by Marius Thue
The hunting party is fresh and ready at sunrise. Last night’s storm has died out, but a layer of clouds still sits thick in the sky.
Rhekir is not happy about not being chosen to go hunting. He's over fifteen summers old now and has a couple of hunts behind him. This is no ordinary hunt, however, but still Rhekir pouts.
“I should come with you,” he says to his father. “I'm much better than almost everyone here.”
“You'll stay here and watch out for your sister. That's your most important task. Next time, it will be your turn to take the test,” Thoke says and hands him a brand new spear. “This is freshly sharpened. Be careful and remember to put all your bodyweight behind your thrust if it comes to it.”
Rhekir lights up for a moment, as he should. It's a great honor to receive a weapon from ones father and chief.
“I'll protect the tribe, Father. No one will harm Larii as long as I have this,” Rhekir says proudly. He holds the spear out and investigates it thoroughly.
Garnek wishes his son good luck but is interrupted when Sernak comes out of his hut, snarling.
“Which one of the snot nosed children did this?” he growls.
“Relax, Father, what happened this time?” Garnek asks.
“Someone put rotten fish in between the skins on my hut!” Sernak looks around, scowling at the youngest ones.
Everyone around breaks out into laughter. Neera notices Larii hiding behind a tree keeping one hand in front of her mouth.
“You told her that story?” Neera asks while looking at Thoke.
Thoke’s face stiffens. He knows exactly what has happened here.
“I may have, yes.” His face loosens up as he begins to form a smile. He can see that everyone is staring at him, expecting the story to be told again. “When Dorkas and I were Larii’s age, we used to pull some pranks every now and then,” Thoke begins.
“Dorkas?” Janeg makes the name into a question.
“Dorkas was my best friend growing up,” Thoke continues. “Once, we filled the walls of a hut owned by a man named Grym with rotten fish. He scratched his head for days wondering where the smell came from.” Thoke chuckles. Sernak's sour expression makes Thoke’s chuckles turn into near hysterical laughter, and he is joined by several others.
Suddenly Mareks, Mekar's ten-year-old son, walks up to them with his head hanging low. He's a little gray thing, looking much like his mother. Carefully, he looks up at his father.
“Larii and I did it,” he whispers. Thoke and Neera look at Larii, who tries to hide behind the trunk of the birch tree, though it's quite small, even for her.
“Make sure they clean it all up,” Thoke commands. “But we have to go now, I'm afraid.”
Larii runs out of her hideout and pushes Mareks to the ground. The boy whimpers as he lands in a puff of snow.
“Coward!” she hisses at him.
The hunters leave with Terot taking the lead. Thoke cannot use his abilities this time around. Now it's up to Terot to find the prey. Terot's a man who never asks anyone for help, determined to get things done himself. Thoke wagers this will be a long hunt, as there seems to be little prey around.
The excitement rises high as the campsite disappears from view. Terot has begun at a fast pace and is way ahead of the rest. Serk and Gerak try desperately to catch up to their leader but remain several steps behind.
Thoke and Neera serve as the more experienced hunters for the test, remaining far behind the others. They will not have much of an impact on the tracking and are only there to assist during the bringing down of the animals while judging Terot's skills along the way.
“He's eager,” Neera says calmly, looking up at a running Terot.
“A bit too eager,” Thoke replies. “He's going to run himself empty before the hunt has even begun.”
“Let the boy run. Might be he finds something before long.”
“He hasn't been a boy for many winters now.”
“True, but he's still a boy to me. Don't you think it's strange to judge their hunting skills at this age?”
“Father always said one must be ready in the head before the body can do its best,” Thoke smiles, remembering his father, a large enough man to make even Garnek feel average. “Yes, they're a bit older than what we were, but these men are only used to following, not leading. I think everyone should know how it is to lead, at least once.”
“Did he think the same way about women?” Neera smiles a wicked smile. “About the body and head, I mean? There was no woman before me, I know.”
“True.” Thoke’s face flushes red, not expecting the question to make him so uneasy. “‘It's most important what happens in one’s head,’ he would say.” Thoke smiles and looks down at the snow in front of his feet. “He never gave any women away like most other tribes do. He'd let people decide for themselves.”
“Must have been a wise man, your father,” Neera says, her smile still thick on her lips.
“The wisest,” Thoke answers with a similar smile.
“My father didn't give me away either. Took a lot of arguing.” Neera places one arm around Thoke. She knows Thoke's old family is a heavy subject and that he rarely talks about them. Whenever Thoke opens up about them, even slightly, she would light up even the darkest of nights to make him feel better.
Back in the camp, Hiro sits on the boulder, keeping a lookout in all directions. Janeg is patrolling around the outskirts of the camp with the wolves close behind. The rest of the tribe does different chores, like mending their clothes, caring for the children, and making tools. Sernak still sits inside his hut, where the smell has improved drastically.
Larii runs and plays with Mareks and the nine-year-old girl, His. Contests are still Larii's favorite pastime. They run past Rhekir, who is striking flint. He needs new arrowheads for his bow, and his quiver is beginning to fill up.
“Rhekir, come play!” Larii shouts. Her brother barely looks up, either too fixed on his task or simply ignoring her. Thoke thinks Rhekir feels embarrassed to play with the children now.
Larii growls at her brother in annoyance. It’s meant to sound intimidating but sounds more like the squeak of a mouse. She leads the other two kids into the forest, running at full speed.
“Don't run too far. Keep the camp within sight!” Diseni yells out to them.
“We will, Mama!” His shouts back in her high-pitched voice.
Larii runs far in front of the others and deep into the woods. She doesn't turn to check where the camp is but simply runs straight ahead. Out of the corner of her eye, she notices something. She stops suddenly next to a bloody deer carcass. She stands there staring for a moment before being interrupted by His and Mareks.
“Larii! Aunt Diseni said not to run this far!” Mareks screams then also notices the carcass.
“Wow, who did that?” His asks, never taking her eyes away from the dead animal.
“Must be wolves,” Mareks answers, keeping his eyes fixed on the carcass.
“No it was not,” Larii cuts in. Her tone makes her words sound like mockery. She's always been interested in hunting and knows quite a bit about it. “This deer was killed by people. There are no tooth marks or scratches on it.” Larii bends down to show the others. “Besides, they didn't eat any of it.”
“But how did they kill it so close to us?” Mareks asks, shaking with fear.
“They didn't kill it here. We would have heard something. Maybe they put it here after,” Larii explains.
“How long has it been here you think?” His wonders.
Larii bends down further and inspects where it seems a spear has gone through the chest of the animal.
“No maggots on it, so it couldn't have been long,” she says.
“Ewww, maggots.” His grimaces.
The children stand there for a while looking at the dead deer. Larii suddenly hears a twig cracking somewhere in the forest. She grabs a stick off the ground, feeling stupid for leaving her spear back at the camp. Mareks and His fol
low her lead.
Something moves between the trees. Mareks and His take a few steps back. The fear is easy to see on their faces, but Larii stands fast, ready to meet whatever it is head-on.
From the woods, Rhekir comes running with his bow, an arrow nocked to the string. A sigh of relief comes from Mareks and His.
“There you are. We were worried about you,” Rhekir says, lowering his bow. “Get back now. You know this is too far.”
The children's faces grow stiff as a shadow moves behind Rhekir's right shoulder. Something brown furry and large comes into view.
“Bear!” Mareks points and screams before running away with His close behind.
Rhekir turns and struggles to get the arrow back on the string, fumbling for far too long. The bear sniffs the air, having caught the scent of dead meat. Larii thrusts her stick at the bear, who roars back at her. She stabs at its eyes, but the bear strikes the stick away with a heavy sweep of its massive paw.
Rhekir stands frozen to the ground, struggling to figure out whether to run or fight. Larii has it figured out, however. She rips the bow from her brother’s hands, grabs an arrow out his quiver, and places it on the string.
The bear lunges forward, but Larii manages to let and arrow loose before it gets to them. The big brute takes the arrow in the chest and stops. Quickly, Larii fires another arrow, hitting it square in the nose this time. The bear shakes its head as another hits it in its right paw.
With a groan, it turns slowly and walks away. Bears will often try to scare humans, but rarely risks serious injuries. “An injured bear is a dead bear,” her father will say. Seemingly disappointed, the bear waddles off into the woods.
Without a word, Larii gives Rhekir his bow. She can see the pain in his eyes, the feeling of coming up short again. No matter how hard her brother tries, he always seems to fail. Five years separate the two, but many times she feels braver than him.
“Come,” she begins softly. “Mareks and His are probably already back at camp.”
Rhekir follows his sister back to camp with his head hanging low. There they see Mareks and His waving their hands desperately in front of Diseni, clearly telling her what happened. When she spots Rhekir and Larii, she runs to them.
“What happened? Are you alright?” she asks when she reaches the siblings. She looks at Rhekir, but he doesn't answer. The shame must be too much for him.
“A deer lies dead in the forest there,” Larii says, pointing. “A bear came to smell it, but Rhekir shot it with his bow and scared it away. He saved us.” Larii looks up at her brother and smiles wide, causing him to do the same.
“Sounds like you saved the day,” Diseni says, also wearing a wide smile.
“Well … perhaps.” Rhekir hesitates a bit before answering.
Garnek comes wobbling toward them with his spear in hand. He heard the rabble when the kids ran into camp.
“What's going on now?” he asks, sounding like a bear himself.
“The children found a dead deer in the woods and came upon a bear, but Rhekir chased it away,” Diseni explains.
“Say what you said about the deer,” Mareks urges on.
“The deer was killed by a spear, I think,” Larii says, keeping her head down. She barely fears anything, but Garnek still frightens her some. “The carcass looked like what father has shown me.”
“This close to camp?” Garnek asks, looking shook and worried. “Get Janeg and show us where you found the animal.”
“I know where he is,” Diseni exclaims before running off to find Janeg.
Larii, Rhekir, Janeg, and Garnek all go to the carcass. The two brothers agree that the animal was killed by humans, and probably not here due to the lack of blood. They share worried looks as the make their inspection.
“I've seen this before,” Garnek says, kneeling on his good knee. “Father did something similar many years back. He killed a caribou, took out the best pieces of meat, and placed the rest near an enemy camp. Not long after came the wolves, and the enemy tribe were a problem no more.” Garnek pulls himself up by his spear. “Let our wolves have the deer then begin patrolling a bit further out. Rhekir, you will patrol as well now. I'll tell Hiro he needs to keep his eyes sharp. We cannot afford to miss something like this again. Someone knows we're here and wants us gone.”
CHAPTER 14
Three whole days pass, and the hunters are beginning to become frustrated. They're resting at a hilltop. Everyone but Terot, that is. He’s still wandering around looking for signs of prey. He doesn't have long now before Thoke takes charge of the hunt.
All they have caught are some hares and small birds, only enough to keep themselves going. The weather has remained favorable with dense clouds, light wind, and decently warm air.
They have wandered far from camp, and it will take them at least a day to get back. The others are probably hungry, and their supplies won't last forever.
Thoke and Neera sit together, sharing a piece of burned meat. It's a bit too burned, Thoke feels, as he crunches a near coal like bite.
“Almost no prey out here either,” Neera says in a low voice.
“It's troubling.” Thoke rubs the knot in his beard and touches the rib bone necklace around his neck, a habit he's gotten used to when he ponders something. “I haven't seen or heard anything either, so we can't blame Terot for this, that’s for sure.”
Reluctantly, he tears off another piece of meat. He's probably going to need his strength in the coming days.
“Maybe we should just take the trip up to the plains and use Sernak's traps?” Neera suggests. “It's not far from here.”
Thoke grabs for his beard again and down his chest to where the necklace hangs. Using the traps would give Terot an unfair advantage, but from the looks of it, no one will be able to catch anything out here.
“You’re right,” Thoke says. “This leads nowhere, and we're too close to the ravages’ territory. But the tribe needs meat.” Thoke stands and whistles for the others to listen. “We'll head up to the plains and use some of the traps. We need to leave camp and move as quickly as possible. Terot stays in charge of the hunt.”
Terot is clearly frustrated but would never defy his chief. This way he gets to continue, even if the traps are like a crutch.
After having walked for close to a whole day, they get to the plains. There's not too much snow up here as most of it blows away before ever getting to settle down. Spots of snow, heather, moss, and rocks riddle the landscape. Not a tree or even a bush are in sight.
Thoke steps in front of the others, stopping them. He stands with his back to them, holding one hand up.
“I know these plains better than my own hut, and that was not there last time,” Thoke says, pointing at some rocks that have been stacked in a chest-high half circle. This is a common construction used for hunting. Thoke has been a part of erecting some in this area, but there's still a ways to go before they get to the tribe’s dwellings. The last time Thoke was here, granted many years ago, that half circle certainly was not.
He hushes the others as they approach and makes sure they stay far behind him. Carefully, he sneaks up and peeks over the edge. There, a man lies sleeping with his spear and bow and arrows by his side. Thoke is not surprised by the sight, having heard the snoring from far away.
He signals to the others, who take out their spears and surround the opening. With their spears pointing at the man, Thoke kicks one of his legs. The man opens his eyes sharply and stands up with his back against the wall. Clearly bewildered, he looks at them with fear in his eyes.
“Who are you and what are you doing here?” Thoke asks with as much intimidation in his voice as he can muster. The man stands trembling, unable to get a single word out. “Speak!” Thoke shouts.
With a lunge, the man throws himself over the edge of the half circle and runs out into the plain.
Terot looks at Thoke, who gives him a short nod, and then runs after the man. They both run across the plain with great speed. Te
rot's short yet muscular legs hit the ground with high frequency, and he quickly catches up to the fleeing man.
He jumps and tackles the man to the ground. They roll over moss and rock before Terot gets on top and holds him down. He grabs his throat and pushes down on the rocks, just as he notices two legs right in front of him. Terot looks up at not one but three men armed with daggers.
Ravages! They have marked themselves with the usual black stripes on their faces, but they are now dressed for the colder season.
Thoke and the others are already running toward them. Terot gets to his feet and holds his spear up at them. The spear has cracked almost in two from rolling on the ground. Thoke can swear he hears Terot's heart pounding beneath his chest, but it must be his imagination.
The other man crawls quickly over to the ravages and stands up behind them. One of the ravages signals to the others with a wave, and they run off, probably realizing they’re outnumbered.
“Shall we follow?” Terot asks, looking back at Thoke, who runs up to him.
“You'll stay and set up the traps. I'll deal with the ravages myself,” Thoke answers.
With his eyes fixed on the fleeing ravages, he runs after them in a plume of snow and tossed heather. Terot is about to join him, but is held back by Neera.
“He's gonna get himself killed!” Terot screams. Gerak and Serk stand next to him, ready to go.
“If Thoke says he'll deal with it, he will,” Neera says. “Your job is to catch prey, and we'll help you. Thoke can take care of himself. Now get to it!” Neera's last words have some extra sting to them, making her sound fierce. The boys dare not defy her. After some growls and snarls, they give up.
Thoke catches up to the ravages quickly enough, but keeps his distance. He wants to know where they go and then finally find their camp. They suddenly disappear near the end of the plain. The bedrock and large boulders around them have cracks, making it easy to hide. Thoke moves slowly while sniffing the air, listening for movements. He walks between the boulders and down a steep hillside, keeping his spear up and forward.
