Zara the Wolf Page 2

  * * *

  Over the next couple of summers, I became proficient with my new sword, although I intentionally failed to use its real capability during my many matches. I could see a time coming when the fight would be real and my life might depend on being underestimated. I had discovered if I trapped a sword and quickly twisted, the pressure on my opponent’s hand would rip the sword lose. I had done it once but never again, although I had hundreds of opportunities. I could also use it to force my opponent’s sword upward, since it was trapped in my new guard, and approach close enough to stab him. Ironically, all the warriors carried knives in their belts, but we didn't use them to practice.

  The warrior used a short bow, accurate at about twenty paces, which was good for raiding and killing game from hiding. I struggled with the bow the warriors took so naturally, since they had begun practicing at a young age. They enjoyed teasing me when we practiced, as I seldom hit the target. What they didn't know was that I wasn't aiming at the target. At some point, I had discovered that a quiet mind—where the bow, arrow, and I were one—made it easy, and the arrows were going exactly where I aimed. That winter my warrior training ended.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The Testing

  "Nibi, Ayas, Kele, and Zara, you have reached the age of testing. At sunset you will begin your trial to be judged worthy or not to be a warrior of the Ojaza," Chua said as we gathered for our morning class. "Go prepare yourselves."

  The test was simple but not easy, and it was common for one not to return—eaten by the Snow God as unworthy—or to return early, thereby failing the test and spending the rest of his or her life just above the status of a slave. I collected my weapons, put on a summer shirt, pants, and shoes, and walked back to the sweat hut where the other three would join me. We would spend the rest of the day preparing ourselves, which meant praying to one or another of the animal spirits to protect us. I just sat with a quiet mind, naked and sweating like the others. Hours later, Chua appeared at the door.

  "Time to go. Get dressed," he said, inspecting each article of clothing before we put them on. We could only wear a summer shirt, pants, and shoes, as the trial was a test of the individual's survival skill—no food, and summer clothing in the dead of winter. After we had dressed, he inspected the weapons we had brought. When he was satisfied, he opened the door. It looked like the entire village waited to watch us leave. We were not allowed to team up, not that I wanted to, and I headed toward the mountain, whereas the other three headed toward the forest. Cold was the first enemy, and the nights would be the worst, so I needed shelter until I could find clothing. I thought most of the others would try raiding one of the other tribes or villages lower in the foothills. It took me all night and most of the next day to locate a cave large enough to moderate the outside temperatures. The rest of the day I spent examining the ground for animal tracks to determine what I might be able to catch for food and clothing. At dusk I located a small series of pools make by runoff from melting snow during the day. After rubbing myself with snow, leaves, and dirt to minimize my scent, I found myself a perch in a nearby tree and waited. It was fortunate the trial started and ended with a full moon, because otherwise I wouldn't have had enough light to target my prey. It was early morning when a small ground animal approached the pond. As it drank, I quieted my mind and shot. The arrow entered through its side and pinned it to the icy ground—an impossible shot if not for learning how to quiet my mind years ago: I was shivering from the cold and exhausted, having been up for two days.

  My belly ached from hunger, and I wanted to run down there, snatch up my food, and return to the cave to eat and rest. But I didn't. The first few days would determine if I would live or die, so I watched as scavengers began eating my food. Birds were the first to arrive, then lizards, then what I had hoped for—wolves. Resisting the urge to shoot, I quieted my mind and took careful aim at the largest one while waiting for a shot to the heart. There were three of them, and their fighting kept them moving. Eventually, the largest one backed the other two off and stood staring at them. I shot just as he moved. The arrow entered the chest but missed where I thought the heart would be. He screamed, whirring as he looked for his attacker. I nocked another arrow and shot one of the other wolves, which I hit in the neck. He stumbled only a few feet and dropped, although not dead. The third took advantage of the situation and grabbed the animal I had shot, ripped it loose, and ran off with the large male chasing him.

  I slowly lowered myself and almost collapsed when my leg cramped as I touched the ground. My head spun and my arm felt too heavy to lift. I forced myself to move toward the fallen wolf. He snarled as I approached.

  "You understand," I said to the wolf. "We do what we must to survive. At least you won't suffer." My sword slashed through his neck. I captured the blood pouring out his severed neck and drank. I gagged on the warm blood and felt like vomiting except I knew I needed food or I'd freeze to death. I still had much to do. I draped the young wolf around my neck and felt a wave of pleasure as the warmth of its body and blood seeped into my neck and shoulders. After a minute, I shook my head to clear it and began following the drops of blood. When dawn came, the tracks showed he was walking slowly, and it wouldn't be long. An hour later, I saw the birds circling overhead and knew I had finally caught up. When I arrived, the scavengers were picking at the body. There was no way I was going to be able to carry these two back to my cave so I began gathering twigs and started a fire. When I had the fire going, I cut off some meat from the young wolf’s thigh and cooked it. I don't remember ever having tasted anything so delicious. I craved sleep, but that would have to wait. I spent the next several hours separating the hides from the two wolves and cleaning them. When I finished, I wrapped the larger one's hide around me and sat close to the fire, feeling warm for the first time in days.

  I woke to a searing pain in my shoulder. When I opened my eyes, Nibi stood thirty paces away, notching an arrow, and I had one in my shoulder. I had been lucky. The wolf-robe had been draped over my head, and Nibi either misjudged where my heart was, or was as exhausted as me, or too excited to shoot straight. I rolled off to the side when he shot again, and the arrow sailed harmlessly by. He drew his sword and came running toward me, laughing as he came. I drew my sword and waited. Although there was plenty of meat for us both, I guess he didn't want to share it with a slave. That was fair. I didn't want to share it with warriors who had killed my father and mother. He slowed as he approached, smiling as he surveyed the meat and the hides.

  "I should thank you for all this, slave."

  Now came the real test of my ability and my special sword.

  "No, Nibi. You should curse me. If I hadn’t killed the wolf, you would probably have survived on roots and rats to become a cowardly Ojaza warrior. Now you are going to die."

  "Ehwee is providing me clothing and food for killing you." He laughed, pointing to the heavier clothing he was wearing.

  "I guess she thought you a better archer than you are," I said, because she knew he couldn't kill me with a sword. I quieted my mind to where neither fear nor wants existed, just the encounter to come. I was at peace with whatever the future held.

  When it came, his attack was a vicious strike to my wounded side. I blocked it, catching it in my guard, but the force slammed my blade into my shoulder. The pain caused spots to dance in front of my eyes. He slid the sword out of my guard and thrust toward my ribs. I blocked it with the guard covering my hand, driving it past my ribs, but I felt skin tear as it scraped my stomach. Too close to do anything but draw his arm back for an attack to my chest and neck, I stepped closer and slid my dagger into his armpit. He screamed, and his sword dropped to the ground as his arm went dead. As he stood staring wide-eyed at me, my sword sliced through his neck, spinning him to the ground.

  In a trance, I pulled out the arrow and used pieces torn from my pants to bandage both wounds. Then I undressed Nibi and dressed in his clothes, cut off a thigh from the wolf, collected the two hides,
and started back to my cave. I don't remember the trip back or what happened next. When I woke and could think again, I found myself wrapped in the wolves' furs. I had apparently made a fire or two and had cooked some of the meat. But an animal of some kind had finished the rest down to the bone, which lay several steps away. My wounds looked like I had cauterized them. They looked ugly and raw but not infected. I needed water. My lips felt like bark. I collected everything and made my way back to the spot where Nibi and I had fought. It took the entire day, as I had to stop and rest frequently and had to go out of my way to find running water. When I arrived, there were still small scavengers cleaning up, but everything else remained the same. Ants and bugs roamed Nibi by the thousands, and he was unrecognizable. I put an arrow through a dog that refused to leave, cut off a leg, skinned it, and roasted it over a fire I made a hundred steps from Nibi and the wolves’ remains. I slept by the fire, content with knowing the smell of wolf from the skins and the fire would keep me relatively safe—except from humans. I woke as the sky turned grey and explored the area. Around noon, I found a fast moving river that looked to end in the valley below. I made several trips back and forth to get Nibi and cleanup the area. After stripping him, I sent him and his weapons into the river and watched as he bounced over and around boulders until he was out of sight. Reluctantly, I also sent his clothing after him. Ehwee would know I killed him but couldn't say anything without admitting she violated the tribes code by giving Nibi food and clothing—no one would care she wanted me dead. Then I had to decide what I was going to do next. I couldn't return to the tribe until the next full moon, but I had several hands-of-days lead if I wanted to escape now. I decided I wasn’t fit to enter civilization right now. How fast could I travel in my current condition? What would the reaction be to a woman wandering in a wolf skin, wounded, and carrying Indian weapons? They could mistake me for a runaway warrior and hang me on the spot. They hated the mountain tribes, so there was no way to know how they would react.

  * * *

  I decided to use this as an opportunity to put to use what the tribe had taught me and the other would-be-warriors about surviving in the wilderness while I rested and regained my health. I collected roots and plants to supplement the small game I trapped or shot. I made myself leggings from the young wolf and a coat from the older male—leaving the head on to lie on mine. I made a snow shelter and stayed a few days, stayed in caves, and slept in trees. And I studied the habits of the animals I came across. I was sorry when the next full moon arrived. It took a hand of days to make it back to camp. Ehwee didn't look happy to see me. I gave no indication of knowing what she had done. Chua was amused when he saw me with the wolf's skin.

  "We don't seem to be able to get rid of you, Zara the Wolf," he said, giving me my warrior name, which was then tattooed on my neck: a wolf’s head with a flowing main surrounded by curvy lines with sharp ends. The head defined my tribal name while the curvy lines designated me a warrior. The number of lines and points somehow related to the warrior’s war experience. A new warrior, like me, received two main lines with two sharp ends extending from each. Older warriors had as many a six lines with four sharp ends each.

  I spent the next month building a hut, which was my right as a warrior. I was now free to wander the camp at will and to sit in at any gatherings, which I did—I was a spy, and the more I knew the better. People talked to me, but I was still pretty much ignored since I didn't cause any trouble.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The Raid

  A handful of moons later, the snows had receded and the three chiefs called for a gathering of the tribe. The head chief, Tasunke, raised a pole adorned with symbols and animals carved into the wood that proclaimed him the leader of the Ojaza.

  "We are in need of many things for the winter to come: sheep, cloth, grain, and entertainment for our bored warriors," he shouted, and received roars of approval. "Chief Ahote will lead a party of a hand-of-hands and one to the lowlands in the south, and Chief Tocho a party of a hand-of-hands and one to the lowlands in the north. New warriors Ayas the Cat and Kele the Badger will accompany Ahote, and warrior Zara the Wolf will go with Chief Tocho."

  I put my right fist to my heart in acknowledgement of his seniority. I smiled to myself. This may be the perfect opportunity to find my freedom. Of course, it might be the perfect opportunity to have me killed if I don't meet Tocho's expectations. I doubted they trusted me—warrior status or not.

  Tocho turned out to be a good leader, not that I was an expert. He called all the warriors who would be accompanying him and went over the details of the raid: the route we would travel, the farms and cities he knew about, and the ones he expected to raid after they had scouted the area and updated their maps, the items of primary importance, and the order of our retreat. From the talk afterward, I gathered the tribes had never raided this far into the lowlands in recent memory, and everyone was excited.

  We left the next morning. Only four warriors had horses: Chief Tocho, a woman warrior who would be responsible for any slaves taken, and two warrior scouts. The rest of us would be on foot. Since any warrior could run a horse to death, it was hardly a limiting factor. It took a hand-of-days to reach the lower mountains and another hand-of-days to reach the northern foothills. We skirted two small villages, which Tocho would probably raid on the way back as we continued onto the open plains. We broke up into small parties and scouted the land for the next two-hands of days before returning for orders. Tocho listened to what each team had found and carefully updated his map before deciding on a course of action. He finally chose two small communities which had the livestock we needed, stockpiles of food for the winter, and horses to move the loot. Each community consisted of about two-hands of menfolk. Tocho split us into two groups of three-hands each and elected to accompany the group I was assigned. Both groups would strike two days from now at noon when everyone would be out in the fields working and easy prey. To delay any possible pursuit, no one was to be left alive.

  * * *

  We lay in a wooded area a one-minute fast run from the field many of the people were currently harvesting. The compound had a small fence surrounding it and three guards with swords, but I doubted they or the men coming and going from the fields with weapons were as well trained as the warriors. I quieted my mind. I couldn't make a plan since I didn't know what would happen. This community wasn't going to overpower the warriors, so I would have to wait for the right opportunity. I knew Tocho would be watching me closely and probably so would others. This was a test for me, of that I was sure.

  At noon, Tocho waved and everyone rose and began running. I was assigned the compound and ran in that direction. I smiled as the group slowly moved several steps in front of me, not unexpectedly. I had never been able to keep up with the warriors. So I was the last one to reach the gate. By then, the three guards were dead and the warriors were spreading out and entering the four buildings. I followed two warriors through a corral into a large barn, which formed part of the compound’s protective fence. When I arrived, a man lay dead on the floor. One of the two warriors was putting collars on two small children while the other was ripping the clothes off a woman. He pointed to the warrior with the children.

  "Help Skah with the children, Zara," he said. I sliced through his neck as I passed on the way to Skah. Still struggling with a young boy, he never saw the sword as it severed his neck.

  "I knew you couldn't be trusted, Zara. Sneaky like the wolf you are named."

  "Lady, light that lantern if you wish you and your children to live," I said as I prepared to fight Tocho, hoping his standard language was poor. I'd never heard him use it. The woman surprised me by how quick she responded, considering the circumstances. The thought of her children dying probably helped motivate her. As I reached her, I grabbed the lantern as Tocho turned and whistled for help. I threw it over his head toward the front of the barn. It exploded when it hit the floor, and the oil soon had the hay on the floor in flames. The fire spread qu
ickly. In less than a minute, the entrance was engulfed in flames and no one could enter.

  "Guess it's you and me, chief. A farmer's daughter and a great chief of the Ojaza tribe," I said, feeling calm. One way or the other, I was finally free. He looked nervously over his shoulder at the fire blocking the entrance and quickly creeping toward him. Then he got that crazed look the warriors get when they are racing through a village killing and destroying lives. He took several half-running steps and lunged at me, throwing all his weight behind a cut to my ribs. I made no attempt to stop it, just met it with my sword so his slid into my guard and was trapped. The powerful stroke drove my arm and sword into me, and pain shot through my side and shoulder. As his momentum carried him into me, my dagger slid under the padding at shoulder and neck, into his throat. Blood spattered in my face, and his weight pushed me stumbling backward, leaving him to collapse onto his knees then his face. When I looked around, the woman was taking the collar off her youngest boy.

  "Is there a cellar in the barn?" I asked, knowing my father had an underground pit where he stored food for the winter. She stared at me awhile, clutching her two children to her. Couldn't blame her, I must have looked like any blood-crazed warrior. "Your children's lives depend upon you thinking clearly."

  "Yes." She pointed to a stall toward the end of the barn. By now the four cows and two horses were frantic with panic as the flames grew higher and the heat intensified. "You and the children need to hide there, and don't come out until morning. They will be gone by then. I'll try to return, if they don't catch me."