The Eagle Feather: Life is Hard, but Beautiful (The Eagle Feather Saga Book 1)

by A. K. Vyas

  Cloud rapidly led Aash and the hunting team back to the village. Visibility vanished into whiteout. We may have stayed too late. Cloud will get us home. Aash huddled the team and had them tie themselves together. The blizzard screeched wildly with gale force winds. They eventually returned safely despite the conditions due to Cloud. Aash realized Emil sending Cloud had likely saved him twice that day.

  The ice blizzard lasted through the night and finally broke near the following dusk. A fresh blanket of deep, powdery, sparkling snow encompassed the landscape as far as the eye could see. The birds were all back, vigorously chirping again, as the fleeting purple sunlight briefly reappeared as well.

  Inga the Mountain Woman had recovered a great deal. She sat with the women by the fires. The fierce little woman was excited to learn she would be returned at dawn. Inga eagerly insisted on helping cook the evening meal. Her sable furs were much warmer than any in the village. She was the only woman not shivering by the evening fires.

  The village women joked as the meat sizzled. Inga had taken this opportunity to braid Lulu’s hair in the style of the Mountain Women. This feat was of no small interest to the People’s women, who circled up close. Lulu was always beautiful to Aash, but especially today. Papa noted the two of them were giggling like long-lost sisters.

  Inga saw Mama salting the steaming meat, and asked what this was. After one piece she declared salted meat tasted so much better. She noticed Mama shivering a bit at a wind gust. Inga put her warm sable hat on Lulu’s head. The two women somehow figured out only the People’s lands had salt licks. Sable were much more common in the mountains of Inga’s people.

  At the evening meal the children were fed first. Inga was sitting next to Mama and Emil. She handed the boy a sizzling piece of salted meat on a big leaf. There was a faded jagged scar on her hand which Emil asked about.

  The Mountain Woman signed, “Skorpon,” and made a biting motion. Mama and all of the village women stopped serving and stared at her. The Skorpon was a small red insect with cruel pincers and a barbed sharp tail. Its sting was deadly. There was no cure and anyone stung died a painful death within a day. Mama signed to Inga “Skorpon” and made the death sign.

  Inga shook her head. She stopped eating to reach for her small fur pouch. She pulled out a tiny dried white flower, saying, “Edelweiss.”

  The Mountain Woman rubbed the dried white flower over the bite scar and signed to the group, “Skorpon…Edelweiss. Skorpon bite bad…Edelweiss save good.”

  Mama took the white flower in her hand. This was a mountain flower that didn’t grow in the People’s lands. Inga took the edelweiss back in her hand and held up one finger. She rubbed the flower into her scar again. Then she held up a second finger and acted as if she was adding the flower to her water pouch and drinking it. Then she smiled at all of them.

  That night Inga sang along with the People at the evening meal. She really wanted to dance along with the women, but her leg was still healing. Mama put an arm around her and held Inga up. The two danced a hop on three legs. Mama saw Papa clapping in approval.

  “Do you like my hair this way?” Lulu asked.

  Aash replied, “That’s a silly question. I’m the wrong person to ask. You know you’re always the most beautiful thing in the world to me. Hair or no hair. Snow or sun. Since the first moment I saw you. Yes, I do like it this new way too.”

  Then it was time for the men to dance. Emil and the boys wanted to dance with the men, so they did. The boys jumped as high as they could for courage, just like their fathers. Emil tried Bret’s turtle dance, and almost pulled it off. It was one of those warm, cozy winter nights you never want to end.

  The Mountain Woman was returned to her people the next morning on a fur-lined travois. In addition, Inga was returned with two large leather pouches of salt. The Mountain Man team was once again led by Vili, whose serpentine eyes remained glacial.

  Aki the red-bearded giant glided gracefully across the ice and scooped up Inga with glee. Aash nodded to Vili and the couple, and turned back for shore with Cloud.

  “Aash,” called out Aki. He signed,” My woman…tell…you find…save her.”

  Aash turned and signed, “Yes.”

  Aki signed, “When war comes, I kill you last.” But his smile said he was joking. This crack earned him a quick slap from his fierce little wife. The giant laughed heartily again and put Inga down gingerly. Aki did not believe in the legend of Fenrir, but he still kept a cautious eye on Cloud. Aash had not missed this, or how light on his feet this powerful giant moved. It’s hard not to like this merry mountain of a man.

  The red-bearded giant stood tall and signed again. “Son of Eagle Feather, your spear is too short.” Aki swept the frost from his bright red beard. Aash’s hunting team raised their spears.

  Aash signed back, “Not if you dance close enough,” while taking a smiling step forward.

  The bear-sized man’s rolling laugh echoed again across the sparkling ice river. He picked up his great ivory war axe, twirling the heavy hatchet deftly in a meaty paw as if were a twig. Aki very slowly offered it handle side forward to Aash. “A real weapon…you take…Son of Eagle Feather.”

  Aash graciously accepted the gift. Inga called him over as well and held out her ivory necklace.

  “Give Lulu,” she signed. “In one moon cycle…my man…bring sable furs…you bring salt.”

  Once again Aash caught the momentary look of malice on Vili’s face. Some men just want to see the world burn, thought Aash. If there is war with the Mountain Men, it’ll be due to him.

  As Cloud led the way home, Aash was deep in thought.

  These Mountain Men are huge with pale skin, but otherwise so similar to the People. They also love one another and struggle to survive, just like us. There might still be war over land or game. I know now the Mountain Men aren’t just the barbaric savages of the stories.

  Aash had been raised to believe there are only the People, enemies, and strangers who must be considered enemies.

  Does it have to be this way? He thought of fighting mighty Aki. The jolly giant had been one step away from learning the true power of a “little” venom dart. This thought is surprisingly bothersome. Mighty Aki reminds me of little Bret in jaunty spirit. There are also women like Inga, who’d have fit right in with the People’s women.

  Aash looked at the glistening ivory war axe. He marveled at the folly of twirling it.

  It’s a magnificent weapon. It would take me two hands just to wield it. Trading salt for furs is a good start, and a much better use of our hands than war. The Mountain Men can be reasoned with.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “The whisper of a pretty girl can be heard further off than the roar of a lion.” -French Proverb

  Snow

  A ghastly, yet melodious sound rang throughout the stark star-kissed darkness of the winter sky. The village Ghers swayed heavily in the frosty nocturnal winds. Cloud’s ears had perked up at the haunting howls of the wolves. The white wolf and Emil looked at each other, then howled back in reply. The entire Gher was filled with howls as Mama and Papa joined them. We are a pack, a family, life is good.

  “Will they come, Papa?” Emil asked.

  Papa went back to whittling a knife handle. “When they come, wolves are a silent wind rustling over a single pinecone. They tolerate and avoid us for the most part. When they howl it’s to find each other, mark territory, and maybe because just like us, they like to sing.”

  Mama and Emil went back to playing Eagle Eye. Babo was getting almost as good as Mama.

  “What is territory?” asked the boy.

  Mama answered, “It’s an area or land that animals or people feel they own. They live there, eat there, and will fight for it.”

  Emil was confused and tapped his finger on his cheek.

  Mama went on, “Think of a tiger. It lives in a certain part of the forest and stays within this beat. It hunts for food here and marks its area by roaring, clawing trees, or scen
t marks. They are warning other tigers to stay away from their food. Most animals prefer to avoid us. If you get too close, they turn and fight just like we would.”

  Emil blurted out, “This is why we stay on this side of the river, and the Mountain Men on the other side. Will we ever have to fight them again? They are so big.”

  Papa looked at Mama’s ivory necklace. Her blonde locks were still braided in the new style of the Mountain Women. “I don’t think so, Babo. It was good we saved Inga and now we trade salt for furs. No one wants war. There is enough game on both sides of the river, and plenty of water for all. You are right, they are big and powerful. The war with them was very bad for the People.”

  “How did we win? It’s because we were smarter.” stated Emil.

  Papa shook his head, and picked up the Mountain Man’s heavy ivory war axe. The weapon was perfectly balanced for throwing.

  “No, they are smart too. In the end it was a very close thing. Some of it was luck, but mainly we made them fight our fight. We learned real fast facing them in the open with their size and these big throwing axes was bad. They are so much bigger and stronger than us. Your opa adapted our strategy to our strengths. We are faster and much better in the woods. We would ambush them in the woods and melt away too fast for them. We’d set traps for them in the forest and raid them at night, which no one does. They’d taunt us to come out in the open and fight like men. That’s nonsense—if you have to fight, fight to win. Fight to your strengths if possible. They’d track us and lose men to traps on the trail. The trail would end in emptiness with nothing there but a single white eagle feather. Then we would ambush them on the way home. We only fought when we had advantage, or they couldn’t find us.”

  Papa paused to look over at Mama.

  “We also won because our women were magnificent. They also fought. They were so skilled at breaking down Ghers, moving the village, and keeping us fed. We moved the village so fast and often, the Mountain Men never found us. All our men could fight instead of hunting. We adapt. If we fought again, they would expect such things. With enough throwing sticks and wolves, we could now even face them in the open if needed.”

  Emil was watching Papa intently, taking all of this in. “What kinds of traps, Papa?”

  “Bad ones, Babo,” recalled Papa. “We’d leave small hidden pits with sharp stakes where they walked. Sometimes we left a deadly snake staked to a tree branch when they were following us. The angry viper would strike the next person that passed. War is slaughter, Emil.”

  “Enough war talk, I don’t like it,” Mama said.

  Papa smiled mischievously. “She is right. Playing to your strengths works anywhere. Who is the best runner, wrestler, and thrower among the boys? What if there was a contest with a new light spear as a prize?”

  Emil’s eyes thought about it. “Mats runs the fastest. Kilan always wins at wrestling, and I throw the best.”

  Papa grinned. “So in the contest you would each win at what you do best. To win the tiebreaker you would have to wrestle better than Mats, or outrun Kilan. You are the second fastest runner. So, your training focus should be throwing and running before the contest. Do you follow?”

  Papa added, “With advantage make the game as simple as possible; if not, make it as complex.”

  Mama rolled her eyes with nostalgia at this. She shook her head slowly in mock disdain of Papa, and playfully took Emil in her lap.

  “Babo, your papa wasn’t the strongest or fastest boy in the village. He never won at wrestling, or spear contests. or the Autumn Races. Aron was the fastest boy. Your papa challenged him to a race. He lost the first twenty-nine races, then finally won the thirtieth one. Everyone saw this. He isn’t as funny as he thinks he is, and doesn’t have a great singing voice either. Naturally, this never stopped him from climbing the tree closest to where the girls sorted the daily fruit and singing to me. Of course, he promptly fell out of the tree and broke his arm. It was pretty obvious he would never be a great hunter or chief. The smart girls were pretty sure he was too clumsy to even survive ten winters. But none of the other boys climbed trees and sang. He only sang to me; he made me laugh!”

  “All’s fair in love and war,” laughed Papa as he gave them both a big kiss.

  These old stories always made Emil smile, but there was something else on his mind after hearing the wolves. His mind was flooded with thoughts. He visualized some of the things they’d seen the past few days. Emil especially wondered about some of the pictures on the walls of the Sabretooth’s cave.

  Papa said these men had powerful spirits that helped them hunt mammoth and other big game. Some of the pictures showed the ancient men had big feet when hunting in winter. Emil also thought about the power of the recent winter storm. The rough white hail falling from the dark sky had stung harder than thrown rocks. There was so much force to things that fell far.

  Mama and Papa had fallen asleep, as had Cloud. The white wolf was cuddled next to Emil and snoring away. The great gray wolves so far away had stopped serenading the moon that night. Emil fell asleep dreaming of snow, wolves, and mammoths.

  The next day was sunny but cold. After morning chores, Papa and the boys were practicing throwing. They could all see their breath. Cloud went off chasing something in the woods.

  Papa had set up a target and was practicing with the new ivory axe. It was balanced but heavy and he needed his whole body and both hands to throw it. The boys were throwing light spears and learning to adjust for the wind.

  Emil had stopped throwing and was standing in one of Cloud’s footprints. Then it came to him.

  “Papa, I have an idea. Cloud’s heavier than me, but I sink more in the snow. Is it because his feet are bigger or the shape? I think it’s the shape because the Mountain Men have really big feet, and they sink even farther. The men in the cave pictures had feet shaped like this.”

  Emil drew a big oval shape in the snow around his foot then went on, “No people have feet like this. I think they are wearing something this shape on their feet to walk in the snow.”

  Papa stroked his chin pensively. “It would have to be strong enough to run on though. Wood, I think, with leather straps to hold them on.”

  They went to the woodpile and Papa found two good broad pieces of wood. He carefully carved out matching teardrop-shaped blades. The next step was adding holes on each side for bindings to pass through. The sun was at its peak for the day, when he called Emil over. Papa had him stand on the blades and secured them tight by tying leather bindings over the feet.

  Emil could run over the snow now just like Cloud. The boys each wanted a pair now too. Papa had them test the “snow feet” in deeper powdery snow. It was still much better than before.

  Chief Sev had heard the animated boys and came over to watch. He took one blade from Emil and looked it up and down. “This changes winter hunting. All of the People must have them.”

  Half a moon cycle later, one of the People’s hunting teams left at dawn all wearing the “snow feet” and returned at dusk with a massive elk. They had stalked and chased it down through heavy powder wearing the new wooden feet. The kill was entirely made with throwing sticks. Chief Sev watched the women and children welcome their returning men as always. With no wasted time, enough fresh meat was set aside for the evening fires. Other women took the rest to the smoking Ghers so it could be cured. It was as if this was the old way, even though none of this would have been possible just one winter ago.

  The Chief thought pensively on these developments. He called a private meeting of the Elders and the Spearmaker. Once assembled in his Gher, he addressed them.

  “Today I saw our hunters return with a huge elk in the dead of deep winter. I never thought this possible. We could never move this way in snow. Any meat we couldn’t eat would spoil in a few days. Now the ‘snow feet,’ throwing sticks, and smoking meat allow us to hunt like wolves themselves. We can rain down darts from safer distance to kill. Now we store meat for entire moon cycles.
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br />   “There is a single reason for all this. The Eagle Feather’s leadership saved the People. Bret also showed us the difference one man can make. This boy Emil, the way he thinks, is like none I’ve ever seen. He’s also lucky. I want each of you to teach him your wisdom. Push him harder than any boy in the village. Make sure he develops the physical stamina required to lead. He’s the Eagle Feather returned to the People.

  “If he survives the warrior trials, Emil will be Chief following me. If I die before he comes of age, the Spearmaker will be Chief until his boy is ready. Do not tell Emil any of this. No one not here will know of this, until the time comes. I, Chief Sev of the Auroch People, have spoken.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “The lion may be king of the jungle but he knows, he shouldn’t stand in the way of the elephant.” -Gujrathi Proverb

  Mammoth

  The howling gray wolves woke the village. There was a brisk excitement in the shiny winter air. Emil had never seen a morning this busy. Mammoth. A single hunting team in “snow feet” was already speeding off in the direction of the howling.

  Papa was cheerfully double-wrapping a heavy obsidian spearpoint. Cloud and Emil slowly staggered over. The boy was still brushing sleep from his eyes and squinting at the early sun’s powerful glare off the snow. Papa’s voice sang out.

  “Mammoth, Babo! The wolves are calling us to the hunt! Have you ever heard them howl in daylight? They tell us mammoth are entering our valley from the Great Plains. The herds usually go through the granite cliffs of the Mountain Men, unless snow blocks the passes. They come in two to three days.”

  Emil announced, “Papa, I think the cave drawings show us a good way to hunt mammoth. There is another idea there, like they showed us the ‘snow feet.’”