by Karen Pepin
"Lor'Li, tend to your mate," he said, placing a comforting hand on Lor’Li’s shoulder. She swallowed a cry and ran towards where some men were gathered, shoving them roughly out of her way to reach her injured husband. Ven'Ta turned and addressed us all.
"Pero'Pero has been wounded badly and Anto'Ces has fallen to the bollar. May the Wanderer guide him to a gentler place."
I stifled a gasp. These men were two of our clan's better hunters and to say that Pero was badly wounded meant he might not be able to travel. My throat tightened and my eyes burned with tears. I took several deep breaths. Pero might still be able to move. There was time to find out. It would take time to deal with our dead and the dead bollar.
"Do we light his way?" Ta'Bor asked his father. Heads turned to catch our chief's answer.
"No," Ven'Ta replied heavily. "The land is too parched for a burning."
Many heads bowed. When we could, we burned our dead so as to light the spirit's way back to the Wanderer and the stars from where we came. But burnings were not always possible. It would be foolish to risk a wildfire. Flame could easily outrun us. Ven'Ta continued, raising his voice so all could hear him.
"We'll honor the Hunter, who has taken him for his other children. Anto'Ces's spirit is with the Wanderer now. It will not pain him. But the Hunter gives as well as takes. Three bollar to feed us on our journey." Ven'Ta moved his hand across his closed eyes, and the shadow of grief followed.
I realized that no burning to light Anto’Ces’s path meant that we would not be staying on until morning. Still, the bollar would take time to butcher. There was time, I thought, praying that Pero's wounds were not bad. To lose one of our clan to an attack and perhaps a second to injury was something none of us could bear to think about. There were too few of us as it was.
Ven'Ta began giving out assignments, sending some to skin and butcher the beasts and others to stand guard against another attack. I received water duty. My mother went to help Li tend her mate. I could not see his wounds from where I crouched by the trickling stream, but I could tell from the stiffness in my mother's shoulders and her straight back that it was not good.
My sister brought a water bag over and thrust it at me.
"You fill it and go to mother. I'll take over here," she said. I wanted to argue, but Pero did not have the time for that. I filled the water bag quickly.
Taking my first look at Pero's wounds, I understood why my sister had not wanted to return. The swift bollars had slipped past his guard and taken multiple bites from his legs. With their razor-sharp teeth, they left gaping holes of bleeding meat. The coppery smell of exposed muscle made my stomach roil. How Pero had managed to avoid the bollars’ claws was a mystery, but he was pierced only with teeth marks. His blood painted the dirt beneath him in a slow, growing pool that the parched earth drank greedily. I swallowed hard and had to turn away for a moment. Then, I forced myself to look closer.
The major blood vessels in Pero’s legs appeared intact. The wounds would not kill him, not right away, unless infection set in. But still, with wounds like this, our clan mate would not be able to walk or run. He would not be able to travel. I dropped to my knees. My mother took the water bag from my nerveless hands. I met Pero's bleak gaze. He knew.
A shadow fell over me.
"Will he be able to travel?" Ven'Ta asked. The words were tradition and had to be asked, even though the answer was obvious.
"No," rasped Pero. He cleared his throat. "No. I cannot travel."
Ven'Ta nodded.
"What is your choice?" our Chief asked. His words were clear and calm, but his eyes gave away his grief. An injured clan member had a terrible choice to make. They could choose life and try to survive on their own, or they could choose a merciful death. Ven'Ta had been a chief's son when Pero was born. I couldn't imagine the painful duty of taking the life of a clan mate, one whom you had known since his birth. Pero’s jaw flexed and hardened as he silently made his decision.
"I have been a warrior all my days. I will die one if the Hunter so wishes, but I choose life," Pero said. His voice did not quiver. Determination aged him years in that moment.
"So be it," Ven'Ta said, bowing his head.
My chest hurt, and I realized I had been holding my breath.
A quavering wail rose from Li's throat as she threw herself at her husband. Pero gently stroked her face, trying to reassure her, but her grief and panic grew. My mother tried to pull Li away. I couldn't move and was blinded by my own tears. I felt a tap on my shoulder.
"Go help with the bollar," our Chief said softly. "I will see to this."
I nodded and staggered to my feet. I couldn't block out Li's cries or Pero's soft, "I love you." I swiped at my cheeks, but more tears fell.
I hadn't expected his answer—to choose life knowing that the rest of that bollar pack would come for him when we left, when he would be utterly defenseless. The pack would tear him apart. Pero knew it and so did I, and the horror of this knowing made me ill.
I did not envy Ven'Ta his task. Intellectually, I knew that such sacrifices were necessary, but it felt so wrong. We couldn't risk the entire clan for one member, no matter who that person was. But, how do you convince a woman to leave her beloved behind knowing the kind of brutal end that awaits him?
I reached the bollar and went to help Jo'Lin with hers. She had already removed the bristled hide and scraped it clean. There was plenty of flesh to carve from the animal's bones. The smell of coppery blood once again washed over me. My stomach lurched. I swallowed hard to keep from vomiting. The sight of the beast’s skinless body, so raw and similar to the inside of the wounds on Pero's legs, made me shiver. Steeling myself, I knelt by the body and began harvesting the meat. I wanted to hack at this creature who cost our clan two good lives, but that would do nothing except ruin the flesh, and we needed the meat. Breathing through my mouth helped me tolerate the smell, but did nothing to numb my emotions.
I cut in silence, my tears a portent of what was coming. After the meat was removed, we harvested the teeth and the claws to be used for cutting implements or clothing and gear fasteners. We made a sling of the skin and wrapped everything up inside it. Since Lin had a young one, I took the meat, in addition to my pack. With this kill, we would make it to the Divide without running short. It was a poor exchange for the lives of two good men, but there was nothing for it.
The suns were only beginning their descent in the sky by the time we finished the tasks that had so unexpectedly been thrust upon us. Many hours of light remained for travel. The clan gathered together in silence. Ven'Ta finally spoke.
"As many of you know, Pero'Pero is wounded. He cannot travel. He chooses life. By our laws, we leave him to find his way as best he can. May the Wanderer and the Hunter watch over him and keep him safe."
I mouthed the prayer of the Wanderer and followed Ven'Ta away. We were not supposed to look back, but I did anyway. Pero sat straight and tall, facing away from us, spear in hand. I ran to catch up with the clan.
Night fell on a quiet camp. Small groups of people huddled together, sharing stories and memories of Pero'Pero and Anto'Ces in soft voices. I listened and thought about my own memories of the two men. Ces taught me and several other youngsters how to fashion and use a spear and sling. I was hopelessly, embarrassingly clumsy when I was younger, but he had always patiently helped me, without a word of teasing.
My favorite memory of Pero was from when he was courting Li. He picked her flowers while we traveled—creamy white blossoms for her to wear in her hair. As Li walked and ran, she perfumed the air around her with a delicate, sweet smell. Sometimes, Li and Pero simply walked hand in hand. The memory of how they looked at each other haunted me the most. Li was Pero’s whole world and he was hers. I wanted that kind of love from a mate, one day.
But then, seeing such grief, I wondered if my sister was wiser than I. Perhaps finding a mate whom you could get along with, but not love deeply, was safer for the
heart. I sighed. All life was risk. Wasn't it better to love than to never feel the deep joy I had witnessed in one couple’s eyes?
Late in the evening, my mother made her way to our fire. She looked worn out. The laugh lines around her lips and eyes had changed their track, deepened by sorrow. She had tended Lor'Li until the grieving woman had fallen asleep. Mother sat between Lasa and I, throwing another grass twist onto the small fire. The lingering heat from the day made a fire unnecessary, but then, tonight’s fire wasn't about warmth.
I tried to find something to say, but no words would come. Li and Pero had only been mated for one cycle of the seasons, I realized. They had met at a Gathering last spring and he had left his clan to be with her. I had thought for sure that Li was going to refuse to leave Pero's side. If it had been me and the man I loved, the clan would have to forcibly drag me away.
"She is with child," my mother murmured. How had she known what I was thinking? My mother stared deeply at the flickering blue flames, oblivious to my surprised glance. "She has lost her mate and grieves, but she carries in her his lineage. He will go on through that child. He will not be forgotten."
"If it was my mate, I would not have left him," my sister said. Fire blazed in my mother's pupils.
"You would sacrifice yourself and your future child to die with a doomed mated? You would waste your life in that manner?"
Lasa looked down in shame. My mother sighed.
"It is not a choice I would wish on anyone: to leave the one you love or to stay and die with them. The Hunter does not look kindly on squandering the gifts He bestows. Sacrificing your life..." Her voice trailed off but there was no need to say anymore.
"At least, being with child, she has something to live for," I offered. My mother's small smile was tinged with sorrow. Only then I remembered that once, long ago, our mother had to make the same choice as Lor'Li. Two seasons later, I was born. She never took a mate again.
"Yes," she said, running a hand over my loose hair. "Now, rest. Day comes early."
I nodded and rolled up in my sleeping fur, staring out into the darkness. My last memory of Pero flashed behind my eyes, his back straight and strong as he sat alone. Did he still live? Had he fought to stay alive a little longer in the hopes he would heal and be able to return to us? Foolish to hope. Very few survived to return to the clans. I prayed to the Hunter that Pero’s death be quick and merciful.
I turned over and resettled into my sleeping fur. My thoughts would not let me be. Would I abandon my mate if he couldn't travel? Would I go against tradition and the Gods' will and stay with him, knowing it would probably kill us both? How could doing the right thing sometimes feel so wrong? I pushed away the unanswerable questions and focused on quieting my mind. I closed my eyes and counted my breaths. Eventually, sleep found me.
2
I woke early, well before Ahuna and Anari pierced the horizon. Snarling bollar had prowled and lunged for hours in my nightmares. I said a prayer for Pero and wiped the tears from my eyes. I lay in the darkness and tried not to think about him until the suns' rise demanded that I start another day.
I noticed many weary faces as I struggled through my morning routine of filling our water bags, washing my face, and restocking the travel pouches. I wasn't the only one who had a hard night: Our clan was quiet like the hush before a storm. Even the children remained unusually subdued. The loss from yesterday weighed on us all, as did the knowledge that if we didn't reach the sea soon for the northern crossing, more of our clan would be lost. Perhaps all.
I listened as Ven'Ta walked through our camp, giving quiet words of hope and encouragement. A good chief. Ven'Ta always seemed so calm and centered. He knew his way on the land and how to find watering holes in places most men would have missed. Ta'Bor, too, was listening to his father, walking beside him but saying nothing. As I watched them move, it struck me how similar they were and how different at the same time. Ven'Ta was a well-formed man in his prime. His bronze skin remained smooth still despite the weathering of years and sun. He wore his hair cropped short. Only the silver strands among the black marked his age.
Ta'Bor had the same gleaming bronze skin, but he must have inherited the rest of his looks from his mother, who died before I was born. His hair was dark brown, like his eyes. He had the shorter, unfinished build of a young man who was still growing. He was an attractive young man, I acknowledged. Despite that, I was embarrassed to admit to myself now that I'd had a crush on him when I was younger. These days, Ta'Bor's character rubbed me wrong. Where I found strength and conviction from his father, I only felt criticism from Ta'Bor. I felt like I could never do anything right in his eyes.
I realized suddenly that he was always Ta'Bor in my head, never simply Bor. I always thought of him by his full name. It struck me as strange. But I supposed it was because he was the chief's son. I thought of Ven'Ta by his full name also. That was out of respect, though.
As I watched father and son walking among the clan and making small gestures, I considered something else about Ta'Bor that I had not dwelled upon before. As the chief's son, he was destined to be our next chief, and he was being trained for that duty. This morning, I saw a young man who was taking that responsibility seriously. It made me feel a little better about him and the future of our clan.
But then Ta’Bor glanced my way. One corner of his lips quirked up as if say, “Why aren't you working?” I sighed. I didn't know why he always had to make me feel like I wasn't good enough, but I had grown sick of the constant silent criticism. It wasn't as if he were perfect. He could be unthinkingly cruel and, when angry, he had a quick sharp tongue. Perhaps I would be wiser to find a mate and a new clan to follow before Ta’Bor became our chief.
As we began to move out, one of the children dropped and burst their water bag. We delayed long enough for it to be repaired and refilled and then started on our way. But that burst water bag was just the first thing to go wrong that morning. By midmorning, we reached our first watering hole of the day. Dry. Just parched dirt and dust. Ven'Ta's lips tightened, but he said nothing. We jogged on. After a time, it became too hot to run and Ven'Ta slowed us to a fast walk. We had to conserve our energy and water.
As the heat soared, so did tempers. Snapped arguments broke out between clan members. At suns' high, we arrived at our second watering hole. Empty. We pushed onward, despite the dangerous heat. We had to reach more water. At the third dry watering hole, Ven'Ta stopped us for a time. To continue pushing on in this heat would be courting heat shock. He told us to rest. Conserve our strength and water as much as possible. We sat in what little shade could be found from the tall grass and waited for the day to start to cool.
Again, arguments broke out. Hot and tired, I rested my head on my knees, listening to the sharp bickering among adults and whining among the children. I wished for a cooling breeze. I regretted all the times I grumbled about traveling in wet or cold weather. Rain would be a blessing, but no rain would come until the autumn storms.
"Move over," my sister said, pushing into my sparsely shaded space.
"What was wrong with where you were sitting?" I asked, shoving back to keep my shade.
"This spot is better. Why don't you go over to where I was sitting?"
"Why should I? I was here first."
"I'm the eldest. You'll give me this spot if I want it. Now move."
"No," I said, preparing to defend myself and my spot. I hated when she tried to boss me around. I was her sister, not her subordinate.
"Enough" our mother said, annoyance making her voice sharp as a blade. "Share."
I clamped my mouth shut to keep the words better left unspoken from lashing my sister. Grudgingly, I gave up part of my spot to Lasa, turning my back on her. It took all my willpower not to elbow her to maintain my space, especially when she continued to crowd and prod me.
We stayed until Anari left the sky. Not long after, the temperature dropped enough that our chief decided to press onwar
d. Tired and frustrated, the Wanderer finally smiled down on us. When Ahuna was low in the sky, Ven'Ta found a small stream hidden deep in the dying grass. Mindful that predators might be watching for easy prey, we set guards and made sure to have a good fire that night made of knots of twisted grass. It took many twists and a lot of hands to build the fire up. We had to clear the surrounding land well. It was too dry for any mistakes and yet we needed the fire for safety.
Only the hungriest beasts would risk approaching the fire for food, but considering the lack of water and herds, a bollar pack could easily be enticed to attack. Uneasiness hung over our camp and wore on our stretched-thin nerves. We all huddled together, close to the fire like children afraid of the dark. Several times that night I awoke, hearing the yips and growls of animals outside our camp. But, none, thank the Wanderer, came close enough to kill or be killed.
Waking up the next day, knowing there was water nearby was a huge boost to clan morale. As we packed up camp, the Watch standers told tall tales, bragging to the children about the fearsome beasts they had fended off throughout the night. They were trying to make the little ones feel safer, after having experienced such a gruesome attack and the loss of two clan members.
I had once been an impressionable child too. I recalled sitting by many flickering blue fires, listening to the hunters and Watch Standers’ impossible stories of fighting off bollar and hotar. I remember feeling safe and protected back then, cuddled under my mother's arm with Grandmother's warm hip next to mine. Lasa sat on Mother's other side resting her head on Mother's shoulder. What a long time ago that was. And in the years since, I had learned that no hunter was invincible, and loss was a part of our lives. For a moment, I envied the children and wished I could go back to that innocent time.
