A Mountain of Fire

by Marius Thue

  Thoke begins to walk back to his hut. He must be careful so no one discovers the bear cub. Luckily, Tseena has been keeping watch. Skarn runs close behind his brother.

  “Thanks for letting me come along!” Skarn's smile nearly stretches from ear to ear.

  “Of course you get to come along. It's only a few years until you must take the test yourself, so this will give you an advantage if you pay close attention.” Thoke smiles back at Skarn and stops right outside the flap to his hut. “Come on now, get your gear ready. You heard Father.” Thoke pulls the fur flap aside and steps inside while Skarn speeds over to his little snow cave.

  Skarn still has no pelts, but cannot stay in his parents hut anymore. Sometimes Thoke lets him sleep in his hut, but Thorkar doesn't like it. “Skarn needs to learn a thing or two about making his own shelter,” he would say.

  Skarn worked an entire day to get his cave ready, and now he's quite satisfied with it. It's small but warm. A thin icy layer now covers the roof inside. He always feels safe in there.

  Thorkar sits on a log by the fire, brooding. His woman, Sira, sits next to him. Her unusual appearance sparked his interest when they first met many years ago. His size and fierceness caught hers.

  “Now, what happened this time?” she wonders.

  Thorkar releases a heavy sigh while tugging on his beard.

  “They managed to enrage a mother bear. If we hadn't gone out to look for them. Well, they probably wouldn't be here now.”

  “But they survived, like they always do.” Sira doesn't share her man’s worries.

  “They're too old for this kind of thing. I'm afraid I have to split them up. There is too much of a fuss when those two are together.” Thorkar stands up and the log lifts slightly.

  “You cannot split them up. I don't think they have spent a day apart since Thoke learned how to walk.” Sira now becomes worried.

  Thorkar snorts and leaves. He walks to the outside of Thoke's hut and clears his throat as loudly as possible. Thoke tumbles out while trying to hide the guilty expression on his face.

  “What's wrong with you? You seem ill.” Thorkar says.

  “Eh … I'm just nervous about tomorrow, that’s all,” Thoke answers, pleased with his quick response.

  “I see.” Thorkar doesn’t seem to suspect anything. “Did you take care of the bear cub?”

  “Yes! Yes, I took care of it,” Thoke's eyes dart around before they find the snowy ground.

  “Good.” Thorkar lays a hand on Thoke's shoulder. “It is this kind of heavy decision that makes a strong chief. The cub would have died of starvation or worse. What you did was out of mercy. Remember that. Now get ready.” Thorkar taps him lightly on the shoulder before turning away. Thoke releases a sigh of relief, but he instantly clams up as Thorkar once again turns to him.

  “I understand your sister will be sleeping in your hut tonight. Make sure she doesn't keep you up with her stories. See you at sunrise.” Thorkar finally walks away so Thoke can slip back into his hut.

  Thoke and Tseena lie with the cub in between them. It must still be exhausted as it has not made a single sound. Through a crack in the wall, Thoke sees the stars glittering high above. He can feel the excitement deep in his gut now. Sleep will not come easy tonight.

  CHAPTER 2

  It's the crack of dawn. The sun slowly tries to climb above the valley, and the men are ready to move out. It's a cold and clear morning. The snow lies in patches across the tundra. Thoke gets up long before everyone else and stands ready, his brother not far behind. Skarn tries to make his outfit look like his older brother’s as much as possible. He sticks his spear in the snow and starts tweaking his caribou furs.

  The pointed flint at the tip of his spear falls off. The burn of shame spreads across his face. Thoke quickly makes his way over and covers it with his body. He doesn't want anyone to see this. He picks up the flint and shows his little brother how to attach it correctly.

  By the time the others arrive, Thoke has made the sharp stone sit tight on top of the stick. The two only exchange looks, no words. None of the others have said anything either. They are all busy getting a last check on their furs and weapons.

  Thick pelts of caribou have been sewn together using strips of spun bark, roots, guts from animals, and pretty much anything that will hold. Almost every hole has been closed. Only their heads and fingers bear the cold. Whenever their fingers freeze, they can always be drawn into their sleeves.

  “There's one thing I have always wondered,” Skarn leans in to whisper. “Would it not be wiser to wear the hairs in toward our skin? Seems warmer that way.” Skarn runs his fingers through his caribou furs, feeling the soft hairs.

  “Ask yourself this question: How does the animals wear their hair?” Thoke makes sure only Skarn can hear him.

  “On the outside.”

  “Exactly. So we do the same.” Thoke smiles and roughs up Skarn's long blond hair. Skarn smiles back, clearly happy about having his brother’s attention.

  Dorkas steps over to Thoke and sticks his spear down next to his. It stands just a bit taller. Dorkas measures the spears with a smug smile on his face. His eyes then look toward Thoke and wiggles his eyebrows. Thoke grabs a small pouch attached to his hip. He unties it and casually peeks inside.

  “Twenty-three,” he says, nodding smugly.

  Dorkas opens a similar pouch of his own but quickly ties it back onto his hip when he realizes there are less arrowheads in there. The competition between them is never ending. They compete over everything and nothing. Dorkas completed his first hunt a few years back and did so with impressive results. Thoke will do all he can to outdo him.

  The hunting party is ready to get going. With a cloudless sky and the sun starting to grab hold of the day, it seems to be a good one. Thoke has been hunting for a while, but leading a hunt by himself like this is something different.

  The morale among the men is high. A little friendly teasing and messing around is normal to lighten the pressure before the hunt begins.

  Dorkas does as he always does, bragging to the women about his outstanding hunting skills.

  “I'm bringing these guys with me on the hunt. They'll probably slow me down, but they have to learn somehow I guess.” He flips his spear around in his hands, showing some of his moves.

  Helok walks by, smiling like he knows something no one else does. “Maybe you should go alone? I could use the rest,” he says, holding his hands out, waiting for a response.

  Dorkas leans on his spear while trying his best to seem uninterested, as if he did not hear. Thoke kicks away his spear as he walks by, and Dorkas falls face-first into the snow.

  “HA! With such reflexes and awareness, a cold will be the only thing you'll catch!” Thoke laughs with his head up to the sky, accompanied by the laughter of the others.

  “Sew your mouth shut, Thoke!” Thorkar is not impressed by his sons antics. “One day it will get you into some serious trouble. Focus on your task now.”

  The girls of the village sit, giggling. Dorkas gets back on his feet and tries unconvincingly to laugh along with them.

  They all say goodbye to their families. Thoke's mother is always nervous when her loved ones go out for long hunts.

  “Make sure to come home safe and with a deer or two across your shoulders,” she says with a worried frown. Her bright blond hair always appears to have been neatly brushed. “The gods have given neither good nor bad signs.”

  Sira, like many others in the tribe, look for signs from the gods in their environment. Sometimes they will perform rituals to appease them. This time, however, all the responsibility rests on Thoke's shoulders as no such ritual has been made.

  Dorkas always seems uncomfortable with saying goodbye and is never the one to initiate. Sira walks over to him and gives him a hug. Dorkas regards Sira and Thorkar as his parents, and they love him as their own. Dorkas, however, is painfully aware that it is not a reality.

  “Look after yourself now, my boy,” Si
ra looks at him with those icy-blue eyes. They may appear cold, but they feel warm like the sun.

  “Every time,” he answers with a shy grin before turning his dark brown eyes down at the snow.

  Thoke steps over to his sister. She remains outside the hut, keeping guard.

  “Here, Tseena. Keep watch over this as well while I'm gone,” Thoke says while giving her a bone necklace. Tseena made the necklace for him last summer. She made it from three strips of hide tied together with eight small bones attached. The bones are made from the ribs of a caribou, Thoke's first ever kill he claimed as his very own. By now the bones are cracked and smaller than they originally were. Still, Thoke wears it with pride.

  “Maybe you can make me a new one when we get back? And remember to keep the hut within sight at all times.” Thoke gives her a hug. He knows she will do as he says, so it's without much worry that he hands over the responsibility to her.

  The hunters leave the camp behind them with Thoke out in front. A mixture of gray and brown fur pelts blends in with the tundra. Snow has fallen lightly overnight, so any tracks should be pretty fresh. The low humidity makes it easy to see far across the many valleys. A barely noticeable breeze is in the air, so animals will not catch their scent easily.

  The very first thing Thoke does is find a high point in which to scout potentially promising areas for prey. He often looks over at his father but always pulls back his gaze quickly so he remains unnoticed. As soon as their eyes meet, Thoke looks away. Getting a positive reaction from his father is very important to him.

  Thoke eyes a narrow pass in a nearby valley. Cliffs shoot up from each side. Any animals traveling through here must move between these cliffs. Down there they immediately find deer tracks. Thoke swells with joy, but he must remain calm. These tracks are fresh, and the animal might still be nearby.

  After following the tracks for a while, they find fresh droppings. Thoke bends down to inspect it and smiles proudly at his father.

  “Well done, boy,” Thorkar says. “This is a good start.” He pats the boy on his shoulder. Thoke feels as light as air. This is surpassing all his expectations. Dorkas does not share the enthusiasm, however.

  “What took you so long? If it were up to me, we would already have brought the animal down.” Dorkas seems sour for some reason.

  “Well, Father said it took you three days to get your first kill,” Skarn remarks. He often comes to the defense of his older brother.

  Dorkas looks away and pretends like nothing was said. Deep down he wants to see Thoke succeed but not while doing it any better than he had.

  The envy is not difficult to see. Dorkas's dream has always been to lead the tribe. He has been ambitious and confident since day one. He feels it’s unfair that Thoke will succeed Thorkar just because he's his firstborn son by blood. Dorkas would rather see skills and age be the deciding factor in becoming chief. He knows in some tribes that they often fight for the right as leader when the old chief dies. Dorkas vows to gather his own tribe one day-a tribe so strong that no one would ever dare attack them, and instead strikes fear in the heart of all men. From the oceans to the mountains, they will be spoken of only in whispers.

  Since Dorkas's parents died, everyone in the tribe has helped raise him as is the custom. Thorkar and Sira have looked after him especially. He mended a very painful wound, filling the void after Thorkar and Sira lost their first child during birth. But when Thoke was born, things changed. Dorkas was never put first anymore and often spent time alone when Sira and Thorkar were busy with Thoke.

  The lack of attention tore at him in those years, and in truth sometimes it still does. Dorkas would always show off his skills in front of Thorkar, but the great leader more than often chose to praise his real son instead.

  Dorkas and Thoke in many ways felt like brothers since the beginning. This has given Dorkas a quite a hostile attitude toward Thoke's brother by blood, Skarn. The battle for Thoke's attention has mostly been won by Dorkas, which makes the hostile attitude mutual. It seems, though, that Thoke has not noticed this hostility.

  “All right. Let's move on,” Thoke commands, full of confidence, and the hunt continues.

  Not long after, they discover a small doe in front of them. Normally everything would happen by itself at this point. Everyone would know what to do and where to be. But this is Thoke's hunt, and it's up to him to make the command. He hesitates a bit too long. The deer spots them and runs away.

  “Damn, Thoke! What are you doing? There goes our meal.” Dorkas waves his hands around angrily. Thoke looks down to the snow in embarrassment. He takes a deep breath and shakes it off before he silently moves on.

  After the fiasco, Thoke is about to lose control of his group. Dorkas has long gone from sight, and Grym has also vanished suddenly. “They probably went to look for tracks,” Thoke tells himself. He has to find them because this is starting to look grim. That seems to be easier said than done, however, as the ones he did have under control have gone to look for the others. Thoke spots his uncle Helok standing up on a ridge. He is wearing all gray pelts, some from wolf and some from caribou. He has drawn his bowstring and is aiming down the other side. Maybe he found the doe from earlier?

  Eagerly, Thoke runs up to his uncle, who startles as he approaches. Before Thoke gets there, Helok loosens his bow and walks down the hill, passing him, without a single word leaving his lips.

  “What did you find?” Thoke asks. No reply. Thoke looks down toward where Helok was aiming, but he cannot see any animals. He can, however, see his father sitting on a large boulder. At least he found him.

  Thoke yells as loudly as he can, making sure everyone must hear him. They all do and quickly rejoin their young leader. The sun has passed its midway point by the time they get going again.

  A short time later, they walk over a wide treeless hill. From here they can see across an equally treeless plain. The sun blinds Thoke. He holds a hand up in front of his eyes as he spots movement in the left corner of his eye. It appears to be the doe from earlier. This time he will not make the same mistake. Quickly, he organizes the hunters. Thoke knows exactly how to run this attack.

  He sends Grym and Thorkar around to get behind the deer. Grym is surprisingly light on his feet for such a large man. He has already thrown his fresh bear fur across his shoulders and back. The pair move in a wide circle around the animal, constantly staying as low to the ground as possible without standing on all fours.

  Helok is placed high up on the hill with his bow. Thoke stays with his uncle while Skarn and Dorkas walk further down the hill, on opposite sides of their prey. Without knowing, the deer is completely surrounded.

  Thoke packs some snow into a ball. The snow is loose and dry, so he spits in his hands to make it solid. As soon as he sees that everyone is ready, he throws the ball of snow as far above the deer as he can.

  The deer sees the snowball and freezes, trying to figure out what it is. This is the sign the big men have been waiting for. They jump out from behind some small bushes and run toward the deer from each corner, screaming all the way. With a pounce, the deer shoots off toward the hill at full speed. It looks almost effortless, the way it scurries across the plain. Suddenly the deer pulls off to the left, where Dorkas is lying in wait behind a boulder. He cuts off the deer’s path, so it turns over to the right. Lying on the ground, Skarn jumps up so the deer, again, has to run toward the hill.

  Timing it perfectly, Helok stands and launches an arrow into the animal’s right leg. The hit causes it to fall forward in a roll. Now Thoke pounces out from his hiding place and plants his stone dagger in the animal’s throat. Death finds the deer instantly.

  Thorkar walks over, clearly a proud father at this moment.

  “Well, this was a really good start. This doe is small, however, so we must continue,” he says in his deep voice. The others nods and smiles.

  Dorkas swallows his pride, which is no small feat. He walks over and punches Thoke lightly on the shoulder.

>   “Well done, my friend. You couldn't have done it without me,” he says with a crooked smile on his face. Thoke smiles back. Grym throws the deer over his shoulder and begins walking with the tribe.

  The sun has far passed its midway point at this time, and the hunters’ spirits are rising with every step. Old, tall stories get exchanged while they search for new tracks. Grym leads the storytelling with his usual favorite. It seems he never grows tired of this one.

  “One day, I was out hunting alone. The darkness fell on me faster than I expected, so I made a fire and charred my catch of the day. It all seemed normal, but then out of the darkness, I spot two glowing eyes. The wolf was at me so fast I was barely able to react. I tossed it off me and roared at it.” Grym does his best bear impression. With his bear furs he kind of looks like a bear, Thoke thinks. Someone has made him a necklace from the bear claws as well. They clink together as he waves around, roaring. “‘Come and get me you coward,’ I yelled. It was at least my own height on all fours, at least.”

  “Hold on now, last time it had fangs larger than a man’s fingers, and now it's twice the size of a regular wolf?” Helok cuts in.

  “It had that as well, yes. Thank you, Helok,” Grym continues. “It was a beast as big as anything you have ever seen before. No man has laid eyes on a larger wolf, I’m sure. It had nothing on me though. We fought for one day and one night, blood and wounds covering our bodies. At last I got a solid grip of its throat and hind legs. Now I was tired of this fight, so I pulled to each side with all my might until it tore in half right at the middle. I was covered in blood and guts for days. That is why they call me Wolf-slayer.”

  The men all smile, laughter pouring out at any moment. Grym's story becomes more and more exaggerated each year. In the beginning it was a regular wolf, killed with the thrust of his spear. Over the years the wolf has gained a number of different characteristics, and the manner of which it got killed has been through quite a few changes.