The Cusp, Part VIII

The next day the band broke camp and prepared for the trip to where they spent the winter. It was a place where a small river gave way to marsh. There were hills nearby with trees for wood and game. They would set fish traps and hunt migrating ducks and geese. The place was frequently used by the band, and they had food and heavier tools cached there. During warm weather the band lived in family shelters. At the winter camp they built dome shaped shelters out of reeds and lined with hides. The shelters were larger, accommodating 15 or more people and floored with woven mats. Two or three shelters used less wood to heat. The walls were thick and a small fire would keep the interior warm. On cloudy days fat lamps were used to provide additional light. The reed shelters had a framework of poles joined at the center with additional poles as cross pieces. Bundles of reeds were then tied to the framework. Smoke escaped through a hole in the center of the roof. When properly constructed the shelters were warm and dry.

He stayed busy helping with shelter construction and moving the large stones that secured the food caches. With what they had brought the band had a good start on enough for the winter. After the shelter was completed and mats woven the women began foraging. There were many cattail rhizomes in the marshy ground. The cold weather had made them sweet. He had been making arrow points by the entrance of the shelter when his mother and the women returned from gathering. She spoke to him.

“We saw a lot of boar sign down by the shore. I think they like cattails too.”

“I’m caught up on tools. Maybe I can get a pig for some fresh meat and fat for the lamps.”

“They are in the thick reeds on the southeast shore of the marsh. It is very thick in there I doubt you could get a shot with your bow.”

“My spear is getting lonely. She would appreciate the exercise.”

He found his uncle, the one who sang songs and made jokes, in the second shelter. They planned a pig hunt for the following morning. They were fond of each other and had often hunted together. His uncle was more than a singer and a comedian; he was a skilled hunter and a good friend. They met at dawn the next morning. The wind had shifted and they would be able to approach the area where the pigs had been feeding with the wind in their faces. They moved slowly and parted the reeds carefully, standing knee deep in water and mud coming at the pigs from the water. They heard the grunts of feeding pigs. They moved closer and were able to hear the sound of chomping as the pigs chewed the rhizomes. Using hand signals they moved closer circling the sound. Finally, there was just a screen of reeds between him and the pigs. He heard the sound of his uncle’s spear striking a pig accompanied by a squeal. He stepped forward and saw a mature boar facing him. He lunged at the boar thrusting his spear into its chest. The boar charged and ran up the shaft of the spear grunting in rage. He held tightly to the spear knowing that to be taken off his feet would mean injury or death. The boar closed and slashed with his tusks opening a wound in his left calf before expiring. He shouted in pain and surprise.

His uncle came through the reeds with his spear cocked for a throw, taking in the situation.

“How bad is it?”

“Not to the bone. No artery was hit. It is long but not very deep.”

“Can you walk?”

“Once we get to solid ground I can lean on my spear. I may need to lean on you till then. I want to keep the cut out of the mud.”

They made their way to shore. The wound was bleeding freely. His uncle rinsed the wound and bound it with a strip cut from his shirt. They made their way to the shelters as it started to rain. His mother looked up and led him to a mat near the fire.

“How bad is it?”

“A long gash. It will make a great scar.”

His mother poured water into a clay pot and set it to heat on the fire. The girl cousin rushed in and hugged him.

“Does it hurt?”

“It doesn’t tickle young one.”

“I hate the boar for hurting you.”

“Don’t hate him. He was doing what the mother created him to do. He charged what had hurt him even though he was dying. My spear was clear through him. He ran up the shaft to get to me. He was a courageous animal and will feed us. Can you do me a favor?”

“What do you need?”

“Take some of the young people, go to the boar and give him a last bite for me and thank the ancestors for helping me take him. Then dress him and bring him back to camp.”

The girl cousin left to gather people to go after the boar. His mother added dried yarrow leaves to the hot water and removed the pot from the fire. She soaked a piece of soft leather in the water and cleaned the wound.

“This part will hurt; I need to clean inside the cut.”

He nodded and stiffened as she gently rinsed the wound. Other women from the band had appeared and offered advice. They all agreed that the cut would need stitches to hold it closed.

“It’s a good thing I have new sharp needles.”

“I don’t think this is what she made them for, but I’m glad you have them.”

His mother found some fine linen thread and selected one of the smallest needles. One of the other women held the edges of the wound shut as she sewed. He sweated but didn’t make a noise. He took his mind to another place where he and his betrothed were sitting watching the sunset. He was able to move the pain to the back of his mind as his mother worked. When she had finished with the stitches, she made a poultice of the yarrow leaves and bound it over the wound. She rinsed the pot and put in more water and dried willow bark and returned the pot to the edge of the fire. When it had heated and steeped, she gave it to him.

“Willow bark?”

“For the pain.”

“It’s bitter, but it works.”

He drank the willow bark tea and lay back on the mat. He knew he was injured and would take time to heal. He was mature enough to know better than to rush into activity. He spoke to his mother.

“My betrothed will be wondering why I am not at her camp.”

“Your uncle has already set out to tell her what happened.”

“Alone?”

“Your father went with him. They will make good time.”

The fever came. He had been expecting it and was ready. He drank a lot of water, sipped the bitter willow bark, and slept when he could. His mother’s brother, one of his other uncles, helped him to the latrine when he needed to go. He was a powerful man and had taught him much about archery and bow making. The days blurred together as they do when a fever lives inside of you. His mother encouraged him to eat but he had no appetite. His way of fighting illness was to retreat inside himself and listen to his body. He knew it would be a while before he recovered and accepted what he could not change. The girl cousin was a regular presence beside his robes placing wet deer skin on his forehead. When he was awake he would smile at her and tell her not to worry. She worried. It was part of who she was to care deeply about those close to her. She had a compassionate soul. She was already part of the giving heart of the band and they loved her for who she was.

One night he was shivering under his sleeping robes. Just before he had been burning. It is the way of a fever. He felt a presence under the robes warming him. In the morning his head cleared and he found the woman holding him close. He faced her and saw the gray eyes that had taken his heart looking into his with worry and love.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You should eat. You have lost weight.”

“I will eat when it is time to eat. You didn’t have to come.”

“I go where I want.”

He slept with her nestled against him. In the morning they changed the dressing on the wound. It looked inflamed pulling at the stitches. His mother and the woman added yarrow leaves to water and heated it. They soaked deer skin in the solution and put hot compresses on the wound. Eventually the infection came to a head and his mother lanced it with a sharp stone knife. The next morning the wound looked less inflamed. The woman had brought honey. She and his mother put honey on the wound and wrapped it again. The wound began to heal and the swelling went down. He woke clear headed and hungry. He traced a hand down the woman’s belly as she slept watching her smile. He sat up. His mother was by the fire and he joined her.

“Drink this.”

It was soup made with meat, grains, and tubers. Everything was tender and the warmth spread through him. His mother nodded toward where the woman slept.

“You chose well. She walked here without stopping to sleep when she heard you were injured.”

“I knew the first time I saw her. She moved like part of the mother as she was hunting the gazelle. I am surprised she agreed to wed me.”

“I’m not. You have much to offer. You should have known that from the number of young women who were interested in you.”

“I was not interested in them. They pretended to be weak or acted silly. They were girls. That one is a woman. I wanted someone to stand with me until we join the ancestors.”

The woman had risen for the robes and sat beside him. He found himself looking into those bottomless gray eyes.

“I will.”

He began to eat more and to walk around the shelter leaning on his spear. The girl cousin often visited him. The next day she appeared with a leather wrapped bundle. She extended it to him and he unwrapped it. It was the boar’s tusks.

“I cleaned them for you.”

“I had not thought about them.”

“Some hunters wear them.”

“I have enough jewelry, but I will find a use for them. Thank you.”

Later he spoke to the woman about them and she took them.

He became restless and they knew he was out of danger. He stood in the shelter pulling his bow to let her know he had not for gotten her and regain his strength. Flocks of geese had begun to settle on the open water of the marsh. He and the woman along with the girl cousin went to the reeds and made a blind. He was not healed enough for a long walk but wanted to be outside. The three of them sat in the blind waiting for first light. The young one was trying not to show how excited she was. She was afraid she would do something wrong. He whispered to her.

“Be patient. The wind smells like rain, and it is getting colder. There is a good chance geese will land near us.”

The wind shifted and came out of the north and brought cold rain. The blind was dry enough. At first light they heard geese. As they waited, they heard geese land in the open water and begin feeding. When it became light, he carefully drew the bow and shot at a goose. The arrow had been carved from a single piece of wood and had a wide flattened bulb shaped end. It was designed to hit a soft target hard and would float. The rest of the geese continued feeding. He shot four more geese before the flock flew away. They sat for a while longer and no more geese landed. He withdrew a coil of cordage with a carved hook on the end from his pouch and used it to pull the geese and the arrows into the blind. He gave the geese their last bite and thanked the ancestors. As they were preparing to leave a group of geese came toward the open water. The girl cousin mimicked the calls the geese made and they flew toward the blind but did not land.

“You sound just like a goose.”

“When I am playing with the little ones, I pretend to be different animals. They think it’s funny.”

“It was good enough to almost fool those geese. You surprise me young one. We will come back and you can try again. Right now, I am cold and a bowl of soup sounds good.”

The woman spoke to the girl cousin.

“When I was your age, I hunted birds and small animals with a throwing stick.”

“Can you make one for me?”

“Your cousin and I can probably make one that will work for you.”

They returned to camp carrying the geese and entered the shelter. His mother was by the fire.

“You had luck.”

“It was a good day, but we got cold. I need to pluck and dress these birds. I want to save the wing feathers for arrow fletching. I promised to make some arrows for my uncle.” He indicated the girl cousin.

“That one speaks the language of geese.” The girl cousin mimicked the cry of geese landing and the sounds they make feeding.

“I can do other animals too.”

“Hunters will be lining up to take you with them young one.”

He dressed the geese setting aside the wing feathers for fletching. He had placed bundles of straight limbs in the top of the shelter where the heat of the fire would slowly dry them. Every few days he flexed them. They were almost ready to work into arrow shafts. They ate warm soup from the basket near the fire and dried their clothes. His mother spoke.

“How is the leg?”

“Stiff. But feeling better. I think the stitches can come out.”

His mother called two other women to the fire, and they removed the bandage from his leg. They agreed that it had healed enough for the stitches to come out.

While the woman held a fat lamp near the wound his mother carefully pulled the stitches up with a bent green stick. She cut each stitch near the knot with a stone flake and pulled them out with her teeth. It stung when the stitches were removed but he did not flinch. The girl cousin watched closely and spoke.

“Will you teach me about healing?”

“Of course. Every woman should know these things. Men often come back from a hunt with injuries.”

Another woman spoke.

“It’s not just men. Young ones seem to attract injuries when they are at awkward ages.”

His leg felt better with the stitches removed. He and the woman sat by the fire as evening fell. People gathered and his uncle sang a song about a girl would could talk to the animals. Stories were told and young ones wandered among the adults. He and the woman sat with a robe over their shoulders as she nestled against him. He had never been happier. When the fire burned down, they retired to their sleeping mat and pleasured each other. He held her close in the darkness feeling the rhythm of her breathing as she slept.

The next morning, he and the girl cousin left before dawn and waited in the blind for first light. A flock of geese flew near, and the girl cousin called them in. He was able to get one as they set their wings to land. They returned to the shelter after dressing the goose. The woman met them there. She held out a small package to the girl cousin.

“What is this?”

“Something for you.”

She opened the package and found a bracelet made from the boar’s tusks. The woman had drilled holes in them and laced them together so that they encircled the girl’s wrist.

“It’s beautiful, but I don’t deserve it. I didn’t kill the boar.”

He spoke.

“I killed the boar, so I get to say what happens to the tusks. When I was sick you stayed with me. You made sure that I had water and put cool hides in my forehead. Every time I woke up you were there. You have a good heart young one. I don’t forget those who stand by me.”

The girl cousin hugged him and then the woman.

“I will only wear it on special days.”

The woman spoke.

“I hope you will wear it on a special day this summer. I would like you to stand with me when I am wedded to your cousin at the gathering.”

The girl cousin had tears running down her cheeks.

“I will.”

She ran to her parent’s shelter to show them the bracelet.