Page 9 of His to Worship

I anticipated this. Why would they believe that I, a lowly, disregarded hunter, would see a gift from the Great Mother?

“No, my atan,” I quickly contest. “I have seen many tracks in my thirty-three dark seasons. You know that I am amongst the best of the hunters. I would not confuse such a track.”

“Even the greatest of hunters make mistakes.” He stares at me, his jaw set resolutely.

I have made a mistake. I should not have expected to get approval. Atan Junq has never liked me. Like most of the clan, he simply tolerates me, as is required per the clan laws. I should have known that when faced with the chance to assist me, he would not. Typically, any suggestion I bring up is met with healthy skepticism. New tracks for a new animal none have seen? Cause for extreme skepticism.

It is better to ask forgiveness than permission, and I should have investigated on my own.

Repressing a sigh as I stare at the stubborn set of his mouth, my eyes skim over the room. Viquum looks bored while Tiqii looks triumphant. Kuvit looks…curious.

“I do not see the harm.” I am shocked that Kuvit speaks up. “Of course, the atan knows best, but if there are new tracks, or even if there is an aktar nearby, it may be good to hunt it before the dark season.”

Kuvit’s input gives Junq pause, and I work to calm my expressions as I take joy in the look of disdain on his mother’s face. Junq considers for a long while, so long I begin plotting an escape out of the communal home to follow the tracks without permission. Just as I resign myself to this plan, just as I am thinking of which hunter I might convince to go with me, Junq speaks up again.

“Very well, but I will allow no hunter to accompany you on this foolish journey.” He gives me a smug grin. “You may follow the tracks. Alone. Pack well. It may be many blinks until you return.”

“My thanks,” I grit out before I give one final bow.

As I turn to leave, I catch Kuvit's eye. For a brief moment, I see something flicker in his golden gaze before it vanishes, replaced by his usual cool mask. It is strange at times to look at him, so similar to me yet my polar opposite; the half-brother that has everything I never had.

I frown deeply as I exit through the covered hole in the hut, blocked by animal skin. My mind whirls and I bat at the anger building within me. Of course, Junq would task me with completing this alone. Anything he can do to make me fail he will.

What a great uncle I have. Knowing how he—and truly the whole clan—feels about me, it is no surprise. It has been many sleeps of the Great Mother since the last Atan passed on and yet the clan still holds resentment towards his bastard son, born of infidelity that rocked our community. Though it is not nearly as bad as it was when I was growing up and Atan Kuuv was still alive, there is still a general uneasiness about being around me. As if I was the one to choose to betray my mate.

I bring my thoughts back to the present as I head through the snow back to my hut. I do not know what this journey could bring, so I stuff everything I need into a large pack, throwing it over my shoulder. With my tools’ sling tied across my chest, my scythe strapped to my hip, and my bone spear in hand, I am ready as quickly as possible.

Finally exiting my hut, I tie the animal skin flap to the maftii bone base. As I walk, I note that the second eye has risen and much of the clan has begun moving about. Most do not speak to me, nor do I to them as I begin my walk through the clans commune of huts.

Before I can leave for my solo hunt, I make my way to the tanning hut to speak with my mother. The familiar scent of curing hides and the rhythmic sounds of scraping greet me as I enter. My mother, Vierqa, is hard at work, her hands skillfully beating a large hide. She looks up as I approach and her face lights up with a smile.

“How did it go?” she asks immediately, shaking off the goop on her hands.

“Junq has given me permission,” I grimace as I continue, “to go without another hunter.”

Her smile falters, and disappointment clouds her features. “With the dark season approaching, it’s dangerous to send you off like this.”

“What did you believe would happen?” I scoff and shake my head. “Junq is as stubborn as an old uunaht.”

She gives me a stern look, her eyes flashing with the fire of her convictions. “You must not speak poorly of your atan, Kuvier. Loyalty to our clan is paramount.”

My mother has always held strong ties to the clan, even as they have treated us with disdain and derision. I know it stems from how she was treated before my father ruined her. I’m sure if I had memories of good times with this clan, I might too still hold some semblance of loyalty.

“As you wish.” I give her an acquiescing nod. “I must set out if I want to be back before the dark season’s storms begin.”

She smiles still, though sadness twinges it. “You have a good heart, Kuvier. Go with the Great Mother's blessing, and be safe. I will pray for your swift return.”

I clasp her by the shoulders and squeeze before letting go and heading for the exit. “I will return as soon as I can.”

I am so lost in my thoughts as I walk through the commune, heading towards the Blood Mountains, that it is almost too late to hop out of the way when I hear the sound of laughter and squealing. A second later, a kit comes running towards me. I sidestep him, recognizing Etuuk. Kejul follows after and nearly barrels me down, as I am too distracted by Etuuk to have noticed Kejul at first.

“Sorry, Kuvier!” He calls over his shoulder but does not stop. I do not respond and hold my smile back. I have a soft spot for the kits of the clan, especially the ones like those two who have lost both parents during the cave-in. While I do not spend much time with any of the kits—I am always out on the hunt—I do bring back treats and carve toys for them. As much as I love seeing them in joy, it is always a stark reminder of what I will never have.

We have lost so many of our tribes, and there are no Lieq people left besides us. I am aware, as many hunters are, that some of us will die without mates or kits. With the afflictions that have wrought our clan and stolen many lives, and the absence of true bonded pairs in the last several generations, there are few females left to choose as a mate. And without bonded pairs, there are fewer successful births, and fewer still females born.

Furthermore, without the Great Mother telling us who our best fit is, it is up to the females to choose their mates. None would choose the clan outcast; why would they? I cannot blame them. I would provide a great many things, but any associated with me would also be shunned. What kind of life is that?

Besides the females that are already mated, the ones that passed in the cave-in, and my mother, there are three unmated females left alive in our tribe—they are all but kits now. I cannot imagine any of them as full-grown females, let alone as potential mates. Pah, the thought is disgusting. No, I will live my life alone, and I will die alone, joining the ancestors with my soul untethered.

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