CHAPTER SEVEN

BLUE BIRD

Hidden by the entrance to her cave, Blue Bird held her breath as she watched Wild Horse talk first to the hunter who must be Zuni, and then to her father. They were surrounded by other hunters. She wanted to believe Wild Horse wouldn’t tell them where she was.

But there was much talking. Too much talking. Blue Bird trembled as she gripped her spear so tightly it hurt her hand.

Then Wild Horse led the hunters up the ridge, away from the river. He looked over his shoulder when they reached the top of it. Did he know she was watching him? She did not loosen the grip on her spear until they disappeared from her sight. Blinking back tears, she heaved a huge sigh of relief. At last, free and on her own. Apart from Paska, of course. Dear Paska, still recovering from giving birth to six puppies, with none left alive.

She wanted to continue her journey, but the dog needed to rest; she was still weak from walking through the night. And only now did Blue Bird realise how hungry she was. She had packed some dried food, but the journey ahead of her would take many moons to complete. She needed to save as much as possible, and build up supplies, so she should try and catch something. For Paska, as well as for herself.

Now that the hunters had gone, birdsong and the sounds of the rushing river filled her ears as she scanned the trees on the other side of the river. The woodland had wildlife and places to hide, but it would be easy to get lost in there. This rock offered more protection, and the ground below was littered with enough bushes and trees to provide firewood. Hopefully she’d find something to hunt on this side of the river. She would stay for another sunset, while she worked out a plan. She’d never had a plan before, had been free-spirited until that sly snake Burning Fire had stifled her.

She had to trust that Wild Horse would not tell anybody that he’d seen her. If he was going to tell her father, surely he’d have done it there and then. But he hadn’t, and Blue Bird had to place her faith in him, even though they’d only just met.

He’d probably expect her to move on, so by staying where she was, she should be safe. She would have to build a fire in the cave, both to keep them warm as the night chill fell, and to help ward off predators. Wild Horse had warned her that sabretooth cats and wolves preyed in these parts. Creatures she’d have to face alone.

‘But I’ve come this far, so I can go on,’ she said to herself.

She held her spear up to the sky, asking the Spirits to send her easy prey. Her bravery began to ebb away, flowing downstream with the river. ‘But I am not truly alone,’ she muttered. ‘The Spirits are with me.’

Blue Bird rolled out the bearskin she slept in. It contained everything she had brought with her. The frayed rabbit-skin pouch and balm were her most prized possessions – Blue Bird always carried some of Sacred Cloud’s balm, for it had good healing powers, and soothed both cuts and hunting wounds. She wished she had also brought root from the plant used to make the balm, as chewing it could ease aching teeth and stomach pains, and lessen hunger.

She held the pouch against her chest. It had been sewn by her mother, soft rabbit skin with fine stitches of sinew. It was her only link with the mother she had never known. Stroking its softness gave her comfort and hope that she would find her mother’s family.

But it also reminded Blue Bird of her first solo kill – a rabbit – and the thrill of taking it back to Mogoll. She closed her eyes as she pictured the look of pride on his face when he held up the rabbit to show off to the tribe. It was not usual for girls to go hunting, especially one as young as six winters.

‘You have done well, daughter of mine,’ he had said to Blue Bird. ‘I was hoping that a son would give me this moment. I have not been blessed with one, but my daughter does so instead.’

But later she’d heard him say to one of the hunters, words that still scratched her ears: ‘She did well enough for a daughter, but I feel sure a son would do better than a rabbit for his first kill.’

She grabbed her spear. A rabbit would fill her belly now. ‘Time to go hunting,’ she said to Paska, and the dog followed her as she clambered down to the river.

As she walked along the bank, she gazed back up at the huge craggy rock, which jutted upwards like it was trying to escape from the ground that grasped it. There were other ledges above her cave which might hide more caves. Below the rock, the scrubland was scattered with trees and large boulders. Animals might gather to drink by the boulders which bordered the riverbank. Just before sunset would be a good time to catch them, she knew. She started looking out for droppings, hoof marks or paw prints, as well as signs of anything else to eat – maybe fish or frogs, though with the Snow Moons still skulking perhaps it was a little early for frogs.

She saw nothing.

For a moment she imagined Wild Horse running towards her, those long legs galloping like the horse he was named for. As she shook off the image she recalled how much she’d told him; more than she’d meant to. There was something about him – something she had liked. A gentleness?

‘Poor Wild Horse,’ she muttered. ‘You seem too good a person to end up with my spiteful sister.’

Paska’s bark jolted her in time to see a snake slithering away into some bushes. Blue Bird jabbed her spear into the foliage, but the meal was gone. She nearly cursed Paska for frightening away the snake, but it was her own fault. The dog was trained to keep still and silent when Blue Bird was hunting, and only barked to warn of danger that Blue Bird hadn’t noticed. The snake might have been venomous.

‘Good dog.’ She patted Paska. ‘I must stay alert. The snakes must be coming out of their winter sleep.’

She moved swiftly but stealthily, Paska at her heels, her spear at the ready. If only she had another spear-shaft, she thought. Then, if she just injured an animal with her first throw, a second spear would finish the kill. At least she had a knife, spare points and fore-shafts.

It might be better to hunt on the other side of the river? She reached the place where the river widened and was shallower, with large flat rocks she could use as stepping stones. But she didn’t get across. This time she saw the snake first. And there was a loose boulder next to her.

With one movement she scooped up the boulder and flipped it towards the snake. The snake whipped its tail round to slide away, but Blue Bird’s boulder landed on its head.

Perfect. Blue Bird grabbed her knife and cut away the snake’s body, leaving the smashed head under the boulder. She held it in front of her. Not very big, it stretched from her waist to the ground, but would satisfy their hunger for the rest of the day at least.

‘We have food, Paska. Thank you, Spirits,’ she called up to the sky.

She hurried back to the cave, collecting wood on the way. Then she rubbed her fire-stones together until her arms ached – but at last a spark ignited a dry twig, and she held her hands round it until the flame grew bright, gradually adding bigger twigs to build up a fire. She set two rocks into the fire, and as they grew hot she laid the snake over them. The skin crackled and sputtered, and the flames spat. Paska lay on the ground, her head close to the fire, her nose twitching.

Blue Bird waited as long as her stomach would allow before lifting the snake away from the hot rocks. She burnt her fingers and dropped it, so pierced it with a spear-point and laid it across a flat boulder at the edge of the cave. The sharp edge of her stone knife sliced through the crisped skin. She threw the first piece to Paska, who gulped it down, then sliced another chunk for herself. Sitting cross-legged in front of the fire, she ate rapidly, then slowed to savour each mouthful. Snake had never tasted so good.