Seth brushed aside the tears and paddled slowly, always keeping the shoreline in sight and on his left while waiting for the sun to set. Now and then he caught a glimpse of Modoc. He grew exhausted and hungry. Seth had no food, but those on shore had no boat to reach him. He felt safe enough sleeping in the canoe so far from land as he curled up. When he awoke, he was cold and wet from the small amount of water seeping into the bottom of the canoe.
It was long after sunset, the night dark, and the shoreline barely visible against the starry sky. Trees and mountains blocked off the stars on his left, so he knew where he was, and the canoe had not drifted too far. Now that they couldn’t see him in the darkness, he spun the canoe around and paddled much faster, this time keeping the shoreline on his right side. Let them search for me tomorrow in the wrong place. The increased activity helped warm him.
Later, he saw the campfire from his village lighting the underside of the trees, but he continued paddling until he was well past it, then he turned to shore. In the quiet of the night, he heard the chuckle of the small river they used for drinking water. One of his tasks had been carrying water from the river to the hut in bags made from animal skins. He knew the area well.
The canoe moved smoothly and silently up the river until he found a place where he could safely pull it ashore and hide it. He uprooted weeds and bushes and tossed them over the canoe until they hid it. Then, drinking deeply from the fresh water of the stream, he began moving closer to the remnants of the fire that still burned in front of the hut. Sleep for most people came right after dark, and he depended on the family being asleep.
Both dogs growled in warning as he crept closer through the underbrush, neither too loudly as they caught his scent and recognized him. The larger one liked him. He tiptoed to the smokehouse and pushed aside the cover. Smoke billowed out. At a sound, he turned to find both dogs watching closely, only a few steps away. He removed a small piece of venison and tore it in half along the grain. Each dog carried off its reward as he removed a larger piece of meat for himself.
He shifted the meat inside the smoker around to conceal the missing pieces. Then he closed the lid, fighting the urge to check and add firewood. That had been one of his many jobs. He moved back into the forest and circled the camp to reach the canoe. He’d have to hide it better before relocating it tomorrow night. He’d might even take it further up the coast. It would be safer there.
Still, he had managed to locate food, at least for tonight. When and if he got hungry enough, he’d go back, but the quantity of meat he held in his hands would feed him for days. He considered stealing a blanket or fur, but they would know it was gone and begin a search. If he only stole food and was careful, they might not discover it.
They don’t know me. Seth had only been with the family for a couple of moon cycles. They’d found him wandering alone after the Blue Water People attacked his village at River’s Bend. Those few of his people who were not killed became slaves. Seth had managed to hide from the Blue Water People, but when they left and the Salt People came, they found his footprints in the mud and soon located him. They captured him to either trade or sell. In the short term, they expected him to work.
The Salt People fed him as little as possible, but made him do the most work. The only time they talked to him was to bark orders to perform the most undesirable tasks.
The cold rain started to fall before he arrived back at the canoe. The boat was a prize and stroke of luck, his first in months. A hardwood frame covered in skins coated liberally with fat made the canoe rugged and waterproof. He turned it upside down to let the accumulated water drain out, then he crawled underneath for shelter.
When morning came, he pulled the boat farther up on the bank, at least ten steps from the water’s edge. He gathered enough grass and small shrubs to cover it. But he also knew that he’d soon have to find enough animal fat to keep it coated, or it wouldn’t remain waterproof for long. That went on the growing list of needs, right after warmth and food. A warm blanket or fur, enough food that would last for days, and a sheltered place to live also were at the top. He might also need a flint knife, a bow and several arrows, a spear, and a way to keep his feet warm while walking in the coming snow.
Surviving the coming winter was something he tried to keep from entering his mind. Surviving until tomorrow seemed difficult enough. He came to a conclusion. Without a store of supplies, at least some of the basics he’d identified, he would not make it.
The camp he’d fled held the things he needed. If he had been smarter, he could have stolen a few things each day and stockpiled them before escaping. No, they would have found out and then really hurt him.
He would make a raid on the camp. It was the only way. They would be wary and watching for him and the canoe, and they kept much of what he needed inside the hut, a place he never intended to go into again. He started taking inventory of useful items in the camp that he might snatch during the dark of night.
They usually left the hide scrapers beside the wood frames they used as stretchers. The hides themselves were a goal too, even though they were not yet fully tanned and would rot if not cured, they would provide warmth. He wished he could carry fire with him, but that was impossible. There was more meat in the smoker. Turnips and carrots grew in the garden if he dared dig them.
Madoc was so lazy he often left his spear outside. Seth couldn’t think of anything else that he would risk his life to obtain. After dark fell at the end of a very long and lonely day, he moved through the forest and positioned himself where he could see the camp. Only Madoc and Grigori remained outside in the dim light. They sat and talked until finally climbing to their feet and entering the hut where the rest of the family were already sleeping.
Seth waited and watched the sliver of a moon rise, he decided to let it climb above the treetops on the other side of the clearing before moving. He had to be sure all those inside were asleep. The moon sat still on its journey as his heartbeat increased. If they caught him stealing, it would cost more than a beating. If I don’t do this, it’ll cost me more.
He eased into the camp again, tossing the two dogs more pieces of smoked meat to keep them quiet. They eagerly ate the small slices as he picked up the spear. A bow and three arrows lay beside it. His hands grabbed them all as if without thought.
At the spot where Grigori had sat and worked at knapping flint knives, arrowheads, and spearheads, there were several incomplete works spread out on a sheet of hard leather. Most were poor quality since Grigori was still learning the craft, but no matter. They were sharp and awkward, but would cut. Seth carefully folded a piece of soft leather around them to use as a makeshift bag. He used one flint knife to cut the strips on two stretchers that held the hides in place, one coyote, and one deer. The skins were as hard as thin slabs of wood, but he folded them and scanned the area for anything else of value.
The smoker was his last stop. He tossed another handful of meat to the dogs, then placed several large pieces on top of the hides he carried. It was all he could manage, and it was awkward, at best. Two trips?
No, he’d take what he could and be happy. The risk of making another trip was too great. The major items on his mental list were in his arms, all but enough food.