Savage Winter (19 page)

“I almost wish we had never left the cave, Morning Song. At least we were warm there.”

Morning Song pointed to the steep, icy slope that faced them like an unyielding fortress. “When we reach the top of that last steep mountain, we will then begin our descent into the valley. It will be warmer when we get out of these mountains, and much easier going.”

Joanna was so cold and weary, she wished she could just give up. Thinking of her baby gave her the strength she needed to go on. It seemed to be an effort just to put one foot in front of the other. She knew they were making very slow progress. Many times the two girls fell on the ice-slick slope, but each time they got back up, dusted the snow off, and forged ahead, their sights always on the steep mountain just ahead of them.

It was almost dark when Joanna fell to her knees, knowing she hadn’t the strength to go another step. They were now at the base of the mountain, and she realized she had neither the will nor the inclination to go on.

Morning Song sensed that Joanna had reached her limit. She looked around until she spotted what she thought was a place that would give them some protection from the wind and snow. Clearing the snow away from around a huge rock that jutted out overhead, she helped Joanna get beneath it. Covering her up with the buffalo robe, she set about cutting limbs from a pine tree.

Joanna leaned back against the rock and closed her eyes. Her teeth were chattering together, and her hands and feet felt numb with cold. She tried to close her mind to the howling wind and the devastating cold.

Morning Song piled the branches from the pine trees about Joanna to form a shelter. She then piled up a stack of dead branches and dropped to her knees, striking the two flint rocks together. Soon she was rewarded by a spark that caught the wood. She was tired and cold, but she forced herself to get up and search for more wood, fearing Joanna would freeze to death. It was very difficult finding wood, since it was buried beneath several feet of snow.

Stumbling forward, she dropped her meager armful of wood and bent to build up the fire. She knew that the fire wouldn’t last very long, but it would warm them for the moment, and she was too weary to search for more.

Morning Song climbed beneath the buffalo robe with Joanna. Even though they were both exhausted, neither girl slept that night. They were hungry and cold, and in the distance they could hear the howling of the timber wolves.

The next morning, they each ate a handful of the berries and the last of the bitter root and started off again. Each step was an effort, and when they started climbing the mountain they again began the interminable backsliding, getting up, starting up again.

But by late afternoon they stood on level ground, with the wide valley in front of them! Joanna collapsed on the snow, and tears of frustration washed down her face. Morning Song had never seen Joanna in such a state. She helped her to her feet, only to have Joanna fall again, and this time taking Morning Song with her. Morning Song sighed wearily and stood up, pulling Joanna to her feet.

“We must go on, Joanna. We need to find some kind of shelter before night falls.”

“How much farther, Morning Song?” Joanna asked, dropping to her knees, too weary to care.

“I think when the sun circles seven times we will be nearing the winter village.”

Joanna heard the distant cry of the wolves echoing down the mountain, and she shivered. Seven more days of hell! she thought. Seven more days, and then they could rest and feel warm again.

As the baby moved within her body, she knew that they would make it. According to her calculations, the baby wasn’t due for at least another two months. Windhawk’s child must not be born until they reached the safety of the village.

That night, Joanna and Morning Song huddled behind the wide trunk of a cottonwood, its broad base helping to protect them from the wind. It had stopped snowing but was bitterly cold.

The next morning, Joanna and Morning Song ate the last of their berries, which did very little to alleviate their hunger. They were still weak, but they traveled slowly onward. That afternoon they came to the bank of the Milk River, and they both felt renewed hope at the familiar sight.

Joanna knelt down beside the river and began breaking the ice. She could see several fish swimming along the shallows. If only she could spear one of them, she thought, picking up the sharpened stick and plunging it into the river, splashing the icy water into her face.

Morning Song removed the pack and knelt down beside Joanna, looking puzzled. She watched Joanna plunge the stick into the water several more times, then heard her cry out in angry frustration.

“Joanna, are you trying to spear the fish?” she asked with interest.

“Yes, but it is no use! I will never be able to catch them. I had hoped they would not be able to swim so swiftly because of the ice.”

“The Blackfoot do not eat fish, Joanna. I have never tasted the meat of the fish.”

“In the white world, it is a very common food. I can assure you, it is quite delicious,” Joanna said, plunging the spear
into the water in desperation. She was near tears, and so hungry and miserable!

Morning Song took the spear from Joanna and both girls lay on their stomachs, gazing down into the water as Morning Song raised the spear over her head. She was poised—ready to strike when a big trout swam by. Joanna was amazed at how quickly Windhawk’s young sister plunged the spear into the water. They both laughed when Morning Song withdrew the spear and flopped a trout onto the riverbank. Many times more this deed was repeated, until there were several fish flopping around on the icy riverbank.

Suddenly Joanna heard a rustling in the bushes, and she turned her head and stared in fright as a huge, brown bear emerged from the woods!

She grabbed Morning Song by the arm and dragged her to her feet. Both girls backed away from the river, keeping a wary eye on the advancing bear.

The hideous roar from the bear seemed to echo across the valley when the animal charged forward toward Joanna and Morning Song.

As they had done when they escaped the hungry wolves, they both sought the safety of a high tree branch. Both girls knew the tree wouldn’t really protect them from the bear. If he took it in his mind to pursue them, he would have no trouble climbing the tree.

They watched as the animal approached their haven. He stood up on his hind legs and swatted at the branch they were clinging to. Tense moments passed as Joanna looked into the red, bloodshot eyes of the animal. Morning Song was whimpering, and Joanna put an arm about her.

“He…th…the bear can climb the tree, Joanna,” Morning Song whispered.

“I know,” Joanna answered, pushing Morning Song behind her. She closed her eyes, not wanting to watch the bear in case it decided to climb the tree.

“Joanna, look! I believe the bear is leaving—he’s going away!”

Joanna opened her eyes and watched in overwhelming relief as the huge animal ambled toward the river. She was relieved when the bear sat down on the bank of the Milk River and devoured the fish Morning Song had caught earlier.

Hours passed, and the animal didn’t seem inclined to leave. Once it returned to the tree Joanna and Morning Song were crouched in and rubbed its back against the trunk, as if satisfying an itch.

It was almost as if the bear was toying with them, playing on their fear. As night descended and the clouds covered the moon, it became pitch dark. Joanna and Morning Song huddled together, trying to keep warm and wishing it weren’t so dark so they could keep an eye out for the bear.

“I wish we had thought to bring the buffalo robe,” Joanna said through chattering teeth.

“There was no time,” Morning Song answered.

Neither girl slept that night, not knowing where the bear was or if it might decide to climb up the tree where they had sought refuge.

Finally, as the first streaks of morning lit the eastern sky, Joanna looked about for the bear. She saw no sign of it and wondered if it would be safe to leave the tree. Finally she decided that if the bear had wanted to harm them, it would already have done so.

Touching Morning Song’s arm, Joanna indicated that they should leave the tree. They swung from the branch and stood on the ground, looking about cautiously for the bear. Seeing that it was nowhere in sight, Morning Song ran to pick up the buffalo robe while Joanna retrieved her spear. They ran through the snow as if their feet had wings, and when they could run no farther they leaned up against a pine tree to catch their breaths. Joanna caught Morning Song’s eye, and they both started laughing.

“What a funny sight we must have made huddling in a tree all night,” Morning Song observed, laughing.

Joanna couldn’t seem to stop laughing. It was the kind of laughter that was half-funny and half-hysterical. The irony
of their situation seemed to relieve the tension. “I hope that damned bear gets a stomach ache from eating our fish,” she said in English.

Morning Song nodded her head, laughing too hard to reply.

When they could control their humor, they decided it would be best to cross the river. It wasn’t very wide at this point, and perhaps the river would separate them from the bear should it return.

Joanna shivered as she entered the icy river. She used her pole to test the depth of the water in front of her so she wouldn’t fall into a deep hole. The water was like the prickle of a thousand tiny needles piercing her skin, and she knew they must hurry across or they could suffer from frostbite.

When they reached the other side of the river, Joanna breathed a sigh of relief. Her teeth were chattering, and she felt as if her legs wouldn’t support her. “Bear or no bear we will have to build a fire to dry our clothing, Morning Song. It will make very little difference if we freeze to death or are killed by the bear. Let us walk a little way upstream, though,” she hastily added.

Soon Joanna had a warm fire going, and she and Morning Song removed their moccasins and hung them on a branch to dry. They would lose a whole day, but neither of them were in any condition to travel farther that day.

That afternoon the sun came out, but it did little to warm the two girls, since a cold wind was blowing down the slopes of the mountain.

Joanna watched as Morning Song slipped into her moccasins and picked up the spear, heading toward the river. Lying back on the buffalo robe, she felt too weary to go with her. Closing her eyes, she soon fell asleep.

Morning Song dropped the fish she had caught onto the ground. Standing over Joanna’s sleeping form, she looked at the swell of her stomach. Surely, it wouldn’t be too long until Joanna’s baby would be born. Pulling the buffalo robe up to Joanna’s chin to keep her warm, she set about cleaning the fish. When that tiresome chore was finished, she placed
them over the fire to cook. The thought of eating the ugly creatures was very repugnant to her, but she knew they had to have meat if they were to survive; besides, Joanna had eaten the fish before, and she had survived.

Sometime later, Joanna awoke to the smell of the cooking fish. Her mouth watered as she sat up and watched Morning Song remove the fish from the wooden skewer.

Not waiting until it cooled, she tore a piece off and held it to her lips, blowing on it. “You have done well, Morning Song. Tonight, we dine,” she said laughingly. “You must take care not to swallow a bone—they are very sharp, and one can easily choke on them,” Joanna cautioned.

She watched as Morning Song raised the meat to her lips and then paused. “Eat it…it will not hurt you. As I told you, I have often eaten fish.”

Morning Song took a bite and chewed it slowly. Joanna smiled when her face lit up. “This is very good! I believe I like it.”

Joanna closed her eyes, savoring each bite. If she had ever tasted anything more delicious, she couldn’t remember it. For the first time in many weeks, both girls satisfied their hunger. They cooked the remaining fish and packed it in the snow where wild animals couldn’t get to it, knowing they would need it later on.

Joanna picked up the stick she had carried with her ever since she and Morning Song had escaped from the wolves. Each morning, she had made a notch on the stick to indicate the passing days. The stick now had thirty-two notches. She and Morning Song had survived for over a month under the most primitive conditions, without warm clothing and with very little food.

The next morning Joanna awoke, feeling stronger. Sitting up, she noticed Morning Song was cutting strips from the buffalo robe and stuffing them in the bottom of both their moccasins, since the soles were worn through.

Being out of the mountains, they made better time, and they covered many miles as they followed the winding course of the Milk River.

That night they built a fire near the riverbank and pulled the buffalo robe about them for warmth. Joanna and Morning Song had talked it over and decided the best thing to do was to stay near the river in case any wild animals should come upon them in the night—they could run into the river should the need arise.

They took turns sleeping and tending the fire, but before daylight, both girls had fallen asleep.

Joanna awoke, feeling something wet against her cheek. Opening her eyes, she stared in shocked silence as Fosset nudged her face. Sitting up slowly, she was afraid she might be dreaming. Reaching out a trembling hand, she touched his face.

“Fosset! It
is
you!” she cried, jumping to her feet and throwing her arms about her horse.

Morning Song heard Joanna’s voice and awakened. She rubbed her eyes in disbelief when she saw Fosset.

Joanna smiled brightly at her. “Most probably we will never come to know what Fosset is doing here, but he has found us, Morning Song! We no longer have to walk—we can ride the rest of the way home!”

Both girls patted the white horse while he tossed his tangled white mane, glad for the attention.

“Fosset must have been through a great ordeal, too. He has scratches on his forelegs, and he is little more than a bag of bones,” Morning Song observed. “How do you suppose he ever found us, Joanna?”