Clan of Wolves

by Jo Sandhu

  ‘We’re trapped,’ Kaija gasped, and she and Luuka could only stare at each other in horror.

  Tarin huddled on the bridge, unable to move.

  The journey was never meant to be easy, little Owl.

  Tarin’s eyes flew open. He had dropped the torch and it was a short distance away. In the flickering shadows, he was sure he saw Old Father. He recognised the hunch of his shoulders, and the ceremonial deer antlers he wore upon his head.

  Spirit of Rock is strong in you . . .

  ‘But I’m not strong. I’m weak,’ Tarin wailed. His voice echoed off the rocks. The shadows loomed silently over him, watching. ‘I can’t do this.’

  Another tremor shook the cave. Rocks fell around him. Tarin cried out and put his hands over his head.

  I’m going to die here, deep under the ground. My mother will never know where my bones lie. My fire will never glow in the night sky. I will die, and Mammoth Clan and our small Wolf Clan will die also.

  A boulder crashed against another, and a sharp splinter of stone caught Tarin’s cheek. He felt the warm trickle of blood. He wiped it away and looked at his red-smeared hand, then he wiped the blood onto his other cheek.

  ‘But I’m also a hunter of Worj’s Clan.’ He reached for the torch and held it up. The shadows wavered and changed. The image of Old Father with his antlered headdress grew large. ‘I may die here, but until that happens, I will keep going.’ Tarin turned in a circle, watching the shadows change. ‘But I ask you, Ancient Spirit of Rock, and Spirit of Owl, Horse and Wolf, if I should die here, please protect my clan, and all those I love.’

  His voice caught in his throat as he thought of Kaija, Luuka and the wolves. Where were they? Were they lying hurt in the cave, or did they escape before the tremors hit? Tarin clenched his fists and took a deep breath.

  ‘If the Spirits would allow it, I would like to one day return to my family, but if that is not my journey, I would ask that the Spirits tell my family that I died happy. I died a hunter of Worj’s Clan. I made it to the mountain, and I found the Mother’s Cave. I made the Offering.’

  Tarin clasped his hands around the pouch, he raised his eyes to the silent shadows, then he stepped forward off the bridge of stone. He was so close, he could feel it in his bones. He couldn’t fail now. The ground trembled. Rocks fell. Behind him, the bridge cracked and tumbled into the darkness. Tarin heard a splash as the huge stones met the river far below. There was no return now, but his heart was strong and he continued onwards.

  Down, down he went, further into the earth, and in a moment of silence, as Rock rested and the mountain drew a deep, ancient breath, he heard the sound of falling water. The Mother’s Tears!

  A corridor opened before him and he held his torch high. The walls glistened and sparkled and when he reached to touch them, his fingers touched ice. The ice cave! And beyond that a shifting darkness that must be the underground lake.

  Tarin rushed forward, oblivious to scraped hands and bruised knees. He had done it! He had found the Mother’s Heart. He held his torch up high and his heart was full.

  But Rock was only resting. Again, the ground moved. The mountain groaned. The deep, dark lake swirled and churned, finding new weaknesses and ways within the rock. The falling tears became a torrent. Beneath Tarin’s feet the ground shifted, and suddenly, in a hail of rock, he was falling into the darkness, into the abyss below.

  ‘I think I see daylight.’ Luuka pointed to an upper corner where a faint ray of light broke through a chink in the rocks. ‘If we climb up those rocks, we can dig the hole bigger and squeeze out.’

  Kaija hugged her knees and shivered. ‘We have to find Tarin first.’

  Luuka scratched his chin hesitantly. ‘Kaija . . .’ he said gently.

  ‘No! Don’t say it.’ Kaija glared at him, her lips compressed.

  Luuka shook his head. ‘You have to be reasonable,’ he said. ‘Tarin may not have made it.’

  ‘He did. I know he did!’ Kaija jumped to her feet and rubbed her arms. Her teeth were chattering so hard she was finding it hard to speak. She staggered to the rock corridor, searching the blackness beyond. ‘Tarin?’ she called, but there was no answer. She hissed in frustration and turned to look at Luuka. He removed the soaked pouches from his back. He had lost a couple of spears, but he still had the thrower, and the firewood they had collected. The fir branch torches lay discarded where they had dropped them earlier.

  ‘Kaija, come and warm yourself while I light a torch. Then we’ll look for Tarin.’

  She nodded glumly, and pulled off her reindeer fur tunic, squeezing the water over the edge of the shelf.

  ‘More clothes to dry.’ She spread it over a rock and replaced it with the fur she had left to dry the previous day.

  ‘Thank the Mother we had that fire going.’

  Rohk sniffed around the entrance to the rock corridor and whined. He looked back towards them and gave a short, sharp yip.

  ‘I think he wants us to hurry up.’ Luuka handed one torch to Kaija and, holding the other high overhead, he led the way.

  The corridor had escaped the worst of the damage, and Kaija’s spirits rose. Even when they had to crawl on their hands and knees to scramble over fallen rocks in one of the chambers, she was still sure Tarin would be found safe. But when they reached the river chamber and found it impassable, she quailed. The entrance to the chamber was completely blocked. The smell of crushed rock irritated their nose and eyes. The wolves sniffed the new scents, and sneezed. Rohk sat back on his haunches and howled.

  ‘It’s no good.’ Luuka pushed against the fallen rock. ‘There’s no way through.’

  ‘Our packs are in there.’ Kaija stared at Luuka, seeing in his wide eyes and pale face a reflection of her own. ‘Our food, our furs! Luuka, what are we going to do?’ She pressed her back to the rock wall and slid to the ground. Her head dropped into her hands. Nilkka whimpered and tried to lick her face.

  ‘I have a knife.’ Luuka patted the pouch slung over his shoulder. ‘I have the spear thrower. We have firestones. We’ll be all right, Kaija.’ He knelt by Kaija and she felt his hand on her shoulder.

  ‘What about Tarin?’ Kaija raised her face. ‘He could be . . .’ She stopped. She couldn’t say the words hovering on her lips. Luuka pressed his lips together and studied the fallen rock. He shook his head and looked grim, but he didn’t speak.

  Rohk howled again, his call echoing through the cave. A sprinkling of dust fell from the ceiling. He pawed the fallen stones and ran back and forth, sniffing. Then he stopped and scratched in the dirt, raising more dust.

  ‘Stop it, Rohk.’ Luuka reached for the wolf. But Rohk slipped past him. He whined and ran around the chamber. Luuka shook his head. ‘We’re all upset, boy.’

  The wolf paused and tilted his head to one side, listening.

  Luuka ruffled his fur. ‘We should go before the torches burn out.’

  Kaija buried her face in Nilkka’s thick fur and breathed deeply, then she nodded and pushed herself to her feet. They turned to retrace their steps. Rohk barked sharply and pawed the ground.

  ‘He doesn’t want to leave,’ Kaija said, with a faint smile.

  The wolf barked again and ran to her, bouncing off her thigh with his front paws. She staggered and grabbed the wall for support. Rohk ran at Luuka and pushed him as well.

  ‘Come on, Rohk. We have to go.’ Luuka took a step toward him, but Rohk lowered his front paws and growled. Then he tilted his head again and yelped. He scrambled up the rocks, toward the top of the cave-in.

  ‘Rohk! Luuka, catch him,’ Kaija cried. Nilkka danced and whined as her brother climbed higher. Luuka climbed after him, but before he could reach the wolf, Rohk dropped to his stomach and squirmed into a small, dark cavity. The tip of his tail waved at them.

  ‘Rohk! Come back!’ Luuka grabbed for the waving tail, but he was too late.

  Rohk disappeared into the blackness.

  Tarin fell into the abyss, surrounded by falling rocks. The
lake had become a waterfall, plunging down toward a raging, underground river. He hit the water hard. His breath rushed from his body. The light from his torch extinguished, and he was plunged into blackness so complete, he couldn’t see his hand in front of his face.

  The river was fast, and icy cold. He opened his mouth to gasp, and water flooded his lungs. It closed over him, and he fought against it. His head pounded. His lungs screamed for air. He pushed himself up, and felt his head break the surface. He sucked in a mouthful of air before he was sinking again, the currents pulling him down.

  He felt his body squeezed through a narrow channel of rock. Over and over he tumbled, fighting for every breath. His head spun. Tiny lights swam before his eyes. Something snagged the pouch around his neck, and he hung there as the water seethed around him. Then he was once more swept away. His head collided with rock, and he tasted warm blood.

  This is where I shall die, Tarin thought. He had cheated the river once before, and this time, Spirit of Water would not be defeated. He closed his eyes, although in the darkness it made no difference.

  The current surged again, and Tarin was picked up and slammed against an unyielding wall of rock. He didn’t feel the bone in his arm break – he was too numb from the freezing water.

  The quality of the darkness changed. Tarin opened his eyes, and realised it was no longer absolute. He could see grey rock pressing down from above, and squeezing him on each side. The earth tremors had changed the river’s course. No longer able to flow out to the blue lake, it searched for a new way through the rock. In a gushing torrent, it burst from the mountainside. Bright light flooded Tarin’s eyes, and he was falling again.

  Hard-packed snow rose up to meet him. He landed with a thud, and slid down the icy slope, toward a shattered spruce tree. The wide branches caught the boy, scratching his face and arms, but saving him from the perilous drop over the cliff.

  Tarin lay stunned. His chest hurt to breathe. His ears roared. He stared upwards at the bright blue sky, and a bird hovering far above. He wondered if it was an owl, disturbed from its daytime rest by the violent earth tremors.

  The branches beneath him shifted, and he tried to pull himself into a more secure position. Pain shot through his arm, and he cried out, but Tarin knew he had to move away from the edge of the cliff. He clenched his teeth and held his injured arm close to his body. With his good arm, he pulled himself further up the slope, until he felt firmer snow beneath him.

  It was an unfamiliar landscape that confronted him. The avalanche had covered the meadow and uprooted trees. Tarin made his way to where the underground river carved a new stream down the side of the mountain. With each step, he sank to his knees in the soft top layer of snow. His clothes were soaking wet, and he started to shiver.

  He crouched by the side of the stream and pulled one mitten off to cup the icy water in his hand and drink deeply. He had lost his flask, and the pouch with his spare food and firestones. The spare torch and kindling had also washed away. Tarin’s head cleared. Memories returned in a rush. His hand flew to his chest, searching for the leather straps that hung around his neck, but his numb fingers found only one – his owl pendant. The pouch with the last of the Offering was gone!

  Tarin’s heart plummeted. Ice water filled his veins.

  He closed his eyes and images flashed through his mind – water surging, dragging him under, and forcing him through narrow channels and fissures, tumbling him over and over, slamming him against rock, water filling his lungs. He remembered the moment where he lay trapped, the leather thong around his neck caught by a jutting rock, his face turned to the water churning around him. He would have drowned then, but he thought he heard something. A sharp, insistent call. A clear, piercing music. Like the call of Lorv’s flute, echoing far below the earth. He raised his head, and as he did, the thong snapped and the water carried him away. And the pouch that held the Offering must have sunk to the bottom of the underground stream.

  Tarin inhaled, his body reminding him to breathe. He stared at the rushing water, but didn’t see it. The snow froze his exposed hand, but he didn’t heed it. His entire journey – countless days across endless grasslands and thick forests, braving rivers and mountains, battling snow and rain – everything that he had been through since leaving Mammoth Clan had been to no avail.

  He had made it to the mountain. He had stood at the entrance to the Mother’s Heart. He had heard her falling tears. But now there was no Offering to give.

  Tarin opened his mouth and wailed in anguish. He beat the snow with his fists, not caring about the pain that shot through his arm. He pushed himself to his feet, and kicked the stones and the water in rage.

  ‘Nothing!’ he shouted. He raised his ravaged face to the sky and screamed. ‘There is nothing left!’

  He sank to his knees and let the tears run down his cheeks.

  ‘Nothing.’ He lay down in the snow, by the side of the stream. ‘Spirit of Ice, take me away.’ He didn’t want to be saved anymore. He wanted to close his eyes, and fall into that cold, frozen sleep from which there was no awakening. ‘I was supposed to die, deep in the mountain,’ he moaned. ‘I was supposed to offer myself to the Earth Mother, so my clan could live. But now, I can’t even do that. She has rejected me.’

  Tarin pressed his face into the snow and felt it crust around his eyes and lips. Where his warm breath met the snow, it melted, only to refreeze as hard ice seconds later. His hand went to the pendant around his neck and he traced the carvings as he had done long ago, standing in the earth-lodge with his mother.

  ‘Spirit of Owl, take me with you, to fly forever in the blue sky.’

  He tugged at the leather thong, and it snapped. Tarin opened his eyes to look on the pendant once more, then he lay it carefully across a rock in the mountain stream. He watched the water lap the ragged ends of the thong.

  His hand delved deeper into the front of his tunic and felt for the small square of leather he had carried with him from Mammoth Camp. He unfolded it with deadened fingers. Inside was the owl feather, sodden and broken.

  Broken like me . . .

  He brushed it, remembering how soft it once was. It had travelled a long way, too.

  Forgive me . . .

  Tarin sent a silent plea to his clan, so far away.

  Forgive me for failing you.

  Then he placed the feather on the rock with the pendant.

  ‘It’s all I have left to give.’

  The wind caught the feather and ruffled it, but it was too wet to fly. Instead, it fell into the water and was washed downstream. The pendant fell with it.

  As Tarin closed his eyes, the stream carried it away.

  ‘Luuka! What are you doing?’ Kaija scrambled up the rocks to her brother.

  ‘I have to follow Rohk,’ Luuka said, trying to enlarge the small crawl space. He pulled a boulder and dust and grit rained down on them.

  ‘You have to stop,’ Kaija said, coughing. She grabbed his arm as he pulled another rock loose. ‘Luuka! You’ll have the whole cave on top of us.’

  Luuka groaned and ran his hands through his hair. ‘But what about Rohk?’

  Kaija chewed her lip. ‘Rohk’s clever. He can find his way out.’ More dust choked the air. A cascade of pebbles rolled down the pile of fallen rocks. Nilkka yelped, dancing away from the falling stones. ‘Luuka, we have to get out of here.’

  Luuka nodded, his lips pressed into a thin line. He peered into the dark hole.

  ‘Rohk! Come on, boy. Where are you?’

  ‘He can’t hear you, Luuka! He’s deep underground by now.’

  Luuka dropped his head, then looked up at Kaija, his face alive as an idea came to him. He rummaged around in his jerkin and pulled out Lorv’s flute. He quickly unwrapped it and blew as sharply as he could. The sound bounced of the rocks and echoed in the chamber beyond.

  ‘Rohk!’ he shouted, following his call with another series of notes.

  But there was no answer. Nilkka whined and barked shar
ply.

  ‘Now, Luuka.’ Kaija climbed down the rocks and hugged Nilkka to her. She felt the wolf tremble. Luuka followed her more slowly, still looking behind, but Rohk didn’t return.

  They returned to the rock ledge overlooking the lake and huddled by the fire.

  ‘I think you’re right about the light coming through those rocks,’ Kaija said. ‘We should be able to dig ourselves out.’

  Luuka nodded, but didn’t speak. He stared at the flickering flames and rested his hands in Nilkka’s fur.

  Kaija studied the grim look on his face and held her hands out to the warming flames. ‘And then what do we do?’ Her voice was soft, and despite trying to sound strong and unafraid, it still trembled.

  Luuka blinked and looked at his sister. He reached for her hand and gripped it firmly. ‘We’ll manage. Just like we did before. We’ll get down off the mountain and out of the snow, and we can hunt.’

  Kaija nodded and blinked away tears.

  ‘The first step is to get out of here,’ Luuka said. He stood and studied the cave-in. ‘If we swim across to those rocks, I think we can climb up to where the sun is coming in.’ He frowned and chewed his lip. ‘We don’t know what’s on the other side, of course.’ His frown deepened.

  ‘Do we have a choice?’

  Luuka shook his head. ‘No. We don’t.’

  They wrapped their dry clothes and the last of the firewood in a bundle.

  ‘What about Tarin’s clothes?’ Kaija asked.

  ‘Take everything we can,’ Luuka said. ‘We may need them.’

  Without their packs, they had no way to keep the bundles dry, except to balance them on their heads as they once more entered the blue lake. The water was now grey with churning silt, and Kaija felt sad to lose the beautiful blue water. Of the large rocks that had fallen past her, there was no sign. They had fallen all the way to the bottom. Kaija shivered. The lake must be very deep.

  Nilkka was the first to reach the other side, and she shook herself free of the water as she climbed up onto the rocks. Luuka was next, and he held his hand out to Kaija as she struggled to find a foothold on the slippery rocks. They helped each other up the giant rock stairs to where the faint ray broke through chinks in the wall. A fresh breeze blew through the holes, smelling of freedom and sunshine.