by Jack L Knapp
We manhandled the partially-packed sled into the lean-to and laced the skins back together across the front. Snow had fallen on the slanted roof, and some had accumulated near the top where the roof leaned against the cabin. Still, the roof’s steep slope discouraged heavy accumulation. I had built the lean-to’s roof sturdy as well; I didn’t expect it to fail.
We’d cut a number of small hickory trees during the late summer, selected to be about half the thickness of my wrist and stored in the lean-to for seasoning. From these, I made a sled that would have done a downtime kid proud. Smaller than the two-man version we’d been using, it could be towed by a single person but could still haul a lot of weight over snow.
After finishing the first sled, I turned the task of making more over to Lee and Laz.
“Five of us will go on the hunt. The other two will stay behind to protect the cabin and our supplies. We can’t afford to lose either, so the task for those staying behind is to keep the cabin and supplies secure.
“The small sleds will carry our gear on the way out and as much meat as possible on the way back. Whatever we take will come back with us; we just don’t have enough spare gear to abandon anything.
“Bedding will take up a lot of room. We’ll need most of the room on the two-man sled to haul meat, so our gear will be divided up and stacked on the small sleds atop the rest of the meat. Carry your weapons over your clothing; everything else gets packed on a sled.
“The big sled is for Laz, Lee, and me. We’re stronger, so it only makes sense for us to haul most of the load. Comments or questions?”
I got only nods. It was the obvious way to divide up the work.
The storm brought wind and more snow in the afternoon. I could still hear the wind blowing outside the cabin when we bedded down that night.
#
More snow was falling the next morning when I looked outside.
We used the snowshoes whenever we left the cabin that day, going outside only to answer nature’s call or to bring in wood and water. The lean-to got a daily inspection, not only by looking at snow on the roof but also by going through the cabin’s back door to make sure no small animal had found a way inside.
I occasionally thought how nice a flush toilet would be. Bath tub or shower, too, for that matter. Heated water! I found myself thinking of that barely-remembered bathroom every time I had to go outside. We did what needed doing as fast as possible and hustled back in before anything important got frostbite!
The small sleds were soon finished and we went back to making arrows. We could never have too many arrows, so when the weather socked in, we worked on weapons. I had become quite skilled at forming sharp edges and points, but I still ended up with a lot of broken arrowheads. I pushed the material’s limits to get the points as sharp as possible. Sometimes I pushed too far. I bagged up the broken shards; sooner or later, I’d find a use for them.
I flaked points, Lee and Laz made arrows. We’d collected shafts during the summer and stored them in the lean-to. Now, as I finished arrowheads, they attached them to the shafts. Some of the arrows would be for my use, some slightly lighter ones were for Lilia and Lee; the rest were intended for everyone else. Short, heavy shafts got points, but no feathers; those were bolts for the crossbow.
Laz had a better bow now, more suitable to his increasing strength. He’d already had archery skills, so needed only stronger muscles to draw the heavier bow. The four men had spears with blades salvaged from short swords. We carried those whenever we went outside the cabin, using straps lengthened to fit comfortably over the fur coats we wore outdoors.
#
The storm finally ended three days later.
The next morning dawned clear and cold. Millie and Cindy would stay at the cabin. They had shelter, food, water, firewood, and weapons, so I expected they’d have no problems while we were gone.
“We’re as ready as we’re going to get. Make sure you’ve got your heavy sleeping furs. You’ll need them…sleeping cold is uncomfortable!” I got chuckles from that; all of us knew the truth of that statement!
Lee finished breakfast first. “I’ll get the big sled out of the lean-to and we can finish packing. The small sleds too, so all we’ll need to do is pack last-minute gear and get going. I’m anxious! I haven’t been on a hunt to the grassland yet, but my arm has fully recovered. I want to use those snowshoes to see something besides cabin walls and a woodpile!”
#
We planned to collect dry firewood from standing trees every afternoon. Our primary source of food would come from what we killed. Still, hunting isn't killing; luck is involved. We had enough dried meat on the sled to last for a week.
With luck, the bison would still be there, but they might have migrated on if the snow there was as deep as it was here. There might be no game at all. Time would tell. But if not, we had jerky and our own version of trail mix, made from dried fruit and nuts. We wouldn't starve.
We had tried making pemmican by mixing dried fruits with animal fat, but none of us liked the taste. Perhaps it had to do with the kinds of animals we’d taken or the way we collected the fat. Or we might not yet have acquired the taste for pemmican. If we got bison, they were likely still fat; maybe it would taste better.
Lee got the initial job of breaking trail.
Walking on the packed snow wasn’t difficult. Laz and I slung our bows, picked up the lines on the big sled, and followed behind Lee; we would switch places as soon as someone tired. Meantime, we weren’t trying to set speed records. Heavy exertion causes sweating, and sweating is dangerous in cold weather. It can freeze when you stop working.
I’d hoped to make the open plains by evening of the first day, but that didn’t happen. The snowshoes helped, and the sleds pulled easily, but travel over snow was slower.
The sun hung low in the sky. It had now passed the highest point that it would reach during the day, but even at noon it was well to the south. This confirmed my impression that we were in the area that had been north Texas or Oklahoma in my other timeline.
I thought we were south of downtime Kansas and Nebraska, but it didn’t matter. That world was not the same as this one. The animals were different, there were no natives, even the geology might be different. There was nothing we could depend on to be the same here as it had been in that other time.
The sky remained clear but I decided to err on the side of caution.
“We’ll stop here for the night and move to the plains tomorrow. I intend to build a snow house, a kind of igloo like the Inuit used in our time, but I’ve never built one, so I’ll need time to get it right.
“We’ll use it tonight, close it up before we leave tomorrow morning. There’s no reason it shouldn’t be just the way we left it when we come back through. If we get more meat than we can haul in one trip, we’ll cache the extra in snow houses and seal the openings. It’s possible that we could end up with a whole string of caches, ready to be used if we ever get caught out in a storm. The meat will last until spring if we don’t get a warming trend.”
#
Using one of the short swords, I made the first snow cuts in two parallel lines that would form the entrance. Undercutting between the lines allowed me to remove blocks, forming a trench that extended beneath the snow to the frozen ground. I then laid the blocks in a circle, the beginning of the snow house’s wall. I laid a second course atop the first, using blocks cut from the snow inside the circle. I left a layer of snow atop the frozen ground.
Laz and Lee cut more blocks and stacked them ready for use. The trench I’d started would be the entrance. Below the level of the surrounding snow, it would extend inside the wall of the snow house. Adding blocks along the trench sides would cause the wall to rise; when it was finished, it would curve into an arch overhead.
A circular wall would enclose the hollowed-out area I’d made by removing snow blocks. It too would connect overhead, using a keystone block to make a final seal and stabilize the arch.
I left
a central ‘table' of snow beneath the snow arch, and a circular shelf around the walls. The shelf was where we’d spread our sleeping furs; heat rises, so we’d be more comfortable if we slept in the warmer area above the floor. Food and weapons would be kept inside, the sleds parked alongside the covered entrance tunnel.
I rapidly stacked the blocks as Laz and Lee cut, trimming and fitting as I went. The second, slightly smaller, course of blocks went directly above the first. Beginning with the third course, the blocks were offset toward the inside of the circle, resulting in an open-topped dome that was tall enough for me to stand upright inside it.
We smoothed it and patted snow into place wherever there were gaps. I learned about shaping the blocks as I went along; they don’t work as well if they’re perfectly square. The last few blocks, over the low entry trench, would keep wind from entering.
We then put a tapered, circular plug into the space at the top. I had two more things to do before the job was finished.
We passed supplies in and stored them wherever there was room, leaving the central table empty. The lamp went on the table and I used a piece of steel and a flint core to strike sparks into a bit of the tinder we all carried. The steel had come from the mine, a broken tool I thought, but adequate for our needs. The flint core was left from my chipping efforts. The tinder soon showed a thin trail of smoke, then flamed as I blew on it. This served to light the twisted grass that was the lamp’s wick.
I watched where the smoke collected against the roof to judge the best location for a vent. Using one of the short swords and working from the inside, I poked a hole through the roof.
The tiny blaze stabilized and the smoke rose through the hole. We would all produce carbon dioxide as we slept and the small flame would produce carbon monoxide. Those gases had to escape if we were not to suffocate.
As a last step, I built up a snow shield atop the dome to keep wind out of the vent.
“It’s not dark yet, but I think we should sleep. The moon will give us light enough to travel as soon as we wake up. We can be on the grasslands by morning.
“We butcher the carcasses as soon as we make a kill, but I don’t want to stop the hunt until we’ve got all the meat we need. The meat will keep if we just field-dress the carcasses.
“I’ll be happy if we can bag two or three bison. We should be able to drag that much meat, even if we have to make two trips. I don’t expect predators, certainly not the big cats. Even if I’m wrong, we’ll see them a long way off and they’ll be slowed by the snow. Same with the big bears, if they aren’t denned up; they’re heavy enough that the snow crust won’t support them. I think we’ll have the advantage now.
"Dire wolves are a concern. I don’t know if they howl like the gray wolves, but I don’t see any reason why they shouldn’t. If they’re here, they’re hunting the same animals we are.
“If the predators have left downed carcasses, we'll trim off the areas they’ve been feeding on and salvage the rest. It won't have spoiled in this cold, and there’s no reason to take chances if they’ll do the killing for us. Predators go for the organs first and leave the muscle tissue for later. If they eat the guts and heart and liver, so be it; I’ll be happy to scavenge the backstraps and hindquarters!”
I woke up soon after midnight, then woke the others.
It was surprisingly warm in the snow house. I had worn my leather undergarments and boot liners when I slipped under the thick fur cover. The deerskin had been warm enough, even after I’d pushed the covering fur aside during the night.
Dried meat, dried fruit, water from our gourds, this was breakfast. Lee finished first and crawled through the tunnel.
I watched; he was careful, listening for noise outside before exiting.
We dragged our bedrolls, weapons, and food behind as we crawled out. We separated long enough to take care of personal necessities, then packed our gear on the sleds. Lee went back in and brought out his bedding, adding it atop the rest.
I had brought the lamp out with me. Some of the melted fuel still coated the bottom.
We were on the trail ten minutes later.
Chapter 27
The day dawned clear and cold. A faint breeze blew from the northeast. We looked out over the broad snowfield where the grasslands had been.
Dark objects stood out against the whiteness. They were a mile away, possibly more; it was difficult to judge across that field of white.
That triggered a thought; my eyes had been gummy when I woke up this morning. Could the snow-glare have caused it?
“OK, folks. It’s time to make masks.”
“Masks, Matt?” This came from Lee. Lilia only nodded; she understood right away.
“I should have thought of this before; the snow is too bright. It’s a near-perfect reflector and it can hurt your eyes, give you snow blindness. A bad case of it can make your eyes swell closed and you won’t be able to see anything until it goes away. Even if it’s just temporary, you still don’t want it to happen and certainly not now.”
There were a couple of doubtful looks, Laz in particular. I wondered what else he’d done besides work in a mine.
“We’ll use leather. Take a strip long enough to tie around your head, then cut two slits for your eyes. Measure, fold the leather where you want to cut it, then make two slices. Check the location again and if you’re happy where the slits are, cut away the leather between the slices. You want the openings to be less than half an inch wide. Tie the mask on and make sure you can see, then adjust the cuts if you need to.
“Give yourself time to get used to wearing the mask. Don’t tie it too tight, just tight enough to keep it in place.”
We rummaged through the stuff on the sleds and managed to find enough leather. It had originally been padding for a strap, but it worked fine for the masks. Half an hour later we were ready, looking like so many bandits from a downtime movie, but I could feel the difference. That was more important than how we looked.
“I can’t tell yet what those animals are. They’re up to their bellies in the snow, and anyway they’re a long way off. We’ll head that way and watch out for surprises.
“If you look at the surface ahead of us, you can tell there’s a slight dip in the ground. Be careful when we get near that point. We don’t want to surprise something that might mistake us for dinner. If there’s nothing dangerous in that hollow, we’ll use it to conceal ourselves while we work into bow range of those animals. They can see us as easy as we can see them.”
“You lead off, Matt,” said Laz. “You’ve got a better eye for terrain and Lee and Lilia can go ahead with you. I'll pull the big sled by myself, Sandra can pull the two small sleds if she ties one behind the other. We don’t have very far to go anyway.”
“We can try it, Laz. If it doesn’t work, we’ll think of something else. I’ve got another idea; turn your coat inside out, everyone. Wear them with the fur outside.
“They’ll still be warm and we’ll look like animals. We won’t be as likely to alarm whatever those things are unless we try to get too close, and that wouldn’t be very safe anyway. There’s no hurry; the idea is to get into range without spooking the herd. They’ll run soon enough when we begin shooting arrows.”
We slowly snow-shoed our way onto the snowfield, five bent hairy figures with sleds following behind. I kept an eye on those far-off shapes but most of my attention was on the dip ahead of us.
I hoped the animals were bison. They’re quick to detect movement, but if you can move at the speed a grazing animal would use they won’t realize you’re a predator until it’s too late.
We approached a small ridgeline ahead. The declivity I’d seen was just beyond the ridge. I paused for a moment; there were tracks of animals in the snow, but they were like nothing I’d seen before.
Snow collects in the hollows, blows away from higher ground; whatever had left the tracks had pawed through the thin snow on the ridgeline. Even a slight reduction in snow depth attracts hungry grazers, an
d that’s what had happened here.
We’d probably find deeper snow between this ridge and the next, but it wouldn’t bother us. The snowshoes would keep us from sinking in.
The foraging animals had left their dung on the ridge. The piled droppings were smaller than expected but still resembled that of bison. We might get lucky, not have to go all the way to where those other critters grazed. I held my hand out as a signal for the others to wait. If there were feeding animals on the other side of the ridge, one man would be less visible than five.
It’s really not possible to be stealthy on snowshoes, but I tried. Slowly, put a foot ahead, bring up the other foot, ease it straight down, repeat. The snowshoes squeaked against the snow as I stole up to the crest.
The snowfield dropped away in front of me. The valley was not very deep and there were scrubby plants on the sides of the ridges. Animals had been browsing on them, or maybe they’d used them as shelter for bedding down.
There was a snort of alarm and suddenly a dozen animals bolted across the valley, charging up the low ridge across from me. It took a moment for me to shuffle the snowshoes around; you can’t draw a heavy bow if you don’t have good footing.
I still had time to put an arrow into the one on the right as the animals raced away. I hadn’t yet identified them, but they appeared to be larger than deer. To my left, Lee and Lilia had charged up the ridge and launched arrows of their own.
The arrow had gone into the back of the one I’d shot. I missed the spine but the arrow had penetrated the ribcage. It was still lodged in the body somewhere.
The animal was camel-like in appearance, but with a head perched on an upright neck. It stumbled when my arrow hit but soon regained its footing. I put my second arrow into the body, this one a perfect shot that sank to the fletching just behind the shoulder.
That was enough; the llama collapsed.
Lilia and Lee had also bagged one; it had run no more than fifty yards before falling. Fresh blood blotched the snow.
