by neetha Napew
Galeena overheard her. “Woman no worry! Tomorrow men hunt. Both bands together, we take much meat. Have plenty eat for all come dark time winter.”
The sun stood high in the sky. Exhausted by what Galeena said was a very long trek to the mountain, his people lounged upon their own filthy sleeping skins and upon the hides and furs that they had freely seized from Lonit’s stores. Scratching at their vermin-infested bodies, some of them slept; others gnawed bones, wolfed meat, gulped fat, cut wind, belched, and coupled freely. Now and again, some of them rose to defecate or vomit; then, thus purged, they ambled back to their sleeping skins to doze or eat or copulate within full view of the unruly boys who scoured the cave for leftovers.
Never in their lives had Torka’s people seen others behave in such a despicable manner, nor had they ever seen such rowdy, offensive youths. Torka would have asked Galeena why the boys had no one to feed them; it did not seem logical to him that they could all have been orphaned. And there were simply too many women in Galeena’s band. No young girls. No toddlers. No infants. And no elderly, either, for that matter just men and women in their prime and a pack of nearly a dozen animalistic boys who ran wild amid the adults, foraging for food and harassing everyone, especially two greasy matrons who sat by themselves beside a sloppily made fire where no man joined them. They were evidently widows; Torka had seen them fight for their share of food as savagely as the boys. Now, as he watched, one of them whacked at the boys with the thighbone of an antelope as the other one stared wistfully across the cave at Umak. The old man ignored her, and Galeena showed no concern over the screechings of her embattled hearth mate or for the brawling boys. The headman was too busy beneath his sleeping skins with his appropriated food and the two giggling, guffawing women who were his wives. Torka knew that he would get no answers from Galeena until the man was rested and sated.
Torka was sickened by the stench and crowding, and at his insistence, his little band had relocated their fire stones, sleeping skins, and what Galeena had left them of their personal belongings. They moved well out of the center of the cave, almost onto the exposed lip of the cornice. The new site was not without drawbacks. When the weather changed. or when the wind grew strong, they would have to build a weather baffle to keep themselves and their little fire sheltered and dry. It did not matter. The air was breathable here, and the stench of Galeena’s people was not totally overpowering. No one objected to their moving; no one even took notice. Galeena’s people were too occupied with their own sleepy, gluttonous pastimes.
As Lonit rearranged her fire stones and Torka and Umak settled themselves, Karana glowered unhappily. “Karana does not like these smelly ones Torka should take his spear and make them go away.”
“Torka is one. They are many. Karana must remember that they have come far. They have suffered much. They are tired and hungry. In time, when they have rested, they will change their ways. They cannot live like this all the time! Karana will see that this is so. And in the meantime, Torka says that it was not so long ago when Karana was a smelly one himself.”
The boy flushed angrily. “Only to keep the big-toothed animals from eating me!”
“Perhaps it is the same with Galeena’s band?” suggested Torka.
Ignoring the stares of Umak and Lonit, Karana knew that he was speaking out of turn, but he did not care. If he did not speak his fears about Galeena’s band, he would have no hope of convincing Torka to change his mind about them. He lowered his voice, speaking in the tone of a conspirator. “Galeena’s people bad people. Maybe they are Ghost Band! Maybe they eat us when all meat is gone! If Torka cannot drive them away, then Spirit Master must make them disappear! It would be a good thing. Then Brother Dog will come back. Then this will be a good camp again!”
Torka’s brows came together thoughtfully. “Galeena’s people are not ghosts, Karana. If Umak made them disappear, we would be alone ... at great risk again .. . and Karana would have no other boys to talk boy-things to. He would have only a dog who cannot understand or speak to answer.”
Umak harrumphed at this, but before he could speak in defense of the dog, Karana bristled and replied hotly.
“Karana does not talk to those who have tried to kill his brother! Aar does understand! And Karana says that one of Brother Dog’s droppings is worth more than all the boys of Galeena’s band!” With this he limped off to stand at the very edge of the cornice, leaning on his crutch of antler, missing his brother dog more than words could ever say.
Slowly the sun slipped behind the mountain to leave the eastern world in shadow. Darkness began to fill the cave. Galeena’s people slept. A chill wind drove Karana back to Lonit’s fire. Neither Umak, Torka, nor Lonit said a word about his earlier display of temper. He sat in sullen silence, trying to think of a way to apologize without altering his position. Galeena’s people were all that he had said, and more. He knew it and would not change his mind. He must make Torka change his.
In the light of the rising moon, a wild dog howled, and from across the unknown country to the east, another dog answered, then another and another.
Karana tensed.
Umak listened. He nodded reflectively, trying not to be distracted by the eyes of the matron. Alone among her people, she was still awake. How long had she been staring at him? And how many winters had come and gone since a woman had looked at him like that? Hmmph. She was not young, but she was not old, either. Beneath her slovenly garments and layers of filth, she might even prove to be human. The possibility was intriguing—so much so that, when he spoke in reference to the dog, he knew that he was not speaking of Aar at all. “Perhaps Brother Dog will not long be alone, without a mate to share the meat that he brings to his camp?” Lonit looked at Torka and sighed as she heard the lonely sounds of the wild, distant animals. Moonlight was silvering the night. “Perhaps Aar will find one of his own kind. It would be a good thing.” In the glow of the moon, Torka had never looked more handsome as she thought: Lonit has found her place beside Torka at last. Even in this camp, with these smelly people all around, it is a good thing.
Karana glared at them. The old spirit master had the oddest look on his face. And Torka and Lonit seemed to see nothing but the reflection of the moon shining in their eyes as they looked at one another. He suddenly felt alone, as though, despite the crowding of the cave and the presence of those who had taken him into their band, there was no one in the world for him, not even a wild dog. For the first time in longer than he wanted to acknowledge, he thought of his people. So much time had passed since they had walked away into the snow-driven mists, promising to return for him and the children. Now, when he tried to recall his father’s face, he did not see Supnah at all; he saw a composite of Torka and Umak. Supnah was far away, lost in the misted past, but someday he would return ... if he could. But Karana was sure that if something had happened to his father, Karana would have known it. And yet, despite his certainty, he saw not his father but the leering, contemptuous smile of Navahk, Magic Man.
Karana shivered. His certainty shriveled. He willed his memory of Navahk away, but it would not go. The magic man’s smile lingered at the back of his mind. His white serrated teeth, with canines as fanged and sharp as any wolf’s, bit at Karana’s conscience.
Karana is an ungrateful son who has forgotten his own people. Was the accusation his own, or was it Navahk’s? He could not tell. He only knew that it was true.
Clouds drifted intermittently across the face of the moon. Within the cave, darkness thinned and thickened. Karana pulled his sleeping skins around his narrow little shoulders. Beside him, Umak drew the skin of the great short-faced bear around himself. It was not fully cured, but the boy knew that if the old man did not keep it close, Galeena or some member of his band would probably try to steal it. As the boy watched, Umak drifted into sleep, as he often did, sitting upright, nodding trancelike, as though he were not asleep at all but in communion with the mystical powers of the mountain. Karana envied him. He wished that he had t
he power of a spirit master so that he could will the sneering image of Navahk from his mind and make Galeena’s people disappear.
The wind was rising, and Karana could hear it hissing against the mountain. From somewhere high above the cave, small stones tumbled, their sound muffled as they plummeted through the veils of one of the innumerable waterfalls that would continue to bleed out of the summit ice pack until the first frost of autumn turned them solid. Karana listened. The dogs still howled. It was a lonely, desolate sound. He wondered if Aar was out there. He wondered if the dog would ever come back.
“Sleep now,” Torka said. “Tomorrow we will hunt. Torka will bring back prime meat, and Karana will wet his skinning dagger in blood.”
Karana lay down and tried to sleep. Torka and Lonit bundled together. It was very quiet in the cave. Only the howls of the distant dogs disturbed the familiar sounds of wind and mountain. Galeena’s people snored, but the sound was muffled beneath their piled sleeping skins. Karana felt the night growing all around him.. He longed for the warmth and strength of the dog beside him. If the smelly ones should go away, Aar would come back to his man-pack. Then Karana would not be alone.
He sighed. He flung a small, slender forearm across his eyes. He tried to sleep. The moon hung low in the western sky by the time he succeeded. The dogs were silent. Far away across the tundra, a blue-eyed, black-masked animal sat alone at the crest of a hillock. It stared up at the mountain. Toward dawn, it slept, whimpering in its dreams.
In the darkness at the back of the cave, a woman of Galeena’s band stirred and wept softly in the arms of a scar-faced young hunter; neither had participated in the debauched feasting of their people. They had no appetite for anything; the grief upon which they feasted had deprived them of all but a deep and unremitting sadness. “Have you been awake all night, lana?” “To sleep is to dream, Manaak, of Big Spirit....” “Big Spirit is far. It cannot come to such a high camp. Galeena has led us well, as he promised. We will have a new life.” His words were a bitter combination of consolation and sarcasm.
“Big Spirit is here,” she said, sighing, and placed a hand over her heart. “With little Ripa, our daughter .. . with all of those who died. Why does he kill even the little ones, Manaak? Why is he so angry?”
“He is a spirit. A big spirit. He may do as he wishes.”
She shuddered. Her hand moved from her heart to touch his face, to linger upon the still-fresh scars. “But what will stop him? No man can kill him, Manaak! No man! Galeena has sworn it.”
“I will kill Big Spirit,” Manaak vowed.
“You must not speak so! If you challenge Galeena again, he will do more this time than have the others cut your face!”
Manaak did not reply. He held her close, wrapped his arms around her, and felt their unborn child move against his forearm. Beyond the darkness of the cave, he could see the fading stars prickling the night. He could hear the shh sound of the waterfalls that bathed the face of the mountain. It was a soothing sound, but he was not soothed. “Did you see the little one? The boy with the limp? The one they call Karana?”
“I saw....”
He heard the catch in her throat. Deep within him, his sadness became anger. “We could have carried him. I could have carried him. Antu was small, and like Karana, not hurt beyond healing. I could have carried him. I wanted to carry him. I—“ His voice broke. He could not go on.
Her fingers caressed his lips. “Galeena is headman. The decision was his. You fought. He cut your face. It was the second time you stood against him, Manaak. And you have said the words yourself. Galeena has led us well, to a new life, to a place where Big Spirit cannot come.
“To a place without children.”
“What was done had to be done for the good of the band. Galeena has said so.”
“These Dog People have not thrown away their little one. Their old man hunts. And he is so old, Galeena would have put him out of our band many winters before he could live to look as he does. Yet he is strong. He hunts and is of use to his people. The one called Torka says that the old man killed the great bear whose skin he wears.”
“The ways of the Dog People are not our ways,” lana soothed. “They too have faced Big Spirit, but look how few of them are left! The one who leads them, this Torka, looks bold and brave, but he has yielded his camp to Galeena, so he must be weak. You see, Galeena’s ways are best. He has led us well. He was right to—“ She stopped, unable to continue. The sadness within her was so great that her soul swam out into it and nearly drowned.
Manaak felt her go limp within his arms. He rocked her as though she were a child. He thought of Ripa, the little daughter whom he had seen die beneath the feet of the killer mammoth, and of Antu, the son he had been forced to abandon when Galeena had led his band into the storm so that his hunters would not be forced to join the other bands whose headmen had elected to pursue the great mammoth and try to kill it. Later two of the survivors had caught up to them and recounted the way their fellow hunters had died. Even though their spears had tasted the blood of Big Spirit, the beast had gone its way, immortal. That was what Galeena had said, gloating while his hunters nodded in affirmation of his decision to abandon the hunt for a creature that could not be killed. Only Manaak had not agreed, thinking that, even though men had died in the attempt to kill it, at least they had tried. At least they had not turned their backs and run like frightened dogs.
“Sleep,” he whispered to the woman in his arms, and he felt her relax and yield to sleep at last.
But Manaak did not sleep. He sat with his back against the mountain wall, and wrapped in the shadows of the ebbing night, he watched the sun rise above the soaring, glacier ridden peaks that rimmed the horizon of the unknown world to the east. Deep within the mountain, something moved, sighed, and moaned. It was a terrible sound, like some huge, living thing trapped within the stone and trying to get out. Yet it was a whispering rather than a roaring. Then it was gone, and Manaak wondered if he had imagined it.
At the entrance to the cave, the man who called himself Torka rose and faced the dawn. He peeled off his tunic and trousers, then went out. A few moments passed before he returned. His body shone of moisture, and his hair was dripping wet. Manaak frowned, knowing that Torka must have allowed the icy water of one of the cascades to wash over him. It was a strange thing for a man to do, he thought, then decided that it must be some sort of religious ritual unique to the Dog People.
Torka stood in the fight of the rising sun, allowing it and the morning wind to dry him. Manaak saw the power of his body and the new scars that marred him. Had the mammoth done that to him? Had he, like Manaak, come close enough to Big Spirit to look into its red eyes and smell its foul breath and see the blood of his people upon its tusks?
Manaak thought of his dead children and of his sad-eyed woman. Then he thought of Galeena, who had led his band into the storms that had decimated them.
Manaak’s mouth flexed downward. Slowly, gently, he eased lana from his arms. Carefully, wishing to rouse none of Galeena’s people, he made his way across the cave and approached Torka. He was impressed by the man’s alertness, for Torka turned to face him before he came close, eyed him watchfully, and scowled with pinched nostrils when Manaak stopped beside him.
They stood shoulder to shoulder. Torka was taller, and stronger, if Manaak’s judgment of such things was sound-and it usually was. His eyes narrowed, measured, searched, and found what they were seeking. lana had been wrong; there was no weakness in Torka. “Galeena seeks safety for his people in Torka’s cave.” He hissed the words provocatively. “Galeena hides from his fears like an old wuhman hiding from those who would put her out of her band to die. What does Torka seek?”
“Torka has found what he has sought. Safety for my people within a new band.”
“And what does Torka fear?”
The question took the warmth from the sun. Torka saw the answer shining darkly in the other man’s eyes.
Manaak nodded. He smi
led, but there was no happiness in the smile, only a twisted, burning affirmation of his own hatred. “Torka has seen Big Spirit ... he has seen his children die .. . and he has looked into the red eye of the beast that Galeena says cannot die.”
“It bleeds. It can die.”
Manaak’s smile deepened. He turned slightly, gesturing out across the tundra. “It is out there somewhere. Be it flesh or spirit, it is out there. It looks for men to kill, for children to crush, for bands that have not found safety in high camps like this.” Torka’s brow furrowed. “Galeena is wise, then. He seeks safety for his people, as Torka has done. Together our two bands will live and hunt as one ... in safety.”
Manaak’s face contorted with disgust. “There is safety for no man, wuhman, or child as long as Big Spirit shares the world with us!” Now Torka gestured broadly and angrily. He resented the pointed censure that he saw in Manaak’s eyes. “Big Spirit is far away. It walks another world.”
Manaak shook his head. “Big Spirit will khum someday for your children and mine. Unless we kill him.”
“We?”
“Torka! Manaak! Together!”
The old, terrible longing to kill the Destroyer came rushing back to roar inside Torka’s head. He took in a breath and tried to quiet the roaring with common sense as he spoke earnestly to the man who called himself Manaak. “Two men cannot kill the Destroyer. Even if they had the power of lightning to speed their spears and set fire to their hearts, we would still not be enough.”
Manaak nodded, relaxing a little. He smiled again, and this time it was a smile, not a grimace of frustration. “Two men could set fiah to the hearts of in any men. And with many hunting together, it could be done.”
“Galeena has said that he has no wish to hunt the great mammoth.”
Manaak shrugged. Sunlight was bathing the interior of the cave. The people of his band were stirring, and their headman was rising, rumpled and retching, from his bed skins. Manaak’s smile disappeared. “Galeena may not be headman foreveh,” he suggested, then turned and left Torka to consider the meaning of his words. Crack!
