At least the children are a bit noisy. I overhear a trio of boys chattering about the traps they set this morning. One boy brags that he has already caught a squirrel, and I smile, thinking of me and my brothers at that age. Pek was always the one bragging.
Once we are all collected under the roof, your brother Chev motions for us to be seated. Pelts have been scattered across the sandy soil, and I find myself sharing one with my mother and Roon. Kesh and my father sit beside us. Your clan is bigger than ours—maybe thirty to thirty-five people, counting babies and small children—where our clan is twenty-four in all. With so many people crowded together, I lose sight of you once we are seated, but I know you are somewhere at the opposite edge of the crowd where I’d noticed you standing with Seeri. Pek is not far from you, seated with strangers he must have befriended while he’s been in your camp.
When everyone sits, I notice the towering lattice of firewood arranged in a large hearth between the edge of the canopy and the kitchen. At home such a large fire would be considered extravagant, even wasteful, an affront to the Spirits of the trees. But here, wood is much more plentiful, and the tree Spirits more generous.
Chev signals to the drummer, who resumes the slow, even beat that called us to the meal. From the kitchen, two figures emerge, each wearing a huge mask of carved wood—so huge they cover their bodies from head to waist. I’ve never seen a mask of wood before—Urar makes beautiful masks of bearskin and walrus hide painted with ocher—but these are so different, so fierce and intensely foreign, a shiver runs over my skin. The face depicted on each mask suggests a cat—a square nose dug out of the center, narrow eyes and sharp whiskers carved at opposing angles, slanting away from a wide mouth framed by long, curved teeth. Each of the masked figures carries a burning torch. As they circle the hearth, moving with exaggerated steps in time to the beat, they set their torches to the kindling at the base of the firewood.
“Spirit of the cat,” the masked figures chant in unison, “climb this smoke to the Land Above the Sky.” They chant in low, furtive whispers, but I recognize the voices of Ela and Yano. “Climb this smoke. . . . Climb this smoke. . . . Climb this smoke. . . .” They circle the hearth once as the flames catch and travel over the branches. The chanting stops, but the drumbeat quickens. They circle faster and faster, their steps becoming leaps, the flames climbing higher, billows of smoke rolling outward and under the roof. I pull in a deep breath of soot and a wave of nausea crashes over me. The beat of the drum grows louder, faster, louder still, my heart races and my head swims, until I slump against the bearskin on the ground. My eyes fall shut, but instead of darkness, the fire’s glow presses against my eyelids, surrounding me in white light.
Then all at once, the drumming stops. My eyes open. Ela and Yano are gone, leaving only Chev beside the towering fire. I sit up groggily, as if waking from a dream.
“Friends,” Chev says, raising his hands, “the Divine continues to make this a prosperous clan. We thank our visitors from the north, from the clan of the Manu, especially Kol, who with his skill and strength has slain the man-killing cat.”
As these words echo in my head, my younger brothers, Kesh and Roon, pat me on the arms and make a scene of congratulating me. “Quit showing off,” I say under my breath. “It’s bad manners.”
“Kol,” Chev calls. “Come take your place at the head of the line.”
I search the periphery of the crowd until I find my brother Pek. He looks back for a moment—I know he’s seen me—but then he turns away.
All his life he’s out-hunted me. Now when it really matters, I’ve come and shown him up.
As I try to shake off the feeling that I’ve let my brother down, a girl of about twelve comes up to me and takes me by the arm.
“Kol?” she says. “I’m Lees. Chev is my older brother. They wouldn’t take me along when my siblings visited your clan, but I’m happy to meet you now.”
Lees looks like a miniature version of Seeri—her face is crowded with wide eyes and a broad smile. She rounds up my family—all except for Pek, who I see across the crowd has joined up with you and Seeri—and steers us into line ahead of everyone else.