Read Online Warbird by Jennifer Maruno - Free Book Online

sound of running water.
    Tsiko pointed to the rise of snow-covered branches spanning the river like a bridge. Stretched out beyond it, a great sheet of silver glittered in the sun.
    The Huron boy took off his snowshoes and lowered his sack. His dog scampered over the crust of ice. “The dog can smell if the beaver are home,” Tsiko said.
    â€œIt’s not completely frozen,” Etienne said, hesitating to step onto the icy surface. He pointed to a small mushy puddle in the middle of the pond.
    â€œDon’t worry,” Tsiko said. “The beavers just make holes for air.”
    The dog scrambled to the top of one of the mounds in the frozen pond. His short bushy tail stood up like a brush as he gave out a fox-like yelp.
    â€œBeaver’s home,” Tsiko called out as he clambered to the top of the mound. Using the chiselled pole, he made three small holes in the ice. When dark water rose, he pushed the wooden poles down into their home, blocking their underwater entranceway. “This will keep them in,” he explained. “Now dig.”
    Using the heavy pole, Etienne tried to pierce the roof of the beaver house. He marvelled at how tightly the branches and mud held together. With the other chisel, Tsiko worked at making the hole larger. Etienne couldhear the frightened mewls of the animals inside as the hole grew larger. In the first rays of light, seven pairs of bright black eyes stared up at them.
    Tsiko picked up a large male by his tail and dropped it on the ice. One swift blow of his club, and it lay still. Etienne examined its tiny hand-like fore paws and large webbed hind feet.
    Tsiko dragged it across the snow to get the water from its fur. “Your turn,” he said.
    Etienne reached in and grabbed one of the animals by the tail. “Got you,” he cried out and gave it a swift blow. But the feeling of triumph soon faded. The way the animal had looked at him before it died filled him with guilt. After all, it hadn’t done him any harm.
    Tsiko clubbed two more. Four black-skinned oval animals now lay dead beside their home. “We won’t kill them all,” he said, looking over the rest. “It’s important to leave some alive.”
    The dog yelped at a ripple of movement in the puddle of mush. A black head appeared then vanished in a circle of bubbles. “A beaver has come to breathe,” Tsiko announced, striding towards it with his club.
    A loud crack filled the air, but this time it wasn’t a tree. Wide-eyed, Tsiko watched the fissures spread across the ice with lightning speed.
    â€œStep back,” Etienne bellowed.
    But before Tsiko could make a move, he plunged downward. His elbows came to rest across the club, preventing him from sinking completely.
    Etienne looked on in horror.
    â€œHelp!” Tsiko called out.
    Etienne unwound Pierre’s sash from his waist. He lowered himself to the ice and inched his way forward. He tossed one end of the sash towards the puddle of slush.
    Tsiko missed it the first time, and the second time. On the third throw, he raised himself on the club, making the ice crack again, but he caught the fringed edge of the sash.
    Etienne dragged him from the hole and across the ice.
    Drenched and pierced with cold, Tsiko moaned and closed his eyes. Etienne knew he had to build a fire. Unless he warmed his friend’s feet, they would freeze. He scrambled to gather dry kindling. He pawed through the snow to find a patch of tufted grass then made a pile of twigs. He tried to hurry, but his cold fingers were stiff and clumsy. Throwing off his mittens, Etienne drew his knife from its pouch. He struck the blade against a flint again and again until it made a spark. The grass smouldered, and he blew on it.
    Numbness crept up his fingertips as he added more twigs. Commanding his frozen fingers to obey, he blew again, but the small smoking pile would not dance into flame. Etienne stopped for a moment to stamp his feet