The Legend of Ataneq Nanuq

Chapter 1

PRESENT DAY

A crisp command silenced the dogs as the weathered, leathery face pressed hard against the fractured window, a legacy from last winter’s trials. His faltering gaze followed the rocky shoreline of the bay through the broken glass and from the confines of the tired, dishevelled hut, keeping his aging outline pressed against the wall and trying to stay out of sight. His panicked hot breath steamed the pane, partially obliterating the view while two milky brown eyes, bloodshot and squinting from too many years exposed to the glaring icy landscape, traced the small ship’s progress as it entered the deepest part of the wilderness of Scoresby Sund.

A worried frown settled across his wrinkled brow. It had been nearly two years since he had glimpsed another European, and by his reckoning that wasn’t long enough. The fear rose into his chest and threatened to freeze the scene into a long buried moment in history he’d worked so hard to forget. In the isolation of the wilderness, there was no one to impress or be judged by. Being alone was sometimes lonely, but it was far easier than feeling hunted by his own kind and required to perform or give an account of what he had done. There just wasn’t a plausible, easy explanation for what had happened able to satisfy him, let alone a civilised European court. He had evaded his hunters for well over fifty years, vanishing like a shy Arctic fox into the tundra and beyond the reach of their prejudiced form of justice. He was bitterly aware, maybe even more so today than the day it happened... he was a fugitive, a wanted man.

Dwarfed by icebergs floating lazy and majestic in defiance to the seasonal thaw and towering rebelliously against the smoky-blue backdrop of the late summer sky, the tiny ship appeared insignificant by comparison. The remnants of the winter sea ice, now scattered and breaking up over the surface of the warming water, playfully nudged the steel hull of the white ship as she pushed closer to the shore and his hut. The ship’s movement through the Sund created ripples that disturbed the tranquillity and betrayed the ship’s intended direction. As it came closer, he could make out the Russian name: MV Multanovskiy. Momentarily distracted, his eyes diverted from the vessel and focused on a nearby berg. Desperate thoughts chased around his mind. Surely the Russians couldn’t have an interest in my history or a reason to pick a fight with me.

Just to be certain, he stayed well out of sight, anyway.

Surrounded by a backdrop of rugged snowcapped mountains, the tortured old hut stood on crumbling brick pillars just one metre above the rocky tundra floor and only a stone’s throw from the Sund. The floor timbers sagged with age, complaining bitterly with every step the old man took while the fire had finally gone out in the old fireplace. He had used up the last of the seal blubber fuel and the gaps in the stone chimney let the windblown chill into the hut, something he would have to fix in what remained of this summer before the ice storms of January. The roof above him was the strongest part of the hut, strengthened to support the weight of dense winter snow and the turbulent gales of the long, Arctic night. It wasn’t the Ritz, but it was home. After the summer thaw had advanced and defeated the winter pallor, Salix glauca turned the once white-snow-covered tundra into a rich red, giving the illusion of a living welcome mat sprawling across the landscape and leading to the rocky shores of the Sund, testifying that the long winter had indeed retreated and the short summer was now in command.

As he gauged the ship’s position once again, a sense of irony struck him. In the depth of the endless Arctic night, he had driven his dogsled clear across the frozen Sund on an ice shelf two metres thick to fish through a drilled hole in the ice, close to where the ship now cautiously picked its way across the fluid summer sea and towards his home. He watched in surprise as the ship executed a wide arc and came within fifty metres of his old dwelling. Seemingly convinced there were no signs of life, it turned unexpectedly and steered again for the entrance to the Sund, picked up speed and silently slid out of the fjord, bringing a sigh of relief from the old man. From his position hidden within the shelter, the aging eyes struggled to focus on the departing vessel as it vanished from view.

The dogs began to whimper, eager to get back outside into their natural environment and leave the confines of their hiding place. He cautiously surveyed the scene outside the window, sweeping the barren landscape for any threats. His searching stopped abruptly while his blurry eyes pressed shut and open again in an attempt for clarity, trying to focus on a large granite boulder some distance away. It was still there after so many winters and summer thaws, perched lifeless on the granite mound, weather-bleached and staring in the direction of the fjord where Nanuq had slaughtered him: the skull of a muskox.

The hapless creature had wandered into a two-day standoff between the old man trapped inside his hut and a hungry nanuq, keeping the human pinned down. The dogs had alerted the old man to the presence of the dangerous male polar bear, while Nanuq had watched every move from his hidden position, his fur camouflaged perfectly against the white winter environment. Unwittingly, the muskox had sacrificed his life and meandered into Nanuq’s patient trap, ending the ordeal for the old man. Nanuq struck with such stealth and ferocity, driven by hunger, his agile and powerful 600 kilogram frame standing 2.7 metres tall launched with deadly accuracy as his voracious, tearing jaws crushed the life from his victim. It was doubtless the muskox even saw him coming. His hunger then satisfied, Nanuq, the powerful male polar bear, had turned toward the hut and tossed his head and sniffed the air in a warning toward the old man. Nanuq’s dark eyes had set a deliberate challenge, daring him to do battle in a future time. One last huff and Nanuq had sauntered away into the depths of the polar winter, leaving enough of his conquest as a sign of his rank and stature among the polar bears, allowing the smaller, hungry subordinate bears to clean up after him.

After the altercation with Nanuq, the old man had left the skull of the muskox where it lay, as a chilling reminder and evidence of the ruthless fight for survival in a hostile and unforgiving frozen wilderness devoid of friendly human contact. One lapse in concentration in a powerful winter storm, where the temperature plunged to in excess of minus twenty-three degrees Celsius, or an unguarded moment flaunting his life in front of a hungry, prowling nanuq away from the safety of his shelter, could prove fatal. Still, he was more at home in the cruelty and isolation of the tundra where man, beast and the environment fought to the death only for survival purposes. When hunger and the depths of winter no longer threatened, man and beast lived together in an uneasy cohabitation, keeping a close, wary eye on each other. Unlike European society, where a fatal blow constantly lurked in every corner and every human being was an enemy and a target in a relentless drive to conquer and dominate each other. He shivered as he imagined society closing the door on his troubled freedom and trapping him in a crowded, man-made nightmare.

Sensing the threat had passed, Akiak’s warm muzzle pushed into his empty hand, forcing his thoughts back to the present and reminding him his dogs needed to get outside. She was his faithful dogsled team leader, wise in the things of the tundra, saving his life more often than he cared to remember. He stooped to ruffle her thick fur and then opened the hut door, the dogs bursting out into the warm sunshine, excitedly barking and enjoying their sudden freedom. The temperature this time of year was an exhausting one degree Celsius and there was much to do before the relentless winter night once again descended on his world, plunging him into the crippling freeze. The old man felt different in the bright polar sunshine, lighter in spirit and even a small sense of hope pervaded his thinking. A noticeable freshness drifted across the polar tundra, leaving the threats of winter far from his mind while his old enemy, Nanuq, had migrated further north following the food source associated with the permanent pack ice of the extreme Arctic pole. For now he was content and an uneasy peace settled over his soul.

As he ventured outside, he bent to investigate the sled lying unused in the protection of the crawl space under his hut. He stiffly drew it from its resting place and examined its condition. The shaped timber skids had dried and split, but it was still solid and usable. The tow straps the dogs wore were stiff, but would soon become pliable once the dogs had worn them in again. A shrill whistle from the old man called the dogs to the sled and away from the serious play they had engaged in. They came barking and running, excited at the thought of pulling a sled again.

Today he would venture onto the edge of the vast tundra away from the hut to trade Arctic fox furs he had trapped during last winter. His buyer, Katu, lived fifty kilometres away and his store was an outpost for the remaining trappers living deep in the wilderness. He would trade for supplies for the coming winter and learn the grave news of the outside world. Katu was a native-born Greenlander with no apparent interest in the history of an old European fugitive. The round trip would take two days and he usually stayed the night with Katu.

The old man peered over his shoulder at the hut from his position standing at the back of the sled, a sick feeling rising in his gut as if he was saying goodbye to a trusted friend. With a pile of furs lying in the passenger well of the sled, he breathed out a nervous sigh, turned and mushed the dogs on toward Katu. The dogs barked with excitement as the old wooden sled jolted forward and sped across the Salix glauca effortlessly.

Two hours into the journey, the old man spotted a strange sight in the distance. He called the dogs to a halt and tried to squint to clear his vision and focus. The fear rose, marshalling his senses to high alert at the outline of a large nanuq prostrated on the ground as if he was preparing to pounce. Thoughts flashed through his mind and then reason took over. All nanuq should be hundreds of kilometres to the north by now and if this particular bear was a threat, Akiak would have surely warned him. The old man trusted her implicitly; her senses were sharp, always testing the environment around her for threats and she missed nothing. From her position at the head of the stationary dog team, she raised her snout again to taste the air in the direction of the nanuq, wary of the deadly menace. Convinced nanuq offered no threat, she turned to concentrate on another distraction and contemptuously lost interest in the hulking, motionless form.

The old man stepped from the sled and reached for his rifle, then cautiously measured his ground till he was almost on top of the predator. The smell of decaying flesh assaulted his senses and a gasp filled his lungs. There had been a momentary struggle before this large, three metre tall, male nanuq had succumbed to a single, brutal force that had stolen his life. The old man prodded the dead beast with his rifle butt and estimated the nanuq to be close to 700 kilos, then searched around till he found the footprint of the culprit, perfectly preserved in a mud puddle created by melting snow. He dropped to his haunches and examined the massive pad print, then compared the huge male bear’s paw lying dead before him.

It was nearly fifty millimetres bigger.

He swallowed hard, the fear bristling the hair on the back of his neck and out of habit he searched the surroundings, gripping the barrel of his gun tightly. After all these years, his old nemesis was still around somewhere. The last time he saw a track like this he was only a boy, nearly sixty years ago, and the memories of that horrific day etched forever into his young mind, shaped his life and as a fugitive, drove him deep into the wilderness.

*~*~*~*

Chapter 2

SUMMER 1994, AMMASSALIK VILLAGE, EASTERN GREENLAND

Aalik Egede stood peering through the solitary window in the family home perched high on a hillside above the town, watching his seventeen-year-old daughter, Aanasi, walking down into the village accompanied by a girlfriend. The two girls stopped suddenly and their attention turned towards a distraction, a distraction that Aalik didn’t approve of.

How many times must I make my feelings known to Aanasi? That boy is bad news! Aalik’s agitated voice bounced off the window and carried across the room and collided with his wife’s hearing, while his angry gaze bored into the young man who had no right to be talking to his daughter at all.

You make too much of his attentions, Aalik. She is just finding out that she is an attractive young woman and is enjoying the interest from young men. Leave her be and she will make good decisions.

Aalik let the words of his wife fall to the ground at his feet as if she hadn’t spoken. She is promised to Romaanaq. Their wedding has been planned since their infancy!

The young like to choose their own matches these days; besides, what woman would want to be saddled with such a walrus as Romaanaq? the wife retorted, watching her husband’s incredulous, open-mouthed gaze turn from the window and fall upon her like a derailing locomotive.

He is my cousin’s son and is a fine...

Walrus! the wife once again interjected. He has no sense or tact, and given the choice of his handsomeness or a walrus’, a prospective bride would take the walrus! Do you seriously propose to tie our beautiful daughter to such a cold-blooded creature?!

If she wants to remain my daughter, she will do as she is told! Aalik’s words set like concrete as he turned back to face the window. Trouble was brewing on their near horizon.

Ack...! Word is, among our relatives, that Romaanaq has eyes for another of his cousins.

Aalik turned around abruptly and shot his wife a stare that would melt an iceberg. Who?!

Evnike, that’s who!

Evni... Evnike! She is a narwhal of a girl! he shot back.

Then the two will live happily together under the sea, Aalik’s wife was losing interest in the battle.

Do you not see the benefit we would gain by such a marriage? My cousins are well-to-do and some of that would come our way when Aanasi marries Romaanaq.

Now I see the greedy heart exposed before you! You have no interest in your daughter’s happiness, only your own gain.

Happiness! What is such a word?! Our marriage was arranged by our parents and we have survived, Aalik boasted.

There is a big difference between surviving and living, Aalik! she retorted, a hint of sarcasm floating above her statement.

What is good for Aanasi’s parents is good for her! It is time she was taken as a bride and I intend to make the arrangements before she ruins our lives with an improper choice.

Aanasi’s mother waved her hand in frustration at her husband and then walked into the kitchen to escape his babbling.

*~*~*~*

May I walk with you ladies? Nikkulaat’s rich, baritone voice teased their ears.

Aanasi’s heart did a skip, as she and Elona giggled at Nikkulaat’s greeting. Elona knew all too well Aanasi’s coy feelings towards the tall, handsome Nikkulaat and to some extent she was envious of the obvious attention Nikkulaat focused on Aanasi. Aanasi folded her arm around Elona’s in a protective reflex; she wanted to be alone with Nikkulaat, but she feared being alone with him at the same time.

You may, Nikkulaat, Elona answered, understanding her friend’s dilemma while Aanasi bashfully glanced down at the ground, her cheeks aglow with shy admiration.

Are you well, Aanasi? Nikkulaat’s adoring gaze was directed straight at her.

Aanasi’s eyes were flashing and full of innocence as she lifted her glance and met his stare, giving him a smile that melted Nikkulaat on the spot. I am well, thank you, Nikkulaat.

Nikkulaat’s breath caught in his throat as if he had been winded. The soft voice carried across the summer day and tantalised his senses with its sweet perfume. Another stolen glimpse caught the sheen of Aanasi’s long black hair glistening in the warm sunshine like rich, deep black velvet hanging enticingly down over her back. Her beauty mesmerised him and he fought to tear his eyes away from another admiring gape, narrowly avoiding her eyes catching him in the act.

We were going to walk up on the mountain ridge to the Valley of Flowers. I am told it is carpeted in blooms after the thaw, Elona offered, breaking the awkward, unspoken game so obviously playing out between Aanasi and Nikkulaat. Why don’t you join us, Nikkulaat? Elona added.

Aanasi glanced shyly from Elona to Nikkulaat and when he consented, a smile lit Aanasi’s face like an unfolding rose bud. Far below the mountain ridge, the village dwindled into insignificance as the path meandered past swiftly flowing waterfalls and streams. Ahead, the trail cut through two rocky peaks blanketed in a patchwork of melting snow and delicately adorned with fluffy white clouds hanging lazily over the high summits. Time seemed to stand still as they ambled up the path between the two peaks into the valley, laughing carelessly at nothing and talking excitedly about everything.

In an unguarded moment, Nikkulaat bent to the valley floor and picked a small bunch of purple flowers and nervously handed them to Aanasi. These pretty flowers can’t compete with your beauty, Aanasi, his anxious voice faltered slightly.

She smiled at the gesture, her eyes dancing in delight and she took his offering willingly, but a chance meeting of his hand on hers while she accepted his gift made her heart jump and her cheeks flushed red, betraying her feelings. Then without thinking, Nikkulaat closed the gap between him and Aanasi, his heart pounding in his ears. Aanasi had overpowered him and he was drifting, aimlessly in love, like a ship without a rudder about to crash headlong onto the jagged rocks of desire. Aanasi floated into a dreamland, fearful of her first kiss and wanting to hide, but hypnotised by her feelings and riveted to the spot by expectation. Her heart rate increased as anticipation wrapped around her, her breath hot with yearning, feeling like she was going to faint. As Nikkulaat’s warm lips softly touched hers, her breath escaped in a delighted sigh and her knees buckled under her, collapsing into his arms and filling her body with blissful passion.

Elona was waiting for a cue to leave Aanasi with Nikkulaat, and that moment had just come. Without saying a word, Elona slipped unnoticed from the couple and left them to discover their new, innocent love.

*~*~*~*

The sounds of bitter conflict echoed out over the village from the Egede house, punctuated by the heartbreaking sobs of a young woman begging to be released from her father’s business deal. Aanasi pleaded and pleaded against the marriage to Romaanaq, dropping to the floor at her father’s feet and weeping in a bitter, crushed tirade.

I don’t love him, Father, and I never will! My heart belongs to another and if I can’t be with him, I don’t want to be with anyone! The emotional tears and despair mingled in a crumpled body laying heaving and sobbing on the kitchen floor.

I knew that boy was no good! Aalik spat the words at his wife, who was kneeling next to her daughter, trying to comfort her. Leave things alone and she will make the right decisions, you said. Now look what your nonsense has brought! You will obey me, Aanasi, and you will marry Romaanaq!

Aanasi’s violent sobbing increased at her father’s words. She was destined to a life of misery, separated from the only man she would ever love.

The door to the house slammed shut as Aalik left the women to their grief and come to terms with his wishes. Aanasi cuddled into her mother, crying, sobbing and trying to talk at the same time.

Shhh, Aanasi, calm yourself. There will be a wedding as your father expects and you will marry that day. It is done. Now prepare yourself to be a bride.

*~*~*~*

Reverend Emil Rasmussen checked the church registry for the coming Saturday: there were to be two weddings in close proximity to each other, one straight after the other. Two consecutive weddings in the church was nothing unusual, but what was unusual, both Inuit brides had decided for a traditional European wedding service complete with white dress and matching veils instead of the traditional long pants, fur boots and colourful jumper.

Weddings had a sombre tone when an arranged marriage was in progress.

*~*~*~*

Aanasi dawdled in a desperate state of procrastination, hoping she could put off the inevitable, but as she stared at her white gown and her haggard face in the mirror, she felt lifeless and doomed to a future as a machine. She shuddered at the thought of Romaanaq touching her, while the memory of her first kiss that afternoon with Nikkulaat sent her spiralling into deep despair again.

Her mother startled her as she entered Aanasi’s small room and spoke. Aanasi, these things have a way of working out, she tried to console her daughter.

Aanasi wiped the tears from her eyes and tried to speak, They didn’t work out for you, Mum.

Ah, not so, Aanasi. If I hadn’t done my duty to your father then I would never have had you.

How did you cope with your life, Mum? It must have been horrible.

You learn to adjust. I have a request that you will have to trust me with.

Aanasi stared at her mother. What now?

Don’t lift your veil to your husband until you are alone with him. Now it is time to go.

Aanasi was about to ask about her mother’s strange request but she was ushered out into her waiting transport instead.

*~*~*~*

The blood ran cold down into Aanasi’s feet as she stood facing the entry to the church and the back view of a suited man waiting for her to join him at his side. The music started and she began a sombre walk, a sickening feeling growing in her stomach and she glanced through the church windows, looking for a mode of escape. She turned to face the front again, dawdling slowly towards the waiting man and her desperate future. The seat beside where her mother stood was empty and that puzzled her. Her father was absent. Finally, she stepped up to the man standing beside her and she nearly fainted.

Nikkulaat’s beaming smile greeted her.

Confusion played across her face and she peered across to her mother. A stern finger held up to her mother’s lips begged her to play along. Suddenly she understood. Two weddings were happening today, but the brides had been swapped, and now the veil request made sense. Evnike and Romaanaq were being married straight after, but Aanasi and Nikkulaat would be far away before her father ever knew what had happened.

*~*~*~*

Chapter 3

WINTER 2004 – REMOTE WILDERNESS CAMP, SCORESBY LAND, EASTERN GREENLAND

It had been ten years since Aanasi’s shock marriage to Nikkulaat, and each day had been like an endless honeymoon. Aanasi could only guess at the price her mother would have paid for her role in the deception of her father, but she was grateful for her mother’s sacrifice and the life she now had. Nikkulaat adored Aanasi and she, in turn, returned his feelings. Aanasi felt complete and alive in the arms of her man, but it soon became apparent that something was wrong and she couldn’t conceive. The pain and shame she felt at an empty womb drove a wedge between her and Nikkulaat, and she often wondered whether they were being punished for deceiving her father by her marrying Nikkulaat instead of Romaanaq.

Nikkulaat and Aanasi loved the peace and rugged beauty of Eastern Greenland. It almost seemed like they were the only two people left on the planet and that God always appeared close and inviting, walking in a frozen wonderland with two people He loved dearly. That night they huddled, sitting together on a bearskin rug laid on the open ice and under the playful sky, watching the northern lights weaving its beauty between the myriads of stars while their igloo home sat behind them, reflecting the green cascading lights in its white icy structure.

Nikkulaat wrapped Aanasi tighter in his arms, pulling her against his chest. I love you.

Aanasi cuddled into his warm embrace. I love you, too, she whispered.

It doesn’t matter if we can’t have children. You are all I want.

Nikkulaat’s confession brought Aanasi hope, and she cuddled closer into him, even though she still wanted to give him a child. Nikkulaat suddenly stood and pulled Aanasi up with him, kissing her with a deep, fiery passion, melting her freezing lips and igniting desire within her. They walked together and crawled into their igloo home, entangled in tenderness until the fire of passion subsided into euphoric exhaustion and peaceful sleep overcame them, refilling the cup of love once again.

Aanasi awoke to find Nikkulaat had already gone to hunt for food and check the traps he’d set the previous day. She felt relaxed and complete, longing for Nikkulaat to return and express his love for her once again. In her morning activity, a peculiarity pervaded her body and she wondered about the strange happenings, convinced that something was different and unusual. In a matter of weeks her suspicions were confirmed, setting a deep, fulfilling glow around Aanasi.

She would bear Nikkulaat a child.

The winter months held grave dangers for anyone trying to survive in the deep Scoresby Land wilderness. Hungry nanuq could appear at any moment, and Aanasi had to be ready to defend herself while Nikkulaat was away from the shelter. At Nikkulaat’s insistence, Aanasi became proficient at handling a rifle. There weren’t any neighbours to rely on and survival was solely on their own shoulders. Nikkulaat wanted to send Aanasi into the closest village of Ittoqqortoormiit to get trained help for the delivery of their child, but a late autumn storm blocked their path for days, and Aanasi gave birth in their igloo shelter instead, aided by a very unprepared and shaken husband. Siimuut’s first cries flooded the icy residence somewhere in the tundra of Scoresby Land. Their baby had arrived without incident and his parents adored their son.

*~*~*~*

A small dogsled team topped a rise in the landscape and the man standing on the back of the sled whistled a shrill whistle, calling the team to a halt. The frozen tundra lay before him, spread out from horizon to horizon bordered by a lonely aqua-blue sky. He had seen the tracks of another hunter only yesterday, but he wasn’t looking for company and pushed on, further away from any chance of a meeting. An Arctic fox had broken out of one of his snares, escaping injured across the landscape but leaving an easy trail to be found. Arctic fox brought great interest from buyers of furs on European markets and at present, the pelt of an injured fox was worth the trouble of tracking. Hungry nanuq would be prowling, looking for an easy meal, too, and an injured fox would be a great appetiser; but the bear had no concern for the precious fur pelt, making it a necessity to find the fox before any nanuq did.

Bjarni Kleist grabbed his rifle from the sled and climbed down from his position at the back, then with a determined gait he strode for the dog team and bent down beside his lead dog and untethered her from the team. He rubbed her soft ears and then ruffled her fur, peering deeply into her intelligent husky eyes. In a sense the dog understood her master and knew what was coming. She enjoyed the hunt just as much as the man, and the two together were an efficient team. Desna was Bjarni’s favourite dog. As well as a treasured companion, she knew his every move and every mood, keeping him from succumbing to isolation madness. She was wise in the ways of the tundra, keenly aware of the wilderness’ changing temperament, with a sixth sense for hidden danger. As Bjarni gestured with his hand, Desna put her head down and began to track the injured fox, leaving the other dogs tethered to the sled and waiting for the two to return triumphant with their prize.

The tracks were becoming more defined as Desna closed in on their prey with Bjarni only a few steps behind her. Desna suddenly stopped and tasted the air, then a low growl—her warning—halted Bjarni in his stride. He knew the snarl meant a nanuq was near and he began to search for signs.

Then from close by, a rifle shot rang out followed by a chilling, high-pitched scream. As he searched the frozen landscape, his gaze settled on a woman trapped against an igloo by an attacking nanuq, leaving him wondering how he had missed such an obvious landmark. Without warning, Desna sprinted towards the desperate scene before Bjarni could restrain her. Seconds later, Bjarni ran into the tense standoff, aghast at a mother separated from her injured and distressed baby by a threatening nanuq.

He aimed his rifle at the bear but the gun jammed, leaving him no time to repair the fault. In a blur of commotion, Bjarni positioned himself in the path of the angry bear, shielding the child with his body while Desna lunged with snarling, bared teeth, biting down hard on the flailing bear.

A huge paw swiped a crunching blow at the attacking dog, breaking her grip with a yelp and sending her bouncing heavily into the snow. The nanuq then turned its attention towards Bjarni, intent on regaining the injured child as part of its meal before devouring the man and then possibly the woman, too.

The big bear reared up and was just about to pounce, when a rifle shot rang out from a distance away, causing the nanuq to fall backwards until it became still in the grips of death.

Seeing the bear’s destruction, the hysterical mother screamed, Siimuut! and then swooped in to comfort her injured child while another man, carrying his rifle, hurriedly entered the crazy scene and comforted the woman.

Bjarni searched the unmoving figure of his beloved Desna. The snow around her had turned crimson red and her body convulsed as Bjarni dropped to his knees and drew the dying dog into his embrace and wept long, broken sobs of despair, rocking on his knees in pain-filled anguish.

*~*~*~*

Chapter 4

PRESENT DAY

Akiak drove the team relentlessly, her constant barking encouraging the other dogs to run hard and keep pace with her, the safety of Katu’s outpost and a well-earned rest on her mind. She seemed to be aware that the old man’s stamina was waning. He required constant stops to straighten his stiffening frame, stepping down from the standing position at the rear of the sled. Akiak knew the changing landscape well from Scoresby Land to Jameson Land, crossing numerous mountain streams and skirting the shoreline of the Scoresby Sund in an effort to cut many tedious hours of granite-hopping and mountain climbing off the journey. If anything happened to him, the old man was confident Akiak could find her way to Katu without his guidance. The dog team had made this pilgrimage many times in the last twenty years and at the same time of year, so Akiak was familiar with the seasonal routine and had slipped easily into the position of head dog soon after learning to run as a pup. The lead position was in Akiak’s blood. She had inherited it from her mother, Desna, just over ten years ago following her untimely death, a death that affected the old man severely and he mourned her like a grieving spouse.

Finally, after eight hours of interrupted running, Katu’s outpost came into view. The familiar wood and tin structure stood like a jewel, unaffected by the passing of time in the treeless and undulating barren tundra landscape, bordering Jameson Land and Liverpool Land to the north. Ittoqqortoormiit, the largest civilised centre for the locality, was a further ten kilometres to the northeast, located on the mouth of the Sund; but the old man would never go any closer to it than Katu’s outpost for fear of being recognised. The small village of 500 people still had a wiry, older population who remembered the incident so many years ago all too well and feelings would still run deep.

A shrill whistle called the dogs to a halt, their tongues hanging tiredly from their mouths, sweating profusely in the one degree heat wave. They were eager to feed and rest and spend time released from their harnesses before returning the same route they had just traversed—tomorrow, but this time, pulling a heavily loaded sled. The old man searched the outpost perimeter and then glanced to the endless horizon. The tundra appeared like a grey, flat, empty desert without the presence of snow. The sun was low in the sky, painting pink streaks on the high wispy clouds. At this time of year the sun wouldn’t set completely, seemingly bouncing off the earth and beginning its relentless journey again, climbing high into the sky like a restless sentinel guarding the tundra and never allowing the darkness a chance to cast its troubles upon the wide open land.

Bjarni...! Bjarni Kleist, good to see you, old friend! a familiar voice called.

After so many months devoid of human company, the old man struggled to recognise his own name, but he attuned himself to Katu’s welcome immediately and it was like music to his ears as the trusted Inuit man with his round face and dark eyes engulfed him in a warm, Greenlandic hug.

Katu, it’s good to see you again, too, Bjarni replied, the sound of his own voice seeming raspy and strange to his own ears.

I have been expecting you for many days now. Release your dogs to the shelters; I have fresh seal meat already cut so they can eat and rest while we enjoy hot tea, boiling on the stove. I guess there’s no way I can convince you to stay a while longer than just overnight? Katu teased, but he knew his plea would cause angst for his esteemed visitor.

Bjarni gazed around, feeling the weight of his friend’s request and his troubled eyes displayed his answer.

Of course you can’t. You think I would learn. I ask the same question each year and each year I can see the conflict in your heart and the longing to be back in the tundra.

Bjarni was about to try and explain, but Katu held up his hand to silence the grief. Come inside and complete your business, then we can relax and talk about our year since we last saw each other.

Bjarni released the dogs from their harnesses and pointed towards the kennels. They bolted at top speed, excitedly running for the mountains of food Katu always put out for them. Akiak glanced at the old man as he rubbed her thick fur. Her dark, piercing husky pupils surrounded by aqua blue—deeply wise and concerned for her master—surrendered their stare when she heard his, Well done, and then he pointed to her kennel. Akiak, now convinced he was well and in Katu’s good hands, gave a contented bark and hurried toward the waiting reward.

I see Akiak still has the concern of a well admired woman, Katu’s eyes were dancing in jest.

She is a fine sled dog, Katu, and a finer companion than any woman; she comes from good stock, Bjarni replied, distant clouds of remorse hanging over the statement.

Yes, I see she has developed the same rich, royal black and white markings of her mother, Desna, Katu flinched, wanting to retrieve his overzealous comment when he realised what he had just said and wondered how the faux pas would affect Bjarni.

Desna was a one of a kind. Akiak is her mother’s daughter, Bjarni sighed emotionlessly, trying to leave the painful memories of Desna in the past. His sigh told Katu the conversation surrounding Desna was closed.

Well, let me have a look at your trappings. The soft, white fur of Arctic fox is in big demand this year and is bringing good prices on the international markets, Katu hoped his change of subject would make amends for his bungling into perilous territory that had inadvertently brought pain to his good friend.

Bjarni reached into the passenger well of the sled, pulling back the muskox pelt covering his wares and handed Katu a string of white furs, carefully skinned, washed and dried.

Katu’s eyes danced at the treasures in front of him and he laughed. You haven’t lost your talent, old friend. The store is yours. Help yourself to whatever you need; I will help you load it.

*~*~*~*

Bjarni and Katu reclined around the warmth of Katu’s stove in the middle of his kitchen and drank hot tea, an Inuit favourite. Bjarni had loaded the sled with all his incidental needs for the following year, conscious that the dogs had to pull it, and then carefully covered it for the night with the muskox pelt. Inquisitive, hungry bears wouldn’t be a problem this time of year. The eight-hour quest was becoming more difficult as he aged, and he would use whatever strength he could muster to help the dogs over the tougher sections of the route, but he could feel his health and his strength declining and his reliance on Akiak increasing. The prospect of dying alone in the tundra didn’t bring him comfort, but the thought of dying in civilisation didn’t, either. One step at a time, he would often remind himself.

Katu’s cheerful voice broke into his thoughts. So, what adventures has the depths of Scoresby Land brought to you this past year, Bjarni?

Bjarni sighed and smiled. It is getting harder to trap good Arctic fox these days, or maybe I’m just getting older and the foxes are outfoxing me.

Katu’s expression took on a concerned air. It worries me that you are getting older, my friend; being always alone in the wilderness may be not so good for an aging man. I could use some help around here if you would consider a place to live out your remaining years.

Bjarni held Katu’s gaze for a long moment, until Katu broke the tension with a loud guffaw. I can see you would no sooner give up the wilderness than take a wife.

Bjarni joined his good natured laughter before changing the subject. He’s back, Katu, Bjarni’s nervous confession was almost a whisper.

The sudden segue stopped Katu in mid-guffaw, wondering whether he understood. Who’s back?

"Ataneq Nanuq," Bjarni stared down at the floor as he offered the latest piece of information.

The concern in Katu’s voice was immediate. "You have seen this King Polar Bear again? The one that first started your troubles?"

Bjarni lifted his head and faced his friend, his eyes searching Katu’s, looking for the mocking ridicule that had so often accompanied his statements of King Polar Bears to other people in times past. He felt relief when all he saw was kindness and concern. About two hours from my hut, I found a dead male nanuq on the trek. He was huge. He had to be three metres tall and weighing around 700 kilos.

Katu whistled. That is a big nanuq, Bjarni. I have never seen such a creature.

He was huge alright, but whatever killed him did it with a singular violent force. The tracks spoke of an unmatched fight; then I found a paw print in a mud puddle next to the dead nanuq. The print was almost fifty millimetres bigger than the dead bear’s.

A look of horror crossed Katu’s face. Are you sure? The villagers of Ittoqqortoormiit didn’t believe your story all those years ago. It possibly wouldn’t be a good thing to try and revive it now.

Katu’s response told Bjarni he knew of his history even if he hadn’t acknowledged it in the past. A long silence pervaded the kitchen as both men contemplated the meaning of this new information.

Katu broke the silence again, a worried frown on his face, About three months ago, I had a visit from a man asking questions about the whereabouts of a Dan Gurst.

Bjarni flinched as if he had been stung. He hadn’t heard that name for over fifty years. What did he want and what did you tell him? Bjarni’s troubled face reddened.

*~*~*~*

Chapter 5

Mr Reece. REECE...?! What did I just say?

S..sorry, sir, I..I don’t know.

If you’d concentrate on what is happening in this classroom and engage with your classmates instead of daydreaming, you might not be failing this subject and wasting this school’s valuable resources! Get your books and get out of my classroom!

I..I will listen, sir. Please, I can’t get in trouble again; my father will kill me.

GET OUT, REECE!

Jaimon Reece’s grey eyes filled with tears as he gathered his books and forced them through the broken zipper of his school carrybag, a hand-me-down from his sister. He pushed the plastic chair back from his desk with the back of his knees, gathered his belongings and stood to leave. He could feel the eyes of everyone in the room staring at him, but he didn’t dare look up. His small shoulders slumped forward as he dragged the oversized bag onto his back and headed for the classroom door. The room was deathly silent. Tension hung in the air and floated down upon the shocked faces trying to remain small and insignificant lest Simons’ ire should find a reason to single them out and cut them down, also. No one liked Jaimon, but the remaining thirteen year olds could feel his embarrassment, grateful Simons wasn’t picking on them.

Simons gazed around at the stress radiating from the young faces and smiled inwardly. Total obedience through sudden and shocking fear—a trusted teaching aid that never failed.

Jaimon found himself banished and standing unprotected in the long, empty corridor, his stomach full of butterflies, feeling nauseous. He could still hear Mr Simons’ voice bellowing and echoing down the hall as he taught. From end to end it was deserted, while his lone figure was easily discernable in the vast brick and concrete emptiness, making him a target for the authorities to recognise and pick off. He was frightened of being caught out of class and the inevitable questions that would lead to his father finding out he was failing another subject. An image of the angry man crossed his mind and the memory of the thick leather strap stinging his naked hind made him wince. The last encounter had painted heavy welts on his buttock, which in moments had developed into dark purple bruises that had taken weeks to heal. Sitting painfully and awkwardly in classes, nursing his injuries, only drew ridicule from other students while his small frame and awkward looks made him a game and a prize to the normal kids, and their cruel taunts settled him into a spectator in his own life, always watching alone from the sidelines as other kids interacted into a brotherhood of conformity.

Being different and standing out came at a horrible price.

He swallowed, dried