The Wings of Ashtaroth

Bonus Chapter II: Aitu

Aitusik: Ninutsuet

Spring had come early to Ninutsuet this year. The nails of Mother Ice and Sister Snow had clawed their way back from the riverbeds and bushes, and her old sorcerer uncle, Tissungagat, said they would see berries in the weeks to come.

Aitusik thought that was silly. Weeks could be long, and why wait for berries when you could hunt for them?

Sqwoosh.

Her foot squelched in the sodden soil as she trudged uphill from the camp in the cove toward the stunted balsams that overlooked the bay. Alluk plodded beside her, giggling each time he pulled his shoes from the sucking soil and the ground let out another belch.

If Aitu walked further south, maybe she could meet the berries halfway, and then her mother could stew them till they were tart and rich and so melty warm that you could drink them down like water. Aitu would surely be honoured as fittest hunter come autumn and all the village—including her big brother Poanni and handsome Aki and stupid ugly Mamik—would gather round to listen to the story of how Aitu had braved the—

Urrrrrrgh. A gigantic whine from just behind Aitu shattered her fantasy.

"It's too far," Alluk complained, finally bored of the belching sounds, and exaggerating his tiredness with a slump of his shoulders. He heaved one of his feet from the mud and it came free with a pop. "The mud's too thick. My mother's going to smack both of us if my shoes get ruined. Again."

She didn't say it aloud because it was mean, but if all it took for Alluk's shoes to be ruined was a little mud, then his mother needed to get better at sewing.

"Don't be lazy," she chided. "We only just started."

Aitu continued walking, forcing Alluk to start up again. They marched together toward the trees, which were densely packed and dark, full of animals and secrets. Aitu's mother and father warned her not to go near the woods alone, or anywhere alone really. There were bears, they said. There were great fish in the water that could swallow her all up, or the ice could break off and drift out to sea, or a stranger could take her and they'd never see her again. There was the Black Man of the Woods—the lord of evil spirits—and there was Sea Mother and her kin who even grown hunters knew not to test their luck against.

But Aitu was careful about these things. She listened best of all to Tissungagat; she knew how to turn herself into a bird and fly away, or into a mouse or a fish.

Well, in principle she knew how to turn herself into a mouse. She hadn't actually done it yet, but that was only because she was waiting for the right time. She had to really need to do it, and when the moment came she'd be ready. Besides, everyone knew Aitu's family had magic in their blood. When it came time to ochre their skin, someone from their family always cared for the sacred water used to mix the paint.

Snow-damp branches licked the caribou leather of Aitu's coat like tongues. Were there spirits in the branches, teasing her, trying to eat the ochre off her skin? She pulled her arms tight to her sides, comforted by the warm crush of her coat's furry interior against her skin, ignoring the pull of the branches at the two long black braids that framed her face.

The woods' spirits probably knew Aitu could do no such thing as turn into a bird.

For a moment, between the trees, Aitu was sure she could see a dark figure—tall as the stick-thin western birches the band had just left behind for the eastern summer camp. The branches around it bent back like it had moved.

Aitu's heart thumped. Curling her fingers into her palms, she squinted into the darkness until her gaze blurred around the spot where she'd sensed movement.