Children of the Dawnland (North America's Forgotten Past Series) (17 page)

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Authors: Kathleen O'Neal Gear,W. Michael Gear

BOOK: Children of the Dawnland (North America's Forgotten Past Series)
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T
WIG AND GREY HAWK watched Father Sun’s crimson face rise over the Ice Giants. The ice and snow blazed, turning from pink to a brilliant orange as the ball of the sun slipped above the horizon. They had walked a long way during the night. Here, at this place, hundreds of black caves honeycombed the ice.
Greyhawk breathed, “Elder Halfmoon says that these caves twist back into the ice forever. He once tried to follow out the tunnels to find Cobia, but he got lost over and over again. Many of the tunnels connect far back in the ice, but there are lots of dead ends.”
“He never found Cobia?” Twig asked.
Greyhawk shook his head.
Twig said, “No wonder he didn’t want to take me. His eyes are even worse today. He was probably afraid of getting lost and never being able to find his way out again.”
Greyhawk looked around. “Do you remember Elder Halfmoon telling Puffer that she would have to pass Oakbeam Village to find Hoarfrost Canyon?”
“Yes. But I don’t know how to get there. Do you?”
Greyhawk studied the land. “Maybe.”
Twig followed his gaze. To the west, the Ice Giants rose like shining white cliffs. They’d been squealing and groaning even more than usual. It was as though they knew something she didn’t, and were trying to warn her.
“We should try to find Oakbeam Village first,” she said.
Greyhawk frowned; then he pointed with his atlatl. “Oakbeam Village is that way. I think. But I’m telling you, we should
not
go there! We should go back and find our families first. If we just had my father here, and your grandfather, we could find her cave and everything would be all right!”
With a confidence she didn’t feel, Twig pulled her shoulders back and said, “I’m older than you, Greyhawk. I know what’s best for us. I promise I’m not leading you to your death.”
A hard swallow went down Greyhawk’s throat. “Why did you say that? Did you dream my death? Or … our deaths?”
“Do you think I’d be leading us out here if I thought we were both going to die?”
Greyhawk glowered at her as though he feared she might … but when she started walking, he followed her down to the trail that skirted the ice caves.
Silver veils of fog blew in off the lake. They clutched at her with cold, transparent fingers.
Twig filled her lungs with the scents of water and damp earth, and when she exhaled, her breath frosted in the morning air. She saw nothing now, except fog. But the Stone Wolf resting over her heart had grown warm and heavy. Its weight seemed to be pulling her forward.
She stopped and stared down at the Wolf.
Greyhawk said, “What are you staring at?”
“The Wolf. It’s getting heavier and heavier. I swear it feels like a lump of granite ten times this size.” She pulled the Wolf from her shirt. “Feel this.”
Greyhawk reached out and grabbed the Wolf by the thong. The Wolf swung just beneath his fingers. “It
is
heavy! Why?”
“I … I think it knows how to find Cobia.”
He dropped the Wolf and backed away, but his eyes remained glued to the shining obsidian Wolf. “What makes you think that?”
“The weight of the stone is tugging at my neck, pulling me along.”
“Pulling you?”
“Yes, pulling me west.”
Greyhawk looked to the west, toward the massive glacier cliffs that glittered as though sprinkled with stardust. “Toward Oakbeam Village?”
“I think so.” She rubbed the back of her neck where it hurt. The Wolf had grown so heavy, the thong was cutting into her skin.
Greyhawk said, “Do you want me to carry it for a while?”
“No, I think that right now I need to. But thanks for offering. If it gets too heavy, I’ll let you.”
Whispering, he asked, “Has it talked to you?”
She put her hand over the Wolf. It warmed her cold fingers. “No, it’s been very quiet. I don’t think it needs to tell me where we’re going. It’s showing me the path.”
He glanced at the Stone Wolf again. “Then you should lead.”
Twig nodded and led the way out into a field of eerie ice pillars ten times the height of a man and half as wide. There were hundreds of them. As they moved between them, following the streams of water that cut twisting trails around the pillars, she felt like she was walking through a forest of tree trunks made of solid ice. Carved by the wind and water, some of the pillars seemed to have sculpted faces. The tallest pillar to her right was speckled with gravel and coated with windblown dirt. When Twig looked at the top, she swore she saw a straggly mop of hair and a man’s twisted face, his mouth open in a hideous cry.
She shuddered. “I don’t like this place, Greyhawk. Let’s hurry and get through it.”
Greyhawk was looking around, as though he felt it
too—that strange sensation that they were being watched by something not quite human. “I’m hurrying,” he said.
They weaved through the forest of pillars, moving so fast that when they entered the narrow ice canyon, barely two body-lengths wide, they almost stumbled over the first human skeleton.
“Twig!” Greyhawk shouted as he stopped dead in his tracks.
She bumped into him, breathing hard.
The mangled bodies had long since been eaten. Only the bones remained, adorned with shreds of clothing that were scattered among the pillars, along with several discarded weapons.
Twig said, “Who are they?”
Greyhawk’s eyes focused instantly on an atlatl, and he ran to pick it up. Red, black, and white designs encircled the shaft. “I think this is War Chief Puffer’s atlatl.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” She was my clan, Smoky Shrew Clan. I used to watch her practice all day long, hoping that one day I could cast my spear as far as she could. I swear this is hers.”
Twig said, “Then … this is our war party?”
“It must be.”
Greyhawk wandered around for a while, collecting spears while he studied the tracks that marked the snow, both human and animal. Finally, he said, “A bear’s been at them. That’s why the bones are broken and scattered everywhere.”
Twig rubbed her icy arms. “This must be where they were ambushed.”
“Yes.” He stared at Twig, and fear lit his eyes. “If we’re smart, we’ll get out of here before anyone has a chance to ambush us.”
Twig grabbed a spear from the ground and sprinted up the trail. In the distance, she could see the lake again, shining blue, though the shore was still mounded with boulders and dirty ice.
When they rounded the next bend, they left the ice pillars behind, but a low ridge of boulders snaked along the ground to the right. They slowed down, feeling relieved to be out of the strange pillars.
Until they heard a snuffle.
Twig’s heart thundered when Grandfather Brown Bear lumbered from behind a boulder and onto the trail in front of them.
“Oh, no,” Twig gasped, and stumbled backward.
The bear saw them, and stood on his hind legs to sniff the breeze. The wind was blowing right up their backs, blowing their scents to him. He was three times their height, and when he dropped to all fours again, his massive head seemed too big to be real. A low growl came up the bear’s throat.
“He’s getting ready to charge,” Greyhawk said.
Twig felt faint.
Greyhawk grabbed her by the back of the coat and dragged her behind a boulder.
“Greyhawk,” she said in a voice that sounded too high-pitched to be her own voice. “What are we—”
“Quiet!” Greyhawk leaned very close to her ear and whispered, “Follow me. I—I can do this. Father taught me how to do this. Stay close to me!”
G
REYHAWK BENT LOW and sneaked around until he found a game trail that led up over the boulder ridge. “Twig, do what I do.”
Twig bent low—as he had—and followed him up the trail. When they reached the top, Greyhawk peered over the edge at the bear thirty hands below them. The huge predator had his nose to the ground. He was tracking them. It wouldn’t be long until he climbed right up the game trail and found them.
Greyhawk whispered to Twig, “We have to circle around to get upwind from the bear so he can’t smell us.”
“Do you think we can shake him?”
“I don’t know, but if he finds us, don’t run. He’s much faster than we are. He’ll have us down with our heads ripped off in a few heartbeats. Start looking for a place to hide. A place deep enough that he can’t reach in with his paw and pull us out.”
Twig spun around, searched the rocks, and pointed. “What about that rock shelter? Is it big enough for both of us?”
They ran to look. The shelter, made from three boulders that had toppled together, was deep, but narrow. They’d have to crawl in on their bellies and lie flat.
“You go in, Twig. I’m going to wait, to see if the bear is still following us.”
As Twig slid beneath the boulders and into the darkness, she said, “Come on, Greyhawk. It’s big enough for both of us.”
He answered, “Push as far back as you can, so I’ll have space.”
Greyhawk knelt and watched Twig slide to the very back of the shelter with her spear clutched in her fist. It was just as he’d suspected. The rock shelter wasn’t deep enough for two of them to hide out of the bear’s reach. If he crawled in there with her, the bear would just reach in, sink his claws into Greyhawk’s flesh, and pull him out.
He rose on shaky legs and wilted against the boulder, trying to force himself to think. He had to remember every lesson he’d ever learned. He glanced down at his atlatl and four spears. His aim was pretty good, but he
wasn’t very strong. He’d have to get dangerously close to the bear.
He scanned the ridgetop. He could hear his father’s voice echoing in his head:
How can you use the landscape to help you with your hunt?
A plan was forming somewhere inside him; he could see how the hunt might play out
if
he did everything right.
Greyhawk trotted to the opposite side of the trail and climbed up to the highest point in the boulders, twenty hands above the trail. The rock shelter where Twig hid was directly across from him.
Greyhawk nocked a spear in his atlatl and hunkered down in the rocks.
“Be Mountain Lion,” he whispered to himself. “Watch. Wait.”
You choose when to strike. Never let the enemy make the first move. But if he attacks before you’re ready, you must—
The bear came up the trail. His massive shoulders rolled as he walked, sniffing out their trail with ease. Though he was a brown bear, his hair was tipped with silver, giving it a shimmer.
The bear suddenly lifted its huge head and scented the wind; then his gaze went directly to the rock shelter where Twig hid.
The bear snuffled as he lumbered toward it.
Greyhawk’s throat went tight. He gripped his nocked atlatl hard, but his hand was shaking badly. Would he be able to cast accurately? He checked to make certain his other three spears were within reach.
The bear lowered his head and stared into the shelter. Twig didn’t make a sound. The bear growled, and a white cloud of breath drifted away on the cold wind.
Greyhawk could imagine Twig lying inside, staring right into the shining eyes of the bear.
The bear reached into the shelter with his paw to find Twig. When he couldn’t reach her, he got down on his belly and extended his arm as far as he could, trying to claw her out.
He must have come close. Twig let out a small cry of shock, which made the bear even more determined. He growled ferociously and scrambled around to stuff both paws and as much of his head as he could into the opening. In the process, he turned sideways.
Greyhawk rose on trembling legs and focused all of his attention on the place right behind the bear’s shoulder where the heart rested. He threw his spear with every ounce of strength in his panicked muscles. He cast so hard that the motion of the throw almost carried him over the edge of the boulders and sent him crashing down onto the trail beside the bear … but he caught himself just in time.
His spear sliced into the bear’s side and went deep inside its chest. The bear roared and scrambled out of the rock shelter; then he spun around and around, ripping at the spear in his side, trying to tear it out.
Terrified and elated, Greyhawk forgot his father’s most important lesson:
As soon as you cast, immediately nock another spear in your atlatl … .
He remembered only when the bear saw him, let out a blood-tingling roar, and charged.
Greyhawk reached for another spear, and fumbled to get it nocked as the bear leaped up the boulders as though they were mere stepping stones. He cast again and missed, and quickly nocked another spear. In less than five heartbeats, Grandfather Brown Bear was standing right in front of Greyhawk, with bloody breath blowing from his nostrils and blood dripping from his side.
“Don’t run, don’t run,
don’t run
,” Greyhawk hissed to himself as he drew back his atlatl and took aim.
“Grandfather,” he prayed, “please, please, let me kill you. Our families are dying. We have to find Cobia.”
Grandfather Brown Bear cocked his head, as though listening to Greyhawk’s voice … . Then he bounded forward with his huge jaws open to crush Greyhawk’s skull.
Greyhawk cast his spear and, by instinct, threw himself aside, rolling away as the bear’s strong jaws snapped for his leg. When the bear missed, he swiped out with a paw bigger than Greyhawk’s head, and gleaming claws ripped into Greyhawk’s left arm. The pain was so stunning, it left Greyhawk breathless.
Forgetting every lesson he knew, Greyhawk lunged to his feet and ran.
The bear was right behind him, roaring. The bloody spear in its front shoulder, Greyhawk’s last cast, flopped with every bound.
When Greyhawk could feel Bear’s hot breath on the
back of his neck, he jumped headfirst over the edge of the ridge and tumbled down the slope like a thrown rock. His head bashed every boulder on the way down.
He landed facedown at the bottom, dazed. For a moment, he didn’t know where he was. He crawled to his hands and knees and looked around. He didn’t recognize this place. Where was … ?
“Greyhawk!”
Twig screamed.
He scrambled up to look at her.
Halfway down the slope, the bear had collapsed on his side; his strained breathing was like a tearing sound on the wind. Twig stood two paces away with a spear in her hand, ready if the bear stood up again.
“Are you all right?” Twig called.
“Yes,” he said, and climbed the slope, taking gulps of the cold air. Blood trickled down his face from his wounded head, and his arm burned as though afire. “At least, I’m alive.”
“Thank the Spirits,” Twig said when he got close. “When I saw you at the bottom of the slope, I thought … You’re bleeding! Are you hurt?” She ran to him.
Greyhawk sank down atop a rock five paces from the dying animal. Frozen puffs of breath still escaped the bear’s jaws, but the soul was going out of his wide eyes. Greyhawk’s first spear had gone true. It must have pierced the bear’s heart.
Twig knelt by Greyhawk’s side, looked at his head wounds, and pulled back the blood-soaked shreds of his
shirt to examine his wound. Her pretty face tensed. “The bear’s claws sliced deep, Greyhawk. I’m going to have to bandage this.”
The bear’s legs trembled in sudden weakness, then pawed the air for a few moments before going still. Finally, his huge mouth lolled open, revealing sharp teeth longer than Greyhawk’s hand.
Greyhawk’s eyes silently traced the lines of Bear’s huge body, noting his two spears. He had killed a bear. By the laws of his clan, he had just become a man.
If his father was alive, he would be proud.
Greyhawk exhaled hard. His arm had started to hurt badly, and his muscles felt like boiled grass stems, but they had to keep going. He shoved to his feet. “Let’s cut some strips of bear meat and get out of here, Twig. The raiders are still after us. I know they are.”
“First, I need to bandage your arm. Stay here. I’ll run back to the ambush site and collect some strips of clothing from our dead warriors. After I’m done, I’ll cut the strips of meat; then we’ll go.”
He gratefully sat down again. His head had begun to throb. Through swimming eyes, he watched Twig trot away down the trail.

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