Cry of the Wind (41 page)

“I have started a fire in Sok’s lodge,” he told her. “We should move our things there.”

“Now? In the storm?” she asked, looking up at him with worried eyes.

“Star wants me to move my dogs from around her lodge. She says she will not feed them, and in this cold they need food. You can stay if you want. Ligige’ should soon be back, but Sok also needs to return to the lodge, to have a place for himself and his children.”

He saw that she sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, worried it with her teeth. “You do not want to live again in the same lodge as Sok?” he asked.

She looked at him with surprise in her eyes, frowned for a moment, then said, “No, I was not thinking of that.” She smiled at him, her eyes crinkling into curves like slices of the moon. “He needs me to help him with his children. I was wondering if my milk might start again if I nursed the baby.”

“Sky Watcher’s wife nurses him,” Chakliux said.

“You did not know she again carries a child?” Aqamdax asked, and laughed at his surprise. “So her milk will not be as plentiful.” She patted her own belly. “I will have a few moons before the babe we have made does the same to me.”

He opened his mouth in surprise. No woman could know so soon.

She laughed, and he joined her laughter. He was not used to a wife who made jokes.

He squatted beside her, placed his hand on her belly, and soon they were lying together on the floor mats, his parka, still wet with snow, flung aside. And for a few moments, Chakliux no longer heard the storm or thought about dogs. What man should allow such worries to steal his pleasure with a wife he loves?

Sok kept his eyes from the pity on Sky Watcher’s face. He tried to eat the food Bird Caller had given him but finally set his bowl, still half full, on the floor. Bird Caller held Carries Much, and Sok lifted the child from her arms. The baby gurgled his delight, and Sok could not help but notice that the boy had Snow’s eyes, her nose. He gave the child back to Bird Caller, let himself imagine how he would feel if he were handing the boy to Snow.

But no, he would not have noticed such a small blessing as that. Perhaps the spirits punished him for his lack of gratitude. Perhaps that was why Snow had died.

He thought about other men, some much worse than he was. Take More was always grumbling about his wives. Even during the feast after their first successful river hunt, he had complained about the piece of meat one of his wives had given him. Yet in his old age, he had three wives: two old women good with sewing, and one of the young girls who had chosen to return from the Near River People. Surely Sok was a better man than Take More, but both Sok’s wives were dead and one of his sons. Was he truly that cursed?

Perhaps he should give what he had left—his two sons, his dogs—to Chakliux. In that way he might protect them from whatever bad luck he was carrying. But then, Chakliux had Star and Aqamdax as wives. What man would want Star to raise his sons? Aqamdax was not terrible, but she was Sea Hunter. Carries Much and Cries-loud deserved better.

Star, not Snow-in-her-hair, should have been the one to die at the river. Who would have missed her? Her old mother, Long Eyes, seldom knew what was happening around her. Her brother, Night Man, was too selfish to care whether Star was dead or alive.

Truly it had seemed that as Star grew stronger, Snow-in-her-hair grew weaker, as though Star’s spirit used Snow’s strength to pull itself back into the world. He turned suddenly to Sky Watcher and asked, “You need food from your cache?”

“For the dogs,” he answered.

“I will get it.”

“Bring a little caribou meat,” Bird Caller told him.

Sok pulled on his outside clothes and left the lodge. The snow cut hard into his face, but he welcomed its pain, pushed his parka hood back from his face so he could feel the bitter cold bite into his skin. A drift behind Bird Caller’s lodge was nearly to his hips, the snow hard and crusted with ice, but he forced his way through. The wind sang, and now that he was outside the lodge walls, he recognized its voice.

Snow-in-her-hair was calling him, singing, singing, her cold fingers caressing his skin.

Chapter Forty-six

T
HE STORM LASTED THREE
days. During that time Sok was quiet, seldom spoke, even to his sons, but he cared for his dogs, went hunting once with Chakliux, though they returned only with ptarmigan.

The wind finally blew the storm north, and the sun cut through the layer of clouds to reveal the pale blue of a winter sky. Neither sun nor wind was strong enough to keep the clouds away, and two days later they circled back, at first in a thin layer, so Aqamdax thought they were only the smoke from village hearths. But soon the wind caught bitterness again in its mouth and flung it in ice and cold over the village. Once again the dogs curled tight in the lee of drifts, and old women covered themselves with caribou hides so the cold, on its way to their bones, would be trapped in the hides’ thick hair.

The first night of that new storm Sok woke Aqamdax with his mourning songs, and as his wailing turned to words, she realized that he was speaking to the wind as though it were his dead wife.

In the darkness of the lodge Cries-loud crept to Aqamdax’s bed, and though he had eight summers, he huddled close like a small child awakening from bad dreams.

Chakliux stirred beside her, and Aqamdax whispered, “You need to get Sok away from here.”

“In this storm?”

She could hear the anger in Chakliux’s voice, knew that it was not at her but at the sorrow that seemed to tear Sok away from who he was. She took his hand, guided it to Cries-loud so he could feel the boy trembling beside her.

“Where?” Chakliux asked, his voice again gentle.

“The hunters’ lodge?” she said, giving her suggestion as question.

Chakliux pulled on boots and parka, got Sok into his outside clothing. After they left, Aqamdax put Cries-loud back into his own bed, then she took Carries Much from his cradleboard and held him, singing the lullabies she had learned as a child living with the First Men.

Chakliux did not return until the next morning, and then he came by himself.

“Sok stayed at the hunters’ lodge?” Aqamdax said.

“The men asked him to tell hunting stories. I came to feed the dogs and see if you need anything, but I should go back.”

Aqamdax kept her disappointment hidden. Only a moon before he had not been her husband. Then, a quick smile when others were not looking was all they dared. How could she complain now that they belonged to one another?

“How bad is the storm?” she asked.

“Like the others,” he replied, and shrugged his shoulders as though it did not matter, but she could tell it bothered him. How could a man hunt? How could a woman keep her traplines open?

She gave Chakliux food, filled his bowl again so he would stay longer. When he left, she sang songs to fill the lodge, and told stories, Cries-loud begging for more even when her voice grew hoarse from speaking. Later in the day, Yaa and Ghaden came to the lodge, and Aqamdax taught them all a First Men song.

She fed the children, took Carries Much to Bird Caller so the woman could see him. Aqamdax herself was nursing the baby now, and each day she had more milk. She fought the storm back to Snow’s lodge, told Ghaden and Yaa she wanted them to spend the night, but in the early darkness of that evening, Star came, scolded both children for worrying her. Then when the children begged, she agreed that Cries-loud could come and stay in her lodge with Ghaden and Yaa.

Aqamdax met Star’s eyes boldly. “You know I cannot let him go with you,” she said.

“You trust your brother and sister with me and yet not Cries-loud?”

“I have no choice with my brother and sister,” she said, “but Cries-loud belongs to Sok. You must ask him.”

“Where is he? I thought he would be here.”

“He and Chakliux are at the hunters’ lodge.”

“A new husband does not live with his new wife?” Star asked, mocking her with raised eyebrows.

Aqamdax did not answer. She knew the truth. What else mattered?

“I will go to the hunters’ lodge and ask,” Star told her, but Aqamdax put on her outside clothes, bound the baby under her parka and went with her. Together they stood outside huddled with Yaa as Ghaden and Cries-loud went in. Finally Chakliux came out, said Sok wanted the boy to stay in Snow’s lodge until the storm ended.

Star thrust her lip into a pout, and grabbing fistfuls of Yaa’s and Ghaden’s parkas, dragged them with her to her lodge.

“Wait for me,” Chakliux told Aqamdax, and he followed Star to her lodge.

Aqamdax and Cries-loud waited, crouched beside the hunters’ lodge, heads turned away from the wind. When Chakliux came back, his face was grim, but Aqamdax asked no questions, said nothing about Star. Chakliux walked Aqamdax and Cries-loud to Snow’s lodge, stayed with them there through the evening before returning to his brother.

That night Chakliux dreamed he was with Aqamdax. He turned in his sleep, flung an arm over her to pull her close, then sat up, suddenly awake. He heard the sleep noises of the men, smelled the thick odor of their breaths, rich with the meat they had eaten the day before.

Sok was not in his bedding furs. His parka no longer hung on the clothing pegs. Take More sat beside the hearth fire, was feeding thin sticks into the coals.

“He left,” he said to Chakliux.

“You did not stop him?” Chakliux asked.

“Is he a child that I must stop him?”

“Did he say anything to you?”

“That someone was calling him.”

Chakliux dressed and went outside, studied the footprints the snow had not yet covered. The largest went toward Sok’s lodge, and Chakliux began to hope his brother had stopped for food and supplies.

Then, through the darkness, Chakliux saw Sok leaving the lodge, a pack on his back. He did not take any of the dogs, but instead started toward the caches. The new snow, not yet hardened by the wind, reached Chakliux’s knees, and his otter foot slipped. He toppled into the snow, but he pushed himself up and caught Sok before he reached the caches.

When Sok saw Chakliux, he said, “My wife is calling me. I cannot pretend anymore that I do not hear.”

“Where are you going?”

“To find her.”

Chakliux grasped his brother’s arm, lifted his voice above the screaming wind. “What if she is calling you to her world? Who will raise your sons? Your wife would trust them to another?”

“They are yours if I do not return,” Sok said, then continued toward their food cache.

Again Chakliux caught his brother’s arm. “I am going with you.”

Sok shook his head. “Who will take care of my children if both of us are called into that spirit world?”

“She does not call me.”

Sok stomped his feet against the ground, brushed snow from the ruff of his hood. “Come if you must,” he finally said.

“I cannot go without telling Aqamdax.”

“I will get meat while you speak to her.”

Chakliux clamped a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “You will wait for me?”

“Yes.”

Chakliux turned and ran to the lodge.

Aqamdax was feeding Carries Much when her husband burst into the lodge. She was relieved to see him, began speaking before he could say anything.

“Sok was here. There is something wrong. You need to talk to him. He would tell me nothing. He took Carries Much from his cradleboard and whispered into his ears. Then he gave Cries-loud one of his best spears. The long one he uses for caribou.”

Chakliux crouched in front of his wife and looked into her face. “I saw him. He thinks his dead wife calls him from the storm. He says he must go to her.”

“Do you think she is calling? Why would she want him to leave her new son? What if the wife calling him is not Snow but Red Leaf?”

“I am going with him.”

“No! Chakliux, look at me. I have a baby to care for, and Cries-loud, and my brother and Yaa….” She saw the sorrow in his face, the worry, and she choked down her protests. “I have taken care of children before,” she said softly. “But I cannot lose you. Please, Chakliux…”

He enclosed her in his arms, whispered into her hair, “If I let him go alone, he will not come back. If we go together, I have a chance to bring him home. But whatever his decision, I will be back. I will never leave you. You are always at the center of my heart.”

Then he had weapons in his hands, a pack, and before Aqamdax could think of other arguments, he was gone. She cradled the baby in one arm and crawled into the entrance tunnel, lifted the doorflap to watch Chakliux leave, but the snow swallowed him, and she could see nothing but the storm.

She went into the lodge. Cries-loud had squeezed himself into a ball, knees drawn nearly to his chin. The spear Sok had given him was in his hands, the butt end resting against the floor, the spearhead pointing up as though to threaten the wind.

Aqamdax sat beside him, adjusted the baby at her breast, began to rock and hum. Then a story came into her mind, a silly tale of gulls and kittiwakes, and she began to speak. Soon Cries-loud was leaning against her, the spear between them, and Aqamdax told stories long into the night.

Chapter Forty-seven

T
HE DAY DAWNED BRIGHT
and clear, as though the storm had never been. Ligige’ stomped out a path through the snow to her dog, was welcomed by his yips. When he had first belonged to the Near River shaman, Wolf-and-Raven, the animal was nearly wild, snapping at anyone who came close, but as the years passed he had gentled, and after Wolf-and-Raven’s death, when his widow gave the dog to Ligige’, he was nearly as much a pet as Ghaden’s dog, Biter.

Ligige’ fed him a large fish, then tossed out several chunks of fat. If people saw her giving him the fat, they would think she was foolish, but she told herself that if starving times came, she could always eat the dog, so any fat given was not really wasted. The winter promised to be a bad one. During the next storm, she would let the dog sleep in the entrance tunnel. After all, what could anyone say to her? She was not a child to be scolded. Old women had earned the right to do things differently if they wanted.