--back to Pakas index
--back to Talzhemir's Treasure Trove


The Pakas

Story #2:
The Ice Lake


      The Raukors killed in last night's fight were no longer screaming, striped predators. Now they were meat, wonderful delicious meat. Matu Paka cut off little pieces of liver and the family ate the tidbits raw. Grandmother and Sister-brother skinned one giant bird. Matu, the father, took some nearby birch branches to make the hide into a sled. They tethered all the beb-kras to it. Healed by Sheesah's herb magick, Dimu and Grandfather could walk but it was still painful.

      The Paka family came to a frozen waterfall, with frothy arches of water caught in the air. Transparent icicles as long as their arms hung from distended white ledges. Matu broke a small one off and handed it to Koki, who promptly began licking it to a sharp point.

      As soft wind blew feathery snow aside, Dimu looked at a place where the ice was a little darker. He saw the living liquid river beneath. The ice was so clear he could see a school of fish moving below. Suddenly he caught a glimpse of the face of a beautiful female furre below, surrounded by flowing wavy hair.

      For a moment he was frozen, gazing at her. She pressed a webbed paw up against the ice from the other side. She looked back at him and smiled shyly. The young wolf felt suffused by warmth and quiet joy. Then she was gone, as quickly as she had come. Dimu stood staring with his mouth a bit open.

      Matu noticed his son had stopped. "Dimu?" he said.

      Startled out of his reverie, Dimu looked blankly at Matu. He found his tongue a moment later. "There was a girl, Paffa..."

      "A girl...?" Matu prompted gently, although he was a little confused.

      "Under the ice," Dimu said. "She had a long body and fins, not legs. She was very beautiful!"

      Matu lowered his voice and stepped nearer to Dimu. He said quietly, "Be careful, Dimu. They say the Dark Spirits know when the Old Law is broken. Grandfather is still with us, and there is a price to be paid." The rosy glow inside that Dimu had been feeling was replaced by dread.

      From a distance, Sister-brother called out, "Grandmother says, if we make a hole, we can fish in the ice!" Grandmother gave a cheery wave.

      Both Matu and Dimu said at the same time, "No!" Before Sister-brother could learn more, Matu gave an explanation: "We have plenty of food. There is no need."

      First Son Dimu tried to put the water-furre out of his mind. Naturally, therefore, she was all he could think about for the rest of the day.


      When Matu's band arrived at mid-day, they found the young people were playing Rusah-Rusah, a game with sticks and a flat stone on the ice. When Sister-brother and Koki went to join the bunch, Dimu started to do so, as well, but Matu held him back with a paw on his shoulder. "Not you," Matu said, in a kind voice. "I want you to come meet your future in-laws." Dimu tried to be happy about this, and he felt guilty when that emotion would not come. It left his face somewhat stony.

      Remembering his own wedding week, Matu understood. He walked with Dimu a ways apart from Sheesah and the elders, and said, "Is there anything you want to ask your old Paffa?"

      Before he spoke, Dimu paused thoughtfully. He said, "You told me all about the Boy-Girl 'dance' years ago, and I've seen furrelings born twice. But why is it forbidden to 'dance' with someone who is not your mate?"

      "Sharing joys and sorrows bond us together. As long as we live, the need for this does not stop. Grandfather said the man of the family should always smile... but I say, never hide your sorrows from your mate."

      Dimu nodded, not because of duty or respect, but because this made sense to him. Then he said, "Paffa-- I don't feel ready for this."

      Matu said, "There must always be a first time. After you are married, hold her hand as you Walk. There is no hurry for the two of you to 'dance'. Your Moffa and I Walked two years together before we made you. It was one year for Grandfather and Grandmother. If there is a pattern, I predict you will Walk for three." Dimu nodded, feeling better already.

      So Paffa and son walked together. As they approached each camp site of tromped-down snow, Dimu wondered, "Is it this one?" They reached the far edge and there were eight forms waiting in a half-circle, like the tall sun-stones of the summer plains where Dimu had been born. Dimu's bride, however, was not visible; she was confined to a little dome-shaped temporary hut.