Castle Of The Giant

 

Through midday the troupe trod briskly toward their destination, Tun’s Lodge. Crisp, cold air and unbroken sunshine greeted the pack as they made their way up the mountain. There was more snow on the ground than when last they traversed this route. Along the way each would point out a hunting sign. A scent deposited by a tree, tracks on the ground, evidence of passing and feeding wildlife.

They were jubilant, and conversations bubbled throughout. The re-telling of the hunt, dreams of the future, and curiosity at what they would find at The Lodge dominated the jovial exchanges. They stopped to drink at Tear-In-The-Rocks Creek, most of it now frozen over. Eddies and inlets were sought for open water. All tongues occupied, the chattering voices ceased, and upon getting underway again, a quiet mood settled in. Each dog was lost in their own thoughts of what the future would bring.

It was exciting and a little scary at the same time. So many unknowns. Some of these unknowns were bound to be pleasant surprises, experiences new to all, sometimes learning about themselves in the process. Some of the unknowns were bound to be unpleasant. Things no one had thought of. Troubles not yet imagined. Yet herein lies the essence of adventure and discovery. If we always stick to the familiar trail, we will never see new horizons. If we don’t sometimes test ourselves, how will we know what we are capable of? Each day to come was filled with such bright promise, the wonders yet to discover.

By late afternoon, the pack crested the last hill before the Lodge, and beheld the campus that had become home to the inhabitants of Tunkan. Now they were greeted with another change. Half of the New Lodge Village was empty. All the Chavchu, their reindeer and yarangas included, were already gone. A half dozen dog sleds stood with teams in harness, their owners piling their possessions on board. Two teams were ready, and they started off eastward on the Woods Trail, which ascended still higher, to the summit of Tun’s Mountain.

The team raced across the clearing at the west side, into their former home. Sasha was anxious to find Kotka and speak with him. Umka and Anchu hoped to see Tun. Alexei wanted to do whatever the group did, and begged his brother to come to the Lodge with them. Larik stopped at the edge of the clearing, staring into the village, searching for good reason to go there. Finding none, with his eyes or his heart, he refused, and lingered at the edge of the woods.

Dak desperately wanted to know where Tun went, and hoped with all his will that he would once again find the giant man. Dak felt closest to Tun on a personal level, and worried for his safety. Anchu had not thought much about returning to the Lodge, but upon seeing it was overwhelmed with homesickness. He was overjoyed to be home, and hoped everything could go back to normal now.

Stone’s thoughts ran deeply. This was the strangest time of his long life. Everything in his world had a rhythm and cadence to it prior to the burning of Tunkan. There were no doubts about where they would live or what they would do day-to-day. No conflicts of loyalty or duty. The biggest decisions were where to take a nap or how quickly to finish a meal. At the same time, Stone had always had something of a fantasy, a daydream, about calling the wild mountains his home. He’d thought before of what it might be like to be a wolf, live in a wild pack, travel where you please and stay where you want to. He’d never really imagined himself doing so, simply admired the beauty of the free and wild life. Now, it had been suggested that he join the pack, to live in the wilderness along with their wolf cousins, and the appeal was overwhelming. True and dedicated to Tun, he could even see his way to believing Tun would understand, and in his inimitable way, would wish them “Good journey!”.

They sprinted into the village and fanned out. Dak and Stone headed to the main Lodge building in search of Tun. Umka, accompanied by Alexei, ran all over the campus checking the Storehouse, the run-in, the shed, and even the outhouse, looking for the big man. Anchu followed his sister to the Dogs’ House. She began calling from some distance, and as they arrived at the building, Kotka emerged through the dog door.

“Well, well. The wanderers have returned! Did you find Larik?” Kotka greeted them with a relaxed smile.

“Yes!” answered Anchu, excited to deliver the news. “He was at the fish wheel, but he doesn’t want to come live here.” he blurted out.

“Oh?” Kotka answered casually, “Well, we are free to leave if we choose. What about Alexei?”

“We had a meeting.” Sasha began, so nervous she didn’t even acknowledge his question, still unsure of how to approach the subject with Kotka. Looking into his face, she was reminded not only of how greatly she loved him, but also how greatly she trusted him. She knew she could say this any way it came out, and Kotka would be understanding, accepting, supportive, honest and open. This is one of the greatest values of the truest of friends. Come what may, including our own errors and shortcomings, a true friend will always understand, always love you.

“We decided- if Tun’s not here-” she spoke in starts and stops, “that we’re going to live as a wild pack. In the wilderness. If Tun’s not here.” She concluded thusly, leaving the question unasked. She could find no way to come right out and ask if he would go, or ask if he thought he was capable, or ask how a hunting pack would accommodate a handicapped dog.

Kotka sucked in a breath of surprise. His eyes widened and his whole face became brighter. Before he could speak, a tear welled in his eye. He spoke softly and evenly, and stared intently into Sasha’s eyes.

“I’ve always dreamed of living free in the wilderness. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought of it, wished for it. Just running away to the mountains. Freedom.”

“Really?” Sasha responded, “You’ve never said so.”

“But I have a pack. I couldn’t leave my pack over such a selfish notion.”

“Now your pack is ready to go!” she beamed. “But…” Sasha paused, swallowed and stammered, “Will you be alright? With your bum leg?” There. She said it. Her stomach was in knots and she wanted to cry, but she said it.

“Bum leg?” Kotka laughed as he dismissed her concerns. “It may stop me from racing on a sled team, but not much else. I was the fastest there was in my day, you know, and even with a bum leg, I bet I’m still faster than most!” His eyes were wide and a broad grin stretched across his face. “But Tun’s here.”

“What?” Sasha leaped to her feet, “Where?”

“I don’t know where, around here somewhere. He came back yesterday, and then all the others started to pack out and leave, heading seaward.”

“I must find him!” Sasha exclaimed as she leaped from the porch and began to run through the campus, calling out for Tun. Excited barks were coming from two packmates, near the center.

Racing directly to the front entrance of the main Lodge building, Dak and Stone found Tun’s cargo sled with a team in harness. They were acquainted with six of the eight dogs, the remaining two complete strangers. Behind the large cargo sled stood the narrower and shorter decorated racing sled, but pulling it was a single reindeer. Both sleds were heaped with everything imaginable; clothing and furs, cookpots and tools, traps and blankets and food.

The door burst open with a bang, someone moving swiftly, flinging the door open with his backside. A fur clad figure backed through the door, his arms barely managing the pile he carried. As he turned, the dogs recognized Rol, who dropped his load in shocked surprise.

“Dak! Stone!” he shouted.

A loud and fast pounding then met their ears. The sound of a giant, running through the Lodge.

Tun burst from the door, his eyes wide as saucers, with a look of disbelief on his face.

The moment his eyes met Stone’s, he fairly screamed. A high-pitched squeal formed of the simple word “O!”. He leaped in a single step from the doorway to Dak and Stone, fell to his knees, and wrapped one arm around each dog, as they wiggled and whined and licked his face.

“Rocky! Dak!” was all he could squeak out, and the big man cried unabashedly, his chest heaving with sobs. “Oh, Rocky! Dak!” he repeated. Basking in their attentions, his heart and senses were overwhelmed by the appearance of the cherished dogs, these ghosts from the trail. Dogs he had resigned himself to accept as gone forever. In a moment Sasha came running up to him, leaped up onto his chest and smothered him with paws and kisses.

Hearing the gleeful yips and barks, Anchu, Umka and Alexei streaked to the source of the exclamations. Tun opened his arms to Sasha, and held all three dogs, now kissing them atop their heads as they squirmed with delight. The next three appeared before him, and he could hardly believe his eyes. They were all here! Wait. All except Larik. Larik must be the only one lost to him. Tun laid on his back in the snow and let the dogs climb all over him. They pawed, they kissed, and few celebrations prior or since could compete with the level of joy and exhilaration.

Larik watched from the edge of the wood as the dogs swarmed into the Lodge campus and tore off in every direction. He saw Kotka emerge from the Dogs’ House and was immediately reminded of how much he liked, admired, even revered the old legend. He felt a bit sad and guilty, and disappointed with himself for having thought of him as simply an old, broken down dog. Kotka’s pride and character could be seen and sensed by his posture alone, the way he carried himself. Larik hoped his remarks would not make their way back to the honored veteran. Over at the Lodge, Dak and Stone suddenly ceased their staccato of barks, and now delighted yips and whines were heard. From the door emerged a man so tall he needed to duck down to exit the building. When again he stood upright, he could be seen to tower over everything but the buildings and the trees.

Larik’s stomach leaped into his throat as his heart started to pound. His knees went weak for a moment and he nearly stumbled where he stood, his eyes burning with tears. He watched the gentle giant hug two, then three, then six dogs at once in his massive arms, tears streaming down his cheeks. He saw the man lie flat on the ground to be smothered by the affections of his dearest friends. Without consciously willing it, Larik suddenly found himself sprinting across the clearing, barking all the way, “Tun! Tun! Here I am! Tun!”

Tun stood and looked to the barking. A voice he recognized. Larik flew through the air the last two meters and quite literally threw himself onto the man. “Larik! Larik! Larik!” Tun repeated as he held the dog, tears and sobbing continuing in unrestricted torrents.

As they gathered themselves, Sasha saw Rol, standing beside the reindeer. She ran to him, and gave him the same treatment as Tun; wiggles, whines and wet kisses abounded.

“The Great Spirit has smiled on us.” Tun said when again he was able to speak.

“I can hardly believe it.” replied Rol, “Just in the nick of time!”

“Okay guys,” Tun addressed the pack, “a couple more things and we’re ready to leave.”

There was a hurried nature to their movements, swiftness uncalled for if running a trap line or driving to the trading post. Their eyes kept turning toward the west trail leading up the mountain. Several sleds left just ahead of them, driving fast, as if they were racing.

Tun threw another parcel on the cargo sled, walked the gangline to check connections and dogs, and set his feet on the runners. He paused here, and looked for quite a while at each building, the grounds, the surrounding wood, as if saying goodbye.

“Let’s go. Eik! Det! Det!” he commanded, and his eight-dog team struggled to move the heavily laden sled, their driver lending welcome assistance. Sasha’s pack trotted alongside as Tun proceeded to the East Woods trail. Somehow, they sensed they would not be returning. Each dog looked back at the place they had called Home, some holding long gazes. They would remember fondly their times at their mountaintop hideaway, their retreat and respite.

As he entered the trail followed by Rol’s reindeer-driven sled and surrounded by his beloved dogs he thought he’d lost forvever, Tun did not look back again. He was grateful to be leaving with the things of true importance; Rol, and his closest canine companions.

The last tears of the joy of reunion mingled with new tears of parting as they left the Castle of The Giant, and set their course for The Mountain In The Sea.

 

A World Of Their Own

 

The dawn broke still and gray. A thick fog had enshrouded the world, the magical mist transforming the landscape. The spruces, the trail, the creek, the fish wheel and all the wilderness vanished. Now merely a cloud, slumbering on the ground. Without the slightest breeze, the air did not stir, and no sound fractured the crystal silence of daybreak. As each dog awoke, they beheld a tiny microcosm floating in smoky space. Each could see only the others in the pack, and the small patch of Earth that held them, seemingly all there was remaining of the universe. After a quiet round of stretches and yawns, and time enough to look about, taking in the curiously vaporous world, Larik was first to speak.

“I’m sorry I got so carried away yesterday.” he addressed the pack in a voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been thinking about it all night. It was really nice of you guys to come back for me. I know I owe a certain duty to the pack.”

“You owe us nothing…” Stone began.

“Please.” Larik cut him off politely. “Let me finish. I’ve been thinking all night of what to tell you.” He paused, looking to Stone to ensure there was no offense. “Sasha should be able to go see Kotka, and Umka should see Tun. Anchu should be able to don a racing harness again. Really, it’s just selfish of me to pressure you guys into living in the wild wood. I don’t know myself if I can do it, or if that’s even what I really want.” He looked up into the fog where there previously stood trees. He looked beyond them, to the fog hiding the distant mountain tops from view. “One thing I know for certain,” he began again in a serious tone, then cracked a smile, “and that’s that you guys really stink like rotten fish!” He feigned disgust at the smell. “Can we get out of here? Anywhere but here! How could I have lived here for two days?”

Larik’s apologies, followed by humor, broke the mood of sadness and contention that had reigned over the pack. A feeling of bright good cheer and camaraderie again filled their hearts and spirits, as the pack began to trot eastward on the familiar trail obfuscated by fog. The world seemed to have evaporated, and all the cosmos was reduced to this caravan, loping through a ceaseless heavenly veil.

Conversations were simple, clear, honest and open. Feelings were expressed without undue emotional weight, without requirements for solemnity or serious consideration. It was as if the entire group had become a single mind, and these were the thoughts it thought in unbounded contemplation.

“Well, I hope there are no wolves, or wild dogs, anywhere around. We smell like a pack of marching salmon.” said Dak.

“I didn’t notice so much until you pointed it out.” Anchu added with a giggle, sprinting ahead to be upwind of the rest. He nearly vanished into the fog, just a dark Anchu-sized shadowy ghost, nearly indiscernable. Almost more sensed than seen.

“I’m curious to see what home looks like. To see if the band of vagabonds remains encamped.” Stone stated casually, trotting in his usual place, shoulder to shoulder with Dak, at the fore of the pack save for anxious Anchu.

“I wonder if Tun is there. And Rol.” spoke Sasha, in that moment a sense gripping her heart and stomach, as she considered the younger may well have moved on. “Rol.” The name rang from her with no further purpose than to hear it again, to evoke a smile and a slight shake of the head at her recollections.

“I just want to eat something besides fish.” Larik interjected. “Keep your eyes out.”

“Eyes out!” parroted Alexei, then he moved closer to his brother and asked quietly, “For what?”

“For food!” Larik nearly scolded. “Rabbits and weasels. Whatever you see.”

“I can see nothing in this cloud.” Alexei remarked, as he eased away from Larik a bit, maintaining the pack’s pace, then dropping back a little.

“I think we should do both.” Stone raised his voice and turned his head to address the group as they floated along, alone in the world but for the surreal passing ghost tree or ghost rock, half-solid in the translucent air.

“Weasels and rabbits?” Dak threw a crooked, questioning glance at Stone.

“To try living in the wilderness. If the Lodge has become a village without Tun, I’m game to give it a try with Larik.” Most in the group raised eyebrows or looked at one another.

“What do you mean “both”?” Sasha inquired.

“And you should see Kotka, Tun or Rol,” Stone responded, “Anchu can return to the team. Larik can remain in the woods and we can visit, and bring food.”

“That’s not exactly a wild pack, is it?” asked Dak, “How does that equal both?”

“And,” Stone continued, “if the Lodge is a village with no sign of Tun or Rol, we head out on our own.”

Thinking aloud, Larik parroted like Alexei, “On our own.”

“How can we go live wild if I’m with Tun and Alexei is with the team? And what about Kotka?” Umka moved closer to Stone as he spoke.

“And Rol?” Sasha added.

“Suppose none of them are there?” Dak looked to a passing ghost pine as he spoke, almost more to the ether than the pack, “At the Lodge.”

“Like Tunkan.” Larik expressed the remainder of Dak’s thought.

“RABBIT! RABBIT! RABBIT!” Anchu’s barking accompanied the rapid fading away of his ghost backside and tail into the dense fog.

Larik burst into a run up the center of the trail, barking orders.

“You two on the left,” he nodded without slowing, “and you guys on the right.”

He disappeared into the cloud behind Anchu.

Away they all flew, and the Wild Pack was off, on its first hunt together.

Unbroken

 

“Down to five again.” Stone said to Dak. They trotted side by side at the front of the group as they started down the mountain trail, Umka, Anchu and Sasha close behind. Dak gave a long and knowing look at Stone, and made no reply.

“Maybe we can catch up with Alexei.” Stone accompanied the statement with a quickening step, and encouragement for Dak and the others to follow suit.

“Wait! Wait!” Sasha stopped in her tracks and called to the rest. “I need to go back and tell Kotka where I’ve gone.” The group stopped in response and looked back, still facing down the hill. “I’ll be right back. You go ahead and I’ll catch up.”

With little more than nods of acknowledgement, the panting dogs resumed their trot, and disappeared into the woods. Sasha galloped near top speed back up the draw, and crossed the meadow to the Lodge Village. When she arrived at the shed, she found it empty. Wishing to avoid delay, she began a circle around the perimeter of the occupied spaces, calling Kotka. Near the Lodge she heard his deep voice answer her call, and she found him lying on the porch of the Dogs’ House.

“What’s going on?” Kotka asked, rising to his feet and sounding genuinely concerned at the sight of his hurried and winded friend.

“The pack…” she started, and was struck by the fact that she considered him a part of it, yet somehow separate. In the same way Tun stood out as one among many. There was something about both of them that made you feel you were in the presence of greatness. Awe and reverence filled those fortunate enough to know them. “Some of us…” she started again, “The team…”. Any words she chose seemed inadequate. Somehow excluding Kotka, bordering on insult.

“Sosh.” he interrupted, sensing her plight. “You don’t need to mince words with me. With a bum leg, I’m never going to be on a team again. But you’re young and strong. You run for both of us.”

“Gosh, I..I” she stuttered.

“I heard your team is going to look for Tun. You go, and I’ll see you when you return, okay?”

“No. Change of plans.” Still winded, she spoke in bursts, “We’re going down the mountain. To get Larik. Back to Tunkan.”

“A much better idea!” he exclaimed, “When are you leaving?”

“They’re on the trail already. I came back to tell you.” She went to the water dish on the ground beside the porch. She licked at the clear surface but discovered it was frozen. She gave it a few more licks.

“Gee, that was thoughtful. I would have been sick with worry. But you better get going, to catch up with your team!”

“I need to say goodbye to Rol.”

“That will be some trick!” Kotka laughed, “Have you learned to speak human?”

“Well, I need to see him, at least, before I go.” She was already searching intently the faces of those that filled her field of view, anxious to keep moving. Anxious to catch up with her comrades on the trail.

“You’d better not spend too much time looking for him or you’ll be alone on the trail!” He took a step to imply urgency, with a bright encouraging gleam in his eye.

She spun and darted off. “We won’t be long.” she barked over her shoulder, her parting words fading as she raced out of sight.

She made a complete circle again, all around the grounds, but could find no sign or scent of Rol anywhere. She thought perhaps he may be in the Lodge or another building with doors. Running up to the front entrance of the Lodge, she began barking repeatedly. A loud “Pay Attention!” bark, repeated twice for every breath, a non-stop stream of resonating calls. The door opened, and a woman stuck her head out, waved her hand at Sasha and bade her away. Sasha took advantage of the open door and bolted through it, running down the hall of the building, looking and smelling for Rol.

“Sasha!” she heard called from behind her, a room she’d just passed, and in an instant, Rol was in the hall running toward her. She ran to him, panting and tail wagging as he knelt to wrap his arms around her. She enjoyed the hug for one luxurious moment, and returned the gesture, pressing her face to his.

Then she stood, took a step, and faced the door. She looked back at Rol with another bark, “Come on!”

“Whoa! Whoa! Where are you going? You just got here.” the boy’s heart quickened. He was glad she had returned to him, somehow his favorite among the team he’d joined briefly. At least it was a living thing known and akin to him in some way. He had hoped to set out again with a team, cobbled together as best he could, to head north to search for his family. When he saw the team running away, his heart nearly burst. Not only did they leave him stranded for a dog team, he felt they were as fond of him as he was of them. Then, like Alexei, in a village full of people, he somehow felt alone.

Sasha repeated the step, stop and bark message. “Come on, Rol. We’re going to get Larik!”

“You want to go out?” Rol followed her to the door, his heart aching in his chest. He didn’t want her to run away again, but wouldn’t think of leashing her. He could only hope she wanted to stay here with him. This voluntary act made by every dog he has ever loved and who loved him. The freedom to leave answered by the desire to remain. It was a loving bond of trust. Rol was truly a dog person. He felt dogs were a special species among all. To be able to live with us as family. If she wanted to leave, Rol would not deny her liberty. He opened the door and trailed her outside.

She took two steps and let out two barks this time, trying to look impatient, trying to imply the direction of the trail.

“Where are you going?” he called to her. She ran back to him and barked again, took two steps.

“What do you want? Food? Water?”

She repeated the barking and stepping and pointing toward the trail, but Rol did not recognize any of the clues. She trotted a distance from him, toward the trail that beckoned to her to hasten.

“Okay. You want to go, don’t you?” Rol was resigned, but joy filled his heart that she had tried to bring him along. He looked on the beautiful dog with a great grin. “Okay. I can’t go with you, but you go ahead.”

She barked again, each unable to fully understand the other. Somehow, it seemed, a certain communication was still to be had between them. Rol smiled and waved his hand.

“Yes! Go!” he said cheerily, as one giving permission to a child to do as she pleased.

Sasha heard the word “Go”, yet saw Rol made no move to follow. A smile on the young man’s face was the final clue she needed. It seemed he was unable or unwilling to join her, but embraced her determination, trusting that she knew what she wanted, and reconciling himself to acceptance. She knew he would not be so sad after this exchange. She hadn’t really taken Rol to her heart until she saw how disappointed and melancholy he was as the team ran off. Barely a man, still half-child, she could not have gone knowing this, and knowing that he, too, seemed one apart from the other villagers. As if his pack, too, was scattered across the frozen plains.

Rol raised a hand and held it as Sasha sprinted for the mountain trail. He watched, this time baring a smile, until she again disappeared over the hill.

She’d gone just a short distance, to the first turn, where the trail curved sharply around the back of a large rock outcropping before a plunging descent. As she came around the turn she had to quickly side step to keep from running face first into Anchu. There the four members of the party were gathered. Umka lying on the ground licking at his foreleg, Stone pacing at the edge of the drop off.

“We had to wait for you.” Dak greeted her. “All set?”

She smiled and nodded in breathless, enthusiastic agreement.

Stone caught her eye as they got underway, “A pack needs to stick together.”

A Pack Divided

 

Restful sleep eluded Sasha her first night in the new iteration of Home. Her bed, designated by no more than her scent, had been scattered and re-purposed in her absence. Two dogs, nearly twins, now occupied the space, and so it was with the six other scented-and-otherwise-undesignated beds of her teammates. She wandered about, looking for a quiet, comfortable place to rest. A long overdue rest. Finally, sneaking in through a slim gap in the door, she found the shed from which the racing sled had emerged to contain none other than Kotka. He lay sleeping on a crumpled oilskin tarpaulin, directly in front of the door, and in the darkness she set a foot down on his snout. He leaped up with a yelp, sneezing twice and chuffing between.

“I’m sorry!” Sasha quickly offered to the unknown dog in the dark, “I didn’t see you. I’m terribly sorry!”

“I’m okay, Sosh.” Kotka said softly, recognizing her voice.

“Kotka!” She ran up to snuzzle him. “I’m so glad it’s you! Well, I don’t mean I’m glad it’s you I stepped on,” she continued in a nervous flush, “I mean I’m glad it’s you in here. I’m glad you found a quiet place. I didn’t see you…”

“It’s okay.” Kotka interrupted her blithering, “I’m glad you found me, too.”

The simple comfort of familiar company was enough to warm their hearts as the cold grew deeper through the night. Curling beside one another added the practical benefit of warmth, and they slept soundly for the first time after their long ordeal afield.

In her dream, Mother arrived at the Lodge. Unable to find Sasha, she stood in the center yard calling her name. She repeated it three times, then another voice joined in the search. In that strange world of sleep Sasha felt herself lying still, eyes closed, while Mother called over and over. She felt paralyzed, unable to open her eyes, move, or even speak. Kotka’s deep voice came through next, and on his second repetition of her name, her mind began to shift from sleep to waking. A moment of confusion and panic gripped her, in that space between dream world and the real one. In a moment, she fully awoke and took in the surroundings.

“Sasha!” Kotka called again, more loudly, adding a nose nudge.

Then she heard her name called again from the yard. And then again in the second voice, though now neither belonged to Mother.

“They’re searching for you in the yard.”

She leaped to her feet and squeezed out through the door of the shed, out into the gray morning. She was immediately struck by the cold, the world having fallen into a deep, frigid slumber while they all slept.

“Sasha! Sasha!” It was Umka, trotting the perimeter, scanning the faces of the innumerable dogs encamped now in these environs.

“Here! Umka!” She answered.

He snapped his head in the direction of the call, and galloped the short distance to her.

“Your brother is looking for you. He’s been trying to find you.”

She accompanied Umka at a fast trot across the snow-covered yard to an area behind the Dogs’ House. There stood Anchu, with Stone and Dak beside him.

“Anchu!” she called out, “What’s the matter?”

“There you are!” he replied, his tone of relief underpinned with impatience. “We’re going to find Tun.”

“What do you mean? I mean, how?”

“We caught a trace of scent on the Coldward trail, and we’re going to follow it.”

Dak and Stone nodded their heads and looked to the forest at the Coldward trail as if readying to go, hoping for Tun’s return, or imagining what fate may have befallen him.

Sasha replied hesitantly, “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. Suppose he returns here?”

“It’s the six of us here, and no one else knows us. We belong with Tun.” Dak offered.

“Five of us.” Stone interjected. “Alexei left this morning to find Larik.”

Stunned, they all stood in silence for a long moment, each sorting and weighing the situation in their own hearts and heads.

“This isn’t good. Not at all.” Sasha shook her head. “We’re a pack, and we need to stay that way. What’s happening to us? We should all be going with Lexi to find Larik. We never should have left him.”

“We didn’t really have much choice.” came Umka’s response. “We had to follow our driver’s commands. And we were starving. If Larik had come with us he could have gorged himself on fish.”

“No, no. We should have gone right back.”

“We were bound by duty,” Dak volunteered. “Getting Rol home safely was our priority.”

“Oh, I know.” Sasha said with reluctant resolve. “I know. Of course. But we should have gone back after we got Rol home.”

Silence again reigned over the group, sorting the many and sometimes conflicting feelings.

“But Tun.” Anchu posited, wavering in his commitment to the only plan he’d yet thought of. “We’re not a team without a musher.”

Sasha looked from one to the other, momentarily holding the gaze of each; Dak, Stone, Umka, Anchu. They stood in a sort of semi-circle, all eyes fixed on her. Silent. Beckoning. Almost pleading, as if she alone had the answer to all of this.

Clarity came to her quickly, as it so often did when she let her true and valiant heart guide her thoughts, feelings and actions. She raised her head as she confidently and matter-of-factly stated her summation.

“We need a musher to be a team, but we only need us to be a pack. We need to be a full pack before we can hope to be a full team again. Tun is capable of taking care of himself and everyone around him. Larik is one of us, and without us, may as well be one alone.”

Her last word, alone, seemed to float in the air around them, to ring in the trees and bounce from the snow beneath their feet, at which they were all now looking, heads hung.

“Of course you’re right, Sis.” Anchu acknowledged, seeing in her brief soliloquy the simple logic, the truth that is the heart of a pack.

“Thanks Sosh.” Dak said, raising his head to address her.

“Yeah, thanks.” Stone added, the others nodding their heads in agreement.

Without further conversation or hesitation they began, and headed for the trail back down the mountain. Nearing the trailhead, Sasha looked back at the crowded campus. The New Lodge Village was waking. Thick smoke billowed from fires starting up for the day. The sounds and signs of myriad activities began to fill the yard as it receded.

Then, at the edge of the clearing, she saw Rol. He was standing and watching Sasha and her teammates trot away down the trail. His face seemed to grow longer, his shoulders drooped. His hand went to his eyes as he turned and walked slowly and forlornly back toward the buildings.

Then The Lodge disappeared behind the hill.

Flight To The Mountain

Alexei continued his low whimpering as the team plied the eastbound trail, having left his brother Larik behind at the devastated village that had been Tunkan. The trail paralleled the river, and presently they came to the village fish wheel. This is a water wheel with baskets instead of paddles. Fish lifted in the baskets would be dumped to the side as the wheel came around to the holding bin. Herein could be held a hundred fish or more. Normally, folks from the village would empty the holding bin every day or every other at most. Now neglected several days, the bin overflowed, with many frozen, rotted or half-eaten fish lying on the ground. Fish now thrown onto the pile slid off, and they flipped and flopped until gravity returned them to the safety of the water.

Rol stopped the sled a few meters from the wheel, grabbed a fish for each dog, and tossed it to them. Having traveled two days without food, the team was ravenous, and Rol offered a second helping to those that ate their fill and looked for more. He then filled the sled bag with all the frozen fishes that would fit, all the while watching his perimeter for any signs of threat.

With the best intentions for feeding the hungry dogs, inexperienced Rol inadvertently hobbled the team. Now with full bellies they would be lethargic, and any strenuous work would result in stomach cramps and vomiting. As the boy tried to press the team eastward, the dogs ambled along slowly, until finally Stone stopped and sat behind Dak at the lead, halting all progress. The rest of the team followed suit, exhausted and stuffed with their meal, and laid down on the spot. No amount of coaxing from the driver could force them to stand, and finally Rol capitulated. They would rest here several hours, during which Rol sat on the sled until he dozed off. When he woke, snow was falling heavily. He and the sleeping dogs had a thick layer of snow on them. The boy rose, returned to the river to fetch water for the dogs, slaking his own thirst as well. Afterward, the group again began their eastward trek.

Before traveling far, the trail split around a spruce bog. The main trail bore right, leading around the swamp, back into the forest, the route to the river and the Dezhnevo Trail. The track to the left was much less worn, clearly used more by the wild inhabitants of the area than humans or dogs or sleds. With intent to avoid the merciless soldiers, Rol drove the team onto the narrow, northbound trail that skirted the bog before ascending the steep terrain. Snow continued to fall heavily, and the sky grew darker. The end of the day drew near. The sun, blocked from view by the snow storm, commenced its half-dip below the horizon. The occasional deciduous tree could be seen preparing for winter, dressed now in its autumn raiment of yellow, red, gold and brown leaves. Low growing plants set forth seeds, falling or blowing about, or transported by wild friends. The squeaky honking of a flock of snow geese could be heard crossing the sky, bound for milder climes. The air grew colder with each passing hour. The trail underfoot became hard as rock, and the snow accumulated on it.

As the team left the bog behind them, Rol spotted a flag hanging from a tree branch that arched over the trail. Several strips of leather had been tied together and hung. Perhaps this is a marker for a cache of goods, Rol thought. As desperate as his situation was, Rol would not disturb such a cache. Not only would it be unheard of to take something that doesn’t belong to you, but a cache on a trail could be a re-supply someone may be counting on. To rely on such a repository on a trek then find it to be missing could spell tragedy under the harshest conditions. As the team passed the flag, Rol saw the strips were fringes with a distinctive color pattern. When he saw it was the same pattern repeated on the racing sled and harness, he realized this flag was left by Tun. This caused him to pause and consider perhaps this was a message meant for him. Could Tun have cached provisions for the boy, having known he had just two days’ food and would find no re-supply at Tunkan? Maybe the fleeing group chose to lighten their loads by leaving some cargo behind. Knowing Tun’s thoughtfulness, it would be like him to leave something for Rol. Something from the Gifting Giant.

The sense of familiarity, the known, the link to someone fond of him brought Rol some warm comfort out on this lonely, cold trail. He stopped and secured the snow hook, and walked to the tree to look for a secreted stash. He walked all around the tree, kicking at the snow, and looked up the trunk for a pack tied above the reach of bears. He explored the adjacent area and trees, searched intently for anything that looked disturbed, out-of-place, or heaped in a pile. He could find nothing. Perhaps the flag was reference to something that no longer existed, or was simply a trail marker. Returning to the sled, the party again commenced to move steadily along in the snow-filled evening.

Not infrequently, the trail seemed to vanish through Larch stands, thickets, gaps between huge boulders. Often Rol could see no trail at all, and more than once feared he had missed a turn or made some misstep that led to a dead-end. Dak at the lead and the rest of the team never hesitated, and seemed to pick out the trail where none could be discerned, continuing on with steady uphill progress.

Before long, the group came upon another flag made of Tun’s jacket fringe. Rol again searched for a cache of goods, a map, anything that might be indicated by the marker. Again, his efforts were fruitless, and they pressed onward, presuming these were trail markers, yet encouraged by the thought that this was Tun’s trail. The team continued their ascent up the craggy side of the mountain, through narrow ravines in the ancient bedrock, across flat spans of granite covered in ankle-deep snow, across a tiny frozen creek where Rol stopped for water.

The half-set sun cast a surreal orange glow in the snowy sky as they came to a lean-to. Here, high on this hill, far from the main trail, Rol finally felt they could stop and pitch camp. He started a fire, keeping it small to avoid a plume of smoke that might advertise his presence. He gave another fish to each dog, and roasted one in the fire for himself. The first mouthful of fish seemed the finest thing Rol had ever tasted. He ravenously ate all the flesh he could strip from the bones, and crunched a few of the bones down as well. Fed and tired, he curled in a corner of the lean-to, wishing he’d grabbed a hide or blanket from the pile around Chimlik. The air grew increasingly colder, and just as he began to shiver a little, the wild Black and White Husky came over and curled beside him, pressing his body close to warm the boy. Rol was asleep in minutes, and in his slumber laid his arm across the big dog.

All the dogs slept deeply, except Alexei.

He would wake often, and stand facing the backtrail, staring for long periods of time. The steady snow piled atop him as if he were a statue. Only the occasional soft cry betraying his thoughts.

Spirit Guide

 

“Great,” Larik growled sarcastically, “some fool has burnt down the village. I hope there’s still food left.”

“But where is everyone?” Sasha queried, “Tun, and the other teams? All the teams. All the people and all the reindeer?”

The smell of the burnt buildings and yarangas hung heavily in the air. An overpowering, sickening smell. Not only wood, but fur, leather and fabrics, food, even metals, had burned and scorched in the conflagration.

“Easy. Easy. Slow now, slow.” Rol urged the team, cautiously approaching the village. He watched in every direction for signs of his people, signs of the invaders, signs of anything that could be of a threat, or of salvation. As he and the team drove toward the fur-clad heap in the center of the destroyed settlement, the sound of singing met their ears.

 

Guide us, Iluk-ener, take us home.

Remain steadfast, unmovable, however far we roam.

 

Watch over us, Oh Spirit Lights, with those of us who passed before,

And welcome us into the sky when we breathe the air no more.

 

Oh, Great Spirit, we have wept, our tears the great wide sea would fill,

When one is called aloft to you. Though they are free, we mourn them still.

 

We are Lygoravetlyan. From tundra wide to Enmitahin.

Iluk-ener, Spirit Lights, guide me home, and all my kin.

 

The dogs of the village spotted Sasha and the team, and immediately barked their “Intruder!” warning as they sped to meet the new arrivals. The moment they recognized the group as one of their own, they all began simultaneously to tell of the events in Tunkan, and to pepper them with questions.

“Woolgreen people ransacked the village!”

“They took everything with them!”

“Do you have any food?”

“Where have you come from?”

“Did you see the woolgreen men?”

“They set fire to everything.”

“They took all the food.”

Larik barked out brusquely “We don’t have any food!”.

“Well, maybe there is some left.” Stone stated encouragingly, throwing a displeased sideways glance at Larik. “We’ve come from the tundra, skyward. The soldiers, that is, the woolgreen men, were there already, and we had just left Tunkan two days ago, so they’re moving seaward.”

The team continued into the center of the settlement with Rol, the village dogs trotting alongside and barking excitedly. He stopped the sled beside the bulge and stepped from the runners. Walking around the pile of fur blankets, he found an opening. Within, aged eyes as blue as ice caught Rol’s gaze. It was Chimlik, Donat of Tunkan.

“Grandfather!” Rol addressed Chimlik with the customary title for any elder man, conveying reverence and respect. “Are you alright? What has happened here?”

“Yes.” Chimlik answered calmly, as if it were just an ordinary day. “I am well. The village has been raided by a war party. Everyone has gone.” He spoke as if telling a story of the hunt.

“A war party?” Rol’s eyes widened. “Who was it? Where did everyone go? Are they coming back?” Tears welled in his eyes, and his throat tightened around the words. Spoken aloud, even in his own voice, they reeked with terror. “Do you know where my family has gone?”

The old man waited patiently for the rattled boy to finish his string of questions.

“Who are you?” he asked with a relaxed air, as if pouring tea for a guest.

“I am Rol, son of Evgenii of the Chavchu.” His father’s name, and that of his clan, brought another lump to his throat, but Rol held up his chin with pride as the tears streaked down his face.

“Evgenii has gone with the rest.” Chimlik stated, as if there were no special significance to the fact.

“Did the war party take him?”

“No, child. Your father and a number of others fled just before the soldiers arrived. There was a girl, a Kamchadal, who came ahead of them with a warning.”

“Soldiers?” Rol was barely familiar with the term, and had never seen a soldier. He recalled stories of decades ago, how soldiers broke up the villages, tried to drive off the incongruous and inconvenient society at the far-flung reaches of a dawning empire.

“Yes. Army men from the west, in uniforms, riding horses.”

“Army soldiers? Horses?”

“Many people were still here when they came. The soldiers said they had to go with them.”

“Go to where, grandfather?” Rol tried desperately to appear manly before the revered leader, but could not help the tears running down his cheeks, his voice cracking. He tried to sound calm and oriented, brave and persistent, grownup and fearless. “Where have they taken my…”

The boy again burst out sobbing. “What will happen to them?” he squeaked out between gasping breaths.

“I wish I could answer your questions, boy, but I don’t know the answers. They are probably taken to be slave laborers.” Chimlik once again stated this quite matter-of-factly. As if they were not sitting amid the devastation of the burnt-out village. As if they were not speaking of people they know, loved ones and family. As if they were discussing things happening far away to unknown people.

“Slaves?” Rol sobbed, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

“But your father went with Tun and Ilja, and Nachic.” He paused, trying to recall the others that fled before the invasion. “There were a number of them. Dorik and Tulaen. And Evgy. They went east, and took the children with them.”

“Went where? Where did they go?”

“I wish I knew, child. I wish I could tell you.” Chimlik was without pretense or stoicism, and tears flowed down his round cheeks. The many streaks in the dirt on his face gave evidence they were not the first. He placed his hand on Rol’s shoulder and held it there. He made several futile attempts to return to the song of his life. The song he had learned before he was old enough to remember the occasion. Its verses sung with his parents, his brothers and sister, friends, aunts and uncles, cousins. On the trail, moving the herds, in the warm yaranga, or on a hilltop, alone with the universe.

As fixed as the North Star, Polaris- Iluk-ener- the unmoveable star, Chimlik and his people were as much a part of the Chukchi peninsula as the glacier and the trees, the volcano and the snow, the wolves and the reindeer. The one and only original man- Lygoravetlyan- and Chimlik was confident his life and fate had been created, directed and known to the Spirit Lights of his ancestors always. One will never know the circumstance of one’s death beforehand. This is a great secret to the Spirits, and that in itself is a gift to mankind. That one may move through one’s days with the understanding that you will arise each day until the day comes when you rise no more, and therefore, live with no worry of it.

Several attempts to start the song met with resistance in Chimlik’s throat. A lump choking him, causing him to breathe in rattling gasps. He was surprised, and compelled to tears of joy, at the accuracy of his recollection of his mother’s voice.

“Guide us Iluk-ener. Show us the way.

Show us the way…” he trailed off, looking to the top of the volcano.

Show us the way, Rol thought. His mind had gone blank, unable to see past the shock and loss, the devastation and horror, the black pall of grief. Chimlik sang between sobs.

“From tundra wide to Enmitahin.”

Immediately, Rol felt this was his answer to his unspoken prayer to the Spirit Lights for guidance. This was the way!

“Enmitahin!” Rol shouted out, startling Chimlik enough to halt his singing. “That’s where they’ve gone!” He felt an impulse to begin running without hesitation to find his family. Again, his father’s lessons came to the forefront of his mind: “First, we don’t panic.” He repeated the sentence over and over in his head but the words seemed to have no meaning. Try as he might, the thought could not take hold. “They have gone to The End of The Cliff. I will take you there.” Rol suddenly had a task for his reeling mind to focus on.

“No, boy. I stay here.”

“But grandfather, you’ll die if I leave you here alone.” Rol said, “What will you eat?”

“I am on my Spirit Journey already. It began when the soldiers burned the village. I am Donat of Tunkan. Without Tunkan, I am nothing.”

“I will leave you the food I have.” Rol pulled out a small sack containing the rest of the jerky Tun had packed for him. “It’s not much.”.

“No.” Chimlik spoke resolutely and raised the palm of his hand. “No thank you. I have all I need.”

In Chukchi culture, when a man reaches an age where he can no longer leave the yaranga and go out to contribute to the constant work of living in this extreme environment, his time is spent. One fortunate enough to have a son would call for the ritual of death: a knife plunged quickly into the heart. Rol would do nothing to interfere with Chimlik’s Spirit Journey, one’s last journey, into the heavens to join his ancestors among the stars.

“Good journey.” was all Rol could think of to say, as he shook the ice-cold hand of the old man.

“So, there’s no food I guess.” Larik observed, disappointed but not surprised.

Sasha was more concerned with all the inhabitants of the village than her stomach. She added these to the list including Bek’s family and all the dogs of the old homestead, including her own Mother.

Rol felt lost. He wasn’t really sure how to get where he was going, and realized he was completely unprepared for an extended trek. This was shadowed by an overpowering sense that he must leave here, escape this place, and search for his family.

“Up!Up! Let’s go!” Rol leaned against the back bow to push.

“Is this kid crazy?” Larik snarled, “I’m tired. And I’m hungry. I’m not going.” He laid in his traces, refusing to stand.

“Come on! Let’s go! Mush!” Rol cajoled and coaxed the team.

“We’re all tired.” Dak said with some compassion. “Let’s do the best we can.”

“I already have. I’m not going.” Larik laid his head on his forepaws.

Rol walked over and unceremoniously unhitched Larik’s tug line and neck line, leaving the wheel position empty, and returned to the back bow.

“Come on you guys,” Rol pleaded with the team, “I need to find my family. Up! Mush!”

“Let’s go.” Stone stated in a tone that sounded saddened and frustrated, but resigned to the task before them.

“Without Larik?” Alexei was beside himself with astonishment.

Dak began to move, and with him the harness that bound them as a team.

“Can’t we rest here?” Umka offered, “With Chimlik?” The sled was already moving, and Rol stepped onto the runners.

“But Larik!” Alexei was panicked now. Resisted the tug line, whipped his head around to all the team and back to where Larik lay, his chin on his forepaws, only his eyes moving as he watched the group recede. Alexei let out several loud whimpers.

“He’ll be alright.” Sasha tried to console Alexei, “He’s with all those other dogs.”

The words seemed to fly over Alexei’s head as he continued looking over his shoulder, repeating his cries.

“Leave him to his heartache.” Stone said, meeting Sasha’s eye, “Larik is his brother.”

“Yes. I know what it’s like to leave your pack behind.” she replied soberly.

“No. I mean birth brother. They have never been apart.” Stone looked down as he spoke, “Until today.”

“Wait!” Chimlik shouted at the sight of the ornate racing sled, previously hidden from view. “How do you come to be driving that sled?”

“Whoa! Whoa!” Rol stopped the team and looked back. “It’s Tun’s. He had me take it to Bek’s”

“You are the boy whose coming was foretold. I am to tell you they went to the castle of the giant until freeze-up. Then they will go to the Mountain In The Sea.”

“I don’t understand.” Rol had Chimlik repeat the directions.

“I only remembered when I saw the sled.” the old man stated. He could be of no more help, he said. That was what he was told to say to the boy returning from the tundra with the racing sled.

Rol added this to the jumble of thoughts and emotions racing through his mind, in which he was already on his journey, picking the trails he would take to reach Enmitahin while avoiding the soldiers.

Without rest or food, the team was again underway, plying the trail eastward. Each in turn would take just one look over their shoulder, save Alexei, who could not take his eyes from his brother. The bright sun beamed down on them, and sparkling snowflakes began to dance earthward, as Rol, Sasha and what remained of the team left Tunkan for the last time.

Spokes And Spires

Rol left the house in good order, save the burnt food smell, and insured the door was latched and would not blow open again, as he found it. He flipped the burnt food pail upside down behind the shed, and scrubbed the other cook pot clean before hitching the team.

“It feels strange this time. Leaving here.” Sasha said. “Last time it felt like I was leaving my whole world behind. Now it’s just a distant memory. This could be any place, any yard, any doghouse.”

“Perhaps we’ll meet up on the trail.” Anchu offered, always looking for the positive, the silver lining in any situation. “Or maybe in Tunkan.”

“Up! Up!” Rol commanded, as the team stood and tensioned the gangline.

“All those dogs.” Sasha spoke her thoughts out loud. “Who would take all the dogs?”

“Hike! Hike!” the call came, and the team plied the trail eastward.

At the top of the valley wall, Sasha decided she would not look back. All the way up the long draw of the sidecut she had thought of turning her gaze at the top. Back upon the trail to her once-beloved home. To look to the place where Mother stood patiently watching Sasha and Anchu leaving. She found herself thinking in a different light as she and the team ascended the ridge. There are times for looking back, looking long. Times to hold these visions close in our hearts and minds.

Then there are times for not looking back. This needn’t represent an ending or beginning. There are times for looking forward. Times for seeking and seeing what is before us. Time to leave the dreams of last night’s slumber, and look to define new dreams, new destinations, new aspirations. What is past is now history, memory. It cannot be affected or altered any more than one could remove the sun from the sky. Good and bad, memories will always remain unchanged, unaffected by time.

A feeling rose within her. She began to feel and see herself as an independent being. Not only part of the team, not only part of a pack. Not only part of Tun’s family, not only Anchu’s sister, but one equal and kindred to all other dogs, and yet apart. She saw in her life a wheel around which the outboard aspects of her world turned. She remained centered, the hub.

There was a spoke of now and today. Rol and the team returning eastward, returning to Tun and Tati and the village. And here was a spoke populated by her old homestead; Bek, Nina, Jiak, Kotka, Mother, Nona the Cat. The dogs’ yard. A house with her name on it.

Another spoke ran all the way to the top of the mountain, past Tear-In-The-Rocks Creek, to Tun’s hilltop Lodge, its solitude and sanctuary, its freedom and comforts. Still another led to Kantuk. Jiak and Tati sharing afternoons together. Sasha playing with laughing children, or sleeping in the warm yaranga. Simple, happy times that now seemed long ago, yet the smiles and the sun shone as brightly as the last day she was there. The warmth of the love and happiness shared then filled her now, as the team trekked past Silver Creek, and up the Tunkan Trail.

Elsewhere, another spoke of the wheel reached down into darkness. It was filled with mystery and fright and longing. Strangers and soldiers. Illnesses and wringing hands, hastily sent messengers. Peering down a long cave, the images faded into the darkness. Danger unseen, yet sensed. Cold violence and cruel death hidden within, veiled in blackness.

Opposite this spoke’s fearful composition, one that reached all the way to the heavens. It touched and stirred the Spirit Lights that danced above. It was white as snow and shined as brightly as the stars. It was safety and surety, warmth and welcoming. It was the spoke of love, all around and above her. From her first vision of Mother to the love of her life, Jiak. From kind and caring Bek and Nina to the wonder-filled joy and love of Tun. It was kisses on the head from Tati, congratulations from Akej, hugs of laughing children.

As these thoughts swirled around her mind and heart, she looked up the trail to the top of the hill ahead. Beyond it stood the mighty mountain, the ancient dormant volcano that stood watch over Tunkan. Tiny crystals of ice floated down through the air and were illuminated by the sun, streaming up the trail. A glittering, sparkling column reached skyward and seemed to clasp the hands of the Spirit Lights, joining past, present and future.

A great sense of peace and belonging washed over Sasha as she observed the shining spire of ice and light. How could she not have thought of this before? How all of Mother’s teachings guided her to this very place in her life, this moment of realization.

“A pack does not need to be all the same species.” Mother had told her when the whole world consisted only of Bek, Nina, Jiak, Nona the Cat and the dogs in the yard. “We are all of us a pack.” she concluded.

Sasha thought of the wheel. Bek and Jiak, Tun and Tati. Her team, Akej’s team, Ilja’s team. Of Chimlik and Sarut. Of Kotka and Rol, Rol’s family and herd. The bears, the wolves, the owls and the sables. “We are all of us a pack!” she spoke her thoughts again. As she returned her gaze to the Earth, she marvelled at a newfound feeling within. A warmth and belonging. She now saw everything around her as her own. Not only part of her world, but part of her life. Simultaneously she felt as if she, too, belonged to all these things. The people and the dogs, the Spirit Lights and the snow, the volcano and the trees. She was overwhelmed with a joy hitherto unknown. All the world is her pack, she realized.

“We are all of us a pack.” she repeated the words as if hearing them for the first time. Indeed, she felt as if she were seeing the world anew. There must be a reason for this, something must have awakened and inspired this spirit. She vowed to waste no time at this moment trying to discern what the trigger may have been. She’d have the rest of her life to reflect on that. For now, all she wanted was to experience this fullness of spirit, this lightness of being. She felt as if no worry could vex her that she could not see as part of the wheel, this great ballet of life, this kaleidoscope world. She rather suddenly felt she loved everything. Even the fierce wolverine, even the rabbits deigned prey.

She watched Kotka trotting along beside the team, and thought of his harrowing tale of fearsome intruders. She thought of the people called soldiers. She could not understand their actions, yet felt still that these, too, were part of her pack. “A mean dog has a reason to be so.” It was as if Mother were whispering the lesson in her ear. Surely the soldiers, too, had reason for their malevolence. This thought, that these so foreign to her, and perhaps evil, were equally a part of the wheel, raced around in her head. Their deeds may be harmful, but they still deserved love and respect. This dichotomy pulled at opposite ends of her heartstrings. On one hand, these wayward ones are still us, still part of our pack. And on the other, the heartache of her own kin, and the unresolved quandary of their present location and condition. Emotions swirled like snow devils as she and the team topped the last rise before Tunkan came into view.

“Stop! Stop!” Rol shouted excitedly, momentarily forgetting mushing commands. “Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!” he repeated, “Hold up!”. Still standing on the runners of the racing sled, his hands holding an iron grip on the backbow, Rol began to shake with fear. He stood, wide-eyed, his mouth hanging open, as he looked into the village.

“Oh Great Spirit!” he called out, for protection and safety, for consolation and assurance, or perhaps to wipe away the terrible scene before him. The boy who was almost a man could not contain himself, and burst into tears, sobbing uncontrollably, the heels of his hands pressed to his eyes.

There, spread across the tundra before him, were the remains of Tunkan. The village he’d left just two days ago filled with revelers and racers, children and campfires, dogs and reindeer and laughing out loud. Now, smoke rose from blackened wood frames of cabins burned to the ground. Not a single one of the dozen buildings was spared. Several yarangas were collapsed into heaps, plumes of black smoke rising from them.

Rol was terrified by the scene, and felt that those responsible may still be near, felt he may be apprehended at any moment. He jumped off the sled and hid behind a boulder, eyeing the destruction. He stayed there, frozen in fear and time, observing the smoldering village, looking for signs of life, of his people. No person could be seen, the only activity a half-dozen dogs that scampered from one smoking mass to another. They would each go to a spot in the center of the village and stop, lie down for a while. Some would remain here as others came and went. They seemed to be huddled around a bulge covered by a blanket of furs. It shocked him to see the bulge move. A hand reached out and touched a dog. Just a touch to the head, held for a long minute, then the hand withdrew. The dog continued to stand and stare at the bulge for another minute, its tail swinging slowly side to side in relaxed, friendly motion that was completely out of context in the midst of utter destruction.

Someone was there. Someone remained in the village amidst the smoke and debris, where not another soul could be found. The touch of the hand to the dog proved it was not some unknown marauder. Now Rol reconsidered the scenario at Bek’s. Perhaps the family did not simply go somewhere. Perhaps those responsible for this preceded Rol to the homestead. This served only to increase Rol’s fears. Suddenly he worried about his family. His parents and sister, though not at festival, could be gone already. He had to get to the village. Whomsoever was in the bulge must know something about what occurred here. Maybe they were the only people left on the peninsula, he and the bulge with a hand.

“Mush up! Let’s go!”

The team drove into the place that was once the village of Tunkan.