Heading North

Though I chased it away several times for following me, the small sleen continued to trail me at a distance during the day. At night it would come closer to the fire, but only to the edge of the shadows that remained. After a hand of watching it shiver in the night as it slept at the very edge of the of the circle of light cast by the fire, I relented; and began placing a well worn fur by the fire before bedding down for the night myself.

I had awakened the following morning to find it curled up on the fur. It was soon after this that began talking to the animal; I would rise of the morning, grasp the fur and yank it away without warning, tumbling the growing sleen from the comfort of where it had lain curled for warmth, telling it to "get up and go hunt!"

Often I told the animal "I am a Hunter, and will eat you if I ran out of fish" as I tossed it a portion of what I ate. After several days, I no longer simply tossed its share to it; I would tap my hand with a portion of the dried fish in my fingers along the side of my right leg near the calf first, then place it upon the ground near my foot. "I might eat you and be done with it anyway," I told it, "you remind me of that damned woman."

I could not help but notice that the pup had turned its head at my words to look back in the direction we had come from, before slinking away into the darkness beneath the trees. "Yes, that damned woman" I called after it as it faded away silently among the shadows.

I wondered what made it turn its head; had it heard something and gone to investigate the source of the noise? Had it known who I meant; did it remember her; did it recall that the same woman who had killed its parent, had also caged it? "No. It can't be", I told myself as I huddled within the shroud of fur, wrapping myself in my own arms for warmth.

As I moved to settle my hands at my elbows the palm of my right hand brushed over the scar upon my left arm where she had cut me. My eyes narrowed, my teeth clenched, my fingertips traced the deep mark upon my flesh; yes, THAT damned woman. I began to wonder just how smart the sleen pup was.

"I am glad to be rid of her, and her damned bag of stinking herbs and miserable cooking', I told myself. "You should return to her" a small voice within me whispered softly. "Yes, and slap her," I scoffed with a snort of derision. "Slap her? Beat her, you mean!" I had insisted to myself. "Beat her, like a war drum. Sound the dread tattoo upon her firm round ass!" I suggested to myself with a readiness that surprised me. "Her ass, is not to be discussed! It is mine!" I spat back at myself angrily as I shook my head from side to side.

"It is time for the collar," I spoke solemnly to myself. I shook my head slowly, fully agreeing that the moody bitch did deserve the collar. In anger I rose to my feet and turned away from myself mumbling "you guys shut up."

I walked to the fringes of the light before the shadows drawing the cloak closer around my shoulders. I stood there looking out in the direction the sleen had looked. "It is smarter than you, it has gone back to her" the quiet voice whispered softly in my ear. "This sleen is not so smart as I had hoped. Go back to the fire with the others" I retorted as my eyes searched the shadows for something I refused to name.

I told myself it was only a noise, and the pup would investigate it. Everywhere I looked in the darkness beyond the ring of firelight, I saw only gold flakes glittering from within deep chocolate hued pools.

I heard a faint rustling of the leaves to my left, as soft as the wind upon grass; I focused cold blue green which held the sheen of ice within them upon the direction of the sound. I saw the runt with the remains of a rather large tree urt. I had the urt firmly within its maw, grinding its head and shoulders between full double rows of teeth glistening with blood.

It dragged much of the sizable urt alongside itself, moving quickly and elegantly upon its six strong thick legs. I was glad to see it was feeding itself. "I see you've had her cooking too" I remarked casually, as the faint turn of a wry smile swept over my lips.

I watched the darkness of the forest night gradually give way to softer, richer hues of purple as the dawning began. My hands moved to my waist, tucking my thumbs into the strong belt of woven reeds. My fingers rolled into position around the belt gripping it firmly between rough hands; my left hand moved to the knot which held it about my hips. With a determined tug I cinched the simple knot more securely; my decision had been made; if after the Hunt, she yet remained alive, and could be found, I would take her whether she liked it or not, by means of the collar.

The first thing I would do would be to shake those stinking herbs of hers into the fire and burn the bag too. Then, I would train her as I liked; preparing her to live on the Tundra with me in the following season.

I turned away from my thoughts, the decision was made; I returned to the area of the fire and began to gather, then pack my gear. Assembling my warm season gear was basic, quick and easy; my hands did not need thoughts to remind them what a lifetime of hunting and survival had taught them.

My bedding folded neatly in half became the ground blanket upon which all else would be packed and rolled securely within. This neat bundle was then placed upon a sturdy wooden frame and lashed in place among the other bundles of various things I carried when trekking.

Lashed securely to the frame were other bundles of things, some personal and some not. I carried only a few sentimental things in my skin of personal belongings; the leathers she had made for me with her own hands, folded carefully, and rolled neatly around one of the two matching urt skull whistles I had made for us from the remains of our first shared meal.

I was not fond of looking at that particular bundle, precious though were it's contents to me. It was lashed low upon the frame, among the dried provisions where it was not needed daily. Here, it was out of my way, it did not need to be unpackaged daily; I could forget about its contents for the time being.

Also upon the frame was a firmly padded and tightly wrapped bundle of spearheads, which I had made as proof of my word for the settlement of a wager. In a separate smaller leather roll were a few various daily tools for use as trade goods; simple things, needles and awls, a pair of sharp stone blades, palm sized chunks of fire making stone, and a few pretty stones and shells cast from the stream beds upon the shoals.

These few simple goods were what I considered my bonafides bundle. They were hand made, of Forest materials; these traits were unmistakable. They each told a tale and were proof of my story; that I am as you see me. I have been where I have been, and done these things with my own hands. I have lived, as you see me now; the life of a Hunter.

The final outer covering of all my gear was the well tanned pelt that I allowed the sleen I had named Nunuqi, to sleep upon by the fire at night. I lifted it from the ground and shook it out before turning the fur in upon my pack and lashing it down with the leather turned out as a water covering.

I ground out the last of the fires coals, breaking them into small pieces and spreading them away from each other in the bottom of the small, neatly dig hole where it had burned. Refilled the hole with soil, packing it down firmly before scattering the ring of stones in all directions , and raking leaf litter over the cool soil. I lifted the frame, stepped into it and settled it on my shoulders; hefting my spear, I traveled North.