Cave Bear Mountain

by Jo Sandhu

  ‘My brother and his wife and his wife’s brother . . .’ Vas continued the introductions. ‘My cousin and his son and daughter . . .’

  Tarin tried to catch Kaija’s gaze, but she sat stiff and unhappy next to her mother across the other side of the fire. Luuka sat with the wolves, silent and alert. Occasionally he warned Sasha not to hurt the wolves, but he spoke little and refused the food and drink handed around.

  Tarin tried to learn more of the traders. They called themselves reindeer traders because they followed the migrating herds from the steppes to the mountains and back again, camping only long enough to cure the meat and furs they hunted. The rest of the time they wandered the earth, trading the reindeer products for fish, mammoth, bison, and sometimes, lodgings over the fierce Winter. They could spend a whole season following one herd, but usually after the herd had been hunted a few times, they grew wary, and the traders moved on.

  Tarin wondered what it would be like to spend your whole life moving around, for no matter how snug and inviting the kota, the tents used by the traders, they didn’t compare to a homely earth-lodge.

  ‘Now, if you are not too tired and you have eaten your fill . . .’ Vas’s gaze fell on Luuka. ‘I shall show you something very special. My son is fascinated by wolves, as you can see, but me, well, I am fascinated by a larger animal. Can you guess what it is? And why we were so ready to travel all this way to the charming Bear People? No? Then I shall not tell you yet. I shall show you. Come.’

  Tarin didn’t think he had ever met anyone who could talk as much as Vas, and yet he had the feeling the man was seeing things that Tarin would prefer were kept hidden.

  He got to his feet. ‘Kaija? Are you coming?’

  ‘N . . . no. I think I’ll stay here.’

  ‘And mother and daughter can have a good talk, is that not so?’ Vas smiled at them both. ‘And you, boy?’ he asked Luuka. ‘Perhaps you, too, would like to talk to our healer? She can fix your grazes and that ankle you are trying not to walk on.’ And although his smile widened, Tarin was reminded of a hawk about to pounce on its prey.

  ‘Now,’ Vas said to Tarin as they stepped out of the kota, ‘perhaps you can tell me what you are doing here with not one, but two, of Senja’s children.’

  Kaija didn’t like the Karvkh settlement. From the moment she passed the rock towers a sense of dread had settled over her. This forest was cold and bleak, harsh and unforgiving, even in Summer. Before she had seen her mother standing there, hiding behind Vas and the traders, she had wanted to run – to run from the mountains and return to the open grasslands and plains. The yawning cave and stark rocks frightened her, and she found the ground damp and muddy.

  Her depression had only deepened when they entered the camp. She hadn’t seen Fredik in his bearskin, or the men with their dour faces and unwelcoming scowls. What she saw were children sitting in the mud by the pool, sores on their bodies and their eyes too big for their faces. She smelt rotting meat and unwashed bodies, and a sickly, musty odour that reminded her of animal burrows, but she couldn’t place what animal it was. Then she had looked around the people and seen their faces – suspicious, frowning faces. She had nearly turned and run then, but the crowd shifted, and suddenly, she saw her mother, and everything else was for- gotten. She ran towards the woman she thought she had lost and threw herself into her arms, expecting joy and warmth. But instead, she found cold dismay.

  Kaija rubbed her head. It was aching so much. She didn’t know what to think, so she huddled miserably by the fire and watched Vas and Tarin leave the kota.

  Finally, they were alone – Kaija, Luuka and Senja. Sasha had taken the wolves for a walk to the waterfall, with stern instructions not to pull their tails.

  ‘They will bite you, and gobble you all up,’ Luuka warned him.

  Sasha smiled happily and left with the wolves trotting along beside him.

  Now Kaija stared at her mother in dismay. She was like a stranger – older, harder, and completely unfamiliar. ‘Mother, what is it? What is wrong? We thought you dead . . .’

  Senja sniffed in annoyance and shook her head abruptly. ‘Not here.’ She looked around the camp, and when no one seemed to pay them any attention, she rose and walked into the forest, motioning Kaija and Luuka to follow. ‘Wait,’ she said again, crossly, when Kaija tried to speak.

  They climbed upwards, away from the camp, through a tangle of hazel brush and hawthorn, until they stood on a bare, windswept rock that looked down upon the camp, the forest and the river below. Kaija caught her breath at the panorama laid out before her. The air up here was crisp and clean and touched by ice. She drew it deep inside her lungs and turned her face to the wind until her cheeks reddened. Senja stood silent beside her, arms folded across her body and her eyes staring blankly ahead.

  ‘You should have left me dead,’ she said, in a voice so low Kaija strained to hear her.

  ‘But why? I don’t understand.’ Kaija felt tears prick her eyes, but she couldn’t cry until she understood this new coldness, this new anger, in her mother.

  ‘This is where you come from?’ Luuka asked. He stared at their mother intently. ‘The Bear People?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell us before?’

  ‘What difference would it have made to you?’

  Luuka shrugged. ‘I don’t know,’ he said slowly. He picked up a stone and threw it as far as he could. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘I left here before you were born,’ Senja said. ‘I was only a

  little older than you are now . . . cast out . . . alone . . . banished by my people.’

  ‘No!’ Kaija gasped and shook her head in disbelief. She tried to take her mother’s hand, but Senja held herself rigid and moved away. Kaija felt her heart break. ‘You were not my first children, you know, and Retu was not the first son I have buried.’ She was shaking now, and as pale as snow. ‘Always, I am cursed, and I don’t know why.’

  ‘No, mother. You’re not . . .’ Finally the tears spilt down Kaija’s cheeks. She could no longer contain them.

  ‘Cursed to have two babies together. The first time . . .’ She stopped and pressed her hands to her stomach, as though she could still feel life growing inside her. ‘The first time, the babies were born too soon. They couldn’t live, but still they cursed me. My father told me to leave them in the forest, but I wouldn’t do that. I climbed up here, high above my clan, and I dug the cold, hard ground with my bare hands. I dug the ground until my hands bled, and I let the blood fall onto the earth like my tears. I buried my babies in the frozen ground and covered them with stone.’ She looked down at her hands and curled her fingers into fists. ‘I wrapped a single strand of beads around them – the beads I owned as daughter of the Karvkh leader – and placed a mammoth bone above them to protect their spirits, because Mammoth is a strong totem and my babies were too young to have been given their own totem.’ Her voice cracked and she knelt on the ground where two rocks were placed next to each other. ‘I left them here,’ she said, placing her hand on the earth. ‘And stole away in the night. A trading party found me, lost and starving and still sick from the birth. Their healer saved me, and looked after me until I was well. She taught me her skills. They were River Clan and I made a home with them. But again . . .’

  ‘Again . . .’ Kaija’s voice was a whisper. This time she did take her mother’s hand and it felt deathly cold.

  ‘Again, I had two babies, you and Luuka, and again, they looked at me with fear and suspicion. Women who have two babies together rarely live, and yet I have lived and been cursed twice over. I don’t understand.’ Senja whipped her hand away from Kaija and wept. Her eyes were wild and red. ‘Do you know what it is like, to always live your life in fear? To know only hate and to never know love? I was tolerated only because I was a healer, but when the sickness came and I could no longer heal. . .’ Her voice broke. Then she continued. ‘I ran before they could hurt me.’

  Kaija was crying so much she could har
dly speak. ‘We . . . thought you dead. How did you survive? Why didn’t you look for us?’ She fell to her knees and wailed.

  ‘Look for you? Where would you have me start?’ Senja glared at them. ‘Instead I did the only thing I know how to do. I started my life over again. No one would ever know about you. I don’t know why I was spared the sickness –’

  ‘You knew you weren’t sick!’ Luuka stared at his mother. ‘You knew that, and still you told us to run.’

  ‘Yes!’ Senja screamed. ‘Yes. I knew. It was my chance to come back here. I could never do that with you both, and the only way to get you to leave me was to tell you to run.’

  She turned her back on them and Luuka bent to help Kaija to her feet. Only her brother’s arms around her saved her from falling again.

  ‘Why did you have to follow me?’ Senja’s voice was bitter.

  ‘We loved you,’ said Luuka.

  ‘Then leave here, now. This very day.’

  ‘Mother, we have travelled so long to find you. Luuka nearly died!’ Kaija’s grief gave way to the first stirrings of anger. She looked at her mother’s stiff back, but saw only a stranger. Ever since she had learned Senja still lived, she had searched for her . . . longed for her . . . ached to wrap her arms around her and be a family again. This cold rejection was wrong. ‘Luuka nearly died!’ Kaija’s voice rose. ‘After we left River Clan, we both nearly died. Do you wish we had? Look at me!’

  But Senja refused to look at them. ‘I don’t want you here,’ she said. ‘Not now, when there is the chance I shall finally be welcomed home. Not now, when all I want is for my father to look upon me with gladness.’

  ‘But we’re your children,’ Kaija shouted. ‘Why can’t you look with gladness upon us?’

  Senja waved her hands, as though to ward off Kaija’s words. ‘I have no choice now but to admit you are my daughter, but you, Luuka, I will not claim as my son.’

  ‘I don’t want you to.’ Luuka’s voice was hard. ‘But know this – if you reject us now, then we shall never again be alive to you. We will leave here tomorrow. We have had a long, difficult journey and need to replenish our supplies. But in the time we are here, we want nothing to do with you. Do not come near us, or speak to us. We don’t need you, but I think one day you may need us.’

  He took Kaija’s hand and they left their mother to stand alone by the tiny grave she had dug so many years ago.

  ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Tarin said with a stutter.

  Vas gave him a dry look. ‘I mean, I can use these.’ He pointed to his eyes. ‘And these.’ He pointed to his ears. ‘And sometimes I can even use the brain the Great Mother has given me, and I say to you, Senja has two children here today. Am I right?’

  Tarin chewed his lip. ‘Yes,’ he finally said. What was the point of hiding?

  ‘And I also say she is less than pleased to see them.’

  ‘Yes,’ Tarin mumbled. He didn’t understand what was happening between Senja and her children, but he could see how upset Kaija and Luuka were.

  ‘Are they happy to see her?’

  ‘I guess . . . I’m not quite sure . . .’

  ‘Hmm,’ Vas murmured. ‘Tell me, boy. Have you ever seen water squeezed from a rock?’

  ‘No.’ Tarin looked at him suspiciously. He had the idea Vas was laughing at him.

  ‘No? Neither have I,’ said the trader. ‘But I shall keep trying.’ He smiled happily at Tarin. ‘When we found Senja she was starving and hysterical with grief. All her children had died, she said. Her one wish was to return here to the Bear People, where she was born.’ Vas looked around the settlement and raised an eyebrow. ‘To wish to return here, you would have to be mad, don’t you think?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And yet what seems mad to you and I, may make perfect sense to another. If they have no choice.’

  They passed the waterhole where Sasha was throwing mud into the air for the wolves to snap at. All three of them were covered in thick sludge, but Sasha’s laughter rang out and Rohk and Nilkka yelped and bounded around in joyful circles. They were growing big, Tarin realised. They were not quite full grown, but the regular food and care lavished on them meant they were going to be bigger and stronger than regular wolves. He waved to them and followed Vas to the cave entrance.

  ‘So.’ The corners of Vas’s mouth turned up. His eyes twinkled. ‘Here we are.’

  Tarin peered down into the depths, and an unfamiliar smell hit him like a rock. He drew his breath in sharply and Utu hissed and gripped his shoulder.

  ‘What’s that smell?’ he asked.

  ‘You do not recognise it?’ Vas said. ‘No, I suppose you would not. You come from the steppes, after all.’

  He led the way further into the cave. A series of rock steps led downwards, spiralling into the depths. The thick, musty odour that rose like a mist around them made Tarin feel sick. Then he was aware of noises – snuffling and scraping. He looked nervously at the trader.

  ‘The smell is unmistakeable, as is the sight. I think even you, Tarin of Wolf Clan, shall recognise the beast.’

  They had reached the rocky floor of the cave, and Tarin strained his eyes to see into the shadows. A bulky animal lurked there – an animal taller than a man, with broad, powerful shoulders and a wide head. It was covered in thick, brown fur and clasped a large tuber in its claws. It was gnawing at the tuber, making little noises of enjoyment. It turned its head to look at the intruders.

  ‘So, boy. Do you know what that is?’

  ‘Cave bear,’ Tarin whispered, shocked. ‘And a big one.’

  Tarin stared at the huge beast. His hand automatically strayed to his shoulder and rested on Utu. It was a movement that comforted them both.

  ‘Five years ago they brought this one here. He was just a cub, dragged out of his hibernation. Every five years, the Bear People capture a young cub. They feed it, pamper it, treat it as one of their children. Then they prepare for the Bear Festival.’

  ‘You said something about the Bear Festival earlier. That it was going to be a good one this year.’

  ‘That is so.’ Vas nodded. ‘Normally, the festival would be in Winter, when the bear’s stores of fat are thickest and the meat most tender, but the earth tremors have the Karvkh worried. They wish to send Bear to the Spirit World, as their messenger.’ Vas looked down at Tarin. ‘That is Bear’s purpose – he is the messenger between our world and the Great Mother.’

  ‘So they are going to kill him?’ Tarin realised the bear was restrained by a thick rope and took a step closer. He saw now an array of skulls and other bones on the rock ledges around the cave. Sightless eyes stared into the darkness and Tarin shivered. How many times had cubs been brought to this cave?

  ‘Tonight they will dress him in special clothes and feed him special foods, then they will lead him around the camp so that all can say farewell to him and give him messages to take to the Spirit World. When all that is done, he will be killed tomorrow morning as the first rays of the sun touch the mountain.’ Vas paused and looked at Tarin again. His eyes gleamed. ‘In past years, it has been traditional to pit the bear against two wolves in a fight to the death. But this year, they have been unsuccessful in trapping any wolves.’

  The bear had finished the tuber and was looking around the cave. Vas stepped forward and tossed another that lay just out of reach. The bear grabbed it with relish. Tarin was unable to speak. The skin on the back of his neck prickled.

  ‘Ah, I see by the horror on your face, Tarin of the Mammutti, that you understand the point I am making. How fortunate that you arrive here in time for the Bear Festival, and you bring with you . . . two wolves.’

  Tarin turned and ran. Up the rock stairs, falling and scraping his knees and hands, out of the cave, and to the pool where he’d last seen the wolves. But they were no longer there. Footprints in the mud led away from the camp, following the brook as it tumbled downhill through nodding ferns and a thick carpet of moss.

  ‘Luuka!’ he cri
ed.

  Luuka was sitting by the fire in front of the tents, staring at the ground. Tarin ran to him. ‘Luuka! Where are the wolves? And Kaija? We have to go. We have to leave here now. It doesn’t matter about our supplies. Let’s just go.’

  ‘What? Wait! Slow down.’ Luuka grabbed Tarin’s shoulders and shook him. ‘Utu is making more sense than you at the moment.’

  Utu was bobbing up and down on Tarin’s shoulder, sensing his distress. He chirruped and nipped Tarin’s ear.

  ‘Rohk. Nilkka. Fight cave bear.’ Tarin’s voice stuck in his throat and he swallowed. ‘At the Bear Festival. Two wolves are supposed to fight the cave bear.’

  ‘What cave bear?’ Luuka said.

  ‘The one down in the cave.’

  ‘That’s the smell! I knew it was familiar,’ Luuka said. Then he grasped what Tarin was saying. ‘Our wolves? They’re going to make our wolves fight? A cave bear?’

  ‘Vas thinks so,’ Tarin said. ‘It is tradition, but this year they had no wolves. Until we came.’ He grabbed Luuka’s arm. ‘They were at the pool with Sasha, but now they’re gone. We must find them and leave.’

  Luuka nodded grimly. ‘Don’t look around, but Fredik is going into the cave. Tarin, if what you say is true, they may try and stop us.’

  ‘Let them try.’ Tarin ground his teeth. ‘Hopefully Sasha has them safe. You follow their tracks. You’re the best tracker. I’ll find Kaija and we’ll join you. Where is she?’

  ‘I left her halfway back to camp. She . . . she wanted to be alone.’ Luuka grabbed his arm. ‘Tarin, our . . . mother . . . she said things to Kaija . . . to us. I don’t think Kaija will ever forgive her. She may not want to be found yet.’

  Tarin nodded. ‘I’ll find her. You go and find Rohk and Nilkka.’

  Tarin followed the path from the camp to the escarpment. Smaller tracks led off the main path, and Tarin planned to follow each one until he found Kaija, but when he reached the escarpment, there she was, kneeling in the dirt and staring blankly at a tumble of rocks. Tarin hadn’t seen this view of the river and valley and it took his breath away. Then Kaija raised her face, and the sorrow and anguish he saw there drove all other thoughts from his head.