Breakaway: Clan of the Ice Mountains Read Online Free PDF Page A

their spirits not getting enough water. No one can drink enough with all this sweating, and it’s so warm-”
    “Evil spirits will attack the weak as they chill again,” Suka interrupted. “I know. But my father won’t slow his pace.”
    Suka grabbed up his pack where he’d flung it on the ground moments before. “I’m going to see if Kinak can talk some sense into him.”
    Moolnik thought his first born son was as wise as an elder, and his second son was a fool. “Moolnik is the fool,” Attu muttered to himself, careful to keep his voice low.
    Looking toward his own father, Attu saw the strain on Ubantu’s face. His father shook his head, one long slow swing, emphasizing his own low opinion of his brother’s actions.
    Attu walked over to his parents and Meavu and flung down his pack of rolled furs and supplies. He took the dried meat his mother offered him and slipped his hand into his parka for his water skin. He watched as the other women adjusted their children’s slitted goggles and handed out more food. Meavu sat down heavily on the furs Attu had been carrying and, leaning back against them, pulled her parka hood down over her face to block out the sunlight. She fell asleep almost immediately.
    Attu and his mother exchanged glances. It was only halfway through the first day and already Meavu was exhausted. How is she going to be able to walk the many days it will take to reach the next land to the South?
    Yural clasped her spirit necklace in her hand, and Attu saw her lips forming a silent plea to her name spirit, Yuralria, one of the trystas of protection who dwelled in the Between. Protection trystas entered the women’s bodies through ritual dances, bringing their power of safety into the here and now. They were crucial to the wellbeing of every clan.
    Her prayer finished, Yural turned her attention to her man.
    “Ubantu, you cannot take your turn at the lead. Your leg-”
    “My leg is fine.”
    “But you’re already limping; your ankle aches, I know. One of the other hunters can take your place. You can-”
    “It is not your place to say, woman,” Ubantu interrupted her again with a downward thrust of his right hand, chopping off any further discussion. Ubantu turned his back on Attu’s mother and silently chewed on the leathery piece of dried snow otter she’d given him.
    Attu knew his father was worried about taking his place as the lead hunter after their rest. The wind had picked up, and Ubantu would be heading directly into its teeth, with no one ahead of him to block its strength.
    He knows he’s not strong enough to lead in this wind for half a sun as Moolnik has done, Attu thought, especially at such a grueling pace. But not leading will show weakness. And father has had to give up so much because of his injury. Moolnik has taken charge and the others have let him. No one else seems to want the responsibility to lead but Moolnik. The other hunters see him as the natural leader if his older brother cannot. And Father has not objected.
    For as long as Attu could remember, it had been this way between Ubantu and Moolnik. His father tried to get along with his brother, but Moolnik refused to see that Ubantu only wanted their life-long rivalry to end.
    Once, when Moolnik had sworn at Ubantu and stalked out of their snow house, Attu had grown frustrated with his father’s constant placating of his younger brother.
    “Why does he hate you so?” Attu had asked.
    Instead of answering, his father had grabbed his fishing tools and left.
    Once his father had gone, Attu turned to his mother, who’d been busy doing woman’s work in the shadows, away from the men’s argument. “Why, mother?” Attu pleaded. “I need to know.”
    Attu’s mother moved to the heat of the nuknuk lamp and patting the fur beside her, motioned for him to sit. She placed her hands on her spirit necklace and took in a deep breath.
    “Your father’s father, your grandfather, was a cruel and violent man,” she began.