Greenland No More (Chapter 1)

An unnatural darkness had descended on the little patch of the northern Atlantic that cradled the tiny transport ship bound for the Greenlandic Colony. A horrendous spring storm was battering the Knorr, pitching it left and right, up and down, tossing its inhabitants and their goods about like chestnuts in a Christmas fire.

The already seasick Norse Settlers were beginning to regret their decision in making such a risky trip. A young girl was holding tight to her bunk support pole, her homespun dressing gown dipping into the water that had accumulated in the bottom of the ship. She was watching her Father and Mother try to gather up their spilled belonging. She could hear the retching sounds of many of her companions stomachs rejecting their meager meals. She wasn’t sick like so many of those who surrounded her now was she regretting her Father’s decision, but the total opposite. She was enjoying this grand adventure, even the parts that scared her slightly. Facing death was worth it, if it meant seeing things she never dreamed of. Anything was better than boring old Denmark.

The Captain had called all hands hours ago and it didn’t seem that the crew would return for a long time. There seemed no end to the Gales that shook the ship. The timber creaked as it threatened to give way and tiny droplets of water appeared along the seams near the keel. Young Valli and her mother Agnar could hear the crunching of wood against wood as the sails of the Knorr crashed against each other. Her mother gave her a look that spoke of fear; for she knew the ship must surely sink beneath the waves. Once the remnants of their life were haphazardly stowed, Her Father sat his tiny family down on the lowest bunk. He looked at them each in the eyes, his wife first and then his daughter. His green eyes were the same color as his daughter’s, who starred back at him in wonder. They were not the only features he had lent her. She had his broad nose and high forehead which gave way to her mother’s Reddish hair.

“All our belongings are stowed up tight. We should keep them like this; at all times, even in the calm of a sunny day to avoid this mess again.” He looked back and forth between them. They shook their heads in agreement. “No that I have seen to you two, I must see to the storm… They need more men up on deck. I have experience. They can use me up there” He hugged each of them.

“No! You can’t!!” his wife begged. “I almost lost you once to the sea, I don’t want to risk that again.”

“I don’t want to lose you either. That is why I have to go. I have to make sure this boat makes it to the colony. Besides what is life worth without a few risks? Eh?” He brought his hand up to her chin and kissed her. Then he kissed his daughter on her forehead and rushed to help.

He bounded past the other panicked settlers with a deftness of spirit and disappeared into the darkness up the slippery steps to the foredeck.

The knorr’s deck was slippery with foaming seawater and the soap from a Swabs pail which had overturned in the tossing. When his naked feet came in contact with the mixture, he slipped sideways, slamming into the ships railing; almost going overboard head and left shoulder first. He tightened his fingernails in the carved ridge of the railing for support and paused to get his bearings.

Once he was sure of his location in relation to the sails he began to work his way toward a group of crew trying to tie them down.

Before he could open his mouth to offer help, the crossbar of the largest mast came crashing down. Out of instinct, He rushed forward and pushed a young cabin boy out of the way and took the brunt of the sideways motion. The heavy wooden timber pinned him to a netted stack of cargo. He let out a stifled grunt as the blow crushed the air from his lungs. His sight went black as his life left him, chasing after his breath off into the cloudy sky. His empty shell of a body laid still, slumped over the cargo.

With the current danger passed the crew whom had seen his bravery rushed to help him. The cabin boy he had saved him knelt at his side and rolled him over so the men could see the face of such bravery. His green eyes were open; starring, looking past that crewmen and into the devilish storm beyond the ships half lighted surroundings. The Christian members of the crew crossed themselves and those whose hats remained on their heads, removed them in respect.

The storm abated just then as if it too honored the hero. The ship ceased to pitch and came to a near stop in the quiet of the storms eye. The crew was not immediately sure who this man was. He must be a passenger, the cabin boy thought, he wasn’t wearing a seafarers clothes. But yet he was up on deck, helping with the rigging. He must have once been a Salt before.

From the Pilot box, the Captain could see that his sea-soaked men had stopped their work and were gathering at the base of the main mast. He called out to them to explain themselves as he worked his way down the debris littered deck and forced his way to the center of the mob. There he saw the dead man. He recognized the man as one of his passengers, a weaver if he recalled correctly; destined for the Colony with his wife and young daughter. He looked around at the faces of his men. No one spoke. Time froze. He could do nothing but take in the scene. As a seasoned sailor, he had sea death on deck many times, but this time something was different. It was as if this one death would change his life forever.
The quiet was shattered as the door to below decks was thrown open as the Hero’s daughter sprang from the smoky darkness. She had inexplicably known something had happened to her Father. ‘How interesting.’ The Captain thought.

“Papa!?”

Valli stood in the doorway looking for him, her own feet as bare as her fathers. Her dressing gown clinging wetly around her ankles where she had ran through the seawater that has poured down into the bowls of the knorr. The men turned toward the sudden burst of sound, subconsciously parting; she could see her Father form slumped on the deck. She let out a sound somewhere between the eep of a scared mouse and the death squawk of a seabird.

He laid, propped up against the main cargo stack. Her eyes opened wide in horror as she saw his vacant eyes and still chest. With this realization a scream rose up from her slender throat. She ran toward the center of the ship, splinters digging into the balls of feet as she jumped across the deck her toes magically missing every piece of debris as if she jumped about the deck of a sailing ship everyday with her eyes closed.

‘She must have inherited her Fathers talent for the sea.’ The Captain thought as he watched her.

When she reached her Fathers body, her scream faded into quiet sobs. She threw herself on top of his body as if to shield it from the seamen’s view. Her loosened hair spread over his face and shoulder, as red as the blood that had begun to trickle from his mouth. Her shoulders and back shook with her ethereal sobs. She couldn’t fathom life without her Father. He was the only person she had ever felt really understood her.

Life was fleeting for a Salt and death as common an ordeal as preparing an evening meal. And still the Captain could not stomach the scene before him. He fell back from the group and took stock of the storm before he stole downstairs to find the Hero’s woman and break the news.

He took off his hat and wiped the sea water from his chestnut hair with a confident flick of his wrist. He sharp eyes scanned the horizon. The storm was moving on to the east, back where they had sailed into it. The way ahead was lightening as the clouds parted to reveal the stone gray sky of the northern Atlantic once more to his sight. The sun was rising back beyond the storm clouds but its muted pinks were beginning to reflect off the high smooth clouds of the western sky. They had made it through another night and yet another storm mostly intact. The sacrifice of the Weaver had meant he still had a main sail support, for it had smashed against the boy and cargo it would have surely snapped in two. Not to mention his sister would never have let him forget it was his ship had killed her only son, Orn.

He set back to the group and whispered commands to a few selected crewmen, who withdrew from the saddening sight and picked up their duties. He had to ready the ship to sail at once. He went below and called for the Hero’s wife and the priest who was accompanied this latest batch of Settlers.

Agnar had turned from her bunk to help an older woman stow her spilt religious carvings back into their guided boxes. She was holding her gown up above her knees scandalously as she gathered up the statues of Mary the Mother with her free hand. She had not seen that her daughter had ventured up onto the deck. She was just realizing that she was gone when she heard heavy boots on the stair. She pushed a loosed strand of her reddish-blonde her hair out of eyes and turned to see the Captain descending them with a grave countenance upon his face. He was upset and scanning the settlers with an inquiring eye.

She was considering approaching him to apologize for whatever mischief Valli must have done and to ask of her husband, but when she heard him call her name along with that of Brother Ivar. Something was terribly wrong, she knew. Bile rose up in her throat.

‘He’s dead. No it can’t be’ the thought slammed into her brain like a boat against an unknown reef. She fainted dead away at the foot of the stair, her newly dyed crimson over-gown which she had been holding out of harm’s way, now leached its pigment into the pooled water that surrounded her inert form.

With Brother Ivar’s help the captain hoisted her up into his arms and carried her out into the light of a dawning day.

Morning had always been Valli’s favorite time of day. But this morning would forever change the way she viewed its dulcet purple hues. The Captain had ordered the anchor downed so everyone could gather on the starboard side. Her Father was wrapped in the linen from his bunk. She could see his frozen face through the thin weave of the fabric. She would never look upon that face again. Inside she raged. Outwardly, she was a pillar of strength and propriety.

She must be. That was how proud Norse Women were said to behave, and she had always likened herself to the Valkries of old Legend. Strong warrior women who served the old God Odin by escorting the proud fallen to the afterlife. If only she could accompany her Father’s soul to heaven as they did for Heroes in the past. She wondered what they did now that Christ was the only God in heaven….

Agnar stood close to her daughter trying to absorb her strength, but to no avail. She felt as if she would faint again at any moment. Her eyes focused on the floor. Her hair was still in disarray from the fight to stow their things, she didn’t care what she looked like anymore, there was no longer anyone to look on her in such a way.

She couldn’t gaze upon her husband’s body without a sudden wave of nausea bowling her over. What was she going to do? Should she turn back with the boat or trudge on into the wilderness of the colony? She was lost. Her daughter grasped her hand and squeezed it as if to say ‘stay with me, I’m still here.’ She squeezed back faintly; she couldn’t expend any energy without the weakness prevailing. She only continued to star down at the weathered boards of the top deck, hoping they would throw him over quickly.

The Rites were small and quick. The cabin boy spoke of how brave and selfless the Hero had been in saving him and how he would never forget him and even wanted to name his first born boy child after him and would forever remember him in a saga he intended to write.

It made Valli proud to know her Father would be remembered like a Hero of old.
Brother Ivar spoke then. Only quietly reciting the Lords Prayer and making the sign of the cross. Then the captain whispered something no one could hear into her Father’s ear and the first mate and a couple of others lifted the Hero up and slid him foot first over the railing and dropped him into the water.

“He deserves better than this…” The Captain said, putting his hat back into place.

“Yes he does uncle, he deserve a Pier befitting his honor.” The cabin boy watched as the body gained some buoyancy and bobbed to the service.

Agnar gasped and fainted again at the sight. Valli knelt beside her, taking her hand.
“Lets get this hulk moving, no reason to sit here and watch the shark take him.” The captain barked. He picked Agnar up off the salted boards. “Come child.”

‘Child! How dare he! I am almost a woman.’ She thought but followed dutifully as they entered the Captains cabin.

Her mother laid most of the day in the Captains bunk. Shocked, dismayed and lost in her own miasma of sadness .Valli brought her some biscuits and dried mutton from their rations near sunset. Her mother was sitting up in the bedding, wringing her hands. Her face was drawn with a mixture of grief and worry.

“We’ll be all right mother. We have a lease already and we can raise animals and.. and weave and sew and mend for the people in Godshad. A few cows, sheep, and goats can’t be that hard for me to raise” She put the food next to her mother on the mattress. “And you can do the mending and the milking, easy stuff… I can be the Man now!” Valli knew she was rambling, but she wasn’t sure what to say. And she needed to bring her Mother back to the there are now. She thought maybe she was talking just to calm herself.

Her Mother looked up and dropped her hands.

“It is not your place to be the man. What you must do now is find a man who will marry you and has a large enough family to help us work our lease” she picked up the biscuit and nibbled at it absently. “Here, have my mutton. My stomach can’t handle something so heavy right now.”
Valli could not believe her ears. Had her mother actually just said she should marry now? She wasn’t done with life yet, she didn’t want to be packed away in a house breeding and cleaning up after people. She wanted more out of the life God had given her. She wanted adventure like Her Father had had before marrying her Mother. She wanted to see the wide expanse of creation God had provided them. She didn’t want to live a narrow life and have a narrow mind like almost everyone she had ever met.

Anger flew up into her cheeks. She stomped out of the cabin slamming the door behind her without a single word or gesture and continued stomping until she reached as far as she could walk from the cabin door.

She slumped against the aft railing and continued to fume. Maybe she should just jump overboard and be done with it. Perhaps Christ had a job similar to Valkrie she could do. She knew heaven had to be better than living a shackled life on earth. Just then she heard hard bottom boots step up beside her. It was the Captain.

“Don’t let you mother bother you, Mistress Valli. She’s just lost the love of her life. She would only grieve more if it had been you. Its going to take her some time to return to the woman you know.”.

“She wants me to marry. You’re not available are you?” Valli asked with acidity.

The Captain smiled. “I thank thee for your interest in a ship’s life. But I am not the marrying type. But I do see where you would be more taken by a life on the sea, under the open air and not one huddled in a sod house with babies hanging off your gown.” He snickered. “You defiantly don’t have the temperament for that. You have a warrior soul, my girl. I see that in you”.

Her face brightened.

“Then let me stay.” She turned to him resolutely. “Hire me as you would any other young man. I would serve you as good as any cabin boy.”

“ I already have my nephew and he’s learning the trade well. Besides, my sister would beat me something fierce if I sent him back home.”

She looked at him skeptically.

“Oh you haven’t met her…” He laughed again. “Her temper is worse than yours and she’s taller than I am.

Valli was standing with her cheeks puffed out and her hands on her hips.

“But I’ll tell you this. I’ll talk with your Mother, maybe I can calm her down a bit. You can spend time up here on the deck with the men, until we reach the Colony as long as you can handle yourself and help out when they will let you, maybe you will learn something. But the Gods have set your path in motion, you can’t hide from it. When this boat lands you have to continue with your mother to the life your father wanted for you. Your destiny awaits you in the lush fjords of Greenland.“

Valli bonded with the crew almost immediately and they shared with her their rations of whiskey and let her join in their revelry. They sang songs and she told her fathers old sailing stories and they toasted him late into the night. They danced and ate and gave her Father a hearty Viking sendoff that reminded her of what life must have been like before the Christ came. The captain had ordered all their belongings be moved into his cabin and also had two net hammocks hung for him and Valli to sleep in. By the time Valli had had her fill of Whiskey and song, the Captain retired to his cabin. The hanging lantern over the desk had been extinguished and the cabin was dark.

She could hear a rustling of sheets on the bunk and could see that both hammocks were empty. She could hear the soft sounds she hoped where only her imagination given she wasn’t used to drinking, but she knew they weren’t. She had heard many a time when her Parents laid together. Her eyes welled up with tears. She couldn’t bear to think of her mother giving herself to anyone, even if it was a nice Pagan man like the Captain. She felt betrayed for herself and for her Father, not yet even dead a whole day. She felt she might vomit. She walked backwards out of the cabin, her bare feet padding silently across the boards and returned the door back to its closed position; they hadn’t even noticed her coming or going. ‘So much the better’ she thought.

She slowly walked up to the pilot box where Orn, the cabin boy was standing over the wheel. It was his first time navigating, and he was awake and determined to do a good job at it. When he saw her face he knew the reason for her return to the deck. He wanted to hug her and make all her sadness vanish like sand upon a beach, but he couldn’t leave his post. He was starting to like her very much. He’d not spent any time with girls like her.

All the ones at his Mothers party’s had been quiet and vacant headed or addle minded and religious as was the fashion at Court. Valli was different. She was hearty and brash like a man, yet still feminine and pretty like a courtier. She would definitely be the model from which he would base all other women from. She was the kind of soul he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Sad thing was, he knew she was one of a kind. He took one hand off the wheel and wrapped it around her shoulders. She was shivering even through her mantel.

She was crying.

“Maybe this means you will get to stay.” He said, his heart felt light at the thought.

“Oh I do hope so!” she wiped the angry tears from her eyes, yawned, laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. “I do hope so.”

***

The morning air was crisp around the Inuit village of Maniitsoq when Anore emerged from his families animal hide covered lodge. He was a short boy, dark-haired and olive skinned. He was wearing his very best hunting clothing. Elk, white bear and Walrus hide pants, tunic, and coat with a fur lined hood. He was overdressed in comparison to the others who surrounded him.

The whole population of the village had risen early to see him off on his coming of age journey. Everyone was still in their sleeping skins and mocs. And the children were wrapped in their bedding furs. They huddled together in family groups, their anxious faces ready to cheer him on as he left on his traditional quest. The Gods and ancestor spirits would give him guidance and his totem animal would lead him into adulthood. A few of the men and old women muttered and chatted to each other, wagering on what his totem would be based on how he had acted as a child.

The sun was but a ghost of itself reluctantly peeking out from below the still snow covered glacier east of the village. With a slap from the hide door flap, Anore’s small family joined him in the doorway of their lodge. Young Sialuk, Anore’s baby brother pulled at his furs, wanting to be pulled up into Anore’s arms. He picked him up and received a hug.

“Luck and health” he slurred through his newly grown milk teeth.

Anore’s Father, Qiluk put his hand on his oldest son’s shoulder to remind him that he needed to go. Anore turned and handed Sialuk to his mother and stepped out into the crowd. A whoop of celebration rang through the village and escaped out into the forest beyond disturbing a still feeding elk family and echoed against the imposing mountains.
The village elder-woman emerged from her lodge and parted the throng with a wave of her hand and a low guttural sound. She crossed the clearing to place a necklace of un-carved wood and sinew around Anore’s neck.

“After your animal spirit comes to you spend a day and night more away and carve an image of it into this ornament. It will then be with you always to guard and guide. Now go and find your future.”

She turned to the crowd and lifted her arms. Her brightly dyed and beaded ritual hide wrap, jingled as it shifted on her shoulders. “When he returns to us, he will be a full grown man.”

His family lined up to hug him. His little Brother was first. Second was his short, plump identical twin sisters; Aput and Qanik. Then his mother, whom he was named after; kissed him on the forehead.

“Luck and health, my son.” Tears appeared in the corners of her eyes. Even though she had three children still, She wasn’t yet ready for her first baby to be a man.

And lastly his father approached hugging him roughly and slapping him on the back.
The crowd parted so he could cross out of the village boundary. Everyone stood and watched him until he disappeared into the foggy morning forest.

He felt strong and ready to meet any challenge as he charged off into the wilderness. Even though he has heard horrific tales of survival and frightening visions from those who had taken the journey before, He had been ready to take this journey for seasons. He did not fear the Gods and Spirits. He knew that Ukat; the goddess of good luck favored him. She had since she had saved him from death as a baby. And he knew no reason to for his ancestors to distain him. He had always gladly done what was required of him by his family. So he knew he would make it to manhood and that since a goddess had deemed him important enough to save in his youth, that he must have something important to accomplish as a man.

Despite the advice given to him that he should get a sound sleep, He had been up all of the previous night pondering what spirit would come to him. Would it be that of the elk, strong and thoughtful? Would it be the fur seal, quick and mischievous? Or would it be the white bear; the cunning outsider, who would claim him? He would accept what came, but he did have his favorites. He emerged from the forest and into the edge of a low green plain, which in one direction ended abruptly at the sea and in the other slowly sloped up into the snow capped and rocky regions that made up the center of the island.

He stopped and looked eastward, wondering what would await him if he traversed the barrens and come out on the other side at the water. He knew from stories he had heard in Godthab, the Tallman’s village which in his people called Nuuk, that blue gray water surrounded the land on all sides and that land even lay beyond the waters where other peoples and new unknown animals lived, flew and swam. He loved his family, his village and his land… but he longed to see what nature other gods had made for their peoples.

He Looked around. The sky was brightening as the sun rose. The purples that had once reflected off the snowy peaks now fell into yellow rays that lit the plain and cascaded into the shadows of the cliffs which ran along the shore and abutted the great waters of the Whale’s sea.

Now that he was here, out in the wilderness, where should be journey to? He had been looking forward to this day for years, but he never thought about what he should do or where he should go. He knew where he was physically and how to navigate to anywhere he wanted to go, even to the Tallman’s village, although he knew it wasn’t the time for trade and stories. But even knowing his location didn’t help him, he was spiritually lost.
But he knew if he just opened to the guidance his ancestors offered that they would tell him where to go.

He sat down on a large boulder and ran his bone knife through the earth, drawing a equal cross. He laid his knife down with the place where the handle met the blade laying across the center where the two lines crossed. He spun it and sat back to await which direction it would point. It took some time for the blade to stop spinning. When it did, it pointed back in the direction of his village and the Tall Man’s village beyond.

“Well, the ancestors say to go that way… I’ll go that way.” He replaced his knife back into his left boot and stood. I go where you guard and guide. Show my future to me, so I may meet it bravely.” He set off back the way he had come.

He followed his footsteps back the edge of the forest, he could see glimpses of his village through the silent needles of the trees. He knew he couldn’t return home this soon; the God and spirits had not yet come to him, he was not yet a man. He would skirt the village and then continue south. He picked his way quietly and quickly though the forest fringe until he had come out near the path leading to Nuuk. He wanted to take it, for it would make for easy walking, but he knew he must leave the comforts of man to commune with the non-man.

As the sun rose, its warmth spread, even down through the Pine and Adler canopy that Anore explored. The small day animals were beginning to stir in the undergrowth, foraging for tiny berry snacks and fallen needles to pad their burrows. It was a three day journey to the tall mans stone village if one followed the path, it extended into five days with Anore making his way though in the wilds. After three days without food or sleep, Anore’s head began to swim and he was forced to stop and lay down out of fear he might lose his footing and fall as he traveled close to the seaside cliffs, he didn’t want to pass out and plummet to an icy wet death.

He was not yet ready to take a meal with Pana the Goddess of the life that comes after. He wanted to experience more of his first life, lay with a woman, watch his children grow, help his village someday grow to the size Nuuk had once be been before their God’s far away War . He wanted to successfully return to his village and celebrate his accomplishment with food and drumming. But first he needed sleep, so the spirits could come to him and give him the inspiration for his life song.

He found a niche in the hillside under the shelter of a small pine where a portion of the soil had eroded away, exposing some of the root system. He piled fallen needles into a long half circular pile around the niche and climbed inside. It was more comfortable then he had expected. It was daylight and warm, but he knew when night fell the temperatures would fall fast. He pulled his hood closer around his face, and down over his eyes. He lay circled up in a ball with only his back exposed to the outside air. He closed his eyes and began humming, the melody to his life song coming to him as easy as his own breath. He welcomed the fevered sleep that followed. It calmed his fraying nerves and silenced his complaining stomach.

But his peaceful slumber did not last long… He slipped down into the misty realm of mystery where God and Fallen ancestors eternally danced their life songs jumbled into a maddening cacophony of life experience. The discordance assaulted his senses. He fought his way though the noise by humming his melody louder and faster until it drowned out all others and silence prevailed.
Anore found himself in completely darkness. The air around him was thick with moisture as if a heavy fog had enveloped everything around him. The darkness was so all encompassing that he could not even see his hand in front of his face. At first he thought he might be dead and the feelings of moving his arm and legs were only phantoms. He could feel the mist and a light breeze move across the skin of his face as he whipped his head this way and that; straining to see even the tiniest glint of something.

Where was he? He had never seen a darkness so complete, even on a moonless and starless night. Not even during a relentless winter storm. He did not know where he was going, but he began walking; or what he thought was walking. He didn’t think standing in one place was a good course of action, and his only alternative at the moment was just striking out. He had to have faith that he would eventually find himself where he needed to be. He had noticed this in life, he figured it was the same in death.

He noticed the longer he walked the lighter his surroundings became. He began to see shapes squirm in the peripheral of his vision. He couldn’t make out their form at first. Then as if a blanket had been pulled from his face, the fuzzy environment cleared like stream water as the mud settled back down into the bed after a hunting party had trudged though it. He was surrounded by bustling people going about their daily lives. He tried to get their attention, but it was as if they could not see or hear them.

At first he was angry they couldn’t see him. Then he began to despair about it. He sat down on the ground where he stood, crossing his legs underneath himself. What was he supposed to do? He didn’t’ know what was wanted of him. He had always relied on his parents’ advice when he got stuck on a problem and couldn’t see a way out himself. His parents weren’t here. No one he knew was here. Then it hit him. He had to stand on his own. Part of being an adult was making your own decisions on life, based on your own sovereign thoughts, feelings, and perceptions.

He stood up valiantly with purpose and tenacity. He looked around confidently and chose the second lodge he saw. He walked to it. A man stood in front of him.

“I wouldn’t go in there, if I were you.” The man advised.

“But you are not ME, now are you.? Only a man can choose his fate from the choices the Gods have set before him. Unless you are a God and have chosen to remove this choice from in front of me, I must insist with all due respect that you let me pass.” The man stepped aside, a look of pride on his face.

Anore stepped through the door hide and found himself inexplicably outside again. But this time he was standing knee deep in snow. He was out in the Nordseta, the traditional winter hunting grounds his tribe shared with other Inuit. He was alone, no party was with him. His stomach grumbled fiercely. It was a hunger such as he had never felt. He could not resist the urge to hunt something, whether it was rabbit or elk. The first animal he saw, he would stalk, take its life and eat it right there on the frozen plain.

It was easy to take the rabbit that hopped right up to him as if it were a gift. But it did not satiate him. Then a small reindeer happened to catch his eye from a distance. Even sucking the marrow from its bones did not lessen his hunger. Then he caught the tracks of a great white bear leading into an area heavily wooded with pine and Adler. Surely the enormousness of the white bear would fill him and end this torture. But he wasn’t sure he could take such large prey down by himself. Was he supposed to? Didn’t a man sometimes have to be willing to except help? But he didn’t see any help he could take.
He followed the bear’s tracks for hours, never getting any closer. Then just as he was about to give up, he rounded a small rise and there it was. It was negotiating a steep hill. He could only see it from behind. It was smaller then he had expected, it looked sickly thin and its white coat had patches of yellow. He continued to stalk it. No matter how fast he followed or tried to flank it, it could never get any closer to it.

He finally gave up and decided to make camp for the night. He dug down into the snow until the hole was deep enough that he could lay in it without any part of his body would lay exposed above the snow line. Then he piled the snow he had dug up into curved walls and a domed roof. He left a hole just large enough for his slight form to wiggle through. He looked around expecting the bear to have continued on, out of his sight. But it was still there. He climbed into the snow shelter and pulled some remaining now in to plug up the entrance.

It was still cold, but tolerably so. He would not freeze to death this night. He stopped to think. Can one freeze to death if the cold is only a dream? And if it were only a dream; why could he not wake himself from it? And if he were dreaming could he even sleep in such an existence? He fell asleep immediately and woke almost as fast as the sun shone through the snow and illuminated the inside of the shelter. He pushed the snow plug outward and clambered out into the extremely bright day.

A wooded plank had been laid in front of his shelter. And placed upon it was a file of what he thought from the smell must be some animal flash. It was steaming like a fresh kill but it was brown instead of red and looked as if it had been charred by a wildfire. But it did smell good. He looked around to see who might have placed it there. He saw no one save the White bear. It was sitting close enough to him that it could have pounced. But he did not, It only sat with its back to him. He called out to it.

“Are you my guardian?”

The bear did not move.

His stomach renewed its grumbling. He reached out and pulled at a bit of the meat. It came off In a grain that suggested that it was indeed animal flesh. It was warm against his fingers and tasted divine in his mouth. It was easier to chew than the fresh meat his tribe normally ate. And its warmth remained even as he swallowed it down. It was surprisingly satisfying and eating very little actually filled him up. When he was full, he turned toward the bear. It still had not moved. He slowly stood, expecting it to move; but it did not.

No longer hungry or afraid of it, he approached the it. As he neared it, he realized it was not a white bear, but a person wearing a covering of white bear hide. It must be one of my ancestor spirits come to help me, he thought. He tugged on its shoulder to spin the sitting figure around. When the being turned around it clearly not one of his ancestors; her skin was fair and her eyes were the color of the spring grasses that poked up out of the last melting layer of winter snow. She smiled at him.

A curious feeling swept over him. His whole body felt lighter, as if he would take flight like the falcon and fly over the ridge and all the way back to his village.

“It takes courage meet your future with strength.” She said. Her voice melodious..

“Pana?” He asked. She smiled and kissed him on the forehead as his mother had done when she had sent him off.

He closed his eyes, feeling the place where her lips touched his skin burn with a white hot heat. That radiated out and encompassed his whole body. When he opened his eyes again he was laying awake in his tree shelter. He was looking up at where the roots joined the trunk. He rolled over and faced the open clearing.

It was a chilly morning. But he felt good. His long dream journey had taken only one night. He felt rested and rejuvenated. Had he passed the tests? Was he a man now?? The wood square that hung from his neck bobbed against his chest as he stood up to stretch.
Yes he was ready to return, once he carved his White Bear totem… the mice had left some half wilted berries for him.

He ate them slowly one by one, savoring their sweetness. They would go well with the meat from his dream. He sat back and thought of the God who had kissed him. She didn’t look like the carvings of the gods he had seen. He thought perhaps she was the Lady the Tall Men sometimes prayed to in their stone and glass lodge in the center of their village. But what was she doing invading his vision?

He decided not to tell anyone about her, only about the white bear and that it had shared
its own kill with him.

He found a small cave some bit off the road where he could sit and meditate in dryness and carve his totem, It took him only one day to carve the bear. He put it around his neck and admired it. He liked the way it looked. He had carved the face almost human-like without realizing it. But it didn’t look out of place. It fit somehow, despite the blockiness of the body and paws.

The sun was fading. He retired to the comfort of the cave. With only a small fire burning in the entrance for its light, he laid staring up at the low ceiling. He could reach up and touch its smooth soft surface. He was hit with the grip of creativity. He scuttled out to the berry bush and grabbed a few of the overripe berries. He then stopped at an Ash tree he has seen a little ways away from his shelter. He returned to the cave with them, climbed back in and along with some ash from the dying fringe of his elderly fire, he painted the likeness of himself next to the mysterious Goddess Spirit from his vision. He pictured the couple holding hands like family. He painted them smiling at each other and painted the outline of a large sun over their heads. He was proud by his little painting. But he knew he could show no one the art, ever. But he felt his eyes would not be the only eyes who would behold his masterpiece.

He awoke in the morning to the sound of a human voice flying on the seaborne air from the south. He let his totem fall against his chest where it would remain all of his days.
He walked to the edge of the cliff and looked out at the water. He could see a large wooden sailing vessel trying to navigate the rocky bits that edged the cove. He could see a Tallman standing at the front of the boat. It was shorter than most traders and wore a blood red cloth tied over his head. There were a number of whole families fighting for deck space at the railings, wanting to be the first ones to see something new. How he longed to see something new.

Perhaps he would someday leave on one of these ships.

Another man came to stand next to the first one Anore had seen. He was only slightly taller than the first and wore a trader’s hat. He put his arm around the first mans shoulders just as a strong wind tore the red cloth loose from the man’s head. It flew overboard, exposing a think mop of long berry-red hair. It was a woman! As she had moved to grasp the cloth, he could see her silhouette. She was just barely a woman, but she wore strange clothes for a Tallman wife. She wore their spun wool pants and tunic, a long sleeveless overcoat fastened with a green sash, instead of the flowing gowns of fabric that impeded their movements. His mother had said once that the Tallmen kept their women in these contraptions so they couldn’t run away. Obviously this man with her wasn’t afraid of that. The woman saw him then, and pointed at him. The man next to her put one of his hands over his eyes to shield them from the suns glare.

Anore jumped back from the cliff edge and ducked down out of sight. He needed to be getting back home. He had a feast to attend and he had to tell his father that more Tallmen had come to fight for the already thinning game and usable summer land. But that conversation could wait until after the feasting and drumming. He had his personal song to perform tonight. And he would make his family proud.