CHAPTER TWO

BLUE BIRD

Blue Bird clawed Burning Fire’s face as she fought to save the tiny newborn, but the woman was bigger than Blue Bird and forced the creature under the surface of the shallow stream.

‘Let Paska keep one of the puppies,’ screamed Blue Bird, trying to scoop up the five lifeless bodies already lying in the water. ‘Release it or I’ll tell Paska to attack you!’

‘You will not.’ Her father Mogoll strode towards them from the camp.

Paska whimpered as she pawed at the bodies. Blue Bird knelt in the stream next to her and rubbed her face against her dog’s fur.

‘Burning Fire killed all the puppies,’ she sobbed.

‘And look what the wild she-cat of a daughter of yours has done to me.’ The woman turned her bloodied cheek towards Mogoll. ‘I shouldn’t have to suffer so from a child.’

‘I am not a child,’ said Blue Bird. ‘And I am the one who suffers, you snake!’

‘Only a child would cry at such a thing,’ said Burning Fire. ‘I’ve done the right thing by getting rid of them.’

‘It is the right thing, Blue Bird. We do not need puppies,’ Mogoll said. ‘We are getting ready to leave camp. You have no right to fight with Burning Fire. She is heavy with child. You must say sorry.’

Blue Bird knew that her father wouldn’t take her side; he never did – not since that woman had given him two sons. But she would not show any regret for scratching Burning Fire’s face. She gathered the six tiny bodies into the rough wooden bowl in which Burning Fire had carried them, and ran upstream, Paska close behind.

Nobody followed her. Nobody heard her crying, or saw her heaving shoulders as she laid the dead puppies on a flat rock. Four of them were grey with black splodges like Paska, but two were the colour of a muddy river.

Blue Bird wanted the Spirits to find their souls before the wolves or the vultures came to eat the remains. While she waited, she made a decision. She could not stay here. She had never known her own mother who had died giving birth to her, and now her father had another wife she didn’t feel she belonged any more. She was going to run away.

She waited for darkness to fall before creeping back to the camp, expecting the tribe to be asleep. A hand grabbed her shoulder as she reached her shelter, and she jumped.

It was Burning Fire. Paska snarled.

‘Let go of me or Paska will bite.’

The woman leant so close that her face almost touched Blue Bird’s, the deep scratches visible even in the darkness, her breath reeking of raw meat.

‘I’ll make sure your father has that dog butchered,’ she hissed. ‘At sunrise, before we leave this camp, I’ll tell Mogoll it will slow us down, that it is best to end its pathetic life before we set off.’ Then she slapped Blue Bird so hard she fell to her knees.

Paska nuzzled Blue Bird as Burning Fire strode away. Hatred for her father’s wife welled up inside her, and she shivered at the thought of losing Paska as well as the puppies. Now there could be no change of mind – she had to leave. And she had to be gone before sunrise.

Before that woman ordered Paska’s death.

She crawled into the shelter she shared with her aunt Sacred Cloud and her daughter Fawn. They were asleep. Blue Bird quickly rolled all her belongings into her sleeping-fur: stone scrapers and fire-stones; sinew, a bone awl and needles; slabs of pemmican, nuts and dried berries; and a frayed rabbit-skin pouch with a wooden pot of Sacred Cloud’s healing balm inside. She slung a water-skin across her shoulder, and checked that the hunting pouch tied to her belt held her knife and two spare points.

It was time to go.

She crawled out of the shelter. Blue Bird knew that Sacred Cloud and Fawn would look after each other, and hoped that they’d forgive her for leaving them. Looking up to the sky she asked the Spirits to bless her with a safe journey.

Sacred Cloud had told her many times about the place where she and Blue Bird’s mother had grown up. She would go there and look for her mother’s tribe. That was where she belonged. But first, she had to get away from this one.

She set off, walking beside the stream. The rippling sounds and the way it reflected the light from the moon and stars made it the easiest course to follow, but the howls of a wolf made her reach for Paska. Her hand trembled as she stroked the dog’s neck. Paska wasn’t a large dog – she stood not much higher than Blue Bird’s knees – but it was easier being brave with Paska by her side. She gave Blue Bird the strength not to turn round, even when a whoosh of wings swept low over her head: an owl, clutching a mouse in its claws. She flinched but kept walking.

All night.

To think about the threats lurking in the darkness might send her back to what she so longed to leave behind.

When the stream disappeared underground Blue Bird followed the outskirts of dense woodland, which led over a ridge and down towards a river. As they drank, Blue Bird looked across the water to where a massive craggy rock jutted out of the darkness: it might be a good place to find shelter. Paska hadn’t fallen behind once, though she must be exhausted after giving birth, and now the dog lay down panting – Blue Bird feared she might be too weak even to cross the river.

‘Come on.’ She squatted to pick up Paska, grasping the dog under her chest and rear legs, then waded across the river, using the remains of her own strength, grateful for the moonlight on the water to guide her across. ‘We must find somewhere to rest,’ she said, placing Paska on the ground.

They scrambled up the rock face. A dark hollow emerged as Blue Bird pulled herself up to a ledge. Half hidden by scrubby bushes was a cave like an open mouth. She only had to stoop a little to enter it, brushing away the spiders’ webs that clung to her. It was dry and empty; a good place to shelter. Beetles scuttled away as she wrapped her sleeping-fur around her and snuggled next to Paska for warmth.

She didn’t remember falling asleep, but the sound of voices woke her.

Voices she knew.

She moved to the entrance of the cave, clutching her spear, then dropped to the ground behind a bush and held her breath.

Her father and his hunters were looking at what must be her tracks on the other side of the river. The rest of the tribe waited behind them. She was sure they could all hear the pounding of her blood, deep inside her.

Finally Mogoll led the tribe downriver and Blue Bird breathed a sigh of relief. She watched Sacred Cloud hesitate, and wanted to call out, to reassure her aunt that she was still alive. Then Fawn took her mother’s hand, and Blue Bird knew it was right she travelled alone. Neither had her strength and resilience. She would not have made it this far through the night if they’d been with her.

Burning Fire shouted that if Blue Bird had survived the night, she’d soon come crawling back to them because the dog would be dead.

Mogoll roared at Sacred Cloud not to linger.

Their harshness strengthened Blue Bird’s resolve. She could not return. She would not return.