Strong Heart

by Charlie Sheldon

  “Pretty Face was trying to shoot me when I lost my finger. And your father was not between Pretty Face and the bear.”

  “He was close enough. Fat Hair will support his story.”

  “Yes, it will be the word of Fat Hair and Pretty Face against Thin Hair’s son, you, and me, a young stranger, who some say is a bad spirit. That is how they will argue.”

  “My grandfather is wise, Strong Heart.”

  “Then we must live until we can stand before him.”

  We continued. The day passed. Late in the afternoon, the north wind died. By sunset, the water lay smooth, like fresh ice, stretching away, except this ice moved as the big marching animals beneath the surface strode toward land. We paddled and the canoe left a slight trail behind, but from hand span to hand span we could not tell if we were moving at all. To the east the high mountains and the white ice shone brightly, with black jagged lines where the rocks broke through. Even this far away, we could see the thick rise of spray when a section of ice fell into the sea, but we were so distant the waves from such falls arrived weak and small.

  Thrower and I were again paddling.

  Thrower turned to me and his teeth were bright in a wide smile. “You will force me to have a much stronger right arm. Your hand forces me to always paddle this side.”

  “Just as I am forced to strengthen only my left arm.”

  My left hand and arm always ached with a dull pain from pulling the paddle. When we rested, I had trouble relaxing my fingers after gripping the shaft of the paddle for so long. The damaged finger on my right hand slowly healed. The stump closed with a fresh scab and thin new skin. “If your right arm is made stronger, Thrower, then I will have helped you become an ever better and longer thrower because you throw right-handed.”

  “I will need this help if you keep throwing, Strong Heart. You will one day be the best thrower of our people.”

  “This is a day even further away than the distant time I become a woman.”

  “That time is not so distant.”

  “You know nothing.”

  The sun fell to the edge of the sea. The surface lay like a vast still puddle. With no wind, the sail hung slack. Six of us paddled, yet the canoe seemed motionless. Still, when I took my position again at the thwart, I saw that the tallest mountain to the east, once well ahead, was now behind us, and further ahead were more mountains, higher still, heavy with ice.

  We drank water, only water. We had no food.

  Stars rose in the east and then the moon, growing fatter, growing to her fullness. Long Braid woke and we made her comfortable. Thrower held the cup for her so she could drink.

  “This has become a steep price for wives.” Long Braid drank. “Thin Hair was our shaman and now we have no shaman. Thrower, you are not yet ready, even though you have taken your mystery time.” Long Braid reached out and took my hand. “You are the one chosen to go to the Marking Place, Strong Heart. This is also the place our shamans go for their mystery time. This place is a mystery for the people, a sacred place.”

  I did not know what Long Braid was talking about. “What is this Marking Place?”

  “This is the place where one from the new wives goes and marks arrival. A place where we honor the animals that rule our land. Some of us can paint these animals on stone, using herbs and animal oil to make paint. Many cannot. This is something we also ask you wives to try, when you come, to see if you have the gift to make animals with paint. We hold our stories and history through these markings. Now I am tired. I will sleep.” Long Braid closed her eyes. She was very weak.

  “Where is this place?” I asked Thrower.

  “The location cannot be told, but I have been there twice, with my father. I can tell you it lies with the eagles and the sun, and takes four days to reach from our home to the west.”

  Fat Hair called out. Thrower and I moved forward and took our positions on the first thwart. I felt air against my face. East, the ice gleamed beneath the moon and stars. The sky seemed to hold more stars than all the people who had ever lived or thought to live.

  We paddled the entire night. In the morning, we faced a head wind. Clouds rose in the sky. The wind ahead was gentle but steady. Fat Hair directed Watcher to steer the canoe toward land, which had grown distant.

  My belly was hollow. We were almost out of water. Far ahead, we saw the ice bear, white in the morning sun.

  “There.” Fat Hair pointed. “There, where the land ends, and the ice can be seen beyond, there we must stop and find food.”

  The wind blew against my face as I paddled. The canoe shuddered as it pierced the steep, small waves. Birds circled above, following us.

  Later that morning, when Thrower and I went to the tent from our time paddling, Long Braid, on the wet robes, lay in pain, her eyes dull. Her strapped foot had swollen so much the flesh wrapped around one of the branches holding her ankle, and the skin had become cracked.

  Weeps a Lot was gray. Her deep cut was not healing; it seeped blood.

  The canoe lurched. Spray flew into our faces. Water sloshed across the bottom, against the robes and our feet. It was foul in the bottom of the canoe. We were down to our last water, and we still had far to go.

  Anger, now forward paddling, worked as she always did, tireless, heavy bones moving as she pulled. Her long, misshapen head turned this way and that. She had become thinner. Her bones showed. Tree Hide had also grown thin. She spoke seldom, and moved with weariness. We all had drawn faces and hollow eyes. We were beginning to starve.

  Fat Hair urged us to continue, faster, for the day was passing, the shore distant, and still we had to find the place to land.

  The wind strengthened. The clouds approaching from the southwest began to arc over our heads. The day fell pale and dark.

  “We must all paddle now,” Fat Hair said.

  Thrower and I joined the others. We had lost several good paddles in the bear attack, and when all of us paddled I had to use one which had been broken off at the top. I had no level handle on which to rest my right hand. I had to grip the shaft and try to guide the paddle while pulling with the other hand. This was difficult.

  We could now see the shore. Ahead, it curved and seemed to end, and I knew Fat Hair wanted to bring us around this point to more sheltered waters beyond. Past the point, the great ice wall loomed, teeth deep in the sea, gnawing, stretching south, eating the sea.

  We let loose the sail. Our speed increased.

  We surged forward and leaned to one side as the wind pressed on the sail. We reached the point and then moved past. We slid by a rocky beach against which the deep seas from the west rose and thundered. Finally, we turned back north, and with the wind now behind us, we sailed into a sheltered beach.

  In the protected cove, I saw a fire pit on the beach, and I knew this was the place Fat Hair had aimed for. He was a good finder.

  We brought the canoe ashore. Ahead, I saw driftwood and a raven in a tree. Further down the beach, a group of seals, seeing us, scurried into the water.

  Anger found an anchor stone. We pulled the canoe onto shore and secured it. We made a lean-to near the fire pit, facing north, the direction from which animals might come. Watcher and Thrower disappeared inland, looking for sign of animals. Fat Hair, Tree Hide and Cold Eye took stomach bags and sought water. We left Long Braid and Weeps a Lot in the canoe, on the robes, because they could not move. After helping finish the shelter, I did my best to clean the area in the canoe around Weeps a Lot and Long Braid.

  Long Braid’s eyes opened. She saw me and she reached out, taking my arm. “Strong Heart, I have not yet taught you all you need to know.”

  “You have taught me much. You should not talk, Long Braid.”

  Long Braid was dying. Her eyes had dropped deep into her skull. Her jaw was sharp. Veins stuck out on her neck. Her foot was blue, swollen, the cracked skin now oozing thick,
yellow fluid. She had the hot flesh. I was surprised she was able to see me, to speak at all.

  “There is so much yet for you to learn.”

  “Hush, Long Braid.” I did not know what to say. Weeps a Lot, now awake, lay next to Long Braid.

  Long Braid struggled to speak. I had to lean close to listen. “My journey child will sleep before he wakes. Where is Fat Hair?”

  “He has gone for water, Long Braid.”

  Long Braid coughed, a weak hollow rasp. She coughed again. Then, with her hand still on my arm, she died.

  Watcher and Thrower returned to say there was animal sign and we would need watcher fires. Fat Hair returned with water and began his loss song. Anger and Tree Hide took throwers and went down the beach looking for seals or any food they could find. They moved slowly. We moved Weeps a Lot from the canoe to the fire, for warmth.

  We were weak. We had trouble gathering wood for our main fire and then we had to gather more for the watcher fires. We needed enough wood to keep the fires blazing brightly through the night. We had to gather even more wood to build a pyre for Long Braid.

  “People died because we did not set Thin Hair’s and Rock Hide’s spirits free on a proper pyre when the bears attacked us,” muttered Anger, as she gathered wood next to me. “We are now building a pyre for Long Braid, but this will not balance our failure to set the others free.”

  The sun began to set. The clouds grew thick and we felt rain in the air.

  We made another fire, north of the canoe and the fire pit, so the smoke would blow north, away from our camp. As evening fell, we carried Long Braid from the canoe and placed her on the pyre. Long Braid burned while Fat Hair sang his loss song. The pyre burned for a long time, throwing sparks high and sending smoke north in waves. The flames took Long Braid’s body, freeing her spirit to return to her home.

  Fat Hair had lost his wife and his journey child. He sat by the fire in silence. Pretty Face told us what to do when Fat Hair stopped talking.

  We placed people at the watcher fires. With so few left, I had to stand guard by a watcher fire for several spans of the moon. I was comforted because the person at the other fire was Watcher. He could see better than anyone. I held a thrower and I hoped to see the red flash of eyes approaching.

  It began to rain. I kept a long branch in the fire with a flaming end, which I could use to frighten or slow down any animal that might attack.

  Watcher’s fire was to my right, many paces distant.

  “Ahead.” Watcher’s call was sharp. “Your side.”

  Between Watcher and me, but much closer to my fire, I saw the red flash of eyes, glowing, low to the ground, approaching, and circling. These were not bears.

  Watcher called out. “Wolves. Kill one now and they may flee.”

  Watcher ran toward me. I could see his torch swinging from the corner of my eye. Instead of picking up my torch, I took my thrower and darts and ran toward the wolves. I could see their eyes in the light cast by Watcher’s torch. I stopped, placed a dart in the thrower, and waited. It was dark and I could only see their eyes.

  The eyes backed away from Watcher’s approaching torch, moving toward my fire and me. I now saw their bodies as well as their eyes. These were the great wolf, with fangs the length of my fingers. From behind me, I heard feet, people from our camp coming to help.

  The wolf leader, tall and long, hesitated and turned. For a moment, he was outlined against the dark forest. I threw. I heard the whistling sound of other darts. The big wolf went down. My dart had struck just behind the left shoulder, passing through its heart, almost through its body. A second dart had struck a glancing blow near its rear legs.

  Pretty Face strode to the wolf and pulled out the killing dart. He turned to me. The large animal lay on the ground, blood flowing from its mouth. “Your shot would have crippled this wolf had mine not killed it, Strong Heart.”

  The others were not close enough to hear us. Watcher and some of the others were chasing down another wolf.

  “I killed this wolf.” I spoke as I watched Pretty Face holding the dart I had thrown.

  “No. This is my dart. This one here, it is yours.” Pretty Face handed me the dart that had struck the hind legs. It was not my dart. As the others now approached, he said, “My shooting is better.” His smile was large, and triumphant. He was one of those people who are good at lying because, in the moment they lie, they completely believe whatever they are saying. He acted just like a man who had killed this animal.

  “You saved Strong Heart again.” Cold Eye was behind Pretty Face.

  “This is food we can now eat,” Pretty Face took the dart I had thrown and held it as if it was his.

  Watcher came up to us, bearing a torch. “We took no other wolves.”

  “We can eat.” Woman Too Soon was already working with Bright Eyes on the dead wolf.

  Fat Hair appeared, holding a thrower and darts. “You have fed us, Pretty Face.”

  I said nothing.

  Pretty Face pointed. “Strong Heart hit the wolf also. I saw her throw. If my dart had not killed the wolf, she had crippled it and we would have taken it. This is partly her wolf.” Pretty Face smiled at me and I saw in his eyes that he intended to kill me, but he would be patient.

  If I took credit now for killing the wolf, it would look like I was trying to boast, and for this the others would ridicule me. By giving me some praise, Pretty Face had cleverly silenced me. He had already allowed Thin Hair to be killed, which opened a path for him. Now, with Fat Hair grieving for Long Braid, Pretty Face was taking all credit for killing this wolf and saving us from starvation. He was establishing himself as someone who helped others, someone who deserved leadership.

  Pretty Face continued to smile. I said nothing. We ate. We were so hungry we found the sour flesh delicious. After we had eaten our fill, Watcher and I walked back to the small fires.

  “I know you threw that dart, Strong Heart. I saw the throw. Pretty Face’s throw was not the killing throw.”

  “He plans to kill me.”

  “You frighten him because you are not frightened of him. You frighten him also because you know what he did with Thin Hair. He is afraid you will speak of this.”

  “It seems I do not need to speak of it if you already know.”

  “Strong Heart, Thin Hair named you well.”

  “My heart almost froze when those wolves came, Watcher. I was cold with fear.”

  “I also was cold with fear, Strong Heart. Fear keeps us alive.”

  It rained most of the night. No other animals came. In the morning, the rain had blown past and the wind shifted to the west, then the northwest. The sea churned with whitecaps and steep waves. Even when the sun rose above the mountains to the east, it was too rough to leave. We gathered more wood and smoked the rest of the wolf meat. We filled all the stomach bags and Watcher and Bright Eyes repaired two paddles. Cold Eye scraped and rolled the wolf pelt.

  The wind continued as the skies cleared. The sun felt warm. The waters south of our camp were tossed and filled with scattered whitecaps, but our canoe had survived waters rougher than these.

  “We must now try to sail,” Fat Hair said.

  Bright Eyes tended to Weeps a Lot’s cut, which continued to seep blood. Weeps a Lot had become pale, and was empty in her eyes.

  “If we place her in the canoe she will die,” said Bright Eyes.

  “If we do not place her in the canoe she will die.” Pretty Face watched Cold Eye trim the wolf pelt. He had already claimed it for his own.

  We loaded the canoe with our robes, weapons and bags of water. At the beach the water was calm, lapping the stones, but when we pushed off and turned south we would come to large waves.

  “Place the boards,” Watcher said. We carefully placed and secured the boards that raised the sides of the canoe.

  Weeps a Lot still
lay by the fire. She watched us, but she was not really watching. Her eyes moved from one thing to another without aim. The robe around her cut was red with new blood.

  Fat Hair killed Weeps a Lot with a large rock, crushing her skull. He killed her quickly, coming up behind so she was unaware of his approach. It seemed she was unaware of anything, and now her spirit was trapped in the body lying by the fire.

  Anger watched Fat Hair as he strode back to the canoe from the killing. “We have wood for her death pyre.”

  “She has not yet been accepted into the people and we need not send her spirit,” Pretty Face said, handing in the last of the water bags.

  “Thin Hair said we were all of the people, Pretty Face.”

  “I do not remember that, Strong Heart. You also are not yet of the people and you talk too much.”

  “We must leave now.” Fat Hair started to push the canoe off the beach. The rest of us were in the canoe except Watcher and Anger and Fat Hair.

  “You invite trouble.” Anger waved at the motionless dead form of Weeps a Lot. “We always send the spirit of the people.”

  “Did we send the spirit when Thin Hair and Rock Hide were killed? We did not have time then. We do not have time now.” Fat Hair pushed the canoe.

  Anger left her position at the canoe and strode back to the shelter. She threw all the remaining wood onto the coals, then lifted Weeps a Lot and threw her onto the wood. Weeps a Lot lay on her back, her head loose.

  Anger, Fat Hair and Pretty Face pushed us off, then hoisted themselves aboard.

  “We will sail,” Fat Hair said, not looking back at this place when we departed. Here his wife had died, and his journey child, yet he faced south and focused on being the finder, because more than anything now, we needed a good finder. We had to stay well away from the dangerous teeth of the ice bear.