by Jo Sandhu
Lorv smiled, a wide, happy, toothless smile.
Luuka sat silent, overwhelmed by the old man’s gift. Then his hand closed around it.
And he embraced the old man.
The day they left Worj’s Clan was cold and blustery. Yorv tried to talk them out of going, but now that Tarin knew they were so close, he was eager to push on. Narn was to travel with them, at least until they reached the foothills. He would then turn west and travel to Yoben’s Clan, taking with him reindeer skins and ropes of bison hair to trade, as well as news of the spear thrower. His return journey would take him close to Boar Clan territory, and Narn also hoped to confirm Tarin’s vision of the fallen tree bridge. Tarin, Kaija, Luuka and the wolves would continue toward Ice Bringer.
‘Four, maybe five days’ journey. Reach river.’ Worj scratched a map into the mud. ‘One river. Two river. Past big rock look like Iva’s nose.’
Tarin glanced up, happening to catch Iva in profile. He grinned.
Worj looked up at the sky and frowned. Grey clouds were building to the north, hiding Ice Bringer’s broken tip. ‘Water come soon.’ Worj scratched his beard. ‘Maybe start journey tomorrow.’
Tarin shook his head. He spoke haltingly.
Worj nodded and thumped Tarin on the back. The rest of the clan also made their farewells.
Tarin felt a lump stick in his throat. In some ways, this farewell was even harder than leaving Mammoth Clan. he said, stumbling over the words.
Yorv smiled and gripped Tarin’s hand. He still limped, but no longer needed the stick to walk. ‘Yorv hope see Yarin, too. But maybe not.’
‘Maybe not,’ Tarin murmured, as they hoisted their packs onto their backs and set off toward the stream and the forest beyond. He paused by the stream. He had started his journey from Mammoth Clan in exactly the same way. It had been Autumn when he left his home. Now, Spring was nearly gone. It seemed a lifetime ago. And he had been a different person. He remembered how the rocks had wobbled beneath his feet, and how scared he had felt. Just like a skinny rabbit.
But now he was a hunter. He straightened his shoulders and looked back toward the cave, where Worj’s Clan still stood to farewell them. He raised his arm once, then turned and followed Luuka and Narn across the stream.
Kaija walked beside him. Tears ran down her cheeks and she brushed them away savagely with her sleeve. Rohk and Nilkka ran ahead, flushing small rodents and startling birds.
‘They’re good people.’ Kaija’s voice sounded gruff.
Tarin nodded, but didn’t speak. He thought if he did, the lump in his throat would burst. He put his head down and stared at the path beneath his feet. It was muddy and slick with moss. Rivulets of water dripped from the rocks. He pushed aside lush ferns and dripping beard-moss, and smelled the fresh scent of pine. Pale green beech leaves brushed against his face.
They took their first break near a stand of black alder trees. Tarin remembered another time standing in the same place, the first streaks of dawn lighting the sky. In the frigid air, his breath had turned to vapour. The snow glistened and crunched beneath his boots. His leg had ached, and his heart, too. Then Worj had given him a spear to hold, and everything had changed. That was his first hunt.
‘Do you want a drink?’ Kaija crouched by a small pool of crystal water, drinking deeply. ‘The water is good here. We can save our flasks for later.’
Tarin nodded and cupped his hands under the icy stream. He splashed his face and rubbed the back of his neck. The walking had made him warm.
As the day wore on, the forest thinned. Pine and larch gave way to oak, maple and linden. Thickets of hazel and blackberry snagged their hair and clothes. Kaija examined a stand of blackberry carefully for the sweet fruits, but it was too early in the season. She sadly passed by. The sky darkened. Black clouds swirled overhead and the wind whipped their hair. The first fat rain drops fell. The group of travellers paused on the top of the rise that looked out over the steppes.
‘I think we should make camp here,’ Kaija said. ‘At least we have some shelter from the trees.’
Tarin scratched his nose and looked back the way they had come. The deep green forest covered the hills behind them like a blanket. He tried to trace their journey, to retrace their steps back to the cave, but the trees were too thick. He thought he could make out the row of tall pines and fir that led upwards to the high meadow, but he wasn’t sure. Each tree and each rolling hill looked the same now. The forest had swallowed all sign of their path.
He turned his attention to the plains. Wind whipped the lush growth of feather-grass, bending it horizontal. A rocky stream was bordered by scraggly, twisted buckthorn. ‘We haven’t come very far yet,’ Tarin said. He was reluctant to stop.
‘Come on, Kaija. What’s a little rain?’ Luuka raised his face to the clouds and licked the moisture from his lips. ‘Rohk and Nilkka agree with me.’
The wolves were already racing ahead, their lean muscles rippling as they ran.
‘Follow stream. Find bairak,’ said Narn.
Tarin shook his head. ‘Find what?’
‘Narn no know word . . .’ Narn tried to show them with his hands. ‘Steep sides in rock. Give shelter.’
‘A ravine? A gully?’ Luuka asked.
‘Ah! Gul-ly.’ Narn nodded, pleased.
They scrambled down the hillside after the wolves and made their way toward the stream. The wolves jumped from one grey rock to another, and Luuka joined them.
‘Narn! Are there any fish in this stream?’ Luuka shouted, his voice whipped by the wind. He picked up a rock and threw it far upstream, laughing as Rohk raced after it.
‘Not here. Downstream find trout.’
Tarin stumbled on a rock and bit his lip. So far, his leg hadn’t ached at all, but he was worried about Narn’s gully. He breathed in deeply. The open plains were more familiar to him than the forests. He felt at home tramping through the tufts of fescue and fringed sagebrush. He plucked a sage leaf and crushed it between his fingers, breathing in the heady camphor smell. A few brittle twigs he tucked into his belt to be used as firewood later. Nilkka yelped in surprise as she flushed a long-tailed jerboa from a stand of feather grass. It bounded away.
‘Kaija, keep your sling handy.’ Tarin patted the spear thrower hooked into his belt. Fresh meat would supplement the strips of dried bison and reindeer in their packs.
Toward mid-afternoon, the rain fell heavier.
It ran off their hoods and pooled on the ground. The wolves stopped running ahead and trotted forlornly beside the travellers. A gust of icy wind whipped the rain into Tarin’s eyes. He rubbed his face and blinked, straining to see ahead. He leaned into the wind and forced his legs to move faster.
‘Gul-ly!’ Narn called. Tarin lifted his head to see where he was pointing. The ground dropped away abruptly. Kaija and the wolves were already scrambling down the rocky sides, followed by Luuka. Tarin paused on the edge. It was steep, but not too deep – more like a scar on the landscape than a gully. The wind drove icy needles into his face and he hurriedly scrambled downwards. The wind ceased abruptly as the rock walls rose around him. An overhang of rock gave them shelter and a place to build a fire. As night fell, they huddled together against the rocky walls, staring at the falling rain.
The travellers awoke to a clear day. The wolves were the first awake, bounding out of the gully in search of a plump rabbit or marmot for breakfast. The travellers contented themselves with a cup of nettle tea and a strip of dried reindeer.
‘Today we’ll hunt for fr
esh meat,’ said Tarin. He still remembered the hunger he felt on his first journey – an experience he wasn’t keen to repeat. He gazed upwards, following the flight of a windhover, but it was too high to bring down with either spear or sling.
For a time, they followed the course of the stream, before it turned southwards. They crossed it easily, leaping from rock to rock like the wolves. Tarin felt strong. His leg felt strong. His spirits rose.
The next stream was wider, and the travellers removed their foot coverings and rolled up their leggings to wade through the icy water. Spring was merging into early Summer, but in a land that was covered in ice for most of the year, the cold was never far away. The land they were passing through was carpeted with yellow flowers of sweet vernal, clover and bedstraw. Tarin plucked a handful of clover and munched it thoughtfully as he stared toward the mountains.
‘We lost time yesterday,’ he said. ‘And the mountains seem no closer.’
‘I can’t hunt anything with these wolves running around.’ Kaija scowled at Rohk and Nilkka. The exuberant wolves had startled a brown hare she was tracking. ‘Luuka, can’t you call them or something?’
Luuka and Narn were striding ahead. He raised a hand to show he had heard her, then put his fingers in his mouth and whistled long and loud. The wolves stopped chasing each other and raced toward him.
Kaija was about to tuck her sling back into her belt when she suddenly froze, her eyes riveted on a clump of fescue grass. Tarin opened his mouth to speak, but she waved him to silence. She ran her sling through her hand to find the ends and fitted a rounded stone into the leather. Then, her eyes never wavering, she spun the sling around and let the stone fly. With its loud, hoarse cry, a snow bird rose into the air, but the stone found its mark and the bird fell to the ground.
‘Good shot,’ Tarin exclaimed, as Kaija hurried forward to claim her prize. But before she could reach the bird, Rohk bounded forward and clamped his jaws around the feathered body.
‘Rohk, drop that!’ Kaija faced the wolf sternly. Rohk lowered his ears and growled.
‘Rohk!’ Kaija growled back. She took a step toward the wolf.
‘Kaija, what are you doing?’ Luuka said. ‘You can’t take food from a wolf. Let him have it.’ ‘But it’s my bird,’ Kaija said. Before any of the others could react, she stepped toward Rohk and grabbed him by the muzzle. ‘Bad boy,’ she said. ‘Drop that!’ She hit him gently on the nose and forced his mouth open. The wolf resisted only a moment, then dropped the bird at her feet. He shook his head and dropped onto his belly, whimpering.
‘How did you do that?’ Luuka asked. He looked pale.
Kaija snorted in irritation. She dusted off the bird and examined it for damage. Its Winter white plumage was already turning Summer brown.
‘But you’ve told me yourself, Luuka. Wolves are pack animals. They’ll obey whoever is the leader of the pack.’ She slung the bird over her shoulder and smiled at her companions as she walked away. ‘And I’m the leader.’
For two days they travelled the steppes, passing through rich grassland. They passed herds of bison, elk and saiga antelope, huge red-brown aurochs and dun-coloured horses. They stood in awe as a herd of mighty mammoths lumbered by.
‘Narn never see mammuthus,’ Narn sighed, his gaze following the huge animals until they were out of sight.
‘That’s what your clan hunts?’ Kaija whispered. She, Luuka and Narn stared at Tarin in awe. ‘I never realised they were so large.’
‘Yarin people very brave,’ said Narn.
Tarin drew a deep breath. The scent of the animals was so familiar that for one moment he imagined he was home again, cowering on the ground in front of the old mammoth as she reached out to touch him. How his life had changed since that day!
‘It is how we live,’ Tarin said. ‘It is how we survive.’ He touched the spear thrower and nodded. One day, he would return home and show his clan a new, safer way to hunt. Perhaps then, his father would be proud of him.
Reluctantly, they didn’t hunt any of the large animals. They had no time to dry the meat, or cure the hides, and it would be an insult to the Great Mother to kill one of Her creatures and waste so much. Instead, they contented themselves with the plentiful susliks, rabbits and jerboas.
‘I’d like to try for one of those antelopes,’ Tarin said. With a sharpened stick he dug around a cluster of white flowers, down to the wild carrot below. He pulled up the small, yellow root and added it to a basket already filled with clover, nettles and early crowberries.
He paused to stretch his back and looked out over the grasslands. A sharp wind tangled his hair. If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine he was tramping across the steppes near Mammoth Clan. He heard a shrill, piercing cry overhead and shaded his eyes against the sun. A kite hovered above, tracking its prey in the grass below.
‘Marmot,’ Kaija murmured, barely moving her lips. She pulled her sling from her belt. But the marmot realised its danger and dived back into its subterranean burrow before she could fit the stone.
‘We could try to dig it out,’ Tarin suggested.
Kaija shook her head. ‘There will be other chances.’ She went to return her sling to her belt, then hesitated. ‘Have you ever tried a sling, Tarin? Or do you prefer the spear?’
Tarin grinned and rubbed his nose. ‘Before Worj’s Clan, I didn’t hunt. With anything.’ He took the leather strap from Kaija and ran it through his fingers. The soft buckskin was smooth and stretched from use.
‘Try it.’ Kaija handed him a round stone.
Tarin fitted the stone into the centre of the sling, and held the ends together as he had seen Kaija do.
‘Now spin it. Fast. Then let go of one end.’
He whirled the sling around, trying to imitate Kaija’s movements, but he let go of both ends and the stone and sling fell a short distance from him.
‘Not so easy,’ he mumbled.
Kaija laughed and ran to retrieve it.
‘You could do it, with practice. I’ve used the sling since I was a small child.’ She looked for Luuka and Narn, who were far ahead. ‘I’ll teach you, if you like. If you’ll teach me how to use the spear thrower.’
Tarin nodded. His hand rested on the wooden thrower tucked into his belt. Yorv had carved the shape of a bison onto it, and he traced the carving with his fingers. He remembered Taavo’s spear with the bison carving – the one that had shattered on the rocks during the mammoth hunt. Perhaps, if he ever returned to Mammoth Clan, he could make it up to his brother.
‘I was never a coward, you know.’ He pressed his lips together, recalling the scorn he experienced at the hands of Miika, Pia and the other children. Weakling coward they had called him.
‘I know.’ Kaija brushed her hair out of her eyes.
‘I was never allowed. They were all so sure I would fail.’ Tarin faced into the wind and closed his eyes. He breathed deeply.
‘Tarin, no one can equal you with the spear thrower. Now let’s hurry up and catch the others. Come on. I’ll race you!’
She thumped his shoulder and took off after Luuka and Narn, her fair hair flying behind her. The wolves saw her running and ran back toward her, leaping and yelping. Tarin grinned. His leg was so much stronger – stronger without Old Mother’s healing, he thought wryly. But he would always be a slow runner. He started to trot, enjoying the way his blood warmed.
I was never afraid of hunting, his thoughts continued. I was afraid of the laughter . . . the ridicule . . .
But Kaija and Luuka and all of Worj’s Clan saw no limitations.
Maybe, the only limitations are the ones I place on myself.
The thought made Tarin pause. His pace slowed.
‘You will never know unless you try.’ That’s what his mother had told him.
Tarin stopped and looked toward the mountains. His journey had already taken him so far, and he had learned so much. He was no longer the scared, skinny rabbit who had been afraid to look his father in the eye.
‘Come on, Tarin. Slow one!’ Kaija shouted.
Tarin waved and started to jog again. Nilkka ran to him and jumped up to lick his face. He shouted in laughter. ‘Come on, girl. Let’s run.’ He pushed himself faster. His heart pounded. Nilkka ran with him, urging him on.
And as he ran down the hill toward the others, he felt truly free.
Water was plentiful. As the earth warmed and the ice melted, the steppes became a lattice of criss-crossing streams.
Towards late afternoon they came to a wide waterway that had split into a multitude of channels. The ground around the channels was springy and soft, and Tarin found himself ankle deep in frigid water more than once. Ground that seemed solid gave way beneath his feet, and tufts of grass and moss floated like islands on top of small rivulets.
Bird life became more plentiful. Both Narn and Kaija brought down a couple of geese and with the help of the wolves, Luuka found a nest of snow bird eggs.
‘If I was home,’ Tarin said, as he plucked the geese, ‘my sister would wrap the birds in grass and cook them in a pit-oven.’
Narn was busy spitting the other goose in preparation for roasting it over the fire. He grinned in appreciation and licked his lips. They had decided to eat the birds before crossing the river, to give them less to carry, and to give them the strength they would need. Some of the channels they could wade across, but the last channel was deep and wide. The travellers were going to have to swim.
In preparation for the crossing, each of them went through their packs and repacked everything. They tightened straps and belts, made sure the spears and spear throwers were secure, and re-tied boot and trouser lacings. Tarin studied the water, a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He remembered his river crossing with Niko. He had come so close to losing his life . . . and Niko. He still wasn’t sure what had happened to the younger boy. Did he survive the crossing and find Bison Clan? Did he return to Mammoth Clan, with stories of how Tarin had already failed in his quest?