?gedei shivered uncontrollably, not just at the thought of cannibalism, but the calm and effortless way his father suggested the possibility.
“I know you are not skilled hunters, but I sent you out to learn how to hunt,” Genghis said, responding to the statement Jochi would not be allowed to finish. “We need provisions. Every member of the tribe must be able to—”
?gedei silenced his father with an upraised hand, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see a pair of the Great Khan’s guards react as if ?gedei had slapped his father. He ignored them, raising a finger to his lips. He turned his head slightly, enough to see his father’s face.
“Deer,” he mouthed, and pointed. Downstream, on the opposite bank, stood two good-sized does and a huge buck.
Genghis’s eyes followed his son’s finger, and with a nod, he motioned for the guards nearest the river to kneel. The familial discipline was forgotten as the group instinctively focused on their prey. The guards slowly lowered themselves to the ground; their swords were of no use in this hunt, and they were only in the way of the hunters. Jochi and Chagatai began to creep along the riverbank, their boots crunching softly on the river rock. Genghis unslung his bow and stepped toward the river, his eyes locked on the deer. ?gedei was at his side, bow ready as well, and as one they moved into the shallows, their boots submerging in the icy water.
The deer heard Jochi and Chagatai and looked up, presenting perfect broadside targets for Genghis and ?gedei. The two men were ready, and their bowstrings hummed at nearly the same instant.
Two arrows buried deep into the neck of the buck, the soft slap of the impacts nearly inaudible across the river. The does started, though, much closer to the sound, and bounded off, disappearing into the woods. The buck struggled to keep its footing and then pitched forward, falling into the river where it thrashed helplessly.
?gedei whooped loudly and, raising his knees high with every step, splashed downstream as quickly as he could to stop the downed buck from floating away.
“Good shot,” shouted Chagatai. The guards whistled their appreciation, and Jochi even clapped as ?gedei splashed past.
The deer had stopped kicking, and the river was starting to tug at its body as ?gedei reached it. He stopped with a splash, made sure he wasn’t standing on loose rocks, and grabbed at the deer’s rack of antlers. “Help me,” he shouted.
“No!” Genghis’s voice cut across the water.
Bracing his feet, ?gedei looked back over his shoulder. Jochi and Chagatai were halfway across the river, and they too had stopped at the sound of their father’s voice.
“You two,” Genghis said, “go back to camp with the women; this is not your kill.”
Chagatai looked crestfallen immediately, and his shoulders slumped. Jochi hesitated.
“Go back!” Genghis roared, and ?gedei’s older brothers reacted quickly to their father’s tone and reversed their course. They stood, dripping, on the bank, unwilling to fully depart from the scene, and Genghis’s personal guard came down to stand with them as Genghis drew a great bone-handled skinning knife from his sash and strode into the river.
?gedei felt his balance slipping, and he had to turn back to the dead deer. The buck was bigger than he had thought, and his grip wasn’t very good. He couldn’t pull it out of the river by its antlers. He needed to get in a better position, and as he was trying to get behind the animal’s hindquarters, his father appeared at his side and slung his left arm around the shoulders of the dead animal.
“Ready?” Genghis asked, his face close to ?gedei’s.
He could smell his father’s breath—meat, garlic, the slightly sour aroma of airag. For an instant, he was a baby again, being held close by his father—this strange man he had never seen before, but who looked at him with fierce eyes. He had felt—without knowing these concepts—safe…protected…
“Lift!” shouted Genghis, and ?gedei stumbled back, the buck’s body lurching toward the bank. He stumbled over his own feet and slammed hard to the ground, the buck’s antlers jabbing him painfully in the thighs. The deer’s head lay in his lap, its body mostly out of the river.
Genghis stepped up onto the bank and looked down at ?gedei, a peculiar expression on his face.
“What?” ?gedei asked. Then, taking his father’s expression as disapproval, he contended, “If we’d kept talking, the deer would have heard—”
Genghis shook his head. “That was the right decision,” he said. “I am not angry that you interrupted me.”
?gedei tried to reason what his father was thinking.
“Why did you choose the buck?” Genghis asked.