The Uprights, page 38
She must have closed her eyes and slipped into her blackness, because she doesn’t hear or see Krau approach. There is no warning. No time for preparation. No chance to think. Just a booming voice in her ears. Claw-like fingers on her arms. And sudden, fearful, wakefulness.
“No. Not like this.”
Why does he care how she is tied to the tree?
“You must stand.”
He tries to drag her to her feet, but the combination of her dead weight, a snagging cord and maybe her distraught cries of surprise and pain seem to defeat him. With a curse, he lets go of her upper limbs, walks around to the back of the tree and starts to work on her cord. What’s he going to do now? Untie her. Throw her to the ground and punish her. Mate with her. Whatever it is, this is her chance. Except it isn’t light. She cannot see where to go. And it isn’t what she planned.
She must have been asleep, but now she is awake. And if she is awake, she can think. Be clever. Change her plan. Still out-wit the one who believes he can have anything he wants. But the aching, tearing feeling in her arms stops her thinking. He is wrenching them from her shoulders. The tension in the cord holding her to the tree is so much worse. Worse, but then, for no reason, better. The tension in the cord. She will think about that. She can think of nothing else. He isn’t saying what he is going to do and of course she cannot see the other side of the trunk. All she has to go on – the only way she can work out what Krau intends for her – is the tightness or the slackness of the cord. More movement. A sharp pull and a squeal of pain, and then immediately afterwards, it’s loose again. He must be unravelling the knot. So that’s what he is going to do. Untie her and mate with her. Now. Before dawn. That’s what he might want, but it isn’t what she wants. Nor is it, she promises herself, what’s going to happen. She knows what she has to do. As soon as the cord goes slack again, she will pull on it with all her strength. But she mustn’t try and release herself too soon, because the cord will never yield. Nor wait too long, for that will give Krau a chance to hold her wrist, her arm, her body – for from such a grip, there can be no escape.
She is concentrating so much she dare not breathe. Certainly, she will not say anything. And she is now beyond – far beyond – tears. All she will do is feel the cord with the sensitivity – and patience – of a spider in its web. Not yet. It’s still tight. She can feel it in her joints. Wait. Krau is having difficulty undoing the knot. The hunters were thorough. Or maybe he is struggling in the half-light. But he perseveres. The cord starts to quiver. Move. Relax. Still wait. It tightens against her skin and then goes loose. Wait. Breathe in deeply. Think of Jehkmin. Think of Dhi. Wait. It goes tighter. And then, once again, looser. It must be undone. The knot must be free. Now. Now. Pull. Pull. Don’t shout for freedom. Don’t cry in defiance. Pull mightily, but pull in silence. Only later, when she is free, will she make her noises.
But it isn’t like that. She does pull harder than she has ever pulled before, but in spite of all the waiting and all her efforts to get it right, she pulls too quickly. Her hands are not yet untied. She doesn’t pull against unsuspecting and unprepared upright muscle – even belonging to a large male like Krau. She pulls against a cord that is too strong for her. Too strong for a big one. Not just too strong, but always ready and never tiring. She jerks her wrists as powerfully as she can, but she stays tied to the tree.
She can tell Krau is taken aback by her puny efforts, but his initial gasp of surprise and irritation – something which is strangely satisfying to her – is soon followed by a laugh and a savage reprisal – a terrible tightening of her cords.
“Now you will stand. Now you will do as I want.”
There is just enough light for her to see the gleam of triumph in his eyes as he comes around to the front. Leans forward. Puts his face next to hers.
*****
“How do you know what track to take, Dhi?”
“I’m a hunter. I know the ways of the beasts.”
“But we are trailing an upright. Maybe two uprights.”
“Yes. That’s how I know.”
“What are you looking for?”
“I can’t follow every step Wuhn made. Sometimes there’s nothing to see.”
“What do you mean?”
“I only have to look when one track becomes two. Don’t you notice me stopping? Going down one path and then the other.”
“Yes.”
“What’s there?”
“Didn’t you see that patch of bracken? It was flattened as if Wuhn rested there. It was much too near the path for a beast. When they lie down, they always hide in the undergrowth.”
“No, I didn’t see that.”
“Look here. This branch by my shoulder. What beast would reach up to steady itself past these rocks? Only an upright with hands could do that.”
“I see. But why is she going uphill, Dhi? It is uphill, isn’t it? The way to our lake is in the other direction. Downhill.”
“You’re right. I don’t know about that. Perhaps she wanted to reach the summit of this hill.”
“Why?”
“Maybe she was forced to come this way to escape from the runaway. Then she realised she was lost. Wanted to get high to find out where she was.”
Because it’s now getting dark, they have to be careful they don’t fall and hurt themselves, but their intense concentration doesn’t stop Dhi noticing the trees thinning out, the bark on the trunks changing colour and the terrain getting rockier. He has never been here before, but he is sure Wuhn has. Every now and then he can see how her feet have kicked small stones from their normal position. He wants to tell Mahr about this, not to show how clever he is, but to teach him about tracking. As a worker he doesn’t need to know about such things, but soon, when they get back to the settlement, he will make sure he becomes a hunter. And what he can show him now will help.
“Look down here. Can you see anything?”
“No. Not really.”
“Here. By the side of the path. The pebbles.”
“What’s the matter with them?”
“Most of them have a layer of green on them. The green always faces the sky. But they aren’t all like that. Some have been turned over.”
“Oh, yes.”
“It’s where Wuhn walked.”
“Why not a beast?”
“I know how long Wuhn’s legs are. The length of her stride.”
“Of course.”
“If you want to become a hunter, you must train yourself to look for such things.”
“I will.”
“Good.”
“It’s nearly night-fall now, Dhi. We have to stop soon.”
“I wish we could walk in the night. Then we would find her sooner.”
“No upright walks in the forest when he can’t see. It’s too dangerous.”
“I don’t care about danger. But without light, I wouldn’t know which way she went. You’re right. We stop soon.”
“When?
“I want to get to the top of this hill. Maybe she’s there. Or maybe she left a sign to show where she went next.”
Again there’s silence and an opportunity to think. Dhi easily disregards the possibility she might not be alive – his every instinct tells him otherwise. Not so readily dismissed though, is the thought she has been attacked, and as a result, carries the runaway’s infant in her belly. If that is the case, will she return to the settlement and allow her infant to be strangled when it’s born? Or will she refuse, as Mahr believes, to come back with him?
“This way, Mahr. Can you see? You mustn’t fall now.”
Mahr grunts. He is having no difficulty keeping up. If he is lagging a little, it’s because his mind is on other things, too. For instance: why is Dhi going to so much effort to find Wuhn when he has so many others? And why is Dhi so sure the elders will agree to him, a male without even one female, becoming a hunter?
At last, they reach the summit, an area of bare rock, deep crevasses and an occasional stunted tree. The sun has now set, with the growing darkness of the sky enveloping the forest like a mother’s warming breast. Only in one direction, is there more light, and there the blue-black horizon is tinged with orange and red and purple, a sure sign the sun has just gone to bed.
“We can go no further, Dhi.”
“No. We must stay here. It’s dangerous to walk any more.”
“Good.”
“Have you any water in your bag?”
“Yes. A little. Do you want to share mine?”
“Yes. You can have some of my dried roots, if you like.”
“Dhi.”
“What is it? You should sit down and rest now.”
“I think I can see something. It’s a long way away.”
“It’s too dark.”
“No. There’s something there.”
“Let me see. Where are you looking?”
“Over there.”
“Between the trees. I can see something pink. Red. But it isn’t in the sky.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s like the sky, but it isn’t the sky. It’s too low. It’s in the trees.”
“Point. Show me. My eyes aren’t as good as they used to be. It must have been what happened in the valley.”
“Follow my finger. My finger will show you.”
“Oh, yes. I can see now. It’s only small. But it is different from the rest of the forest.”
“Can you see the colours? They shouldn’t be there, should they?”
“Yes. Yes. It’s all right.”
“What is it?”
“It’s water. Water looks like the sky sometimes.”
“Water. Do you mean a stream?”
“No. Moving water doesn’t look like that. It has to be still.”
“Still like a lake.”
“Is it our lake?”
“I don’t know, Mahr.”
“If it is our lake, we have taken the wrong track. I thought we were walking away from our lake.”
“Mahr.”
“Yes.”
“We aren’t lost.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Wuhn is down there. Wuhn is by that lake.”
17
To the Lake
“Who is it?”
“Don’t worry. It’s me again.”
“What do you want?”
“Nothing. Nothing bad.”
“Oh, it’s you Ooma.”
“Yes.”
“I thought it was Dhi. Holding my hand.”
“No, it’s not Dhi.”
“Oh.”
“Wake up now. Be quiet.”
“What are you doing here? It’s dark. I can barely see you.”
“I had to come.”
“Why? You knew this would happen to me.”
“I thought it might.”
“You’re not surprised Krau wouldn’t let me go back to my own clan? Made me eat that terrible, burnt flesh. Tied me to a tree.”
“No.”
“You made me stand by the fire. Look at the ceremony. If I had stayed in the shelter in the forest, Krau would never have seen me.”
“I know. I didn’t think. I hoped you would be interested. You asked so many questions. Wanted to know how we lived. How we mated. What we eat.”
“I did want to know all that. But not if it meant I would be kept here when I want to go.”
“I understand that now.”
“Why have you come here?”
“To help you.”
“Help me?”
“Yes. I have come to untie you.”
“Untie me?”
“Yes. Speak quietly. We mustn’t wake any of the hunters.”
“I can’t believe it, Ooma.”
“It’s true. Your arms must hurt so much. Your legs. Your back.”
“Why are you doing this for me? I don’t understand.”
“I like you. I hope you like me.”
“I still don’t understand.”
“I want to make up for my mistakes.”
“Do you want to escape with me, Ooma? Come back to my clan.”
“No. No. It’s not that.”
“What then?”
“I know you don’t trust me, but you must believe me. I’m going to untie your cord. I’ve even brought a blade.”
“I never expected this.”
“I know.”
“I was hoping that when Krau comes for me tomorrow, I will …”
“Will what?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t be frightened of me.”
“Sorry. I can’t say”.
“Don’t tell me then. But I’m still going to help you.”
“Thank you. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. Wait till you’re free.”
“Ooma.”
“Yes.”
“I want to trust you.”
“You can. What else can I say or do?”
“Nothing. Just being here is enough.”
“What were you going to say about Krau?”
“I was going to say that when he comes for me, I will be able to run away from him. I am very fast. Can twist and turn faster than a deer. Dhi could hardly catch me and he is younger than Krau.”
“It would be no good. He’s very knowing. He would expect that. Not let go of you for one breath. Not until he has mated with you. Then he won’t care what you do. His infant will be inside your belly. You can’t run away from something you can’t see.”
“I could still escape from your camp.”
“Yes, but he knows your clan would never accept his infant. Would want to strangle it. It happens here. When one of our females is attacked by a big one.”
“Are you going to untie me now? The way Krau tightened the cords, I’m sure I can hardly walk.”
“Maybe that’s why Krau did it.”
“I can understand that.”
“Here. Try and move your hands away from the cord. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Thank you, Ooma. Thank you.”
“I know how much you want to go back to your family. I would feel the same way.”
“You are very kind. Very brave as well. What would happen if Krau finds out it was you who released me?”
“Keep still.”
“Will you be punished?”
“He will kill me.”
“Ooma, you are doing this for me?”
“I want to. You’re right. I could have protected you better.”
“Ouch, that’s hurting.”
“I told you. Don’t make a noise or both of us will be killed.”
“Sorry.”
“He won’t find out. You’ll be gone and there’s nobody else to see how you escaped.”
“Aren’t there guards?”
“No. The fire by the stumps has been given enough wood for the night. It will still be alight at dawn.”
“What about an attack by the big ones?”
“Our hunters are all around. At the edge of the clearing. In the trees. They sleep, but can easily be wakened. The big ones are frightened of them. They never come here.”
“Have you nearly finished with the cord?”
“Yes. Just a few more breaths.”
“Ooma.”
“Yes.”
“What about the big one on the next tree. She might be awake.”
“It doesn’t matter. She cannot use upright words.”
“I forgot that.”
“Keep still.”
“Ooma.”
“Sshh. I told you to keep quiet.”
“I know. But I have thought of something.”
“What’s that?”
