by Jo Sandhu
‘Are you ready?’ Kaija asked.
Tarin swallowed and nodded. He knew he looked pale because Kaija looked at him sharply. ‘I’m ready,’ he said. He was surprised by how firm his voice sounded.
Tarin was the first to wade out into the glacial water. It took his breath away.
‘You can do it,’ he whispered to himself, setting his eyes on the opposite shore. This river wasn’t as wide, or as turbulent as the one he crossed with Niko, but it was deep and cold. He clamped his jaw shut and waded out further. A large chunk of ice, washed from upriver, bobbed past him. He took a deep breath and pushed out into the deeper water.
Already his arms felt heavy as he reached through the water. He kicked his legs and veered diagonally to the opposite bank. Beside him, Kaija churned through the water with clean, strong strokes. She’d said River Clan children learned to swim almost before they could walk.
Tarin turned his head to look for Luuka, and received a mouthful of water. He coughed and clamped his mouth shut. Narn was in the water, but Luuka was still on the shore, trying to convince the wolves to dive in. Nilkka entered the water and paddled furiously, but Rohk whimpered and ran up and down the rocky beach. Tarin lifted his head and whistled. Rohk picked up his ears and yelped. Then he leapt into the water and paddled toward him.
Tarin’s legs felt numb, but he clenched his teeth and kept kicking. The opposite shore was slowly drawing closer. Kaija had already reached safety and she called to him, urging him on. With a mighty effort, Tarin drove his arms through the water. His feet scraped against rocks, then his knees. He crawled up onto the shore and lay on his back, panting. Next to him, Nilkka padded out of the water and shook herself. Luuka and Rokh were close behind.
‘C . . . can you make a fire?’ Kaija’s teeth chattered so much she struggled to speak.
Tarin glanced at the sky.
‘We have another hour of light left,’ he said. ‘We should push on further. Walking will warm us up,’ he added, as Kaija chewed her lip and looked undecided.
‘All right,’ she said finally. ‘One hour, then we make camp.’ Luuka and Narn nodded in agreement.
‘Agreed,’ Tarin said. He resettled his pack and started to move away from the water’s edge. Suddenly the ground beneath his feet dissolved and Tarin felt himself sinking. He tried to lift one leg, but that only made his other leg sink further. ‘Stay still,’ Luuka called. ‘It’s a bog. If you struggle, you’ll sink faster.’
‘Then what do I do?’ Tarin felt the panic like a tight band around his chest. The mud was now up to his thighs – he was sinking quickly.
‘Narn has rope,’ Narn said. He threw Tarin a thick cord of twisted bison hair. ‘Yarin tie around waist. Narn and Luuja pull Yarin out.’
‘You’d better hurry,’ Tarin called. He felt the mud slide over his hips. He caught the rope on the first toss and wrapped it around his chest. He grasped hold of it. The coarse hair felt rough.
Spirit of Owl . . . help me fly . . . Spirit of Horse . . . give Luuka strength. He wasn’t sure who to invoke for Narn, then he remembered them running as Wolf through the forest the first night they had met and again after the reindeer hunt. He sent a plea to Spirit of Wolf and hoped they would be able to free him. The mud sucked hungrily at his waist.
‘Hold on!’ Luuka yelled. He dug his feet into the ground and wrapped the rope around his hands. He and Narn braced themselves and pulled. Rohk and Nilkka jumped around them, yelping. Kaija grabbed Luuka around the waist and pulled as well.
Slowly, Tarin felt the mud relinquish its hold. It slid over his hips and thighs and, with a sucking sound, his legs pulled free. Luuka and Narn kept pulling on the rope until Tarin was lying safe on firm ground. He was covered in mud. Luuka’s and Narn’s hands were burned by the rope. But they were safe.
‘Maybe we’ll make camp here,’ Tarin said faintly. Daylight was fading rapidly, and in the dark they might blunder into any number of bogs and sinkholes. He lay on his back, catching his breath, and staring up into the trees. His eyes focused on something glowing white. He raised himself onto his elbow and looked closer.
‘What do you think that is?’ he asked.
The others followed his gaze. Lodged in the fork of the tree was the skull of a huge bear. The empty eye sockets stared at Tarin.
‘I think it was to warn about the bog,’ Kaija said.
‘Very helpful,’ Tarin muttered. He staggered to his feet.
‘I think it’s a bear’s skull,’ Luuka said, reaching for the bones. Narn grabbed his arm and shook his head.
‘Not good touch. Not good say name. Say karhu. Honey eater.’
‘Do we have to camp right here?’ Kaija asked, shivering. ‘I don’t like those empty eyes staring at me.’
‘Karhu good,’ said Narn. ‘Give luck. Give protection.’
‘All right,’ said Kaija, sighing. ‘I think we can use some luck and protection.’
As night fell, they made their camp. The days were longer now, and would continue to grow longer until darkness only covered the earth for a short time each night. Then slowly, the earth would turn once more. The days would shorten, the warm Summer sun would wane, and the green leaves and grasses of Summer would turn red, brown and yellow. Ice would once again freeze the streams and cover the land, and the animals would return to their burrows, or migrate to their Winter grounds.
‘I’ll tell you a story,’ Luuka said. His voice was dreamy, his eyes half-closed. His hand stroked Rohk’s soft fur. The wolf sighed and closed his eyes.
‘Hmm?’ Tarin murmured. He scratched Nilkka behind the ears and rested against her so he could hear her heart beat. The crackling fire and the rushing water were the only sounds in the forest.
Luuka continued, his voice low like a murmuring stream. ‘It’s the story of a people, far to the east, who call themselves the Karvkh. The Karvkh worship the bear above all other animals.’ Rohk stirred and whined. ‘Even above wolves, I’m sorry, Rohk,’ Luuka said.
‘How do you know?’ Tarin asked. He sipped a cup of mayweed tea, enjoying the warmth.
‘I talk to the traders,’ Luuka said. ‘I listen to their tales.’ He paused to sip his tea, too.
‘The Karvkh hold a special Bear Festival. Every five years, they capture a young cave bear cub. They pamper it and feed it the choicest food. Then during the Bear Festival they sacrifice it, to give them luck.’ His voice fell silent. A log cracked on the fire, shooting sparks into the blackness.
‘Not so lucky for the bear,’ Tarin murmured.
Luuka shrugged. ‘The Karvkh say they love the bear cub. They say that for all its short life, it has been pampered and looked after. Is it wrong, then, to send it to the Spirit World with honour and love?’
‘Is that what you think?’ Tarin asked.
Luuka put his cup down and settled more comfortably. Rokh turned and licked his nose.
‘No, that is what the Karvkh think,’ he said. ‘But tell me, is it so different from us hunting? An animal still dies.’
‘It is different,’ Tarin said, staring into the flames. ‘We hunt because we must eat. We honour the Mother by killing only what we need to survive.’
‘Different people. Different beliefs,’ Luuka said. ‘That is what I learn from the traders. But that story I actually heard from my mother. A trader came to River Clan one day. He was dressed differently – like no one I had ever seen before. He wore clothes made from fish skins, and a wrap of white fox. My mother talked to him a long time. I heard her ask about the Karvkh. She said she was just curious when I questioned her about it, but I think it was more than that.’
‘What do you mean, Luuka?’ Kaija’s voice sounded sharp in the darkness. She rolled over and Tarin saw the firelight reflected in her eyes.
Her brother shrugged. His hands stilled, resting in the thick fur around Rohk’s neck. ‘I just found it strange that our mother would lie to me.’
Kaija snorted. ‘Maybe she just thought you asked too many questions.’
‘Narn once see cave bear,’ Narn said. ‘Bear even bigger than two men. Maybe bigger than three men.’
Tarin shivered. He thought of his father facing one of the giant beasts, and living to tell the tale. It was hard to believe. He pressed his ear against Nilkka’s chest and smiled. Then again – who would believe he travelled with two wolves, and at night slept cuddled next to them.
The wide grasslands changed to rocky scrubland and sparse forests of hornbeam and hazel. The land rose.
Kaija squinted against the sun and looked toward the snow-capped mountains. Ice Bringer rose higher than the rest. As they grew closer, she could make out cliffs of sheer rock and shadowed ravines.
Alpine forest flowed down the mountainside to meet them, and Kaija kept alert for squirrels and pine martens. A movement through the trees drew her attention – a solitary reindeer, battle-scarred and thin. It took a hesitant step, then lowered its head to nibble on some lichen.
‘What do you think?’ Luuka’s voice was a low murmur.
‘I think it’s old . . . and sick. That’s why it dropped behind the herd.’ Kaija shifted carefully. They were downwind of the reindeer, but strange or sudden noises would be enough to spook the animal. It took another step and shook its head, trying to dislodge the cluster of flies around its eyes.
‘Meat bad,’ Narn whispered.
‘But maybe it’ll do for the wolves.’ Kaija looked around. ‘Where are they, anyway?’ ‘Gone to look for their own dinner,’ Tarin said. ‘They’re not interested in your diseased reindeer.’
‘He’s not my reindeer, and maybe he’s just old.’ Kaija frowned.
‘Reindeer sick.’ Narn scraped a strand of greenish saliva off a rock and showed them. ‘Small biting insect make meat bad. Eat meat make sick. Breath like water.’
Kaija was so intent on looking for the wolves, she nearly missed what Narn said.
‘What do you mean? Breath like water?’ Her skin prickled.
‘Ruva say, water here.’ Narn pounded his chest. ‘Not air. Cannot breathe. Sound like this.’ And he made a horrible rasping sound.
Kaija gripped Luuka’s hand. ‘And the sick reindeer causes this? Luuka, don’t you see? That could be what happened at River Clan!’
Luuka nodded slowly. ‘The sick reindeer – we traded for reindeer meat. Maybe, Kaija, but how could so much sickness be caused by bad meat? Have you heard of that, Tarin?’
Tarin shook his head. ‘No, but let’s leave it in case.’ He started to back away, but was halted by a low, rumbling snarl. The hairs on the back of Kaija’s neck rose as Tarin turned, gripping his spear thrower.
The cave lion had been stalking the dying reindeer as well, but now turned its attention to fresher meat. It had the advantage of size, speed and weaponry. Even as Tarin brought his spear thrower around, Kaija knew he had little chance of success.
The lion was high above them, camouflaged by the tawny rocks. Darker stripes along its back helped it blend into the forest cover. It roared, the sound reverberating through the forest. Kaija felt it like a vibration deep inside.
The wolves snarled and ran forward and Luuka yelled.
Tarin cast his spear as the lion leapt, but he had no room to manoeuvre and the spear fell harmlessly to the ground. He put his arm up to protect his face as the cave lion raked its deadly claws across him, shredding his tunic. Large, white teeth lowered toward his throat . . .
‘Get away! Get away!’ Kaija screamed madly as she rushed forward. She picked up Tarin’s fallen spear and used it like a club, swinging wildly. With a snarl, the huge lion turned on her. It lunged forward, but at the same time Kaija thrust the spear upwards, toward the lion’s throat. Momentum carried the lion forward, and the flint spearhead drove deep. Kaija twisted as the lion continued to fall, ripping its throat open. The animal collapsed to the ground, barely missing her.
It was over in seconds.
Kaija knelt by the beast, breathing hard. With wild eyes and nostrils flared, she clutched hold of the spear. Tarin scrambled to his feet. Blood coursed down his arm and dripped to the ground. Luuka and Narn stood in shock, their spears half-raised. The wolves sniffed at the fallen body, still snarling deep in their throats.
‘You . . . you saved my life,’ Tarin said. ‘Again.’ His voice sounded shaky. He leaned against a rock, gasping for breath.
Kaija licked dry lips and turned as white as snow. The smell of the animal’s blood made her stomach churn. She gripped the spear even tighter and started to shake.
Luuka leaped forward and put an arm around his sister. ‘It’s over. Kaija, you can let go of the spear.’
She felt a sob rising in her throat. Luuka prised her fingers from the spear shaft and sat her down, her back against a rock. Narn put a warm fur around her shoulders. She glanced at the fallen cave lion and shuddered.
‘Lucky small lion,’ said Narn, shaking his head.
‘That monster is small?’ Luuka’s face paled. He prodded it with his foot.
‘A young male,’ said Tarin, fingering his torn tunic in wonder. ‘Probably cast out of the pride by the lead male. Usually it’s the lioness who hunts, and in a group.’
Luuka suddenly noticed Tarin’s arm. ‘You’re hurt.’
Tarin looked at his arm in surprise. Deep gashes ran from his elbow to his wrist.
‘He’ll need a wash of bear’s claw and comfrey to stop the bleeding and any infection,’ said Kaija. ‘Cave lion scratches infect easily.’
‘And what about you?’ Luuka looked at her in concern.
‘I’m fine.’ Kaija pushed herself to her feet, felt her stomach convulse again as her gaze fell on the lion’s carcass, and staggered into the forest to throw up.
‘Make us all some golden flower tea, Narn,’ Tarin said. ‘I think Ruva packed a small packet.’
Narn prepared a fire and set a pot of water to heat.
‘We should skin the lion,’ Luuka said. He bathed Tarin’s arm and wrapped a soft, rabbit-skin bandage around it.
‘I don’t want it,’ Kaija said, returning to their camp. She washed her mouth out with water from her flask. ‘I don’t want to even look at it.’
‘Then at least take the claws and teeth,’ Luuka said.
‘Not for me,’ Kaija said. ‘Narn? Do you want them?’
Narn nodded happily. ‘Give to Yoben.’
‘Fine.’ Kaija nodded. ‘They’re yours.’
Narn passed her a cup of tea and looked at her with serious eyes. ‘Narn give one tooth Aba. Yaiya keep one tooth. Remember Yaiya brave. Kill cave lion alone.’
Luuka and Narn removed the cave lion’s claws and teeth, then dragged the carcass further into the forest. Soon, the dead animal would attract the carrion eaters – cave hyenas, wolverines and wolves. The travellers had no wish to face any more predators that day. Luuka cut a chunk of meat for Rohk and Nilkka before they continued through the forest.
‘We were lucky,’ Luuka said. ‘We let down our guard. If that lion had had company, we could all have been killed.’
They made camp that night by a small rivulet, just as the light was fading. The temperature had dropped as they drew closer to the mountains. Snow still lay in shaded pockets. No one felt like hunting, so Narn made a broth of dried bison and cracked grains of millet and einkorn. A handful of currants finished their simple meal.
Tarin cupped his hands beneath a trickle of water, where the rivulet dripped over mossy rocks. It was icy cold. He filled his flask and splashed his face and neck. His arm felt hot and itchy. His leg ached where he had twisted to escape the cave lion. And his head pounded. Eventually, he fell into an uneasy sleep, disturbed by vivid images of falling rocks and long, dark passages.
He was underground. His skin felt clammy, and he wiped the sheen of sweat from his face. The walls of the cave were slick with moisture. He could hear it drip in the distance, echoing off the rocks. A mist rose around him, cutting him off from h
is companions. He tried to call for them, but his voice stuck in his throat. A great weight pressed down on his chest. He couldn’t breathe. He felt the earth tremble, and smelled something rotten.
Tarin woke in fright. An owl, roosting in the pine tree above his head, took off into the night in a flurry of snow-coloured wings. For a moment, feeling the heavy weight still pressing on him, he thought his dream had followed him, but then he realised Rohk was lying on his chest. He pushed him aside, and suddenly he could breathe easier.
‘What was that?’ Kaija sat up, searching the dark forest. Her eyes were large and luminous in the flickering firelight.
‘What was what?’
She looked at Tarin, blinking to bring him into focus. She shook her head.
‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘I just thought . . . I thought I felt . . .’ She frowned and glanced around again. ‘I must have been dreaming.’ She lay back down, pulling her fur cover up to her chin. She closed her eyes, and soon her breathing told Tarin she slept. He settled his own furs more comfortably. Across the fire, Luuka and Narn were snoring gently, Nilkka curled between them.
Tarin sniffed the air, but could smell nothing rotten. Just the scent of the forest – pine and juniper. He was reluctant to close his eyes. Reluctant to fall once more into the dreams that filled his mind with such horrifying images.
But there had been something different about this dream. He tried to pinpoint what it was. He had dreamed before of the cave, and the feeling of walking downwards . . . always downwards . . . and the rocks pressing against him. But he had never before felt the earth shake.
That was it, he thought. That’s what was different. Tarin sat up, no longer feeling weary. He rested his chin on his knees and stared into the glowing flames. He picked up another branch and added it to the fire, a shower of sparks rising into the blackness.
He had never before had that feeling of the earth moving beneath his feet, and now that he thought about it, he wasn’t even sure he had dreamt it. Tarin touched the owl pendant around his neck briefly.