Fargoer (16 page)

Her plan was to go round the trio that blundered among the branches, and also the moose that ran towards escape. She tried to get in front of the animal and onto a good spot for shooting. Hunting knowledge, inherited from her fore-mothers, told her to go round from the east, but her own instinct drove her west. She rarely opposed her inner feelings, but now she hesitated for a moment, unable to reach a decision. The wind, blowing from the west, would bring her scent straight to the moose struggling in the thicket and could scare the animal, causing it to change its direction, which would have been disastrous for Vierra.

The she-wolf inside got the best of her, and Vierra finally decided to follow her instincts. After going around the thicket from the west for a while, she noticed that the wind started to act up and blow from the east for a moment. Choosing the other direction would have been her undoing, as the moose would surely have picked up her smell with its sensitive nostrils. Thankful, she skied forward as fast as she could, being weakened by hunger, and her hopefulness rose by every skid.

After skiing for a while, Vierra stopped to wait in the thicket, sweaty and shaking, clinging to her luck. Following the sweat came shivers of cold and the nausea that followed exertion done under severe hunger. She managed to calm her empty stomach, though; vomiting and shooting a bow at the same time was not possible and she would only have one chance, if that.

A moment passed and the female moose charged from the forest toward Vierra’s hiding place, the frozen terror of desperate flight in its eyes. Two feathered arrows stuck out from its sides. The men had reached shooting distance, but their bows had not been able to deliver death accurately enough. Vierra, letting the animal as close as she dared, stood up and released an arrow at the same time. The sharp arrowhead sank into the base of the moose’s neck, from straight in front of the animal. The moose grunted and halted in its tracks as if hit by a solid rock. It started a lanky escape toward the thickets as blood spurted from the grievous wound onto the snow. Vierra skied fast after the moose and found it lying in the thickets a dozen paces away. It twitched few times and then surrendered its life, as blood gushed intermittently from the gaping wound in its neck. The covering of civilization was left at the feet of a screaming hunger and Vierra stormed at the moose to drink greedily of the warm liquid of life that was spurting out. In the past, she would have poured blood to the ground as well, giving her thanks to Mother Earth or the Seita. She had, however, started to shun ceremonies more and more, as she did now.

Suddenly, the men skied into sight. They stopped, astonished, seeing the prey they had followed for so long already felled, and an unknown woman by its side. Vierra wiped blood from the sides of her mouth and yanked an arrow on the string of her bow. The young men also groped at their bows and one of them yelled.

“Hoa! What wisp are you that slurps blood here? You may have gotten the moose but the quarry is ours, for we have chased it for the whole long day.”

“I am human just as you, and not a malicious fairy. And you can hunt an animal for as long as you want, and still it won’t be your catch unless you fell it.”

“There are three of us but you are alone. You would dare to defend the bounty against us?”

“You look like Kainu, but maybe you have lived this far south for too long. If you still respected the ways of our people, you would know that the feller of the prey has the right to decide its destiny. My blood is of chieftain’s blood. I am a woman. Perhaps you have forgotten the teachings of the old crones after you came this far to the south.”

“We haven’t forgotten them. We just haven’t had a sight of a woman since the last summer. And our hunger is grave, so grave that we may well throw the old traditions for the wolves.”

“I am as hungry as you. I rather die here quickly fighting you than slowly lying in the snow. I wouldn’t want to kill men of my people though, and a moose feeds more than one. I see that you have a sledge. Does that mean that you also have a village, or a winter camp? I suggest that we make a fire and sate our hunger together, and then ski to your village where we can share the meat with your kin. All I want, and I mind you my demand is perfectly reasonable as the kill is mine, is a week’s share off the carcass.”

The young men looked doubtful for a while. Hunger was on her side, however, and they finally accepted her proposal. It didn’t take long for the handy woodsmen to gut the moose. They obeyed the traditions and drained its heart’s blood to the ground saying thanks to Mother Earth as the old custom demanded. Meanwhile, Vierra set up a crackling fire, in which they started to roast the fresh meat in the ends of wooden sticks. The meat was tough, and burned from the surface while still being raw inside. Even so, Vierra couldn’t remember eating anything half as good and gobbled down the meat large chunks at a time. The men’s thoughts were the same, concluding from the way they also stuffed their mouths with the barely fried flesh. The sounds of smacking mixed with the crackling of the wet branches in the campfire, until their stomachs were full. Only after they had eaten did the men introduce themselves as Ulva, Raito and Armas. Ulva was the oldest of the group, if one could call old a boy of eighteen summers. He was loud, had a hooked nose and seemed to be the undeclared leader of the group. Raito did not speak after the introduction, but sat, tall and serious, while the two shorter men did the talking. Armas was the youngest, a bit insecure, but an observant and talkative young man nevertheless.

“It seems you’ve followed the moose since the morning,” said Vierra finally, preening her tightly combed hair back with the moose fat that was left in her hands.

“Yes, and the journey home will be arduous. We must go soon to make it before the dark. Otherwise it might be the wolves that feast on the meat and not us. There are a lot of them around in these parts,” said Ulva seriously.

“Let’s do it then,” answered Vierra bluntly and stood up. She covered her head with a fur cap and put on her skis.

They lifted the moose carcass to the sledge and started to pull it toward the men’s home village. The voyage proved to be trying, however. Even though the sledge slid well, there was a lot of weight on it now and the snow didn’t carry it well anymore. They put two skiers to pull the sledge while the other two went forward and opened a path for them. They took only one short break but the night still started to darken frighteningly fast.

“I think a pack of wolves is following us,” said Armas, ever-aware of his surroundings.

“We will soon have to stop for the night or we won’t be able to see well enough to make a fire,” yelled Vierra to the two who were opening the track.

Nobody resisted as it was still a long way to the village. They stumbled from fatigue as they started to gather branches and stamp the snow for a campsite. The campfire had to be lit fast if they wanted to make sure the wolves weren’t encouraged to attack in the dusk. Vierra got on with the task immediately while the others gathered more firewood. She struck the fire skillfully and the wood started to burn with a small flame.

“We need more and bigger firewood. If the fire dies, so do we. Raito and Armas, come tend to the fire while I go find a snag with Ulva,” yelled Vierra over the sputtering flames. Her face was smudged with soot and her clothes wet from crouching in the snow.

Ulva skied on ahead of Vierra, further into the dark forest in order to find suitable firewood. As soon as he disappeared into the dense thicket there were sounds of scuffle and Vierra hurried closer. She fired an arrow to the middle of the bushes and a wolf escaped in a yelp of pain. Ulva came out of the brushwood, groaning and holding his leg.

“What a shot in this darkness,” said Ulva to Vierra who approached with her skis.

“Are you badly hurt?”

“I’m fine,” he replied. “Let’s go and fell that tree.”

The wolf had attacked him on the edge of the bushes but Vierra’s arrow had driven the beast and its companions away, at least for now. They skied fast to a large snag and Ulva chopped it down with his axe while Vierra kept guard, in case more wolves would appear.

Together, they pulled the felled tree to the fire as the darkness closed them into a small islet of fluttering light. The sky was still thickly clouded, making the night’s darkness totally impenetrable.

“Let’s keep the fire high and the wolves away,” Ulva stated while rolling the ragged pant leg up from the wolf bite. The wound was worse than he admitted. The beast’s teeth had pierced the skin and dug deep, all the way to the bone. The punctures bled considerably but he was not in an immediate danger.

“I have no medicine with me and, I think, neither do you. We just have to sew it and hope for the best.” Vierra brought out a thin bone pin. Then she stitched the wound with a thread made of dried tendons while Ulva grimaced, biting his teeth in pain. He didn’t complain, though, as he would have seemed weak in front of this outsider woman.

The hunters now made themselves as comfortable as they could by their wintery campfire. Skins were detached from the sledge and spread out by the fire and used as mattresses and blankets for the people that slept close together. One was put on guard, to care for the fire and keep an eye out for wolves. Now and then a sad howl could be heard from the surrounding darkness. The beasts hadn’t given up yet. Everyone was tired from the day’s exertions and, after a quick dinner of some more venison, the men went to sleep.

Vierra took the first guard and sat by the fire, while singing quietly by herself. She constantly peered into the surrounding dark, but no wild beasts came to try their defenses. She looked at the sleeping hunters who were illuminated by the flames. Ulva turned from side to side, as if chasing the moose even when asleep. Raito slept quietly and still, very much the same way he always was. Vierra’s attention went to Armas who was sleeping peacefully. This lively young man stirred up memories of her own son. The same kind of blond hair and freely flowing mind connected him with her son, who had died years ago. Vierra sighed and released her gaze from the sleeping boy, and the far away memories in her mind.

When her watch came to the end, Vierra woke up Raito to take his turn as guard and then tried to get some sleep on the furs. For a moment her natural suspicion prevented her from falling asleep. Reason and fatigue won eventually for she couldn’t sense any deceit or threat in the men’s behavior. In the forest you were used to trusting even complete strangers because, sometimes, it was the only way to stay alive. Vierra lapsed into an uneasy sleep as Raito added more wood to the sputtering fire.

She snapped awake to gentle shakes from Ulva. Even though the spring was on its way the nights were still long. The dark hours after midnight were at hand and the firewood was about to run out. In order to save the little they had left, they let the campfire burn down to embers and kept their eyes focused to the dark forest. There was movement to be seen now and then, on the edge of the fading circle of light, and you could hear the sounds of paws over the crackling of the fire. The wolves were still out there and the diminishing flames tempted them closer and closer.

“There goes the last of the firewood,” said Armas. There was fear in his voice and in his eyes that gleamed by the glowing fire. The fire brightened for a moment, throwing sparks high up to the air.

“You keep your arrows and your knife ready. We haven’t been eaten yet,” Vierra stated encouragingly and stepped nearer to the boy. “Stay close to me.” The young boy’s fear awakened her maternal instinct. She stood by the fire that slowly waned into embers, with an arrow on her bowstring and her green eyes flashing. Frighteningly fast the campfire dimmed to a faint glow while a pale hint of light could be seen in the eastern horizon.

When the morning glimmer created a grim, dark blue moment, the wolves began their attack. They came simultaneously and from multiple directions as if the surrounding forest was shooting dark gray arrows over the deep blue field of snow. Vierra’s bow sang the vivid song of death and many of the dark gray arrows halted midflight on the snow, stopped by a smaller and even angrier arrow. The men were busy with their bows too and it wasn’t long before the wolves gave up and fled back to the shelter of the forest.

“Let’s pack our gear and leave, they’ll linger nearby anyway waiting for another chance,” said Ulva. He gathered the arrows off the bodies of the fallen wolves.

“Let’s gather these first,” Armas said and started to skin one of the animals. “These are valuable.”

“Take the flesh too. If everyone else in your village is as hungry as you, it’ll come in need,” Vierra ventured.

“Runtamoinen will not like it, and probably not the skins either,” Armas considered.

“Don’t care about Runtamoinen,” the taciturn Raito snorted. “We’ll just say that it came off a moose, and he happily eats it.”

“It’s not wise to annoy Runtamoinen. He is more powerful than all the other villagers combined,” said Ulva with an irritated voice.

“That is his apprentice talking. His powers have not gotten your stolen women back, or taught us how to preserve game,” answered Raito.

An uneasy silence fell over them as they prepared to leave. Raito and Armas skinned the wolves as fast as they could, and Vierra loosened the largest pieces of meat to be taken with them. There was no time for accurate work, so the flesh was randomly cut. Ulva did not participate, but focused in gathering their gear and readying them for departure.

“A Songman’s minion,” whispered Ulva, staring at tall Raito. He spoke softly, so nobody else could hear him.

There was almost a sad look in the yellow eyes of the silver-maned wolf as it observed its brothers which had fallen to the snow. It didn’t join the escaping pack, though, but watched the hunters from the safety of the dark, alone.