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@@ -149,19 +149,46 @@ This is how another war starts, the final war in which the cities are burned out # boat intro -The wind was from the North. She sat up. The north. The wind was from the north. "tkname," she yelled into the hatch. "Tell Papa the wind has shifted. Comin' fr'up noth." She laughed imitating the old accent. +A soft breeze woke Iza in her berth. She'd left the portal above her open when she went to bed because it was stuffy and the wind and rain never came from the north anyway. Wait, she sat up suddenly. The breeze was coming in the portal. The breeze was from the North. The north. "Karrin," she yelled. "Tell Papa the wind has shifted." There was no response. "Karrin," she yelled again. There was still no response. She much have gone ahore Iza realized. Damn. She grabbed a shirt from the locker above her head and rolled out of bed. She put on the shirt as she climbed up the companionway. -The old man was on deck in a beat, vaulting out of the hold with lightness that belied his age. He had no hair, but for some stubble around the back of his head. His skin was a deep brown, whether by nature or by sun was unclear since he had never been out of the sun. He was of medium height, but had a boxer's lithe build and a sprightly manner of walking that came from years striding ships wood decks. "Noth eh?" +She went to the stern hatch that led to her father's room, the captains quarters as he liked to call it. "Papa. Wind comin' fr'up noth." She laughed imitating the old accent. -She smiled at him. He didn't just imitate the old speech, he had grown up in it and while it had faded, certain words brought it out. He glanced up at the tethers atop the mast. They fluttered lightly, but unmistakably to the south. The wind was indeed out of the north. Well then. Nearly time to head down. He glanced at his daughter, then over at the rocky, pine and oak covered shore. "You think there's any blueberries left up in that clearing?" +The old man was on deck in a beat, vaulting up the stairs and out of the hold with lightness that belied his age. He had no hair, but for some stubble around the back of his head. His skin was a deep brown, whether by nature or by sun was unclear since his daughters had never known him to be out of the sun. He was of medium height, but had a boxer's lithe build and a sprightly manner of walking that came from years striding ships wood decks. "Noth eh?" + +She smiled at him. He didn't just imitate the old speech, he had grown up in it. While it had faded, certain words still brought it out. He glanced up at the tethers atop the mast. They fluttered lightly, but unmistakably to the south. The wind was indeed out of the north. "Well then. Nearly time to head down." He glanced at his daughter, then over at the rocky, pine and oak covered shore. "You think there's any blueberries left up in that clearing?" She nodded. -He stretched his arms and swayed about the waist. "You think those old bears left us some? Well then, where's your sister? Let's go get em. You eaten?" +He stretched his arms and swayed about the waist, half yawning, half stretching. "You think those old bears left us some? Well then, where's your sister? Let's go get em. You eaten?" "Had some fish." -"Fish? What you eaten fish for at a meat camp?" He laughed. 'Couldn't force a fish down my throat when I'm up here. But you do what you want." He turned back toward the companionway. "I'm going to carve up a slice of something and then we'll head in get some blueberries so we can start some mead for the ceremonies." +"Fish? What you eaten fish for up here?" He laughed. 'Couldn't force a fish down my throat when I'm up here. But you do what you want." He turned back toward the companionway. "I'm going to carve up a slice of something and then we'll head in get some blueberries so we can start some mead for the ceremonies." + +--- + +She stepped lightly, silently through the shadows and the forest. She knew her father was several paces to her right, but through the play of shadow and light in the rustling of the leaves. The wind was strong enough to rattle the birch leaves, the pines that towered over the edge of the glade she moved through cast deeper shadows to the left. The noise of the leaves was enough to cover any missteps, but she had her pride to contend with. She put her feet down slowly, feeling the contour of leaves and twigs before putting her full weight down. She shifted her foot to avoid what felt like a dry maple leaf, only the find she had brought her weight down on a tough, dry strip of birch bark that dug deep into the soft middle of her foot. She winced but did not let the bowstring slack. + +Four paces ahead the birch abruptly stopped. There was a clearing, made by her father several years ago. In it they'd been mounding acorn and sour mash, on top of buried caches of the same. Boar, according to her father, love to dig for their food. The first day they eat the easy food, but what they really like is the buried food, they like to work for it. Like you Iza said. Her father smiled at her, yeah, I suppose a little like me. + +The trick was shooting them. Despite being her father's daughter, Iza had never put an arrow in anything larger than a beaver. She was a fair shot at waddling beaver, but a snorting snarling pig with six inch tusks on either side of it's sizable teeth was another matter entirely. She was terrified of boar. She'd have rather hunted wolves or grizzlies. But her father insisted that his contribution to the Lughnas be boar. Specifically boar rendered in its own fat in the traditional way. And she here she stood, creeping up on a clearing where an animal ten times her weight and twice her size was busy rooting around in folded birch bark containers they'd buried two days ago. What happened to gathering blueberries, she thought to herself. + +She brought her arm up, ready to shoot as she inched up to and then relaxed against the birch. She glances around quickly, trying to find something climbable if the hunt took a turn for the worse, as her father had put it. She reasoned she could probably vault herself into the limbs of a fir if worst came to worst. She brought her mind back to the task and hand. + +The boar had its head down, rooting a mixture of dug soil, roots, and the remnants of their birch bark container that had been full of acorns. She looked to the side of it, so as not to stare. Animals did not like to be stared at. They could feel your stare. The boar's neck was too low to shoot at though. Then her father's imitation of a scholing Chickadee rang out and boat suddenly lifted it's head. Before she realized she'd done it, the arrow was gone and she was pulling another out of her quiver without taking her eyes from the boar, but boar had already slumped on its side, her arrow was deep in its shoulder and a second had gone straight into its throat. She saw her father move out into the open now and put two more arrows into it. + +Iza! + +She ran over and he grabbed her in a bear hug. That one was you. Look! that is your arrow, went right through to the heart. Amazing shot. + +Lucky papa. I was too scared to be anything more than lucky. + +There is no such thing as luck Iza. Take credit for the skills your training has built. + +She smiled. Okay Papa, maybe it was. I don't know. I don't remember letting the arrow fly. + +That is good said her father excitedly, that is excellant. You are hunting then. That is good. Very good. her rubbed his hands together and turned around, still muttering to himself, or perhaps to her, she wasn't sure, but she could no longer understand him until he said, 'You shoot like a huge warrior hunter, but alas, you are not very big." He scratched at the stubble on the back of his had. "How are we going to move this beast Iza? I don't want to clean it here, this bait circle might still be good. We will have to travois the body out of here and back to the shore. We can butcher it there. He moved to the opposite edge of the clearing and began to hack at two birch saplings with the small hatchet he carried on his belt. It took a minute but he soon had then cut and stripped into poles. + --- |