Clan of the Wolf

by Avery Kloss

  “Have you ever seen something like this before?”

  “No, but I’ve heard it’s happened. Someone once said a bright ball appeared in the sky. It came from the heavens. It was the hand of the gods. This ball slammed into the ground. The result was a big flood. It killed everything in its path.”

  “I don’t recall seeing a big ball.” I pondered that. “I didn’t feel the ground shake.”

  “That didn’t happen, but … the result is the same. Too much water and … everything dies.”

  “Not everything. We’re alive. Our clan is alive. A few animals died because they can’t climb. That’s all. Come tomorrow, we’ll return to camp. It might be soggy and all our things are gone, but we can build again.”

  She smiled sadly. “Yes, little one.” Her gaze drifted, as she stared fixedly at nothing in particular. “It’ll be better tomorrow,” she murmured dully.

  “It’s going to be cold tonight,” said Ara. “We’ve a few pelts to keep us warm, but no fire.”

  We could not all sit on the same branch. I eyed the tree, wishing we had found an older, thicker one. “It’s only for one night. We can suffer for one night. Come morning, it’ll be over. We can return to the camp then.”

  Ara said nothing to that, staring stonily at the bog around us, even the birds eerily quiet. Not one single dog barked. Only wood butting up against wood made a noise, debris continuing to float past.

  I scrambled to another branch, eyeing where two intersected. “We have to try to make ourselves comfortable.”

  “Don’t fuss over me,” murmured Kia. “I’ll sit here for the night.”

  Grasping a branch over my head, I hoisted myself up, climbing as far as I could to have one last look around before the light vanished completely. Again, as far as the eye could see, the land glistened with water, the valley flooded. Despair registered, an unpleasant feeling twisting my belly. I had never seen so much water in my life.

  “Is it any better?” asked Ara.

  “No.”

  “Come down from there. You’ll fall.”

  The wind blew then, the leaves rustling. I shivered, knowing the night would bring an even colder wind. “I’m thirsty.” Stepping onto a lower branch, I descended rapidly. “We can’t drink it, can we?”

  “No,” said Kia.

  Settling on a new branch, I grasped my legs, resting my chin on my knees. “It’ll be over by morning.”

  “Try to get some rest,” said Kia. “It’s not worth more thought than that tonight.”

  It would be impossible to sleep well on a tree branch, but I tried to close my eyes, thinking of things that brought me pleasure, missing my comfortable spot by the fire with the dog at our feet. What had happened to that dog? He didn’t even have a name. He was just … dog.

  “Are you asleep?” whispered Ara.

  “No.”

  “I don’t think I’ll sleep.”

  “I know I won’t. If I do, I’m likely to fall off the branch.”

  “This is a terrible tree,” she muttered with a hint of humor. “We chose the wrong one.”

  “I agree. There’s another bigger and better, but I can’t remember where it is.” Shivering, I clutched at my legs, my knees beneath my chin. “I’ve never seen so much water.”

  “It’s … terrible.”

  “Do you think the hunters are well?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “The women and children were in the forest.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then they should be in trees like us.”

  “Yes.”

  “But … the hunters were on the open plain. There were no trees there.”

  “Please don’t fret about it now, Peta.”

  “Do you think—”

  “The men are strong. They would’ve found a way to safety. Somehow.”

  “I do hope so.” I missed Ronan dreadfully, something painful thudding within my chest at the thought of never seeing him again. It was far too soon to think like that. Come morning, everything would be better. Today was just a bad dream. That was all it was.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Upon first light, the sky looked greyish—forbidding—the brown water beneath the same, although it had receded enough to expose the lower branches. I had hoped to see the ground today, feeling angry and disappointed. My eyes felt dry and irritated, my mouth parched. I had not slept at all, and, when I dozed, I woke almost immediately, worried I might slip from the branch.

  Glancing at Ara, she rested her head against a bough, her fingers curled over it. “Are you awake?”

  “Of course I am,” she muttered.

  I did not reply to that, closing my eyes for a long while, listening to the birds; their lives hadn’t been destroyed by the water, I thought bitterly. Having little to do, I drifted into a light sleep, only to wake at the slightest noise. I shivered, a thin pelt around my shoulders, wishing I had a fire, missing my bed. Ara did not move from her perch, Kia resting as well. She hadn’t said a thing yet, although I had seen her move. None of us had any reason to do anything, trapped as we were.

  Necessity drove me from the branch a while later, where I climbed down as low as I could. I squatted, urinating, wishing I had something clean to drink. Just as I finished, something pale and long floated by, a man … the corpse bloated and grey-looking.

  It gave me a fright, and I held a hand to my mouth, horrified at the sight. “No.”

  “What is it?” asked Ara.

  “A man.”

  “Where?”

  “In the water. He’s dead.”

  “Do you recognize him?” Kia stared at me, those words the first she had uttered today.

  “No.”

  “Come away from there, child. Don’t get too close.”

  That disturbed me greatly, the man drifting away. Reaching for the branch above, I stared at the water, seeing pale shapes floating just beneath the surface, some with hair obscuring their faces, others on their stomachs. Rooted to the spot, the horror of what I saw settled upon me … so many men, so many dead people.

  “Come up, Peta,” said Kia. “Don’t get too close.”

  “Do you see that?” I glanced at Ara. “Do you see them all?”

  She stepped from the branch several above me, climbing down another and another. Then she stopped, her mouth opening. “Are those … are those … people?”

  “Yes.” I swallowed thickly, feeling as if I might be ill. “They’re all dead.”

  That statement propelled Kia to move, leaving her spot for the first time since yesterday. She clutched at various branches, her legs shaking, while staring at the water. The look on her face brought tears to my eyes. Within that expression I glimpsed terror and hopelessness … things I prayed to never see again, yet here they were.

  “Are they our men?” Her voice sounded odd, almost toneless.

  “I don’t know.” I hated to look at it, finding the sight disturbing.

  Yet, Ara and I remained where we were, watching as things floated by, the water filled with death. I knew I would never forget these images, the lives of so many lost. Why had they not survived? They were men after all. They were strong. Could they not swim?

  “Let’s not dwell on it,” said Kia, returning to the limb against the trunk of the tree. “Try to sleep. The water will recede with time.”

  Feeling ill in the pit of my belly, I climbed, determined to have a look around, although I suspected all I would see is water. On one of the higher branches, I sat with my arms draped over another for support, staring at the watery grave that once was my home. Nothing had changed about our situation, except an increasing sense of hunger and thirst. My mouth was parched. We would need drinkable water soon.

  The evening meal consisted of smoked meat, although I swallowed with effort, my throat dry. I hadn’t the energy to do much other than sit and stare at nothing, the ground still a brownish pool filled with the corpses of men and animals. I could not remember a day being longer, every moment feelin
g like an eternity, no position comfortable and my back aching. Staring at the clouds overhead, I wondered if we might have rain, the need for clean water essential. I thought of all the ways to capture it: in my hands, in the leaves, perhaps even drinking it with an open mouth. But the clouds moved on, the sun disappearing over the trees, another cold night looming.

  No one spoke for most of the day, Ara gazing into the distance, leaning against one branch or another, often climbing up and then down again, finding it a form of exercise. I searched my mind over and over, desiring a drink, knowing it to be of grave importance.

  Before the sky became fully dark, I dug through Ronan’s basket again, seeing hollow, broken pieces of antler and a variety of stone tools. I fingered each item, searching for a solution to our problem, knowing something might help, but how?

  “What are you doing?” asked Ara, startling me. No one had spoken in quite a while, only the sound of birds and insects in my ears.

  “I … wonder if I can use this to get water?”

  “Use what?” She sat on the branch above me, her arms grasping the bough over her head.

  “This bone.” I held up part of the antler, the end sharp.

  “Why? How can that help?”

  “We’re in a tree.”

  She made a face, clearing her throat. “I’m aware of that, Peta.”

  “Trees must have water to live.”

  “So?”

  “I’m … I have an idea. What if we tap into the tree’s water?”

  “How would you do that?”

  “Driving this piece of bone through the bark.”

  “It would break.”

  “But we have tools.” Suddenly excited by the idea, I thrust my hand into the basket, withdrawing various pieces of rock, some with sharper ends than others, some blunt. I had seen men working stone many times before, knowing the thicker pieces could be used to hammer the smaller ones. “I’m going to try.”

  Ara’s bland look betrayed her tiredness, her shoulders slumping. “If it pleases you,” she murmured.

  “I don’t know if it’ll work. I have to try.” Taking the items I needed, I began to pull away at the bark, exposing a softer inside, pressing a sharp tool to the wood. “I’m going to make a hole.” Then I grasped the fatter, more solid piece of stone, pounding it into the sharper one. The rocks smashing together echoed into the distance, the sound repetitive. “It’s coming along.” After pounding for a while, I removed the sharper stone, eyeing the hole I had made. “It needs more.” I searched for a thinner piece of stone, finding something suitable in the bottom of the basket. Then I hammered it into the trunk, until my arms hurt from the effort.

  “You’re wasting your energy,” said Ara. “You should be resting.”

  “I will once we have water.” Even if this task proved unproductive, at least I had done something useful with my time, besides sitting and staring into nothingness. I longed to be on my feet running around, hating being trapped in a tree. I pounded on the stone for a while longer, the thinner piece buried a good portion of the way in. After I removed it, I admired my handiwork. “It might be deep enough.” Taking a part of the antler, I drove it into the wood, hammering gently, as to not break the bone in two. “There.” I glanced at it, waiting for water to drip.

  “Nothing’s happening.” Ara yawned. “You’ve wasted your time on that, Peta. You should rest.”

  I swallowed, feeling parched and slightly dizzy. “It might flow still.” Or perhaps the hole needed to be deeper. Frowning, I pulled out the antler, placing it inside the basket for safekeeping. Then I used the thin rock and hammered it further with the heavy, flat one. “It just needs to be deeper.” Determined not to give up on my idea, I labored a while longer, the sound of rock hitting rock echoing. “I’ll try it again.”

  Kia stirred, not being able to rest because of the noise. She grasped a branch, stretching her legs. Then she climbed down further to stand near me, eyeing what I had done. “Your idea’s sound, Peta.”

  Thrusting the bone through the hole, I nodded. “I hope so. A little water would do us good, don’t you think?”

  “It would.”

  I hammered the bone in further, although I feared breaking it. “I wish for water. I’d do anything for water. We can’t go another day without it, or else we’ll have to drink the filth below.”

  “Yes.”

  Kneeling on the branch, I eyed the ivory bone, the antler buried deeply into the trunk of the tree. Holding out my hand beneath it, I waited patiently for a drop, begging it silently to work. Something wet splashed into my palm, a droplet of clear water having appeared.

  “It’s working!” I cried, feeling elated. “Look!”

  Kia smiled weakly. “Good girl. You’re a smart girl. I never would’ve thought of that.”

  “Wait, look! Here comes more!” I placed my mouth against the bone, taking in a few drops. “Water!” I glanced at Kia. “Come have some. You need it more than me. You must hurry. We shouldn't waste a single drop.” I grasped a branch, moving aside, while mamma had a drink, her mouth attached to the protruding piece of bone. “Is it not good?”

  “It’s wonderful.” She smiled in earnest now, something indefinable flickering in her eyes. I wondered if that might be a small glimmer of hope, the woman having resigned herself to death. “Ara, come have some, girl. Come here.”

  The three of us took turns drinking, although the droplets came slowly. Ara held her mouth to it for a long time, getting her fill. Then Kia did the same, and I after. The clean water improved our moods instantly, a conversation beginning, where before there had been silence.

  “Even if we can’t leave for days,” said Kia. “We can wait it out. Someone could even test the water tomorrow. See how deep it is.”

  “I can do that,” said Ara. “I feel dreadful for sitting about all day and doing nothing, while Peta found water.” She smiled brightly, a happy, thankful look upon her face. “You saved us. You’re so much smarter, Peta. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it.”

  “I spent all day wondering how to get water without rain. Then I thought about the trees and how they get water. They have water in them.” I shrugged, quite pleased with my success. “That’s how I came to this idea. Luckily, we have some tools. We’d be in dire trouble without a few tools.”

  Kia ruffled my hair with her fingers. “You’re a gift, Peta. A true gift.”

  “I don’t see myself like that. I’m just thirsty. We would’ve drunk the dirty water, if we had to. We’re not going to die.” A hint of determination laced my tone. “We can last longer now in this stupid tree, if we have to. I don’t know when the water will recede, but we’re fine for now.” I thought of the others clinging to trees, if they were fortunate enough to climb them before the flood. They would be just as thirsty. Did they have the tools to dig into wood? “We’re lucky.”

  Ara smiled. “I never thought of being trapped like this as lucky, but I can see what you mean.”

  “This will buy us time.” Kia eyed the ivory, observing the water seeping out. “I’m drinking more. I’m going to drink until I can’t any longer. Then we have to try to sleep.”

  “A little sleep here and there will do,” said Ara. “Come daybreak, things will look brighter. I … have a notion the worst is over now.”

  I had to hope she was right, but some doubt remained. “I want to drink again too. I don’t think I’ll ever get my fill of fresh, delicious water.”

  Kia nodded. “You did a fine job today, girl. I wondered if it would work, and it did.” She reached to touch my face. “Thank you for this. I feel so much better.”

  Seeing her happy warmed my heart, the sentiment euphoric, the moment as close to bliss as I could hope for … but a cold, uncomfortable night loomed … and we were still trapped in a tree.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “What do you see?” asked Kia, standing on a limb beneath me.

  I wanted to cry, every bone in my body aching from having to sit on
a hard branch all night long, not being able to sleep for more than moments at a time. “Water.”

  She let out a frustrated, strangled sounding scream, frightening the birds in a nearby tree. “This horrid water!”

  Leaning against a branch, I sighed heavily, hating having to live like this, annoyed beyond comprehension. Reaching for the branch above, my fingertips brushed the edges of it, but not before my foot left the one beneath. I had meant to climb higher, yet, suddenly, I fell, having missed the branch altogether. Dropping between the boughs, I landed in the water, the coldness stunning me.

  “Peta!”

  Gasping for air, I struggled for a moment, until my foot felt the bottom and I stood, gazing at the water around me. It reached my shoulders, the brownish depths cold and laden with branches and leaves. I hadn’t hit anything on the way down, which was fortunate, as I could have broken bones or worse.

  “Are you all right?” Kia climbed to the lowest branch, her eyes wide with alarm. “Peta?”

  “I can stand. See.”

  She released the breath she had been holding. “I see, but you terrified me.”

  Ara stepped to another branch, gazing at me. “If you can stand, we might be able to also.”

  “She’s taller. It’s to her shoulders. It would be to our chin or higher.”

  “This is a good sign,” I said, grasping for a branch, and hauling myself up. I shivered, wrapping my arms around my chest. “It’s slowly going down. In another day, we should be able to leave.”

  “Where would we go?” asked Kia. “There’s no dry ground. We won’t be able to make a fire. We have some meat left and water. Sleeping is difficult, but we can’t sleep on wet ground.”

  I pondered that, trembling. “I … w-w-wonder if w-we can’t make a platform.” I eyed floating wood, having an idea. “Now that I can s-stand, I can bring things.” An idea began to take shape. “We can m-make a place for us to sleep.”

  Ara smiled. “Yes, do it. You bring us the wood, and we’ll manage the rest.”