Buffalo Medicine (12 page)
Authors: Don Coldsmith
The snow continued
through the night and all of the next day. Owl remained in his shelter, and carefully fed his fire at a slow but steady rate. He ate frugally from his store of food, slept often, and occasionally looked out to observe any changes. There were none. The snow fell softly and relentlessly, drifting slightly along the ledge. Owl ate snow as an alternative to water, but by dark on the second night in his cave he began to worry a little.
through the night and all of the next day. Owl remained in his shelter, and carefully fed his fire at a slow but steady rate. He ate frugally from his store of food, slept often, and occasionally looked out to observe any changes. There were none. The snow fell softly and relentlessly, drifting slightly along the ledge. Owl ate snow as an alternative to water, but by dark on the second night in his cave he began to worry a little.
Not about water. As long as there was snow he could use that. His worry was that he would be trapped on the ledge without access to game and with his supplies dwindling. Perhaps he should move to the valley floor and try to improvise some sort of shelter.
Of course not, he reassured himself. The Old Ones had established their village here because of its practicality. They would have been unable to maintain a village of this size if it were not possible to exist here over many winters.
Still uneasy, he offered another fragment of meat to his fire to maintain the good will of the Old Ones.
Still uneasy, he offered another fragment of meat to his fire to maintain the good will of the Old Ones.
Owl understood his dilemma quite well. He was unfamiliar with the weather that might be expected here in the mountains. His people were used to wintering along a sheltered river course in the rolling plains. He had no idea how cold the nights, or how deep the snow, in this valley. Perhaps the entire valley floor would be too deep in snow for him to move about and hunt. But no, the Old Ones had lived here. Well, no matter now. He was here, and could not travel with winter having arrived.
He was anxious for the snowfall to cease. When he awoke at the following dawn Owl realized that the sky was clear, and he rose quickly to explore the area. He wrapped himself in his rabbit cape and tied it at the waist. The spear and one throwing stick would be his weapons.
The trail leading down the cliff proved not too bad. In most areas the wind had prevented obstruction of the path. One or two drifts on the downwind side of large boulders were easily traversed. The snow was dry and powdery, and Owl found that he could shuffle through it without difficulty.
He kept a watchful eye for rabbits. Though he was unfamiliar with the habits of these mountain long-ears in winter, he knew that in his own prairie country, this would be an ideal morning to hunt.
The first rabbit eluded him entirely, bounding away at his feet with a startling leap. He must watch more closely.
Owl spotted the next rabbit ahead of him near the path. A clump of dry grass formed an arching protection, and hunched comfortably beneath the concealing stems sat a fluffy long-ear. The protective coloration was so complete that Owl would have entirely overlooked the hiding animal except for the bright, shining eye. He began his stalk.
It was important, he reminded himself, not to look
directly into the animal's eye. That would enable the rabbit to read his thoughts. He casually continued his unaltered pace, pretending not to see his crouching prey. Then, at the right moment, without even breaking stride, Owl struck with the throwing stick. Not a throw, just a quick backhand blow, and the rabbit lay kicking in the snow. Good. This would enable him to conserve his dried provisions.
directly into the animal's eye. That would enable the rabbit to read his thoughts. He casually continued his unaltered pace, pretending not to see his crouching prey. Then, at the right moment, without even breaking stride, Owl struck with the throwing stick. Not a throw, just a quick backhand blow, and the rabbit lay kicking in the snow. Good. This would enable him to conserve his dried provisions.
Yet another rabbit was added to his food supply in the same manner before he climbed the bluff again. The most important find of the day, however, was merely an observation.
He saw the deer herd at a distance, and noticed again how the aspens around him were marked by their chewing. The tree beside him bore black scars on the smooth white bark. He reached up and touched the highest of these marks, just above his head. Suddenly the significance sank home. He looked quickly around at other trees. He could see no marks of the animals' feeding activity that were any higher than his reach.
This gave him invaluable information. If the snow in the valley became deep, the deer would be unable to move about to any extent. They would stay in one area, and their combined trampling would pack snow firmly beneath their feet. Then, they would reach upward to chew the bark during the hardest part of the winter. And, he reasoned, if snow depth were great, they would be standing on the deeply packed substance. Then the scars on the bark would be higher than those he now observed. The marks would be visible for several years. His conclusion was very gratifying. There had been no great depth of snow in this valley for at least five or six seasons.
Owl was elated as he climbed back to his cave, carrying firewood, and with his two rabbits swinging by the hind legs. He was pleased no less by his discovery than by his use of observation and reason. White Buffalo would be
proud of his pupil. He must remember to tell the medicine man when he rejoined the People.
proud of his pupil. He must remember to tell the medicine man when he rejoined the People.
With added confidence, Owl settled in for the winter. Each day brought, in its own way, an improvement in his condition. He improved his weapons and his garments. True, they would be objects for amusement when he rejoined his tribe, but for now they were more than adequate.
He was able to kill a fat yearling buck with his spear. By means of covering himself with his rabbit cape over his head, he found that he could move among the deer with little trouble. The technique, after all, was not much different than working among buffalo with a cape made of a calf's skin. The deer seemed merely to regard him as a strange new sort of animal, more curious than dangerous.
The food and skin of the young buck were put to good use. Owl was already planning his journey back to the People. It would begin as soon as the weather would permit. Much of the meat was dried and stored for traveling. Once he started, Owl did not want to be encumbered by stopping to hunt.
The Moon of Long Nights passed, and the Moon of Snows. At least, Owl believed them to be. He could gauge somewhat by the daily journey of Sun Boy with his torch, swinging in a low curve across the southern sky. Owl would sit at the mouth of his cave and sight across a distant mountain top, estimating the height of Sun Boy's arc at the zenith. Finally, after many days, it appeared Sun Boy was rising higher. That would signal the end of Long Nights' Moon, he believed. In a land so different from his own, it was difficult to be sure. The prediction of the deer proved accurate, and at no time were there heavy enough snows to prevent his moving about for more than a day or two.
He contrived a small waterbag from the skin of a porcupine, with hair and quills removed, and thereafter could make less frequent trips to the stream. In addition, he accidentally discovered, on a morning of melting snow, a
depression in the rock near his cave. Melted snow was trickling into the basin in a steady stream. With surprise he realized that this collecting pool was intentional. The Old Ones had scraped grooves in the soft rock to channel precious drinking water into the basin for use. Thereafter, his trips to the stream were even fewer.
depression in the rock near his cave. Melted snow was trickling into the basin in a steady stream. With surprise he realized that this collecting pool was intentional. The Old Ones had scraped grooves in the soft rock to channel precious drinking water into the basin for use. Thereafter, his trips to the stream were even fewer.
The Moon of Hunger followed. Owl had wondered, as a child, at the strange name for this moon. The name, he finally came to understand, had been given before the People had the advantage of the elk-dog with which to hunt buffalo. Winter had been a terrible time, a time of starvation.
Just now, however, the foremost thing in his mind about the Hunger Moon was not the Hunger Moon itself, but that which followed. Next in the order of things was the Moon of Awakening. Then the buds would begin to swell and Sun Boy would drive Cold Maker back into the mountains.
Then, Owl told himself, he could start the long journey back to his people.
It was in
the moon that Owl believed to be the Moon of Awakening that he prepared to depart. Buds were swelling, and on the sheltered slopes where Sun Boy's torch could reach most of the day, green sprigs of grass were showing.
the moon that Owl believed to be the Moon of Awakening that he prepared to depart. Buds were swelling, and on the sheltered slopes where Sun Boy's torch could reach most of the day, green sprigs of grass were showing.
He had become impatient lately, each succeeding thaw giving him hope that the season was changing. Now, with all signs pointing the way, he was eager to continue his journey home.
Owl had wintered well. Long hours and days he had spent in working on and improving his few possessions. He had killed a deer during the second big snow, by standing immobile beside one of the deer paths in the woods. His spear had functioned well. He had abandoned the idea of trying to construct a bow. The available trees were not familiar to him, and he was unsure of which
wood to try. Anyway, he did not appear to need a bow. His present weapons were doing nicely for his needs.
wood to try. Anyway, he did not appear to need a bow. His present weapons were doing nicely for his needs.
Owl glanced for the last time around the shelf that had been his home during the moons of the winter, and shouldered his pack. He had carefully extinguished his fire after making a final sacrifice of meat to the Old Ones.
Rapidly he retraced his trail of moons before, and crawled through the cleft in the rock beside the picture stone. For no good reason, he replaced brush and debris, concealing the entrance to the Valley of the Old Ones. He had grown very close in spirit to these people during the long winter. Somehow, it pleased him to think of their valley as he had found it, undisturbed, with their spirits at rest.
Turning, Owl estimated his direction of travel, and sighting on a tall peak in the distance, began a ground-covering stride. Now, he realized, was the most important time for good judgment. It would be easy for him to become so engrossed in trying to cover distance that he would forget the dangers. His longing for the open prairie and its far horizons was so strong that he found himself wanting to push on. He must remind himself continually to rest, eat, and sleep properly.
In addition, he must increasingly be on the lookout for enemies. He had moved well to the north of the Hairfaces' colony. He felt that he was also out of the country of the Mud Lodge people, but he wasn't sure. He could perhaps tell more when he reached open country.
That, of course, would bring new dangers. He must cross the territory of the Head Splitters. Although that phase might be the most dangerous of all, Owl faced it with the most confidence. The Head Splitters had customs more like his own. He understood their ways and could cope with them better than with those of the strange tribes he had met. They were, after all, buffalo people.
Additionally, if he could locate a band of Head Splitters, he might be able to steal a horse and travel better.
Additionally, if he could locate a band of Head Splitters, he might be able to steal a horse and travel better.
Owl traveled for as many days as one has fingers. Then, one morning, he topped a ridge and could see, through a pass in the mountains ahead, the plains spread before him. The grassland stretched on and on until the blue of distance blended with the blue of sky. The young man felt that he could see his homeland, and the thrill of victory kept him traveling late that night, against his better judgment.
It was still three more days before he actually left the broken foothills behind and traveled out onto the plains. It would be many days more before he found the rich deep-grass country of his people. Meanwhile, travel was faster. He must keep a close eye out for the smoke of the Head Splitters' campfires. Especially, he thought, at dawn and dusk, when the women are cooking. With this in mind, Owl spent a few minutes in a ritualistic search of the horizon twice each day. Still he had seen no sign of human life.
Almost daily, he saw bands of antelope, who watched him curiously as he passed. There were occasional small herds of buffalo. Always a few stragglers wintered in the sheltered gullies of the plains. The great herds had not yet moved from their wintering-places in the south. Owl spoke to the buffalo as he passed. The great shaggy beasts merely stood and nodded massive heads at him. Still, he began to feel that he was approaching home. He had not seen a buffalo since leaving the captivity of the Head Splitters two winters before. Now, they seemed like old friends as he spoke to them in passing.
This reminded him that it seemed like endless time since he had heard a human voice. Not since the fateful day of the escape, with the smoke-log booming and bleeding prisoners screaming. He shook his head at the - unreality
of the memory, and jogged on at a steady, ground-eating pace.
of the memory, and jogged on at a steady, ground-eating pace.
Then came the morning when he spied smoke on the horizon. It was merely a smudge at the rim of the world, far to the northeast. He studied the gray blur for a long time, and finally decided to travel straight toward it. Best to know exactly where he stood, he convinced himself. He must find if this band were really the enemy. After all, this could be a band of his own tribe, the People. The Red Rocks band sometimes came this far west, he thought.
With this sort of reasoning, Owl may have been deceiving himself a little. He was so starved for human contact that the existence of a camp, of whatever tribe, drew him like a moth to the flame. Even an enemy band were human beings.
This did not prevent caution. He estimated the camp to be more than a day's travel away, so he leisurely moved in that direction, constantly watching for any stray hunters. His caution was rewarded late that afternoon, as he spotted the stripped carcass of a buffalo at a little distance. He moved in that direction.
There was little left but the skeleton, but he could read the story easily. The skin was gone, so the animal had been butchered, not eaten by wolves and smaller predators. There were numerous hoofprints of horses, and the grass had been trampled and disturbed, verifying the presence of people.
He almost overlooked the most important sign. Protruding from under a well-cleaned shoulder blade was an arrow shaft. Owl seized it eagerly and examined its construction. The shaft had broken a hand's span in front of the feathers. Some hunter would be disappointed to lose such a well-made shaft, he knew. The stone tip was missing. It could be used again. His attention turned again to the feathering of the arrow. There were subtle differences
apparent here. Even allowing for individual variation in skill and in preference, this arrow was not exactly like those of the People.
apparent here. Even allowing for individual variation in skill and in preference, this arrow was not exactly like those of the People.
In all probability, then, the camp, less than a day's journey ahead of him, was that of a band of Head Splitters.
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