Kim Robinson - Shaman

Still. He had that bone sticker hidden in the hides on the wall. And whenever he was sent out for firewood, or frozen fish from the food platform, or sealskin bags of fat, he tried to steal things and hide them, first in the hides on the wall, or in snowdrifts around camp, and then, when he went out foraging for firewood, under a boulder in the valley nearest camp, one boulder in a clump of boulders at the bottom of a rockslide. The hole under this boulder was like a marmot house, and of course marmots could get into it, so he did not leave food. But over time he hid stolen bags and backsacks, and later two jackets with hoods, and sticks that could be walking poles or spears. Anything he could steal that was not food, that he thought might be useful for the walk home, he took and put there.

But he still couldn’t think of how to get away.

Thorn was crossing Quick Pass when a figure appeared in the meadow at the head of Lower’s Upper. Thorn went still and watched for a while. He couldn’t see like he used to. Then the figure waved at him. It was Pippiloette. Thorn waved back, and the traveler ascended the headwall under the pass at speed. Thorn tugged at the remnant of his left ear, a stub that he seldom touched. When the traveler appeared in the pass, Thorn went to him and they embraced, then regarded each other holding hands.

—Do you know where Loon is? Thorn said.

—Yes. He was taken by the same northers who took his wife.

Thorn growled.—When?

—Right after they took her. I helped him track them, but their scouts took him in the dawn. I heard them coming and slipped away, but I had to stay quiet to do it.

—And then?

—They went north to their place. I followed them for a while, but then I had to go east. Now I’m on my way home, but I wanted to let you know what happened.

Thorn nodded, frowning.—Come to our camp. You’ll be our guest, and you can tell Heather.

Pippiloette nodded.

Back in camp the people gathered around the fire to listen to Pippiloette tell his tale. He stood to do it.

Thorn said,—Could you lead us to them?

—I can describe the way, Pippiloette said,—in a way you can’t miss. I myself have to go home now.

The people of Wolf pack talked it over. Schist and Ibex didn’t say much, but indicated that they were not interested in taking on the northers for a wife that had been the northers’ to begin with, nor for anyone who might have gotten involved with her. The younger men, Moss and Hawk and their friends, spoke with more heat, because they missed their friend, but really, they didn’t want to go either. As they urged Schist to act they tried to suggest they were the ones needed at home, to do their part in the pack’s work. There was even some truth to this.

Thorn wandered away from the fire, down to the riverside and its view of the sky to the north. It was late; Two Valleys had tipped on its side, and the Ladle was pouring its contents back onto its curving handle.

Later still Thorn returned to camp and went to Heather’s nest. He sat by her little fire and warmed his hands. All her helper girls were asleep in their caribou blankets, faces turned to the fire. Heather eventually creaked over and sat down beside him. For a long time neither of them spoke.

—I’m going to go get them, Thorn said finally.

—No.

—Yes.

Heather made a little snort.—We need you here.

—We need them too.

Heather said nothing. She was the one caring for Loon and Elga’s child.

—I’ll be fast.

Heather regarded him for a long time.—Is Pippiloette going with you?

—No.

—But you’ll need help.

—Maybe so.

Heather said nothing.

Thorn said,—Is that old one you cured still hanging around? What was his name?

—Click, Heather said.—I call him Click. It’s like the sound he makes for himself. She made a clucking sound by pulling her tongue away from the roof of her mouth.—That’s the way he says it. Yes, he’s around. Up at Hill In the Middle. He visits with me when I go there looking for hellebore.

—Will you help me find him? And ask him to come with me?

She stared at Thorn and he let her. Finally she said,—Why him?

Thorn shrugged.—He’s strong.

She kept staring at him.—And he’s the only one who will go with you.

—That too. But he’ll be good. He’s stronger than any of them.

He went to Pippiloette and said,—Tell me where they are. Show me.

They went to the sand bank by the bend in the river. Pippi scuffed smooth a patch of the sand, and first made a very clear copy of the festival meadow and its surrounding hills, piling up ridges of sand with his bunched fingers and using some pebbles to indicate peaks. He was one of the best bird’s eye makers at the eight eight, and when he had finished shaping the festival area, he continued by shaping the sand to the north of that, showing rivers crossing first steppe and then a broad valley running east to west. North of that, right against the sea’s edge, drawn with a curving line, were some low hills, and among these hills Pippi stuck a stick.

Thorn nodded. It was a long way north.

At sunrise Thorn rose and finished packing his sack. When it was full, and he had eaten some smoked salmon and a few handfuls of pine nuts, he went to Heather’s nest.

She was ready, her sack already on her back. Before they left she gave him a little sachet.—It doesn’t work right away. It’s fast, but not immediate.