The Hollow Grove: The Companions [Book 2]

[25] On The Move

She made the doll from sticks and twigs bound tight the traditional way. The leg tendon of a native bull ram that roamed the snow-covered mountain range was split, unraveled, soaked, wrapped, and laid to dry leaving the sticks bound with the strongest glue. The same way she was taught to bind a sharp, steel arrowhead to the shaft, she carefully crafted the doll. She ran her fingers along the smooth leather skin stuffed with raven feathers that were supposed to be used for fletching. The doll's crude face was always smiling and it made her smile to know the doll was happy. Scraps of white fur from a harvested rabbit made crude clothing. It was time for the final touches. Though, try as she did, she couldn't get the pitch glue to bond the snippet of her auburn hair to the leather scalp.

"What is the meaning of this?"

Her father's voice was deep and gruff. His face, hardened from winter and war, twisted in disgust. She stowed the doll away behind her.

"I said what are you doing, girl?" her father asked again.

"Nothing, Papa," said the girl. She was tall for her age, but still a child.

He snatched her by the arm. "Come out of there." He moved too fast. Always too fast.

I will be as fast as him one day, she thought.

He pulled her from the small room carved into the mountain, out to the main gathering hall, outside into the bitter cold and finally to the ever-fire. She tried to pull away, but he was too strong. Always too strong.

I will be stronger than him one day, she thought.

The snow was packed down firm from the rest of the tribe going about their chores and training for the next battle. Nearby, a massive Tushkari polar bear was bearing her cubs into the world with quick, insufferable groans. In the years to come, they would become the mounts that would carry the warriors into battle. The father and the daughter strode without sandals, or boots to the fire. Other members of the tribe were stretching skins on large rectangular racks and scraping the last bits of fat off the hide. Some were training with wooden weapons.

He threw her down near the joining circle and tossed the doll into the ever-fire without ceremony.

She watched as the doll resisted the heat. Discipline stayed her cry. Finally, though, the flames took over as it always did and became one with the ever-fire. She read the smoke as it curled up into the air, hoping for a message from the gods. As she formed the first word, her father snatched her up by the armpit and dragged her to the eastern snow banks where the boys were wrestling. Wrestling one boy at a time was now far too easy for her. They were never happy when she beat them and they would often gang up on her three, or four to one. Today there were six wearing nothing but simple loincloths in the bitter wind.

"If you have time to make dolls, you have time to train," said her father loud enough for the whole tribe to hear. "Boys..." he nodded to the group. They already knew what to do.

Before he pushed her into the snow pile, he said to her, "Remember, you are Tushkar."

One of the smaller boys pushed her from behind, then a lanky tall one tackled her legs to take her down. She knew their names, but they were just objects to her and it was easier to give them labels like "rock" and "stick and "lightning" to help her remember how to beat them. She would not beat them today, but she would give them the fight of the wolf. Her father made sure of this. It was their way. It was the way of the Tushkar.

A kind, familiar voice came to her. "Anyu, did you hear what I said?"

Jordy waved his hand in front of her face in a green blur.