Page 80 of Circle of Days
Ello was furious. “You wicked woman.”
Joia went on remorselessly: “There will be nowhere for you to hide, Ello.”
Ello began to cry. “I’m an ugly old woman,” she sobbed. “No one will love me, now that Soo’s gone.”
Joia did not know what to say to this collapse. She could fight with Ello, but could not sympathize with her. She might tell Ello that people would love her if she was nice to them, but that would do no good. Ello had been set in her ways for decades, and she was not going to change just because Joia told her to.
She said: “I hope I’ve made myself clear.”
“Get out,” said Ello. “I wish you were dead.”
Gida gave instructions for the hunt. “We’re going to lie up in the gap between Little Wood and Alder Wood. The deer always cross that gap because it’s the shortest way from one wood to the other. There’s a dip where, if we lie down, we will be invisible to the herdas it approaches. Now, some of you have not taken part in this hunt before, so let me remind you how we do it. No talking! Deer can hear well. And most important of all, no pissing or shitting. A deer can smell a fart a mile away. If you need to go, walk to North Wood. It’s not far, but the vegetation will keep the stink in.”
They laughed at that. Gida had a nice touch, Bez thought. She gave orders in a tone that suggested she was just being helpful.
Gida went on: “When the deer come toward us, wait. If you show yourself too soon, they may turn back, and then we won’t get any venison. We’ve got people on both sides of Little Wood, ready to get behind the deer and scare them. When that happens, you’ll hear the hoofbeats as they run, heading for the sanctuary of North Wood. But we’ll be waiting for them.”
A young man piped up: “When do we kill them?”
“Leave it as late as possible. When you stand up, the deer will try to veer around you. If you show yourself too soon, they will succeed. The ideal is that they pass you so close that you have a perfect chance to bring them down with an axe or a hammer. Are we ready?”
They were ready.
“And let’s go quietly, please.”
They set off, heading north out of West Wood as the sun sank toward the western edge of the Great Plain, and reached the place where they would hide in the time it took to boil a pot of water.
On Gida’s instructions they spread out in a loose line. Soon it was twilight, the moment the deer would break cover—if Joia’s forecast was right and they were now on the move. If not, nothing would happen.
Bez and his tribe were all very hungry—so hungry that they were talking of eating fish, considered disgusting by herders and farmers as well as woodlanders.
Or they would die. Death was not so bad. It happened to everyone sooner or later. Better not to waste your life worrying about it, as farmers and herders did. Enjoy life while it’s good and accept the end when it comes.
So thought Bez, except when he saw hungry children. Among the woodlanders, the responsibility for taking care of a child belonged to every adult in the tribe. Each child was your child, which was sensible as men never knew for sure which children they had sired. It was one of the very few obligations a woodlander had, and to fail at it brought shame.
Bez was lying flat, staring at the distant wood in the shadowy dusk. Was Joia right? Were the deer on the move today? Soon he would know.
He thought he saw movement, and a few moments later several deer emerged. Bez knew immediately that they were the small roe deer, not the giant red deer. They were not much taller than a big dog, and their antlers were small, usually straight with one or two tines. Bez’s identification was confirmed when one turned around and showed a white rump patch. The red deer did not have that.
Roe deer did not form large herds, preferring to live in small family groups, but Bez could see eight or nine, and he guessed that three families had come together, perhaps by accident, for the migration. This was good enough, and better than nothing by far.
It might have been a problem if another tribe had arrived toshare the location. Nine roe deer would provide a feast for one tribe, but a meager dinner for two.
The deer seemed to hesitate, then decide they were on the right track, and they set off across the plain toward where the tribe was hiding.
Someone said: “Here they come!”
Bez hissed: “Quiet!”
Once the beasts got started they walked briskly, not stopping to graze the sparse brown grass. More so than the red deer, they were uncomfortable in open country and preferred dense cover.
As they came nearer, Bez felt the tension in the group, and hoped the deer could not sense it.
Then he heard the dogs, distant but unmistakable. The deer heard them, too, and began to trot, mildly worried but not panicking. They knew they could run faster than dogs.
The beasts were lean, but there was meat on them.
Bez put an arrow to his bow. Just a few moments to go.
