The Exile

by Jo Sandhu

  ‘That sounds so nice.’

  ‘Don’t the forest clans have a Summer camp?’ Tarin asked, surprised. The Mammutti clans moved where the hunting was best – north in summer to hunt the mammoths, then returning south in autumn, in time to gather the fruits, nuts and berries of the forests, and harvest the rich grains, barley and rye from the plains. They fished the rivers for salmon, trout and grayling. Food was dried, frozen under rock caches, and stored in holes dug deep into the ground.

  ‘The Metsamaa? Possibly. I’m not sure.’ She yawned again and closed her eyes. She could no longer feel the throbbing in her shoulders. ‘I think some do, but River Clan prefers to keep to itself.’ She lapsed into silence, then murmured, ‘Tell me more.’

  She held Luuka’s hand to her cheek. His skin was rough and warm. She breathed in his scent. She could no longer keep her eyes open and Tarin’s voice was fading softly away.

  If I don’t wake, Luuka, don’t mourn for me. I’ll be with Retu, and Mara. Kaija breathed deeply, and slipped into a deep, deep sleep.

  Tarin’s story continued.

  ‘Last year we travelled to White Fox camp, far to the north. And the year before that, it was Musk Ox camp. It took us nearly a moon cycle just to reach there. If I don’t make it to the mountains by Winter, I’m to stay with Musk Ox Clan . . .’ His voice faded.

  He wasn’t going to reach the mountain by winter. It was already winter, and he was further away than when he started. And what was left of the Offering anyway? One cave bear tooth, an amber bead, and a flint blade.

  And the beads? Kaija hadn’t told him about the beads yet, but Tarin could guess. She’d traded them for Broda’s help. He might have done the same thing. That must have been what she was trying to tell him before. He listened to Kaija’s breathing. It was slow and regular.

  ‘I think she’s asleep,’ Luuka whispered. ‘Kaija?’

  He rubbed the back of her hand, but it sat loosely in his grasp. Slowly, Tarin reached for the blade.

  It was heavy in his hands, and cold to touch. Tarin admired the delicate shape and tapered edge. It was one of the finest, sharpest blades Jarkko had ever made. Tarin remembered him choosing the flint so carefully, and sitting cross-legged by the fire, chipping and shaping the stone, little by little. He could still see him turning the stone in his hands, examining it critically, removing another tiny sliver, until he was finally satisfied. Then he handed it to Tarin, placing it into his care, as a mother would surrender her child – proudly, fearfully.

  It was a blade fit for the Earth Mother, but now, it would no longer be hers. It would be Kaija’s blade. Twice, Kaija had rescued him – once from the river, and then again from Boar Clan. Twice, he owed her his life. He tightened his grip on the knife and felt the blade bite into his skin.

  ‘Mother, what if I fail?’

  The cry rose in his throat. He wished his mother was there with him, to tell him what to do. He clasped his pendant to stop his hands from trembling and sent a silent plea to Owl to steady his hand and give courage to his heart. And to Wolf, that strange new protector that had helped him face the Spirits and chase the darkness away.

  Kaija stirred in her sleep, and Tarin knew they could delay no longer.

  Luuka unwound the bandage and his hand shook as her tunic stuck to the ugly wound. He pulled it free, and she began to bleed again.

  ‘The blood will wash away some of the evil Spirits,’ Tarin said. He probed the area around the wound and wiped away the blood.

  ‘Can you feel it?’ Luuka asked.

  Tarin shook his head. ‘It will be small . . .’

  A wolf pup whimpered. Tarin lowered the flint blade to Kaija’s shoulder, and pressed, drawing a line across her skin. Blood welled beneath the blade and Luuka wiped it away with the remains of the fox furs.

  Kaija moaned, the pain reaching her even in her sleep. Tarin thought he might have to cut further, but then he felt a hardness in her flesh that shouldn’t be there. He used the tip of the flint knife to prise the jagged spike of bone from the wound. It glistened with blood.

  ‘So small,’ Luuka murmured. ‘It is all the evil Spirits needed to take her Spirit.’ He shuddered and dropped the bone to the ground.

  Kaija’s shoulder was still bleeding. Tarin bathed the wound with the horsetail wash and bandaged it firmly with a strip of leather. He thought the colour in her face looked better, and she breathed more easily.

  ‘You did a good job, Tarin,’ Luuka said. ‘Better than I could have done.’

  Tarin released a shuddering breath and looked down at his blood-stained hands. Kaija’s blood. ‘I need to wash,’ he said, and retraced his steps to the river. Streaks of pink light now coloured the sky. The river water was icy as Tarin splashed it over his face and neck.

  ‘I did it,’ he thought in surprise. He had removed the splinter of bone that was festering in Kaija’s shoulder. He had cleaned and bound the wound. He took a long drink of water and stared at the river as it flowed past. But more than that, he thought, he had faced the Spirits, all by himself. No, not all by himself, he amended. He had Owl and Wolf with him.

  He splashed his face once more and returned to the fire. One of the pups opened a sleepy eye, then sighed deeply and slept again. Luuka raised an eyebrow at him and handed him a fresh cup of mayweed tea.

  ‘This was the last of your herbs. Even I know what mayweed smells like.’

  They drank in silence as the light grew around them.

  ‘Is this the last of your Offering? I’m sorry,’ Luuka said.

  Tarin swallowed his tea. It tasted good. ‘I have an amber bead from Ilmi and a cave bear tooth.’ A wolf pup came looking for food and Tarin pulled it into his lap, stroking its fur. It felt warm and alive. ‘I will still go to the Mountain, Luuka,’ he said. ‘I owe Mammoth Clan that much.’ He stared up at the sky as the last stars twinkled faintly. ‘Kaija said she would guide me.’

  Luuka paused digging at the fire and looked up. ‘Kaija said that?’

  Tarin nodded. ‘When we first met. She said if I helped her rescue you, she would guide me to the Mountain.’ Tarin held the cup out to Luuka to share and grinned. ‘I would have helped her anyway. Eventually.’

  Luuka nodded but remained silent.

  ‘You should sleep some more,’ Tarin said. ‘Your arm will heal faster if you sleep.’

  ‘Later,’ Luuka said. He scratched the other wolf pup who had come looking for food. ‘No food now,’ he said. ‘When Kaija wakes, we’ll move further downriver. Perhaps today we can fish. Would you like some fish?’ The pup sneezed and went back to sleep. ‘Tarin, I should tell you . . . when you were with the Spirits . . .’ He stopped and scratched his chin. ‘You sat there, and hardly breathed, and it didn’t seem very long, but maybe I slept off and didn’t realise . . .’ He paused again and held out his injured arm. ‘But I felt my pain ease. I’m sure of it. The fire in my arm faded and I know the wounds will heal. You saved us both. Thank you.’

  ‘Thank Spirit of Wolf,’ said Tarin. ‘Wolf chased away the evil Spirits and showed me how to heal Kaija. I told you that you were now marked by Wolf.’

  Luuka smiled. ‘Then that’s what we’ll call ourselves. We need a new name for our new clan. We need to journey together, you, me, Kaija and the pups.’

  Tarin nodded slowly. ‘A new name for a new clan.’

  He thought of his Mammutti family, so far away. How he wished he could tell Aila he was still alive. And Tuuli and Saara. Even Kalle would be proud of him. And Taavo? Taavo wouldn’t believe that his weak little brother had survived so many dangers. He imagined sitting by the fire pit, telling his tales to Saara, her eyes growing bigger and rounder. And Old Father – he wanted to tell Valo he had walked in the Spirit World, and that Valo was wrong about so many things.

  So many things to tell. So many stories.

  But the mammoths were far away, and he would never see them again. A lump settled in his chest and made it hurt. The pup in his lap stirred and sighed. Tarin stroked
it, and in the gentle touch of his hands they both found comfort. Kaija was sleeping soundly now, a deep, healing sleep. The shadow had lifted from her wounds. Luuka was staring at the fire and his eyelids were drooping. Soon he would sleep, and that would be best for him. Tarin would watch over them all as they slept.

  This is my clan now.

  The thought gave him hope.

  All of us hurt and injured. All of us grieving and scared. But somehow together, we have become a clan. We have escaped from Boar Clan, and we are still alive.

  Tarin’s fingers melted into the wolf’s soft fur.

  We are now Wolf Clan.

  Above him, an owl winged silently homewards. He followed its flight until he could see it no longer.

  And Owl still protects me, he thought. Owl will always protect me. As Spirit Keeper of this new clan, I ask that Owl protects us wherever we may journey. For us, this Clan of Wolves, the journey has only just begun.

  The setting of this novel is 30,000 years ago, when ice covered all of modern-day Scandinavia, but I have used the forests and tundra of Lapland as my inspiration for Tarin’s home. Mammoth Clan and River Clan all have Finnish names and are pronounced with a soft ‘j’, so Kaija becomes ‘Kaiya’ and Jarkko becomes ‘Yarkko.’

  Saami are the traditional Lapland people, spreading across northern Finland, Sweden and Norway. Following are some Finnish and Saami words used in this book:

  + Kaamos – a Finnish word relating to polar night. It refers to the months between December and January, when the sun doesn’t rise at all. There is gentle light from about 1000 hours to 1400 hours and twilight is long. This word is still in use today.

  + Mammutti – Finnish for ‘mammoth’.

  + Haamu – Finnish for ‘ghost’.

  + Beaska – a Saami word for a traditional reindeer skin coat. Tarin’s beaska is actually made of mammoth fur (an author’s creative licence).

  + Tundar – a Saami word for ‘tundra’.

  + Baybaka – a Saami word for ‘marmot’ or ‘suslik’.

  + Giron – a Saami word for ‘rock ptarmigan’.

  + Pettu – the layer between bark and wood in the pine, elm or aspen tree. It needs to be mixed with something to be palatable, but it’s a source of food in lean times, even today.

  + Nilkka – from the Finnish for ‘sock’ because of the dark band around her foot.

  + Rohkea – Finnish for ‘brave’.

  + Metsamaa – from the Finnish metsa (forest) and maa (land).

  + Esi – from the Saami Esi-isa (ancestor).

  + Mustara – a made-up herb. From the Finnish musta (black). Mustara literally translates as a short version of ‘black bird’ (mustarastas).

  + Mammoth, Saiga, Bison, Musk Ox, White Fox, Wolf, Elk, Reindeer, Cave Lion, Aurochs.

  + River (1st Cave, 2nd Cave), Boar, Deer, Lynx, Raven, Cave Bear, Otter, Beaver.

  I owe my thanks to many people within the Australian writing community, but I would like to pay tribute to a special few who have inspired me, taught me, wiped my tears, and sometimes screamed at me during the evolution of Tarin of the Mammoths.

  First, Dr Kim Wilkins. It was during her ‘Year of the Novel’ course at Queensland Writers Centre that I wrote the earliest version of Tarin’s story. Her generosity of spirit and her enthusiasm for the craft of writing inspires me every day.

  I also extend my thanks to Marele Day.  I was ­fortunate enough to win a mentorship with Marele through the Northern Rivers Writers Centre, and another version of Tarin was honed and polished.

  For her friendship and warmth, Dr Kate Forsyth. We meet only rarely, but I learn something new and wonderful each time we talk.

  Thanks also to my dear friend, Tina M Clark, for your support, your encouragement and your wise words. Not only has Tina been a true friend over the years, but she is the driving force behind the CYA Later Alligator Conference held each year in Brisbane. It was entirely due to this conference that I first made contact with Penguin Random House and had the opportunity of submitting my manuscript to them.

  Enormous thanks go to my editor, Katrina Lehman, for your infinite patience and finding the magic buried within my story.

  To Nicole Cody, for showing me a way through the shadows, much love and gratitude.

  To the members of SCBWI, the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators – what a fabulous bunch of people you are!

  And finally, I come to my husband, Sarj, and my boys, Chris and Alex. I am truly blessed to have you in my life and am filled with gratitude every day that you have chosen to walk with me on my journey. My life is richer because you are here, and it is to you that I dedicate this book.

  Growing up, Jo Sandhu was sure she was going to be a Shakespearean actress or a pianist, and gained her Associate Diploma in Speech and Drama. However, on leaving school she spent a year in Finland as a Rotary Exchange Student before returning to Australia and working in banking and HR. These days she is a writer, a personal carer, and ­volunteers at her sons’ sporting clubs.

  Her short stories have been highly commended in numerous competitions, including the FAW Mary Grant Bruce Award for Children’s Literature, and the CYA Later Alligator Competition (Brisbane) in both the Children’s and YA sections. She is a member of Queensland Writers Centre and the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators.

  Jo currently lives in the Tweed Valley in Northern NSW with her family, and enjoys cooking, travelling and reading.

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  First published by Penguin Random House Australia Pty Ltd, 2017

  Text copyright © Jo Sandhu, 2017

  The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  Cover and text design by Bruno Herfst © Penguin Random House Australia Pty Ltd

  Cover illustration © Kim Van Deun, 2017

  www.penguin.com.au

  ISBN: 978-1-76014-314-5

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