He broke the ice and cupped a cool handful to drink. He was very thirsty. He gathered the mammoth fur still caught in the shallows and on the reeds and spread it out to dry. He brushed the worst of the mud and ice off his clothes, then ducked his head into the icy water. It felt good to be clean. He stuffed some of the mammoth wool into his boots and took the rest back to their camp for the others.
Luuka was making tea, and Kaija was trying to brush the mud off the mammoth’s legs.
‘Why is it still here?’ Tarin asked.
Kaija shrugged. ‘He thinks we’re his herd. I’m calling him Dima,’ she said.
‘And what are we going to do with Dima?’ Tarin asked. Travelling with wolves and an owl was one thing. Travelling with an animal that needed to feed most of the day and would grow to be very big indeed was another.
‘It still needs its mother,’ Kaija said. ‘Those mammoths we passed yesterday, I bet that was his herd. They were probably running from the weather and from the hyenas.’ She looked at Tarin sharply. ‘Do you feel all right?’
Tarin nodded. ‘Tired, I guess.’ He rubbed the back of his neck and looked towards the fells. ‘We would have to back- track, but I don’t see anything else to do. If we leave him alone, he’ll perish. Either those cave hyenas will get him, or some other predator, or he’ll just starve.’
Luuka handed him a cup of tea. ‘The herd would have waited out the storm, too. They won’t be too far ahead.’
Tarin drained the tea. Poplar, he thought. Good. His head would feel better soon. They broke camp hurriedly, determined to make use of the fine weather.
Snow covered the ground, but most of it had burnt off by mid-morning. Utu flew ahead, occasionally whistling back to them. The wolves ran with Dima, fascinated by his smell. They tried to lick his face and smell him and yelped and frolicked, urging him to join them in their game.
‘Come on, Dima,’ Kaija called to him. She pushed him away from a stand of birch trees. Utu landed on the top most branches, sending a cascade of snow down on top of Kaija and the little mammoth.
‘Utu!’ she gasped. ‘You are going in my cooking pot.’
The mammoth sneezed and shook his head.
It was hard work keeping the little mammoth on track. He was distracted by the trees and the bushes, by a lump of snow and a falling leaf. He squealed in joy as they crossed a shallow waterway, and spent a lot of time tugging at the green waterweed still floating by the rock edges.
Tarin stared morosely at the leftover chunk of rabbit that was his lunch. The meat was tough and stringy and it made him feel sick. ‘Baby mammoth is a delicacy, you know.’
Luuka grinned at him, but Tarin didn’t smile back. His head still hurt and his muscles ached. He was beginning to wonder if they had missed the mammoth herd when later that afternoon they reached the top of a hill and looked down along an open valley. There, weaving their way through the tufts of grass and scrub, were the mammoths.
Dima had been distracted again by a small bird dipping and soaring in the sky and it took all three of them to turn him in the right direction. Then he decided he wanted to play with the wolves after all. It was funny to see the huge baby mammoth try to gambol through the stubby grass.
‘He’s not scared of them,’ Kaija said, watching them play together. ‘And that may not be good. What if his herd is attacked by wolves and he wants to play with them?’
‘They’d have to be pretty stupid wolves to attack a mammoth herd,’ Luuka said. ‘Don’t worry about little Dima. Once he’s with his herd, he’ll be well protected.’
‘As long as he doesn’t fall into any more bogs,’ Tarin said. He wiped sweat from his forehead and slapped Dima on the rump. ‘Move!’
Kaija remained pensive. ‘It’s sad we’ll never know what happens to him.’
‘Or who eats him,’ Luuka said.
They were nearly at the bottom of the hill when one of the adult mammoths turned and saw them. She lifted her trunk and trumpeted a deep, booming sound that vibrated all along the valley. The rest of the herd halted and turned to look as well.
Dima heard the sound and stopped. Then he squealed and ran down the hill towards his mother. The herd surrounded him, calling and rushing forward to touch him.
‘I suppose they didn’t like leaving him,’ Kaija said. ‘But with the storm on the way, they had no choice.’
‘And the hyenas,’ said Luuka.
His mother pushed Dima into the centre of the herd, and slowly the huge animals moved away, continuing their migration towards the glaciers in the north, where the snow was hard enough to walk on, and there were no mud pits to trap curious youngsters.
‘No mammoth meat,’ Tarin sighed sadly. Kaija glared at him. ‘No warm fur . . . no . . .’ Tarin stopped. His thoughts were suddenly very hazy. He couldn’t remember what it was he was going to say.
‘Tarin?’
He could see Kaija standing in front of him, but her voice seemed to come from a long way away. He took a step towards her, but his leg was as heavy as a stone. As heavy as a mountain. The valley shimmered before his eyes, rolling like the grasslands in Summer. He wet his lips, turned to the girl shouting at him, and the boy trying to hold him up, and fell to the ground, unconscious.
‘Tarin! What’s wrong!’ Kaija felt his forehead, wet with sweat, and tugged away his beaska to check his heartbeat. ‘Luuka! He’s burning with fever!’
Luuka had caught him as he fell, and now straightened his arms and legs and bunched a fur beneath his head. Tarin was moaning and trying to wet his parched lips. Luuka held a water flask to his mouth and helped him take a few sips.
‘Wh . . . what . . .?’ Tarin moaned.
‘Don’t talk,’ Kaija said. She wet a rabbit skin and bathed his face. Rohk whimpered and tried to push forward, but Luuka held him back. ‘Help me take his beaska off,’ she said. ‘And then we need a fire, and some shelter.’ She cast a worried glance at the sky. ‘There could be more snow later.’
‘I think I saw a hollow on the other side of the hill.’ Luuka held Tarin up while Kaija stripped his coat off.
‘Oh, look at his arm!’ Kaija gasped. Where the cave hyena had attacked him were two red, angry puncture marks. The skin around them was puffy and scratched, and his whole arm was swelling up. ‘How can Spirit of Owl battle Spirit of Cave Hyena?’
‘It can.’ Luuka pressed his lips together in a grim line. ‘It has to. Look at how fiercely Utu attacked that man. Owl is stronger than you think.’
As though to prove Luuka’s words, Utu flared his facial feathers and exposed his sharp beak. He looked ready to fight a whole pack of cave hyenas.
Kaija nodded, but she looked pale and worried. ‘Shelter and fire, quickly. And I’ll need the dried horsetail and bear’s claw.’
<
br /> ‘Can . . . walk.’ Tarin moaned, as Luuka bent down to pick him up.
‘No, you can’t.’ Kaija spoke sternly, but Tarin couldn’t hear her. That small effort had made him swoon again. Luuka slung him over his shoulder and they hurried to find the small protected hollow they had passed on their way up the hill.
Tarin felt as though a fire was burning deep inside him. It had started in his arm, and spread to his legs, his head, his chest. There wasn’t a part of him that didn’t ache, and the pain in his head made him wish he could sleep and never wake up. But there was still something he had to do . . . and he fought against the blackness.
He was dimly aware of voices – loud, discordant voices – that thundered in this head, and hands touching his arm so roughly he thought he might cry. A small part of him realised the voices were probably soft whispers, and the hands were gently bathing his wounds, but he was in too much pain to think clearly.
He was always thirsty, and no matter how many times water was dribbled into his mouth, it never seemed enough. He closed his eyes and lay on his furs and wished he could die. Instead, he dreamt, and even his dreams were filled with pain. In his dream, he was Tarin Owl, flying high above the fells and forests. The wind was cool, and it eased his fever. Another owl flew with him, but Tarin Owl’s wing was stiff and awkward, and he had to rest often. Then Tarin flew alone, and all his aches and pains disappeared.
He was flying over the steppes, along a rocky river valley, when he saw far below him a cluster of earth-lodges. They seemed familiar to him, and as he swooped low, a small girl ran out. She was crying and not watching where she was going. She stumbled on the rocks beside the river and fell into the water. A boy was there to pick her up.
‘Let me go!’ the girl screamed. ‘Let me go! I need to find Tarin!’
And then she was gone, and the boy was left alone by the river.
‘Go after her!’ Tarin called to him. ‘She will die.’
The boy raised his face to the wind. ‘You can’t tell me what to do, Tarin. You are not Clan Leader yet.’
And Tarin Owl was swept away, back to a small tent huddling in a protected hollow, back to a world of burning fever and pain.
‘Drink!’ a voice commanded him, and he opened his mouth and soothing tea was dripped onto his lips. Then he was flying again, only this time, it wasn’t a dream.
Tarin Owl spread his wings wide and rested on the wind He was above the meadow again and this time, the boy was standing looking upwards at the sky.
‘I have to hunt,’ the boy said. ‘I have to help my Clan.’
‘Sometimes our songs are very hard to sing, Tarin Owl,’ said Raven, swooping above and beneath him. Raven’s one grey eye winked and their wing tips touched. Tarin Owl swooped low over the boy, touching his face with his wings. The boy stood strong. He gripped a spear.
‘It is what I have to do now,’ he said. His eyes pleaded for understanding. ‘I want to fly, but I have to think of my Clan. They have Valo as Spirit Keeper. But for now they need me as Hunter.’
Tarin Owl felt a great sadness inside, but sometimes, he thought, there is nothing you can do about sadness. Sometimes, you just have to live with it and sing your song for others.
‘You will fly again, Hunter,’ Tarin Owl said. ‘Someday.’
And he and Raven rose in the air. They circled the meadow once and turned their faces to the North Star, just appearing now in the darkening sky.
‘Why did you save the mammoth?’ Minna Raven asked. Tarin Owl hovered on a current of air and lifted his face to the stars. How bright they shone tonight. How crisp and cold was the air.
‘To thank Spirit of Mammoth for choosing me,’ he said finally. And he knew his words were true. If Mammoth hadn’t chosen him, he would never have made this wondrous journey. He would never have met Kaija and Luuka, or the wolves and Utu, and his life would be very different. As he floated in the night sky, his heart filled with gratitude for the life he had been given.
Another owl joined them – a small, speckled mountain owl.
‘Kai!’ Tarin Owl greeted him. The mountain owl banked his wings and cried out in joy. He flew in great loops, low over the treetops and then as high as the mountains.
‘Tarin! Look!’
And ahead of them, sweeps of white, green, blue and deepest red – the Mother’s Lights – danced across the sky.
Tarin Owl hovered, just his wing tips fluttering, as his heart filled to overflowing with the sheer beauty of the night. The whole sky was filled with a shimmering fall of light. Then the shapes changed, and became swirls and sweeps.
‘There is Fox!’ Minna Raven shouted. ‘His tail draws the Lights across the sky.’
‘The Reindeer traders say the lights are the Great Tree,
giving life to all,’ Kai said. ‘See!’
And again, the Lights changed shape, a swirl of deepest green reaching upwards to the Spirit World, spreading its branches wide over all the earth. Tarin hoped Kaija and Luuka were watching the display from below.
He banked his wings and felt as though he were being filled with the magic of the Lights. The green was the colour of the deep forests. The blue the colour of the sky at twilight as Winter deepened. The white was the snow of Kaamos, wrapping them in a blanket of darkness. And the red was the deep crimson of lingonberries, a rare blessing from the Earth Mother.
‘See the shapes!’ Minna called, and Tarin watched the changing dance.
There was Owl, with wings outstretched. There was Mammoth, with curved tusk. And there was Wolf, his muzzle raised to howl. They would always be with him, protecting him, even if he couldn’t fly. He would walk the earth as Hunter, to provide for his Clan, and still know the Spirits were there to help him.
Tarin Owl let the others fly ahead. He wanted to be alone. He closed his eyes and drifted on the sea of light. The wind was cold. The air was silent. The night fell dark once more. Tarin Owl koo-kooed softly. Then, turning to place the North Star once more behind him, he winged his way silently home.
Tarin opened his eyes and was surprised his head didn’t shatter in pain. He stretched his limbs and sat up, and when he stayed conscious, he pushed the furs off his legs and crawled out of the tent.
Kaija was sitting by a smoky fire, waving a curl of birch bark over thin strips of drying meat. She jumped when she saw him.
‘Tarin! You’re alive! You’re alive!’ She wrapped her arms around him in a hug. ‘But what are you doing out here?’ Tarin frowned and tried to speak, but his head was heavy and he wasn’t sure how to form the words.
‘You look much better,’ Luuka said, and passed him a cup of water.
Water! That was what he wanted to say. Tarin took the cup and drained it. His head felt clearer now.
‘More,’ he said, and Luuka refilled his cup. He looked around. ‘Where are we?’
‘We made camp here after those hyena wounds made you sick,’ Kaija said. Tarin looked down at his arm in surprise. He remembered the hyena puncturing his arm, but he didn’t remember getting sick.
‘How . . . how long?’ He frowned at his empty cup.
‘How long have we been here?’ Luuka asked. ‘Three days.’
‘Three!’ Tarin sat down abruptly.
‘We couldn’t go anywhere with you so sick,’ Kaija said. ‘So we hunted a deer, dried some meat, and waited.’
Tarin shook his head. Three days gone! He glanced at the sky. And no chance of moving on today. He still felt as weak as a baby.
‘It wasn’t your fault, Tarin,’ Kaija said.
‘Yes, it was.’ Tarin frowned. ‘I should have known better. Hyena wounds always get infected. It’s the carrion they eat.’ He picked up a stone and threw it. It cost him energy and he closed his eyes, but he was still aware of the glance that passed between the brother and sister.
‘I’m fine now,’ he said. ‘We can keep going.’
‘We can keep going tomorrow, or the next day,’ said Kaija. ‘You need to recover your strength.’ Th
en she clasped his hand. ‘We’ll get there, Tarin, don’t worry.’
Tarin’s shoulders slumped, but he nodded.
From the undergrowth, the two wolves bounded towards them and greeted Tarin joyously. They jumped over him and tried to curl onto his lap. Rohk licked his wounded arm and grinned. Utu swooped from the sky and laid a dead vole at Tarin’s feet.
‘They were worried about you,’ Kaija said with a strained smile. ‘But we knew Spirit of Owl was stronger than those hyenas.’
It took two more days for Tarin’s strength to return, and another two days of short marches and long rests before Kaija stopped watching him for signs of weakness and Luuka stopped pretending he was the one who needed to rest. Even the wolves seemed to conspire against him, and one afternoon when Rohk developed a definite limp, Tarin couldn’t help but laugh and suggest they make early camp.
The fells had given way to sloping river valleys and rocky canyons, and Tarin felt they were finally moving into more familiar territory. They left the open steppes behind and passed into wooded valleys that gave protection from the constant wind of the plains.
Snow was deeper here, and sat longer on the ground. They fashioned snowshoes from twists of birch and strapped them to their feet. They hunted pine martens and squirrels and crossed many waterways that were already completely frozen. The days were short, the nights were long, and often the Mother’s Dance could be seen high in the sky.
Tarin often stared up at the night sky, wondering which of the twinkling lights belonged to Asa, Eero and Ilmi, and whether any more of Mammoth Clan had joined them in the Spirit World. He had been gone so long, and now, finally, he was once more close to home. They still set their course by the stars, but Tarin didn’t worry if the sky was cloudy for a few nights, because he felt in his heart they were going the right way. He knew this countryside, deep down inside – the shape, the smell and the feel of it.