The Marrow Thieves

by Cherie Dimaline

  “She didn’t find anything. She always had it. Maybe we just need to be better listeners.”

  I pressed him, “What about strategy? A plan? Shouldn’t we be mounting an attack now? While it’s dark?”

  “This isn’t my territory. Tomorrow we can meet with the Council and figure things out from there.” He yawned and walked out of the ring of light thrown by the fire. “Right now, I need sleep.”

  “We’re off too.” I wasn’t sure Tree and his brother had picked up on the subtle shift in Miig. They stood and made their way over to their tent, more in unison when they were tired than any other time. I noticed their cap was on neither head.

  Maybe that was it. Maybe we were all just exhausted. It’d been another day on the run, another day being woken up by strangers in our space, and then, at the same time, a day unlike any other we’d had. Hell, I was tired.

  Wab started the work of putting out the fire safely, but she had an odd serenity in her movements. Chi-Boy began his usual end-of-the-night patrol. I turned towards the steady drone of Slopper’s snore before Rose grabbed my arm, just above the elbow.

  “Can you come to my place for a minute?”

  The invitation knocked some of my anxiety out of my limbs. I rarely got to spend time with Rose. We were a sad, rushed bunch these days. But the slightest touch and I was right back to being a teenage boy with the biggest crush in the world. I thought maybe it might be more than a crush, what with that afternoon by the river. But I couldn’t be sure. Everything was hot and cold and horrifying and hopeful. Terror is an odd bedfellow.

  “Sure.”

  I crawled in the tent after her and was immediately struck by how empty it was. There was one bedroll in the middle of the space. Against the back wall were her bags, one open with a couple pieces of clothing pulled out. Beside her bed was a small solar-powered lamp that cast a moon glow that didn’t quite reach the corners.

  In here I could smell the angst and earth and awkward of my own body, and I was embarrassed. I stayed by the door while she crawled to the back wall.

  “You okay?”

  I wasn’t sure I was. “Yeah.”

  “That’s crazy, eh? Finding your dad.”

  “Yup.”

  She examined my face for a moment before continuing. “I think Miig is a bit worried.”

  “About rescuing Minerva?” I started to pull off my sweater. It was warm in here.

  “No.” She tilted her head in thought. “No, I don’t think so. I think it’s more about you.”

  “Me?” I paused, my sweater halfway over my head. “What about me?”

  “Well, you’ve changed.”

  I was quiet. Had I really changed, after all? I didn’t feel changed. I just felt … less. Or maybe it was more. Not changed so much as living at a different volume.

  “And I think, even though it’s great that we found your dad, well, you know what happens when we find family.”

  Now she sounded worried. She dropped her beautiful face so that the waves of her hair covered half of it. I wanted so badly to move it aside. I wanted so badly to kiss her again. And I wanted to tell her I wouldn’t leave. That I would never leave. But I couldn’t.

  The memories I carried from the days I’d had with my parents were kept in cradleboards in my mind, situated in complete safety, even the bad ones. In them, there is always this feeling, an understanding more than an emotion, of protection. It didn’t matter what was happening in the world, my job was to be Francis. That was all. Just remain myself. And now? Well, now I had a different family to take care of. My job was to hunt, and scout, and build camp, and break camp, to protect the others. I winced even thinking of it. My failure. I’d failed at protecting, and now, as a result, I failed at remaining myself.

  Maybe I would stay. Maybe it would be the only way I could keep my sanity, to stay with my dad and inch my way back to Francis.

  She made her way, on hands and knees, across her bed and over to me. “I won’t ask you to come with us, French. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

  She was right in front of me now, her face an inch from mine. She smelled like sweetgrass and a deeper smoke. Despite the shock of finding my dad, the odd behavior of Miig, the confusion of the new place and how we arrived, the stress of Minerva’s impending rescue, all I wanted to do was kiss this girl. So I did.

  She didn’t pull away, and so I leaned in until we were pushed back onto the layers of blankets that made up her bed. I pulled back to look at her, to make sure she was good. She smiled, grabbed my braid, and brought me back to her.

  I can’t say how long we were there before the song interrupted us, but when I caught my breath and came out into the bowl of the valley, it was full dark. It was impossible to ignore for a few reasons. For one, any sort of noise could bring the predators, so we tried to stay quiet. And then there was the song itself. That’s what sent me out of the tent.

  “Do you hear that?” she’d whispered through my hair.

  I’d listened. There it was. “Yeah,” I’d responded against her neck.

  We’d stayed still, just listening to the shake of a dry seed rattle, alert to danger, until the singing began.

  Miigwans.

  Now I stood near the firepit and set my feet in the direction of his voice. It was a low, moaning voice, the kind the body used to travel through pain, the kind a child uses when they’ve realized the higher pitched tone used for bringing their mothers isn’t working and they are alone after all.

  From the back entrance of the cave I saw several guards. They too were listening. But since they stayed there by the doorway, I guessed they weren’t too concerned and we weren’t in any imminent danger.

  I found Miig by the southwest wall. He’d lit a smudge and a candle so that his face was clear in the handful of light and obscured by the handfuls of smoke. I stood back a bit while he sang, knocking his rattle against the air and rocking on his heels where he rested.

  It was warmer outside now, and the wind in this valley was minimal. Miig wore a T-shirt and black jeans without the burden of coats, and I was reminded of his life outside of us. The scars from his school stay, the tattoo of a feather below his collarbone, the outline of the buffalo on the back of his hand. His hair was longer than usual, and the sides had grown in so that he seemed younger, less severe. His duct-taped boots were pulled off his feet and placed at the edge of the light where he sat.

  I waited until he was done singing, until after he had mumbled some words and smudged himself. I waited still, while he settled into a more relaxed cross-legged position, and even when he packed up his rattle and a docked feather. I waited.

  “Well, come here then.” He didn’t look up as he put away his bundle.

  I came into the light and sat opposite him, mimicking his cross-legged pose.

  “You still up?” It was an odd question that he didn’t mean, since, obviously, I was still up. What he meant was, why was I still up.

  “Haven’t made it to my tent yet.” I meant it to sound nonchalant, but his return smile made me blush.

  “Rose must be lonely in that tent by herself.”

  I squirmed a bit.

  “It’s okay, boy. All I’m gonna say is babies are the most important thing we have to move ahead. So when they come, they need to come to families that want them and are ready to take responsibility.”

  “It’s not like … I mean, we’re not …”

  He held up his hand. “Don’t worry. No need to explain to me. You’re a good man, French. I already know that.”

  We sat in silence for a minute before I switched gears, the uncomfortable subject making it easier to ask what I really wanted to. “Miig, are you okay?”

  “Are any of us okay?”

  “No, really.” I leaned in to touch his knee. I needed him to know I was serious. “You seem weird since we got here.”
<
br />   “Just since we got here?” He smirked, then waved away his own lightheartedness. “I know what you mean, French.” He gathered the edges of his buckskin bundle and tied them off. “Just tired, I guess.”

  “Yeah, all this running …”

  “No, I’m more tired of missing Isaac, is all. Just an old man with an old love, I guess.”

  All this talk about Minerva and the schools must have brought up a lot of unresolved feelings for him. I thought about him pouring a hundred vials into the ground, one by one, mourning his partner.

  “Well.” I wasn’t sure what to say. “We’ll get Minerva. And then we’ll shut them down. All of them.”

  He looked me in the eyes, the first time since I’d sat down. “I know you will, Francis. I know you will.”

  THE CIRCLE

  We were up early the next day, unsure of where to begin a day without running. Very quickly, though, the work of the main camp took over. We spent the morning in assigned chores: gathering water from the rain barrels to boil, coaxing the small vegetables in the garden to stay alive, washing clothes, checking the trap lines. Soon it was lunch and everyone came together in the clearing to eat.

  “You guys planning a rescue for your Elder?” Clarence had sat beside me in a spot where the grass was soft. He was eating dried meat. I had made him promise earlier to teach me how to dry and smoke meat so we could keep it longer when the hunt wasn’t so good.

  I nodded, not wanting to talk anymore since the asshole from yesterday had sauntered over. Clarence followed my gaze to the boy.

  “This is my nephew, Derrick,” he told me. “We travelled together from out west. He’s a good hunter.”

  By then he was standing in front of us. I had to put my hand up along my brow to block out the sun to see him. I didn’t like it, looking up at him. I wanted to stand, but didn’t want him to think I needed to get up to prove anything.

  “The best, Uncle. I’m the best hunter.” He smirked and lightly kicked the bottom of Clarence’s boot with the toe of his own.

  “Yeah, yeah. And he’s real humble, too.” Clarence laughed. “Derrick, you know Jean’s boy, Francis, eh?”

  “French,” I corrected.

  “Yeah, sure, I know Francis. I, ah, escorted him over here yesterday.” He made air quotes around the word escorted.

  “Whatever. Big man with a gun.” I decided to ignore him, looking back down at my bowl of salted potatoes. He didn’t deserve my attention.

  “No, Francis. I’m a big man always. Don’t need a gun, though I am capable of using one when I have to.”

  Clarence cut the boy off. “Okay, Derrick, why don’t you get yourself some food over there.”

  “Yeah, I think I will go get some food, Uncle. I have to check the lines this afternoon. Someone has to feed the women.” He stretched out his arm and puffed out his chest before leaving, blocking out the sun so that I was thrown into his shadow.

  “Don’t mind him. He’s just looking for something to rub his antlers on, you know what I mean?” Clarence clapped me on the back. “Plus you have girls in your group. He’s just looking to prove himself.” He ripped off another hunk of meat and chewed it thoughtfully, looking around the clearing.

  Suddenly I wasn’t hungry anymore. I swallowed what was in my mouth and excused myself. I handed my bowl off to Slopper and a smaller boy his age named Sam, who were the designated dishwashers for the meal, and wandered over by the lodge, planning to walk the perimeter of the clearing just to check things out. I still felt uneasy. Maybe I just needed to get a better handle on where we were and what was ahead of us. I sure as hell didn’t want to think about where we’d been and what I’d done. And now we were here with his group, and there was this ass who was trying to impress the girls by being a dick to me. What was up with that? I walked at a brisk pace to avoid the others. I needed to think.

  “Hey, wait for me.” Rose jogged over. Her hair was pulled back in a loose bun that bounced like a pompom on a toque as she ran. I kept walking, a little slower than before.

  “Where ya going?” She caught up and walked beside me. “Thanks for waiting, geez.”

  “Nowhere.”

  She walked at my pace, swinging her arms and kicking at rocks along the way. I made my way over to where the hill started its incline, dotted with low shrubs and a thin veil of elm trees.

  “Well, what are you doing?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?”

  I just nodded, making my way through the bush but still behind the trees so I had a better view of the green bowl of the clearing. Why did things still feel so uncertain even after I’d found my dad? It had been years since I’d even allowed myself the fantasy of imaging he was still alive, and yet here we were, together. And still …

  I didn’t realize until I had walked a few feet that Rose was no longer with me. I turned and saw her there at the bottom, arms crossed, hip thrown out. “You coming?”

  “Well, do you want me to?”

  I shrugged. “Up to you.”

  She unfolded her arms and placed them on her hips. Then she turned on a heel and stomped away. I shrugged again and walked in the opposite direction.

  “Tonight’s social night over in the cave.” General was visiting with Miigwans when I returned to our group’s circle of tents. They were chatting in the last moments of daylight.

  General was a pleasant looking man who wore his grey hair at shoulder length and had a neck hung with beaded ropes. He smiled a lot, the kind of smile that went right up into his eyes, and maybe for this reason alone I agreed to follow them over to the cave to check out the festivities. When we got there they were still cleaning up and placing seating in a circle, facing inward towards the center of the space.

  I excused myself from the two men and made my way over to my father’s room. Since the door was a blanket and the walls were mostly fabric, I knocked on the wooden frame around the draped doorway. “Dad?”

  “Come in.” He was sitting on his bed, wrapping his damaged leg in a tensor bandage. He smiled when I entered. He was wearing a long undershirt that had been black at one time, but was now faded to grey, and what looked like a pair of tropical print swimming trunks that hung wide on his thighs. His damp hair was freshly cut, and he smelled like good soap. “Boy, I could get used to hearing Dad again, let me tell you.” He patted the mattress beside him, and I sat down, sighing as I did.

  We sat there for a minute, in silence.

  “Boy, what’s the matter?”

  I couldn’t answer. Instead I shrugged again, slumping my shoulders after so I could put my elbows on my knees and hold my face in my hands.

  “You sure look like something’s the matter.”

  I couldn’t answer him because I really wasn’t sure what was wrong. On top of that, I felt guilty that I wasn’t happier. We’d found Minerva, now all we had to do was get her from the Recruiters. And I’d found my dad after all this time. It was really two miracles in one, and all I could do was feel sad and confused.

  Dad finished wrapping his stump and leaned back on his elbows. “French, can you tell me something?”

  “Sure, Dad.”

  “What is it you’re hoping to find out here?”

  I answered too quickly. “Minerva.”

  “No, no. I mean, why Minerva?”

  I was getting irritated. “What do you mean, why? Because she was taken. I spent the first two years in the bush trying to find Mitch after he was taken. Because that’s what we do. We look for each other. Didn’t you bother to look for us?” I regretted it as soon as I’d said it.

  “I did, son.” His voice was low, but calm. “Every day.” He rubbed a memory of an injury on the side of his ribs. “No matter what. I didn’t set up this camp to be my community, Francis. I brought these people together so that we could find our community. But, eventually, that’s what we
became in the absence of the other. But it doesn’t mean we stop searching.”

  I didn’t understand until he said it that part of my ennui had been resentment. Resentment that my father was out here being all revolutionary while his kids were left with an unstable mother who eventually left us all alone. That I hated him for leaving Mitch to sacrifice himself for me. That I was angry about my childhood left to wither and starve in the woods.

  He put an arm around my shoulders and shook me a bit as he spoke. “No one could have guessed the speed and cruelty of this machine once it started up. No one knew what was coming. If I had, I never would have left that day. I would have taken you and your brother and your ma and run north as fast as I could, while I still had both legs.”

  I leaned into his side and just lay there for a minute, listening to the pull and thump of his broken heart against my hard head. “I’ve done things, Dad.”

  He hummed, low in his chest so that it filled my ear with cotton. “We all have, son.” He kissed the top of my head like he used to when I was little, and I felt that good sense of safety once more, even just for a minute.

  The blanket at the door was pulled back.

  “Hey, you guys coming or what?” A young man I hadn’t seen before popped his head into the room, then popped back out. We heard his feet hurry away, and then there was a sound I hadn’t heard since I was young — so young that all I remember is the sound and not where I was or who I was with when I heard it. It was the sound of a drum.

  They hit the drum tentatively at first, checking for tone and pitch. When we passed the food prep area, I saw Clarence holding it over the homemade element they simmered with, a hole in the dirt ground filled with heated rocks from the fire outside. It was a hand drum, and he held it by the sinew ties crisscrossing the back, tilting it towards the heat to tighten the skin over the front.

  We made our way to the circle of seats, and my father took one beside Bullet. I stood on the other side of Dad and looked around. Most of the seats were taken. Half a dozen little kids chased each other in and around the adults, who watched with smiles. Bullet seemed to be the oldest one here, and she couldn’t have been more than sixty-five. There were about fifty people in total, a big enough group that invisibility the way we enjoyed it was out of the question. So they had to live differently, carving out communities in the spaces they felt they could defend. It was a precarious existence, to say the least.