The man, Goldeye, hunched down over a patch of loamy earth at the base of a sprawling oak. He scooped up clods of earth in his weathered hands and placed them in a pile to the side of the small hole he was digging.
The girl, Hawk That Runs, watched him from the back of the horse, a frown on her face.
‘You think that will work?’
The big man plucked one of the clinking bone charms from the cord around his neck. He placed the yellowed, carved likeness of a raven in the dark confines of the hole.
‘No harm in trying,’ he said, as he pulled the mound of disturbed earth back into the place from which it came. He always did like the feeling of wet, cool soil in the palm of his hand. Something nourishing about it, like it might smooth the roughness across his skin. In another life, he might have made for a good farmer.
‘There’s harm in the time we’ve lost,’ Hawk That Runs said, scanning the surrounding forest with a hard snarl on her face.
‘Hm.’ Goldeye was staring at the mound he’d made, busy thinking about being a farmer. He supposed burying a charm wasn’t much different from planting a seed. In the end, you’d hope to reap something from it. In this case, much like the farmer, Goldeye was hoping for rain.
‘Are you waiting for it to sing or something?’ snapped Hawk That Runs, ‘Come on.’
Goldeye sighed. Fear clipped the youngun’s anger, he could hear it. Heard it many times before, from many other voices. Heard it from his own, more often than anything. ‘No patience in you,’ he said as he took the bridle of the horse and led it back onto the path.
‘I’ve got patience for when I’m hunting,’ Hawk That Runs said from the back of the horse, ‘not when I’m being hunted.’
The girl sees a scalper behind every tree, thought Goldeye. Mind, she has a right to, after what they did to that brother of hers.
‘Well you’ll need to get some,’ said Goldeye, keeping his eyes level on the path ahead. ‘There’s two ways to get out of a hunt; running and hiding. As for running, well we’ve no quickness. The scalpers have got many horses.’ He nodded at Sand, the horse upon which Hawk That Runs sat. ‘We’ve just the one.’
‘So we just wait for them to come slit our heads open?’ Hawk That Runs sat back with arms folded and licked her gums. ‘Some good patience will do us.’
‘Well hiding needs patience,’ said Goldeye, ‘and since we’ve no quickness for running, I’d say that’s our only choice, wouldn’t you?’
They picked their way down a steep path, badly worn by weather, Sand’s hooves making uneven clacks on the scattered cobblestones. Hawk That Runs didn’t so much as flinch or wobble, as the horse rocked the saddle back and forth down the shaky incline. She just sat with her arms folded, looking angry. Born in a saddle, that one, thought Goldeye. Lived in it all her life. Which meant that the tough going did nothing to slow her questioning. Just his luck.
‘So what’s that got to do with magic charms?’ she said, making no attempt to hide the cynicism in her voice.
‘The charm isn’t magic,’ said Goldeye, calm as you like, ‘it’s an offering.’
‘An offering of what? Rabbit bones?’
‘Elk, actually. And no, it’s the time I’m offering. The time I put into carving the thing. The skill and the-’ he smiled, ‘the patience. The thinking is that the gods appreciate us giving up something that took us a while to make and, in return, do us little favours.’
‘Such as?’
Goldeye looked up through the autumn canopy that dappled the sunlight into red and gold. A hot and cloudless blue flickered into vision. ‘Making it rain.’
‘Making it rain?’
‘There’s a crow about,’ Goldeye said as the path leveled out.
‘A what?’
‘Nevermind.’
‘So get soaking wet and wait, that’s your plan?’ Hawk That Runs said.
Goldeye smiled as he looked back at her. She sat looking at the horizon, refusing to meet his eyes.
‘The rain will wash away Sand’s tracks, making us harder to find,’ he said, gesturing back at the way they came. ‘Making hiding a lot easier. And our chances of getting scalped, much smaller.’
When she snapped her gaze to meet his, he knew he’d tread on some sore ground. He turned away, pretending to focus on the ground ahead of him as if it were strewed with pitfalls and poisonous thorns. Best not to say too much on the subject of scalping.
Funny, how one so small and young could make one so big and old afeared to speak. Or not afeared, perhaps, but something else. Sorry, he guessed. Sorry that he couldn’t do enough. Sorry that she had to come up in a world like this one. When he was young, he figured the adults made all the rules and chose all the changes. What had he changed about the world, in his time? Nothing for the better, he figured. Goldeye wondered if he had ever silenced an adult into this kind of thinking, when he was a welp. Not likely. His sharp mouth caught him more hard backhands than deep thoughts.
They walked in silence for a while. The large, red trees became less dense, the leaf-covered ground more even. The sound of Sand’s hooves on the firm mud filled the air, amidst the gentle chorus of birdsong.
‘Do you believe in it?’ mumbled Hawk That Runs.
‘Hm?’ He was surprised to hear her speak.
‘In gods? Magic. Whatever.’
Goldeye worked his jaw. ‘Hmm. I’m not sure. Don’t think it matters if I do or not, as long as they do their part. The gods, that is.’
‘And do they?’ asked Hawk That Runs, looking at the sunlight flowing across Sand’s mane.
‘Sometimes,’ said Goldeye. ‘They tend to be picky in their timing. They have a sense of humor, you know?’
‘A grim one.’
‘Aye.’
They didn’t say anything else until the forest came to a sudden halt at a lush row of underbrush. Goldeye hacked his way through with a hatchet in one hand, leading Sand and Hawk That Runs in the other. When they broke free of the branches, they found themselves at the edge of a great plain.
Long, green grasses surged like a sea in a storm, the winds sweeping waves of shadow across them. Above, advancing like a warring fleet through the immaculate blue, iron clouds gathered together across the horizon. That's where they were headed, without a spot of shelter.
A drop of rain landed on Hawk That Runs cheek. She wiped it with a finger, then sat scowling at the dampness there, as if it had offended her.
Goldeye smiled. ‘Told you they had a sense of humour.’
Paddy Dobson
5th October 2020