Sisters of the Wolf

by Patricia Miller-Schroeder

  “We’ll see what can be done when we’re back at camp.” Shazur lies down with his back to Shinoni. “Now we need rest.”

  Shinoni hugs her knees as she curls up by the fire. The wolf’s glowing eyes seem to stare back at her from the flames. She drifts into the dream world, relieved it was the wolf that came to her — and not the snake with its blood-red eyes.

  3

  NEANDERTHAL (KRAG)

  CAMP

  THE MORNING AFTER THE LION ATTACK dawns cold and cloudy. Keena hesitates at the mouth of the cave. Normally the outer camp bustles with Krags going about their chores. Today it’s empty. Bone and stone tools lie where their users dropped them when the beast killed again.

  Caw, caw.

  Keena stumbles backward as a crow flies up from feeding on scraps. Yesterday she helped the women butcher a deer there, before she took the children to gather wood. Keena presses her fist to her eyes, blocking tears. The crows had warned her, but she wasn’t quick enough to save Tat.

  It was her fault he died.

  Keena’s band clusters beside her, but no one ventures outside. Their familiar scents mingle and envelop her in a thick cloak. Krags are powerful and her father’s their leader. Still, all around her men, women, and children hang back, shifting from one sturdy leg to the other, unwilling to leave the group.

  “Good morning, daughter.” Atuk walks past Keena, then steps out of the shelter. “We’re Krags,” he shouts, raising his spear above his head. “We’re hunters.”

  Some of the band members shuffle and mutter beside Keena. No one moves out of the cave. Her father’s hair is grey and his pale skin furrowed with wrinkles, but his eyes are still piercing under their heavy brow ridges. He scans the group and focuses on Keena. Heat spreads across her cheeks.

  “We must destroy this beast before it kills more Krags,” Atuk says. “We can’t hide here. We need to bring in food before the snows come.”

  Atuk’s right. Keena takes a deep breath and joins her father. The wind whips her flame-red hair across her eyes, blocking her view of the band clinging to the safety of the cave. She smells her people’s fear.

  Keena avoids looking at Teal, cradling her newborn small one. “Come out. We’re safer together,” Keena calls. Ubra steps out and joins arms with her daughter. The warmth of her mother’s touch flows through Keena’s body. Soon all the band members join them and spread out to begin the day’s work.

  Keena thrusts a torch into one of the fires by the entrance and transfers the flames to a hearth outside the cave. A fire roars to life. Others collect wood or water, but whatever they do, they do it together. Keena knows, as they all do, that a lone Krag is often a dead Krag.

  The icy breath of Leeswi, the Earth Mother, shakes the trees surrounding the camp. Keena looks up. Have they displeased her in some way? What had they done or left undone that angered the spirit enough that she sent the lion?

  Older women and mothers with small ones squat by the fire, drying strips of deer meat. They work side by side in a circle, facing the forest in all directions. The smallest children play inside the circle, protected by the women’s bodies. Keena’s mother chants as she takes precious strips of meat and throws them into the fire. The smell of burning flesh fills Keena’s nostrils and rises on the wind. Will Leeswi accept the offering?

  Keena joins her friend Gorda and the older children gathering kindling to keep the fires burning. She shoos them into a huddle. “Do you want to be lion food?”

  “Lighten up, little mother Keena.” Gorda moves to the other side of the group. “We have to spread out to find wood,” she says. “We’re close to the hunters.”

  In an open area, Atuk has gathered the men and the boys old enough to hunt. They are planning the best way to track and kill the lion. Keena breathes easier with Atuk so near. Stories of her father’s skill and bravery as a hunter are often shared around their campfires. As a young one, she would snuggle on his lap and touch his scars. She loved hearing about his battles with powerful predators like hyenas, wolves, and bears.

  Keena waves at her father as she moves on with the children. She remembers the story of his first hunt when he was about her age. He was trampled by a woolly mammoth but survived and gained honour for helping with the kill. She’s proud to be Atuk’s daughter and she won’t let him down again.

  “Do you think they’ll be able to kill this lion?” Gorda asks.

  “Of course. Atuk’s killed many lions. He’ll kill this one and wear its teeth.” A shiver runs down her spine even as she speaks. This beast, which strikes without warning and disappears without a trace, isn’t like other lions.

  Keena bends to pick up a large branch, then turns to watch her father. Atuk paces back and forth in the clearing, limping as he talks to the men. Two suns ago, when she walked with him in the forest, she heard and smelled a wolverine long before he did. Just last night, when Atuk thought she was asleep, he told Ubra the lion might be a messenger from Leeswi, a sign that it’s time to choose a new leader.

  Keena flares her nostrils. Her sharp eyes rake the forest fringe. She’ll help her father kill this lion. More than anything, she wants to make Atuk proud of her. It’s too bad she’s not a son.

  Keena and Gorda herd the children away from the forest and closer to the men. The hunters clutch heavy spears with sharp stone blades the size of their fists. Keena helped Atuk bind his blade onto its thick wooden shaft with rawhide and pine resin after the first lion attack. He let her take it to protect the children last sun time, but she still couldn’t save Tat.

  Keena tries to remember a time when Atuk wasn’t their leader. Would any other hunter in their band do a better job than her father? Two are grey hairs like Atuk and have hunted with him since they were boys. Three others are younger and stronger, but one of them, Keena’s uncle Dakur, had one of his mighty arms ripped off by hyenas. Another, Shad, is still recovering after being gored in the ribs by a woolly rhinoceros. The third, Sate, is bad tempered and lazy. Keena doesn’t see a leader among them. None is as smart or strong as her father.

  The remaining two are young, more boys than men. Each has only recently become a hunter after killing an animal large enough that they could share meat with the band. They’ve only killed deer or ibex so far. They haven’t faced the most dangerous creatures; certainly not a lion.

  One of the boys, Kreel, steps away from the other hunters. He grins and waves at Keena. Her lips twitch but she turns back to her task. Now isn’t the time to fool around. She and Kreel, who is Sate’s son, have played together since they were young ones wrestling over bone playthings. It’s strange to think of him as a hunter now.

  Thunk. Keena jumps as a stone lands at her feet. She turns in time to see a smiling Kreel rejoin the group of men. She scoops up the rock and returns it with a direct hit on his backside.

  “Has Kreel spoken to Atuk about you?” Gorda asks.

  “Why should that poor shot of a boy speak to my father about me?”

  “He’s killed an ibex and shared meat. Soon he’ll have his own hearth. It’s obvious he wants you as his mate. You’re lucky.”

  “Lucky? He’s a child, always playing. He should be listening to Atuk, not throwing stones.”

  “You’ll see. Atuk likes Kreel. Soon they’ll talk, and then you’ll go to Kreel’s hearth.” Gorda hoists her load of kindling onto her back.

  Keena bristles. “I’ll decide whose hearth I’ll go to. Maybe I’ll go with Kreel, maybe I won’t.”

  “You’ll decide?” Gorda smirks.

  Keena clenches her fists as Gorda hustles the children toward their mothers. She grasps part of a lichen-covered tree trunk broken by the wind and braces her legs as she hoists it onto her shoulders. Gorda’s always sticking her big nose where it doesn’t belong. Sure, she likes Kreel, but he needs to grow up. She’s stronger and smarter than he is, and she’s not leaving her father’s hearth until she decides to. She looks back at Kreel, who’s still watching her. He waves and a smile spreads across his
face like sunshine warming the hillside. His eyes sparkle under the ridge of his brow. She can’t resist a small grin and returns his wave. They’re still friends, after all.

  “Kreel!” Atuk’s raised voice refocuses Keena’s attention on the men’s group. What’s caused her usually patient father to shout? She drops the log and moves closer to the group, gathering brush as she goes. Kreel’s annoying, but she doesn’t want him to be in trouble because of her.

  Kreel’s friend Sabra pulls him into the group of hunters. “Atuk’s talking to you, brother, and your father’s angry, too.”

  “What do you think, Kreel? Should we dig a pit to trap the lion?” Atuk nods encouragement. “Bait it with fresh deer meat?”

  “This lion likes Krag meat, so it might be hard to trap that way.” Kreel’s voice squeaks, and he scans the faces of the more experienced hunters.

  “Then we should use the most useless Krag in the band as bait,” Sate snarls. Keena holds her breath. Why does Sate say things like this about his son?

  “There aren’t any useless Krags in this band,” Atuk says. He turns his attention to Sabra. “What would the Kula do? Have your people tracked a lion such as this?”

  Keena’s concern for Kreel turns to annoyance at Sabra. “Of course the Kula knows what to do,” Keena mutters. “Doesn’t he always?”

  Sabra stands a head taller than even her father, and his skin is brown like the earth. His black hair is adorned with hawk feathers and pulled back into a tail, which bobs up and down as he talks.

  “Our hunters wouldn’t use spears such as you carry.” Sabra holds up Kreel’s spear. “You have to get too close with these. The lion will kill or injure you before you thrust into its heart and kill it.”

  “What would you use, then?” Atuk asks. “We’ve killed many mighty beasts with our spears.”

  Keena clenches her teeth and snaps a dead branch from a tree, breaking it with her knee. Ever since Sabra stumbled into their camp, frozen and starving during the last great snow, he’s been the centre of attention.

  Crack. Keena stomps another limb. They saved Sabra’s life and let him stay in their camp. When the ice melted he returned to his Kula people, but he often comes back to visit, and sometimes his father, Luka, visits them, too.

  Crack. Whenever Sabra visits, he shows off his superior Kula way of doing things.

  “You’ve seen my smaller spear.” Sabra holds up his own weapon. “My people use a stick that helps us throw our spears so they fly through the air like a bird. I can show you how to make this stick, but it’ll take practice to use it.”

  “Krags aren’t afraid to get close to beasts.” Dakur laughs, raising his arm stump. “We’ve always hunted and killed this way.” Many of the Krag hunters nod agreement.

  Sabra shrugs. “As you wish, Dakur, but you wouldn’t lose so many parts of your body with a Kula spear.”

  “Perhaps you can teach us to make these throwing sticks later, but we have no time now. We have to kill this lion before it takes another from our group.” Atuk raises his own sturdy spear and the hunters gather around him.

  Keena heads toward camp with her kindling. She’s heard enough from Sabra. How can his bragging draw her father’s attention and Kreel’s friendship?

  As the men talk, Keena stands on the ridge near the cave and looks down into the valley. The bushes sway far below, but the movement isn’t like that caused by the ever-present mountain breezes. It’s more like movement caused by a large animal travelling up the hillside toward the camp. Is the lion coming to attack them once again?

  “Father, come quickly. Some beast’s approaching.” Keena’s shout freezes in her throat when a long, mournful sound trumpets from the bushes. Bleeepp, bleeepp. This is definitely not the call of a lion.

  She gapes at the sight of the creatures emerging from the shadows below, their backs humped, covered with fur. “It’s not the lion. It’s strange hunters covered with fur.”

  “They’re worse than the lion,” Atuk growls as he reaches the ridge.

  Keena gasps. “What can be worse than the lion?”

  “Your uncle Haken, girl.” Atuk’s grip on her shoulder tightens and sweat glistens on his brow. “You must stay away from him.”

  Keena peers over the ridge. How can this be? Her father, who’s faced rampaging mammoths and charging bears, is afraid of this hunter and his men struggling up the mountain.

  4

  CRO-MAGNON (KULA)

  CAMP

  HONK, HONK. A large flock of geese rises from the water, blocking the sunlight and throwing shadows over Shinoni and Wenzel, who are gathering reeds in the marsh. They gaze skyward, following the birds’ V-shaped flight toward the horizon, away from the coming snow time and its icy grip. Cold water splashes Shinoni as more geese fly up around her. Since returning to camp with Shazur this sun time, she’s been trying to stick to her chores and please her father, but it’s hard when there are so many other exciting things to do.

  “We should take some of these fat birds, Wenzel.” Shinoni rushes to the shore and drops her reeds. She whisks the sling from her pouch and scoops stones from the ground.

  “The men can kill some when they return to camp.” Wenzel makes no move to leave the water and continues to pick reeds.

  “They’ve been gone many suns and might be gone many more. We don’t have to wait for them.” Shinoni fits a stone into the sling and twirls it around her head, sending it whizzing toward a group of geese.

  Honk, ho-o-n-nk. Feathers fly and the birds scold as they rise into the sky.

  “You’re no hunter,” Wenzel says.

  “I can hunt. I’ve been on a vision quest and I’ve seen spirit animals.” The words tumble out before she can stop them. She puts her sling away in her pouch.

  “That’s not possible. Only boys do that,” Wenzel scoffs and returns to her work.

  Shinoni balls her hands into fists and grinds her teeth. In the distance, Grandmother Reza approaches from the camp. Shazur didn’t punish her for going to the vision cave, but Shinoni is sure Grandmother would if she knew. Better put some distance between herself and Wenzel. Secrets have a way of popping out of Wenzel’s mouth.

  Shinoni joins several women farther down the shore. Etak’s there. Only a few snow melts older than Shinoni, she’s heavy with her first child. She shifts her weight from one leg to the other.

  “Take it easy or you’ll give breath to the new one right here in the water.” Shinoni pats Etak’s swollen belly and takes her load of reeds.

  “When will the men return?” Etak clasps Shinoni’s arm. “The sun’s risen many times since they left.”

  “They’re likely enjoying themselves, knowing we’ll do all the work here,” Shinoni says. She helps Etak sit on the shore as the other women join them, spreading their reeds to dry.

  “You know the men must find a cave for us before the snows come,” an older woman, Najka, scolds Shinoni. “They might have to travel far to find one that isn’t used by Strange Ones or bears or hyenas. Maybe they’ll have to fight for a good one.”

  “Can’t we stay in the sacred cave this snow time?” Etak points toward the rock wall behind the camp. The other women gasp and she lowers her voice.

  “Perhaps the spirits wouldn’t mind if we stayed in the outer area —”

  “Enough. Such nonsense,” says a firm voice.

  Shinoni knows that voice, and she knows Etak’s in big trouble. Grandmother Reza, standing on the bank behind them, frowns down at the women. The lines on her face show her age and wisdom. She carries a carved walking stick to get around — and to make sure she’s listened to. Shinoni also knows the range of that stick. She hauls Etak to her feet, pulling her out of Reza’s reach.

  Bone and shell decorations adorn Reza’s long grey braid, and ornaments made of otter and fox teeth and deer antler line her tunic. An ivory amulet in the shape of an eagle hangs around her neck. Shinoni watches the eagle fly from side to side as her grandmother hops from one foot to the other.


  “You bring shame to Kula women. You know we must honour the animal spirits in the sacred cave if we’re to live here,” Reza snaps.

  “I’m sorry, Reza. I meant no disrespect,” Etak says. “I do know that, and I know the hunting’s been good.”

  “Would you have the animals hide from our spears? Would you have the hunts fail and our people go hungry?” Reza shouts. She swings her stick in an arc, pointing it at the women. “The sacred cave can only be entered by the shaman and the hunters. To live in there would anger the spirits and turn them against us.” Reza stops to catch her breath, sides heaving.

  Najka intervenes before the medicine woman gets any angrier. “We know it’s important to honour the spirits, Reza. We’re just worried because we have young ones and Etak will soon give breath to a new one. We need shelter from the snows.” Najka lowers her head. “Mother Reza, can you tell us if the men will find a new home for us soon?”

  Reza throws back her head and closes her eyes. “Hahaahaahumm,” she chants as she rocks on her heels. Shinoni rocks with her, mouthing the sounds. She’s watched Grandmother use her inner sight many times. An uneasy prickle runs along Shinoni’s spine as she waits for Reza to answer. Finally the medicine woman’s eyelids flutter open, but her words bring no comfort to the women. “Shazur has asked the spirits to help the men in their search. If we haven’t angered the spirits, the men will find a cave and return.”

  Reza dismisses them with a nod of her head. The women return to their work, not daring to question the medicine woman further. Shinoni slips away along the shore, putting distance between herself and her grandmother.

  If Reza can see things, perhaps she already knows Shinoni has been on a vision quest. Perhaps Grandmother knows she’s broken an even larger taboo and been in the sacred cave and seen the painted animals on the walls. Perhaps she knows the animal spirits are calling Shinoni, drawing her there once again.