by Joan Wolf
“Dhu,” Nel whispered.
His eyes flicked briefly to her face. “I knew immediately that it was broken. I cut some branches and tied them to the leg for support. Then I went to get help from the Tribe of the Buffalo.”
Nel contemplated those brief remarks. It had been winter. He had been at summer camp, and to get to the territory of the Buffalo tribe he would have had to climb through that high pass. Nel let out a careful breath. It was a miracle he had not frozen to death.
“How long did it take you to reach the Buffalo tribe?” she asked.
He shrugged. “A handful of days.”
“You walked on the broken leg?”
“I leaned on a stick.”
“I cannot understand how you did not freeze to death.”
At last he looked at her. “If it had not been for Nigak, I would have. You saved my life, Nel, when you gave me Nigak. He fed me. If I had not had food, I would most certainly have frozen.”
“He fed you?”
“Sa.” The taut look on Ronan’s face relaxed slightly. “Do you know how wolves feed their pups?” Nel’s eyes enlarged noticeably and she nodded. “Well, I could not hunt, and I had no food, and I remembered how wolves feed their pups. I knew Nigak was hunting, and I knew I was in danger of freezing if I did not get some food into me, so when he came back to me once after a hunting expedition, I licked his muzzle the way I once saw a wolf pup do.”
“Oh,” Nel said, her eyes enormous.
“What came up wasn’t overly appetizing,” Ronan said ruefully, “but after I cooked it, it was fine. It kept me warm, and it kept me alive.”
“Oh Ronan,” Nel said, turning to gaze at Nigak, who was lying on his side, snoozing with his four white legs stuck out in front of him. “Isn’t Nigak splendid?”
“Sa,” Ronan said, grimly serious. “He is. He stuck with me, Nel, all the way, and when finally I went down, he fetched help for me.”
Shivers ran up and down Nel’s whole body, and she folded her arms tightly across her chest. “How far did you get?” she asked.
He began to pace around once more. The limp was not that bad, she thought. There was just the faintest unevenness in his gait. In a man who had not Ronan’s fluid way of moving, it would scarcely have been noticeable. “I made it to the Atata River,” he said. “It was lucky for me there were hunters in the area.” He paused in his pacing to look at the peacefully sleeping wolf. “Nigak led one of their dogs to me. At least, that’s what they told me. I don’t remember. I was halfway on my journey to the Land of the Dead.”
Nel shivered again to think how close she had come to losing him. “And the men of the Buffalo tribe took care of you?” she asked.
“Sa. I stayed with them for the winter, and in the spring, when my leg was healed, I left.”
She said, “The leg healed well. You were fortunate.”
“I limp.”
She shook her head.
“You noticed it immediately.”
“Someone who did not know you would not have noticed it at all.”
“Well, it does not matter,” he said.
She gave him a beautiful smile. “It does not matter at all.”
He stared at her with the odd expression she had surprised in his eyes earlier. Then he blinked twice, rapidly, as if he were banishing a distraction, and said, “Nel, I want to talk to Tyr. Is he at home? I did not see him at summer camp.”
“Sa, he is here. Dana is due to give birth very shortly; that is why Tyr did not go to summer camp this year.”
“I want to see him. Would it be possible for you to bring him here to me?”
“Of course.” She got to her feet. “He will be so glad to see you, Ronan. He has missed you.”
“Mmmm,” Ronan said noncommittally.
Nel glanced at the sky. “I had better fetch him now, before he leaves camp for the day’s hunting.”
“Would you mind, minnow?”
“Of course not,” Nel said, smiled, whirled, ran lightly toward the surrounding forest, and was gone.
* * * *
It was after midday when Nel returned, bringing Tyr with her as promised. It was an obviously emotional moment for Tyr when first he laid eyes on his old agemate again.
“Ronan!” He came forward to place his hands upon Ronan’s shoulders in the traditional greeting of the tribe’s men. “It is so good to see you!”
“Tyr.” Ronan was far more composed than Tyr. He looked into his old friend’s familiar dark blue eyes and felt surprise that Tyr had changed so little.
A silence fell. Tyr reluctantly dropped his hands. He said, “Did your men give you my message? Is that why you have come?”
“I got your message,” Ronan said, “but it was Nel who brought me here.”
“Nel?”
The three of them were standing at the edge of the clearing, Tyr in the shade of a tree, Ronan in full sun. Nel stood between them, half in the light and half in the shadow. She said to Tyr, “I am going with Ronan back to the Valley of the Wolf.” Happiness rang in her voice.
Tyr’s face sharpened, and suddenly Ronan saw that his friend was indeed older than the boy he had left. “Does Fali know this?” Tyr demanded.
“Of course not.” Nel frowned. “Nor are you to tell her, Tyr.”
Tyr’s mouth set. “She must be told,” he said.
Ronan’s remark, “I did not realize that Fali was so fond of Nel,” clashed with her own furious “Na!”
Tyr turned to Ronan. “It is more than Fali’s fondness that must be considered here,” he said grimly.
“I do not understand you,” Ronan returned, his slim arched brows demanding an explanation.
Tyr gave it to him. “You cannot take Nel with you, Ronan. Fali has been training her to be our next Mistress.”
“What?” The exclamation came not from Ronan but from Nel. “What are you talking about, Tyr? Morna is to be the next Mistress!”
“Na, Nel,” Tyr said, almost wearily. “Fali has been grooming you to become Mistress after Arika.”
Nel’s face was both angry and bewildered. “Fali has been teaching me the art of curing.”
“She has been teaching you more than that. Did you not notice?”
Ronan asked in a hard voice, “Does Arika know what Fali has been doing?”
“Sa.” The intake of Nel’s breath was audible at Tyr’s affirmative.
“Who else knows?” Ronan demanded.
“The council of matriarchs. Neihle. Erek. Me. That was what I meant when I sent to tell you that the temper of the tribe has changed. We will not accept Morna as Mistress, and Arika knows it. She has not yet displaced Morna formally, but…”
“What is she waiting for, then?” Ronan interrupted.
“She has been waiting for Nel to become a woman,” Tyr said.
At that, both young men turned to look at the girl between them, She was standing still as a stone, the shadow from an overhanging leaf making a mark of shadow, like a moth, upon her sunlit cheek. Tyr said to her, “Nel, Arika is planning to ask you to make the Sacred Marriage at Winter Fires.”
A small sound came from Nel, the sound made by a frightened animal when it is finally cornered. Acting from the habit of many years, Ronan held out his arm to her. She moved instantly into his embrace, nestling against his side and shoulder, just as she had when she was a child.
Ronan was immediately and acutely conscious of the fact that it was not a child’s body pressing up against him anymore, and he drew a long, careful breath before he spoke. “Nel will not be making the Sacred Marriage this winter,” he said. “She is coming with me.”
He felt some of the tension drain from the slender young body sheltering against him, “Besides,” Nel said from behind the safety of his arm, “Morna would never stand for my making the Sacred Marriage. She hates me.”
“Morna will have nothing to say about it,” Tyr answered grimly. He looked at Ronan. “All of this happened after you left. Neihle and Arika had a long
talk, then Arika and the matriarchs talked, and finally Arika agreed to let Fali take Nel in charge. That is why I sent you the message that I did. Once Nel is Mistress, then will it be safe for you to return home.”
“I find it hard to believe that Arika would allow Morna to be supplanted,” Ronan said bitterly.
“The Mistress has not been the same, Ronan, since she banished you,” Tyr replied.
Ronan laughed.
“Don’t,” Nel said and turned her face into his shoulder.
A painful silence fell.
“Well, minnow,” Ronan said finally, his voice expressionless, “what do you want to do?”
She raised her eyes to him. In the merciless light of the midday sun, her creamy skin was flawless. “I want to come with you,” she said.
“You cannot!” Tyr cried.
“My need of Nel is as great as yours, Tyr,” Ronan said somberly. “And I am thinking also that my need and yours may one day prove to be the same.”
Tyr stared at Ronan with a mixture of anger and curiosity. “What do you mean?” he demanded.
“Have you heard,” Ronan asked, “of a tribe called the Horsemasters?”
* * * *
“Do you really think that the Tribe of the Red Deer may be endangered?” Tyr said. They were sitting now around the remains of Ronan’s breakfast fire, Tyr listening to Ronan’s tale with ever-increasing horror.
“I think it is possible. If this tribe continues on its southward path and comes down the River of Gold, all of the tribes in these mountains will be endangered.”
“We have heard nothing of this,” Tyr said. “We went late to the Spring Gathering, and we heard nothing.”
“My men heard rumors at the gathering, and so I sent scouts north to search out the truth,” Ronan said. “That is how I learned what I have just told you.”
“You sent scouts?”
“Sa. Men I could trust not to be swayed by gossip. Men who would see for themselves.”
Nel said, “And it is true? This tribe has truly learned to tame and ride horses?”
Ronan nodded. “It is true.”
Nel’s long green eyes glittered. “How wonderful that must be!”
Ronan’s smile was wry. “The Tribe of the Owl would not agree with you, Nel.”
Nel bit her lip. “That is true.”
“There are horses in the Valley of the Wolf,” Ronan said, watching her closely. “One herd of mares with one stallion. We have lived beside them now for three years, Nel.” He paused. “It is in my heart that we could tame them.”
Nel’s eyes widened.
“If anyone can do it, Nel, you can. You have ever had the Mother’s understanding of animals.”
“Have you tried to tame them?” she asked.
“Na. I decided I would come first for you.”
“I see,” she said quietly.
Tyr had been listening to this interchange with growing incredulity, and now he said, “You are going to attempt to ride a horse yourself?”
“If these marauders do indeed come south, Tyr, then it will be well for us if we can face them with their own weapons.”
“We?” Tyr said.
“We. The Tribe of the Wolf and the Tribe of the Red Deer and the Tribe of the Leopard and the Tribe of the Buffalo, and all the tribes of the Kindred that dwell in these mountains. There are many of these outlanders, Tyr. They are the equal in number of at least a handful of our tribes together.”
Tyr pulled on his braid. “Dhu. It is hard to comprehend all that you have said.”
“So now you know why I want Nel to come with me,” Ronan said.
Both young men looked at Nel. “It is true that she has a way with animals,” Tyr said. “She tamed a wolf. She tamed a scimitar cat.”
Nel said nothing.
Tyr turned again to Ronan. “But what are we to do, then, for a Mistress? The Old Woman has declared that Nel is truly Chosen. The tribe will accept Nel over Morna. I am not certain they will accept anyone else.”
Nel said in a tight little voice, “Fali never said aught of this to me.”
“She was waiting to tell you,” Tyr said. “She knew you would be…reluctant.”
“She was right,” Nel said. “I am more than reluctant.” Her face was set. “I refuse.”
Ronan rested his hand upon the back of Nel’s neck, a gesture that dated back to their earliest childhood. “Don’t fret, minnow,” he said grimly. “No one will make you do anything you don’t want to do while I am here.”
There was a quick flash of green as she glanced sideways at Ronan, and then she was looking again at Tyr.
Ronan said, “I will take Nel back with me to the valley. I will tell you now how to find it, Tyr, and when you know it is time to declare a new Mistress, send to tell us. We can decide then what it is best for us to do.”
“I do not want to be Mistress, Ronan,” Nel said levelly.
His hand on her neck tightened with reassurance. “I hear you, minnow.” Over her head the eyes of the two men met, and slowly, Tyr nodded his head.
* * * *
Nel told Ronan that it would be better for them to leave at night. “As soon as Fali sees my sleeping skins gone, she will know that something is wrong,” she said. “If we travel all night, we will have a good start if there is a pursuit.”
He agreed, and since the moon was full, and the sky clear, they decided not to delay but to leave that very night.
* * * *
Fali was sitting in front of their hut scraping skins when Nel returned. The girl halted for a moment to compose her face before she approached the Old Woman.
“Good afternoon, my Mother,” Nel said. She put down the basket of herbs she had hastily collected as an excuse for her absence. “How are you faring this day?”
“I am well,” Fali replied. She squinted up at Nel. Her brown eyes were still amazingly bright in the nest of wrinkles that was her face. “You were gone early, Nel.”
“Sa.” Nel hoped her smile looked natural. “The day was fine and I could not keep within.”
Fali nodded wisely. “You are restless. At your age that is only natural. It is a pity that your moon blood did not begin to flow before Spring Fires instead of after.”
“Na,” Nel said quickly. “That is not it at all. I am glad I was not yet a woman at Spring Fires, my Mother. I was not ready then.”
Fali regarded her steadily, and Nel sustained that shrewd gaze with fortitude. “It is true that there are some girls who are not ready in their minds even though their bodies say otherwise,” Fali said. “I was such a one myself. I did not take a mate for one full year after my moon blood had begun to flow. But I would not have thought that of you, Nel. I have always thought you were old for your years.”
Nel shrugged and began to sort through her basket of herbs to escape Fali’s scrutiny. “Nevertheless, I was not ready to take a mate at Spring Fires,” she said.
“And at Winter Fires?” Fali asked. Her voice was just faintly sharper than it had been.
“I will be ready by Winter Fires,” Nel said. She looked up. “Will I be able to choose the man?”
“Of course you can choose the man,” Fali said. The sharpness had disappeared from her voice. “There is not a man in the tribe who does not dream of lying with you, Nel.”
Nel bent lower over the basket, to hide the resentment she feared must show on her face. Of course she would be able to choose the man if she were the one making the Sacred Marriage, she thought. It was infamous of Fali to be keeping that from her.
“You flatter me,” was all she answered.
“Na, I do not flatter you. Unlike Morna, you have no understanding of the power of your own beauty.”
At that Nel’s head jerked up. “Your fondness blinds you, my Mother. I am not beautiful like Morna.”
“That is so,” Fali agreed. “You are not beautiful like Morna. You are beautiful like Nel.”
Nel smiled and nodded and rose to her feet. “I will brew us
some tea,” she said, and escaped into the hut.
The Old Woman went to bed early, for which Nel was profoundly grateful. The evening had been difficult. She was very fond of Fali and had always been intensely grateful to the Old Woman for removing her from the custody of her father’s shrewish wife. That gratitude was tempered now by the realization that Fali had had an ulterior motive. Nel reminded herself of that motive all evening, hugging her resentment to herself in an effort to blunt the guilt she was feeling at deserting Fali in her extreme old age.
When Fali had been safely asleep for some time, Nel quietly packed up her sleeping skins and other belongings. Moving on silent feet, she crept to the door of the hut and slipped out. Nothing stirred. Cautiously, Nel moved away from the hut. No dogs barked. Like a shadow in the moonlight, scarcely daring even to breathe, Nel slipped through the sleeping camp.
Ronan was waiting for her in their appointed place, standing on the stony beach and gazing out over the moon-silvered water. He had not yet seen her, and Nel stopped for a moment to feast her eyes on him. Then Nigak was loping toward her, his ears pricked forward, and Ronan turned and said her name. Nel walked forward to meet him.
Chapter Fifteen
Ronan and Nel traveled in the moonlight, following the Greatfish River south almost to the point where it branched off east and fed into the Narrow River. It was an hour before dawn when Ronan called a halt. “Let’s stop and rest until midday,” he said, “and then continue on until supper time.”
Nel nodded wearily. She had scarcely slept the previous night she had been so excited about Ronan’s return, and she was so tired she could scarcely speak. She let her backpack slide to the ground and collapsed beside it.
“Do you want something to eat?” Ronan asked softly.
“Na,” she said. She was resting her forehead on her up-drawn knees. “I just want to sleep, Ronan. I am so weary.”
“Then sleep.” He picked up her pack and began to unroll her sleeping skins. She watched as he spread them out for her. He turned. “A drink?” he asked.
She licked her dry lips. “Sa,” She took the deer bladder he offered and drank the lukewarm water. Ronan had chosen a place on the edge of the forest; the trees were behind them, the river before. In the moonlight Nel could see a small herd of antelope drinking daintily from the river. The whoop of a hyena came from the forest. Crickets chirped, frogs croaked, and somewhere a wolf howled.
