The Shadow Hunter by Pat Murphy

Author:Pat Murphy [Murphy, Pat]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
ISBN: 9781480483255
Publisher: Open Road Media
Published: 2014-04-14T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 11

EXCEPT FOR THE hut that houses the satellite phone, the Valley has not changed. My hut stands just as I left it. The dried meat that I hung in the hut has been gnawed by small beasts; my stores of berries have been stolen by the birds and mice. But the hut is there. Still the spring bubbles with clear water. Still the stream runs along the edge of the meadow.

This evening, I sit on the flat rock in the meadow. I watch the deer grazing on the far side of the Valley. I can hear the wild swine in the brush by the stream. The insects in the grass cry in a steady rhythm.

The Valley has not changed, but I have changed. I was young and afraid when I left the Valley. I am young still, but I am not afraid now.

The shadows stretch and darken. The red glow of the sunset fades to twilight and still I sit on the flat rock, listening to the insects cry in the grass.

I hear a sound—a low growling. I catch the scent of the bear on the breeze. I see the gray shadow of the she-bear spirit standing in the meadow grass just a stone’s throw from me.

She is watching me and I meet her gaze. She does not move and I do not move. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, swaying a little. She does not move toward me.

“I have come back,” I say to her in the Old Tongue. “There must be peace between us.”

She sniffs the air, then she snorts and shakes her heavy head. “You are not the hunter who killed me,” she says.

“I am not,” I say. “But I will take your spirit.”

She shakes her head again. Then the meadow is empty, and I am speaking to the darkness. The wind carries only the scent of swine and deer and the sound of singing insects.

I sleep in my hut, wrapped in my deerskin. I sleep uneasily, awakening at the sounds of small beasts prowling in the night. Once, I catch the scent of the she-bear on the wind, but the wind shifts and the scent is gone. My dreams are empty.

I awaken at dawn and I begin as I must begin. I have grown soft during my days on the Outside. Now I hunt. I run down a young sow and kill her with spear and knife. Her flesh and her spirit make me strong. I build a fire in the sweathouse and I sweat the scents and tastes of the Outside from my body. I grow stronger.

Sometimes, on the night wind, I smell the she-bear. Sometimes, in the twilight, I hear a sound that could be her growling. But I do not see her. I feel tension in the air, like the feeling before a thunderstorm. I know that she is waiting, but she does not come to me. I do not know how to call her, but I think that I must learn.

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