"Aim below where you see the fish, Anya." Gregor's words were suddenly in her mind.
The first dart hit the fish which rolled over on its side. It was probably only stunned! She needed another fish. Anya quickly fired the second dart.
Barely grazing the second fish, the dart flew into the bottom of the pool. Injured, the fish was easily caught and tossed unto the bank behind her.
Grabbing the one that was just beginning to regain consciousness, she threw it up on the bank near the other fish. Anya scrambled out of the water and hit both fish in the head with the throwing stick.
As she turned toward the pool, the other fish were swimming away. They were jostling to get past one another, back to the safety of the river. But these two were hers!
Anya threw back her head to yell to the sky. "Thank you!"
As she was already wet, she ferried her possessions to the other side of the stream. After packing everything up, she put her shoes back on then continued to walk upriver. The two dead fish were safely lashed to her pack with willow bark.
Hunger finally forced her to find a campsite, as the thought of the fish was more than she could bear. The site she picked could have been a bit better, but she did not care so long as there was sufficient material to make a fire along with a good supply of willows so she might dry the second fish.
The willow basket with its nest of moss had kept the coals alive. Anya placed small bits of tinder on top of the coals and blew gently on them. The red glow of the coals increased and a small tendril of smoke began to rise from the tinder. Finally, a tiny flame took hold in the center of the pile. She could now start a fire without using the precious matches.
She smeared one of the fish with a thick layer of mud, encasing it completely. As it sat to one side, she dug a depression for it near the edge of the fire. Quickly she put the mud covered fish into the depression, then raked coals over it. That done, Anya butchered the other fish. Finding its liver, she popped it into her mouth and began to chew.
The taste of the fish oil was greasy and welcome. She cut one side of the fish from the backbone. Turning the fillet over, she cut the meat from the skin. Anya did the same thing to the other side of the fish. The backbone was left, covered with a thin layer of flesh. The filets she cut into long thin strips, which she draped over a small tripod of willow sticks.
How good the oily fish tasted! She licked her lips at the thought of the second fish liver waiting inside the roasting fish.
An idea came to her. It was certainly time to make willow bark cord. If she could put a hook on the end of some cord, as she walked along the bank she could drag a line. Perhaps she could snag a fish. It was not impossible.
Or she could drop a line in the river in the evening when she camped. Perhaps she would have a fish in the morning. But she had to have the cord.
"Very well! No tea tonight" She spoke aloud.
How very odd her voice sounded. She had not spoken to anyone in days. For a moment she was shocked by the sound.
She would talk to Gregor. It had been his words in her head which had helped her catch these fish. "Gregor, tonight I will make willow cord."
Searching out the longest willow wands she could find, Anya cut them from the trunk and went back to the fire. Very carefully, she pared the outer bark from the branch.
"Now, I am to strip off the inner bark, yes?" Anya felt self-conscious talking with someone who not there.
Although there was no one to hear her, she was did not continue to talk out loud. It made her uneasy for some reason, which she did not wish to explore.
Anya silently stripped the inner bark from the pithy wood in a long, thin swirl. She took wood ashes, mixed them with water in her tankard and put the whole thing to boil on a rock in the flames. The thought of the baking fish made her fingers shake as she took her two, now blooded darts, and sharpened the ends. She would fire harden them after dinner.
Scraping away the coals from the depression where the fish lay baking, Anya, dug the dried mud encased fish from the ashes. When she cracked the mud with the handle of the knife, the scent of the fish caused saliva to form in her mouth.
Not wanting to lose a bit of the juice she broke the casing in half. Anya sucked the broth from each half. As she broke away the mud casing, the skin of the fish went with it leaving the succulent meat inside. Anya devoured every tiny flake of the fish and carefully sucked the bones clean of every particle of meat.
Licking each finger in turn, she was amazed at the difference a full meal could make. She had thought to save a portion of the meat, but had not been able to keep herself from eating the entire fish.
No matter. She had the second fish drying. It would be good for tomorrow. Knowing she should be practicing with the throwing stick she looked over at it. Tonight she would just be lazy.
There were two things she intended to do before going to bed. One was to whittle a fishhook, the other was to remove the willow cord from the tankard so it could dry. Cleaning the tankard could wait until tomorrow. She turned it upside down to drain before hanging the willow cord next to the drying fish.
Anya built up the fire and looked around her camp to make sure all was as it should be. Moving the fish drying rack, she brought it closer to her bed. No animal was going to steal her fish. Anya arranged her bed and crawled in between the covers, feeling full and quite tired.
A fleeting thought came to her. How very vulnerable she was, alone in the dark with no real way to defend herself. She dismissed it. Thinking that way was no help at all. She had fire, a spear and a knife. Others had gone on journeys before and lived to tell the tale with no more than she possessed.
But the thought caused her to consider her family for the first time in days. By now they had probably given her up for dead. Anger and resentment against Charles bubbled up inside her. The depth of her anger took Anya by surprise. In many ways she was far angrier with Charles than with Jurekovitch.
Jurekovitch was more than a little unhinged. Charles had been stupid beyond belief. She could do nothing to help her family. Her father would be devastated. Camille, Dmi, little Lexie, Leontine and Samuel, all would be grieving. Tears filled her eyes. All she could do was to get home as soon as she could. Then, she would deal with Charles. From Charles she only wanted one thing, freedom.
Dragging the hook and line did little to provide her with food the next day. Leaving the line in the river all night, did. She found another fish on the hook in the morning. Later in the day she surprised several ptarmigan feeding in a willow grove. Anya was able to down one of them. That night, she dried the fish but ate the bird.
The following day she realized the town was near. There was a great deal of smoke on the horizon. She could see debris from Yeniseysk floating in the current of the river. It was time to become someone else.
That evening she used fine ash to turn her hair a dingy gray. Anya rubbed charcoal on her hands then wiped her face with her hands, leaving streaks of grime on her cheeks. She did not attempt to limp. As one could so easily forget which leg they were supposed to be limping on.
Instead, she made a small pad from what was left of the muslin. In the pad she concealed all but one of the gold nuggets along with her two gold coins. She secured the pad fairly high on her back between her shoulder blades, hoping to create the impression of a dowager's hump. She planned to use the spear shaft as a walking staff.
Anya practiced walking a little bent over. There were enough wild onions in her pack for several days. She planned to eat one raw daily, in order to make her breath strong.
Late that afternoon she came to the town. Yeniseysk was larger than she had thought it would be. That was a very good thing.
An old woman would be able to blend in easily. There were people of all sorts in the streets, hunters, gold miners and those who appeared quite out of place. Anya suspected those people would be exiles, recently arrived from the bigger cities.
She had concocted a story of sorts. After seeing the size of
the town, Anya felt it would work. She was the elderly mother of an exile who had come to join him after the death of her daughter. Arriving unexpectedly, she did not wish to be a burden. The practical goods she was taking to the family were paving the way for an unexpected addition.
Anya found there was a trader who probably had the items she was hoping to buy. Booking passage on the steamer, which took passengers and freight up the Angara River to the Ilim, was something else she needed to accomplish.
Listening to the conversations around her, while waiting at the edge of the crowd, Anya learned the vessel would take her as far as Ilimsk, where the portage began. To reach the Lena River, she would have to use the overland portage from the Ilim to the Lena. Yakutsk was down stream on the Lena River, she recalled. A major town on the Lena, it was her planned jumping off point to go overland.
It would be a long time to keep up her disguise, but it was preferable to being a young woman unattended in the crowd of rough men. These men had a look about them that made her very cautious.
The trader's business was set up in a log cabin near the edge of the village. The actual size of the store was small and the trader only allowed a few people in at a time. She made her selections from the goods laid out.
Her stomach fluttered in anxiety when the time came to pay him with the one small gold nugget. The man waited, his hands lay on the plank, which served as a counter. Anya opened her newly made rabbit skin pouch to dump the nugget out.
She shook the pouch, then looked up at the trader. "Enough?"
There was a small hesitation as he took a good look at her. "Yes. What else do you need?"
"Passage to Ilimsk. Who do I see?"
"I can do that." He replied with a lift of his eyebrow.
He looked at the nugget. "What is your destination? Ilimsk?"
"No, sir." She coughed into her fist and cleared her throat trying to keep her voice low. "I am going to Yakutsk. I have a son there."
"Ah! Well, you will need to talk with those who send freight down river on the Lena. I cannot help you there. But, I can get you on as a deck rider as far as the Ilim."
Anya bobbed as much as the makeshift counter would allow. "Thank you, sir. That is very good of you. My son will appreciate your kindness to an old woman."
He gave her the information that the steamer was not due for several days. The man assumed she could not read. Taking what appeared to be a piece of wrapping paper from merchandise, the trader wrote on it. Anya looked up at him.
"See, here. This says you are to accompany my shipment to Ilimsk." He handed the paper to her. "Put this in your pouch, do not lose it. I cannot be asked to remember every business transaction I make. It is up to you to keep this safe."
Folding it, she stuffed it into the pouch as directed.
The man continued with his instructions. "When the ship is loading. Be sure to show the paper to the steward. He will direct you to the proper place."
Anya thanked him profusely again before leaving with her purchases clutched to her chest. She decided a small, secluded camp would be far better for her than trying to find a place to stay in the rough and tumble town.
Searching far back in the woods, away from the busy town, she found a place she could easily conceal herself in. Anya constructed a hut, which simply appeared to be a mound of dead leaves by using a depression at the base of a tree. After making a simple willow frame she covered it with dead leaf matter and moss. There she would spend the nights. Before the ship left she had a few preparations to attend to. The sooner done, the better.
The boots she purchased were sturdy and would replace her worn out shoes and stockings. Anya purchased a length of dark green woolen cloth to wrap her feet in. That would do in place of stockings.
The axe was a good one, she had hefted it in the store. The head was well balanced. A single blade axe had been her choice as the flat rectangular end of the head would be useful. The flat end could be used as a hammer, or when trying to cut something very difficult, a rock could be used to hammer the axe on through.
Now, she had a fire starter. An old fashioned flint and steel. A lump of beeswax along with more matches were a part of the purchases she made.
Taking her goods to a small clearing in the woods, away from her sleeping place, was the first step in readying herself for the next part of the journey.
Choosing a place a bit distant from Yeniseysk, Anya stood still, listening. She was far enough away so the noise of the constantly busy town was muted. Yet she was close enough that she might be heard if it were necessary. People were curious. If she needed help someone might investigate.
The tinder she gathered lit easily with the flint and steel. With a twig she speared a piece of the beeswax. Anya held it to the flame to warm it. Carefully coating each match head with the wax, she then set them aside to dry.
Her boots were treated next. Spreading a thin smear of wax on one boot, she used a rag to rub it into the leather. Taking special care with the seams, Anya tried to cover the stitches completely.
Unable to buy a hide of any kind, two wool blankets now increased the weight of her pack. Two small copper kettles, which nested inside each other, combined with the tankard would do for any cooking chores.
The second knife was the perfect hand knife. The scabbard was riveted together. It would take a lot of hard use. A ball of tough linen twine was the last item she had located. Now she would make a bow and arrows to go with it. She was much more accustomed to the bow than the throwing stick.
Her pack was several pounds heavier. Later, it might be heavier yet. But it could not be helped. These things were the least she could get by with. Any less and she risked starvation, or death from the cold. She supposed she would get used to the weight.
Anya roamed the forest gathering plants she felt could be of some use. Wrapping the stems in strips of muslin, she hung what she could, to dry. She knew the plants she had here. Anya was not sure what she would find in other areas of the country. It was prudent to make sure to have a reasonable supply of herbs.
Spruce needles she did not worry about, those were easily found. The other herbs would not add substantially to her pack. If someone were sick or injured, they were invaluable.
Food she purchased in town on a daily basis. Bread and cheese sustained her for the time being. She supposed taking a small store of the same food items with her would be a wise thing to do.
Having booked passage as a deck rider she would not have access to meals supplied only to those who could afford it. As far as everyone she encountered, they would surely not believe a penniless widow could afford first class passage, or the food supplied to those passengers.
The second night, concealed beneath her mound of leaves under an overhanging spruce, she heard something other than Russian being spoken not too far from her camp. Something about the phrasing and the language itself gave her a feeling she was listening to a conversation between two natives. She did not show herself, nor did she move. Anya wished she could understand what was being said.
It was better to be safe than to satisfy her curiosity. When the individuals moved away, she remained quiet. If, as she suspected, they were natives that did not mean they were friendly. It did mean they knew the forest. If she was not careful, she could be discovered.
Suspecting there were natives who resented the Russians, she wondered if there would be any way to communicate with them. Hopefully, her Russian would serve.
The distance from Yakutsk across to the eastern coast of Siberia was a very long way. It was not likely she would be able to traverse the land between without help from those who knew it best, the natives of the area. One thing she was hoping to gain on the riverboat trip to Yakutsk was knowledge. She needed information about the country ahead of her and those who lived in it.
As she was sitting cross legged eating a small portion of the bread and cheese, the whistle of the riverboat could be clearly heard. "Good!" Anya mumbled as she stuffed the last bite into her
mouth.
It was time to get her pack, make her way to the wharf and see about securing her place on the boat. Quelling her impatience, she slowed her pace, as befitted an old woman.
There was time to gather her things and get down to the dock. Unloading would take place first. Then the up river cargo would be put on. That was when she needed to be on hand. Hopefully, she would be able to secure a good protected place on deck.
Anya waited patiently to show the note to the steward. On realizing the steward was the same individual as on the previous trip, Anya lowered her head further, being careful not to make eye contact with him. He scanned her timidly offered piece of paper with a nod of acknowledgment.
Waving toward several crates on the deck, the steward handed the document back to her. "Those crates over there. Stand by them. Make sure to keep your possessions close to you. Stay out of the way of the men, they need a clear path to work. Anything left in the way will be disposed of."
She nodded in agreement not wanting to speak as her voice might give her away. The large wooden crates were secured to the deck with heavy ropes. No one wanted such unwieldy things loose on deck in a storm.
Anya was confident the massive crates would stay were they were. She noted a space between the crates belonging to the trader and some smaller crates nearby. The smaller crates contained cast iron implements of some sort. Anya tucked her belongings between the shipments.
If a storm were to blow up she would reconsider the wisdom of remaining in that spot. For the present, she would be out of the mainstream of traffic.
A young woman with two children was looking up and down the deck. She pulled one of the children out of the way of a stevedore, busily coiling a line as he made his way to the stern of the vessel. Anya beckoned to her. The woman dashed across the deck, herding the children before her.
"Here! There is room enough for you and the children with me."
"Thank you missus! I have a small trunk I must get. Do you mind?"
Anya nodded to her. "You must hurry! I fear they will be casting off shortly."
Daughter of the Raven Page 15
