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Authors: Janet Dailey
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material with threads so tiny and so closely woven that she, with all her skill, could never duplicate. “And look at these needles, made from small slivers of harder-than-stone. And this.” She held up the thimble for her finger and showed them its use.
“Little Spear?”
“He lives,” she assured the boy’s mother. “The headman kept him. I don’t know why. I think he wants you to come get him.” Her glance encompassed everyone gathered around her. “He wants all of you to come.”
An uneasiness spread through them at the invitation. Many Whiskers explained to his mother that Moon Face and Small Hand had been badly injured in the fight with the raiders and had died from their wounds.
“What do they want of us?” Stone Lamp, the headman of their village and father of Little Spear, questioned the invitation.
“Maybe it is a trick to capture all of us and take us to their village across the waters and make slaves of us,” Quick Eyes suggested and turned to face the shoreline. “Let us ask Strong Man what he thinks.”
With relief, Winter Swan saw her husband striding toward them carrying three large halibut as if they weighed no more than a basket of duck feathers. A wooden visor encircled his head and shaded his narrow eyes. His hair was straight and black, and a thin spiky mustache shaded his upper lip. She immediately felt calmed by his presence and proud that he was her husband. His thickly muscled neck merely hinted at the massive brawn hidden beneath the waterproof parka made from the intestinal linings of the sea lion. But Winter Swan knew it was the spiritual power he had gained through his strength that prompted the village elders to seek his counsel.
Strong Man listened attentively while Weaver Woman told him her story and showed him the gifts the raiders had given her, then ended the account with the invitation. Despite that fact that Weaver Woman had been well treated and Little Spear unharmed, and the gifts were truly wondrous, Winter Swan didn’t trust the strange-looking men. But, like the others, she waited for Strong Man’s opinion.
After considering the matter carefully, he announced, “We should talk to them. If they have come to hunt on Attu, there should be peace between us.” Of necessity they were a peace-loving people. Obtaining sustenance from the sea required a hunter’s full energies. If the village was to be fed, little time could be spared for warfare.
“What about the killings of Small Hand and Moon Face?”
“If we killed two of the strangers in punishment, would that restore peace?” Strong Man’s question made them realize it would not. Perhaps the killings had appeased their anger and the offenses would not be repeated. Either way, they realized there was nothing to be gained by maintaining hostilities.
CHAPTER IV
All of the more than thirty village inhabitants, including the children, rode in the village’s large open skin-boat to the bay where the strangers waited. Weaver Woman, like everyone else, wore all her finery except for the necklace of amber stones, which she had given Winter Swan to wear. The wife of her son was young and had not so many ornaments as Weaver Woman possessed. But neither had she when Kills-Many-Whales had brought her to the village to live in his family’s home and give him children. Her husband had died many years ago, killed by the very creature he was so famed for hunting. The amber necklace had been a present from him the summer he died.
She glanced at the necklace of hard yellow stone lying against the dark fur of Winter Swan’s coat, then at the young woman. Earrings of bone carved in a flower shape adorned her ears, their white contrasting sharply with her jet black hair. The labrets below her mouth corners were thin bone discs that artfully drew attention to the soft, full curve of her lips. Her lightly tanned skin was as smooth as the surface of the water in a stone pot, with a soft undershading of
“Little Spear?”
“He lives,” she assured the boy’s mother. “The headman kept him. I don’t know why. I think he wants you to come get him.” Her glance encompassed everyone gathered around her. “He wants all of you to come.”
An uneasiness spread through them at the invitation. Many Whiskers explained to his mother that Moon Face and Small Hand had been badly injured in the fight with the raiders and had died from their wounds.
“What do they want of us?” Stone Lamp, the headman of their village and father of Little Spear, questioned the invitation.
“Maybe it is a trick to capture all of us and take us to their village across the waters and make slaves of us,” Quick Eyes suggested and turned to face the shoreline. “Let us ask Strong Man what he thinks.”
With relief, Winter Swan saw her husband striding toward them carrying three large halibut as if they weighed no more than a basket of duck feathers. A wooden visor encircled his head and shaded his narrow eyes. His hair was straight and black, and a thin spiky mustache shaded his upper lip. She immediately felt calmed by his presence and proud that he was her husband. His thickly muscled neck merely hinted at the massive brawn hidden beneath the waterproof parka made from the intestinal linings of the sea lion. But Winter Swan knew it was the spiritual power he had gained through his strength that prompted the village elders to seek his counsel.
Strong Man listened attentively while Weaver Woman told him her story and showed him the gifts the raiders had given her, then ended the account with the invitation. Despite that fact that Weaver Woman had been well treated and Little Spear unharmed, and the gifts were truly wondrous, Winter Swan didn’t trust the strange-looking men. But, like the others, she waited for Strong Man’s opinion.
After considering the matter carefully, he announced, “We should talk to them. If they have come to hunt on Attu, there should be peace between us.” Of necessity they were a peace-loving people. Obtaining sustenance from the sea required a hunter’s full energies. If the village was to be fed, little time could be spared for warfare.
“What about the killings of Small Hand and Moon Face?”
“If we killed two of the strangers in punishment, would that restore peace?” Strong Man’s question made them realize it would not. Perhaps the killings had appeased their anger and the offenses would not be repeated. Either way, they realized there was nothing to be gained by maintaining hostilities.
CHAPTER IV
All of the more than thirty village inhabitants, including the children, rode in the village’s large open skin-boat to the bay where the strangers waited. Weaver Woman, like everyone else, wore all her finery except for the necklace of amber stones, which she had given Winter Swan to wear. The wife of her son was young and had not so many ornaments as Weaver Woman possessed. But neither had she when Kills-Many-Whales had brought her to the village to live in his family’s home and give him children. Her husband had died many years ago, killed by the very creature he was so famed for hunting. The amber necklace had been a present from him the summer he died.
She glanced at the necklace of hard yellow stone lying against the dark fur of Winter Swan’s coat, then at the young woman. Earrings of bone carved in a flower shape adorned her ears, their white contrasting sharply with her jet black hair. The labrets below her mouth corners were thin bone discs that artfully drew attention to the soft, full curve of her lips. Her lightly tanned skin was as smooth as the surface of the water in a stone pot, with a soft undershading of
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