by Jo Sandhu
Curiosity won, and she untied the leather thongs securing the bundle. A gasp escaped her as she examined the contents. Finest buckskin leather, a flint blade, a large tooth –Kaija examined it closely and decided it was a cave bear tooth. Two carved ivory beads and a small piece of amber.
She lifted her gaze from the precious items laid out in front of her and looked at the boy.
‘Who are you?’ she whispered, frowning. ‘And why do you carry such riches?’
The boy groaned and stirred in his sleep. Kaija returned her attention to the parcel. She felt her pulse quicken as she examined the last two items. With shaking fingers she unlaced the leather thong holding a grass-wrapped packet together.
Food! Kaija cried out in disbelief. Strips of dried reindeer and smaller packets of dried berries – crowberries, raspberries and sweet yellow cloudberries. Sweet rush roots and milk vetch pods, cracked grains of rye and beechnuts. And traveller’s cakes of rich, mouth-watering fat mixed with berries, grains and a deep, pink meat Kaija thought might be salmon. She felt her stomach cramp just looking at the feast before her.
We’re saved.
Kaija closed her eyes and clasped her pendant. Her head spun and she felt as though she couldn’t breathe. She glanced guiltily at the boy as she took one of the cakes and bit into it. Tears came to her eyes, and she forced herself to chew slowly and swallow a small bit at a time.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘But I need this food. I’ll pay you back, I promise. I’ll hunt, and find berries and mushrooms . . . I promise I will.’
She finished the cake and looked longingly at the rest, but she also knew her shrunken stomach would only hold a little bit at a time. Reluctantly, she placed the rest of the food aside and turned to the final item.
All that remained now in the snow leopard skin was a fur pouch. Kaija took a deep breath and studied the pouch. It reminded her of the one her mother carried, made of deer’s stomach and covered with ermine. This one was white, too, but it was reindeer. Inside were smaller packets of dried herbs and powdered roots. Medicine!
Kaija sorted through the small packets. She recognised the scent of camomile and wood sorrel, meadow sweet and willowbark.
Kaija, pay attention . . .
Her mother’s words came back to her. Camomile to soothe the stomach. Yellow-flowered coltsfoot to calm the most persistent cough. To strengthen the blood, take a tea of stinging nettle and hawthorn, and willowbark . . . Kaija smiled as she smelled the familiar herb. ‘Willowbark tea for almost anything,’ she murmured. ‘But especially for fever and aches.’
But how could she heat the water? Kaija looked around at their meagre supplies in frustration. She and Luuka had fled their camp so hurriedly they had brought nothing with them. It was growing light outside, and she stared out of the cave towards the river.
‘We have plenty of water,’ she murmured. ‘And now we have fire. But I need a pot to heat the water.’ She picked up the reindeer hide and ran it through her fingers. It would have to do. She could use one of the leather thongs to lash it to a wooden frame; there were plenty of rocks in the river to use to heat the water; and they could share the boy’s cup.
Kaija grabbed her water flask and crawled out of the cave, eager now to put her plans into action.
Morning mist covered the riverbanks, and the slippery ground was treacherous. Kaija picked her way carefully across the stones to a small pool. During the night, a cover of ice had formed over the surface. She broke it into shards before splashing her face with the bracing water. Smooth round pebbles, a full water flask, an assortment of tangled driftwood, and she was ready to return to the cave.
The boy was still sleeping when she returned, but his sleep was disturbed and his forehead creased with pain. He called out names of people Kaija didn’t know – mother and father, she recognised, but he also called other names like Niko and Taavo. He was especially anxious about Niko. Kaija wondered if his camp had suffered the sickness as well, which would explain why he was alone in the forest with such unusual cargo.
She cut a thin leather strip and a larger circular shape from the reindeer hide, and using her flint knife, she poked small holes around the edge. Then, with a sharpened stick, she pushed the leather thong through the holes, lashing the hide to a frame of driftwood. Kaija filled it with water from her flask and suspended it above the fire, careful not to let the bottom of the pot get too close to the flames.
While she was busy making her pot, she placed the rounded river stones in the fire and let them heat. She slipped one of her mittens back on. Using a stick to drag a heated rock from the fire, she picked it up and dumped it into the water. The water hissed and steam rose as the heat from the rock passed to the water. Then another rock heated the water a little bit more . . . and another . . .
Soon the water was hot, and Kaija tossed a handful of willowbark and camomile into it. The scent was familiar, and comforting. She shook the boy’s shoulder, waking him enough to take some small sips of tea. It seemed to comfort him, too, because he slept more soundly then, and when Kaija placed her hand against his forehead, he felt cooler.
Maybe I am a healer, Kaija thought, smoothing the furs around her patient. I hope I make a better healer than I do a hunter or tracker. Boar Clan were far ahead of her now, and the thought saddened her.
Luuka, I’m sorry. But you know I can’t leave . . . not yet. She looked down at her patient. He’ll die if I leave now. Maybe he’ll wake soon, and then I can try and follow you.
But the boy slept all day and into the night. Kaija kept waking him, giving him sips of the tea whenever he became restless. His fever came and went, and seemed to grow worse towards nightfall.
‘It’s so dark,’ he cried out once, sitting up abruptly and hitting his head on the rocky roof of the cave. ‘I don’t want to die!’ His eyes were like pools of misery in a pale, pinched face, and he shouted deliriously.
‘Shh . . . you won’t die,’ Kaija murmured. She tried to place one of the buckskin strips on his forehead. She had soaked it in sweet-smelling camomile, but he fought with her as she tried to calm him and wouldn’t lie still. His body was bathed in sweat, and Kaija feared the illness which raged inside him was too great for her to heal. When his flailing arms knocked the pot of tea over the fire, quenching the flames, Kaija screamed at him and crouched in a corner of the cave, sobs shaking her body. She was beyond exhaustion.
But sometime in the early hours of the morning, the boy’s fever broke.
As the first light of dawn crept into the cave, Tarin opened blurry eyes and looked about him. He was puzzled, first by the cave, and then by the girl sleeping next to him. Tousled hair covered her face – hair so fair it was almost white. Did he dream of her once? He felt he had seen her before. She looked cold, lying there on the floor of the cave. Tarin took his fox furs and spread them over her, tucking them around her feet. She murmured in her sleep.
‘Retu?’ Her voice was puzzled . . . groggy. She opened her eyes and stared unseeing in front of her.
‘Shhh . . .’ Tarin murmured. ‘Sleep now.’ He watched as the girl closed her eyes and her breathing slowed. Then he, too, closed his eyes and slept.
Kaija woke the next morning to a world renewed. In a last show of strength before winter took hold, the sun beat down with unseasonable warmth. Kaija stretched her arms above her head as she came out of the cave and looked around in pleasure. The autumn forest shone burnished gold and red, and high above, clouds scurried frantically across a blue sky.
Today – she promised herself as she broke through a sheet of ice to reach the water beneath – today, she would continue her quest to find her brother. She sat back on her heels and watched the sparkling water cascade over the rocks. But she couldn’t stay idle for long. She needed to build a new fire, heat some water for tea, maybe she could even cook something . . . Kaija jumped to her feet, feeling full of energy, and hurried back to the cave.
The boy was still sleeping, but his sleep was peacefu
l and he was free of the fever that had ravaged him. Careful not to disturb him, Kaija picked up the pile of clothing that lay in a tangled bundle at his feet. She spread the damp coats and furs over rocks and branches to dry. Their boots, too, needed drying, and she carefully spread the inner lining of felted wool in a patch of sunlight. She studied the boy’s clothes as she laid them out.
They were similar to her own, but plainer. Feathers, shells and beads covered Kaija’s tunic, but his was bare of any decoration: tunic and leggings of soft buckskin laced together with sinew; outer trousers of fur, flapped over in front and tied with a drawstring; boots made of thick hide, also worn laced and tied over the legs; a rabbit-skin jerkin; an outer wrapping of reindeer; an inner hood of wolverine; and the heavy, hooded beaska. Kaija stroked the coarse brown fur thoughtfully.
‘Mammoth!’ she whispered, recognising the thick, wiry fur. She glanced across to the mouth of the cave where the boy lay sleeping. ‘Either your clan has traded well with the Mammutti, or you’re a long way from home.’
She left the clothes to air while she moved her cooking fire outside the cave. Soon, a pot of broth was simmering. The smell was tantalising, and her mouth watered at the thought of food, but Kaija satisfied herself with a small strip of dried meat. She would wait for the boy to wake, then they would both share the broth.
As Kaija sat and munched the meat, she took further stock of her surroundings. The cliff opposite her rose steeply towards the sky, but through the trees she thought she could make out a rocky path. She frowned in concentration and her gaze followed the path back down to the river. But then where did it go? The river was flowing too fast to afford a safe crossing. She narrowed her eyes and scanned the opposite bank. A faint break in the tree line followed the river upstream.
Kaija glanced towards the cave, and then at her cooking pot. The boy was still sleeping and her broth was already cooked. She moved the pot away from the fire and decided to explore upstream. It had been close on dark when she first came to the river, and then the snow and the boy had stopped her going any further. If there was a path . . . Kaija gasped aloud as a thrill surged through her veins. She hurried onwards. If there was a path, then there would be a camp. And if a camp was close by, it could be Boar Clan.
She started to shake in excitement, missed her footing amongst the rocks and fell, scraping her knee. The pain made her slow down and tread more carefully.
But if it was a Boar Clan path, then how did they get across the river? Kaija’s clan used rafts made of alder trees to cross the river near her home. But there, the water was wide and slow. She had also seen the dugout boats used by the Second Cave of River Clan. They would fell full-grown trees and dig the centre from the wood. But the water here was white, warning of hidden rocks and great danger.
Kaija rounded the bend in the river, and found the answer to her question.
Sometime recently, a huge pine tree had lost its grip on the rocky cliff and fallen across the gorge, its great expanse reaching to the far shore. The water still surged beneath it, but the tree formed a perfect bridge from one side of the river to the other. Boar Clan simply had to cut the branches from the trunk to cross the river easily and extend their territory.
The tree trunk was slippery, but Kaija was sure-footed. She reached the other side of the river and followed the narrow rocky path as it wound upwards. The drop to the river was precarious, and Kaija pressed herself against the rock wall. Far below her, she could hear the rush of water. At the top of the cliff she paused, and caught her breath at the beauty before her. The forest canopy was an undulating sea of deep green and autumn splendour. Far below, the river boiled, squeezed on both sides by sheer granite. From where she was, Kaija had a clear view of her camp – her cooking fire and the clothes left to dry. She suddenly felt very vulnerable.
Her gaze followed the course of the river downstream. Here, the cliffs softened, the narrow chasm opening out to rolling hills. The river widened, the white water calmed, and still the forest stretched endlessly to the distant horizon.
A thin plume of smoke near a bend in the river caught her attention. Kaija narrowed her eyes, shielding them from the sun. People were camped down there! She stepped back into the cover of the trees. If she could see them, then they could see her, standing out on the edge of the cliff. She watched the plume of smoke, and gradually more detail became clear – small huts by the side of the river and people moving. How close she had been! Imagine if they had seen her own fire’s smoke. Kaija clutched her pendant and closed her eyes.
‘Spirit of Horse, and Spirit of Snow, I thank you for keeping us safe and hidden while the boy was ill.’ She paused and opened her eyes. ‘But now I ask for more help – that I can get closer to the camp without being seen.’
Slowly, Kaija edged down the path towards the camp. She was too far away to tell if it was Boar Clan, but in her heart, she felt that it was. She set her feet carefully, so no stray rock would give her away, and she paused periodically to watch the movements around the camp. But no alarm was raised, and no angry hunters came rushing towards her.
Once she reached the bottom of the cliff path, she moved more quickly. The deep carpet of fallen leaves muffled the sound of her feet, and she leapt nimbly over fallen tree trunks and mossy boulders. A small clearing on a rise above the camp gave her a perfect vantage point. She swung herself up into the boughs of a massive pine tree, scratching her arms and legs on the rough bark, and studied the scene below.
Half a dozen huts clustered on a flat terrace above the river. They were circular, made from a large central wooden pole and covered with hides. A pair of boar tusks hung above each doorway. Kaija caught her breath. She had found Boar Camp! She was so excited, she leaned forward, nearly falling out of her tree.
A leather flap covering the doorway of the largest hut flung open, and Kaija shrank back into the leaves. The tall man that stood there, stretching his arms and scratching his belly, was one of the hunters who had chased her and Luuka. She was sure of it. She watched him swagger towards a small lean-to made of twisted branches and speak to the two men standing either side of it.
Guards! Kaija chewed her lip in agitation. Surely that was where they were holding Luuka – and that meant he was still alive! She gripped the branch of her tree so hard the rough pine bark stabbed her skin. Her first impulse was to rush forward, but she forced herself to sit still and watch.
The hunter was laughing with the guards. He dropped his trousers and relieved himself on the side of the hut as the guards dragged their prisoner from it.
‘Luuka!’ Her brother’s name escaped her lips, and Kaija had to clench her teeth together to stop from crying out. He was alive, but bloodied and pale. His two guards threw him to the ground and he lay there, unmoving. The guards picked him up by the ankles and dragged him down to the river.
Kaija crouched, ready to spring to her brother’s rescue if they tried to drown him, but the men just dunked his head into the water and dragged him back towards the central cooking fire, still laughing. They threw him in the mud near a girl tending a cooking pot. She shuffled away from him and wiped her nose with the back of her sleeve. An older woman shouted at the laughing men and waved them away. She cuffed the girl around the ear and squatted before Luuka.
She brushed tangled hair off his face and held his chin. She spooned liquid into his mouth, but it made him choke and cough. Most of the liquid ran out of his mouth and down his chest. Kaija had seen enough. She sat back in the branches and wiped her eyes savagely. She had been unaware of the tears flowing down her cheeks.
She had to rescue her brother, but she had to have a plan. Maybe when it’s dark, she thought. She could slip into the camp and release him. But in his weakened condition, how could he run? And how could she get him out of his prison? Kaija leaned her head against her knees. She needed help.
She thought of the boy back at the beach camp. There was no one else. And she wouldn’t give in. While Luuka was alive, there was hope.
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She raised her head and studied the camp again, noting every hut, planning for her return. The girl had finished her cooking and was now rinsing her pots down by the river. A couple of coracles, small boats made of willow and animal hide, bobbed on the river. Nets made of twisted hair hung drying on posts. A row of short, squat spears lay unfinished by the fire.
Kaija nodded thoughtfully, climbed down from her tree and made her way back over the cliff, plans whirling in her head.
Tarin opened one bleary eye and looked around. The cave was small, hardly more than a hole, but it felt familiar. Grey rock walls, low ceiling. He looked thoughtfully at the remains of a small fire pit. The ashes were grey and cold.
He pulled at the fur around his shoulders and tried to sit up. His mother’s snow leopard skin. There were things here that didn’t make sense, but when he tried to think, the walls of the cave blurred and wavered. He lay down again and waited for his head to stop spinning.
Memories crowded him – chaotic, jumbled images.
Niko, pale and cold . . . lifeless. Tarin frowned, unsure of what he had seen and what he had dreamed. Had there truly been a man wading towards Niko, gathering him in his arms and throwing him over his shoulder?
And then the pain. Was that also just a dream? The ice-breath of Mother Winter that froze his heart and turned the blood in his veins to frost as he was tumbled like a river stone in the embrace of a raging current.
But then she’d come – the Earth Mother. Her hair the colour of snow, her eyes the colour of sky. She’d given him warmth, and he’d cried out as the fire returned to his body, chasing the frost and melting the ice in his veins.