Breakaway: Clan of the Ice Mountains (3 page)

“We must wait,” Moolnik said. “We must not anger the trystas by leaving Elder Tovut’s body before the next moon. We must not disrespect our elder in that way.”

“I agree with you,” Attu's father said. “But remember, Elder Tovut told us during the storytelling a few days ago that we need to leave immediately.”

“This is true,” one of the other hunters said, and all heads nodded except for Moolnik’s.

“Elder Tovut was a very old man,” Moolnik replied, his lips curling into a sneer as he spoke. “We should not listen to one whose spirit was perhaps already on its journey before his body followed a few days later.”

Moolnik leaned back, his sneer turning into a grin as he nodded his head slightly, inviting the others to join him.

Attu moved forward and placed himself in the group, his shoulder touching his father’s. Once sitting in the circle of men, Attu gestured with his right hand, placing it palm down before him as if to warm it at the lamp. The men grew quiet.

“Speak, my son,” his father said.

“All here know my great respect for Elder Tovut, may his spirit soar on the spear of the trysta into the night sky and become a bright star in the heavens,” Attu began. “I believe Elder Tovut spoke the truth about our need to leave now. I see the hollows in my sister's cheeks, and I know she is not getting enough meat. I’m sure it’s the same with your women and children. The game has grown scarce. I believe we must go now while we are still strong enough to travel.”

Several men nodded their heads, paused, then looked toward Moolnik.

Always now they defer to Moolnik
.
Can’t these men think for themselves?
Attu thought.

“If we do not respect the spirits and stay,” Moolnik argued, “disaster will follow us, and we will all die. We must stay and guard Elder Tovut’s grave for the full time ritual dictates.”

The other men popped their lips, a sharp sound of agreement. Only Attu’s father remained silent.

After a moment, the men began talking again, working out the details of guarding Elder Tovut’s body from the evil spirits until the next full moon. Attu felt himself flush with anger. Motioning with his head in a quick sideways gesture the hunters used, a signal he was leaving, he crawled out of Moolnik’s snow house and headed for Elder Tovut’s.

Attu slipped into Elder Tovut’s snow house, bending to walk through the entrance tunnel and up the steep incline, pausing where the tunnel turned to the right before opening up into the snow house. He heard the women before he saw them, the eight adult women of the clan working around the body of Elder Tovut, wrapping every inch of him with soft skins cut into strips like bandages. Elder Tovut’s face was creased with the traditional painted signs of a departed one. On his right cheek the sign for his clan, Ice Mountains, and on the left, the jagged zigzag sign for Tovuttuan, the spirit of the ice cliffs themselves.

“Are you going to ask for entrance, Attu, mighty hunter, or are you just going to crouch there all day like a Moolnikuan spirit waiting to play a nasty trick on us?”

“I bring no evil,” Attu spoke to gain entrance.

“We’ll see about that,” was Elder Nuanu’s terse reply.

“Attu, you’re back,” his mother said, and Attu heard the relief in her voice.

“Yes, Mother, and two snow otters have given up their spirits for our cooking skins,” he replied.

“I must go,” his mother said and began to rise.

“Meavu has taken the meat,” Attu explained. “When I left she’d already begun preparations. And yes, Mother,” Attu added when he saw his mother’s dark eyes widen in sudden alarm, “she followed all ritual. She’s no longer a little girl, but knows her duties.”

His mother knelt back down again and resumed her wrapping of Elder Tovut’s left leg, a hint of a smile brightening her round face.

“A good girl,” several of the women said, their lips popping slightly as they spoke the compliment. “You’ve done well, Yural.”

Attu’s mother lowered her gaze, but Attu could see she was beaming with pride.

Attu approached Elder Nuanu, who was sitting cradling her man’s head as if he were merely sleeping.

“I know what you are going to say,” Elder Nuanu began.

Attu sat down beside her and waited for her to continue.

“I’ve already tried persuading Moolnik and the others to leave immediately after my man’s burial. Your father understands. The other men do not. These women here...” and she waved her arms at the other women present with a gesture that seemed half anger and half resignation, “assure me they cannot change the minds of their men. Their men are like tooth fish grabbing at the bait and not letting go, even when dragged out onto the ice to freeze.”

Her voice was harsh, but once the words had passed her lips, Elder Nuanu seemed to draw into herself, weariness and sorrow carving new lines into her already creased face. She looked almost as old as the man whose head and shoulders she cradled, even though Attu knew she’d been Elder Tovut’s second wife, much younger than the ancient elder.

Elder Nuanu looked at Attu, understanding and resignation clearly evident on her face now. “Those men will wait,” she said, “even if it means all our deaths.”

The snow house was silent. Elder Nuanu slumped down, her hand caressing the brow of her dead man.

Yural shook her head, a quick movement, and full of determination. “We must rely on our hunters until the next full moon, Attu. I know you will do your part to keep us in meat until we can go.”

Attu’s stomach clenched.
There’s hardly any game left for the taking here. How will we keep our families strong enough so we can leave when it’s time?

After a moment, Elder Nuanu pursed her lips in agreement with Yural and sighed. “I’ll ask the spirits of shallow water to draw the animals and fish,” she said, as if she had read Attu’s mind. “It’s all I can do.”

“Thank you, Elder Nuanu, embodiment of Shuantuan,” Attu said. Still needing to know the answer to one question, he placed his hand out, palm down.

“Speak, Attu,” his mother said.

“What did Elder Tovut say before his spirit left his body?”

Attu asked this question reverently, for even though he had argued with the elder before leaving on his latest hunt, Attu had had great respect for Elder Tovut.

A hush came over the snow house again as the other women stopped wrapping Elder Tovut’s body and leaned in to hear what Elder Nuanu would say.

“First, my man spoke for my ears alone,” Elder Nuanu began, and paused as a single tear rolled down her wrinkled cheek. She touched the body of Elder Tovut tenderly, her fingertips gliding over his grey hair.

Taking a breath, she continued. “Then he said, ‘When Attu comes to ask you what I said, tell him if he does not believe in the Warming and the need for haste, our clan will be lost. Attu must stay strong, so he can lead the people to safety, that all may survive the great breaking. When the separation occurs, Attu must prevail, along with the one who will bear his sons and daughters. He is the hope of our people. Tell him he must not give up this hope.’”

Attu sat silent, and when the pressure of the other women’s eyes on him became too much, he shut his own.
People will perish without me? A great breaking? The one who will bear my sons and daughters? Do not give up hope? What did all of this mean?

“Attu,” Elder Nuanu said. “I know you are shocked to hear that Elder Tovut’s last words were for you, rather than for the leader of our clan as we would expect. But these events will come to pass. I’ve seen this truth, also. You will save our people. You must.”

As Elder Nuanu spoke, a great weight seemed to fall on Attu, the weight of his whole clan, as if all their bodies suddenly rested on his shoulders, he straining under the load.

“How can this be?” He asked Elder Nuanu. “I’m just a young hunter. I’m not an Elder. I’m not yet a father of strong sons and daughters. I’m just Attu.”

“The spirits do not call a leader who is worthy in his own eyes,” Elder Nuanu said. “They call the one who is willing to listen and to sacrifice for his clan. You are that man, Attu, Mighty Hunter. The spirits have chosen you. Move forward with what you know to do. And pray it will be enough for us all.”

E
lder Tovut had been given to the hills. The men danced the burial dance and took turns guarding the mound of rocks that covered his body, keeping the evil spirits away by their ritual chanting.

Attu had been a young boy the last time he’d stood with his father guarding a body, learning the rituals of protection. That night had seemed a never-ending time of bitter cold. This night, in comparison, seemed mild. Attu wondered.
Could a Warming time be coming? Had Nuvikuan-na been growing warmer over time, so gradually as to be missed by the generations of the Nuvik who lived out their lives upon the Great Expanse? And now, had Nuvikuan-na finally reached some invisible turning point? Had the Warming begun?

––––––––

“S
uka, Yupik, you’re with me,” Moolnik said. “Head out!” Without waiting for anyone to follow, Moolnik walked off the land they had called home for so long, and out over the Expanse upon the Great Frozen.

Suka looked at Attu, an apology in his eyes.

Attu shrugged and gathered his things, placing himself in the middle line of the clan as they headed across the ice to the south. The sun seemed warm for this early in the morning, the ice under him crunched in an odd way. He watched and listened as he walked along, wary of the changes in the surface of the ice and in the weather.

“Moolnik was furious when he heard Elder Tovut spoke of you and not him as the leader of our clan,” Yural reminded her son as the two of them walked along. “Don’t be surprised if he tries to slight you in every way, including not allowing you to lead with your cousin.”

“I know,” Attu said. Suka had told him how Moolnik had ranted at both him and Kinak because Elder Tovut had spoken no words about them.

“As if it were somehow our fault,” Suka had said. “The only good thing about it was that this time he was yelling at Kinak, too.”

As they walked along, Attu turned his thoughts away from Moolnik and worked instead to remember the last time his clan had moved. Then, they’d simply trekked across the Expanse unconcerned, people moving from one group to another, chatting and calling to the children who ran back and forth amongst them all, playing. The Great Frozen had always been solid ice beneath them back then, as secure as walking on the rocky outcroppings where they built their homes. Attu had been one of the children, laughing and running...

Now, the clan walked in three lines, each person in the tracks of one of the lead hunters, distributing their combined weight of people and belongings over a much larger area. They walked in silence, listening for the sudden moan of splitting or rotten ice. And although no one spoke of it for fear it might happen if they did, all knew that by dividing the group and putting a spear throw between them, and by carefully parceling out the supplies each person carried, if one group fell through the ice, the rest would have a greater chance of survival.

Moolnik led at a grueling pace and continued long after the clan needed to stop and rest. Moolnik was out to prove his strength, to contrast it with his brother Ubantu’s weakness since his accident. Again. Attu was furious with Moolnik. First they’d stayed too long to fulfill the ritual for Elder Tovut because Moolnik had insisted on it, and now, on the ice, Moolnik had decided to push the clan at a brutal pace.

Frustrated, Attu hit a chunk of loose ice with his spear butt, sending it skittering across the Great Frozen.

Meavu looked back at him and started to smile, but then frowned. Attu knew she’d hoped he was being playful, but she’d seen anger brewing on his face instead. Meavu turned back and continued trudging ahead. By the slump of her shoulders, Attu knew Meavu was growing more tired with every step, and it fueled his anger.

Attu wished Suka wasn’t leading with his father. Suka must know they were going too fast, but suggesting they slow down for the sake of the women and children would only anger Moolnik, and he would ridicule Suka for suggesting it. Yupik, the other hunter leading with them, followed Moolnik like a nuknuk pup after its mother. He’d never question Moolnik’s orders. They trudged on.

Attu felt the tension in the clan increase as they moved over the ice, falling further and further behind the leaders. Once, Attu saw Suka stop, turning to look at the rest of the group, now at least twenty long spear throws behind them. Attu thought he heard him shout something to Moolnik, but Moolnik didn’t pause for a step, nor did he turn around to acknowledge Suka or look behind him at the floundering clan.

It was hard to tell from that distance across the glaring ice, but Attu thought he saw Suka shake his head before picking up Moolnik’s pace again. Attu was proud of Suka if he had indeed tried to slow his father down.

Finally, Moolnik called a halt when the sun was at its highest point in the sky, shining directly in their faces as they headed south. Someone saw Moolnik’s raised hand and signaled for the others, who stopped where they stood, slinging off their packs and sitting on them. The women grabbed food pouches and began feeding the children. Moolnik, Suka, and Yupik were forced to walk back to the clan for food.

The women of the clan have their own ways of getting even.
Attu watched Tulnu hand Moolnik a small slice of dried meat. Moolnik growled at her, but she turned away as if she hadn’t heard him.

“My father is crazy,” Suka whispered between bites of dried meat as he stood beside Attu. “Look at our people.” Suka waved his hand across the group of red-cheeked women and children, their parka hoods thrown back, their hair damp with sweat.

“Even the littlest child knows sweat is a killer on the Expanse,” Attu agreed. “Soon we’ll have people with chills and headaches from their spirits not getting enough water. No one can drink enough with all this sweating, and it’s so warm-”

“Evil spirits will attack the weak as they chill again,” Suka interrupted. “I know. But my father won’t slow his pace.”