Spread
out on the plain below was a small herd of antelope. While her clanmates smiled
around her, Shadra frowned. The herd was too small, much smaller than in
seasons past. Still, meat was meat.
She
gestured right, then left. The hunters spread out in either direction around
the rim of the valley. Their plan was simple—try to encircle the herd as well
as they could, pursue them down the valley, and separate several of the larger
animals, preferably bucks. That would provide the clan with meat for the winter
while enabling the herd to replenish itself for future turnings.
Shadra
scanned the rim of the valley and saw that the hunters were properly deployed.
She raised her left arm, then dropped it. The hunters charged down the valley
walls on their horses, trying to drive the antelope down the valley.
Shadra
urged her horse forward. When she reached the valley floor, she scanned the
herd. Seeing a large buck toward the rear of the herd, she whipped her bow from
her back in one smooth motion. Guiding her horse with her knees as she fitted
an arrow, she maneuvered herself between the herd and the buck. As she pulled
even with the separated animal, she took aim, drew back her arrow, and let it
fly. The feathered shaft pierced the antelope between the shoulder blades. It
dropped immediately.
She
brought her horse to a stop and leaped from the saddle, knife ready to dispatch
the animal if it still lived. There was no need. Her aim had been true. Looking
after the retreating herd, she saw that four or five of her clanmates had also
been successful. They were busy bleeding and dressing their kills for the
journey home. Shadra nodded in satisfaction and knelt to do the same, muttering
a prayer of thanks that they would not go hungry this winter.
All
the hunters were laughing and celebrating, except for Shadra who rode quietly
at the back of the party, Kreeva flying overhead. As she passed by the yurts of
her clan, the happy faces of her clanmates turned troubled. Some muttered among
themselves. “Sixteen. She should be looking to marry and set up her own yurt.
She is too much of a free spirit. Independent. A man seeking to rein her in
might just as well try to corral the wind.”
The
looks and the talk were all too familiar to Shadra. In the hard, often
unpredictable life on the steppes, clan life was rigidly structured. It was not
to keep everyone in their place, but a matter of survival. In the harsh,
unforgiving land of the steppes, everyone had a role to fill to ensure the
clan’s survival. Men were the strong, the hunters, and the protectors. They
were the clan’s leaders, making all decisions. One wrong decision could spell
the end of the clan. The women were the caretakers. They were supposed to marry
and produce children, cook food, wash clothes, and maintain a comfortable home
for their man and children.
Shadra’s
mother was waiting for her outside her family’s yurt. Her mother bowed.
“Welcome home daughter. I see that you have caught us a nice, fat antelope. You
must be tired after the hunt. Come down off your horse and rest a while.”
“Father
is not here.”
“No, he
is resting inside. His leg is giving him much pain today.”
Shadra
frowned and nodded. She dismounted, and Kreeva circled down onto the wooden
perch in front of their round tent. She hoisted the antelope carcass off the
back of her horse and laid it out on the dry grass in front of their yurt. Then
she led her horse to the clan’s horse yurt, a large, circular tent with
straight sides and a roof that sloped gently to a peak.
Shadra
led her horse inside. The air was filled with the scent of hay and horse. She
removed her wooden saddle and gave the horse a quick rubdown. She patted the
horse saying, “Well done, Sho-Lun. Rest a while. We may need to hunt again
soon.”
She
headed back to her family’s yurt. She smiled slightly at the sight of her
mother something was coming.butchering her catch in front of their yurt. While
smaller than the large horse yurt, it was of the same overall design. It sat on
top of a wheeled wooden platform, and two wooden steps led to the entrance. It
was constructed of animal hides stitched together and placed over a wooden
frame. Smoke from the fire inside rose lazily from the center vent. The sides
of the yurt were painted with brightly colored pictures. Shadra remembered when
she had been allowed to add a painting of her own. It was an eagle in flight,
just to the right of the entrance. She had only been eight seasons old when she
painted it, and she shook her head as she looked at it now. It was not quite
the Fangpiece she had thought it was when she completed it.
She got
down beside her mother in the grass and helped her process the kill. They
worked silently together. As they did, her mother kept giving her sidelong
glances. Shadra knew something was coming.
“This is
a good antelope,” her mother said. “It will see us through a good portion of
the winter.”
“Mhm,”
was all Shadra said.
“I must
admit that you are a good hunter.”
“Here it
comes,” Shadra thought.
“But it
really is not a woman’s place to be out hunting with the men. Do not mistake
me, we are grateful for the food that your bow and your eagle provide, but it
is shameful that our daughter must supply it.”
Shadra
stopped her work and looked directly at her mother. “We have had this
conversation many times before. What else can I do? Father’s injury does not
allow him to hunt. Would you have us starve? Worse yet, would you have us beg
food from our neighbors? I am perfectly able to hunt. In fact, I enjoy it. It
gives me purpose.”
“Your
purpose is to raise a family of your own. You are now 16 seasons old—good
marrying age. You should be trying to attract a man, not out on hunts overnight
with men, acting like a man.”
“I am
not acting like a man, Mother. I am a hunter. I have skill and a purpose. I am
the best hunter in the village. Everyone knows it. It was what I was born to
do.”
“You
were born to marry and have children. There are several eligible men in the
clan. What about Shi Po? He is a handsome lad and strong. He would make a good
husband for you.”
Shadra
rolled her eyes. “He is a child, hanging about with the other man-children in
this clan. He has no ambition. He only cares about what others think of him. He
pretends to be manly, but he is a little boy. He has no idea what he wants to
do with his life.”
“And
what do you want to do with your life, Shadra?” her mother asked. “What is it
you seek? As if anyone has a choice. We are what we are, that is all we are
meant to be. It has been that way for a thousand years here on the steppes. It
is the only way to be if we are to survive. For generations, the Eagle Clan has
followed this way, as have all the other clans of the steppes.”
“But
there are other ways, mother. What makes you think that our way is the only way
that will work? How are we supposed to improve our lot? Are we doomed to follow
the same path as our forefathers, never learning, never growing? What kind of
life is that?”
“A good
life, an honorable life,” her mother shot back. “What is so wrong with our ways
that you want to cast aside what had served us well for a thousand years? So,
you want to change things. To upset the balance of what our people have been
able to achieve. Why? You are bringing nothing but dishonor down upon your
family and your clan.”
“She
does not bring dishonor.”
Shadra
and her mother turned. A middle-aged man stood at the top step of their yurt.
His dark, weather-beaten skin and gray hair and beard belonged to an older man
that he. He balanced on a crutch, his right foot barely touching the step.
He
hobbled down the stairs. “Our daughter does not bring dishonor upon us. She is
our support. We may not like that it must fall to a girl, er, a woman to do so.
That is not our way. Still, we are blessed that we have been given someone to
do so. I am proud of her. She is as good as any son.”
Her
mother nodded, and she did as well. Her father’s words although meant kindly,
did not sit well with Shadra. Her father was being practical. His words came
out of necessity, not understanding. Like her mother, her father did not truly
understand her need to be something different.
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