The effort took the last of his strength. His huge frame shuddered, and he dropped heavily to the ground, his head falling right at my feet.
I couldn’t avoid looking into the mammoth’s huge dark eye. Though his head lay half in snow and half in mud, he stared right into me. The dark iris was like a hole I’d fallen into. There was knowledge in that eye. Knowledge that he was about to die and that I was the one who had caused it. But there was no condemnation. Only defeat.
A sudden gust of wind comes down hard from the north, shoving me out of my memories and back to the present. The same gust hits you in the face and you grimace. It was warm lying in the grass—almost warm enough to encourage a honeybee to fly—but standing in the raw wind makes the day feel cold. My mother clears her throat. I realize that no one’s been introduced, and we’ve been standing staring at each other for a moment too long. I break the awkward silence by falling back on custom—I step forward and nod to the man in your group.
“I’m called Kol,” I say. “I am the oldest son of Arem and Mala.”
The man nods in reply, the irresistible current of custom pulling us along. “My name is Chev. I am High Elder of the Olen clan. This is my sister Seeri.” He motions to the first girl, and I smile but I doubt she notices. Her eyes are fixed on Pek. “And my sister Mya,” he says, motioning to you.
Unlike Seeri, you meet my gaze. Your eyes narrow and I hope this is a response to the wind in your face, but somehow I don’t think it is.
“This is our younger son, Pek,” my mother says, her eyes sliding to Seeri’s face as she steps forward to pat Pek on one of his huge shoulders, ensuring everyone notices Pek was built to hunt. She’s seen the connection between Seeri and my brother and she intends to encourage it. “You are lucky to have him with you today. He’s gifted with a spear, this boy. He’s—”
My father clears his throat. Mother’s eyes shift to me and I know what she had almost said—He’s the best hunter in the clan. It’s true, but since I’m the oldest, it’s probably not something my father wants her to say in front of guests. Not that it would matter. If you’re going to hunt with us, you’re going to find out anyway.
My father raises his eyes, judging the progress of the sun. “We should start on our way. The Divine has brought us strong hunting partners, and I suspect she may be sending more good fortune our way. If I am right, we will have a kill before the sun is high in the sky.”
My mother pulls at the collar of my father’s parka. He is stubborn and insists upon leaving it open at his throat on all but the coldest days of winter. He pushes her hand away, but he can’t stop his lips from curling at the corners. “Don’t fuss with us, Mala; we need to get on our way,” he says. “Besides, when we get back, you will have six hungry hunters to feed. You’ll need time to get the kitchen going for the midday meal.”
My mother used to join in on the hunts, but that was a long time ago. Now the clan kitchen has become her personal dominion. Knowing this, and knowing what your visit clearly means to my mother, I can only imagine the sort of meal we have to look forward to.
Mother gives nothing away. She simply shakes her head and turns to our guests. “Be safe,” she says. Then she pulls up the hood of her parka and starts back the way you all came.
Father defers to me to lead the way to the herd. I’ve been out here in search of hives every day since we last stalked mammoths—unsuccessfully—seven days ago. I know where the herd is gathered, just beyond the ridge that rises to the east.
I may be leading the way, but my father stays close behind. He makes sure he stays close to Chev, too. As we walk, my father explains features of the landscape and points out places where saber-toothed cats have been found to hide. This spring, these cats have become more active rivals for our game, but my father does not mention this. Pek walks almost shoulder to shoulder with Seeri, off to our right. I cannot see or hear you at all—not even your footfalls on the grass. I assume you are following at a distance, but I don’t dare turn my head to check.
Maybe the thought of hunting mammoths sickens you the way it does me. Maybe that’s the cause of your sullen silence. I doubt this is true, but I try to convince myself that it might be. More likely, there is a boy waiting for you in your southern camp and your head and heart are with him instead of with us. Or maybe you are thinking about what took place five years ago, the events that almost led our two clans to war. Perhaps you are reluctant to follow an armed enemy onto unfamiliar ground.