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Chapter 14 Search Party Heads Out

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Perri usually considered himself to be the picture of health and so he had not expected to end up in the healer’s hut on a day of such importance to him.  Fern took one look at him and asked him if he’d been picking buttercups.  Of course he hadn’t and told her so.  He had no time for such frivolities on the day the search party was to head out; him included, he was proud to say. The morning dawned with the rest of the search party meeting at the Clan Lodge with the Clan Elders. The village was socked in with a heavy, dense fog.  Perri, finally released by Fern as being capable, arrived after all the others, scratching as if he’d been attacked by an army of mosquitos.  He was decorated with large patches of red blistered skin all over his hands and face.  Some greasy ointment that smelt strongly of fish was splotched all over his affected areas. “What happened to you?” asked Crusta, scanning at Perri’s face, while rearing back in case it was contagious.

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“I dunno. Woke up lookin’ like this.  Too much mead last night” said Perri, holding his head with a painful grimace on his face.  His head was hosting a forest full of hungry woodpeckers. ”I went to see Fern this morning and she gave me a salve and said I’m cleared to go.  Should disappear in a day or two if I leave it alone.” He held his medicine wrapped in a skunk cabbage leaf for all to see.

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Raven shook his head, crow’s feet formed firmly on from his eyes from painting his face with a habitual frown. He wondered what that silly mouse of a woman had done to her husband. She must have a brain the size of a dried berry rattling around inside her head. She’d asked him last night to make Perri stay home; kick him off the search party.  He didn’t know why.  She didn’t seem to care for her husband all that much.  She must have taken things into her own hands because you don’t get a rash like that without a little help. Silly, malicious woman.

Columbine looked inquiringly at Ocean, his nod more powerful than words. She cleared her throat, scanning the search party, and then the Elders present. “We have a new development.  Seems that four days ago, a Skeena Clan fisherman found Cranberry’s’ wedding amulet on a sandbar near the mouth of the Skeena.  Now, they weren’t supposed to be out that far, but that’s where it was found.  Since it’s carved from rock, it’s unlikely that it drifted very far.  So we may be looking at a new area.”

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Captain Razor looked up at the fog, exchanged glances with Raven and then spoke.  “Raven and I know that area.  Once this fog lifts I could take out my ship with a few of the fellas. Doug’s taking out his seagull.  Any chance you could take out your bird Raven?  Got the best eyesight.”

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Raven had a calculating expression in his cold rimmed eyes.  He had hoped for a little bit of groveling but he respected Razor and wasn’t about to make a fellow Captain look like a fool. “Yeah.” He nodded stoically. “I’ll need to go home and get his harness, but I could do it.  Doug and I could fly over the outer sandbars and islands, and you fellows could take the high tide rush into the river and start your search there further in.  Island by island, sandbar by sandbar until we meet.  They’ll have a fire going if they made it, so we can look for smoke, although it may be hard to see in this fog.  Now there’s a chance they made it to shore; we’ll hope our northern shore, so maybe Crusta, being a tracker could take Perri and start from here going east by shore. Are Roots and Baneberry enough crew for you Razor?” He looked at him, mutual respect exchanged, Captain to Captain.

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Razor held his chin and strong jaw in his hand, his habitual frown had carved its way into his cheeks and forehead. He was a short, burly fellow, all muscle and gristle. He assessed his situation with his usual sharp efficiency.  Most would not be from his regular crew. “I may pick up another one or two of my guys, but that should do it” he said as he nodded dispassionately to Raven.  “By then the sky should be clear”

“OK then” said Columbine clapped her hands with finality. Sounds like we’ve got a good plan.  Is everyone agreed?”  She slid her gaze across the room and saw no dissenters. “Soon as you gear up, we’ll see you off!

Mus’s thoughts

Back in her hut Mus simmered with rage, her heart hammering, her hands unsteady.  She’d got the kids to bed early last night.  Had to dose them a bit to do it but it’d worked.  Then she had Perri to herself.  Giving Perri her most endearing smile, she, had given him a good dose of mead, reminding him he wouldn’t be seeing her for a while out in the bush and oh, how she would miss him.  He’d happily co-operated, enjoying her rare pleasant mood and their time alone. They’d shared what passed for a pleasurable evening in their hut.  When the dosed mead had hit him he’d fallen asleep like a rock.  Then she’d rubbed the buttercup roots and leaves all over his face, arms and hands, using some skunk cabbage leaves so she didn’t get it on herself. Next she burned the evidence.  It had worked. In fact, she was a little worried about just how well it had worked.  He woke up with a sore head from the mead and was red and blistered as a basket of rosehips.  She’s cooed over him, trying to get him back to bed, but he’d insisted he was going anyway.  She’d made him see Fern first but that damn woman had cleared him for action.  Her plan had failed. She’d have to come up with something else. Hmm….  Her devious mind began working out her options.

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The Search Begins

The clinging fog had finally lifted by the time Raven and his well-trained bird Blacky were ready to take off. Raven felt that familiar tingle of anticipation and a little bit of fear.  Lying flat against the ravens back, he pulled on the harness and up they went; his eyes like slits to block out the wind. Raven could see the village slowly shrinking below him, the waving folk looking more like ants than clan folk. He shifted his weight to the right and his raven headed west, out to sea, past the porpoise rich inlet, past the islands. It was glorious!  He felt omnipotent. His senses on full alert he could feel the flow of blood pumping through his veins. The salty wind rippled through his hair and his cloak filled with air as they coasted with the thermals. The folk back home would never hear it from him, but he lived for these moments. He leaned forward and Blacky swooped lower, giving Raven a better chance at seeing a small temporary camp. They patiently flew from island to island, sandbar to sandbar, looking for any sign of the lost traders.  His eyes were watering from the wind.  Crow’s feet grew from the corner of his eyes from the constant squinting.  He shifted his weight, urging his raven down to an island for a rest, the ground reaching out for them.  Small waves pulsed against the sandy shore with a sound like muted laughter.  Small waves pulsed against the sandy shore with a sound like muted laughter.

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Captain Razor had a crew of four as he launched his ship, the Razor’s Edge.  It was a rising tide as they dragged the ship out and rowed out of the harbour.  Looking up and they saw Raven with his bird, slicing through the intensely blue sky, the morning fog having burned off and they waved their paddles as he soared above them.  They went through the pass to the forested islands beyond the mouth of the Skeena and methodically navigating around each of the outer spruce, hemlock and cedar treed islands, resting from time to time.  No sign of any folk there; no fires, no camps.  Exhausted from the days’ work they headed back to the harbour and pulled up the Razors’ Edge.

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Perri and Crista, searching the southern shore of the Skeena by foot had perhaps the most grueling task.  When the tide was up, they struggled through heavy bush, kicking, punching and elbowing their way through the virgin bush growing far over their heads. Crusta being a tracker was in the lead and as he pushed his way through the bush the branches whipped back on poor red blistered Perri who was following too close. The air smelt of rotting leaves, cedar with a tang of salt; and when the wind shifted, of eulachon grease from Perri’s salve. They were looking for the easiest route without straying too far from shore.

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 At low tide they could at least walk amongst the exposed rocks and tide pools.  But this held its’ own dangers as they slipped on green algae as slippery as a potters clay slip.  Poor wretched Perri, already suffering from his red blistered skin that he’d been scratching like a wolf full of fleas, stumbled into a deep rocky tide pool concealed by some washed up kelp. Not only did his head meet rock leaving a bloody contusion on the back of his head in it’s wake; but when the salt water hit his blistered skin, he had to hold back a scream of agony. He looked puffy, miserable and ravaged by the elements.  Crusta stopped and took poor Perri in hand.  He had him sit down and removed his socks, then began peeling off his sodden leather boots.  Crusta helped to dry him off as best as he could and Perri apllied more of the salve and changed into dry footwear.  Then they trod on, Perri unsteady on his feet; they stumbled on through the endless sea of trees.  Perri was not having a very good day.  When the tide reached its zenith they decided it was time to set up camp for the night and they trod onward, looking for a small opening in which to set up.

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Doug and Gus had started their search a little later than the others. Gus needed his second breakfast, as was only reasonable.  Even on takeoff Doug noticed Gus’ cheeks and gullet were full ‘just in case’ he got hungry during the flight.  His seagull tended to stay closer to the ground, which suited Doug just fine.  While Raven and Blacky searched the outer islands, Doug and Gus soared over the sandbars at the mouth of the Skeena.  The water was lower this year than most, which made for more sandbars, the river broke into a myriad of streams, some running faster than others.  Now and then Gus would get distracted by a school of herring and dive down suddenly, Doug dizzily hanging on for dear life, not trusting his harness at this extreme angle.  When Doug’s’ feet touched the ground Gus very nicely regurgitated some of his partly digested catch offering it to Doug for his lunch. They were partners after all. Gus seemed hurt when Doug did not partake and turned away.  But a gull being a gull, he soon turned back and wolfed up his offering into his yellow beak, cheeks and gullet ‘just in case.'

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The training that had gone into flying Gus was perhaps a little more relaxed than that which Raven had inflicted upon his bird.  This was because they were two very different men with two very different birds.  Where Raven suffered no fools, Doug could usually see the other fellas’ point of view and empathized.  Where the raven lived a long life and was noted as the most intelligent bird by many, Gus the seagull tended to think mostly about Gus.  His partner Doug was a nice guy, sure, but a gull had to eat. All in all, Gus felt he had broken Doug down to the proper standards owed a gull.  And so the two aerial teams had very different styles of searching, and very different results.  Where Raven was able to cover many islands, efficiently, with short rests for both he and Blacky, Doug spent more time with Gus on the ground or sea, munching on yet another irresistible tasty treat.

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And so, by days end, the Razor’s Edge was back on shore, as were Raven and Doug with their birds.  Only the ground search party had had to rough it for the night.  In their camp Crusta hummed a happy tune while preparing dinner, while Perri moaned in misery, actually missing Mus. The searchers back at home base met in the Lodge to compare notes, and to set up tomorrows’ schedule.

 

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