“Do you not want to?” he asked her.
“Yes, I want to,” she said. “But I also want to watch you. Come into me like this; I will raise my legs.”
Uncertain of the way, Anin knelt before his mate and positioned himself between her legs. There were some awkward moments as he tried to find her sex, but once he was inside her he found their movements so pleasurable, and the smile on her face so delightful, that his satisfaction was very soon complete. But when he began to withdraw from her, she held him: “No, don’t stop,” she urged him. “I don’t want to stop yet.”
When she would not let him go, Anin tried to tell her that he was finished.
“But I am not,” she said. “Please don’t stop. It feels so good.”
From this Anin realized that his happiness did not guarantee her happiness, and he continued until she was satisfied even though his own passion had been all but spent by his ejaculation. Then the two lovers lay back on the grass and slept, each dreaming of the contentment that grew stronger within them with each sun. When they again stirred themselves, it was time to return to the mamateek. First they were careful to hide the food under piles of rocks to keep it from predators. Then, leaving the tapatook beside the lake with the paddle in it, they took the path back down to the seashore. At the first bend in the path they heard snorting and saw Gashu-Uwith watching them from the direction of the cold. Anin smiled and said to Woasut:
“Look, my spirit protector. He must have been a member of my family when he was an Addaboutik.”
Woasut let out a loud shriek of laughter that seemed to frighten Gashu-Uwith, and he ran off in the direction of the cold.
“Your family frightens easily,” she said to Anin. “He’s not very brave for a spirit protector.”
As they passed the pond created by a beaver dam, Anin saw a mamchet gnawing at the base of a birch. Taking his bow, he put an arrow through it and watched as the animal fell over backwards and then tried to run back into the safety of the pond. But death came to him too quickly, and he stopped some distance from the water. One more skin to make jackets, and more meat for the cold season. He picked up the dead animal and slung it over his shoulder, holding it by its scaly tail. Then he continued down the path behind Woasut.
Just as they reached the mamateek, Anin smelled an unfamiliar odour and stopped, signalling to Woasut to remain still. They waited a long time, every sense alert. Something was happening, and Anin could not see what it was. The mamateek was not visible from the bay, which gave them an advantage over intruders. The odour was becoming stronger. Anin still could not identify it, but he knew that it was not normal. His eyes swept along the coastline below them, and eventually he discerned the outline of a sealskin boat pulled up at the base of a cliff. Ashwans! And very close, although they apparently had not found the mamateek. Before deciding what to do, Anin had to know how many of them there were. He waited patiently for what seemed a long time. The sun had now circled behind them, and the bay was in the shadow of the cliffs. Soon they would not be able to see their enemies if they came up towards the mamateek. Still they waited, crouched behind a fallen log a dozen or more steps from the mamateek. Night fell and darkness surrounded them, but there was no sound, no stirring of the wind, no rustling of nocturnal birds; it was as though they, too, feared the Ashwans.
Anin felt his heart pounding against his breast and thought it was so loud it was drowning out all other natural sounds of the night. Of course there was no question of sleeping with the enemy so near, perhaps ready to strike. Time passed in an endless and agonizing wait. Woasut moved very slightly to prevent herself from becoming numb, and Anin cautioned her not to make a sound. But there was no one else about that night. Night is for resting, for Ashwans as well as for other men. Ashwans have to sleep. Where else would they be? Why didn’t they return to their boat? What were they up to? Unable to wait any longer, Anin signalled to Woasut to stay where she was, and stood up. He waited until his blood began circulating properly in his veins again, chasing the numbness away, and then, with infinite caution, moved forward very slowly without stepping on twigs that would snap and give him away. His goal was the sealskin boat that was pulled up to the trees, well above the shoreline. It took him forever to reach a place in the bush from which he could see the boat clearly. Then he stopped and listened, assuring himself that there was no one nearby. The odour that had warned him of the Ashwans’ presence was stronger here, and at last he could identify it: it was Gashu-Uwith’s excrement. And it smelled fresh. But why had Gashu-Uwith been down here with the Ashwans? Before going out to take a closer look at the sealskin boat, Anin moved further along the shore in the shelter of the trees. The smell of bear scat grew stronger. There was something about it that made it smell like that of Anin’s own people. Anin knelt down to get a better view of the ground. The moon had appeared and a soft glow illumined the night. Very near him, Anin saw two human shapes lying on the ground. One was on its stomach, the other on its back, its throat torn open. On the corpse with the ragged throat was a pile of Gashu-Uwith’s excrement. The bear had obviously surprised the two Ashwans, and killed the first by grabbing him by the throat, and the second by completely eviscerating him. What surprised Anin most was that the bear had not eaten the bodies. Never in living memory had a bear attacked a human except when it was starving or wounded and incapable of hunting. But never at this time of the season-cycle, when there was plenty of fresh fruit, fish, and an abundance of small animals. Gashu-Uwith was fat and obviously not starving. A bear would attack a human to protect its young, but again, by the falling-leaf season their young no longer needed protection. Anin could only conclude that the bear had attacked the Ashwans out of anger.
“Is he really my spirit protector?” Anin wondered. “Or should I be worried for myself and Woasut? When we met him on the path, Woasut had frightened him off with her laughter. Was he trying to tell us what he had been doing here?”
Still being careful not to make a sound, Anin returned to Woasut and told her quietly what he had seen, and suggested that they take turns sleeping to ensure that they were not attacked during the night. Woasut could sleep first watch and then Anin. They would decide what to do in the morning.
When the sun was in the sky, Woasut awakened Anin and they went down to the Ashwan bodies. They dragged the corpses to the sealskin boat, lifted them inside, and when the tide was at its highest, pushed the boat as far as possible out to sea, so far that it would not wash up again in the bay. Then they quickly dismantled the mamateek, rolling the poles and bark into two large bundles, which they carried up to their clearing by the lake. Then they returned to the bay and removed every trace of their presence. Marks in the ground that they could not erase they covered with heavy stones. Then, when they were satisfied, they left the bay, telling themselves they would never return to it unless it was absolutely necessary. They must not attract the attention of anyone who might come looking for the dead Ashwans.
8
The calm life of sedentary people reigned in the little valley where the Addaboutik and the Beothuk were preparing for the cold season. Their daily routines filled their entire waking time, despite the rain that often marked this part of the falling-leaf season. Anin hunted Mamchet the Beaver, Kosweet the Caribou, and Odusweet the Rabbit, and set snares and nets for Zoozoot the Hare and the fish in the lake. Woasut skinned the game, dried and smoked the meat, stored it in bark containers, made warm clothing from the hides, and insulated the mamateek with dried moss. She worked hard to make their dwelling as comfortable as possible for the time of snow and deep cold. Just before nightfall she also collected armloads of dead wood and stacked it close to their dwelling. Some of it she would use to dry and smoke the meat, the rest she would use later to warm the mamateek.
One morning Woasut suggested to Anin that he hunt a bear, because she would need grease for the cold season. For the first time, Anin erupted into anger, to the great astonishment of his companion.
“Do you want
me to kill my brother as well?” he demanded. “Gashu-Uwith saved you from the Ashwans, and now you want to make bear grease out of him?”
Woasut said nothing, understanding her error. She had forgotten that Anin thought of Gashu-Uwith as his spirit protector, which made the bear a member of his immediate family, equal in status to his brothers and sisters, uncles and cousins. She did not dare to suggest another fat-laden animal, such as Appawet the Seal, for fear of re-igniting Anin’s anger. She did not even venture to change the subject by telling him that she was carrying Meseeliguet, and that he would be a father when the snow melted and the first flowers began to appear. She feared Anin’s anger in the same way she feared the Ashwans who had slain her people. She could not explain this sense of fear; she felt her heart tremble in its presence. She remembered the words of her mother: “You must never provoke those who provide food for the clan.”
That morning Anin left without saying another word to her. He took his spear and his fishing net, his bow and quiver of arrows, tied them to the centre thwart of his tapatook and carried it on his shoulders along the path that led down to the seashore. Woasut was sorry she had asked him to kill Gashu-Uwith. Now he was going to hunt where there was the risk of encountering Ashwans or the Bouguishamesh, and not coming back. She understood that when a man is angry he is less careful than when he is calm, and places himself in greater danger. She also knew that a momentary lapse of caution or a misplaced step could result in her being alone to face the cold season, the birth of her child, and all the dangers of the world that surrounded her. Suddenly she felt as afraid as when the Ashwans were chasing her, trying to kill her. She was as afraid as she had been the first time she heard Washi Weuth, the night spirit, the god of thunderstorms. Washi Weuth the unknown one, the mysterious one, he without body who could smother thought on long, sleepless nights. Washi Weuth, the enemy of female Beothuk children, whom even the male children hated. Washi Weuth, whose name no one dared say aloud for fear of calling forth his dreaded apparition. Now Woasut regretted her words so much that she could not sit passively by the mamateek waiting for Anin to return. Seizing her own fishing spear, she ran down the path towards the seashore. She must go to Anin and soothe his anger before something bad happened to him. She must find him and help him to fulfill the task he set himself when he left in the direction of the sea. She knew she could overtake him, because he was carrying the tapatook on his shoulders. Even though it was not heavy, it was awkward on the path and would slow him down. It was always getting caught in branches and bumping against trees, and Anin would have to cross the stream many times, hopping from rock to rock. Woasut walked quickly, sometimes running to catch up with the only other human being left in her life. She ran to meet the father of her child, who would be born from their chance union, to rejoin the man who had saved her from the Ashwans. She ran to be with the man she had come to respect. She was almost at the seashore and yet she had not caught up with him. She was suddenly afraid again. Rushing out onto the beach, she saw Anin untying his weapons from the tapatook’s thwart, preparing to launch the craft into the water. She shouted to him:
“Wait for me! I am coming with you!”
Anin stopped what he was doing and stood up, surprised to see his companion running towards him. When she reached him she stopped and stood directly before him.
“I will paddle while you hunt. It will be easier that way.”
She knew that he was intending to hunt for a seal in order to provide her with the fat she needed to cook and preserve the fresh meat. For the whole of that sun they paddled among the rocks of the bay, searching for basking seals and not finding a single one. When darkness came, they landed, made a fire, and then sat looking blankly at each other before bursting into laughter. Neither of them had thought to bring food. Woasut took a burning branch from the fire and searched for the breathing holes of clams in the sand, and Anin, using another branch, dug them up when she pointed to the right spots. They completed their evening meal with a few sea cucumbers. Then they lay down to sleep, but without blankets they awoke frequently to put more wood on the fire. Still they were cold. There was a hard frost that night, and even though they were sheltered from the wind, the first cold night of the season is always the hardest to bear.
In the morning they returned to the water and searched the bays. This time they found many seals stretched out lazily on the rocks where the waves foamed over them. Some of the younger animals, curious to see what strange new creature had entered their territory, swam out and rubbed against the tapatook. Woasut paddled in the stern while Anin, braced on his knees in the narrow bow, waited for the right moment to strike with his amina. Suddenly, the head of a young seal appeared above the surface of the water, and at the same moment the spear plunged into its throat. As it dove, Anin let the cord attached to the spear’s shaft float freely so that the panicked seal would not capsize the tapatook. When a blossom of blood rose to the surface, Anin knew that he would not have to wait long before pulling in the line. Gradually the seal stopped struggling, and Anin hauled it over the side of the tapatook. He made an incision in the animal’s lower jaw and passed the free end of the amina’s cord through it. Then he untied the amina and tossed the cord to Woasut, who caught it and tied it to the tapatook’s stern thwart so that they could drag the seal to the bay at the base of the path that led to their mamateek. Slowly they paddled together. They were both much more tired than they realized, and the return journey took a long time. They paddled in silence.
When they arrived at the bay, the wind had come up and snow began to fall in large flakes. It was the first snowfall of the cold season. When they landed, Anin tied his weapons to the centre thwart and lifted the tapatook onto Woasut’s back. He carried the seal. Woasut reached the winter camp before him, having the lighter load, and had already begun to prepare their first and only meal of that sun when Anin arrived. After eating the dried meat and drinking the sweet water, Anin gutted the seal and hung it from a stout tree branch so that Woasut could drain the oil from it the next sun. Then they slept, exhausted from the sun’s hunting and the long portage. That night they were not cold, wrapped as they were in their warm caribou blankets and huddled close together in the mamateek.
9
The snow had covered the ground since the time of the full moon, but it was still not very cold. The white mantle that blanketed the earth each season-cycle was not yet thick enough to make their snowshoes necessary. Anin began to be worried that he had not seen Kosweet the Caribou in these parts. He knew that the caribou took to the forests and the mountain valleys for food as soon as the snow became so deep that it covered the moss on the plateaux. Their winter camp was in a perfect spot for Odusweet, which Anin found in abundance, but it was not good to eat too much rabbit, since there was not enough fat in the meat to provide protection from the cold. Too much rabbit also caused an ache in the stomach, and made you empty yourself too often. It also made pregnant women sick, so that they would often lose their babies.
Ptarmigan was also plentiful in their area and partly made up for the lack of red meat. Aoujet the Ptarmigan was so unafraid of the Addaboutik that Anin could almost catch him with his bare hands. But Anin was fully aware of how wise he had been to choose a winter camp close to a lake, for Dattomesh the Trout gave Woasut the nourishment she needed for the baby she was carrying. But to get him she had to prevent the hole in the lake’s winter covering from freezing over; a single sun’s inattention and the ice would be too thick for her to break. They would have to use large, pointed rocks tied to handles made from the wood of the softwood trees that lost their needles in the cold season. This tamarack wood is very heavy, and makes for hard work.
The time had come to increase the size of the territory they hunted. They would have to risk encroaching on land occupied by other inhabitants if they were to procure a greater variety of game. Woasut now spent her suns maintaining the fire, keeping the fishing hole free of ice, making regular trips to the permanently insta
lled net to remove any trout that became caught in it, and completing the warm clothing she had been making from animal skins. She also softened the fur blankets that would keep her child warm when it was born in the growing season.
Anin finished the front curve on the snowsled he was making from the wood of the by-yeetch, or birch tree. This wood bent easily even in the cold season; no matter how roughly cut the strips were, the snowsled was strong and easy to pull. He tied a cord to it made from plant roots oiled and braided by Woasut before the first snowfall. Now he was ready for his journey of exploration. He told Woasut that he would leave the next morning at sunrise, and that he would be gone for several suns. She would have to keep an eye on the provisions to keep scavengers away from the meat.
“I see you are making clothes for a baby,” he said to her with a smile. “Is your sister pregnant?”
“You were so angry I did not dare to tell you,” she said quietly.
The Beothuk Saga Page 5
