Beyond Belief (Clan of the Ice Mountains Book 4) Page 14

  “I will allow this animal to die with honor,” Attu said. He spoke the words over the animal and then struck it with the killing club.

  Grey Wolf watched Attu and then walked away, toward Ganik.

  Attu winced, but didn’t move to stop Grey Wolf.

  Tingiyok mind spoke his own hopes to Attu. We need to know he can do this, can kill to protect, then turn off that violence and become the gentle friend of the boy again.

  Ganik looked at his bloody dog, and for a moment Attu thought he would run from the animal. But Ganik took in a deep breath and held his hand out for Grey Wolf. The great dog licked it, as if asking forgiveness for growling at Ganik earlier. Ganik petted the top of Grey Wolf’s head, and Grey Wolf leaned into the boy, his eyes sliding shut in pleasure at Ganik’s touch.

  “I think that might have been all the wild dogs.” Attu agreed with the other hunters later as they discussed the night’s events. “But we need to keep our own dogs close to camp, both to protect them and to alert if other dogs are coming.”

  “Grey Wolf couldn’t have fought all six of the other dogs on his own and lived,” Ubantu said.

  “But I bet he would have taken more than one of the thieves’ dogs with him into the Between where dog spirits go,” Suka said.

  Lips popped. Tonight the other hunters had seen what Grey Wolf could do. Attu realized that although he and Tingiyok had told the others about how the pup’s parents had gone after the moose, they hadn’t elaborated on the animals’ ability to fight because they’d wanted the others to let the pups into the Clan.

  Now that the other hunters knew, Attu had expected at least some of them would be concerned about the young dogs. But by attacking the thieves’ dogs, Grey Wolf had become a hunter like them, a true defender of the Clan.

  Attu realized that’s what Toonuk had meant about their dogs being “almost people.” Surely the Tuktu thought of their dogs the same way Attu’s hunters were thinking of Grey Wolf now, as defenders of their herds and their families, companions as well as fellow herders.

  “If there are any others, we don’t know how bold they might get, especially with it being winter and the game scarce,” Tingiyok was saying as Attu turned his attention back to the conversation. “When I’m out with the boys, we’ll watch for tracks. But I want to take Warm Fur with me when we go out, for protection. I know the dogs are still pups, and Warm Fur is much smaller than Grey Wolf, but she’ll let us know if other dogs are in the area so I can keep the boys safe.”

  Another moon passed. Guards were still posted day and night, but no more of the thieves’ dogs came near camp and Keanu saw no sign of any thief bands on her daily flight. The days were beginning to get longer, but like it had on the Expanse, the weather became colder. Not the deep cold of Attu’s childhood, but colder than the Clan had experienced since coming off the Expanse.

  Attu walked through camp on one of those cold days. His foot miks squeaked on the snow as he heard Ganik and Chonik arguing near the ocean edge of camp. As he approached them, their voices raised even louder.

  “I did so beat you,” Ganik shouted. “My spit went farther than yours by at least an arm length.”

  “No it didn’t,” Chonik said, his voice full of stubborn resolution. He glared at Ganik. “I won’t play this game with you if you keep cheating.”

  Attu thought about playing spitting games with Suka when they were boys. Each would stand on one side of a line they had drawn in the snow. Then they would spit. The winner was the one who spit the farthest. When they’d played that game, it had been to have an excuse to spit, to see their saliva freeze in the air and shatter as crystals of ice when it hit the ground. And just like for these two boys, it had been a game to be played at the edge of camp, away from the disapproving eyes of their mothers.

  Ganik shouted even louder. He pushed Chonik, who fell backward in the snow. Before Attu could stop them, Chonik was back on his feet and the two were fighting, throwing wild punches with their mik-clad fists, doing little damage to each other, but escalating both boys’ anger.

  “Enough!” Attu moved to push between them, but before he could, a grey blur shot past him, bowling Chonik over onto his back again. The boy stopped moving, his eyes wide as Grey Wolf planted his front feet on Chonik’s chest and growled, baring his teeth.

  “No!” Ganik shouted, grabbing Grey Wolf by the scruff of his neck and pulling him off Chonik.

  Attu thrust out his mind to the half-wolf as he shouted, “Lay down!”

  Grey Wolf dropped to the ground. His eyes squinted and his ears flattened. Still in Grey Wolf’s mind, Attu saw the scene as the animal understood it – the two boys fighting, his boy shouting – and Attu knew Grey Wolf had thought Ganik was about to be hurt by the other boy, even though Ganik had started the fight.

  No. Attu showed Grey Wolf how he had seen the argument, and then, inspired to try something else, Attu thought, Pups wrestling. One gets ear bit. Then fight. Adult wolf stops fight when pups get too rough with each other. He conveyed his ideas visually, a combination of mind speak and mind blending.

  Grey Wolf’s confusion vanished. To Attu, it felt like something slipped into place in the animal’s mind. He knew the wolf understood him. At the same time, Attu had a realization. When he thought of the other two pups, he thought of them as their mother was, as dogs. But he couldn’t think of Grey Wolf that way.

  Wolf, Grey Wolf’s thought intruded on his own and Attu drew back, startled. He hadn’t meant for the pup to hear his last thoughts. But then, out of curiosity, he moved into Grey Wolf’s mind again, wondering if the wildness he’d sensed there during the fight with the thieves’ dogs would still be as strong.

  Attu saw two grey wolves standing beside each other, one larger than the other. As the image became clear, he realized this was how Grey Wolf saw himself. Tishria had been right. The pup saw himself as wolf, as his father, not as a dog like his mother. Grey Wolf picked up on Attu’s thoughts of his mother.

  Gone. Attu felt the immense void left where the pup’s parents should have been.

  We are your pack now. Attu projected images of Grey Wolf and the other two pups, running with the children, then grown, hunting with the adults, pulling sleds, guarding the camp and fighting the wild dogs. Before he could stop himself, Attu also saw Grey Wolf, now a fully-grown male, attacking a Tuktu thief. He pulled back from that thought, but felt a question from Grey Wolf as the pup’s eyes continued to gaze into his own.

  Someday, Attu tried to communicate. All people are not pack. For now, hurt no human.

  Grey Wolf stood, walked to where Chonik had pulled himself to his feet, and sat in front of the boy.

  “He wants you to know he’s sorry,” Ganik said. “Pet him.”

  Chonik reached out a tentative hand. Grey Wolf wagged his tail twice and licked Chonik’s mik.

  The bark of the bushes near the lake turned a brighter shade of red. Attu’s people grew restless as the weather warmed above freezing several days in a row. It was still cold, but the long days of winter had given way to the growing daylight of early spring. The pooliks were growing too, and Yural’s son, the first to be born, was also the first to sit up.

  “Soon it will be time for his naming,” Attu’s mother crooned at her sturdy son, out on this milder day and riding in Yural’s hood.

  “Will you have my brother’s naming soon, or wait for the others?” Attu asked as they walked through camp toward his shelter. Yural wanted to visit with Rika, but since the weather was warmer, she had ventured outside, rather than use the snow tunnels linking their shelters with the group snow house.

  Many of the Clan were out today. Men worked on hunting equipment or helped their women clean the sleeping furs. Attu watched as Rovek piled snow onto one of the furs, grinding the snow into the fur with his miks. Meavu was working on another smaller fur, which had apparently lain in the snow long enough. She picked it up and shook it, sending snow everywhere to the delight of her son. He squealed as the snow fell on Me
avu’s hood and some landed on him. He reached out his mik-covered hand, trying to catch some of the sparkling whiteness.

  The love of snow, Attu thought. We are born with it.

  “I did it!” Attu turned as Kossu came running through the camp toward him. “I did it! Look!” The young hunter held out a bow. “It works!”

  The Clan gathered at the edge of camp to see Kossu’s bow in action. Kossu was right. The bow pulled hard but didn’t break, and the arrow flew much farther than anyone had expected. After the shot, Kossu held up the bow, so all could see it had retained its original shape.

  “How many arrows have you shot with it?” Ubantu asked, reaching for the bow. Kossu handed it to him.

  “At least forty,” Kossu said. “This one is different. I’m certain it will keep its shape.”

  Tingiyok took the bow from Kossu. He unstrung the sinew bowstring, examining how the bow straightened to what must have been its original shape, with only the bit of curve Kossu had carved into it.

  Soantek took the bow then and tried to restring it. He couldn’t bend the bow far enough to hook the string onto the notch at the opposite end.

  “Here,” Kossu said. “Brace the bow against your foot mik, like this.” He braced the butt of the bow against his instep and then slowly bent it until Attu thought it must surely break. But the bow held, and the sinew string slipped on.

  “Even if the bow only held for a few shots like the others we made, still it is a weapon worth making,” Soantek said. “This bow bends harder than the ones the Tuktu gave us, so our arrows will shoot farther.”

  Lips popped, and several hunters pounded Kossu on the back. The young hunter beamed.

  “Where did you find this wood?” Attu asked.

  “Down by the lake. It was hidden in the middle of a thick stand of tall bushes surrounded by larger pine trees. The bow wood trees are small and all have a tight slick bark that peels off easily. Underneath, the wood seems too wet, as if it would bend and break. But I slipped the bark off and then let the wood sit near the fire for a few days to dry. I bent one too soon, and it cracked like a green twig.”

  Lips popped again, now in dismay at the loss of one of the weapons.

  Kossu nodded his agreement. “So I left the others for a few more days, about half a moon in total. Then I began to carve the curve and the notches. I didn’t say anything to anyone this time, because I wasn’t sure that drying the wood would make a difference. I didn’t want to get our hopes up for nothing. This is my first finished one. I took it out this morning to try, and I’ve shot it over and over again. I think it’s going to hold up. Look at how it snaps back, right to its original form.”

  “How many can you make?” Ubantu asked.

  “Enough for everyone. I will need to cut more, let them dry-” Kossu began.

  “Do not cut them all,” Yural spoke up. “Be careful to leave the smaller ones, and do not step on the smallest if there are any.”

  “There are, and I have been careful,” Kossu assured her, looking to all of them. “My spirit drew me to this place, and my name spirit warned me to be careful,” he added. “I believe my father also guided me from the Between.”

  “Then we thank the spirits and Rusik,” Yural said. Everyone dropped their heads, paying respect to the dead.

  Veshria stood beside Keanu and Farnook. Tears streamed down her face, and a look of both pride at her son and fresh anguish at the loss of her man mingled there. Attu looked away, his own eyes filling at the sight.

  “You must show these trees to the rest of us, so no one accidently cuts any for the fire,” Attu said.

  “I’ll show everyone, but it’s very hard to get to them. I had to cut through the thorn bushes and avoid the swampy areas. I don’t think anyone would try that hard just for kindling.”

  Several men, including Attu, went with Kossu toward his snow house to examine the other trees to be made into bows.

  “Bows that powerful will need better arrows than the ones we’ve been making.” Ubantu grinned.

  “We can harden them and straighten them even more using fire, like we Nukeena did to shape pieces of our canoes.” Soantek ducked into the snow house with the others. “I still have one of the tools.”

  “Feathers will need to be added,” Tingiyok said, stepping inside just ahead of Attu. “We can use the same pine glue we use for the skin boats to seal the seams. Just a touch should keep the feathers on the end of the arrows.”

  Including the five bows they already had, soon all the men had bows and arrows of their own. Even Ganik and Chonik had small ones. Kossu took the bow that had split, cut off the broken middle, and used the two pieces on either end to carve two small bows, lighter and thinner than the men’s, yet true weapons.

  “This is much better than the ones I could make.” Ganik grinned when Kossu gave him the small bow. “Come on!” he called to Chonik, and the two ran down the beach to try out their new bows.

  “Not too far,” Kossu called after them.

  Attu laughed as Ganik shot at a water bird walking on the beach. He missed, and the bird flew away, its cry shrill.

  “Nothing will be safe from those two now,” Kossu said.

  “Tingiyok will instruct them in the proper use of the bow. He’ll make sure they respect the animals, or Ganik will find himself without his new weapon.” Attu walked toward the other men. He needed to practice shooting as well or Suka was going to make another contest out of it when he saw how much better he could shoot than Attu.

  “Veshria still isn’t speaking, but yesterday I saw her smile as Ganik stood at the target with the men, practicing shooting his little bow,” Rika said. She stood stirring the cooking skins over the nuknuk lamp. She brushed a drip of melting snow from her face, glancing up at the roof of their snow house. “Should we start building our hide shelter soon? The weather is warming, but it still seems too early.”

  Their son and daughter were rolling around in the furs on the sleeping platform. Attu was watching them, careful not to let either child fall, but letting them move and crawl as much as they could. “Like our children, who seem too young to be crawling about, the winter seems too short here. When it was so cold, it felt like we were living on the Expanse again. But that time has passed. The seasons will change here; the ice is beginning to break, and I must admit I’m looking forward to getting back into my skin boat again.”

  His daughter had made it to the edge of the platform and began sliding down the side, her small hands clutching the fur she was on, as if she were riding down a snow hill on a hide sled.

  “Oh, no you don’t,” Attu said, and moved her back to the safety of the middle.

  “Yural says at the next full moon we’ll have the naming ceremony.” Rika scooped some fish stew into their bowls, handed Attu one, then moved to sit on the opposite end of the sleeping platform where she could keep an eye on her son.

  “I believe it’s a good thing to name all the pooliks at once. Meavu’s is almost six moons, having been born early. My brother is eight moons, but Mother wanted to wait and name him with the others. Have you women gotten together to make sure none are named the same name?” Attu asked.

  Rika laughed. “Do you know how tricky that is to do? Without giving away the actual name ahead of time?” She snatched her son from the edge of the platform, playfully rolling him back toward his sister. The boy wrestled with the fur he was holding before shoving it into his mouth.

  “I’d better eat quickly,” Rika observed. “Our son is getting hungry.

  “The rest of my meat cache is gone,” Rovek told Attu the next day. “I know I had at least two more seals and part of a nuknuk stored there.”

  “Do you think more of the thieves’ dogs got into it?” Attu asked.

  “I couldn’t tell,” Rovek said. “I’d brought Ganik and Chonik with me. I told them their mothers could have the meat if they helped me drag it back to them. Grey Wolf was with them, and he smelled the cache first and sniffed around it so much befor
e I reached it and found it open and empty that I couldn’t tell if all the tracks were his.”

  Rovek shrugged. “I don’t need the meat. But I thought you should know.”

  That night, as Attu slept, he dreamed of the vision. He awoke with a muffled cry, working to calm himself and not awaken Rika or the babies.

  Remember, he told himself, in the vision it is winter. And it is now spring. The snow is almost gone. My people are building their hide shelters again. It may snow again, but the ground is so muddy now, sleds won’t travel well. As soon as they stopped, they’d be mired in the mud on the plains. Thieves may come, but not by sled, at least until next winter. And right now, with all this mud, no one can travel far. Then Attu thought of the missing meat. Still, the wild dogs may be lurking nearby. We will stay prepared.

  The next morning, Attu went to Keanu’s shelter. Soantek welcomed him in with a finger to his lips. “She flies,” he said, motioning to where Keanu sat, her eyes wide but unseeing. “But stay. She’ll be back soon.”

  Even with the mud surrounding them, Keanu was entering a bird’s mind every day and, with the bird’s permission, flying over a large expanse. She watched for tracks in the dead grass and mud, rather than for people, since they knew the thieves could hide themselves well during the day. She had been flying for most of the winter, ever since she had recovered from the sickness and was strong enough to do so.

  “You have other responsibilities,” Keanu had told Attu when he objected to her patrolling every day without his help. “Let me do what I’m good at.” Attu had realized the wisdom of her words and made no more objections.

  A few days ago, a Clan of swift gulls had taken up residence in the rocky hills to the north. Keanu had promised them no one from the Clan would take eggs from their nests if one of them would be willing to fly with her whenever she asked them to.

  “They are simple birds and their eyesight is not as keen as the hawk’s I flew in over the winter, but they aren’t distracted by every rock rabbit or mouse animal they see.” Keanu rolled her eyes as she stretched, coming back into the Here and Now of the shelter and her visitor.