Half-Breed

by Anna L. Walls

  The woman gasped with indignation. “How dare you order my companion?”

  “It is best and she knows it,” said Canis as he knelt and pulled the furs away. The swelling made it very hard to pull the bone straight, and her screams echoed through the night air. By the time they were finished, the woman was near fainting and tears streamed down her face.

  Sickness and injury was a constant threat, but members of the clan were solidly healthy creatures so Canis’s ‘skills’ had only been called on once since the events of his arrival. At that time, he discovered that he would go…then he would wake afterward with no memory of what he had done. This time was no different. He remembered speaking to the woman’s companion and he remembered pulling the furs away from her legs, but there was nothing after that until he was tucking the blankets around her again.

  He handed her another cup of tea. Her stomach needed to settle down some before she tried to eat.

  She accepted the tea silently while wiping the tears from her face with shaking fingers.

  When her hands stopped shaking some, he asked, “Do you need to relieve yourself?

  She looked up at him as if she was having trouble comprehending the question, then she laughed a shaky laugh. “What will you do about it?”

  “Nothing if you do not want me to. Eridanus is married. If you wish, he can help you to the edge of camp and help…with your leg.”

  She looked at the other two men as if assessing their size and age, or perhaps weighing their worthiness then she just shrugged and looked away, folding her arms across her chest. “Not now.”

  Canis silently dished her up a bowl of the meat-laced gruel, and then dished one up for himself. They ate in silence. When the gruel was cool enough, they dished out a portion for each of the Wulfen too. The pot was polished out by several of the different Wulfen; each of them hoping to find a crumb or flavor missed by another. Using the last of the tea to wash out the pot, Canis and the others began to prepare for the night. Peace wasn’t to be had just yet, as the woman couldn’t hold her bladder any longer.

  The morning was a mild confusion of packing up, eating a chunk of dried meat and filling their water skins with snow to melt during the day. Eridanus again helped the woman to the edge of camp before they packed her warmly in the sled, then they headed back toward the stockade.

  They traveled much slower this time. The woman’s life was not in danger and meat was necessary, so the Wulfen fanned out in search of game. A young bull moose was flushed early in the afternoon, but the shot was spoiled when the woman chose to fling aside the pelt that covered her, picking a crucial moment to do so.

  After watching her fidget for several minutes, Leo said, “If you’re finished, we’ll continue the hunt.”

  She just glared at him.

  Thanks to the larger than usual number of Wulfen, they still had control of the beast, and they were slowly bringing it back around, so the hunters set up for another shot. The direction they were coming from had a small rise just beyond where their sleds waited, so Canis had the others boost him up into a tree. Just as the moose was starting up the other side of the rise, the woman reached for the pelt. She was fidgeting again.

  Canis launched one arrow at her, pinning the pelt to the snow, effectively freezing the woman. A second later, he shot again successfully driving a long arrow deep in front of the moose’s shoulder.

  Two steps later, the moose was in range of the others and it fell soon after.

  They spent the rest of the afternoon skinning and quartering it. The load would be heavy for two sleds, but not impossible.

  That night their gruel was liberally laced with liver and healthy sections of the toughest meat was portioned out to the Wulfen who chewed on it with relish. The woman huffed and glowered through it all, but she was refusing to speak to Canis.

  When Canis handed her, her bowl of gruel, she said, “I don’t like liver.”

  Canis merely shrugged, sat down with her bowl, and picked up the spoon. Before he could get the first mouthful to his mouth, she snapped, “What am I going to eat?”

  Canis handed her the bowl again; this time she took it. She tried to pick through it at first, but the liver was already cut into small pieces and most of that had essentially dissolved with the cooking. When she set it aside again, less than half finished, Canis said, “We will not be heating that up in the morning, but I guess you can eat it cold.”

  That set her off. “Who do you think you are? You’re just a kid. How old are you anyway. And what possessed you to shoot at me?”

  Canis looked at her with a steady, unblinking gaze few could hold; she was no different. When she glanced away, he answered. “I am a hunter. I have hunted in a direction I had not intended, simply because I was asked to come find you. I am old enough to hunt, old enough to set your leg, and I did not shoot at you, I shot at the pelt to keep you from flopping it around again and spoiling the hunt entirely. Because of you, we will have to take turns pulling the meat sleds since they are overloaded. You will eat what you are given. It will make you strong and heal your bones quicker. When we reach the stockade, you will be my guest until other accommodations can be arranged.”

  “Your guest, what makes you think I would want to be your guest?”

  Canis shrugged. “I guess you could go home,” he said and finished his meal.

  The woman ate a couple more bites in silence, made a face, and then set her bowl down on the other side of the sled. If she thought any of the Wulfen would clean the bowl for her, she was sadly mistaken. The great gray Wulfi made sure none of the others went near her bowl.

  In the morning, she munched on the frozen gruel. Having not eaten much the night before, she was very hungry, and though the men all pulled dried meat from their provisions, none was offered to her.

  They traveled slowly that day; the route was mostly uphill and the sleds were heavy. Their travel was punctuated by a wide assortment of complaints, most of which dealt with the fact that her head was lower than her feet, giving her a headache, or so she said. During a rest brake, they turned her around in the sled. Then her complaints were that there was too much pressure on her leg.

  When they turned her around yet again at the next level opportunity, she didn’t complain quite so much about the angle, but she did manage to complain about something all the way until they made camp. By then they were all silently thankful that they would reach the stockade the next day.

  At the stockade, Eridanus and Leo silently carried the woman into Canis’s house and laid her on the bear hide near the hearth, then they left to take care of the meat. It would have to be thawed out before Canis’s portion could be brought to him.

  Family Problems

  After hanging up his snowshoes and coat, and leaning his bow in the corner, Canis kicked off his boots and looked around, not seeing his father. Nike was there at the fire fixing a warm soup for lunch. She poured him a cup of tea and handed it to him. Her eyes were all red from crying and her face was pale.

  “What is it?”

  “Oh how wonderful, a house run by children. Why did you bring me here?” said the woman, but no one seemed to hear her.

  “Your father…” was all Nike got out. Canis shoved the cup back into her hands and ran up the stairs.

  He wasn’t prepared for what he saw when he pushed aside the curtains to his father’s room. “Father?” he said bewildered.

  When there was no response, he moved closer to his father’s nest. Orion lay there peacefully, but it was obvious he was no longer there. Canis sat down. His mind seemed to stop. He heard a strange sound and realized it was his own voice as he moaned. An agony had opened up in his chest and he didn’t know how to fill it.

  Soon after, several women of the clan moved in and took over. Canis was guided back downstairs and was carefully watched and entertained. Orion too was brought down where he was bathed and dressed in his finest clothes. A never-ending parade of people and Wulfen traveled through the house to pay their r
espects.

  Through it all, Canis was in a fog. Occasionally he heard the sharp voice of the new woman as she spoke to different members of the clan, but he didn’t register what she was saying. He couldn’t think. The man who claimed to be his father was dead, and he had hardly taken the time to get to know him, to hear his story, to ask about his mother. Now he was gone and the story was lost.

  Someone handed him a cup and pressed him to drink it. He did vaguely, noticing that it was bitter, then he knew no more.

  Gentle hands woke him and he was aware that it was dark, but he couldn’t have said whether it was that night or another. The hands that woke him guided him to follow the procession out of camp. A torch was placed in his hand. Dimly, he was aware of coming upon a hole in the snow and the pile of branches that had been revealed. He watched as men placed the body of Orion out in the center; with him was the carefully folded pelt of his long dead companion.

  Canis knelt on the mound of snow around the edge of the pyre. “I am sorry, father,” he said softly.

  Belatedly he let the torch fall onto the branches. The rest of the clan’s torches followed and as the dry branches caught and the fire heated up, someone else’s hands pulled him away from the heat before the snow melted out from under him. He stood swaying, watching the sparks fly up into the sky, watching the smoke writhe against the stars. “May the Mother hold you gently in Her arms,” he whispered. “May your ancestors welcome you to their hearth,” he said only a little louder.

  It was Nike who led him back home. Inside, she helped him out of his coat and she was hanging it up when his guest spoke.

  “Now what’s to become of me, there isn’t even a man in the house any more,” she said petulantly.

  Canis no longer functioned in a fog, but his pain was still very tender. He rounded on his uninvited guest and spoke with a snarl in every syllable. Several days of misery traveling with her, topped by the shock of his father’s death, had removed all restraints. “I will warn you once; I was not raised among the clan. I grew up on the other side of the mountains where women are not nearly so rare or treasured, where even women were known to be beaten. You have done nothing but behave badly since the first time you opened your mouth. Mend your ways or you will find yourself out in the snow alone again.”

  Both the woman and Nike were stunned by the vehement words. Nike had never heard Canis lose his temper before.

  Canis stalked up the stairs. He was furious, furious at himself for loosing his temper with the woman, furious at spoiled opportunities, furious at the world for making him what he was and handing him the life he had been dealt. He shed his shirt and picked up his sword before heading up onto the roof. Using the stars as targets and the dark shadows of the surrounding towering trees as enemies, he fought, letting the ferocity in his heart burn itself out against the shadows.

  The next day, in an effort to make up for his uncharacteristic loss of control, Canis took it upon himself to help Nike make a place for their guest.

  Frustrated with their guest’s imperial nature and rude stubbornness, Nike finally asked. “What is your name anyway? Or is it a secret?”

  “It’s Halley of course,” she said, as if everyone should know her name just by being in her presence.

  Nike overlooked the manner, and at first, it appeared Canis did too. He merely strode to the wood slot out back and brought in a pair of already shaped pieces of wood and started to soak them in preparation for bending.

  Halley was obnoxious, but not stupid; she recognized those pieces of wood. “What are you making snowshoes for?”

  Canis looked her directly in the eyes. “I am making them for you. Yours were broken when you fell. I have a feeling that as soon as your leg is healed, you will need new ones. I am sorry that I cannot direct you to the next clan holding.”

  The woman was speechless. When she did find her voice, she said with disbelieving incredulity, “You can’t kick me out.”

  Canis smiled, but it was a smile that narrowed his eyes dangerously. “Yes I can,” he said with a soft growl under his words. Then with a sigh, he sat down on the bearskin near her.

  Involuntarily, she shrank away from him. She had to force herself to remember that he was not a full-grown man, not yet, but she remembered him saying something about beating women.

  Canis sat looking at his hands for several minutes before he spoke. “I was not taught how to mix with people and have always chosen to watch the people around me very carefully and reserve reaction for those who came close. I have learned, with this watching, that a soft voice and a carefully considered word will win much more respect than an angry voice that can only criticize and hurt. While you stay here, I will not wish you on any other member of this clan. I will make every effort to show you how you appear to others. You were rude not to introduce yourself when I told you my name. You should remember that you are not in control of your surroundings. This house was my mother’s house and since I am the last remaining member of my family, it has become mine. When I leave here, I will give it to Nike for all the help she has seen fit to give me. You are at my mercy here, and like I told you before, I was not brought up in the clan.” Canis sat there for a few minutes longer, but when Halley didn’t seem inclined to any response, he rose and donned his coat. Picking up his snowshoes and ax, he headed outside.

  Nike was very logical in the things she did for Halley. The woman had a broken leg. She couldn’t do much of anything for herself if it was out of reach or if it required that she stand or walk, so she brought Halley her food or drink and cleared away her dishes when they were empty. She also lent a patient ear when the woman chose to talk, which was quite a lot.

  After Canis’s little speech, the woman was quiet, far quieter than she had ever been since her arrival. Nike stared at the closed door for a long time. She had never heard him say so much all at once since she met him almost a year ago.

  The strange silence stretched for nearly an hour, both women completely immersed in their separate thoughts, before being interrupted by his return, and then his actions held their curiosity, as they watched him like a pair of owls.

  He brought with him several different sticks that he proceeded to peel and smooth. When he had most of them rudely peeled, he stood up before Halley. “Stand up,” he said as he held his hand out to pull her to her feet.

  Tentatively she took his help and he pulled her to stand, one legged, beside him. He handed her the stick he had peeled. It was every bit as tall as Halley was.

  She took it with a puzzled expression on her face. “What’s this for?”

  “It is to help you get around; try it.”

  Hesitantly, she tried it. Gripping it with both hands, she took a few hops across the floor. The stick helped, but it was obviously awkward, and she threatened to kick the stick out from under her with every step.

  Canis frowned and shook his head. “That will not work.” He handed her another stick. This one was about waist high with a large knob on one end. “Try it.” It was better, but wobbly. He looked at her. “Will that do or do you have a better idea?”

  “Are you asking me?” she said.

  “Yes,” said Canis simply.

  “There was a man in our clan who broke his knee very badly. He never walked right on it again. He made himself a stick that rested under the shoulder. It seemed to work well for him.”

  Canis took the longer stick, measured it to her shoulder, then he went to the wood slot to cut it with his hatchet. When he was finished with it, he put it under his own arm and hopped around with it. The woman was about the same height as he was and it seemed to work well enough. The end of the stick would bruise the underarm in the first few steps so he sat down to make further modifications.

  Using something his father had shown him, he pegged the two pieces together solidly, then he found a scrap of hide that still had the hair on it and stitched it over the cross piece. Finished, he went back into the house and handed it to Halley.

  She ho
pped across the floor once again. “This seems to work just fine,” she said with gratitude, “Thanks.”

  Canis smiled. “You are welcome.” He then went over to the furs that were in the process of tanning while Halley went back to her position on the bear hide.

  “If you’ll give me a small one, I can work it here,” said Halley.

  Canis brought her a rabbit hide. “Thank you.”

  She nodded. She really didn’t know how to act this way, but she did like his smile much more than the glare that chilled his icy eyes. Blue, gray, and brown eyes were common, but she had never seen eyes that compared so closely to the snow that surrounded them.

  A few days later, Canis went out on another hunt. They still had their year’s stores to fill and it was almost wood hauling season. With him went the great gray Wulfi that had come with Halley. Watching he and Rrusharr trotting side by side, Canis had to ask, “You like him, don’t you?”

  “He is very strong,” replied Rrusharr.

  “Does he have a name?” asked Canis.

  “Ggrrawrr,” replied Rrusharr.

  “You are different, boy-man,” said Ggrrawrr.

  “When is your family due?” asked Canis.

  “Soon,” replied Ggrrawrr.

  “You’re talking to both of them aren’t you,” said Leo.

  Canis smiled. “Yes I am. You should try it sometime. They are all members of the clan.”

  “But they won’t answer.”

  “Perhaps you have not said anything worth responding too,” said Canis.

  When they returned from the hunt, Canis was greeted by a tearful household. “What is wrong now? If some tragedy happens every time I go hunting, I may stop.”

  “It’s Larrarr, she has labored for nearly two days now and nothing,” said Nike.

  Canis looked at Halley and saw the pain and horror in her eyes and pale face.