Anger rose and followed Fat Hair.
Now it was Thrower on my other side who whispered to me. “You and the other journey wives will need to choose. In the canoe all of us must work, but in camp on shore, this is where trouble can happen.”
When Pretty Face came to the canoe, he was followed by Watcher.
This was a long night.
The next morning, we left the cove under a clear sky.
Something had happened beneath the canoe that night as Fat Hair and Thin Hair spoke, and now everyone was watchful. Long Braid, though married to Fat Hair, did all she could to find peace between Thin Hair and Fat Hair. As his woman, she could say things to Fat Hair that nobody else could say. Long Braid might have been more successful, but Cold Eye, defending Thin Hair, could not remain silent and said things that made Long Braid angry. After this Long Braid stopped trying to make peace.
I knew that whatever might happen, in the eyes of Pretty Face I was an enemy and would be considered part of Thin Hair’s group. Fat Hair did not care, because I had seen that in his mind I was not much of a woman, now or in the future. Long Braid seemed to like me. She spoke to me often, and was kind, taking the time to tell me legends and stories. But she was Fat Hair’s wife. With the two of them bringing home a journey child, her concern for me was tiny compared to her concern for the child growing within her.
I felt alone. This was a familiar feeling.
We paddled day and night. The wind continued. We used the sail. Large waves came from the west, marching, like hills, and the smaller waves driven by the north wind crossed these seas and created a steep rough cross-sea, but the canoe rode well.
My cut finger was sore but did not become hot and deadly. By the second day Thin Hair told me to start paddling with the others. I was able to paddle on the left side, curling my good hand around the shaft and the hand with the cut finger over the top of the paddle and holding steady. The finger hurt but did not start bleeding. We chanted “Hut-hut-hut.” First we saw the high peaks to the left, the snow, and then nothing but water, seas around us, lost in a field of blue. Birds followed, crying out, and Tiny Whales swam with us, playing under the bow, blowing near.
The fourth day, we pulled behind a long, low, tree-covered barrier island, behind which lay calm water. We stopped where a small stream drained the rise running down the center of the island. Anger and Thrower went ashore looking for animal sign and returned to report no animals. The distance from this island to the main shore was not far, and the water was calm. An animal could swim to the island easily. The sun was dropping to the west. To the east, beyond the close water, I saw a plain, and high ice further on. A crescent moon rose.
Thin Hair looked across the water to the mainland, where a river drained into the sea. “It is time for salmon, and the bears will be gathered for the fish. If the fish have come, the bears will be fat and lazy. If the fish have not yet come, the bears will be hungry and there will be many.”
Thin Hair instructed us to beach the canoe. We left the canoe near the water, held by an anchor stone, in case we had to depart quickly. We built a lean-to on the beach and a fire pit. We started a fire. We filled the stomach bags with water. On the highest points nearby, Pretty Face and Thrower were posted to watch the mainland, the water, and the rest of our island. The sun fell toward the sea and the sky turned red.
“Our journey is nearly done.” Thin Hair finished chewing smoked seal meat. “There is one more place we can stop before crossing the last ice wall. Perhaps we will find seals there. We need food.” Thin Hair peered at the moon. “We may reach our home for the same time moon. I have chosen one among you to travel to the Marking Place and record our coming.” He nodded at me as he said this.
“Only if the weather holds,” said Fat Hair. “You have waited too late, Thin Hair.”
“You are the finder, Fat Hair. As finder you chose the way to the headland. If we are late home because we were late making it to the headland, this is not my fault.”
“If the weather turns, we will not arrive.”
“We will arrive.”
At Fat Hair’s end of the lean-to, Long Braid stared at the needlework in her hands. Fat Hair observed Thin Hair with disgust. I was grateful he and Pretty Face were only two against Thin Hair, Thrower, Anger, Watcher, and Bright Eyes.
“If we are late,” said Thin Hair, “when we arrive on our land’s north shore some of us can reach the Marking Place from the north before the equal time moon. This has been done before.”
“Not in our lifetime, Thin Hair.” Fat Hair laughed.
“It can be done. Two or three can travel from there on foot, the rest of us bringing the canoe to our west shore. It is not a long way and we can do it with fewer people.”
Anger spoke to me quietly. “Thin Hair will land on the north shore. He, Thrower, and perhaps I will travel with you to the Marking Place where we will honor the equal time moon. From there, we will go home through the mountains. This way it will be Fat Hair returning in triumph with wives and journey children, but it will be Thin Hair and his son who have taken one of the new wives to the Marking Place. This will mean that while Fat Hair’s return will be a great thing, Thin Hair’s action will be even greater.”
“I am to go to the Marking Place? I am furthest from being a woman of anyone. I am damaged, now missing a finger.”
“It will be you, Strong Heart.” Anger chuckled. “Thin Hair has chosen you to go to the Marking Place. He said so after the cat attacked, when you slept.”
I could now see Thin Hair watching me. He saw me looking and he nodded to me. Thrower was out on watch.
“You choose Thrower. This is what he wants. This is what Thin Hair sees.”
“I am not ready to choose anyone, Anger.”
“Thrower will be patient.”
“His ears are much too big.”
Anger watched me. I could feel my face grow hot.
“Animals. Two.”
Thrower’s call was clear. He had been on watch to the south, a short distance away. I could see his outline against the purple sky. Now he was pointing with his thrower. He was pointing toward the shore. From the other position, we heard Pretty Face.
“In the water. Swimming.”
“Quick.” Thin Hair was already moving.
I saw two patterns in the water, like geese flying, patterns made by small waves. At the point of these waves, I could see bobbing dark heads, each head facing us, one head larger than the other. The smaller head was in front. It was 10 canoe lengths distant, and the other head one canoe length beyond that.
Thrower and Pretty Face ran from their spots back to the lean-to. Long Braid and Anger gathered robes, gesturing to the rest of us to move fast and quickly to load the canoe.
Thin Hair watched the bobbing heads approaching. “A yearling. This young bear is curious and coming to see us. He is hungry and stupid. Behind him is his mother, following. She will be even hungrier, but she will not be stupid. She will die to protect him. Before she dies, many of us will die, too, unless we can paddle clear.” The two bobbing heads approached, trailing whiskers of wake. I could hear the bears breathing. “Hurry.”
We threw everything into the canoe, the robes, the ropes, the food, and the baskets. Thin Hair and Watcher took burning brands from the fire and scattered them along the edge of the water where the bears might land, hoping the smoke and embers might slow them down. Everyone else pushed the canoe into the water after untying the anchor stone.
“Wait. Wait.” Fat Hair turned back to the fire. “The bone pieces.”
He and Long Braid returned to the fire and gathered the bone pieces, including some half-carved throwers. Now they rushed back to the canoe with the tools in their arms. Long Braid tripped, scattering her tools, crying out.
The heads were so close we could see the eyes of the two bears. Once their paws touched the sh
ore, they could set their hind legs and run.
We were out of time.
“The fire,” called Thin Hair. We ran for the fire, in hopes the flames would frighten the bears. Those of us who could use throwers grabbed our darts and prepared to die. Even I found a thrower, one carved of bone.
The animals reached the beach, leaping over the coals and smoking brands, coming our way, the young one running clumsily but fast, the mother coming faster, overtaking.
Long Braid lay on the ground, holding her ankle. Cold Eye and the weepers cowered inside the canoe. Woman Too Soon, Tree Hide, and Rock Hide all grabbed burning torches from the fire, scattering sparks and smoke. Tree Hide and Rock Hide ran fearlessly toward the approaching animals.
The young bear, almost as large as its mother, and almost as fast, veered away from the approaching fire and headed along the beach toward the canoe. The mother did not avoid the fire, but instead came roaring, fur flying, eyes alight, directly at the people holding brands. I threw my dart. We all threw at the bear charging Tree Hide and Rock Hide.
I saw three darts plunge deep into the torso of the animal, and my dart struck the bear’s throat. Yet another entered its open mouth. But she did not falter or slow down. It was as if the darts had been a breath of wind, ruffling the animal’s fur. The bear swept a massive paw through Rock Hide’s burning brand and struck her across the head so hard her head was ripped from her body. Her headless trunk, still on its feet, spouted blood, while the head flew through the air, spinning, then hitting the water.
Tree Hide screamed. The bear now faced her, standing just before the fire. Tree Hide thrust her brand into the bear’s face. The burning brand singed its hair. It shook its head and bellowed, then seemed to become aware of the darts in its torso, throat and mouth. We threw again. Several darts hit the torso, and one passed through the bear’s eye. The bear stood high on its back legs, towering over Tree Hide, towering even over the brand Tree Hide held aloft over her head. Then the bear erupted blood and collapsed.
Just as the mother fell we heard screams from the water. The young bear had leapt inside the canoe as if it was something to play in.
We raced toward the canoe, Thin Hair leading, a dart ready in his thrower. The bear, when leaping into the canoe, had driven it back toward the water. Now the canoe was floating, no longer secured. The canoe rocked and bobbed as the bear grunted and attacked. From inside the canoe, we heard cries. The bear flailed one way, then another. Pretty Face stood behind Thin Hair, thrower ready. Fat Hair and Watcher leapt into the water and somehow grabbed the canoe before it drifted beyond reach. With the canoe floating in the water, the sides were too high for us to shoot down at the bear inside.
Weeps a Lot, bloody, suddenly appeared on a thwart. Thin Hair waded close, trying to reach the canoe so he could throw a dart at the bear. Weeps a Lot jumped out of the canoe and landed on Thin Hair’s shoulder, destroying his aim, just as the bear rose. It stood looking at Thin Hair. I expected Pretty Face, who had an easy shot, to throw, but he did not. The bear raised an arm and swung, striking its paw against Thin Hair’s shoulder. I heard bones snap. Thin Hair tumbled sideways into the water. He tried to rise, but could not because his shoulder was crushed. Weeps a Lot fell against him, driving him deeper into the water. Finally Pretty Face threw, striking the bear just before it dropped to all fours to resume feeding in the canoe. Cold Eye stood silently in the stern, the end of the canoe furthest from the land, while the bear ate and grunted in the bow.
The bear paused in its feeding and rose again. A dart stuck out from under its throat. It saw Watcher and Fat Hair close by, at the bow, holding the canoe. The bear roared, its face covered with blood. We threw again. Although now hit by many darts, the bear continued to move, rocking the canoe. Watcher, holding the bow, made the canoe rock even more. The bear lost its balance and tumbled into the water. It splashed for long minutes before dying. Watcher and Fat Hair tugged the canoe back to the shore.
The mother bear lay dead. Long Braid keened as she lay on the ground, her ankle twisted. Tree Hide sang the loss song for Rock Hide, whose headless body sprawled on the beach. Thin Hair, now dead, bobbed in the water. Thrower began his loss song. Weeps a Lot had staggered ashore, bleeding. Cold Eye, still in the stern of the canoe, had not moved. She was pointing toward the middle of the canoe, trying to speak.
We pulled the canoe to the beach. Watcher and Fat Hair gently pulled Thin Hair’s body onto the land. Inside the canoe was blood, pieces of flesh, a torso, legs and arms--the remains of Weeps a Lot More. Anger began to throw the partly eaten body parts out of the canoe. Pretty Face stood alone, watching me. He knew I had seen him delay his throw. Now Thin Hair was dead, as Pretty Face and Fat Hair had wished.
Fat Hair stood on the beach looking toward the mainland across the water. Judging by the sky, very little time had passed since the bears swam to us, but it felt as if days had gone by.
Fat Hair pointed at some new geese-shaped ripples in the water. “The salmon have not come yet. The bears are hungry and coming for us.” Three more were swimming for the island. They were already halfway across. “Quick. We must leave now.”
Watcher, Anger, Fat Hair and Thrower carried Long Braid into the canoe, placing her on robes.
Thrower stood by his father’s body. “We must burn Thin Hair, Rock Hide, and Weeps a Lot More to free their spirits.”
“We have no time. We must leave,” said Fat Hair. Anger, Watcher, Thrower and I carried Thin Hair and Rock Hide to the fire. We threw their bodies on the flames and piled as much wood as we could. Then we ran back to the canoe and pushed off.
We began to paddle. We paddled as fast as we could.
We had many losses. Three people were dead. Weeps a Lot had been badly gashed by the bear. Long Braid’s foot lay at a strange angle. Fat Hair was now our leader.
Watcher steered as we paddled. The three bears, still swimming, followed, now falling behind. We struggled south between the barrier island and the shore, hoping we could find safety. We had little water, virtually no food, and a long distance yet to travel. Long Braid lay in the bottom of the canoe, eyes blank. Weeps a Lot continued bleeding. We wrapped a robe around her cut, but we did not have time for paste and herbs. Long Braid, the person who best knew the healing arts, was herself unable to move. Thrower continued to hum his loss song, not talking. His father was dead.
The fire behind us blazed. The red glow lingered against the darkening sky until the shore curved and we passed around a gentle point.
The barrier island was long and we were able to stay in calm waters until the sun rose. We picked our way south, watching the shore, always watching, even though now we were leaving behind the river where the bears were gathered. When the sun broke above the ice to the east, we stopped near the south end of the island and Anger and Fat Hair went ashore and checked for animals. Here the island was narrow, with a tall tree-covered ridge in the middle. A tiny stream fed a small pool. We found no animals where we landed, no scratched bark, no footprints.
We pulled the canoe ashore and gently removed Long Braid and placed her on boughs. Bright Eyes started a fire. Tree Hide and Cold Eye filled the stomach bags with water. I helped Woman Too Soon bind and secure Long Braid’s foot. It was very swollen. She gasped as we straightened and lashed the foot between stout sticks, making it rigid.
Thrower and Pretty Face went seeking seals, but found none. They took two raccoons. These we butchered and cooked, hanging the meat over the flames. Weeps a Lot was not eating. We ate all the meat. The meat was bitter.
We did not wash the canoe. We loaded the water, placed some boughs in the bottom, and pushed off.
Other narrow islands lay far ahead. The shore, east, rose to high mountains and ice. The ice reached the sea in many places. Ice chunks floated in the water. We paddled for six hand spans, away from land, until the mountains and the ice were distant. Out here the water was deep blue and T
iny Whales were everywhere. We raised the sail and began moving south.
Now there was no singing, no “Hut-hut-hut,” no drum. We all were silent, working, not thinking. The only people who spoke were Pretty Face and Fat Hair. They talked excitedly about how far we would go this day, when we would reach the next camp before the ice bear, how we would share the food and water. They talked all the time, back and forth. Long Braid, on the bottom of the canoe, listened and said nothing. The rest of us said nothing. Thrower paddled in the bow, alone, facing forward. I paddled opposite Thrower.
After a long time paddling, Thrower and I rested under the tent while others took over.
Long Braid slept while Weeps a Lot stared at the sky, awake but not seeing. The sail sounds and water sounds and the chatter of Fat Hair and Pretty Face meant Thrower and I could whisper without others hearing.
“Did you see what Pretty Face did?” Thrower leaned close to me. We were retying ropes.
“I thought only I saw.”
“So you saw.”
“Fat Hair saw, too, I think.”
“This was murder, Strong Heart. I will have revenge.”
“First we must reach your home. Fat Hair and Pretty Face need all of us alive and healthy to get there.”
“It will be most dangerous when our home is in sight.”
I heard Pretty Face laugh and Fat Hair join in. Thrower twisted a section of rope in his hands.
“Pretty Face is clever. If we tell my grandfather what Pretty Face did, Pretty Face will say that he did not delay throwing to allow the bear to kill my father. Instead, he will say he needed to wait for the proper time, because my father was between him and the bear, and his aim is not that good. He will remind everyone that he removed your finger with a throw, and then he will remind us how he placed a dart high in that tree because of another wild throw.”
Strong Heart Page 19
