Eternal Time Shadows Box Set 2 / Volumes 11-20: Sweetly Romantic Time Travel Mini-Adventures by Lisa Shea

Author:Lisa Shea [Shea, Lisa]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2016-02-07T05:00:00+00:00

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I pulled my caribou-hide coat tighter around my body, the hood keeping the worst of the frigid winter wind from my face. The gods were truly testing our tribe’s strength this season of the long night. Our Hankutchin people had survived countless cycles of long, brutal winters and short, broiling summers. But somehow this seemed the worst in even the elders’ memories.

My stepmother and father were tucked inside our cozy dome-shaped hut, the thick skins keeping out the biting cold. She was undoubtedly weaving a beautiful basket out of tama root and decorating it with porcupine quills. Normally I would have enjoyed sitting alongside her, working on my own weaving and listening to my father’s stories of times long past. But something had me roaming the edge of our winter village. Something had pulled me out of the safety of our shelter and out into the glistening dusk, where the thick snow gently blanketed the earth.

There was a motion to my right and I smiled. Cooper, our medicine woman, must have been checking in on the newborn, for she came from that direction and was heading toward her own hut at the honored center of our community. I waved a greeting to my trusted friend. She grinned at me before tucking back into her own dome.

The flap fell shut, and the deep dark returned.

Once again it was only me, the last glimmer of the pale sun on the horizon, and the ever-present cold.

I wrapped my arms around myself and plowed forward. I left behind the collection of huts which was our winter home. In the spring we would set into motion again, in tune with the salmon and caribou. We would move as they did, taking only what we needed and sharing our bounty with the bear and fox which shared our world.

Our world was always changing, and I enjoyed that. Every day provided a new opportunity. A fresh beauty to appreciate.

My footsteps took me to the edge of a slope and tension drew in along my shoulders.

Some changes were harder for me to embrace.

I looked down the whiteness toward the glimmering lights of Dawson City. A mere three years ago there had been barely a permanent structure in all of the lands we traveled. Just the wandering tribes, the quiet caribou, and the circling eagles. But then a shiny rock had put a fever into the minds of strangers. A bare trickle of hard-eyed visitors had become a deluge. Now it seemed the pale-skin strangers were everywhere, a pox on the land.

A heaviness sank into my shoulders. We had tried to welcome the newcomers. Tried to help them understand how precious each aspect of our world was. Despite our knowledge and skill in our chosen home, they treated us as if we were sharp rocks in a horse’s hooves. Troublesome. Unworthy to even speak to.

I shook my head. They raped the land and left it mangled and raw. Soon there would be no fish left in the streams.

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