by Jo Sandhu
Yorv crawled forward and whispered to Tarin and Luuka, ‘Stay here. Make fire.’ He passed them branches of freshly cut pine and a hollow deer antler. A glowing coal wrapped in lichen was tucked inside. ‘Bison move this way. Wave torch.’
The boys nodded. Tarin swallowed hard, his throat dry. He glanced at Luuka, and was almost glad he looked worried, too.
Luuka must have felt Tarin’s glance, because he turned to him and gave a wobbly smile.
‘They look big.’
Tarin nodded. His gaze travelled over the huge, shaggy heads and massive shoulders. A restless bull stamped the ground and expelled a blast of air. It steamed in the crisp air. He shook his head from side to side and the sun shone off his large, white horns. Tarin felt his stomach churn, and hoped he wouldn’t be sick.
‘Have . . . have you hunted before, Luuka?’ Tarin kept his eyes on the bison.
Luuka pulled his hair out of his eyes and tied a leather thong around it. ‘Nothing like this.’ He rubbed his nose thoughtfully. ‘We hunt beavers, deer, sometimes elk, and birds like wood grouse and snow hens.’ He paused and frowned. ‘I don’t really like hunting.’
Tarin turned to stare at him. Luuka shrugged impatiently.
‘Is that so wrong?’
‘No . . . not wrong. I’m just . . . surprised.’ Tarin studied the bison again, and spoke slowly. ‘All my life I’ve wanted nothing more than to hunt. But I couldn’t. I can’t imagine being able to hunt and not wanting to.’
Luuka shrugged, his eyes on the horizon. ‘And all my life I’ve been expected to hunt, and yet . . .’ His voice trailed away and he sighed. ‘I like watching the animals. I see the way they move, the plants they eat. I can tell which way a herd will run, just by studying the lead animals. My clan knows this. They want me to tell them where to hunt, and what to do.’ He pulled at a tussock of grass at his feet and the frown on his face deepened. ‘The first hunt I went on . . . we were hunting horses with the Fourth Cave of the River Clan. It was a large herd, and we stampeded them off a cliff.’ He paused again and took a deep breath. His lips pressed together and his hand clasped the pendant around his neck. ‘I can still remember the screaming noise they made . . . They didn’t die immediately. They lay on the ground, with rolling eyes and broken bones, until the hunters came and speared them through the necks. The hunt was successful. Both clans had plenty of food, but the whole time I felt as though I was betraying my totem. I ask Spirit of Horse to protect me, and then I do that. It’s not right.’ He shrugged. He glanced at Tarin, then dropped his gaze to the tussock of grass again. ‘Kaija understands . . . but no one else does.’
Tarin stroked the deer antler. The bone felt smooth beneath his hands. ‘I understand,’ he said quietly. He imagined how he’d feel if he ever injured Owl. It made him feel sick. ‘Old Father, our Spirit Keeper, is very wise. He says the Earth Mother allows us to hunt, but in return, we must thank Her, and honour the spirit of the animal that has given us its life.’
Luuka nodded. ‘I know, but that doesn’t mean I have to enjoy it.’
The boys fell silent.
‘I like fishing,’ Luuka said, a smile breaking through the serious look on his face. ‘I like going out on the rafts, and making the nets. Kaija hates the rafts. She keeps falling in the river, but I think I could live on a raft. And there’s a spot upriver that only I know about. I fish there a lot, just sitting under this big willow tree that’s half falling in the water. I catch trout and grayling, and I watch the otters.’ He glanced at Tarin and grinned. ‘That’s why I don’t tell anyone about it. They’d want to catch the otters. But I love watching them swim and dive.’ He fingered the pendant around his neck and his eyes turned serious again. ‘I think my totem should have been Otter. Horse suits Kaija better . . . not me.’
The moment was broken as Yeb crawled over to them, nodding encouragement. ‘Take spear,’ he said. ‘May need.’
Tarin was sure he looked green as he wrapped his hand around the spear. Luuka was pale, too, but the boys just nodded their thanks.
Suddenly Yeb tensed. He was watching Worj, whose attention was focused on a young cow that had straggled away from the herd. The cow was ignoring the lead bull’s attempts to keep his herd together, and was investigating a crop of hay off their trail.
Worj waited, and the clan held their breaths. The cow raised her head and looked toward the herd, but then turned back to the hay. She took another few steps away from the others. It was the moment Worj had been waiting for. He dropped his arm in a signal for the hunters, and they quickly spread out to encircle the stray cow.
Tarin’s hand shook as he held the bone with the ember.
‘Not yet,’ Luuka whispered. ‘She will panic if she smells fire.’
Worj watched his hunters position themselves, keeping a wary eye on the cow. Then when all the hunters were in a circle, he signalled again. The hunters leapt out of the grass, shouting and waving their arms. The startled herd whirled around, stamping and pushing. The stray cow realised her danger and tried to move back toward the main herd, but Yorv and Narn leapt in front of her, heading her off.
‘Now!’ said Luuka.
Tarin dropped the ember onto the bed of dried tinder at his feet and quickly blew it to a flame. He glanced up and saw Yorv pounding after the cow, who was frantically trying to reach her herd. She wheeled away, and tried another direction, but Narn was there to head her off. He waved his arms and shouted at her. The cow rolled her eyes and bellowed.
The rest of the herd milled around, stamping their feet and jostling each other in panic. The cow tried to make another break, heading toward Tarin and Luuka, but they had their torches ready.
Tarin had no time to think. He leapt out in front of the beast with a blood-curdling cry and waved the flame in her face. For one heart-stopping moment, he looked into her wild eyes. Foam flecked her mouth and she tossed her great head, flicking it over him. She tried to turn, but another flaming torch barred her way.
Worj shouted and leapt forward. Gradually, the circle of hunters drew closer around the cow. Now was the time to start running after her – keeping her within the circle, forcing her to run one way then the other, robbing her of her energy. The main herd was in full stampede, thundering across the grasslands, leaving the solitary cow to her fate. She wheeled around, frantically searching for escape. Iva took over from Worj, his strong, muscular legs pounding after the beast. As Iva tired, Yeb and Roba took over, bearing down on her with a fresh burst of speed. The cow was tiring, but she wasn’t spent yet.
Narn took a turn. He wasn’t as fast as the others, but he had great stamina. He pushed the cow hard. When Vana took over, the cow tried to slow, but Vana jabbed her flanks with her spear. The cow bellowed and found a reserve of strength. She turned blindly, no longer able to see where she was going.
Worj joined Vana, assessing the strength of the cow. If they didn’t drain the last bit of energy from the cow, she could turn at a crucial moment and impale one of the hunters. He darted forward, prodding the great beast with his spear.
Druba took over from Worj. Her legs were shorter, but she was muscular and fast and drove the bison hard. Its chest was heaving as Narn stepped forward for another run.
The cow was nearly spent. Tarin could see the sweat glistening on her sides as she drew closer. Narn pricked her with his spear and she whipped her huge head around, searching for him. He danced out of the way, but as he did his foot came down on a loose rock and he fell. The bison’s eyesight was poor, but she saw the fallen man and summoned the last of her strength. With a mighty bellow, she charged toward Narn as he lay helpless on the ground.
The hunters drew back their spears, fear in their eyes and dread in their hearts. They knew that by the time the beast succumbed to the spears, Narn would already be dead. Aba screamed and Worj tried to distract the charging cow. He waved his arms and shouted, but the cow was focused on Narn.
Narn froze, unsure which way he should roll to escape the thundering ho
oves and lowered horns.
Tarin didn’t stop to think. He saw his friend helpless on the ground. The shouts and screams of the hunters blurred together in a wave of sound, and he found himself leaping in front of the charging bison, the burning torch clasped firmly in his grip. He opened his mouth and screamed.
‘Hei! Hei! Hei!’
He waved the torch in front of the bison and she turned her massive head. Small black eyes focused on him, and with a snort of fury, the bison charged toward him.
Tarin dived to the side, and the huge beast thundered past him. In that split second, he could almost feel her rage. He hit the dirt hard, and tasted blood in his mouth. The wind rushed from his lungs. He rolled over, quickly looking for the bison, expecting to feel her hooves crush the remaining air from his body at any moment.
But Luuka had followed his lead. As the bison charged past Tarin, Luuka waved his own torch and she headed toward him. Then Aba also grabbed a torch. She slashed the air in front of the cow, and it halted, confused by the burning lights, and at the limits of her strength. She stood with her head down, almost brushing the ground. Foam fell from her mouth and her flanks twitched. Of her herd, there was no sign except the trampled ground and a cloud of dust in the distance.
Worj stepped forward before the cow could regain her strength, and plunged his spear into her neck. The cow bellowed and blood spurted from her wound. She twisted her head, trying to gore her attacker, but Iva stepped forward and drove his own spear deep into the beast. Vana followed and then Aba.
Tarin felt sick as he watched the cow fall to the ground, her legs kicking the air. Through a haze, he realised Yorv was handing him a spear and pushing him forward. He stood before the mighty, fallen beast, and stared into her fading eyes.
This was the way of his world, Tarin told himself. He closed his eyes briefly, sending thanks to the Earth Mother and Spirit of Bison, then he drew his arm back and plunged the spear into the stricken animal. Her struggles ceased, her eyes went dim.
Tarin took a step back as the hunters rushed forward to begin the butchering process. He felt his head spin, and spat blood from his mouth. He turned into a stand of long grass, and bent over, retching. Wave after wave of nausea squeezed his stomach.
What kind of a hunter was he who was sick at his first kill? Taavo and Miika would be jubilant – waving their spears in the air and eating the liver. He rubbed his sweaty face with his hands and forced himself to stand. His legs were shaking so much he thought he was going to fall.
The grass parted and Worj was before him. He laughed when he saw Tarin, but not unkindly. He slapped the boy on the back and passed him a flask of water. Tarin washed his mouth out and took a sip.
‘Thank you,’ he said, then repeated the words in Worj’s language.
Worj took a draft from the flask as well. He wrinkled his face and concentrated on his words.
‘Yarin good hunter. Yarin sick. Worj sick. First time. Aurochs. Big horns. Worj look at big horns. Sick. Not yet spear. Sick already.’ He laughed at himself.
Tarin looked at Worj in amazement. ‘You were sick before throwing your spear?’ A small smile flickered over his face. He looked down at his hands and tunic, covered in blood and sweat. The musky animal scent of the bison clung to him.
With a shock, he realised it was over. He had hunted, and he had made his first kill. If he were home in Mammoth Clan, he would be strutting around the camp and preparing for his Manhood ceremony.
‘Yarin!’ Narn shouted, as he and Aba hurried over. ‘Yarin save Narn.’ They both gripped Tarin’s shoulder hard and patted his back.
‘Aba first baby. Name Yarin,’ said Aba. She smiled as Luuka joined them. ‘Second baby name Luuja.’
‘Yarin and Luuja are good names,’ Luuka said with a laugh. Then his eyes turned serious and he looked at Tarin. ‘How do you feel?’
Tarin couldn’t speak. If he tried, he felt that all the emotion churning around inside him would spill over. Narn and Aba hurried away to help the other hunters bleed and gut the bison and Tarin’s gaze followed them as they went. This was the way they always hunted, he realised. Always, they would place themselves in danger so the clan could eat. He shook his head in amazement.
‘Worj’s hunters are very brave,’ he said to the clan leader. ‘They don’t . . . fear.’
Worj looked down at him thoughtfully. ‘Yarin fear?’
Tarin hesitated. He wanted Worj’s respect, but he didn’t want to lie to the older man. Slowly, he nodded. ‘Yes. The bison . . . she was so . . . big.’ His words felt inadequate, but Worj nodded his understanding. ‘I wish I was as brave as your hunters, but . . . I don’t have the courage. I think I will always fear,’ Tarin said in a low voice.
Worj frowned and rubbed his beard. ‘Courage not no fear. Courage . . .’ and he thumped his chest ‘. . . fear but still you hunt.’ He looked at Tarin earnestly. ‘Worj no have words . . .’ He turned to Luuka and shrugged.
‘I think what Worj means is . . . true courage is when you fear, but you still hunt, or you still try to save someone.’
Worj nodded. He beamed at the boys and slapped them both on the back. ‘Yarin and Luuja, brave hunters.’
A knot of worry untied itself in Tarin’s heart.
And he smiled as he joined the other hunters.
Kaija wasn’t happy. Ruva had refused to let her go on the hunt, even though her shoulder no longer hurt.
‘Throw spear. Maybe bleed more. Stupid girl,’ Ruva had said.
So instead she had waved the hunters off with Novi and Uva and the others remaining at the cave. But she had been restless all day.
A walk with Uva and her children to the stream distracted her for a while. The wolf pups went, too, bounding ahead through the snow and snapping at any leaves that still clung grimly to the Winter-bare branches. A few late lingonberries clustered on a low-growing bush were a surprise treat. Their tart sweetness was a special favourite of Uva’s, and the girls laughed in guilty pleasure.
When they reached the stream, Kaija and Uva filled the water flasks, while the two children, Mohv and Ela, romped with the wolves. Kaija found herself comparing their very different lives. Uva was barely nineteen, and already the mother of two children. And as the hearth-mate of the clan leader, she held a senior position in the clan.
‘Yaiya no have mate?’ Uva asked, unknowingly following Kaija’s stream of thought.
‘No. Not yet.’ Kaija shook her head quickly. ‘In my clan, River Clan, we don’t look for a hearth-mate until we’re older.’
Uva nodded and tossed a stick into the stream. ‘Have hearth-mate good. When children in belly, Uva no hunt. Too slow. Worj say, share my fire, he hunt for meat for Uva and children. Worj good hearth-mate to Uva.’
Kaija followed the progress of the stick down the stream, and threw another in to chase it. She frowned, trying to remember her own mother’s hearth-mate, but he had left River Clan many years ago and his face was a blur. She had a vague memory of a tall man, with blue eyes, who would pick her up and carry her on his shoulders. Kaija shook her head to dispel the memories.
‘Maybe one day,’ she murmured.
‘Maybe Yarin?’
‘No.’ Kaija spoke quickly and felt her face turn red. She picked up a stick and jabbed it savagely at a crusting of ice around the rock she was sitting on. ‘Tarin good friend to Kaija.’ She scratched her nose and watched the shard of ice break away and float downstream. ‘And he has his own clan to return to.’
‘Yaiya home River Clan?’
‘It used to be.’ Kaija frowned. She hadn’t really thought about it, but now she realised – she and Luuka didn’t have a clan to return to. They could always seek shelter with one of the other caves of the River Clan, or with another clan close by, but would they be welcome? ‘My clan was sick. All die.’ The words caught in her throat and she tossed the stick away.
‘All die?’
Kaija heard the sympathy in Uva’
s voice and looked up at her. Uva’s soft brown eyes glistened with tears. ‘Poor Yaiya.’
Kaija’s breath caught in her throat, and suddenly, she was crying.
Uva put her arms around her and patted her on the back. ‘Poor Yaiya,’ she crooned softly, rocking the weeping girl. The pups and the children stopped their game to stare at them.
Ruva joined them, tired of waiting for them to return with the water flasks. She looked at Kaija with eyes dark and wise.
‘Why clan die?’
Kaija sniffed. ‘They were sick.’
‘How sick?’ Ruva waved her hands, trying to communicate. ‘How look. How smell.’
‘Oh.’ Kaija nodded her understanding. She sat back on her heels and gathered her thoughts. She picked up another twig and twirled it in her hands. ‘At first, it seemed like nothing . . .’ Her thoughts turned inwards, remembering that terrible time.
Help us, healer . . . why won’t you help us . . .
‘Some people had sore throats, some had red eyes. Some were hot, some were cold.’ She frowned as the memories returned. ‘My mother tried all the usual things – willowbark and yarrow and elecampane. Then the sores started, on their bodies and in their mouths . . . and the breathing . . . So hard to breathe . . .’ Kaija covered her face and drew a deep shuddering breath. ‘That’s when she tried the horsetail, both as tea and as a wash, but nothing worked. Still they died.’
Ruva took her hand and held it gently. ‘Neck big?’ Her other hand patted her throat.
‘Yes!’ Kaija blinked back her tears. ‘They were swollen and sore to touch.’
‘Ahh,’ Ruva murmured. Her own eyes glazed over, searching for the memory. ‘Head hurt like rock inside. No air . . .’ She pounded her chest. ‘Water. Cannot breathe water.’
‘Yes.’ Kaija’s voice was rough with tears and desperate hope. ‘You . . . you know this illness.’
Ruva stayed silent. She rocked back and forth on her heels, crooning softly to herself. Kaija held her breath and watched her.
‘Once . . . Ruva see. Ruva young, baby in belly.’ She continued crooning. The girls glanced at each other, reluctant to break her concentration. ‘Make broth of bones, reindeer, bison, rabbit, all bones . . . boil, boil, boil many days. Black wood from fire, drink.’ Ruva looked at Kaija sharply. ‘Come,’ she said, and Kaija followed her back to the cave.