Zara the Wolf (2 page)

The men's strength was a problem even for the other women.
Although I could anticipate their attack, the strength of the blow would push
my sword aside and I would receive at least a glancing blow. And while we now
wore padding and the swords were lighter than the ones the warriors used, it
hurt and left nasty bruises. As I reflected at night on each fight, I could
understand what was happening, but that didn't provide a solution.
If only I could trap the blade
, I mused.
The current guard protected the hand but usually just deflected the blade. I
managed the pain and ignored the warriors' satisfaction at causing me pain, but
I knew in a real fight I would die. So after a summer of thought, I managed to
talk the weapons maker into designing a new guard with two hand-width
lengths—one pointing downward to protect the hand and one pointing upward
to catch and hold the opponent’s blade. The weapons maker did it because the
concept interested him—not to please me. When I showed for practice,
Chua, our instructor, took my sword and spent some time examining it before
returning it to me.

"It not work." He beckoned to a male student. When
he reached us, Chua grinned. "Fight."

The young man laughed as he lunged with a powerful hack at
my waist, knowing my sword couldn't stop it completely. Of course, he was
right, but this time it didn't deflect off mine into me but was trapped in my
new guard. We traded blows. The force of his attack drove me backward, jolting
my arm up to the shoulder, but the edge of his sword never touched me.

"Stop!" Chua stood staring at me. For the rest of
the day, he experimented by having me fight everyone, giving my sword to
others, and even trying it himself. When the day ended, he pronounced his
decision. "Don't like. Would take learning new way to fight. Maybe good
for weak women."

Of course that last observation meant no woman would use it,
as it identified her as weak. He didn’t say I couldn't use it, and I didn't
care what he or the others thought of me. They had made no effort to befriend
me. Just the opposite, they had gone out of their way to make my life beastly.
Zara would always be a slave. I believe they assumed that sometime during the
training I would be killed. The training was hard and deaths were common. In
the meantime it challenged their youth and provided entertainment.

* * *

Over the next couple of summers, I became proficient with my
new sword, although I intentionally failed to use its real capability during my
many matches. I could see a time coming when the fight would be real and my
life might depend on being underestimated. I had discovered if I trapped a
sword and quickly twisted, the pressure on my opponent’s hand would rip the
sword lose. I had done it once but never again, although I had hundreds of
opportunities. I could also use it to force my opponent’s sword upward, since
it was trapped in my new guard, and approach close enough to stab him. Ironically,
all the warriors carried knives in their belts, but we didn't use them to
practice.

The warrior used a short bow, accurate at about twenty
paces, which was good for raiding and killing game from hiding. I struggled
with the bow the warriors took so naturally, since they had begun practicing at
a young age. They enjoyed teasing me when we practiced, as I seldom hit the
target. What they didn't know was that I wasn't aiming at the target. At some
point, I had discovered that a quiet mind—where the bow, arrow, and I
were one—made it easy, and the arrows were going exactly where I aimed.
That winter my warrior training ended.

"Nibi, Ayas, Kele, and Zara, you have reached the age
of testing. At sunset you will begin your trial to be judged worthy or not to
be a warrior of the Ojaza," Chua said as we gathered for our morning
class. "Go prepare yourselves."

The test was simple but not easy, and it was common for one
not to return—eaten by the Snow God as unworthy—or to return early,
thereby failing the test and spending the rest of his or her life just above
the status of a slave. I collected my weapons, put on a summer shirt, pants,
and shoes, and walked back to the sweat hut where the other three would join
me. We would spend the rest of the day preparing ourselves, which meant praying
to one or another of the animal spirits to protect us. I just sat with a quiet
mind, naked and sweating like the others. Hours later, Chua appeared at the
door.

"Time to go. Get dressed," he said, inspecting each
article of clothing before we put them on. We could only wear a summer shirt,
pants, and shoes, as the trial was a test of the individual's survival
skill—no food, and summer clothing in the dead of winter. After we had dressed,
he inspected the weapons we had brought. When he was satisfied, he opened the
door. It looked like the entire village waited to watch us leave. We were not
allowed to team up, not that I wanted to, and I headed toward the mountain,
whereas the other three headed toward the forest. Cold was the first enemy, and
the nights would be the worst, so I needed shelter until I could find clothing.
I thought most of the others would try raiding one of the other tribes or
villages lower in the foothills. It took me all night and most of the next day
to locate a cave large enough to moderate the outside temperatures. The rest of
the day I spent examining the ground for animal tracks to determine what I
might be able to catch for food and clothing. At dusk I located a small series
of pools make by runoff from melting snow during the day. After rubbing myself
with snow, leaves, and dirt to minimize my scent, I found myself a perch in a
nearby tree and waited. It was fortunate the trial started and ended with a
full moon, because otherwise I wouldn't have had enough light to target my
prey. It was early morning when a small ground animal approached the pond. As
it drank, I quieted my mind and shot. The arrow entered through its side and
pinned it to the icy ground—an impossible shot if not for learning how to
quiet my mind years ago: I was shivering from the cold and exhausted, having
been up for two days.

My belly ached from hunger, and I wanted to run down there,
snatch up my food, and return to the cave to eat and rest. But I didn't. The
first few days would determine if I would live or die, so I watched as
scavengers began eating my food. Birds were the first to arrive, then lizards,
then what I had hoped for—wolves. Resisting the urge to shoot, I quieted
my mind and took careful aim at the largest one while waiting for a shot to the
heart. There were three of them, and their fighting kept them moving.
Eventually, the largest one backed the other two off and stood staring at them.
I shot just as he moved. The arrow entered the chest but missed where I thought
the heart would be. He screamed, whirring as he looked for his attacker. I
nocked another arrow and shot one of the other wolves, which I hit in the neck.
He stumbled only a few feet and dropped, although not dead. The third took
advantage of the situation and grabbed the animal I had shot, ripped it loose,
and ran off with the large male chasing him.

I slowly lowered myself and almost collapsed when my leg
cramped as I touched the ground. My head spun and my arm felt too heavy to
lift. I forced myself to move toward the fallen wolf. He snarled as I
approached.

"You understand," I said to the wolf. "We do
what we must to survive. At least you won't suffer." My sword slashed
through his neck. I captured the blood pouring out his severed neck and drank.
I gagged on the warm blood and felt like vomiting except I knew I needed food
or I'd freeze to death. I still had much to do. I draped the young wolf around
my neck and felt a wave of pleasure as the warmth of its body and blood seeped
into my neck and shoulders. After a minute, I shook my head to clear it and
began following the drops of blood. When dawn came, the tracks showed he was
walking slowly, and it wouldn't be long. An hour later, I saw the birds
circling overhead and knew I had finally caught up. When I arrived, the
scavengers were picking at the body. There was no way I was going to be able to
carry these two back to my cave so I began gathering twigs and started a fire.
When I had the fire going, I cut off some meat from the young wolf’s thigh and
cooked it. I don't remember ever having tasted anything so delicious. I craved
sleep, but that would have to wait. I spent the next several hours separating
the hides from the two wolves and cleaning them. When I finished, I wrapped the
larger one's hide around me and sat close to the fire, feeling warm for the
first time in days.

I woke to a searing pain in my shoulder. When I opened my
eyes, Nibi stood thirty paces away, notching an arrow, and I had one in my
shoulder. I had been lucky. The wolf-robe had been draped over my head, and
Nibi either misjudged where my heart was, or was as exhausted as me, or too
excited to shoot straight. I rolled off to the side when he shot again, and the
arrow sailed harmlessly by. He drew his sword and came running toward me,
laughing as he came. I drew my sword and waited. Although there was plenty of
meat for us both, I guess he didn't want to share it with a slave. That was
fair. I didn't want to share it with warriors who had killed my father and
mother. He slowed as he approached, smiling as he surveyed the meat and the
hides.

"I should thank you for all this, slave."

Now came the real test of my ability and my special sword.

"No, Nibi. You should curse me. If I hadn’t killed the
wolf, you would probably have survived on roots and rats to become a cowardly
Ojaza warrior. Now you are going to die."

"Ehwee is providing me clothing and food for killing
you." He laughed, pointing to the heavier clothing he was wearing.

"I guess she thought you a better archer than you
are," I said, because she knew he couldn't kill me with a sword. I quieted
my mind to where neither fear nor wants existed, just the encounter to come. I
was at peace with whatever the future held.

When it came, his attack was a vicious strike to my wounded
side. I blocked it, catching it in my guard, but the force slammed my blade
into my shoulder. The pain caused spots to dance in front of my eyes. He slid
the sword out of my guard and thrust toward my ribs. I blocked it with the
guard covering my hand, driving it past my ribs, but I felt skin tear as it scraped
my stomach. Too close to do anything but draw his arm back for an attack to my
chest and neck, I stepped closer and slid my dagger into his armpit. He
screamed, and his sword dropped to the ground as his arm went dead. As he stood
staring wide-eyed at me, my sword sliced through his neck, spinning him to the
ground.

In a trance, I pulled out the arrow and used pieces torn
from my pants to bandage both wounds. Then I undressed Nibi and dressed in his
clothes, cut off a thigh from the wolf, collected the two hides, and started
back to my cave. I don't remember the trip back or what happened next. When I
woke and could think again, I found myself wrapped in the wolves' furs. I had apparently
made a fire or two and had cooked some of the meat. But an animal of some kind
had finished the rest down to the bone, which lay several steps away. My wounds
looked like I had cauterized them. They looked ugly and raw but not infected. I
needed water. My lips felt like bark. I collected everything and made my way
back to the spot where Nibi and I had fought. It took the entire day, as I had
to stop and rest frequently and had to go out of my way to find running water.
When I arrived, there were still small scavengers cleaning up, but everything
else remained the same. Ants and bugs roamed Nibi by the thousands, and he was
unrecognizable. I put an arrow through a dog that refused to leave, cut off a
leg, skinned it, and roasted it over a fire I made a hundred steps from Nibi
and the wolves’ remains. I slept by the fire, content with knowing the smell of
wolf from the skins and the fire would keep me relatively safe—except
from humans. I woke as the sky turned grey and explored the area. Around noon,
I found a fast moving river that looked to end in the valley below. I made
several trips back and forth to get Nibi and cleanup the area. After stripping
him, I sent him and his weapons into the river and watched as he bounced over
and around boulders until he was out of sight. Reluctantly, I also sent his
clothing after him. Ehwee would know I killed him but couldn't say anything
without admitting she violated the tribes code by giving Nibi food and
clothing—no one would care she wanted me dead. Then I had to decide what
I was going to do next. I couldn't return to the tribe until the next full
moon, but I had several hands-of-days lead if I wanted to escape now. I decided
I wasn’t fit to enter civilization right now. How fast could I travel in my
current condition? What would the reaction be to a woman wandering in a wolf
skin, wounded, and carrying Indian weapons? They could mistake me for a runaway
warrior and hang me on the spot. They hated the mountain tribes, so there was
no way to know how they would react.

* * *

 
I decided to use
this as an opportunity to put to use what the tribe had taught me and the other
would-be-warriors about surviving in the wilderness while I rested and regained
my health. I collected roots and plants to supplement the small game I trapped
or shot. I made myself leggings from the young wolf and a coat from the older
male—leaving the head on to lie on mine. I made a snow shelter and stayed
a few days, stayed in caves, and slept in trees. And I studied the habits of
the animals I came across. I was sorry when the next full moon arrived. It took
a hand of days to make it back to camp. Ehwee didn't look happy to see me. I
gave no indication of knowing what she had done. Chua was amused when he saw me
with the wolf's skin.

"We don't seem to be able to get rid of you, Zara the
Wolf," he said, giving me my warrior name, which was then tattooed on my
neck: a wolf’s head with a flowing main surrounded by curvy lines with sharp
ends. The head defined my tribal name while the curvy lines designated me a
warrior. The number of lines and points somehow related to the warrior’s war
experience. A new warrior, like me, received two main lines with two sharp ends
extending from each. Older warriors had as many a six lines with four sharp
ends each.

I spent the next month building a hut, which was my right as
a warrior. I was now free to wander the camp at will and to sit in at any
gatherings, which I did—I was a spy, and the more I knew the better.
People talked to me, but I was still pretty much ignored since I didn't cause
any trouble.