Child of the Dead (21 page)

Her heart was heavy as she hurried to the patch of oak timber that had been the shelter for the deer. The snow was trampled and packed, with the recent dusting of new snow on top. It had been a good shelter, she saw. Even now, she could feel the warmth of the protection from the wind. There had been no protection from the hunters, though. Here and there, gnawed bones and bloody snow told the tale.

She turned to go and tripped over something buried in the snow. Irritated, she reached for the offending object. It was an antler, shed by what must have been a magnificent buck. Five well-shaped points and a small spur near the base. But since it had been already lost before the wolves came, it would have been ineffective in defense anyway. Protection was found in flight. She wondered if even that had been successful.

“I am sorry, my brother,” she murmured. “I needed your flesh worse than the wolves did, too!”

R
unning Deer waited and watched for deer to return, but there were none. She rationed the remaining food even more meagerly and gave most of it to the little girl. There were constant pangs in the pit of her stomach. Her buckskin dress hung loosely on her bony frame. There had been a time when that body had been one to flaunt with pride, she recalled. But that was a long time ago. It did not seem to matter much now.

She risked a shot at a squirrel in an oak behind their camp, and lost one of her precious arrows. Even worse, she missed the squirrel, and the hunger continued. She tried to estimate how long they could survive, and how long it might be until the Moon of Awakening. That would bring the thaw, and the creatures would begin to move around. Then the hunting would be easier.

Day after day, she tried to think of something that could be used as food. She watched the squirrels. They were said to store nuts, were they not? By this means she discovered a cache of acorns and hickory nuts in the hollow of a tree, and cleaned it out, down to the last shell. The nuts were hard to crack and to pick out, and the acorns too bitter to eat. Running Deer remembered, though, that some of the forest people to the east of the Sacred Hills used acorns.

She shelled the acorns, pounded the meaty kernels inside as she would pound corn, and then leached the
bitter acid out by repeated soaking and boiling. The resulting mush was certainly not to be compared to broiled buffalo hump, but it would keep body and soul together a little longer. She found herself wishing that they had gathered acorns during the Moon of Falling Leaves. But how could she have known?

The wolf pack had effectively cleared the area of deer. Even the other hunters were ranging far. One night the cry of a cougar split the darkness like the scream of a woman in torture. It made the hair stand on the back of her neck. Gray Mouse crept close and the dog, every hair erect from nose to tail, tried to crowd between them.

There are no deer to he hunted here
, she directed her thoughts at the great cat in the distance.
But come to look for us! Your flesh would be as good for us as ours for you!

They did not see the cat, but the next day she found tracks near the stream. It was not heard again. Running Deer was somewhat disappointed, and was made to think that maybe she had warned the cougar by her thoughts about trying to kill and eat it.

She did kill one turkey, shooting it out of a tree where she had seen it go to roost. The night was moonlit and she maneuvered under the roost to drop the big bird with an arrow. It furnished food for several days.

But then it too was gone. She began to think of the last resort, the one she had hoped not to use. The People had always used dogs as a food supply, and even raised them for the purpose. Originally the dog had been a beast of burden as well, before the horse. Many families still kept dogs just for the change in diet. A long winter on just the dried flesh of the buffalo created a hunger for fresh meat. In this case, any meat would be welcome. It was no longer a matter of hunger, but of survival.

Yellow Dog … The girl had become quite attached to the animal, and would miss him. She, Running Deer, would miss him. He had furnished warmth at night during the coldest part of the winter. But now his flesh was needed to sustain life in another way.

She pondered whether to try to explain to Gray Mouse before the slaughter of the dog. That would be a hard task. Maybe it would be better simply to go ahead.
While Gray Mouse slept, perhaps. A quick and sure blow with the small ax … skin and butcher quickly. Yes, that might be best. She could have meat broiling when Mouse awakened, and then explain the need for such action. But she was not happy about it, and would never be.

The day came. Yellow Dog was off making his daily rounds in a big circle around the camp. He stopped at each of his usual places to lift a leg and mark his territory. A rock by the stream, a tuft of grass in the meadow, a tree … At that point he always disappeared to circle around or through the patch of oak timber behind them. He would appear from the east to complete his circle.

Running Deer knew exactly where the dog would emerge from the bushes. It was always the same. She knew how long his circuit: would take. With a bit of sadness she picked up the ax, tucked her skinning knife in her waistband, and cast a glance at the sleeping child.

Sleep well little one
, she thought.
We will eat today
.

Her shrunken stomach rumbled at the thought, and she moved toward Yellow Dog’s path in the snow. He would come out of the bushes there, by the rock, and she would be waiting. He would come to her, and … She hoped that she could be quick and efficient. High on the head, between the ears … She was puzzled at her attitude. It had never been a problem before, and the traditional apology had sufficed to make her feel that … Well, everything has to eat something else, does it not?

She could hear the dog coming now, along his private trail through the thicket. He was moving more slowly than usual, it seemed. Maybe it was only because of her own concerns for the reaction of Gray Mouse to what was about to happen. Running Deer concealed the ax behind her and prepared to extend her left hand in greeting. Then, as Yellow Dog neared the opening in the thicket, she saw that he was carrying something.

The dog, man’s first domestic animal, is a social creature. He has, through the ages, developed a complicated relationship with man, which often reveals itself
in strange ways. Old instincts run strong. This includes that of bringing meat to the young at the den, or retrieving a part of the kill to share with the family-pack.

Maybe the sounds and smells, or the spirit of the wolf pack’s presence had been felt by this, their distant cousin. Yellow Dog had been kept tied during the presence of the wolves, to protect him against any inclination to join them. That would probably have been a fatal mistake.

Now he ran free. He stepped into the open, saw Running Deer, and ran happily toward her. The object in his mouth was a fat, freshly killed rabbit. Proudly, the dog dropped it at her feet and stepped back, tail wagging as he waited for the expected praise.

Tears came to the old woman’s eyes. She dropped the ax and fell to her knees in the snow, circling the neck of Yellow Dog with her arms. How could she have thought …?

In a little while she rose, picked up the gift, and they started back to the camp. Deer was thinking busily, planning how she would use the unexpected kill. They could broil the rabbit, sharing the head, feet, skin, and entrails with Yellow Dog. The bones would be used for soup … Not much, but better than nothing.

This in turn gave her an idea. Maybe she could find some marrow bones from the leavings of the wolves in the deer thicket. They would have been frozen, and could be cracked and boiled for soup. Yes, she wondered why she had not thought of that before. Maybe they could survive after all.

“Wake up, little one,” she called cheerfully. “Yellow Dog has brought us a gift, and we will eat!”

It was as if this incident provided a turning point. Things were better. It helped that her outlook was better, of course, and events began to fall into place. The wolves had left the area, and it was not long before the deer began to return. Running Deer stalked and killed a young buck and the three of them feasted.

With the first bite of warm raw liver as she butchered, the world seemed to come alive. Her body, starved for the life-giving juices, reacted with such joy that all seemed right. Gray Mouse, too, responded to this
springtime ritual, smearing her cheeks with the fresh blood. They laughed at each other’s “painted” faces. Yellow Dog gulped whatever scraps were tossed his way with enthusiasm.

After the first orgy of fresh liver, they began to slow down, and Running Deer placed some choice cuts of venison to broil.

“It is not as sweet as buffalo,” she told the girl conversationally, “but it is good!”

The next day, as if it were planned that way, a soft warming breeze began to ease its way from the south.

“Ah!” Deer muttered. “Sun Boy
is
coming back, after all.”

Gray Mouse giggled. “That is good, Grandmother, no?”

“Yes, very good.”

“What will we do now?”

“Wait for the snow to melt. Then, travel.”

“Where?”

The little voice was anxious, and Running Deer realized that they had not talked of the future at all. Since the two of them had been together, there had been little hope for a future. But now they had survived the spotted death, and the Moons of Long Nights and Starvation. She was made to feel that they could accomplish anything.

“We must find the People,” she said.

“Your people, Grandmother?”

“Yes, child. Your people are dead or gone, remember?”

The girl nodded soberly. “Will your people hurt me?”

“No, no, of course not!”

“They did not want me, before.”

Running Deer spread her arms and Mouse crept into her lap.

“That was different, little one. They were afraid.”

“Of
me?”

“No … well, yes. Of the
poch
, the spotted death that killed so many. They were afraid of me, too, remember? Those two men who came back and brought us meat? My own sons. Even they were afraid.”

“I do not remember that, Grandmother.”

“No, child, you were very sick. But now we are alive, and it is good.”

“Where are your people?” the girl asked.

“Ah, that we will not know. They have wintered on a river we call the Sycamore. But they will move, when the Moon of Greening comes. I am made to think that we should try to join them at the Sun Dance.”

“Where is that place, Grandmother?”

Running Deer laughed. “Not a place, really, Mouse. A time and a celebration. It takes place in the Moon of Roses, two moons from now. This is the greatest time of the year for the People. You will like it, Mouse! It celebrates the return of the sun, the grass, and the buffalo. There will be singing, dancing, feasting, races …”

The eyes of Gray Mouse were shining with the excitement that she saw in Grandmother’s face.

“Where will it be?” she asked eagerly.

Running Deer chuckled, half to herself. “Ah, child, that is why I laughed. I do not know. I let myself forget. I did not expect to be alive, so it did not seem important!”

I
t might seem that finding the People at the site of the Sun Dance would be a virtually impossible task. If the entire expanse of the vast prairie, stretching from the woodlands east of the People to the great mountains in the west … The width would be a whole season’s travel for an old woman and a child, even if they knew their destination. How could Running Deer hope to locate and then reach the camp of the Sun Dance by the time the whole nation gathered for the annual festival?

Several facts, however, would be of great help. The five bands of the People, now six with the joining of the New band, had long ago established the areas where they preferred to range. The Mountain and Red Rocks bands were expected to winter in those respective areas. The Eastern band favored the fringes of the woodlands to the northeast as a place to winter. There were French traders in that area, so the trading of furs was much easier. It was a dangerous area, with many different tribes of forest people moving in from the east. But then, the Eastern band had always done foolish things.