Wolf road, p.6
Wolf Road, page 6
‘He’s not exactly stealthy, is he?’ laughed Wren. Tuuli was so pleased to see her cousin smiling. It made her feel light and warm inside.
Lupa almost bounded after Kuba, but then pulled back – she tended to stay close to her new pack-mother. Tuuli knelt down and scratched her behind the ears.
‘You know you can’t keep her for ever,’ said Wren. ‘She’ll only grow big and eat you.’
‘You’d never eat me, would you, Lupa?’ said Tuuli, holding Lupa’s snout and staring into her amber eyes. ‘You love me, don’t you?’
The wolf pup licked her on the nose. Wren laughed, and Tuuli felt even lighter. But then she remembered they were meant to be counting.
‘Have you been counting? It’s a been a while! It must be at least “seventeen” by now,’ she exclaimed.
They set off down the hillside, not really bothering to pause to gather leaves or roots now – they’d got enough already. They walked cautiously, as though stalking prey. This was a game, but they were still taking it seriously.
‘Shh,’ said Wren suddenly, in low tones. ‘I heard something.’
They both crouched low, listening hard. Lupa seemed to understand and stood still and quiet, too. There was a snap somewhere in the woods ahead of them.
‘There!’ whispered Tuuli. ‘Did you hear it? He’s still on the move. Let’s catch him.’
They crept through the woods, towards the sound. But then there was a slight rustle from somewhere to their right. They glanced at each other and turned to follow this new signal.
They were both expecting to be surprised by Kuba jumping on them out of a tree or suddenly springing into view. Instead, somewhere up among the larches on a ridge not far above them, they saw something move. And it wasn’t a deer or a chamois. It was a human. A tall human. Taller than Kuba, at least. It was so quick – a fleeting glimpse of a person, a shadow among the trees. Lupa was standing completely still, head down, hackles raised. Tuuli’s blood froze.
‘Aigh!’ she cried in alarm.
‘There’s someone else here. Where the hell is Kuba?’
She looked at Wren with wide eyes.
‘We’ve got to find him,’ Wren hissed. ‘And quickly.’
They started backtracking, running up the hill they’d just descended, breath coming quick and fast. Tuuli’s heart was thumping with exertion but also fear. They’d given up trying to move silently – speed was essential now. And Wren needed to find her brother.
‘KUBA!’ she yelled, as they reached the crest of the hill. ‘KUBAAAA!’ There was more than a hint of panic in her voice.
Then there was a crash and Kuba fell out of a tree right beside them. He hadn’t even gone very far – he’d just shinned up one of the nearest trees when they started the game. They both hugged him. He seemed perplexed.
‘Does this mean I’ve won?’ he asked.
‘Shh,’ hushed Wren, urgently. ‘There’s someone else here. We saw them. We need to get back to the camp, quickly.’
Kuba looked puzzled, as if he thought that this was part of the game, too, then he saw the look in his sister’s eyes. Tuuli was sure she looked equally fearful.
They headed off quickly, retracing their steps to the riverside camp, listening for any sound of pursuit. The sun was low now, almost gone for the day. Wren ran along with Kuba’s hand firmly gripped in hers, dragging him after her. He stumbled on tree roots and she pulled him up and kept going. We must make it back before dusk. Lupa scrambled through the trees and over rocks and just managed to keep up with them all. Somehow the shadowy threat seemed to grow larger in Tuuli’s mind as the sky darkened.
They made it. They ran straight up to the circle of family around the campfire, gasping for breath. Among their people, it was unusual to make a fuss over anyone leaving or arriving at camp – in fact, to do so was considered very unlucky. But the three arrived with such fear and panic clinging to them that everyone around the campfire leaped to their feet.
‘What’s wrong?’ said Jutsa. ‘What’s happened?’
Tuuli stood, gasping for breath, hands on her knees.
‘We saw someone,’ panted Wren. Starra saw the terror in their eyes, and rushed in to hug Wren and Kuba.
‘Not one of ours?’ queried Remi.
Tuuli shook her head.
‘No, I don’t think so.’
‘Not on this side of the river,’ agreed Jutsa.
‘Who, then?’ asked Aski, anxiously, hugging Nika in her arms.
‘We couldn’t see clearly,’ said Wren. ‘But it was definitely a person. A man, we think.’
‘Definitely human,’ Tuuli confirmed.
Remi hugged her.
‘We haven’t seen any signs of another tribe close by, on this side,’ said Jutsa. ‘No smoke skeins, no tracks. And this person, they didn’t call out?’
That would be the usual thing – if another tribesperson was hunting in the area and was seen. A reassuring call to say, ‘I’m not a threat.’
‘No,’ said Wren. ‘But I’m sure they saw us.’
Numil and Vinta were staring wide-eyed at this exchange. Vinta was sniffing.
‘Come here,’ said Garan, gathering them both up, and settling by the fire. Maatu squeezed Aski’s hand, and the two of them sat down together.
‘We need to be careful,’ said Jutsa, once they were all settled around the fire. ‘If there is a lone wolf out there, he could be dangerous to us.’
Later that evening, when Kuba and the other children had gone to bed, Tuuli sat next to Wren, by the fire.
‘I think I’m too scared to sleep tonight,’ she murmured.
Wren gave her cousin a hug.
‘We don’t know for sure who he is,’ she said. ‘He could just have been someone on a hunting trip, far from his own tribe, not necessarily an outcast.’
Sometimes individuals from other tribes would show up at a camp, often bearing gifts from the hunt to show their good intentions. Usually they would disappear again, but occasionally they came to stay, settling in to a new life and marrying into their adopted tribe. That was how Leon and Kussa had joined their number. The brothers had arrived together: Leon as a partner for Jutsa’s younger sister, Aski, whom he’d stalked like a deer at Spring Camp the year before he joined their talo. Kussa was a mate for Jutsa’s cousin, Garan. Further back, long before Tuuli’s spirit flew into the world, Remi had arrived into their tribe to marry Jutsa. His cousin, Maatu, had joined them two years later, even though there was no woman for him at that time. And then, just three years ago, he’d fallen for Skire, stealing her away from another tribe. That had caused a lot of gossip. Women didn’t tend to leave their flocks; men flew to them. Usually from well-known tribes with deep ancestral connections to their own.
Sometimes, though, there would be outcasts: men who would wander far before finding themselves a new home. Tuuli knew all the stories. Some of these ‘lone wolves’ were strange and bad, which was why they got thrown out into the wild in the first place. Sometimes they were good men who ended up on the wrong side of an argument. But those men could end up mad and bad too, fending for themselves in the taiga and tundra, driven savage by loneliness, if they managed to survive on their own at all. And so the tribe feared these human wolves more than actual wolves. There was nothing in nature as barbaric and brutal as a feral human.
Tuuli was sure that the shadowy figure they’d spotted had been a man, or at least an older boy. And even though the sighting had happened over the hill, the tribe took no chances that evening. Not knowing who he was, they had to take the potential threat seriously. Remi, Starra and Maatu kept the campfire burning all night, taking it in turns to watch and listen for a human somewhere in the dark woodland stretching along the valley. Tuuli curled up next to Jutsa and Ketki in their tent, with Lupa at her other side. She pulled the fox fur-edged reindeer coverlet over her head and tried to let go of the day and sleep. The shadowy figure in the woods was there again as she shut her eyes. She tried to banish him, but he wouldn’t go away. He continued to stalk her dreams as she sank at last into a fitful slumber.
THE WATCHER IN THE WOODS
The little tribe stuck together like resin glue the next day. They packed up all their gear early and headed off. Tuuli wore her spear and two darts slung over her shoulder, wanting to keep some weapons easily to hand as though she was going on a hunting trip. They were still pulling pulks, but it was getting harder and harder to drag them along. The thaw had advanced, leaving snow bones lying in shaded furrows where the sunlight touched the valley through most of the day, though drifts persisted on the north-facing, wooded slopes. There was plenty of snow on top of the cliffs and higher hillsides, but the tribe preferred to stay low, out of the woods and next to the river.
There was no need for anyone to head off on hunting expeditions – they had plenty of salmon from the previous day’s fishing to keep them going, and fresh leaves to go with the last of the pickled plants from their winter supplies. And with that lone wolf ranging somewhere in the hills, it was safest to stay together and keep moving. With two good, long days of travelling, they’d be at Spring Camp – with the safety in numbers that promised. They expected to be joining at least two other tribes there: Skire’s people, the Snow Geese, and Leon and Kussa’s people, the Fulmars. And Tuuli was desperately hoping that those three, and Poz, would then re-join the Swans and their talo would be whole again.
They set up a small, compact camp that night. Jutsa went to bed early with Ketki. Garan turned in around the same time, with Vinta and Numil. The rest gathered around the fire. Tuuli and Wren sat close together, chatting in hushed tones while roasting pieces of salmon on a long stick. Lupa was nestled up against Tuuli’s leg, but not asleep. She watched the salmon skewers intently, and Tuuli fed her small morsels.
‘Do you think he’s out there, watching us?’ Tuuli asked, shivering – not with the cold, but just at the thought.
Wren looked up at the dark ridge.
‘Maybe,’ she replied quietly.
‘I wonder how long he’s been watching us. I mean, he could have been tracking us ever since we left Winter Camp, couldn’t he… waiting for his moment?’
It was Wren’s turn to shiver. ‘There’s no reason to think he’s been following us. We’ve only glimpsed him once. We don’t actually know what his intentions are. He might mean us no harm at all. We might even have scared him off. He could be far away – over the hills, up in the southern mountains – by now.’ She gestured at the dark horizon.
‘But you don’t believe that, do you,’ said Tuuli, narrowing her eyes. It was more of a statement than a question.
‘I don’t know what to believe,’ replied Wren. ‘But we’ve seen absolutely nothing of him since yesterday afternoon in the woods. So maybe he has just gone away.’
Tuuli felt sure that he hadn’t. She was fairly certain that the boy, whoever he was, was still out there, lurking in the taiga. Biding his time and waiting for a chance to strike.
‘What are you girls whispering about?’ Aski enquired, leaning towards them. She’d just finished feeding Nika, and the baby was now soundly asleep in her lap, completely wrapped up in soft snow-hare furs.
‘The lone wolf,’ said Wren. ‘What else?’
‘I don’t think we need to worry about him,’ advised Aski. ‘I know he scared you, but we don’t know if he’s really any threat. And if we stick together, we’re strong. Too strong for a lone wolf to consider attacking. And look how far we’ve come today. Another two days of good travelling and we’ll be at Spring Camp. It’s not far, now.’
‘Will you do a spirit journey there?’ asked Tuuli.
Aski’s last flight into the realm of spirits had been early last summer, when they were down with the reindeer herd on the salt marsh near the coast, before her belly had begun to swell with Nika. She’d waited until the time of the full moon, then dedicated a whole day to collecting herbs and small marsh-mushrooms. As the sun set that evening, she brewed her tea and wrapped herself in her shaman cloak. Then she set off on her journey. In the morning, she told them all what she’d experienced. She’d foreseen Tuuli’s grandmama and Maluv leaving them. She had flown with a wind-hawk, up, up into the sky, before it disappeared from sight in the blueness; she’d swum in the cold river with a beaver. These were the animal spirits of Tuuli’s grandmama – named after the kestrel like her granddaughter – and Maluv – tree-feller and lodge-dweller. But none of them had known how soon those spirits would leave the talo.
‘I’ll make you a new amulet, ready for your next journey,’ said Tuuli. ‘What would you like?’
Aski closed her eyes and sighed. ‘Could you carve me a lion?’ she asked, quietly.
Wren tilted her head and glanced over at Aski. ‘He’ll be there at Spring Camp,’ she said, meaning Leon. ‘He’ll come back to you.’
‘I don’t know,’ said Aski. ‘I think he might have gone for good this time. In some way I think he never really felt settled here with us.’ She sighed deeply. ‘I don’t think it’s me. He and Kussa have always struggled with Remi.’
‘Do you still love him?’ asked Wren.
‘Of course I do,’ said Aski. ‘But I think I’ve known for a while that he wouldn’t always be here, with me, with us.’
‘You could go after him?’ suggested Wren.
‘I could, but I don’t know if it would ever work out. We’ll see. He might be there tomorrow, when we reach the camp.’
This conversation made Tuuli feel uncomfortable. She liked it when people were happy and in love, when joy sparkled off them. She didn’t like it when relationships fell apart. It unsettled her. It lodged in her, like a dull ache. Aski seemed so calm, but there was a resigned core of sadness in her.
‘I’ll carve you a lion, then,’ said Tuuli, breaking the silence. ‘I have a little piece of Poz’s tusk still – it’ll be perfect.’
They all fell quiet for a while. Tuuli finished off her roast salmon, licking her fingers and feeding the last scraps to Lupa. Then she rearranged herself into a cross-legged position and pulled her little wolf onto her lap, paws up in the air. Lupa wriggled a bit, then submitted to a belly rub.
On the opposite side of the fire, Remi was talking to Maatu and working on his fish-killing baton. He’d drilled the hole through the end of it, for the cord. Now he was scratching out a design on it with a stone awl. Starra and Kuba were still cooking themselves pieces of salmon.
They all stayed up a bit longer, then eventually Tuuli, Wren, Kuba and Aski – with Nika still bundled up, asleep – crawled into their tents. A crisp frost had iced the ground, but this was the warmest night yet. Remi, Maatu and Starra stayed up to take turns watching over the little camp. The moon rose higher in the sky, lighting up the valley. The rushing river sparkled in the moonshine, and in its cold embrace, more and more salmon joined the throng, continuing their upstream journey to start the cycle of life over again.
Up among the larches on the southern hills, another pair of eyes was looking down at the fire and the small circle of tents in the valley. Watching and waiting.
THE RIVER’S PULL
They were up early, packing again. People grabbed breakfast on the go as they tied their things onto pulks for the last time. Those sleds would get them as far as Spring Camp, then they’d abandon them, to be picked up and repaired for the trek back up the valley in late leaf-fall, when the snow would have returned.
Tuuli couldn’t wait to be rid of her pulk. It was holding her back now – grinding over stones, snagging on the bare roots and scrub emerging from the snow. And to add to the annoyance, her feet were soon cold and wet. Wren had had the foresight that morning to swap her reindeer-fur boots for hide shoes, stuffed with moss and lichen for insulation and comfort. Her feet were warm and dry, despite the squelching, silty mud that had been churned up by the bison and reindeer. Tuuli’s fur boots, on the other hand, were dirty and bedraggled on the outside, and damp inside. Her toes seemed to feel colder now than they had been in the snows of winter. She was not enjoying the journey today.
Her pulk caught on a large stone that she’d completely missed as she trudged along. She groaned loudly and fell down on top of the pulk.
‘Hern’s HORNS! I am sick to death of this sled!’ she exclaimed to no one in particular.
Her uncle Maatu was just behind her. He stepped alongside her pulk and put his hand on her shoulder. ‘Come on, little wind-hawk,’ he said gently. ‘If we really push on today, we’ll make it to Spring Camp by nightfall, and then we can all have a well-earned rest.’ Then he frowned at her a little. ‘You’re usually stronger than this,’ he added.
Lupa bounded up and jumped at Tuuli with great, muddy paws.
‘See, she thinks you can do it,’ said Maatu.
Tuuli was annoyed. ‘I’m not a kid,’ she said brusquely, but she stood up.
Maatu shook his head and moved on, but not before he’d lifted Tuuli’s sled clear of the obstructing rock.
Tuuli’s pause had left her right at the back. Jutsa was way out in front – and occasionally glanced back to make sure she could see all of her tribe. Immediately behind her, Remi was carrying Ketki, slung up on his back, and pulling a pulk with most of the family’s things piled high on top. Next in line were Starra and Aski, who was carrying Nika as well as pulling a sled, and then Wren, Kuba and Numil, each with their own pulks. Behind them came Maatu, who had now hoisted little Vinta up on his shoulders, and Garan.
Tuuli was struggling to keep up. She’d slept badly again, worrying about Aski and Leon, and about the lone wolf, and felt heavy with tiredness. Jutsa was setting a brisk pace – keen to get out from this narrow section of the valley and reach Spring Camp, with its broad, flat plain next to the river, before sundown. The hills really were starting to close in around them at this pinch point. It would be an excellent place to ambush reindeer, thought Tuuli. And then she turned to look at the river and the cliffs, and suddenly remembered – a dim, distant memory – a herd of reindeer in just this spot, crashing through, surging across the river… as hunters hurled long spears and launched darts into the throng. It was such a blurred memory but Tuuli was sure that it wasn’t just a dream. It seemed far too real – but its haziness meant she must have been very small, perhaps just three or four winters old.
