Ivory and Bone(20)
“You can’t go on foot,” my mother says.
I squat on the ground outside the door to the kitchen, prepping my pack for the journey by the dim glow that comes just before sunrise, though at this time of year, as the days grow longer and warmer, the night sky never goes completely black. Instead it darkens to a deep blue—as blue as the sea that reaches up to meet it at the horizon.
I went in early last night, hoping to store up on sound sleep, but my night was punctuated by bad dreams. I saw the Spirit cat, running hard toward me, its bloodstained claws tearing the grass, leaving a bright red trail. It flew at me, its curved teeth coming so close I felt the cat’s breath, as hot as flame, against my throat. Other times my dreams were visited by Pek, his body inverted, his hands clutching wildly but unable to reach me, his face hidden by his floating hair.
Morning couldn’t come soon enough.
“I’m not taking that kayak, Mother.” My personal boat is too small and volatile for the open sea, and our clan has only one other large kayak. They’ll need it to fish while I’m gone.
“It won’t be an easy trip overland.”
We both jump at the sound of my father’s voice. Neither of us had heard him approach—we’d thought we were completely alone. My mother’s head whips around at his words.
“What are you doing sneaking up like that?”
“But it won’t be as difficult as it might have been before we learned where the Olen clan camp,” my father says, without acknowledging my mother’s question. He hasn’t come as close as I’d thought—he stands just a few paces beyond the door of our hut—but even speaking low, his voice carries. At this hour, the air of the meeting place is still and silent. “We know it’s a day’s walk from here—”
“A day from first light to last,” my mother interjects, “which in summer is a very long day. He will tire—”
“The sky is clear,” my father continues. “You shouldn’t encounter any storms.” He hesitates, knowing that he will anger his wife if he lets me reject the kayak, but also knowing how much the clan may depend on that kayak for food with both Pek and me gone. Since the kill we had with your family, we’ve seen no sign of the rest of the mammoth herd.
“Let him go, and let him leave us the kayak. The Divine will watch over him as she makes her slow trek across the summer sky, helping him arrive before last light. When he gets to Chev’s clan, he can return with Pek in the kayak he left in.”
There is an extended silence, and I know that my mother and father are thinking of Pek and hoping that I find him well when I arrive in your camp. I never told them what happened on that first seal hunt. It doesn’t matter. They both know how dangerous the sea can be.
We all know.
When I leave, loaded down with weapons to the same extent that Pek was loaded down with gifts, my brothers and my parents each give me a kiss on the cheek. We did not do this with Pek, and I know that we all wish we had.
In my pack I carry provisions for several days, since I know the general direction and the approximate distance, but there’s no way to be certain I won’t become lost. If I don’t find your camp within two days, I’ll have no choice but to turn around and come back.
I leave with an assortment of dried foods—berries and roots and some dried meat, all chosen for their lightness. Among the dried rations, I also carry my pouch of honey. A small amount will give me the strength to keep going when I have eaten all my allotted food for the day. I also carry a healing salve of oils and medicinal plants mixed by Urar and stored in a bull kelp bulb. If I become injured, the oils will soothe the pain and the herbs will return strength to the wound.
Besides my fire starter, I carry a bit of dry kindling in case I walk into bad weather and everything gets soaked. Still, there are no dark clouds, and if I’m fortunate enough to cover the distance and find your camp’s fires by nightfall, I won’t need to make one of my own. This is the prayer I chant to the Divine, creating a rhythm for my steps as I start on my journey.
I carry my spear in my hand, but slung by a strap across my back I carry another, just in case the first gets lost or broken. I also packed a trio of darts I carved from a shinbone of the mammoth killed on the hunt with your family. I began working the bone when Pek left, and I packed them in hopes the Spirit of that mammoth might protect me. To throw the darts, I brought my atlatl. Lastly, I carry a lightweight flint ax with a wolf-bone handle that I’ve learned to throw with fairly good accuracy. Only Pek throws better, something he never tired of showing off. I think of all the times I wished he would stop, and how happy I’ll be the next time he shows up one of my throws.
In my belt I carry my favorite knife, the same one that cut the ropes that held Pek underwater. This knife knows my secrets, and just having it at my waist makes me feel less alone.
As the sun rises slowly and reluctantly into the sky, I hike through rolling waves of purple and white flowers that cover huge swaths of the meadow. By the time I climb into the eastern mountains, following the pass that the bison took until they ceased to return, thirst burns in my throat. Still, even in the promising cool shadows of the rocky slopes, I won’t let myself take a drink. I force myself to wait until I hear the music of running water before I slide my waterskin from my shoulder. Perhaps I’m being overly cautious—I feel fairly certain that I’ll always find water in the hills—but this route is new to me. I’ve never traveled to the other side of these mountains, and though I’ve heard stories, I don’t know what conditions I will find.