Spirit and the Skull

by J. M. Hayes

  The sun was dropping toward the hills behind which it hid for a longer time every night. My bladder was full. I stepped to the edge of the ridge and emptied it. Then gathered my robes and spear and followed Stone.

  “This way.” He led me away from camp to a game trail that cut down a steep slope toward the water.

  “What is it?” I asked. “Where are we going?”

  “Not much farther,” he said. “Right in the brush over there.” He pointed away from the trail to a spot where bushes and dwarf willows had created a nearly impassable patch. “Only a few steps in there.”

  “What am I looking for?”

  Stone shook his head. “I want you to see this for yourself. Then you tell me what it is.”

  Very mysterious. And why would Stone come get me, and only me, to identify something for him?

  The brush tried to snag my leathers, but I could see from crushed leaves and broken branches that someone had been there before. I began checking the ground ahead of me, trying to determine where this makeshift path ended.

  Stone put one hand on my shoulder and pointed with the other. “See it? Down there by the stream.”

  I looked where he was pointing. Other than a sudden drop just a pace in front of me, all I saw were willows, water, grass, and rocks. Nothing unusual.

  I shook my head. “I don’t see it.”

  “Lean forward a little,” he said. “I’ll hold you.”

  The drop was just a step in front of me. Who knew how solid this footing might be? To my right stood a short, thick willow, solidly rooted on the slope. I took a step toward it and grabbed a thick branch, thinking I could use it for support if I needed to lean over the edge. As I stepped, Stone suddenly pushed against the shoulder he’d been holding. I lost my balance and jumped for the heart of the willow. I didn’t make it. My feet went out from under me and I found myself dangling over a drop of what must have been five times my height.

  I turned toward Stone for help. His arms waved as he tried to keep his balance. I thought he must have tripped and grabbed at me to keep from falling. Except I was no longer there. As I watched in horror, he toppled over the edge. For an instant, he hung there, eyes wide with surprise, mouth open, uttering a very un-Stone-like shriek.

  The drop sloped slightly out toward the stream. Just enough for him to strike it head-first before he tumbled to flat ground a few paces short of the water.

  I kicked and grabbed and finally got my other hand on a solid branch and pulled myself back into the thicket. “Stone,” I called. “Are you all right?”

  Stupid question. I knew he couldn’t be all right, but I hoped he’d answer, that at least he still lived.

  I got no reply. From what I could tell, he wasn’t moving. He wasn’t lying at a natural angle. One of his legs was broken. I could see no safe way down to him from that spot, so I scrambled back over to the path and descended as fast as I could. I tore through the willows and found him, to my surprise, still breathing. Wheezing, actually, through bloody bubbles. I might be a skilled healer, but his injuries appeared beyond my ability to mend. With Gentle Breeze’s help, maybe we could save him. I wondered if he’d want to live as a cripple. Perhaps Willow—The Mother—might provide some miracle if we could get to her in time.

  That would be a problem because I couldn’t even carry him back up the slope to the camp by myself. I bent and put my face next to his. To my surprise, his eyes were open. They even focused on me.

  “How’d you know?”

  I could hardly hear him.

  “Know what?”

  “Know there was nothing to see?” he whispered. “Know it was a trap? Know to step aside just as I pushed you?”

  “You pushed me?” My response wasn’t a clever technique for getting at the truth. I was bewildered, numbed by what he’d said. All I could manage was to repeat his words back at him.

  “Had to have you out of the way before you named the killer. You’d be too important, then. But dead this afternoon, you don’t matter. I can sell Down. Oh my, what a price he offered.”

  “Sell Down?” I echoed. That got me to focus. “To whom? Who offered to buy her?”

  But his eyes lost their focus and drifted shut. He still breathed, but he’d lost consciousness.

  I wasn’t sure I wanted to help him after what he’d said. But I certainly wanted to keep him alive long enough to tell me more. The person who wanted to buy Down might be willing to kill me so he could have her more easily. And maybe he wanted me dead because he’d killed Tall Pine.

  I checked Stone over quickly, to be sure he wasn’t bleeding too badly. There was plenty of blood, but none had pooled and none spurted.

  “I’m going for help,” I told Stone, even though I didn’t think he could hear me. I turned and sprinted for the trail and camp.

  ***

  I’d hoped Down would be back at the Women’s tent so I could tell her about her father in private, then send her for help while I went back to deal with his injuries. She still hadn’t returned. I slowed to a fast walk before I entered camp. I’m not sure why, but I didn’t want to arouse curiosity, especially when my explanation would likely start a panic. Stone needed help, not hysterics.

  Unlike me, our band had lost its desire to beat the change of seasons and match our migration to that of the animals. People sat about in front of their tents. Women cooked and chatted amiably while mothers watched their children play. Some of the older women sewed torn clothing or robes. Men knapped spear and arrow points. The place had the feel of a permanent camp, calm and lazy, with no concern that I had to solve a murder and announce the guilty person’s name when the council met at day’s end. But people’s eyes followed me, relieved whenever I passed them without asking questions or making accusations.

  Bear Man backed out of a tent on the far side of the fire. My tent, usually. He was one of the people whose help I needed. He heard me as I approached him and turned to me. “Hey!,” he said, startled. “I’m surprised to see you.”

  I supposed everyone had decided I’d sleep forever. I’d have been satisfied just to sleep past the night’s council meeting.

  I stepped in close and kept my voice low. I told him what had happened and asked if he knew where Down and Gentle Breeze were. He didn’t, but he offered to see if he could carry Stone up from the streambed. Or, at least, make sure no predators happened along to make matters worse.

  “Just let me grab my club,” he said. “Get what you need to treat him, and find the women if you can. I’ll either meet you on the way back, or at the spot where he fell.”

  I couldn’t think past finding my healing kit and telling Down and Gentle Breeze. Bear Man ducked back in the tent. I started to follow, then remembered I’d left my healing materials in the Women’s tent.

  Scowl sat on the far side of the fire, mending a tear in a robe. “Down was with Gentle Breeze, last I saw her,” the old woman said. “But then Gentle Breeze ran into that tent over there a few minutes ago. One of the boys cut himself on his father’s spear.”

  I thanked her and found Gentle Breeze in the tent Scowl had indicated. I bent and whispered Stone’s needs in her ear.

  “Look at all this blood,” Gentle Breeze told me. “This child nearly cut off his finger. I’ve got to get the bleeding under control before I can help you with anything else.”

  I hadn’t noticed the blood or been aware of the hysteria inside the tent. I wasn’t at my best just then.

  “Come when you can.” She nodded. “Do you know where I can find Down?”

  “She should be back at the Women’s tent soon, looking to take care of you.”

  That was where I needed to go for my healing supplies. “Hurry if you’re able,” I told her, and then headed back the way I’d come.

  Down still hadn’t returned. I found my healing pouch under a muddy pair of moccasins, tossed them aside,
grabbed the pouch, and ran out of the tent. Straight into Bear Man.

  “You don’t need that pouch anymore,” he said, “but you do need to come look at the body.”

  He led the way.

  Stone wasn’t where I’d left him. He lay at the edge of the stream, facedown in the edge of the water. His legs and torso sprawled on the bank. And one arm. The other, like his face-down head, floated in the icy creek.

  “What?” I said, completely puzzled. I thought Bear Man must have carried Stone to the water to let him drink or maybe to wash his wounds. But why leave his head in the stream?

  I ran to Stone and plunged my hands in the water, grabbed his hair, and pulled his face into the air. Stone had turned gray.

  “Why’d you leave him like this?” I whispered.

  “I found him like this,” Bear Man said.

  I didn’t believe what I’d heard. “Like this?”

  “Exactly like this, except I pulled his head out of the water, like you, long enough to be sure he was dead.”

  “There’s a gash on the back of Stone’s head that wasn’t there before. And I left him over there.” I gestured at the spot below the clump of bushes and managed to lose my hold on Stone’s hair. His face splashed back into the water.

  “Leave him,” Bear Man said. “He won’t mind anymore. Come look over here.”

  I stood, but didn’t follow him as he went to the foot of the drop. “I don’t think Stone could have crawled here. He was too badly hurt.”

  “Raven, someone moved him these last few feet. They bashed his head. See this stone and the blood on it. Then they made doubly sure by leaving him facedown in the stream. You have another murder to solve.”

  ***

  “Could an Enemy have done this?” I asked Bear Man.

  “No,” he said. “Look here.”

  The bank of the little stream was stony and covered with vegetation. But a few muddy spots showed moccasin prints. Just the front part of a foot, as if whoever made them struggled to lift a heavy weight. Stone’s body, I supposed. The prints were small, a boy’s or a woman’s. There weren’t any complete prints.

  “Notice anything unusual in the pattern of the stitching?”

  I didn’t at first. The style of the moccasins was what I’d expect of any member of our band. But Bear Man proved a better tracker than I. Or less emotional and calmer in his observations. He pointed at one of the prints. I hadn’t noticed, but when I looked carefully, just the hint of the stitching between the upper and lower halves showed along a muddy edge.

  “A small foot,” I said. “And it seems we should look for a moccasin with a twist in the stitching near the ball of the right foot.”

  “Exactly,” Bear Man said. “Now come up and look at the spot where he fell.”

  We went back to the trail, then scrambled across the slope.

  “See?” Bear Man said.

  A long, straight willow branch stretched between two smaller clumps of brush. It had been cut on both ends, though the leaves had been left along the shaft to disguise it. The middle was cracked, where Stone’s feet must have been caught by it. The ends were still firmly woven into the brush on either side. The trap had been set at the right height to trip a man looking somewhere else, as Stone had encouraged me.

  “He didn’t need that. He could have just pushed me.” Actually, I remembered, Stone had pushed me, but not until I’d grabbed the adjacent willow and tried to use it to pull myself around for a better look at what Stone wanted to show me.

  Bear Man knelt, looking at the crushed plants and disturbed earth. “You must have just managed to clear it when you jumped. And look at the crack in this limb. You’re lucky it didn’t break and drop you down there beside him.”

  I didn’t feel lucky. Stone had tried to kill me. And now someone had killed Stone. The same person who killed Tall Pine? This was complicated. How was I supposed to solve it in just a few hours?

  “What should we do, Raven? Carry him up to camp? Go get Takes Risks and Bull Hump and let them see this for themselves? Or should we see if we can find that moccasin?”

  I remembered the muddy moccasins in the Women’s tent. For some reason, I didn’t mention them to Bear Man.

  So close, I told myself. So very close. If only I hadn’t overslept. If I’d woken and discovered Down, fit enough to leave the tent on her own. If I’d thought fast enough, the two of us might have slipped out of camp together. Run for the pass through the glaciers and the mountains. Run from The Mother and her cave. Saved ourselves, if only…

  Now, my other plan probably couldn’t succeed. Or could it…?

  Bear Man interrupted my frantic thoughts.

  “Let’s see who’s in camp and who isn’t. Maybe examine a few moccasins.”

  “All right,” I said. Why not? That way I didn’t have to make a decision yet. Maybe a little more time would let me find a way out of this.

  “We can’t take long, though,” Bear Man said. “Stone’s not on any of the main trails, but he’s close to camp. Someone will find him soon.”

  “Look for Takes Risks and Bull Hump,” I told him. “I’ll find Blue Flower and check her moccasins—look at as many women’s feet as I can.” And, of course, I’d try to find Down.

  ***

  I went back to the Women’s tent first. No Down. No one else, either. But the muddy moccasins lay beside the tent’s open flap, not far from the bed Down and I usually occupied. One had a twisted leather binding at the ball of the foot. A match to the tracks beside Stone’s body. The moccasins seemed a little big for Down, and I felt sure I’d have remembered that twisted strap if she’d worn this pair before. I picked up the moccasins and began to stuff them inside my jerkin.

  “You found the moccasins,” Bear Man said.

  I must have looked guilty.

  “I wasn’t following you,” he said. “I thought maybe you’d found Down and she could help us decided what to do.”

  I showed him the moccasins, “But they’re not Down’s,” I said.

  “Whose, then? No one else has been using this tent.”

  Gentle Breeze had spent time here treating Down’s wound. Some of the other women had probably brought food or come to try and help. But only someone who’d been beside Stone’s body, probably his killer, could have brought them here and left them. Only one person I could think of seemed likely to have done that. And so I panicked.

  “Bear Man,” I said. “I confess. I killed him. I led him into those bushes and them jumped out of the way and made him trip. I killed Tall Pine, too. It was me. I’m the murderer.”

  Facts and Fictions

  Bear Man stood, looking at me and considering what I’d just confessed. He was silent for what seemed a very long time. “I suppose you could have,” he finally said. “And borrowed Down’s moccasins to shift the blame to her, except you wouldn’t want to do that.”

  He thought again for a moment, and then his eyes lit. “Ah,” he sighed. “I understand. You found the moccasins and now you think Down killed her father. Maybe the other one, too. So, by confessing, you’re trying to save her.”

  I denied it. “Oh no,” I said, “I killed them.” But he had at least part of it right.

  I’d thought at first that Down killed Tall Pine in self-defense. But since I’d gotten to know her better, I believed her denial. My heart told me she wasn’t a murderer. But what would the band think with her father dead and the moccasins that left prints by his body now lying among our things in the Women’s tent? They’d be sure she did it, unless she could prove she’d been somewhere else this time. I didn’t know about that. I was terrified the band might declare her guilty of killing Tall Pine and maybe Stone, too. Because I had no idea who’d killed Tall Pine, the only way I could keep her safe was by persuading the band I’d done it.

  “Really, Bear Man,” I told him again. “
I’m the killer.”

  Bear Man continued to stand there, shaking his head.

  “Look,” I said. “I’m going to gather the men for our council now. I’ll confess, explain what I’ve done, and they can decide how to punish me. The Mother has a purpose for Down. Remember? So you mustn’t say anything to make them suspect her.”

  I started out of the tent but Bear Man stopped me.

  “Don’t rush into something stupid, Raven. The band won’t believe you killed Tall Pine. Your confession may make them more likely to convict Down.”

  He took the moccasins I’d found and examined them carefully. Then he studied the ground around the entrance to the Women’s tent.

  “These made the prints down below. But look. They haven’t made any here. See, there…and there. These prints are smaller and the stitching is finer and without twists. They must be Down’s prints.”

  He was right. There were hardly any other prints in the Women’s tent except mine. The ones he pointed out had to be Down’s.

  “Still,” Bear Man mused, “that doesn’t explain why you found the ones with the twisted lace here. Smaller feet, already wearing moccasins, might slip inside these larger ones.”

  My head whirled. I’d thought she’d killed one man to protect herself. But I couldn’t imagine her killing her crippled father so savagely. And neither could Bear Man, though he kept finding reasons to wonder aloud if, just maybe…

  “Let’s start at the beginning, Raven. Tell me why you’re so sure Down killed Tall Pine.”

  “She didn’t,” I said. “I did it.”

  “You weren’t there when Tall Pine died,” Bear Man said. “You couldn’t have killed him or seen Down do it, because you’d scouted ahead of your band. When Tall Pine died, you were camped along the stream where you later killed the mammoth.”

  “I sneaked in during the night. Then I ran back to where I’d camped so no one would know I’d been there.”