Chapter 5

One morning I was near the cliff when I spied an elk with calf moving slowly in the valley below. I saw where the calf settled in the shade for the day, and determined to go down and kill it. Quickly getting my bow and arrows and telling Mataoka of our opportunity, I eased down our ladder and slowly stalked towards the bushes where I knew the calf to be.

The mother was still too close, and she saw me approach and charged me. I ducked behind a tree trunk and the elk came to a halt over the calf and snorted challengingly. Then the calf and mother moved off at a gentle trot. Without thinking, I started to follow them, hoping to get another chance.

Five minutes later, I spied them there, ahead of me, paused and looking back over their shoulders at me. I loosed my arrow at too great a distance and it slowed greatly as it coasted into them, striking the mother on the flank but not sticking in. They took off again, and again I followed.

All day I hounded them, trying to get close as they stopped. Each time, they moved on. It was a mercy they we staying in the shade of the forest. I was beginning to struggle to keep up with them.

But they were struggling more; with exhaustion, they were trotting less far each time, and letting me get ever closer before they ran again. As dusk was fading to night I saw the calf collapse and end up sitting down, exhausted. The mother stood guard over it, staring at me, daring me to approach. I got close and the mother didn’t move. I took a shot but my arrow missed, as I was now suffering exhaustion, too. As dark descended I tried to spot where my arrow had fallen so I could retrieve it in the morning.

At dawn I awoke and found my quarry still waiting, watching me. I moved towards them, now very close, and the mother turned and ran and the calf staggered up and followed. Ignoring my hunger, I searched for my arrow and then followed them. Eventually I saw them ahead, the calf now sitting down again. This time I felt it was different. I knew the calf couldn’t go any further, and I think the mother sensed that, too. She stood sentinel, holding me at bay, for much of the morning. Around lunchtime, she turned and trotted away, abandoning the calf! I moved in to finish it with my small knife.

I had chased them many miles down the valley and I needed to forage for berries to sustain me while I carried the calf homewards on a hastily fashioned sled. Although just a calf, the calf was much too big and heavy for me to lift comfortably myself, but was straightforward enough lashed to, and dragged on some poles. It took me until that evening to get home.

I related to Mataoka how the hunt had gone and she assessed the calf approvingly. We butchered and hung it down below the cliffs and just lifted individual cuts up to our camp. And so we feasted on the tenderest of venison for several days. Now I knew it was worth pursuing young and injured prey that I spooked, even for several days, as they would surely tire before I did. It would be a most effective hunting method for the rest of my days.

Spring was turning to summer and I had already got half the timber I thought I needed trimmed and floated and stacked down at the south end near the camp. I was heartily sick of the sight of the tumble of pines up stream, though, so I decided that I would move what I had up to the house platform before I continued preparing more logs.

Work was sweaty and back breaking, and in the evenings Mataoka would soothe my shoulders after I’d soaked in the evening in our pool. She made small quantities of a soft balm from wild herbs, and this both burned and chilled at the same time, but afterwards left me ache free and I would awake in the morning fit and ready to do more. Mataoka also insisted I shave my beard, and sometimes helped me. Having her so close, her round warm face near, her big dark eyes studying my chin so intently, affected me mightily and it was a delightful embarrassment for the both of us. But, she explained, she could do a much better job than I could do myself by studying my own reflection in a still puddle.

The logs were not as heavy as I feared, and I could just about heave them up one end at a time. I managed to walk the logs up the gentle slope, with Mataoka holding the log back with a stay to keep it from rolling down again as I kept going from end to end and heaving it another couple of feet towards the destination. We could move two dozen logs a day but it was backbreaking work. Still, it felt good to make progress at this while we were waiting for the corn to sprout.

As darkness closed there was just one more log to move, so, despite our exhaustion, we decided to move it before supper. And by the time we had manhandled it up the the platform it was almost dark and we went together to the warm spring to clean off, no time to take turns.

By the pool there was already a neat pile of spruce needles to throw in. They would quickly drift off down stream but there were always more needles to be found, and it made a nice smell and eased the pains.

“No peeking,” Mataoka grinned as she shoved me around so I had my back to her. She told me when I could get in myself. I saw she turned around, too, so she couldn’t see me strip, either. I eased, naked, into the warm pool beside her. With just our shoulders showing we turned back inwards, soothing in the warm balm. It was so dark I could hardly see her, but for the sparkle of her eyes reflecting the last filtering of dusky light.

I felt her hand brushing out towards me, seeking mine. We held hands across the tiny pool. It was a good way to keep our distance, to hold us apart, to make sure we didn’t float embarrassingly close to one another.

I had cuddled Eliza on cold nights when we were much younger, but this was nothing like that. This was as close to a girl as I had ever been. I knew we were truly alone, probably not another living soul for fifty miles in any direction, but a sudden fear of exposing my feelings made me want to push her away, to stand up, to retreat. Protect her from me. I scared myself, and what I might do to her.

“Mataoka, I was wondering,” I croaked. She was watching me nervously. “Why did you follow me?”

“You a brave now.” I could see the slight white flash of a smile. “Why you think I follow you?” It was an artful deflection.

“And why did all the other braves follow you?” Two could play at asking questions back.