Beyond Belief (Clan of the Ice Mountains Book 4) Read online

  “No need to say more.” Tingiyok put up his hand. “The first time it happened, I was holding Suka’s daughter. She went from cooing to screaming, and I almost dropped her!”

  They all laughed. Suka’s daughter cried louder than any of the other pooliks.

  “While we’re waiting for this strong wind to die down, I’m taking Ganik, Kossu, and Chonik out into the grasslands to the east, by the rock men,” Tingiyok said. “Rusik and Mantouk have asked me to begin training the two younger ones to set snares, and Kossu wants to come along. Do you?”

  “Their fathers asked you?” Rika sat beside them, picking up some small sewing.

  “Seers don’t train their own boys to hunt. We believe the boy’s father may not be tough enough on his own son. And without the proper skills and ability to persevere in the hunt when things get difficult, the rest of the Clan will suffer.”

  Tingiyok handed the poolik to Rika. “We’re ready to leave. Will you join us?”

  Attu glanced at Rika. She nodded. “All is well here. Go.”

  Attu joined Kossu as he walked from his shelter to where the others waited at the edge of camp. Kossu grinned at Attu as they moved out toward the hills north and east of camp. Kossu, the oldest of Rusik’s sons, was nearing the time of his hunter’s ceremony and needed no instruction. Attu suspected Veshria had sent him to make sure Ganik behaved himself, but Attu also knew that going with the younger boys was a chance for Kossu to spend time with Attu and Tingiyok and to let them see his skills.

  “Kossu has already set several rabbit snares off the path to the lake. Should we check those first?” Chonik asked.

  “It’s a good place to start,” Tingiyok said. They headed north through the flat land toward the lake.

  Chonik was a short sturdy boy, the son of Mantouk and his woman, Trika, two other Seers who’d joined Attu’s Clan. He was about Ganik’s age but seemed to have more common sense, except when he was following Ganik. Chonik followed Ganik without question, no matter how crazy the boy’s schemes.

  “Kossu is best with the snares, and Chonik with finding the long roots to use for the snares. But I’m best at spotting where to put them. I’m good at finding the animals’ paths and footprints.”

  “Ganik, it’s wrong to brag,” Kossu said, tousling his younger brother’s hair.

  “Aww, you know it’s true,” Ganik whined.

  “Your brother is right,” Tingiyok said. “The true hunter never brags about his own skills and is careful not to say too much about another’s. The spirits are always listening, and they do not reward the hunter whose pride is puffed up like the nuknuk bull at mating time.”

  The boys laughed at this.

  Attu watched Kossu expertly set a snare. Soon he will be ready for his hunter’s ceremony. Who will become his woman? There is none here available.

  A cry pierced the air.

  “What was that?” Ganik shouted.

  “Hush!” Kossu clamped a hand over Ganik’s mouth.

  “It came from over there,” Tingiyok said. “Stay behind us.”

  Attu and Tingiyok took the lead, running low to the ground. The boys followed. Attu glanced back to see Ganik keeping pace, quiet now, but scowling from his brother’s scolding. Ahead, the noise grew louder.

  Coming up over a small rise, Attu signaled a halt and dropped to the ground. Below them, a moose was bawling, flinging its antlers back and forth. On its side hung an animal like Attu had seen in his vision. It was large, although not compared to the moose. It looked like a bear, but smaller and with a longer snout. It was trying to rip at the moose with its teeth and front feet.

  “Look there,” Tingiyok whispered. Near the edge of what appeared to be a small cave, another of the bear-like animals, much smaller than the one still fighting the moose, was lying torn and bloody, its eyes wide in death.

  “Its mate?” Kossu whispered, slipping up beside the older hunters.

  “Maybe,” Attu said.

  The moose pushed off with its hind legs and landed with a jolt on its front ones. The bear-like animal lost its grip and fell to the ground. The moose lowered its head and caught its attacker with the full force of its huge antlers. It ground the animal into the dirt, twisting and pushing its spiky points into the animal like spears. The animal screamed in pain. The hairs on Attu’s neck rose. Chonik gasped and covered his ears as the animal continued to cry out.

  Muscles straining in its neck and shoulders, the moose lifted its attacker, now impaled on its antlers, and twisting its whole body, the moose threw the animal several spear lengths, where it crunched to the rocky ground, lifeless.

  Ganik started to rise, but Tingiyok pulled him down. “This moose is still in the blood lust of killing. If it sees you, you will be the next to feel the force of those powerful antlers.”

  “We don’t try to kill it?” Ganik said. “The meat. You said we need-”

  “We need to stay alive,” Attu said. “We wait here until it leaves.”

  The moose walked over to where the larger of the two bear-like animals lay, pawing at it as if to make sure it was dead. Then, without a backward glance, it trotted away toward the river.

  Attu waited until the moose was out of sight behind the next hill before he signaled the others to investigate the dead animals.

  “I’ve never seen anything like them,” Tingiyok said. “Are they like the animals in your vision, Attu?”

  Attu examined the larger one. “This one looks a lot like the animals I saw pulling the sleds in my vision, but it’s larger and its fur is lighter.” He walked over to the smaller one. “This one is about the size of the animals I saw. But its fur is darker on its back, with all these markings of different colors on its sides and white underneath. I’ve never seen an animal like that, black and brown and white all on one body. Have you?”

  Tingiyok shook his head.

  “Ganik. Chonik. Where are you?” Kossu called. He looked around. “They were just here beside me.”

  “In here,” a voice answered from what Attu had suspected to be a small cave.

  “Get out of there!” Kossu hollered, running toward the cave with Attu and Tingiyok on his heels. “You don’t know if there are more...”

  His words faded as the two boys came out of the cave. Chonik carried a large furry bundle that was trying to claw its way up his chest. Ganik was struggling to hang on to two more.

  “Look what we found. No, come back!” Ganik cried as one of the animals leaped free of his arms and ran to the smaller of the two dead animals and pushed at its side. When it got no response from its mother, the little creature licked her face, lying with its belly on the ground, whimpering and swinging its long tail back and forth so rapidly it blurred.

  The sound of its crying tugged at Attu.

  The whining animal turned at Tingiyok’s approach. Its fur stood up and it growled. Its whole body shook as it stood its ground over its mother.

  “A braver kip I have never seen,” Tingiyok said. He grinned.

  “Kip?” Attu looked at the animal. It didn’t look much like a baby nuknuk to him.

  “Might as well call them kips, since we don’t know what they are.”

  Tingiyok held his hand out to the kip. Attu was surprised when the animal didn’t bite the Elder, but stopped growling and sniffed Tingiyok’s hand, instead. Tingiyok reached out further, and the animal let him pick it up by the scruff of its neck, like nuknuk mothers picked up their babies. Tingiyok cradled it in his arms, and the kip sniffed at one of Tingiyok’s pockets, where he had some dried meat.

  “Good nose,” Tingiyok said. “I think this one is more hungry than afraid.” He gave it a small bite of meat. The kip gobbled it up. “The mother must have been gone for some time on the hunt.”

  Chonik, Ganik, and Kossu sat on the ground in a circle with the other kips in the middle. Ganik was feeding his dried sunset fish strip to one of them, the largest one, light-colored like its father. The other was much smaller and preferred Chonik and Kossu in
turn.

  “What do we do with them?” Kossu asked. “They will die without their mother and father.”

  “But it would be the Nuvik way not to disturb the balance of the spirits,” Tingiyok said. “Some predator will come along soon...”

  “No! No!” Ganik and Chonik cried out together.

  “Leave the kips for now,” Tingiyok said. He put the kip he was holding down and moved to where many tracks went up over the hill. “We are here for your training. Tell me what you see.”

  Ganik and Chonik reluctantly set the other two kips down and walked over to where Tingiyok was pointing.

  “Lots of tracks,” Ganik said. He scowled at Tingiyok, angry at having to put down the kip he’d been holding. Kossu gave him a look, and Ganik dropped his eyes.

  “When the moose came up over the hill, it was running,” Chonik said, pointing to the wide-spaced hoof prints.

  “Good,” Tingiyok said.

  “And both adults were chasing it,” Ganik said, not to be outdone by Chonik.

  “What else?” Tingiyok asked. The boys studied the tracks but said nothing. Tingiyok turned to Kossu.

  “The path the moose took was the most direct and easiest, given the terrain it was running on,” Kossu said after a moment. “I think it was an accident that the fight ended here by the animals’ shelter, although...” he shook his head, changing his mind. “It would be the smart thing to do to drive the moose back here, where once it was dead, the kips could feed on the meat too, without going too far from their shelter. And the parents wouldn’t have to guard both the meat and their shelter, or drag hunks of the meat a long distance to their cave, attracting other predators.” He looked to Tingiyok.

  “I agree. Which tells us more about these animals. They are very smart. It should have worked. But the moose was just too big for the two of them, too powerful.”

  As Attu was listening to Tingiyok teach the boys, he considered how the women would react if he brought the kips back to camp. He knew for certain that Rika would be afraid the kips might hurt their pooliks. And she would probably be right. The adults had tried to take down a full-grown moose. The kips had sharp teeth. They could kill a baby.

  But the men who drove the bear-like animals had to keep them in their camps, didn’t they? And somehow the animals had to be trained to pull the sleds, to go where the men wanted them to go. It all seemed so strange to Attu. Except, he thought, perhaps not so strange after all. If I can work in an animal’s mind to have it do my bidding, why couldn’t an animal be taught like a poolik, with treats, with kind words and things it desired, to do what a person wanted it to do?

  One by one, the kips ran up to the boys, sniffing at their clothing for more meat.

  Tingiyok and Attu stepped away, nodding to the boys that they could resume playing with the kips. “They’re learning already,” Tingiyok said after Attu had shared his thoughts. “I think we can teach these kips. You can mind blend with them. And then, when the men come, we will know how to get their animals to do what we want. Do you think your mind-blending could overcome whatever training the animals had from their men, if we needed it to?”

  “I don’t know. If our people are threatened, I might have to enter the animals’ minds against their wills...” Attu didn’t like the idea, but if necessary he would do it. “It would be better if we knew what would work best to influence them with their consent.”

  “I believe it is no accident that we found these kips today.” Tingiyok watched as Kossu put down the kip he was holding, then walked a spear-length away from it and turned, holding out meat. The kip ran toward him, jumping up on him, trying to reach the food.

  “Perhaps this is part of Attuanin’s plan,” Attu agreed. “Knowing how to influence the animals should give us an advantage and might keep us all safe.”

  Attu hadn’t really understood exactly what he and Keanu and Soantek were going to do with the animals, but in the vision they’d prepared to mind blend with them. And as Attu thought about it, it made sense. If they could turn the attackers’ animals away, they would have more time to prepare a defense.

  “Maybe we could make the animals run over thin ice and fall in, drowning the attacking men.”

  “That would drown the animals, too.”

  “That doesn’t seem right.” Attu found his mind pulling away from his initial idea. He wondered at his feelings toward these creatures.

  “I feel the same way,” Tingiyok said.

  “Even though they might grow up to be as dangerous as their father and mother were? You saw how that male was clinging to the moose. And yet...” Attu wondered about the vision, about what that future danger might include. He turned his thoughts inward for a moment, seeking a sign from the spirits that they should keep the animals. But he sensed nothing. He looked to Tingiyok.

  “I believe we should keep them,” the Elder said.

  “We will take the kips back with us,” Attu announced. The two younger boys began the ululation cry at Attu’s words but stopped—their mouths agape—when the largest kip sat, lifted his nose to the sky, and made a noise much like the boys’ cry, long and wavering. And loud.

  “He is already part of our Clan,” Chonik said, his face solemn. “He knows the celebration cry.”

  And so he does, Attu thought. What a strange confirmation we are making the right decision in keeping the kips. Thank you, Attuanin.

  Ganik threw back his head again, and soon all three kips were sitting like the first one, crying out with the two younger boys, every little face to the sky.

  Chapter 4

  “I do not want that animal in here with our children,” Rika said.

  She’d refused to hold the smaller, dark-colored kip Attu had chosen. He’d thought if she’d just looked into its eyes, felt its warm softness... but Rika would have none of it.

  “It might bite our children. What were you thinking, Attu, bringing live animals into our shelter?”

  Attu left with the kip. He knew Rika was right. Maybe Tingiyok will take it.

  Tingiyok was thrilled to take the small dark female. The large male had gone with Ganik and Kossu. They had no pooliks in their shelter either, so it was ideal. Attu didn’t think he’d have been able to take the kip from Ganik anyway. The boy had clung to it all the way back to camp, and it seemed equally fond of the boy. It was all so strange to Attu.

  “Animals are food,” Ubantu said as he walked with Attu and the last female kip to Keanu and Soantek’s shelter.

  “I know. You don’t capture their young and bring them into your shelter to be part of your Clan. You don’t feed them and let them play with your children.” Attu wrestled with his conflicted thoughts. “To do so would be the ultimate foolishness. Everyone else would know you were crazy. Yet in my vision, I saw these animals pulling the sleds. They’d obviously been taught to pull and must live with the men who were riding behind them.”

  Attu and Ubantu gave the greeting at the entrance to Keanu and Soantek’s shelter. Keanu invited them in, and they all sat. Keanu reached for the female kip and held it gently, stroking its ears and neck. The kip nuzzled into her and closed its eyes.

  “What amazing creatures,” Soantek said, gazing at the now sleeping kip. “It’s like this little one knows it is safe with us. How?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You are worried the adult animals escaped from the men we saw in your vision and those men might be nearby?” Keanu turned anxious eyes on Attu.

  “Animals run from humans. But these kips didn’t. It makes me wonder.”

  “And we’ve never seen any before,” Ubantu said.

  “I’ve been thinking about the possibilities,” Keanu said. “You said the male was much larger than the female. Could it be some of these creatures were taken by the men and trained to pull sleds, but some are also much larger and live on their own as predators?”

  “I would like to think these kips’ parents were wild ones of their kind because then we wouldn’t have to be wo
rried about the men with the sleds being close by.” Attu glanced out the open shelter flap at the bare ground around their camp. “But it could grow cold and snow any day now. What do you think we should do?”

  “Keanu has been flying with birds each day to make sure no one is approaching our camp. She can see for great distances from the air,” Soantek said.

  “I don’t think they’re close by, yet.” Keanu stroked the sleeping kip, her face thoughtful. “Do you want us to start working with this kip, mind blending with it?”

  “Yes. I was hoping you’d be able to. Rika won’t let one stay with us.”

  Soantek and Keanu exchanged glances. They looked doubtful. Attu’s heart sank.

  Keanu scratched the kip again and it stretched. She looked to Soantek.

  “I know we need to learn as much as we can about them before some of their kind bring a new enemy to us,” Soantek agreed. “But with Keanu flying every day and me hunting,” he shrugged, “I don’t know if we’ll be able to care for the kip, too. But we’ll try.”

  Attu left the shelter with Ubantu, feeling frustrated that he couldn’t keep one of the kips for himself, even though he knew it wasn’t a good idea with the pooliks.

  Ubantu put a hand on Attu’s shoulder before turning back to his own shelter. Attu walked to his.

  Maybe we can rig an enclosure of some kind in the shelter, to keep the kip away from the babies. Attu decided to ask Rika one more time to reconsider keeping one of the kips. But as he walked into the shelter, Rika was struggling to feed their son while their daughter fussed. As the door flapped closed behind him, Attu’s daughter began to cry.

  “She just finished eating. I don’t know what’s wrong,” Rika said. She looked exhausted, a new mother overcome with the task of caring for twins. Attu realized he couldn’t ask his woman to take a kip. Even if she were willing and they could keep it away from the pooliks, it would be too much for Rika when he was gone. Attu had to hunt. And he had to lead, which took him away from the shelter often.

  Attu picked his daughter up and soothed her as best he could. Since bringing home the kips, he’d been able to think of little else. Attu was now convinced Attuanin had sent them to that spot with the curious Ganik, so the boy would find the kips. Knowing about these animals must be crucial for them.