LAKE OF THE SWANS
Book 2 of 3
Chapter 57
The family traveled ever northward, pressing on through the long days of summer until they came to autumn’s doorstep. Their flotilla had taken them far through a connected system of lakes, rivers, and slews until, at last, necessity had forced them to continue on foot. A sense of urgency gripped them, for as every creature of the north understood, winter was on the approach, and woe be it to those caught ill-prepared. Their days were exhausting not only from hurried travel but from all that came with it—hunting, gathering, processing, mending, and maintaining—and always, the hope that when at last they found the forest’s end, they would also find the caribou of the barren lands, that they may build a shelter in time to escape winter’s wrath with a reliable food source to see them through the long dark months.
They may have lost heart had they not found signs to inspire them along the way. For example, when the north breeze came through the valleys and the leaves rained down from the aspens, they saw it as a warning from above—their Creator’s way of telling them not to tarry. At the same time, a path paved in golden leaves through a basin awash in autumn’s glory was interpreted as a promise from above.
Fortunately, our clan of hunter-gatherers lived in a climate slightly warmer than the previous millennia, a climate that favored a slightly richer flora on which the herbivores of the epoch prospered. Woodland buffalo, woodland caribou, moose, elk, and other large animals lived in great numbers. Ponds and streams, although no longer navigable through connection, were nevertheless everywhere and teeming with fish. Naturally then, the family had ample resources (so long as they kept moving, due to having thirty-one carnivorous mouths to feed). It helped that there were well-worn trails, extensive trails from decades of significant animal traffic; trails that led north, for that was the general lay of the land due to the gentle valleys running north and south, sculpted by glaciers eons before.
And so it was with the skill of pathfinding, the art of living, and plain old good fortune—the family proceeded into late autumn where, at long last, the forest began to wane.
The days that followed brought a strange transformation, all in a dusting of wind and snow. There were no more deciduous trees, only evergreens. And among them, even the jack pines, those towering kings of the forest, were reduced in size until, alas, they were no more than dwarfs—frosty little trees no taller than men, huddled on the wind-battered shores of an expanse so barren and vast, it appeared the end of the earth.
Gazing into it, the humans were at a loss for words. They knew they would soon have to enter it. They retreated into the transition zone, closer to the protection of the forest proper where, gathering their courage, they took stock in their achievement. They had found the end of the forest. They had found the barren lands.
“Perhaps we will see them today,” said John, speaking of the caribou as he offered his hand to his wife, that she might negotiate a small rock ledge on a path leading up a gradual incline through a stand of dwarf pines.
“I’ve got this,” refusing his hand.
“You’re just like your grandmother,” John thought to himself.
Cody appeared on the trail ahead, “Hey guys…what’s the holdup?”
“Have you become more clueless than usual?” Laureal asked, lifting her eyes from the ledge, “I’m nearly nine months with child.”
“And cranky too,” Cody quipped, turning back to the way ahead.
Going on Harley’s advice, John remained silent, his hand yet extended to her.
“I just needed to get away from camp for a while,” accepting her husband’s hand and, with his help, stepping up the ledge.
With only a few weeks to go, mounting pelvic pressure, back pain, and related aches and spasms had made it difficult for Laureal to get a good night’s sleep. She could not be blamed for wondering if her baby had gotten too big. Fortunately, she had her mother and grandmother to assure her that such feelings were perfectly normal and, in fact, although very unpleasant, it was a good sign that her child kicked her ribs like a mule, as John would say.
Moving slowly, they had a half-mile further to go. A long and gradual incline on relatively easy terrain, the path ended atop a north-facing bluff where a small animal-blind of stones, limbs, and boughs had humorously been dubbed ‘the watch-tower.’ From atop the bluff, the watchtower looked out over the barren lands to the north where the family hoped to spot caribou returning from their summer breeding grounds along the Arctic Coast.
Presently inside the blind, Rutin peered out with the eyes of a huntsman. He then returned his gaze to Emma. Her smile appeared that of a girl nestled against him. He had his free arm around her—the pair of them together in a large buffalo blanket.
“All these little dwarfs,” said Emma, speaking of the pines, “I think they must be the bravest of all trees.”
“Oh, and why’s that?”
“Because, here they are atop this bluff prepared to face winter’s full might, and save for the One that made them, no one is here to know of their heroic stand.”
“We’re here,” breaking into a smile.
Amused in the fondest sense of the word, Rutin turned to peer out over the barren plain. The season’s first snowfall had melted away, allowing for one final look at autumn’s palette on the transition zone. Groups of dwarf pines stood here and there amid the tundra, itself a carpet of tiny shrubs, mosses, arctic grasses, and herbs. Patchy prairie mantles of red, yellow, and green. Nothing bright at that time of year but only earthy illustrations of life’s tenacity.
“If the caribou don’t come soon,” Rutin began, “we’re going to have to make some difficult decisions.”
“I know,” repositioning herself, that she might have a look out on the plain.
“Hey, what do we have here?” said Rutin.
Emma craned to see, “Where?”
“There,” Rutin replied, pointing to a cluster of dots moving out of the dwarf trees and onto the plain. A small herd of woodland buffalo had come to feed on grasses and moss. They had fled the area after the clan's arrival only to return, unable to resist the tundra grasses in their quest to put on as many pounds as possible before the snows came in earnest.
“Oh, happy sight!” exclaimed Emma.
Just then, a youthful voice came from the trail behind the shelter, “Grandma.”
“Yes dear, I’m in here.”
Cody, having come to take his shift in the watch tower, bent to peer into the entrance at the back while Dexter, Riley, and Star, now nearly full-grown dogs on leashes, wagged their tails around him, “Is it alright if Rowe keeps me company?”
Emma glanced at Rutin, her eyes telling her thoughts. Important business awaited back at camp, and yet, she and Rutin had taken the liberty of pairing up for a well-deserved break together. Obviously, the kids had noticed and now wanted to do the same.
“No,” she replied.
“Why not, Grandmother?”
“You know why. You and Rowe are not to be alone, not without a chaperone.”
Rowe peered around from behind Cody, “John and Laureal are coming up behind us.”
“Oh really? And who else is coming?”
“No one else, Grandma. Laureal said she needed a break. So she and John hit the trail. I figure they’ll return with you and Rutin. Then I can take my turn at the watch, and Rowe can keep me company, same as you’ve kept Rutin company.” Cody stepped back and out of the way as his grandmother ducked out of the entrance.
“Your sister,” Emma began, “is too pregnant to remain away from camp, but if John agrees to it, he can stay here with you and Rowe, but only for a little while, as he is needed in camp. And Rowe, you will have to return to camp with him.”
Glancing at Rowe, Cody’s eyes told of his disappointment. The Matriarch had shot down his plan to be alone with his girl.
No more has Elkhart come out of the blind to stand beside Emma, than John and Laureal appeared on the trail behind the lookout. The young couple came slowly up the gentle slope, weaving between stands of dwarf pines.
“John,” Emma began, “would you mind sitting with Cody and Rowe for an hour? And after that, if you would, please escort Rowe back to camp.”
Emma would not allow Rowe to walk the path alone for obvious reasons. For one, it was late autumn, a time when Grizzly bears entered a feeding frenzy (known as ‘hyperphagia’ in 21st century science). And secondly, there were other predators to worry about, like wolves, and to a lesser degree, wolverines.
Fortunately, the clan’s presence in the area for the past two weeks had significantly lowered the odds of unwanted encounters, as the predators understood that a new danger had moved into the neighborhood—they walked on two legs, a seriously nasty gang of critters, to be avoided at all costs.
So it was, the law had been laid down by Rutin and Emma two weeks before—no one was to walk the path to the lookout alone, and the rifle was to remain with the person in the lookout.
Presently, Laureal looked from her husband to her grandmother, “I’ll stay too.”
“No,” firmly, “you are already too far from camp.”
Laureal let out a sigh even as she dared not argue.
While Emma spoke to John, Laureal, and Rowena—Elkhart pointed the woodland buffalo out to Cody, “Looks to be the same herd.”
“They’re back!” Cody exclaimed. “One, two, three…looks to be fourteen of them.”
The clan-size herd of buffalo, having advanced onto the barren plain, grazed below a low-hanging cloud bank, one in a series of cloud banks arranged in ranks that, together, cast the plain in shadow while, far out in the midst of the expanse, a veil of rain hung like a lonely broom, sweeping the horizon.
Gazing on this spectacle, Cody’s young eyes caught a nearly indiscernible movement. His brows knitted as he focused his vision. Perfectly motionless, he remained so only a moment longer before turning to Elkhart with urgency—
“Something’s coming!”
“Where?” asked Elkhart, keen to the boy’s sudden intensity.
“There, in the lull between those hills!”
“I can’t see anything.”
“John! Come look!”
Stepping beside the Cody, John looked into the empty expanse.
“Out there,” Cody pointed, “can you see it?”
“I don’t see anything,” squinting, “No, wait…I do see something!”
Eight miles away in a valley so shallow as to be nothing more than a lull, the very ground itself appeared to crawl. John focused his every atom, fearing it was only a mirage. But it wasn't a shimmer like the winter heatwaves that appear above farm fields. Nor did it sway like waves of grass in a summer breeze. Rather, it moved in and out of unison, at once helter-skelter and yet smooth and steady—it had a rhythm all its own. It was not a mirage he saw but, a forest of antlers.
The Seeker turned to the others, “The caribou have arrived!”
“Truly?” Emma asked, quick to step forward.
“Yes, and there are thousands of them!”
Emma turned to Cody, “Go and get Mr. Onak. Go quickly!” Then, turning to the Seeker, “John, go with him, please. I don’t want him running the path alone.”
Back at the family’s base camp, Harley sat flint-knapping a spearhead with a frown on his face.
“What’s the matter?” Jessie asked, even as she knew the answer.
Harley put his work down and stood up, “We have to make a decision,” looking from one family member to the next. “Maybe the caribou will come, maybe they won’t, but winter will come, and look at our camp, a few tents, a couple of lean-tos, and a wind wall if it can be called that. Soon, we will hunt this area out. The dogs will be the first to suffer. They will not be strong enough to pull the sleds, which we have yet to build because we do not know if we are staying or going.”
Harley’s frustration was well-founded, for until they found the caribou, they could not make a permanent camp, and without a permanent camp, they could not survive the winter, not that far north.
Splitting firewood, Anders stuck his ax in the top of a log and turned to Harley, “What do you propose we do?”
“I wish I knew?” Harley replied in frustration. “If we build a cabin, we will have protection from winter, but we will exhaust our food supply. If we move our camp along the forest line in search of returning caribou, we will find food as we go, but we will have no protection from the blizzards that are sure to come.”
With a half-finished arrow shaft in his hands, Onak looked up from his place at the fire. Their eyes had fallen on him. He was the one who had led them there. He had done his best by the sun and stars to guide them to where he hoped the caribou would be, but in truth, it had been guesswork and prayers on his part, driven by his great desire to be home free.
“If we build a cabin now,” began the Inuk, “and the caribou do not come…then we will have to find them and build another cabin where they are.”
Sophie, who was just then helping Mia with the fabrication of winter mittens, lifted her eyes to her mother, “Mommy, are we going to have to live outside again, like we did last winter?”
“No, dear. We will build a cabin, or a second cabin, or a third, for that matter.” Mia then turned her gaze to the others, so that all could see she darn well meant what she said.
Until then, Fischer had kept his eyes to his work, making thread from sinew. Now he glanced around at the others, “I propose we wait for our Patriarch and Matriarch,” his tone an appeal to logic. “Certainly they have gone off to discuss this very matter, and are sure to return any minute now. And if by chance they are not yet decided on a course of action, we can implore them to decide this very day.”
“What action?” asked Julian, stepping from the trees, a load of firewood in his arms.
Before anyone could answer, a shout came from the trail that led to the lookout, “THE CARIBOU HAVE ARRIVED! THE CARIBOU HAVE ARRIVED!”
Onak jumped to his feet as Cody came running into camp. “How many?”
“A thousand at least!” replied the boy, gasping to catch his breath.
John came directly behind Cody, “Mr. Onak, sir, you have led us to the exact spot!”
“Praise God!” cried Jessie, rising to her feet.
“I didn’t do all that much," Onak said to John, “save to hope and pray.”
“And your prayers have been answered,” Jessie joyfully responded.
Cody looked to the Inuk, “Rutin and Emma are asking for you, sir.”
“Let’s all go!” exclaimed Julian.
“You go ahead,” said John.
“Don’t you want to come?”
“I promised Laureal our child would be born in a cabin.” And with a sheepish grin, he added, “As of today, I’m all out of excuses.”
Harley picked up an ax. “We can start building at once.”
“Agreed,” said Anders, taking his ax from the log where he’d left it.
“Count me in,” said Julian, looking to his mentor, taking it as a matter of honor.
Anders looked to his protégé, a knowing smile in his eyes, “Go to the watchtower, my young friend. See the caribou and, on this day of good news, see that everyone returns safely to camp.”
While John harnessed Ellie for a trip south to harvest logs, Harley fetched a tool case consisting of two oak planks, five feet long, paired and bound together with leather straps, their inner faces hollowed out to fit the form of the tool within. He lifted his eyes to Anders as he opened the case, “It would be hard to count the hours this has saved us.”
If for only a moment, both men stood admiring the two-man crosscut saw. Winter was nearly upon them. They needed shelter fast, and there lay the saw like a magic sword. Rutin and Emma had purchased the saw before leaving the Lake of the Swans. Be it by luck or providence, a team of Voyageurs had brought the saw to the lake just one day prior to the family’s departure. The people had crowded the bazaar to see it, whereby a bidding war ensued between several prominent clans. A small fortune had been paid, but the saw’s value had been realized while building the raft.
While the three men went off to harvest logs, the rest of the family came together at their lookout atop the bluff.
“How many do you suppose there are?” Noah asked Cody.
“At least a thousand.”
“What you see,” Onak began, “is not even a hundredth of the full herd.”
“How can that be?” in disbelief.
“They have already split into many groups. Three or four weeks ago, when they crossed the heart of the barren lands, they were a million strong.”
Sophie tugged at her mother’s jacket, “Mommy?”
“Yes.”
“Now that we are to have all the warm clothes and porridge we need, are you and Anders going to get married?”
Laughter went around.
“What’s so funny?” asked Sophie, her eyes demanding an explanation.
“Your logic,” Laureal replied in laughter. “It’s spot-on.”
Speaking sweetly to the child, the Matriarch’s tone reflected her good mood, “Half of us have no proper clothes for winter, and the men have only begun on our house. But the caribou are here, and so you see, it is our good fortune that there is much to do. And when it is done, we will have all the more reason to celebrate.”
Although tempted to ask when the work would be done, Sophie checked herself. She already knew the Matriarch’s standard answer for such questions: ‘It will be done when it’s done. It will be ready when it’s ready. It will be time when it’s time.’
Noah pointed out over the tundra, “Looky!”
The plains below, dotted with grazing caribou, lie in shadow except for a great swath of sunshine, which in turn illuminated a long stretch of tundra, causing it to stand out in stark contrast. And just there, in the midst of the illumination, the leg of a rainbow extended down from the clouds, seemingly touching the earth below. And of course, Emma declared it a sign.
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