by Dakota Chase
Rabbit didn’t argue with her, but I saw him roll his eyes when her back was turned. I had to bite back a smile. He reminded me a lot of Ash—a smartass through and through.
The mush tasted like what you’d get if oatmeal and grits had a baby. Sticky, gummy, and bland. Still, it filled me up, sticking to my ribs—and probably every organ it came in contact with on the way down, because the stuff was like glue. When I finished, I drank the tea, which tasted a lot better. I’d been right. It was mint and something else, something sweet. Honey, I realized, probably straight from the comb.
Ash finished his bowl of mush, which amazed me. I would’ve thought for sure as soon as he took a mouthful he’d spit it right back out again. He wasn’t a foodie by any stretch of the imagination, but his usual preferences involved lots of saturated fats, sugar, or salt, and sometimes all three at once. He must’ve really been hungry to eat the mash without complaint.
“So, how are we going to carry him out to the field?” I stood up and motioned toward Rabbit. The impromptu stretcher we’d used to bring him home to the Bison Clan had been disassembled when Summer Wind first treated his leg.
Ash shrugged. “I guess we could make another stretcher.” He eyed a half dozen spears leaning against the wall of the cave.
“I don’t think Bear Paw would be too thrilled if we used his spears to make a stretcher. We’ll have to cut down a couple of saplings.”
“Great. Just how I wanted to spend my morning. Sawing down trees with a sharp rock.”
Summer Wind returned to the fire carrying the solution to our problems with her. She unrolled a strong mat woven from reeds and long leather thongs. “Help me move him to the mat. Carefully now. Try not to move his leg too much.”
We put our backs into lifting Rabbit and slowly easing him onto the mat without jiggling his broken leg more than absolutely necessary. I noticed the stoic expression on Rabbit’s face—the move had to be painful, but he never made a sound. He was probably too worried Summer Wind would rescind her permission for him to go to the practice field if she thought he was in too much pain. Tough kid.
Ash and I each took an end of the reed stretcher. Loops of leather formed handles on either end, and we used these to lift Rabbit up and carry him out of the cave. The reed stretcher worked really well—it was sturdy and bore Rabbit’s weight without a problem. I realized he probably wasn’t the first person to be injured enough to need to be carried back to the cave. I was beginning to understand exactly what a rough, dangerous world we were in. People must get hurt all the time. It made sense that the Bison Clan would’ve devised a way to carry them.
The usual group of teens was already at the practice field, hurling spears across the grassy stretch of ground to the targets. They broke rank and ran to Rabbit when they saw him, all offering words of welcome and encouragement. They were his age mates and his friends and seemed genuinely happy to see him back in training, even if he couldn’t walk yet.
Bear Paw and Musk Ox were both there. Bear Paw gave an atlatl to Rabbit. “Summer Wind will wear my manhood on a necklace if she finds out I let you try to stand, Rabbit. You can sit on the stump over there and try casting your spear. And she made me promise to bring you back when the pain grows too fierce.”
Rabbit didn’t look pleased, but he nodded and accepted his atlatl from Bear Paw. He cradled it in his arms like it was a well-favored pet he hadn’t seen in a while.
Musk Ox carried two longer wooden atlatls in his hands and gave one each to Ash and me. “These are yours to use until you can either make your own or trade for ones made to fit your arm. You will want them made soon, not only so you can practice with them, but so that the spirits will become familiar with them and find them easily on your manhood hunt.”
“Who can we trade with?” Neither Ash nor I had any skill at carving, and I wouldn’t be surprised if we sliced off a finger if we tried to sculpt an atlatl out of a hunk of wood.
“Badger makes the luckiest atlatls. He made mine. Look, he carved a rhino on it.” Rabbit held up the atlatl Bear Paw gave him for us to see.
It was shorter than either of the ones Musk Ox had given us and had obviously been made to fit Rabbit’s arm. It was about as long as Rabbit’s arm, if you measured from fingertips to elbow, and had been sanded down so it had a smooth, uniform finish, with no gouges or splinters. A stick figure of a rhino had been carved into it.
“What do you think he’d take in trade?” We didn’t have anything with us, valuable or not. Merlin had dropped us there with only the clothing on our backs. Whatever the price Badger demanded for making our atlatls, we’d have to find it ourselves.
“Lots of things are good to trade.” Rabbit paused as if thinking. “There are big, flat sea shells that sometimes wash up on the beach. They make good cups or spoons, and the little spiral shells make pretty necklaces. Meat, tools, hides or furs, fangs, claws, wooden bowls, or dried food…. My father gave him a piece of amber for mine. It was as big as a robin’s egg. My sister, White Tail Deer, was so angry when she found out—she’d wanted it for a necklace.” Rabbit snickered.
From the list Rabbit rattled off, the only things I thought Ash and I might be able to procure by ourselves were the seashells. I turned to Ash. “Looks like you and I are going to need to take a trip back to the beach.”
Ash reacted in typical Ash fashion. “Are you nuts? You think we’re going to hike all the way across the grassland and through the forest to the shore? You must be out of your mind.”
“Well, unless you have a better idea, we are.”
“Dammit! I’m not schlepping all the way back to where we started. There are things with big teeth out there!”
“I know. At least now we have spears.”
“Yeah, because we’re so good with them. Neither of us have managed to hit the target more than once or twice.”
Bear Paw stepped in before things got out of hand. “There is a much shorter route to the sea than the one you took when you returned Rabbit to us. I believe the spirits made you go the way you did so you would find Rabbit, but there is no reason you need to travel that way again. If you wish to visit the sea, you need only travel in that direction for a half day.” He pointed toward a gently sloping hill to the east of the cave. “If you leave at daybreak, you can follow the sun as it wakes and will reach the sea by the time it is directly overhead. Then follow the sun as it goes to sleep to return to the cave of the Bison Clan.”
“See?” I smacked Ash on the arm. “Easy-peasy.” I grinned and put a checkmark in my mental tally for points made. Score one for me.
“Ass.”
“You know, you talk about mine so much I’m almost convinced you have ass envy.”
He sputtered and marched away. At the throwing line, he fit a spear into his atlatl and hurled it. He must’ve been pissed because it flew straight as an arrow across the field and embedded into a target. When he turned toward me, the grin on his face was annoyingly smug.
I mouthed the word “ass” at him. I couldn’t help myself. He really was one.
We spent the rest of the day practicing. Ash and I became competitors, and I was determined not to let him beat me. By the end of the day we were sweaty, sore, and irritatingly even on how many times we’d each managed to score hits in the target. Worst of all, neither of us was even close to the level of expertise the other kids had.
“Well, they’ve been practicing since they were little, right? I mean, we’ve only been at it for a couple of days.” Ash rubbed his shoulder. I figured his throwing arm was sore—I knew mine was.
“True, but we need to get just as good, and we need to be quick about it. Our lives could depend on it when we go on that hunt, Ash.”
“I know, I know. Seriously, why can’t Merlin ever dump us somewhere we’re the experts? Like in a paintball field, or at a trampoline park?”
I snorted. “Yeah, because everyone knows trampoline parks are famous for their ancient artifacts.”
“Shut up.”
>
“Look, the point is in order to get really proficient, we’ve got to get atlatls custom-made for us, and the only way to do that is to have something to trade. Since we can’t hunt or knap flint or tan leather, the only things I can see us getting are seashells.”
Ash nodded, but it was clear to me he was agreeing only because he couldn’t think of a better solution. “So, we go in the morning?”
I agreed. “Yeah. We’ll see if Summer Wind can give us some supplies in case we need to spend the night on the beach. Shouldn’t take us longer than that.”
“I hope not. If you remember, there were no hotels or fast-food places on this version of Virginia Beach.”
Chapter Eleven
WE WOKE while it was still full dark. Only the glowing red embers in the fireplaces provided any light at all inside the cave. Truth be told, I hadn’t really slept, and I doubted Grant had either. Leaving the security of the Bison Clan and heading back into the wilderness and the million ways it could kill you wasn’t exactly conducive to sweet dreams.
“Hey, you awake?”
I turned toward the sound of Grant’s voice and saw his silhouette sitting up on the other side of the fireplace. In addition to the two of us, Rabbit and Summer Wind also shared the hearth, and both of them remained soundly asleep.
We’d told Summer Wind about our plans the night before, and she’d supplied us with a pouch filled with strips of jerky and some sort of small, dried, unidentifiable patties she called “traveling cakes,” which she said hunters ate when on the move chasing herds. In addition, she’d given us a water bag made from the stomach of some animal—gross, I know, but surprisingly effective for carrying liquids—and a large piece of leather we could use to pitch a pup tent. She also lent us a fire-making kit, which was a small pouch containing an iron pyrite striker and flint and bits of fluff to use as kindling. It was very similar to the one Rabbit carried, and I made a mental note to keep my eyes peeled for iron pyrite and flint so I could put one together for Grant and me to use.
We each had a backpack of sorts too, lent to us by Bear Paw. They were made from pieces of leather stretched over a bone frame into a roughly rectangular box. A flap opened so you could put stuff inside it, and you carried it by a wide thong slung over one shoulder.
The sun had only just begun to pink up the eastern sky when we set out. We both carried spears, although we didn’t bother bringing the atlatls Musk Ox lent us. We didn’t plan to go hunting—the spears were solely for protection. We’d also borrowed knives from both Summer Wind and Red Fox and had them tucked into thongs tied around our waists. If anything came at us, I was going to get as stabby-stabby as I could. I figured if you poked enough holes in something, it was bound to leave you alone.
We only stopped long enough to fill the water bag at the first stream we came across. Having traveled from the shore once already, I remembered how long it seemed between drinkable water sources and wasn’t taking any chances. Grant put the full water bag into his backpack, which was fine with me, because the damn thing was heavy.
We caught glimpses of a few animals on our way, but nothing that might’ve wanted to snack on us. At least, none that we thought would. Who knew for sure what giant sloths or huge armadillos might want to eat? In any case, neither of them came close enough to threaten us. We also saw a few horses grazing in the fields at the foot of the hills. They were shorter and shaggier than the ones I remembered from home, more like stout ponies with stubby legs and big heads. And once we saw an elk, a huge deer with antlers that had to be six feet across.
By late morning, the salty-fishy smell of the sea was in the air, and just before noon we spotted the glint of light dappling the water in the distance. It didn’t take long for us to reach the beach after that. Bear Paw had been right—it’d been a much-easier, shorter trip than the way we’d first come.
We made camp on a dune we felt was far enough from the water to avoid being swallowed during high tide and used a piece of driftwood to prop the large hide into a low tent, placing stones on the edges of the hide to keep the wind from blowing it away. We also gathered enough stones to make a fire ring and enough driftwood to build a fire, although we decided not to waste the wood and start a fire until it began to get dark and we needed one.
After we were settled, I dug into my backpack and pulled out the pouch of food. I shared a couple of the traveling cakes and strips of jerky with Grant. The cakes were surprisingly rich and had a sweet flavor. I think they had berries in them as well as some sort of minced meat. Eating the jerky was like chewing on shoe soles—it was just as tough and about as tasty. We each took a nice, long drink of water after, although Grant was quick to put the water bag away after we were done. I knew rationing the water was smart—we damn well couldn’t drink sea water if we ran out, and the last fresh water stream had been a few miles back—but it still annoyed me a little. I mean, it was my water as much as it was his, right? He could’ve at least asked my opinion.
Maybe I was just irritable after the long walk and drama from the night before, but I think maybe it was more that. Even after everything we’d been through, I didn’t think Grant trusted my judgment, and that hurt. It was as if he thought I’d fall apart without his guidance or without him making the decisions. I was just as capable as he was, wasn’t I? “You know, I’m just as skilled at surviving out here as you are.”
He looked over at me and cocked his head. “What?”
“You took the water bag because you’re afraid I’d drink it all like an idiot.”
“No, I didn’t. I took the water bag because we were done drinking.”
“Don’t lie. You think I can’t do anything right without you.”
“Where is this coming from, Ash? I didn’t say any such thing!”
“You didn’t have to.”
“Oh, come on. Why are you always so defensive? I know you can survive as well as I can—probably better. There, I said it. You’ve got way more street smarts than I do.”
“But otherwise I’m an idiot, right? I mean, you’re the one who was born choking on a goddamn silver spoon, right? Went to the best schools, had cutting-edge technology, all that? I’m the freaking street rat.”
“Yeah, okay, Aladdin. Look, that’s not what I meant, and you know it. I don’t know what I said to tick you off, but I’m sorry.”
It took me a minute to admit to myself I was actively ignoring his apology and trying to come up with new and improved reasons to stay mad at him. Why was I doing that? I didn’t really care about the water bag. I knew if I needed a drink he’d give it to me, and I didn’t want to be responsible for it anyway. Besides, I had control of the food—he should have control of the water. What the hell was wrong with me? Maybe I really was an idiot. “S’okay.”
“Are you, really? Okay, I mean.” He looked concerned, leaning in toward me. He put a hand on my leg, and I felt it burn right through the leather to my skin. “I’m starting to worry, Ash.”
I cleared my throat. “Nah. I’m okay. Really. I guess I’m just irritable.” I tried to shake off my bad mood, ignore the warm feelings his touch was stirring up in my belly, and summoned up a smile. “Seriously. I’m okay. Wanna go see if we can find some shells before it gets too dark?”
He nodded, and we both got up and tried futilely to brush the sand from our leather britches. It was no use—the sand clung to us like it was glued on. No matter how much we brushed, there seemed to be more left. I got the feeling before we left the beach to go back to the cave I’d have sand in places sand should never, ever be.
We walked down to the edge of the ocean where the waves rolled up and left foamy mustaches on the sand. It was too cold for us to consider getting wet, so we stayed just out of reach of the sluicing water.
“Hey, look! I found one!” Grant sounded like an excited little kid, and for a minute I remembered some of the few really happy times in my childhood had been when my dad and mom took us kids to the shore for vacation. I remembered the salty tas
te of the sea and roasted peanuts, pizza, and hot dogs, and the sound of the roller coaster on the pier rumbling on its tracks.
I blinked, and I was back on the desolate strip of pristine sand that would one day be Virginia Beach. Grant was holding out his find for me to see. It was a large white seashell, about as big as his hand. There wasn’t a chip in it, either. “Looks great! Think we can trade it?”
“I guess. We should keep looking. I don’t know how many Badger is going to want to make us two atlatls.”
We walked up the beach, our footprints the only marks not made by nature on the pristine stretch of sand. It was kind of eerie, knowing we were the only humans on the beach that in the future would be packed with suntan-oiled tourists.
I spotted something in the water, just far out enough for me to know my boots would get soaked if I tried to rush out to get it in between waves. It looked really promising, though, so I bent over, quickly untied the laces holding the leather pouches that served as footwear to my legs, and kicked them off. I rolled up my pant legs, not wanting them to get wet either, and then ran into the icy water, whooping and hollering at the bone-numbing cold. It was only midautumn, but that water was cold. My skin tingled, actually ached from it.
It didn’t take me long to pluck the object I’d seen out of the wet, dense sand and splash back to shore. “Oh my God, that was freaking cold!”
“What did you get?” Grant peered at what I held in my hands. “Oh, cool! It’s a conch shell.”
The large spiral shell was about nine inches long and white, although inside of the curve was pinkish-coral. It was the sort of shell people would hold up to their ears and claim they could hear the ocean. “This ought to be good for trading.”
“No doubt. They’re worth money even in our day, especially one that big and perfect.”
As I held the shell, something squirmy and slimy wriggled out of it. I shrieked and dropping it on the sand. “What the hell is that?”
