by Avery Kloss
We knew where the other holes were now, Sungir having shown them to us. In the middle of the night, we heard a loud cracking sound, something having fallen into one of the holes. Sungir went to investigate, returning with a smile. He had captured a rather large, furry animal with ferocious teeth and claws. We stripped the fur off and ate the meat, the meal delicious, lasting for days.
When the wind raged and the first storm came, we stayed by the fire, while a blanket of white fell outside. My leg remained bound, but I hadn’t felt pain in a long time, a strange itching occurring. I prayed to the gods to help it heal well, so I would not limp. I wanted to have full use of it, because any chance of survival diminished if I could not run or climb. The great storm trapped us in the shelter for many days, although we ventured out when the need called for it.
During the cold times, Sungir sat with us, often demonstrating how to cut stone, making a variety of implements, which could be hefted into wood or bone handles, thus producing tools or weapons. Often the sound of scraping or stones smashing together mingled with Penua’s babbling, the man always working on something.
Sungir held up an expertly carved bone point, which he made from antlers. “I’ll use this in a spear.”
I examined the one I made. “Will this be a spear too?”
“No.” He shook his head, sitting cross-legged on a pelt. “That’ll be an ax. I’ll show you and Ara how to make spear tips. You’re working something simpler first. You have to practice to gain the skill required for such a thing.”
The wooden door moved, Kia appearing. She returned it to its place, the door having been made of branches and lined with warm pelts to keep the cold out. She smiled at us. “You’re busy working.”
It gladdened me to see her in good spirits, because for many nights she cried herself to sleep, the loss of Magnon a wound that might never heal. To everyone’s astonishment, Sungir now slept in Hanna’s pelt, the two mating late into the night.
“We are.”
“I’m showing them how to make their own tools.”
“That’s man’s work,” she murmured.
“It’s everyone’s work.” Sungir chipped away at a stone, tiny, white flecks falling free. “It’s in everyone’s interest to be self-sufficient. We’ve time to work these stones now. When the cold season’s over, the girls are going to learn to hunt and kill game.”
What he said bothered me. “Not the big cats, please.” I swallowed nervously, remembering how ferocious they had been—how lethal.
“No. We’ll start with stags. Then we’ll try for the greater animals, the woolly creatures.”
“Peta’s hardly taller than your waist. She’s not nearly strong enough for such a thing. Even if she killed an animal like that, which is unlikely, she’d never be able to bring it anywhere. They’re far too big. Our hunters did this sort of thing in a large group.”
“The smaller of the woolly animals. I’m not talking about the mammoths. We’ll mostly try for stags. They’re always prevalent.”
Kia seemed doubtful. “She won’t be able to run. That leg will never be the same again.”
Sungir grinned. “You have no faith in my healing abilities. You offend me.”
She bowed her head. “I did not mean to offend.”
“I’ve set many such bones. My father taught me how when I was a boy. I’ve never had a bone heal crooked. She will walk again—soon. She’ll run too.” He glanced at me. “You’ll see, Peta. That leg will be good as new.”
Ara eyed the gash in her leg, which healed, the skin pinkish. “This is looking better.”
Hanna stirred, having slept with Penua. “I should do something useful. I’m so lazy.”
“Your baby’s growing,” said Sungir. “When the snow melts, we’ll have a shelter full of babies.”
The mention of this brought a smile to Kia’s face, her belly larger. “I’m anticipating that the most. After everything … the horrible things that have happened, I cannot wait to hold my baby in my arms.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Curling up by a fire on a cold, blustery day with a warm pelt to sleep in brought immeasurable joy to my life. We sat by the flames making baskets and sewing leather into skirts. We cut leather into pieces for the newborns to use, the kind of underthings Penua wore. Sungir had all manner of hand-made tools, an ivory tonged comb included. Ara and I worked out the knots from our hair, spending countless hours at this task. It seemed like the tangles would never end.
When Sungir took the brace off my leg I worried how it would look, having seen others with the same injuries, the bone pushing against the skin oddly. I feared such disfigurement, fully expecting to see it, but my leg looked exactly like the other. Everyone watched the grand unveiling, Kia’s eyes widening with surprise when I walked unaided around the room, the leg perfectly healed.
“What did I tell you?” Sungir beamed, pride and pleasure dancing in his warm brown eyes. “Am I not a good healer?”
“You are.” I did not feel pain, nor did I limp. I ran to him, throwing my arms around him. “Thank you.”
“It’s the least I can do, since it was my hole you fell into.”
Kia smiled. “Thank you, Sungir. You are a gifted healer. I’ve never seen bones mend so well before.”
“Thank you,” he murmured, looking quite pleased with this outcome.
One morning, after the women left to forage, I held Penua, the baby having just woken from a nap. Sungir worked a spear tip, chiseling away at the stone with another, the sound filling the room.
“Why did you leave your people?” I had been wondering this for quite a while, waiting until we were alone to ask him.
He blinked, not having expected the question. “It’s not something I wish to discuss.”
“We’re alone. No one else has to know.”
His white beard fell into his lap, the stones in each hand. “What do you care? Why is it so important?”
“I’m trying to understand people. I don’t know why my people like to kill Kia’s people.”
“They fear something that’s different.”
“But that’s hardly a reason for murder.” I had nightmares about what happened at the cave, images of the heathens and their atrocities vivid in my mind. I wished I could forget it, but it came to me often, especially when I tried to sleep. “What’s so terrible about Kia’s people?”
“There’s nothing terrible.” He stopped scraping to stare at me. “It’s the way of things, Peta. It makes no sense to me either. I’ve seen raids such as the one you experienced. I’m sorry your clan was slaughtered. I know Kia’s still mourning. My sympathies to her.”
“His name was Greggor, the leader of the heathens. I’ll never forget what he looked like either.” I shivered at the thought.
“I can imagine. I’ve never heard of Greggor.”
“Why did you leave your people?”
“Blasted! You’re determined to annoy me.”
I shrugged, marveling at the outburst. He never usually raised his voice. “Then don’t tell me.” Lowering my gaze, I eyed him through my lashes, hoping he might change his mind.
“I left because I was … I was too good of a healer.”
That confused me greatly. “What?”
“I was too skilled. I came upon the clan after my father died. The two of us lived alone in a hut like this. He taught me everything I know. After he died, I wasn’t older than a boy. I ventured off on my own in search of other people.” He looked grim. “That was my first mistake.”
Listening, I chewed on a nail, as the fire warmed my back.
“The clan took me in. They had a healer, someone quite old. I watched this man for many days. He was trusted among the clan, someone they knew for all their lives. A great many people died after being treated by him. I knew better than to say anything about it, but I began to gather the herbs I needed. I treated one woman for a festering wound, which healed after she applied the ointment I made for her. I helped a woman with a di
fficult delivery, which should’ve killed both mother and baby. The baby wasn’t turned in the right direction. They both survived. As word spread about my abilities, the people of the clan sought out my services more than the old healer.” He sighed.
“And?”
“And this angered the man. He had the ear of the leader, and together they sent me on my way.”
“They made you leave?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes.”
“What happened?”
He scratched his neck. “I went to hunt with several men, but they didn’t have hunting on their minds.” His look grew stark. “They hit me over the head with an ax. They left me for dead.”
I gasped. “How did you survive?”
“The gods spared me for some reason. I bled quite a bit.” He touched his head. “I have the scar still, but my hair hides it.”
“Did you go back to your clan?”
He appeared horrified. “No, of course not. Only a fool would do that. I had only a spear and a pelt. I was forced to find shelter and begin again, only this time, I came here and built the dwelling you see now. I’ve been here for many, many seasons. I shall die here.”
“Aren’t you lonely?”
“I have visitors in the warmer days.”
“You do?”
“People come for ointments and healing. They travel long distances to seek my services.”
“But what about those terrible holes?”
“Like I said, my friends know where they are. Strangers and people who wish me ill do not.”
“It’s best not to live in a clan.”
“It has its advantages.”
“But you won’t do it again.”
“No. I’m set in my ways. I live comfortably now. I’ve a garden, and the forest provides.” He paused and then continued. “If you stay, I’ll teach you what you need to know.”
“Like killing stags?”
“Yes.”
“Do I have the strength to throw a spear?”
“As soon as the season improves, you and Ara will practice. You’ll develop strength and skill that way.”
“What if we leave?” I did not know what Kia’s plans were, the woman waiting out the pregnancy in comfort, like Hanna.
“Why would you?”
“You like Hanna. Would you be sad if she left?”
“I would.”
“You’re not alone anymore, Sungir.” I smiled at the exasperated look on his face.
“I’ve been invaded by women.” He eyed me. “Girls. But, you’ll grow. They always do. You’re welcome to stay, if you wish, but you must learn a skill. You and Ara must learn to hunt. I won’t have you lying about without a purpose. Hanna and Kia have their hands full with babies, or they will soon enough. You … you can make yourself useful.”
“I look forward to learning from you, Sungir.” I had never met anyone gifted like him before, his intelligence admirable and his kindness appreciated. “It would be an honor to learn half of what you know.”
He chuckled, “If that. It would take many seasons to learn everything, and, even then, you might not have the capacity to do what I do. If you stay long enough, you’ll at least know how to hunt and the art of childbirth. You and Ara will be helping in that endeavor.” I must have looked horrified, because his eyes sparkled with mirth. “It’s something every woman should know, Peta. You’ll have your own babies one day.”
“I think not.”
“You will.”
“And who will be my mate? You’ll be long dead. I don’t see any other males here.”
“No one knows what the future holds. You’re to focus on the things I’m teaching you. That spear point you’ve made is a good start. It’s not nearly fine or sharp enough, but you’ll improve with time.”
“I tried my best.” Glancing at my hands, I had cut them here and there, the tools we used sharp.
“You can do better with practice. Every skill requires dedication and practice.”
“You speak to me like you’re my father.”
“You lack one.”
“I had a mentor before too, before the flood.”
“Every child should have one.”
“His name was Ronan.” I held up the purple pendant. “He gave me this stone. He made the necklace for it too.”
“That is very pretty. He was obviously fond of you.”
“He made one for Ara too. He was … he is kind,” I amended. “I hope to see him again someday.”
“It must’ve been an extraordinary flood to kill so many. I’d not heard about it until you came.”
“We climbed a tree to avoid it, but we were trapped there for several days.”
“Did you have any provisions with you?”
I shook my head. “Some dried meat, but not much else.” Then I remembered Ronan’s basket filled with tools. “And some tools. We were terribly hungry and thirsty.”
He appeared thoughtful. “A person cannot last long without water.”
“No. I made a hole in the trunk of the tree. Then I took a bone and pounded it in. We had a trickle of water then.”
“You were told to do this?”
“No.”
“How did you know to get water that way?”
“I don’t know, but we couldn’t drink the water below because dead animals and people were in it.” I shrugged. “I remember looking at the tools for an answer. We had axes and spear tips and pieces of bone. Then I thought about how the tree might get water.”
“Indeed.”
“It has to drink somehow.”
“Yes.”
“And I hoped that water might be hidden within.” I smiled. “And it was.”
“You’re a smart girl, Peta.”
“Everyone drank from it. It was clean.”
“You saved your family through your own inventiveness. You might do well to learn from me, girl. Our race is the smarter one. We’re clever. We find solutions. I don’t mean to insult Kia and Hanna and Ara. Their kind won’t survive the future, no matter how well they are at breeding. The future belongs to those who can find ways to make living easier.”
I pondered that, eyeing him. “And you do that by … keeping to yourself?”
“That is how I choose to live, but I also grow things. Come the warmer season, you’ll see my garden. I feed myself rather well. With so many to provide for, I’m going to have to make the garden bigger. You and Ara will help me.”
“I’ve never heard the word garden before.”
“It’s essential if a person is to stay in one place. I prefer to live here. I’m safe. It’s familiar. I don’t wish to rush off in search of game like the hunters. It’s dangerous, and the game will eventually play out. I’ve chosen to sustain myself with this piece of land. I’ve done it for many, many seasons.”
I found that idea utterly fascinating, murmuring, “Finding an ideal spot and never leaving.” That sounded like a dream—a fantasy that could never happen. The gods would not allow it, would they? Had my luck finally improved?
“Yes.”
“Then it is possible?”
“Of course.”
But I frowned, knowing the truth. “It would only be ruined by men.”
“What do you mean?”
“By marauding heathens bent on killing.” The fantasy drifted away, replaced by the bitter reality of life. “They would come and destroy everything.”
“You’ve been through a great deal of tragedy for someone so young. You’re scared by it; I can see that. I hear you in the night … your dreams plague you. Often the slightest noise sends your eyes about the room. You jump when I work stone. This will improve with time.” He smiled sympathetically. “The more you learn, the stronger you’ll become. You’ll know your own strength. You won’t fear the wind any longer. I’m not concerned about a band of heathens at my door. They may come, if they wish, but they’ll not live long.”
“How? Why?”
The smile deepened. “I have secre
ts. I’ll share them, if … you prove worthy.”
Chapter Thirty
The first baby arrived in the middle of the night, Kia having gone into labor earlier in the day, her belly contracting at regular intervals. Sungir knew when it was safe for a woman to push, inserting his fingers between her legs to make sure she had opened enough. He made Ara and I do this as well. I felt squeamish about it at first, but he insisted. I had never put my fingers in such a place, even on my own body.
Kia held her baby girl, nursing her shortly after the delivery, a tired smile on her face. “I’ve been thinking of a name.”
I stared at the tiny bundle, the skin as dark as sun-dried leather. “What?”
“Maggi.”
“After Magnon.”
“Yes.”
It remained doubtful that Magnon was the father, because the men of that clan shared women, but it pleased her to think she was his. “It’s a wonderful name, Kia. I like it.”
Sungir gave her a bladder filled with water. “Drink. You need to eat something as well.”
She rested upon several pelts, the fire ablaze beside her. “I’m fine. I feel … better.”
We had passed the cold season in comfort, never once lacking for anything. “Did it hurt a great deal?”
“It was difficult towards the end. I’ve never felt anything like it before. It’s over now.” Her features softened, as she gazed at Maggi. “It was worth it. I shall treasure this little one. She’ll always remind me of my time in the cave, the best moments of my life.”
“There will be other good moments,” said Hanna. She sat nearby, her belly bulging.
Kia appeared doubtful, yet resolved. “No. I’ll never find a man like him again. That feeling … that joyous feeling. He was my one true mate; that won’t happen again. Such a thing can never last. I should’ve known that. But, I won’t cry anymore. I’m content now.” She eyed the baby at her breast, the newborn suckling quietly. “I’ll not be lonely again.”
I hadn’t realized how strongly she felt about Magnon, never hearing anyone speak this way of a relationship before. Fingering the pendant, I pondered it, wondering if I would ever find a love like that.
