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she'd find her way ashore.But where was south?He took a few steps, but kept
stumbling. The ice was so uneven, all these little ridges....Ridges. The wind
blowing the snow into ridges. Blowing mainly from the north!"Thank you!" he
shouted. He thanked Inuktiluk, too, for advising him to make an offering. The wind
must have liked those boar tusks, or it wouldn't be helping him now.Groping with
his mittens, he felt the shape of the ridges. Then he stood up, and squared his
shoulders. "Not dead yet," he told the demons. "Not dead yet!" he shouted.He
started south.262***It was agonizingly slow going. At times he heard a shuddering
crunch, and the sea ice bucked beneath him. He probed the way ahead with the
snow-knife. But if he did hit a patch of thin ice, it would probably be too late.What
had Inuktiluk said? Gray ice is new ice, very dangerous.... Keep to the white ice.
Not much use when he couldn't see--when his next step might take him onto thin
ice, or down a tide crack.He struggled on. The cold sapped his strength, and he
began to feel weak with hunger. How he was going to find food when he had
neither harpoon, bow, nor sight was beyond him.After a while he heard the sound
of approaching wings. The sky was a pinkish blur; he couldn't even make out a
darker blur flying toward him.Owls fly silently, so it couldn't be the eagle owl; and
these wingbeats had a strong, steady rustle that he recognized.Wsh, wsh, wsh. The
raven flew lower to inspect him. Then, with a short, deep caw, it flew away.His
belly tightened. That caw had sounded muffled, as if the raven had food in its beak.
Maybe it had found a carcass, and was flying off to hide its cache. Maybe it would
be back for more.Not long afterward he heard it return. He strained to263listen. He
ran toward it.Just when he was giving up hope, he heard the bark of a white fox,
and the sonorous caws of ravens at a kill-site. Meat! From the clamor, there were
lots of them, so it must be a big carcass. Maybe a seal.His foot struck something
solid, and he fell. The ravens erupted into the sky in a wild clatter of wings, and the
white fox uttered short barks that sounded suspiciously like laughter.Torak groped
for what had tripped him. It wasn't a wind ridge, but a smooth hummock of ice,
twice the size of his head. Puzzled, he found another, a little farther off. Then more
of them, in a curving double line.His heart began to thud. These weren't hummocks.
They were tracks. The tracks of an ice bear. Inuktiluk had told him how the bear's
weight packed the snow hard, then the wind blew away the surrounding snow,
leaving perfect, raised paw prints.In his mind Torak saw the seal basking in the sun
beside its breathing hole, oblivious of the ice bear stalking it downwind.
Noiselessly the bear creeps closer, hiding behind every ridge and hummock. It is
patient. It knows how to wait. At last the seal slips into a doze. The bear gathers
itself for the silent charge.... The seal is dead before it knows what struck.At the
carcass, the ravens had noisily resumed their264feast, having apparently decided
that Torak posed no threat.They wouldn't be feeding if the bear were still close--
would they? He was desperate to believe that. And by the sound of it, there were a
great many ravens, as well as that fox; which must mean that the bear had left
plenty of meat. Inuktiluk had said that when the hunting was good, ice bears take
only the blubber, and leave the rest.But what if it was hungry again? What if it was
stalking him right now?Suddenly the ravens burst skyward. Something had
frightened them.Torak's breath hammered in his chest. Reaching inside his parka,
he drew his father's knife.He pictured the great bear hunting him: placing its huge,
furred paws soundlessly on the ice.He got to his feet. The silence was deafening.
He braced himself, and waited for the White Death to come for him.Wolf knocked
him backward into the snow, and covered his face in snuffle-licks.Wolf loved
surprising his pack-brother. No matter how often he did it, Tall Tailless never knew [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]