Chapter 1
Many say that the mountains sing to you in the winter. The tinkling of the ice in the trees, the crunch of snow beneath your boots, and the howls of the wind at night. Tulukaruk had never heard them sing. She was still young, old enough to hunt and shoot, but not yet to hear the mountains and their songs.
They had been in the forest for a week already, close to the mountain's beginning slope, and far from their home, but they had finally found a sizable game trail. Tulukaruk took the lead, her rifle firm against her left shoulder, with her father and brother a few steps behind her. A few meters ahead, a small cluster of elk were hard at work, taking down a small section of bushes that had survived the first snowfalls.
Tulukaruk came to a slow stop. This was not her first hunt, she knew how to be a shadow to the forest creatures. A small tap on the handle of her rifle informed the other members of her party to the animals ahead. They moved slowly, careful to avoid the bushes and brambles hanging around them, before shouldering their own rifles.
It was a small group of elk in front of them, a bull and 3 females, but even if they took down 2 of the elk it would feed them for months. Three separate shots rang out, the higher pitch of Tulukaruk and Taqukaq's rifles melding together across the mountain peaks.
The bull rushed off, its females dead or dying. Tulukaruk raced after the bull, knowing that if she took it down, they would never have to hunt again until the next winter. Her father and brother rushed to the females, killed the ones that were still alive, and began to bind them together for easier transport.
Only a few minutes had passed since Tulukaruk had given chase, brambles catching on her jacket's hood, tearing it away from her head, and leaving some shallow cuts along her brow. The pain was nothing, as she had had worse before. As she broke through a thick clump of bushes and slid under an old fallen log, she stumbled to a stop.
There was blood everywhere. It coated the nearby trunks, stained the snow around her feet, and flowed in uneven lines to pool in the indents left behind. Tufts of fur and hide clung to brambles along the bushes edges. One of the bulls horns had been snapped off and stuck into a gnarled trunk of a pine.
Tulukaruk could only gaze in shock at the scene in front of her. Surely, if something had attacked the bull, she would have heard it at least. There was not even an ounce of meat left behind from where a predator would have torn into the flesh of the elk.
A snap and rustle of the bushes behind her had her rifle aimed and ready to fire at whatever would come for her. But it was only Father and Taqukaq, and as they gazed upon the scene she stood in, they could only join in her silence and shock.
"A bear most likely, a pack of wolves would not be this vicious." Father stated. He had moved towards me, an elk slipped across his back, some of its blood dripping onto the hunting jerkin he wore over his jacket.
Taqukaq had the other 2 balanced on a stick between his shoulders. He looked as skeptical as I felt with Father's assessment.
"I would have heard if it was either. I do not know what animal could do something as strange as this. It would have no meat left to eat with all the blood it has spilled from the bull."
Father had a troubled look on his face after I said this. And as he walked around the small clearing, the expression seemed to darken with every step he took.
"Take your elk, we must make our way back to camp before the night." And with that, her father departed from the clearing, Taqukaq handing one of the elk out to Tulukaruk, before they both began to walk after their father.
In the trees above, the emaciated frame of a creature casts a shadow across the clearing below. The limbs were unproportioned to its body; long and thin, with bent fingers and cracked nails. Its skin as pale as the snow, the bones easily visible, pieces of flesh and skin missing, and its mouth, dripped with gore and blood, a gaping hole of rotten and broken fangs.
Its eyes however, were the worst of it. Or perhaps, they would be, if it had eyes. The skin was blackened and charred where the eyes would be, the bleached white bones stark against it. Deep chasms ran into its skull, but it seemed to not make a difference.
The creature followed the movement of the hunting party, its head tilted to one side, its curved ears twitching with every sound.
Break
Night had fallen quickly, most of the day already gone as we had followed the game trail. Father had built a large fire for the night, larger than he had ever built before. He had passed large branches to us, lighting them and stationing them around our tents and the edge of our camp. They would burn for hours.
After the fires had been lit and stationed, we skinned and chopped one of the elks, burying the other 2 deep in the snow to keep them fresh. The pieces we had begun to roast filled the area with a delicious aroma, and as Father stoked the fire, and turned the meat, I asked him to tell us of the Old Crow and Wise Hunter. Takuqaq signed in annoyance.
"A new tale, please Father. We have heard of the Old Crow plenty of times already." I merely glared at him.
Father smiled at us, and as he continued to stoke the fire, he began the tale. "The story of the Mahaha is one as old as our people. Your many times great-grandfather, Tulukaruk, a wise and prodigious hunter encountered one during his many long hunts. The Mahaha is a terrifying creature, as mad as any, and its smile seems to tear its face in half."
Father rotated the meat again, allowing a steady crust to appear upon the venison, and continued the story.
"The creature's nails are as long as icicles, and as sharp as the best hunting knives. However, the Mahaha does not tear into its victims, it merely tickles the unfortunate soul to death. For if you ever find a body frozen out in the wastes of ice floating near our home, or the dense forest we find ourselves in, with a smile as mad as the Mahaha's, you will know it is close.
"When Tulukaruk, the Old Crow, set out on his hunt, and came across this creature, he never once fled from it. He stood firm, and never wavered. When the creature took his arm, he took its eyes. He fought tooth and nail with the Mahaha, but his knife made no cuts, and his arrows made no indentation upon the creature.
"Tulukaruk spent years in the forest, hunting and being hunted by the Mahaha, for neither would submit to death unless it was at the hand of the other. As the time passed, Tulukaruk grew crafty, learning the most of his enemy, and its weaknesses. He spent every winter in that wood, setting traps and teaching his children about the creature."
Father passed the venison to Takuqaq, and then to me, and as we tore into it, he continued his tale, pausing only a few times to eat his own dinner.
"He learned that fire was its weakness. For a being that survives even the worst winters, it never falters or slows. Upon the final meeting between the two, the Old Crow built the largest fire he could. It was said to have burned for days and the smoke could be seen for leagues.
As the Old Crow stood, torch in one arm, illuminating his other stump of an arm, the Mahaha came to him. It was a quick creature, faster than any man could follow, but Tulukaruk had spent years with the creature, for he knew it intimately.
"The torch flew from his hand, catching the creature in the eye, and as it fell to the ground, cackling and thrashing, Tulukaruk lit his second torch and plunged it into the second eye of the Mahaha. It thrashed for only a moment longer, enough time to swipe its razor claws into the Old Crow's side, spilling his blood across the Mahaha's body. But the Old Crow did not die, for he conquered his enemy, and purged its evil from his home."
Father ended the tale there as he always had, but it seemed he had more to say this time. "Beware the Mahaha my little Crow, for it wishes to feast on the blood it was robbed off all those years ago. And you my fierce bear," and he turned to Takuqaq, "The Mahaha will always fear the fire, and the blood of our family. It has been said that we are the protectors of this forest, for if a Mahaha ever appears again, we must cleanse it from our world."
We stared at him for some time. Neither of us knew what to say. I had always enjoyed this tale, since I was named after the Old Crow, Mother choosing it for me after hearing this tale herself. She had wished that I would not bear the same burden that he had all those years ago.
"Sleep now, I will keep watching for a little while. I will wake one of you soon to relieve me."
And with that, he stood, and began walking the border of our camp, lighting more piles of branches and sticks we had been storing in one of our tents to keep dry from the snow, while Takuqaq and I snuggled into our separate tents, and prepared for the long day we had tomorrow.
Finally, we would be heading back home.