RSS 2.0 FeedNatural Law
A sharp, morning frost woke me from a restless slumber. I rose, stamping my numbed feet, and put a thick oak branch on the glowing embers. Only one great stump remained from the pile of firewood he'd gathered last evening. Soon he has to set off to the shore and look for some driftwood, to – I shook my head without finishing my foolish thought. Looking at the sleeping man, I stooped and noticed his slightly trembling eyelids. "Why don't you sleep, father? You should rest so you can be on your feet soon."
Father's turbid eyes stared at me. I clearly felt he sensed the same deceit as when, as a child, I'd tried to lie to him. "Do you remember –" A spasmodic cough interrupted his sentence; he waited until he recovered his breath. "Do you remember, many years ago, when
you and I searched for food all day long? But we found nothing except a tiny squirrel."
"How could I forget that day? You allowed me to shoot at the animal, but I missed it – what a shame!"
My father shook his head. "No harm done.” The squeeze of his hand was surprisingly firm. "And then we suddenly –" He gasped once, twice.
I took up the story. "Yes – we heard a distant howling. There must have been more than one wolf, probably a pack. Oh, how we ran! But then I stumbled and hurt my knee. You kept me from falling and carried me up to our hamlet. My uncle emerged with a burning branch in his hand – and the wolves took flight in panic, in fear."
Father nodded feebly. "Wolves are not afraid of yelling or drumming, even shooting won’t scare them for long. Only fire." He sighed, and his hand relaxed. The hardly audible gurgling from his throat showed he was still alive.
I stepped to the ebbing fire and with some difficulty rolled the stump onto the embers. As I put on my snowshoes, my malamutes leapt up, shaking snow off their fur and whimpering eagerly to haul my sled. They knew I'd give them their first meal of frozen fish only after two hours of sledding. Then, from a distance, came the howl of my childhood.
I couldn’t look at the linen shelter behind which my father was lying on pine branches. How far had the others gone? Probably up to Two Creeks if they travelled all day. Their sleds were fully loaded, and I worried if they'd manage to overcome Moose Slope. How many of us would reach Fort Laradell, where food and shelter were waiting to us.
I said, trying to keep my voice from trembling, "Two dried salmon are within reach,"
My father's eyes avoided mine. "Off with you, Kanak. You have to catch them before dark or else –" A coughing fit interrupted him again.
I didn't look back when I shouted at the dogs and cracked a whip over their heads. I heard the howl again, nearer than before, and wiped my eyes with the backside of my fur gloves. My tribe was far ahead, and nobody saw my face, an image of their best hunter and bravest warrior. These tears were from the cold wind.