Read Online Skraelings: Clashes in the Old Arctic by Rachel Qitsualik-Tinsley - Free Book Online Page A

that you should never consume that stuff. It was one of the first lessons I taught you.”
    â€œIt’s not for any of us,” said Kannujaq with a sigh. He hated this. This moment meant committing himself to a terrible act.
    â€œWould it still work,” he asked, “if we soaked some meat in it?”
    â€œYes,” said Siku, sounding surprisingly mature in the firmness of his answer, “if we use enough. But I have three bags here.”
    Siaq, suddenly understanding, ran off to retrieve her own supplies.

    Unhappy Kannujaq! Once again, when he’d only wanted peace, a life of exploring the wide Land, the violence of others pulled him into violent response. But, as his own elders might have reminded him, the Land is far more than rocks and lichen and hills and coasts. The Land is also those living beings, humanity being no exception, that dwell on its surface. Peace is possible only if all possess the will for it. And Kannujaq, without even knowing that he was doing so, had shifted his role from hunter to warrior.
    It took a little over a day to ready everything, and the Tuniit needed a great deal of convincing. Kannujaq was aggressive about securing their promise that they would help out, when the moment arrived. Everyone’s movements were planned. Rehearsed. The homes nearest the beach were left abandoned. Storage areas left full of meat. As many Tuniit as possible would share homes nearest the hills, allowing them a head start if the raiderswere sighted. They were not to move far, but only to take cover near the base of the hills.
    Kannujaq alone would creep back to the camp to see if the Glaring One’s men took the bait. If so, he would signal.
    There was no alternate plan.

11
Eyes of the Glaring One
    The days were long now, so it was late evening when the Glaring One returned in creeping dusk.
    One by one, the great boat’s torches sprang to life as it reached the shore, to the roars of:
    â€œSkraeling!”
    â€œSkraeling!”
    â€œSkraeling!”
    The Tuniit camp, and especially Kannujaq himself, had already spent hours in nervous anticipation. All eyes were on the sea. Everything was set, and cries of alarm spread faster than flame in heather among the Tuniit, who were soon running inland with all the fleetness their stocky bodies could muster. Kannujaq ran alongside of them, desperate and hoping that the Tuniit would be able to summon their courage when the time came.
    Kannujaq’s great worry was that the raiders would not behave as expected. Siku and Siaq had prepared a kind of rancid-smelling tea out of their dried shaman stuff. Each had assured Kannujaq that the soup wouldbe undetectable on meat that had soaked in it. They were wrong. Kannujaq himself had sampled the tiniest bit of the food. It had no peculiar scent, but its flavour was off. Bitter. Even from the nibble he had tried, his stomach had begun to lurch soon after swallowing. He had puked it all up before learning what else it had in store for him.
    Maybe,
he hoped,
the raiders will arrive hungry. Either that, or they’re just stupid.
    The Tuniit reached the hills and many sheltering boulders, keeping low. Kannujaq could already spot commotion down by the beach. This turned out to be raiders kicking in the short walls and ripping the tops off of Tuniit homes. Stamping their way through cooking fires. Kannujaq gave them time, letting the rosy light of evening approach. After the amount of time it might have taken for someone to boil up soup, he began to creep back down, doing his best stalk, hoping that his now sooty clothes would help him blend in with the landscape.
    It was like torture, creeping down to the beach, wondering with every beat of his heart if raider eyes were already tracking him. At last, he arrived at the edge of the community. Fortunately, there were many large rocks about the place—enough, at least, for him to move from cover to cover.
    The Glaring One was easy to spot.