by Karen Pepin
"Enough," Ta'Bor said, not unkindly, as Cendran finished up his story. Ta'Bor waved us all off to finish our tasks. We all drank as much as our bellies could hold and filled our water bags. Then we were off, hopes running high. I hitched up my extra burden of bollar meat as I jogged. Ahead of me, I could hear Col'Ses and Ved making jokes, eliciting chuckles from my clan mates.
As the clear morning wore on, I noticed the air growing oddly cooler instead of warmer. The suns' brightness began to grow dim, like when a storm rushes across the sky to block the light. There wasn't a cloud in the sky. Then I noticed smaller Anari slip behind her sister sun, Ahuna. The eclipse, I realized with a jolt. Another sun cycle was ending. The eclipse occurred every twenty-nine days, but I had carelessly lost track. The eclipse was more than a marker of time. It was a reminder of our past. Ven'Ta called a halt. We gathered around him.
"Today, we give thanks to the Wanderer for His many blessings and we pray for His understanding that we must continue on our journey when we should be contemplating His greatness. Before we continue, while only one sun shines in the sky, we will hear the story of the Wanderer. Elder, if you will honor us?"
Ven'Ta gestured to Neri'Hera to take his place. She, the eldest of our clan, stepped forward. The golden light of Ahuna changed her silvered hair to a younger shade of gold and hid the wrinkles in her sun-leathered skin.
Hera cleared her throat, took a swallow from her water bag, and began to speak.
"This is the story, as I was taught it, passed down throughout the ages. A long time ago, the Wanderer left his home to travel the stars. After centuries passed, He began to tire of travel, and missed having a home of his own. He met Ahuna then, and her younger sister, shy Anari. The sisters led Him to this place. His followers, who braved the stars, trailed behind Him, thankful to find a new home as well. But because this world was so different than anything the Wanderer’s followers had known, they feared they would not survive it. They prayed to Him for aid. So, the Wanderer taught them the secrets of how to survive in this new home, by traveling to avoid the heat and cold of the seasons in their turn, and to keep up with the katerri herds. And to this day, we follow in the footsteps that He laid out so long ago. And that is the story of the Wanderer and our people."
"Thanks be to the Wanderer," she concluded.
"The Wanderer."
There was a long moment of silence.
"And now, we must press on. May the Wanderer watch over us and keep us safe," Ven'Ta said, placing a hand on Hera's shoulder and giving her a nod of thanks. He turned and gestured for us to move out. I watched my mother climb painfully to her feet. I could see her knees were bothering her again. My legs had tightened up while I sat to hear Hera's words. I stood and stretched briefly, hoping to loosen the muscles before having to run again. Then I picked up my pack and the bollar meat, stifling a groan from the added weight.
Our clan normally would not travel during the eclipse. During that holy time, we would typically rest and contemplate the Wanderer's hand and how it guided our lives. However, with our precarious situation—the coming heat and lack of water and herds—a rare exception was made. Neri'Hera assured us all that in this situation, the Wanderer would undoubtedly frown upon His children for wasting precious time contemplating His glory when the need to travel was critical. Besides, the air would be far cooler with only one sun shining down, giving us a needed respite from the oppressive heat.
We had to reach the sea. The truth of that was driving us all. The urgency to move hummed in our bones, pressing us onward. That little voice inside us that insisted we keep traveling, that whispered, “hurry, hurry” when we slowed our pace, now howled within us. As we moved on, I prayed: Please let us find the Divide and soon. Please guide us, your children, on our journey and keep us safe.
We traveled on, heat rising once again as Anari returned to the sky. We found only one other useful watering hole. After that, the day seemed to stretch on without end. Weary and hot, I focused on putting one foot in front of the other. I had little energy for anything else.
A warm breeze rose, ruffling the dry, tall grass and briefly sending chills across my sweat-soaked scalp. The faint but pungent smell of salt water drifted on that slow puff of air. I closed my eyes and inhaled. The sea. Blessed Wanderer. It could not be far off. My shoulders ached from the extra burden of meat I carried in my pack, but I felt renewed simply knowing the sea was close. Without a word, we all picked up the pace.
The dying grassland ended abruptly, changing to hard, green-flecked, gray stone as we came to a high cliff edge that towered over the narrow beach at its base. From this height, I could see the sandy turquoise shallows stretching out from shore and dropping off sharply into a blue-black abyss of the Deeps. The Great Divide. The crashing of waves muted my sigh. We'd made it. Now we just needed to cross.
3
In the morning, we traveled westward along the high cliffs toward Crossing Point, a peninsula that jutted out to the north into the Great Divide. Our canoes would be waiting for us there. All the clans stored their canoes in a deep cave located part way down the switchback trail that led to the beach.
I yawned as I trotted along. I'd slept well, lulled by the rhythmic sound of the waves and wind, but was still weary. Both suns shone brightly in the clear sky, their light flashing off the moving water far below. I had forgotten how beautiful the Great Divide was. In protected coves, the blue-green water lapped gray-gold beaches. The water in the shallows was so clear that, even from this high up, I could see waving clumps of kelp and piles of rocks dotting the sandy bottom. I looked further out. Beyond the coves, the sea floor dropped off sharply. The water turned an almost-purple dark blue. White-capped waves surged with the current there, in the Deeps. To reach the Northern lands, we would have to battle our way across the swift-moving channel without being washed too far down the coast.
I was not the only one to venture too closely to the cliff's edge to admire the view as we traveled. Ven'Ta's sharp whistle reminded us throughout the morning to keep our distance. In many places, the cliff dropped straight down to the beach and rocks below. If someone accidentally slipped, or if the eroding dirt and stone collapsed under our many feet, no one would survive the fall. Ven'Ta found a trickling stream for us to drink from and fill our bags. The water tasted crisp and clear, not muddied or thick from the red earth that contaminated the drying, inland streams.
Near midday, a shout pulled my attention away from the hypnotic view of the sea. I shielded my eyes with my hand to see. A figure near the front of our group was pointing to the Crossing Point in the distance. The cliffs curved out toward the north sharply, rising above the sea like the hook of a bollar claw. It would take the rest of the day to reach our destination. I hitched up my pack and the dwindling bag of bollar meat. Despite the lack of rest, knowing we were close gave us all hope and energy. We continued on.
Crossing Point offered us the best and safest location from which to leave for our journey north. It also made a good landing site when we came south. I gazed across the water. In the distance, I could see the northern lands as a slim line on the horizon. Just as the peninsula here stretched deep into the Great Divide, a similar one pointed southward from the northern lands farther to our east. We always crossed at the narrowest section of the Divide, between the opposing peninsulas where the channel twisted like a slithersnake.
Twice during the cycle of seasons, we crossed the Great Divide. Each time filled me with terror and wonder. Despite the reality of how late we were in our trek, I wondered if we would run into another clan preparing for their own crossing. It had happened before. And which clan would we might meet up with at the Gathering on the far side? I hoped to see some new faces. But, first we had to cross.
If a crossing went well, we would leave from the protected shallows and land on the long ribbon of beach on the leeward side of the peninsula in the northern lands. A bad landing meant being pushed far down the coast, well away from the c
hosen spot. When that happened, those clan members would have to carry their canoe all the way back. The clans' Gathering meadow sat on a bluff on that peninsula. We also had a storage cave for our canoes in the north, although not as big or deep as the southern one.
The Elders told stories about what lay beyond the Great Divide. If you rode the swift current and failed to land, you would reach the Great Ocean beyond, an endless body of water. No one had traveled to the Great Ocean since long before my lifetime, and then only because of a catastrophic crossing. The land there was hilly and heavily forested, not someplace where many katerri roamed. Additionally, the time and dangers involved in returning to the Gathering clearing over such a distance convinced even the most curious and adventurous among the clans to avoid such a mistake. According to the stories, only one person survived the trip back the last time a canoe was washed that far away.
I followed my mother as we made our way onto the peninsula. Ven'Ta had slowed us to a fast walk so we could spot the start of the switchback that led down to the beach. Behind me, I could hear Lasa chattering animatedly with Kissa'Arow and Meri'Chal about the upcoming Gather. Even Chal'Lina warbled her excitement from her mother's arms as we traveled.
Late in the afternoon, Ven'Ta called a stop at the head of the trail. We gathered around, but not too close. Ven'Ta spoke softly with his son. Our chief’s mouth tightened, and deep lines spread across his forehead. Landslides and heavy rain had washed out several sections of the path since the last time we had taken it. Ven'Ta nodded and put his hand on his son's shoulder. Ta'Bor strode to the edge and started down the trail.
The clan watched as Ta’Bor navigated the first big slide. The loose red soil and gray-green rocks slid out from under his feet as he scrambled his way across. Once he made it safely to the other side, he continued down to the cave that sat one-third of the way down the trail. Ta’Bor waved at us then, gesturing for us to follow.
"The path looks rough," Ven'Ta said. "Keep space between yourself and the person in front of you."
He started us down, sending the ones with children, like Meri'Chal and Jo'Lin, between unburdened adults so they could help hand the children across the gaps. Mother smiled at me and started down. I took a slow three-count and then followed her cautiously. Lasa would come behind me.
As I approached the first gap, I slowed to examine it better. Up close, it looked farther across than it did from up on the bluff. I considered taking a leap, when Lasa shoved her way past me.
"You're taking too long," she said. I teetered on the narrow path. Col'Ses grabbed my arm and kept me from falling.
"You all right?" he asked, frowning at my sister's back.
"Yes. Thank you," I said. Ses released me.
"Need help across?" he said. I appreciated his offer, but felt my cheeks heat with embarrassment. Only children needed to be handed across.
"I've got it," I said with more confidence than I felt. Adrenalin rushed through me. My hands and legs shook. After a moment, I made my way, digging my feet and hands into the soft dirt to help give me a grip on the slope. I sighed with relief when I reached the far side.
The rest of the trail down to the cave was only in slightly better shape: it narrowed in a couple places, and I knew those sections might slide away as well if they weren't shored up soon. Thankfully, we were probably the last clan to have to make the crossing. Because we were already behind schedule, we would have no time for trail repair.
I stopped outside the cave, behind my sister. Ta'Bor gestured me to come forward, around my sister. She blocked me.
"Lasa, I want you to wait and help carry the next canoe. Ani, take paddles down," Ta'Bor said, his voice sharp. Paddles usually went down separately from the canoes so that there wasn't a chance they'd be dropped if the canoe slipped or tilted in its carriers’ hands. The paddles were usually a job for the youngest or oldest in the clan, or those who had children to take down.
"Let her do the canoe. I'm next," Lasa said.
"You nearly knocked her off the path shoving by her as you did," Ta'Bor stated. I could feel Ses behind me and more clan mates starting to line up behind him.
"She was too slow," Lasa argued. "Don't you trust her to carry a canoe?"
Ta'Bor's face took on an ugly reddish hue, but he kept his voice even when he said, "I'm simply reminding you that the clan succeeds by working together to reach our goals. Not by focusing on ourselves over the good of all."
Lasa jerked as if Ta’Bor had struck her.
"Ani," he ordered, pointing to the cave. I scooted around Lasa. A small fire right inside the entryway offered enough light to see by, but the smoke was already growing thick. I began to cough as I picked up three long paddles. After juggling them and my spear for a moment, I picked up a fourth, wanting to prove I could carry just as well as anybody.
I managed to slip out of the cave gracefully. Clear air washed over me. No wonder Ta'Bor waited outside giving orders. I risked a glance at my sister before pinning my eyes back on the path below my feet. Bright red splotches painted her cheeks and her eyes flashed. I started down. There were five switchbacks between the cave to the beach. The first one was no problem, but the trail narrowed on the next and then came a dirt slide.
By the time I reached the gap in the path, I realized that I shouldn't have tried to prove my worth by taking so many paddles. The group behind me, with a canoe and my sister, was a switchback away. The canoes were heavy. I couldn’t hold them up, but the paddles kept sliding in my grip. I quickly twisted my pack strap around their ends and tucked them under my left arm, away from the hill. I'd rather have both hands to cross with, but this would have to do. I dug my right hand and both feet into the soft hillside, struggling to stay upright when the dirt slid, but I made it across. I hurried on, hoping to increase the space between me and the following canoe, giving me more time where I needed it, on the damaged spots.
On the next switchback, falling rocks and dirt knocked loose from the path above me, struck me. None of the rocks were bigger than my finger nail, but they still stung as they struck my head, neck, and arms. I risked a glance up and saw Lasa and the others in her group maneuvering their canoe over the gap. More dirt cascaded down. I scrambled out of the way. I did not want to be below them if the canoe slipped from their hands.
I had one more gap to cross before reaching the beach. The eroding red-brown earth and tumbled gray rocks had swept away most of the path. Determined to keep well ahead of the others, I leapt, but my legs weren't long enough. Dirt and rocks slid out from under me and I ended up half crawling, half climbing along the steep hillside. I kept my left arm clamped down tight on the paddles, angling them away from the hill. As dirt begin to shift out from under me again, I grabbed at a large, solid looking rock and managed to not slide down to the path below. Red dirt streaked my trembling legs and arms by the time I pulled myself across. I glanced back briefly, giving thanks to the Wanderer for making it. The canoe carriers were almost to the gap I just crossed.
On the next switchback, dirt and rocks rained down on me from the group crossing above me. I ducked my head, but still got a face full of dirt. I blinked at the red dust that near blinded me, using my tears to wash some of the grit away, and hurried onto the rock-studded sand.
I carried my paddles to where Ven'Ta stood. He directed me to a small pile and I placed them carefully on top. Free from my duty, I stumbled over to the gently lapping water of the Divide. I scrubbed my face clean, rinsing the dirt and sweat from my eyes. I had just begun rinsing off my legs and arms in the cool water when the last canoe arrived. I scrubbed quicker.
Ta'Bor came to the water's edge to rinse the dirt off his arms as I finished up.
"You shouldn't have tried to carry four paddles," he said without preamble. Had he been watching me instead of watching the trail or his own canoe crew?
"I was fine," I lied.
"Isn't it better to bring equipment down without mishap than to try and carry too many
and risk dropping or damaging them?" he asked.
I flicked the water from my arms and turned away so Ta’Bor could not see my face. I had suspected that he had given me paddle duty not because Lasa had pushed past me, but because he thought I couldn't handle helping with a canoe. I knew now that I was right. He didn't think I could handle myself or do my duty to the clan. What right did he have to judge me?
"I can carry my weight," I said, snapping my mouth shut before saying anything more. I did not want to continue crossing words with him. Anger would make me utter things best kept silent. I turned and stomped off toward our camp.
"I never said you couldn't," he answered. But I ignored him. Still fuming, I joined my mother as she tried to light the cooking fire. A depressingly small pile of grass twists that we had made the night before sat on the sand beside her. I sighed. I did not want to go back up that path to gather more grass. Apparently, my mother felt the same way.
"See if you can find some driftwood," she said, examining her work before throwing another twist on the fire.
I suppressed a groan. On the bright side, I would not have to climb for more grass—yet. I glanced both ways before deciding which direction would be best. The looming peninsula protected the wide beach from the eroding waves. My best bet for finding wood for our fires would be at the very western and narrowest point of the beach, where the punishing current might wash things ashore.
I did not become less angry with Ta’Bor, or with myself, as I slogged through the soft, loose sand. I had tried to carry too many paddles because I wanted to prove myself. What if I had dropped and broken one or hurt someone on the path below? Or, Wanderer forbid, what if I had knocked my silly self off the path? I had gotten lucky and thanked the Wanderer for His blessings.
My gratitude faded fast though, and I frowned. I had tried to show I was an adult, but instead acted like an impulsive child. Anger towards Ta’Bor surged again: It was his fault I was carrying the paddles in the first place. I could have assisted the group with a canoe.
