QUILLER
Early afternoon sunlight glitters on the snow-dusted trail. The black rocks and boulders that line the path have melted out into circles, creating a mosaic of light and dark that’s very pleasing to my eyes. As the tide comes in, a narrow strip of water has escaped the zyme and waves rush back and forth over the shore.
Ahead of me, Jawbone and RabbitEar run hand in hand through the surf, leaping slithers of zyme. Jawbone is laughing.
“Good jump,” RabbitEar praises. “I swear your legs are longer than they were one moon ago.”
“And I’m much taller.”
“Yes, you are. And stronger. You’re not going to have any problems climbing the wall.”
Jawbone casts a frightened glance over his shoulder, and at first I think he’s looking at me, but he’s not. He’s looking past me, as though he sees someone walking behind me.
Turning, I search for anything that might have scared him. “Did you see someone?”
“No, Mother.”
But he quickly reaches into his belt pouch. When he pulls out the buffalo charm Elder Hoodwink made for him and holds onto it, I search the trail again.
“Father, look, a dire wolf’s tracks!” Jawbone races ahead to bend over the snow.
“I see that,” RabbitEar responds. “Does he have his pack with him?”
Jawbone searches each mark in the snow that might be a track, and at last shakes his head. “No, he’s a lone wolf.”
“That’s right. Why do you think he’s alone?”
Jawbone straightens and thinks about it. “His paws are smaller, so he’s a yearling. His mother must have new pups, and she won’t let him nurse anymore.”
“Yes, but there’s another reason, too.” RabbitEar looks down expectantly, and the crow’s-feet around his eyes deepen.
“Probably . . .” Jawbone seems to be considering his options. “The bigger males in the pack beat him up. Just like the boys in the village beat me up, because I’m smaller.”
RabbitEar ignores the comment. He’s taught Jawbone how to fight, but Jawbone is too small to hold his own with the bigger boys. “It’s mating season. The other males don’t want any competition, so this young wolf is off on his own until he can find another pack who needs a strong male like him.”
“And he’d better be a good hunter and prove he can drag home something to eat, or his new pack will kick him out, too.”
“Yes, they will.” RabbitEar’s wolf-hide cape flaps with the sea breeze as he ruffles Jawbone’s blond hair.
Jawbone looks away, as though he can’t bear to look into his father’s eyes, and conscientiously blots out the wolf’s pawprints with the toes of his boots. “Without his pack, I’ll bet he’s scared. There are many prides of lions who will hunt a lone wolf.”
“That’s true. But don’t worry about him. I’m sure he’ll find a new pack soon.”
When we round the curve in the shoreline, the quest wall looms ahead of us, and Jawbone stops dead. I’m watching his back when he starts to breathe hard.
The sheer basalt cliff rises one thousand hands-lengths high. Snow frosts the ledges, but the steps chopped into the stone are filled with shadows. The trail is clear, slithering up the cliff face in a line of black dots, heading for the three gaping cracks where children sleep each night.
Jawbone turns and gives me a panicked look. I can taste his terror, like a copper pebble in my mouth.
“Mother?” Jawbone trots back to me and whispers almost too low for me to hear: “Take me home, Mother. Please, take me home. I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to do this today.”
RabbitEar, who’s overhead, calls, “You’re going to be a man in a few days. Your mother and I will be waiting at the top to greet the victorious Kujur.”
“But Mother—”
“I can’t wait for you to become a man,” RabbitEar tells him. “Then you will be initiated into the warrior clan, and I will be able to tell you all of the secrets that only warriors know.” He gives Jawbone a proud smile.
“Come on.” I stroke his back. “Once you start climbing your fears will vanish.”
With my arm around his shoulders, we march forward, listening to the blended melody of waves, roaring Ice Giants, and the distant playful trumpeting of infant mastodons drifting down from the high mountains.
At the base of the quest wall, RabbitEar places his hand in the first step, then the next step, making sure they’re not filled with water, then he crouches in front of Jawbone. “Son, we’ve already discussed everything you need to know, but don’t forget, if the steps fill with ice or snow, you can use your ax to chop them out.”
Jawbone doesn’t seem to be breathing. He’s rubbing the charm in his hand. “I remember.”
I add, “And don’t forget, if you rise in the morning and it’s storming, stay put. There’s plenty of wood and food in each children’s camp. You don’t have to climb that day. You can just wait out the st—”
“Mother,” Jawbone blurts, “let’s just go home? Please?”
RabbitEar clasps Jawbone’s shoulders and stares hard into his eyes. “Don’t you want to become a man? Don’t you want to get well? The elders say that only a spirit helper can heal you.”
“This will make me well? The spells will go away? Are you sure?”
“If a spirit helper comes to you, you will be well.” RabbitEar holds him out and gives Jawbone a stern nod. “And a helper will come to you. I’m sure of it. Someday, you are going to be a great leader of our people.”
“But, Father, I don’t want to be a great leader. I just want to go home.”
Jawbone turns to gaze at me with pleading eyes, and I say, “RabbitEar, perhaps we can—”
“No.” RabbitEar turns Jawbone around to face the quest wall, and rises to his feet. “Now, put the charm back in your pouch and get going, son. You need to reach the first camp before it gets dark.”
For a few heartbeats, Jawbone stands looking up with silent sobs puffing his chest. Snow gusts over the top of the wall, but the highest crags of the Ice Giants are visible, shining blue against a background of white clouds. While he tucks the charm into his belt pouch, he asks, “You’ll be up there on top in the parents’ shelter waiting for me? You promise?”
“Of course we will.”
“No matter how long it takes me to climb up all the way?”
“We’ll be there, son. Don’t rush. Take your time.” RabbitEar gives Jawbone a gentle shove toward the wall. “See you in a few days.”
Then RabbitEar marches back, grips my hand, and pulls me away with him as he heads south along the shore.
Barely audible, he says, “Don’t look back, Quiller.”