Ch 37 - Bloody Snow

Another day was coming to an end and there was

nothing but a thick layer of snow under his feet. He had

never known any life other than this one; he had known

no entertainment, no parties, and no civilization other

than the Dene, his closest neighbors. Aputik was now 28,

but what had he done in those nearly three decades? The

sight in front of him — a herd grazing on what little

grass the snow had not devoured — was all he had. His

parents greatly valued his service, which had kept him

there ever since. After all, in a community of shepherds,

high regard is held for those who still have the vitality to

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lead their flocks to the farthest plains in search of new

grass. But in his heart, he longed for more. True, he had

never been introduced to the pleasures of modern

civilization, but he had heard enough. Andri, the late

leader's son, had managed to leave the damned place and

live with more pomp and luxury. And now, every time he

returned to the community, he told in detail every portion

of life in America, and Aputik had to pretend not to be

envious of the man. But he would not be the only one,

that was for sure. How had a man of little education like

Bergeron managed to succeed in the competitive urban

world?

At that moment, one of the deer raised its head,

attentive to its surroundings. Loudly, it warned the entire

herd, getting them into formation and leading them to

run away from the scene.

— What the hell are these animals doing now?

— Aputik said to himself. Where was he again? Ah, yes,

Bergeron. The man was able to do calculations with

incredible speed, true, but he didn't use this ability in his

professional life. He said he operated at a nuclear base in

Minnesota, which sounded terribly boring and did not

require the slightest mathematical knowledge. Nor was

he smart enough to take advantage of what was made

available around him. All the parties he described were

things that had happened to others, never to himself.

When Aputik left this place, things would be different!

The herd of caribou was already moving as one

being across the plain, reaching the other side of the

great expanse while the shepherd was still thinking in his

daze.

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— More of that now! — he complained.

Gathering those animals again would be exhausting and

pointless work, and he was the only one left to do it.

A roar echoed across the plain just then. Aputik

raised his eyes, trying to see what kind of animal would

sound like that. On the other side, near the tree line, a

beast advanced against the herd that was running

towards it. The predator was bipedal, apparently covered

in fur and as black as charred wood. A small horn on its

muzzle completed its macabre appearance. Surprising

the male leading the pack, it attacked him, running

towards him with its jaws already open. The leader, as

well as the herd of females and young that followed him,

ran in a tight curve around the extension, being closely

followed by the ferocious creature. With its long

reptilian legs, the monster reached the last members of

the flock, a mass of young females and fawns. Bringing

his huge fangs down, he cut in an adult deer's way,

slaughtering it almost instantly. From the left, in the

direction the rest of the pack was heading, two more

animals emerged from the woods surrounding the plain,

attacking the herd violently. Females and young were cut

to pieces, decimated by the devastating surprise attack.

Still in his position, Aputik remained paralyzed,

almost in shock. What were those beasts that butchered

the herd in his care? He had never seen these creatures;

he had only heard some gruesome stories about the

Partridge Creek beast from his elders, but he always

thought they were stupid inventions, just like everything

else they said. The shepherd recognized that behavior

too — he had seen wolves hunting the same way, scaring

their prey and leading it to an appropriate place where it

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would be massacred easily. There was something

strange, though. The herd really had been directed to be

killed, but there was nothing to scare them off initially,

was there? If that was the case, it would have to be...

Aputik now realized what was about to happen.

The caribou had fled in the opposite direction from his,

which meant only one thing. The predator that had

scared them away was close by. Right behind him.

He turned slowly, fearing he was right. A few

yards from his back was the other edge of the woods. A

row of leafless trees, with dark, dormant trunks, was the

perfect camouflage. Between them, hidden in the

shadows, a figure watched him with fixed eyes. Its jaw

was still closed, but its fangs were so long that the sharp

tips were visible. Getting up cautiously, the shepherd

tried to formulate a plan. The woods would give him no

room for mobility. The plain was a bloodbath, but it still

seemed the best choice. The monster remained static,

watching his gestures. Any other animal would fear the

sight of a standing human being, and even predators

would hesitate before attacking, but not this one. With

decisive steps, the creature left the protection of the

trees, standing a few meters away from the man.

Aputik's heart was trembling and his breath was uneven,

burning his lungs. In front of him, the animal stood two

and a half meters tall, far exceeding his height. Someone

had to make the next move. And it would be him.

Turning his back on the animal, the shepherd

threw away the elk skin that protected him from the cold

in an attempt to run more lightly. Behind him, the roar of

the creature could already be heard, which in a few

moments covered the distance between the two. There

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was not much protection in this area; the nearest was

miles away, in a mining camp. Now reaching the open

plain, he kept running without looking back and

avoiding the area to his left, yards away, where the other

predators were still devouring what was left of his herd.

Nothing mattered anymore — his parents didn't matter

anymore. All he could think about now was being faster

than the death that was following him closely. The tree

line was the next place with some safety. Here too he

would have no mobility, but even less would the creature

have. Aputik could still hear the roar, now closer and

more intense. He was not faster than a caribou, and he

knew it. His instinct had commanded him to run, but his

mind was rational enough to know how stupid that was.

His plans went through his mind one last time before the

sharp daggers descended upon his body, finally ridding

him of the place he hated so much.

⬫⬫⬫

— Thank you for seeing us, Chief.

The figure in front of us did not convey the

common stereotype of an Indian chief at all. This man

had neatly trimmed hair, as well as a black blazer with

gold buttons, like what a captain usually wears. Covering

his view, a wide-brimmed hat painted a picture even

more different than what prejudice would expect to find.

The attire was not traditional at all, but rather a way to

gain respect from outsiders, especially descendants of

conquerors, who came to the tribe.

— What have you come to do in Dene territory?

— asked Jimmy Bruneau's baritone voice. Although

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deep, his voice did not seem to be made for this tone, nor

was it often used for it. His timbre, as well as his

clothing and the warriors around him, were only a facade

that concealed his good heart, protecting him from

outside threats. Feeling entitled to answer, Keene

stepped forward:

— We came to ask you about the beast...

— Quiet! — ordered the chief.

— We've come to ask you about the beast from

Partridge Creek, — Bergeron explained.

— But that's what I said, — Keene whispered

angrily, to which I could only reply with a comforting

pat.

— Well, then. You already know everything there

is to know, — Bruneau told Andri. — What do you

really want?

— The help of your men, — Bergeron replied,

embarrassed.

— I heard that your animals have been attacked.

But it's not wise to risk the lives of brave warriors to

protect caribou. Do you think you are the only one who

has the right to consume their meat? Learn to share with

nature.

— But... these creatures threaten human lives

too!

— Then move your herd out of the meadow.

There are many predators in the forest; several have

already taken the lives of our friends and relatives. Do

you think I should exterminate every wolf and bear in

the territory? Andri, go back to your village and don't

defy nature.

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Bergeron lowered his eyes, deeply disappointed.

He seemed to know the other face of Bruneau, the one he

would not show today, as foreigners were present. Still,

his confidence was not rewarded.

Leaving the great chief's hut, we had to cross

once again the row of houses whose inhabitants kept

staring at us in silence. This was our only hope, and

now... now we had nothing.

— What do you intend to do, then? — Lucy

asked our guide.

— Without the numerical advantage, all I have

left is to use heavy weaponry.

— How about... doing what the Chief said?

— And leave the whole village at risk?

— Well, it seems to me that the tribe is closer to

the wilderness than your village and they don't even care

about that.

— They could still reach us anyway. And there

are few young people in my village; most have left for

America. No, I must act to protect the elders.

— Bruneau is right, — Keene said in a bitter

tone. — You should share your herd. Let the animal take

a few. What harm can it do?

— There is enough food in the woods for these

beings, Doctor. There is no need for them to take from us

what we struggle to have.

— No, Mr. Bergeron. There is no longer enough.

— Without elaborating any further, Jacob moved on

ahead of our group to the next base we would pass by.

Between us and the next location was a meander

of small rivers and shallows, which would finally lead us

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to a digging base known as Datsá, where a coal mine had

been opened.

The streams were passable via short crossing

points, where someone had bothered to build one.

Forgotten and remote, the Partridge had not won this

favor because it belonged to Andri's village, who, as

already seen, did not mind crossing its icy waters. On the

contrary, they considered body cooling as a form of

physical strengthening, something that could not be

disputed at the sight of their children. Healthier than any

youngster with health insurance, they were full of energy

and willingness.

— For heaven's sake, let us stop for a moment,

— Keene said to my right, reminding me how different

from those children he was.

Looking disapprovingly at the exhausted figure

of the biomedical doctor, Bergeron commented:

— Aren't you a little out of shape for these

adventures?

— Out of shape? How dare you! I haven't lived

half a century to hear that I'm dying!

— Well, live another half century and you won't

have to hear it again. Let's get going! There is a base

nearby where we can supply ourselves. There is no

building to rest in, but there is plenty of food and milk.

— Milk? — Lucy repeated.

— Yes, in the clearing where our shepherd leads

his flock. Aputik has enough to share.

— Then walk faster! — Jacob exclaimed. — I

need a mug of milk and some nettle tea now!

In a renewed mood, he moved ahead of us once

again.

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Our journey now took us into an enclosed forest,

which would finally open out onto the plain where we

would meet the shepherd. Before that, though, there

were a few miles of brushwood, and the sun was already

setting on the horizon.

The snow was still solid, fortunately, which

prevented us from sinking into two meters of soft ice.

Had we come in summer, the expedition would have

been impossible. Now, before darkness completely

enveloped the fir forest, I used its pine cones and the

bark of the birch trees to start a flame with my flint,

feeding it the oleaceous bark until it was strong enough

to be fed sticks and finally firewood. The area Bergeron

had chosen for our camp was an open one between the

trees, where more logs were used to create a dry lining,

on which the fire now rested.

The night was already settling over us and the

only visible light was that of my campfire. The orange

flames served to heat the pieces of dried meat we carried

in our packs, melting its fat before we ate them. Already

satisfied, Bergeron seemed to become poetic:

— What would you do...in case of an attack? —

he asked in a heavy voice.

— I'd climb a tree, — Lucy replied, knowing

that I would say the same if I were in the mood to speak.

— Wrong. An animal is no more irrational than

you are. They may not speak your language, but they

understand what you are saying.

— But that makes a lot of sense! — sneered

Jacob. — You should write a scientific paper about it.

— You despise ancient knowledge because you

have never depended on it. The warriors who first

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learned this technique were in trouble and only then

imagined doing it. I hope you never need to use such

knowledge.

— Talking to animals? It would be more rational

to let it devour you. It's faster.

— And you'd say that a quick death is merciful?

— Lucy asked. Keene looked at her through his glasses

before answering:

— Any death is merciful, as long as it is applied

to humans. There is nothing else our species deserves. —

A long silence passed as the two stared into each other's

eyes, without any context or reason.

— Well, — Bergeron said, breaking the

sepulchral silence, — I'm gonna zip it. I don't want to

deserve your judgment, Doctor.

Taking a strong rope tie from his backpack, he

climbed up the nearest birch tree, rising about five

meters before tying himself to the branches around him.

The three of us also had the equipment, choosing our

own trees around the campfire. The fire would be left

burning, as it is wise to do in an open area, so that

animals avoid it and there is no unnecessary contact. The

branches I was leaning on now were rough enough to

damage my thick double felt coat, but fortunately, they

would not hurt me tonight.

Feeling that the rope was already keeping me

stable, I leaned my back on the trunk, waiting to hear my

breathing slow down and the moonlight dim. Soon, I

would be unconscious. The cold wind whipped that

night, but it would do no harm except to our exposed

faces. The landscape was remarkably placid.

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When I woke up once more, I heard a nearby

roar, like an impatient bear. The sound echoed in the

back of my mind, never fully waking me up, but still

keeping me alert. Without understanding what I was

seeing, I opened my eyelids just enough to see a huge

black shadow sniffing the ashes of the campfire. The

animal sensed that we were still close, but could not

identify where. With a little more effort, though, it

pointed its snout at the source of the smell, raising its

head until it looked at me and roared one last time before

attacking.

⬫⬫⬫

The ferry lazily drifted along the Yukon River, in

no hurry or reason to rush. On his platform, however,

Frost had more than one reason to feel anxiety. Not only

was it vital that he arrive as quickly as possible, but he

had also chosen the slowest vehicle for the job, realizing

the fact only after boarding. — What did you expect

from a catamaran? — asked a lady accompanying him.

Well, certainly she with her chinchilla fur coat had

enough to jump into any adventure that came her way,

but this is not a luxury that a man like him could afford,

no — he represented the respect and order cherished by

the University of Athlios!

...

Who was he kidding with this? His building was

controlled by the iron fists of Jacob Keene, and there

was nothing he could do about it. That is, nothing

without reprisals. At least now he was approaching the

so-called target village, where Bergeron was supposed to

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meet his relatives before they left. This adventure had

been his first without any outside help and, let's admit it,

Frederick was doing pretty well. It was good for his

self-esteem to see that his ability to act was not affected

by his physique. In fact, he was now beginning to

understand that his limitation existed only in his mind.

With a polite farewell, he said goodbye to his

traveling companion, who with great effort allowed him

to leave. Then, descending the staircase leading to solid

ground, he landed at last on the inhospitable Partridge

Creek.

— Grim, — Frost thought to himself. The place

was bleak and icy as only Athlios could be. To the north,

the village would be located within a depression in the

ground, as Bergeron had informed him, hiding its people

from the dangers outside. That was his target, but it

would take him some time to cross the stream. With a

sigh of dismay, he began to skirt the white banks of the

Partridge.

⬫⬫⬫

The rays of dawn illuminated our camp, waking

me at last. With my vision still blurred, what was left of

our campfire now looked like a simple grey patch in the

snow. Why were the ashes scattered? I didn't remember

dismantling the structure of the campfire before I went to

sleep. Yes, I am sure I planned to leave it lit to scare off

the wild animals.

Then the image of the night before came back to

me. A shadowy form had been there and spotted us in

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the trunks of the birch trees. My heart raced

remembering the scene. Now I was wide awake.

When I looked around the ashes, there was no

sign of the beast's presence except for a few vaguely

ash-filled footprints. A breeze blew lightly over the icy

earth and a distant howl, carried by the wind, reminded

me why we were there. We were. Of course, Lucy! I

lifted my frown to look at my traveling companions and

found them already awake, except for Keene who

remained asleep, his head hanging to one side.

— Did you ... see what happened here? — I

asked loud enough for them to hear me on their

respective branches.

— We were trying to wake you up a few minutes

ago to ask you the same question, — Bergeron answered.

— And you saw it too, didn't you? — Lucy

asked. — Your eyes were open.

— But I wasn't conscious. What happened next?

— Well, you are the expert on dinosaurs, but I

can tell you that this is not the best jumper among them.

I saw him circle each tree, roaring as if annoyed that he

could not reach us, and then march back into the woods.

— We have to get to Aputik as soon as possible,

— said Andri. — If you want a chance to study the

species before ... — he paused to make sure Keene was

still asleep, — Before I have to exterminate it, we should

leave immediately. You two, keep an eye out for any

sounds or shadows you notice in the vicinity. I'll go

down first.

Swiveling around on our makeshift bases, Lucy

and I scanned for any sign of danger as Bergeron untied

himself and began the treacherous journey to the ground.

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Cautiously, he used his legs to wrap around the trunk,

ensuring a slow and silent descent. Finally, he set his feet

on the ground, without leaping, and took Lucy's place in

surveying the surroundings. Now she descended,

followed by me, until only the biomedical doctor was

attached to his branch.

— Are you sure we can't leave him here? —

Bergeron asked with a wry smile.

— It's tempting, — Lucy agreed with a

controlled laugh, leaving it up to me to wake Jacob.

Once more, I climbed up the birch tree on which he was

resting until I could touch his foot. With a light slap,

which I hoped I wouldn't have to increase in force, I

called out to the doctor, who quickly opened his eyes and

looked down, meeting my sign to remain silent. I helped

him free himself from the ropes, repeating the signal to

restrain his complaints, and we descended again, the four

of us now standing over what until the previous day had

been a beautiful star fire. The creature had dug through

the ash heap, still smelling the aroma of caribou meat,

but finding nothing to satisfy its hunger.

— Right, let's get going, — commanded the

Canadian, directing us to the northeast of the region, in

the direction of the shepherd's camp.

As we walked through the woods, we could still

hear their muffled roars, freezing the spine of anyone

who heard them. — They are just animals, — I repeated

to myself, — They are just animals. — Ancestral fear

makes us fear beasts and darkness, but rationality should,

in theory, be able to rid us of unfounded fears. I realized

then that rationality would not be very useful in our

current situation — our fear was well founded.

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— You see, it is theorized that we fear smiles in

the dark because their basic shape is similar to the fangs

of a large nocturnal feline, — I explained, more to

myself than to my companions. Showing knowledge still

gave me some power, even if such power was false and,

the knowledge, outside my area. The fact crossed the

zone of knowledge that Lucy was studying, but even she

didn't seem interested.

— Do you say this to console us? — Bergeron

asked.

— Silly psychological theories! — exclaimed

Keene bitterly.

— Use a little logic, — Lucy interrupted them.

— You use your experience to deal with fear, Mr.

Bergeron. Our esteemed Dr. Keene uses his concepts to

diminish the intensity of the problems. Kevin and I use

our knowledge, each in our own field. Our father left us

an excellent heritage in this regard; paleontological

knowledge allows him to analyze each species we

encounter, as well as their behavior, and psychological

knowledge allows me to deal with humans who try to get

in our way.

With a grunt of contempt, Keene commented:

— Don't you think you have too high a concept

of yourself?

— No, Doctor. When you spend a lifetime

without anyone having any concept of you; having a

little pride doesn't do any harm.

Ahead of us, Bergeron listened to the dialog with

an attentive ear, but without deviating from the path he

knew so well. With one more step, he entered the

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clearing we were seeking, but suddenly retracted his

body and told us to wait. We had reached Aputik's camp.

— What is it? What's ahead? — Keene asked,

trying to look over Bergeron's shoulder. Breathing

heavily, the Canadian replied:

— See for yourself, — leaving the entrance to the

plain soon after. When we stood in the same spot, we

understood his shock.

At a distance of almost half a kilometer, the huge

clearing stretched out like the white immensity we had

expected. Closer to the tree line, however, a huge

bloodstain was penetrating the snow and beginning to be

absorbed by it. There were no palpable traces or any

other macabre objects, just blood.

— We're too late, — Lucy commented, — and...

I'm afraid we've lost Aputik.

— No, maybe not, — Andri said almost in a

desperate tone. — He's a countryman, he knows... he

knows his way around in case of an attack, and...

— Not that kind of attack, I presume, — Keene

said.

— No! You are wrong! Aputik may have

survived! — Although he said this, you could see in his

eyes that the words were empty and without intention.

He himself did not believe what he was saying, but he

refused to believe otherwise, either. He could not

conceive the idea that he had allowed someone from his

village to have been killed and worse — that he could

have arrived earlier. Of course, there wouldn't have been

much to be done, even if we had arrived earlier, but even

I knew it wasn't wise to bring it up at that moment.

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— That blood might just belong to the herd, —

he insisted in his delusion, — Let's go to that tree at the

end of the clearing; that's where he usually camps.

We solemnly followed his steps across the plain,

trying to divert our attention from the horrendous image

left by the attack that certainly hadn't happened more

than 12 hours before. The humidity had kept the blood

viscous and the cold had preserved it. Fortunately,

nothing else was left, because this is the way predators

act. Many believe that the scene of a feline attack, for

example, is atrocious, but this is only an idea influenced

by fiction. As I have had the displeasure of witnessing,

the scene is far less shocking. Perhaps blood, a button of

clothing, or a pair of shoes, but nothing else —

everything is consumed when available food is scarce.

At our feet, the footprints of bipedal predators

reminded us how wrong Andri was, but they also kept us

alert, forcing us to look constantly at all points in the

surrounding woods. The footprints reached the initial

spot, starting from the direction we were now heading.

Interspersed, were human tracks, which followed in

tandem with the larger ones. Halfway down the trail, a

cover made of moose hide told the story of what had

been the shepherd's last evening.

Finally, we reached the roots of the huge birch

tree that was Aputik's base. Right there, out in the open,

he must have spent his nights tending the caribou herd,

using a method similar to ours to lean against the trunk

of the large tree that sheltered him.

There, too, the man's shallower footprints began,

and a little further on, those of the beast. The sight

destroyed any last bit of hope the community leader still

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had. A death had happened under his supervision, and in

his mind, the blame lay completely on him.

At last, Bergeron brought his hands to his chest

in grief, muttering a long, pained cry. Without turning to

our team, he then said:

— Now listen, I no longer care whether you

study this monster or not; I will personally kill it as soon

as we reach the coal mine!

And saying this, he went on towards the next

boundary of the frightening fir forest. Lucy and I looked

at each other, and this time even Jacob participated in

saying something with his eyes, albeit over the glasses

that rested on the tip of his nose.

⬫⬫⬫

Around the campfire, the cold eased a little more.

It had been a few hours since he sat in that circle of

people trying to get some information, but without

success. The villagers were a friendly and generous

people, able to speak his language and answer him, but

they seemed to have no time for it. All around them, the

younger people wanted to know everything, or rather

confirm everything they had learned — what food,

entertainment and fashion were like in modern

civilization. Frederick Frost had lived his whole life in

this so-called modern civilization, it is true, but he did

not think he could describe in detail how the younger

generation dressed or enjoyed themselves; that was

already out of his reach. So, seizing on someone's

citation of Bergeron's name, he asked:

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— Andri Bergeron? Do you know where to find

him?

To which a crowd answered in a confusion of

voices that he had left in the direction of the Dene tribe,

not far from there. Among these words, there were also

references to two young people and a certain "playboy",

which seemed an excellent description in the eyes of the

rector.

— Very well, — he said to himself. — One more

stretch of the trip. — Saying goodbye to his companions,

he tried to get up, but the next subject already

surrounded him again, preventing him from leaving the

place. Following his good manners, he sat down, trying

his best to describe the improlific routine of a modern

teenager.

⬫⬫⬫

The woods were becoming more closed now,

with few gaps between the branches of one tree and

those of another. The birch trees, which studded the

spruce thicket, rose high enough to block some sunlight,

meaning it was also darker in the area where we now

found ourselves. Following in a single line through the

corridors of pine trees and whitish logs, I was beginning

to notice, not exactly the presence of something, but its

absence.

— Have you noticed that we haven't seen any

wild animals for a few hours now? — I asked the group

accompanying me.

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— Wasn't that squirrel enough to satisfy you? —

Bergeron asked, already opening his backpack to get

some meat.

— No, he means...it seems that wildlife is scarce

around here, — Lucy explained.

— Oh, well...we noticed the same thing some

time ago, — Andri said, somewhat embarrassed. — We

used to supplement our diet with game meat, as well as

fish, but...lately, there are no longer large herds of elk to

sustain us, and predators have always been rare; even

more so now. That's why the village has settled near the

Partridge — so that we can make better use of whatever

resources the Stewart offers.

— For now, — Keene hissed. — This has already

been the cause of the destruction of many biomes; one of

which we witnessed in South Africa.

— And what is your suggestion, Doctor? — The

emphasis in the title was contemptuous of the

importance Keene attached to it.

— For humanity? Not much to be done, really.

Someone lived here before you, so no one can blame you

for living in the region. But I encourage everyone to

leave this place and move to a region where it is possible

to subsist on vertical vegetable and fungus farms, which

should cause as little damage to the environment as

possible.

— I believe there is yet another cause for the

attacks, — I said. — Of course, your theory makes

sense, Dr. Keene, and poaching really limits the supply

of animals, but think also about the biology of these

creatures. They are very well adapted to life in the

freezing climate of these mountains, but were rarely seen

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in this area before, which means that their presence must

have been more concentrated in the lower areas around

the mountain, where the temperature is milder, but still

low enough to be comfortable. Over time, though, the

high temperatures can push the cold weather closer and

closer to the mountain top, and its inhabitants have to

keep up. This factor can be even more impactful than the

over-hunting itself and I don't believe that these two

peoples, neither of whom use electricity, are to blame for

this, except for the herds they raise.

Keene resigned himself at my remark, agreeing

with a nod. Perhaps this was the first time I had seen the

noted biomedical expert find value in anything I said,

and, I must say, the feeling was gratifying.

— Regardless, — he raised his forefinger in the

air to say, — The only way out remains the same — to

leave the premises.

— I'm afraid we have no such option, Doctor

Keene, — Andri said. — Our people have learned to live

like the original owners of this land, and, like them,

would probably not adapt well to any other region.

— Well, I insist that there is only one way out,

however difficult, and that if they don't take it soon, they

will pay for their choice.

At that moment, Bergeron stopped his step and

turned back.

— You know, Doctor, I wouldn't mind leaving

you behind and seeing how you personally deal with

your beloved wild nature.

— You…wouldn't dare!

— You don't want to find out, Doctor. Now how

about stopping your threats against my village and

538

moving faster? You know what happens to the caribou

that comes last. — Keene shuddered slightly, before

picking up his pace as Andri had told him to. But his

dread was not comparable to what I felt when I realized

the meaning of his words — I was the last of the herd.

Years working with animals had trained me to watch the

rear of the research group, preventing surprise attacks

from the predators that proliferated in the reserve, and

now this instinct drove me to always stay behind, just

behind what was left of my family, the only reminder of

what we had once been. My experience also taught me

that the Canadian was right. The animal left last was also

the weakest of the herd, the most sickly or physically

unfit. None of that applied to me, fortunately, but the

predators didn't know it.

⬫⬫⬫

The wind, sharp as blades, cut his already

dehydrated skin. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to keep

telling his stories to the youngsters after all. At least,

along with the enormous burden of entertaining that

friendly group, came the benefit of warming himself by a

fire. The memory calmed him and relaxed his body

momentarily, but he could not fall asleep — not there,

not now. If he did, he would never wake up again, and he

couldn't lose now, so close was he to prevent the evil

from spreading.

Ahead of him, another depression, this one much

wider, shielded the Dene tribe that inhabited it to protect

themselves from the intense cold. Soon the pain caused

by the low temperature would pass, as soon as he entered

539

the crater. God, thank goodness Lucy was not exposed to

this. The woods the team was now traversing were

dangerous, but at least they were dense enough to block

the strongest winds. By slipping and rolling, he reached

the first row of huts masterfully built by the local

indigenous people. The planks were cut to perfection,

completely isolating the inhabitants of those enviable

dwellings. In fact, even the bumpy huts of Bergeron's

village would be more comfortable than his current

situation. Rising from the ground, he knelt in front of

one of the houses, still clutching the fur cloak provided

by the villagers. With what little energy he had left, he

muttered something, trying to make himself heard, but

there was no sound at all. Desperate, he tried to scream,

but to no avail. Unable to move his legs, he collapsed

onto his side, lying on the icy village ground. The cloak

was not enough to warm him, and neither were the felt

robes he had obtained. Feeling his body contract, he

understood that this was the last act of protest against

death. He would succumb there, and the tears that

flowed from his eyes would be blown away by the cruel

Yukon wind. A light then dawned on his inert eyes,

before darkness took hold of them again.

Perhaps hours passed, perhaps days; he couldn't

tell, before he came to his senses again. With his vision

still blurred, he saw the figure of a man in front of him;

two others guarding each flank. The one in the middle

sat with a jacket covering his lean body and a hat

covering his temples. At his command, one of those

standing next to him approached and gave him a hot,

bitter liquid to drink, with the fir needles still floating

around to show what the infusion was made of.

540

— Feeling better? — asked the man who seemed

to have authority. — What is your name? — The voice

was soft and loving, as no other authority had ever been

when speaking to him.

— Frederick Frost, — he answered, still weak.

— I need you to help me, sir.

⬫⬫⬫

— We are close now, — announced Bergeron,

who was leading us through the tangle of pine needles.

— As soon as we reach the next depression, we will also

see the mine deposits. — I could imagine Keene

commenting on the fact that all their constructions are

based on pits in the snow, but, contrary to my

expectations, the biomedical doctor remained silent,

fearing being left out in the cold.

With one last push, Andri moved away the

branches obstructing our passage, opening up before us a

white expanse once again. The wind now became more

evident, as there was no protection from the trees around

us, and walking against its force was painful and tiring,

but Lucy seemed hopeful of what we would find down

there. Stepping forward, she passed in front of Bergeron,

about to jump onto the ice slope, but held her momentum

and turned back in silence.

— What is it? What's wrong? — I asked.

— I think ... the mine is no longer an option.

With a suspicious look, Bergeron went to the

edge of the cliff, followed by me. He then peered

carefully, turning back sharply as I admired what had

become our future. In the depression far below us, four

541

animals were resting in the snow, some walking on their

hind legs, others crouching like birds. A few meters in

front of them, the whiteness of the snow was devoured

by the darkness of a mine entrance.

— Excellent! — Jacob complained in a low tone.

— And now, what is your wonderful plan?

Bergeron remained silent, analyzing what he

would do, thinking of all the ways to reach the depots. In

his mind, there were countless of them, and they all

ended in death.

— Well? — insisted Keene.

— I don't know, okay? I simply have no idea how

we get down there; I don't even know why these

creatures are here!

— It seems to me that they also want to take

refuge from the cold, — Lucy remarked calmly. — Now,

use a little logic. The reason for the animals to be here is

not as important for us as the means by which they got

there.

— There's a sharp drop-off just ahead, opening to

the left, — Bergeron remembered.

— There it is! — Lucy said excitedly. — Those

animals don't jump well. We can find a place high

enough to protect ourselves and that will allow us to

study them at the same time.

— And where would this place be?

— How about...over there? — Following the

direction she pointed, we found the top of the rocky

mountain that housed the Datsá mine. — I believe that

the path to the right leads to the top, right?

— Correct, — Andri replied, following her

reasoning.

542

— Then that's where we are going. Mr. Bergeron,

I ask that you become part of my team now. — With

that, she set off once again, taking the path that led to the

right of the valley. The Canadian seemed amazed at

Lucy's determination and turned his still surprised gaze

to me, to which I responded with a satisfied smile.

This amazement was already a characteristic

reaction of most when they saw that Lucy Lane refused

to submit to the ideals of the system, and nothing gave

me more pleasure than to be the recipient of this

exaggerated surprise. Still stunned, he followed her,

Keene and I following close behind.

Moving away from the edge to avoid being seen

by the theropods, we followed a narrow strip of frozen

ground, compressed between the fall and the woods,

allowing us to squeeze up against the trees.

The passage widened considerably ahead, leading

to a descent not accessible from the crater where the

animals were. I had to restrain myself at this point; my

inclination was to return to the edge of the cliff and look

once more, to try to identify the species we would study,

but it was not safe to do so now. The path we were

traveling on would soon become a slope, and if we were

spotted, we would have to deal unarmed with a pack of

predators. With this in mind, what did Bergeron intend to

do? Kill these carnivores — that was what he had

threatened to do. I was not against defending human life,

even if it meant the destruction of animal life, but what

exactly was he thinking of using in this remote part of

the world? I would soon find out; the ground was already

falling away beneath our feet, pointing at an angle to the

rocky ground far below.

543

— Careful here, — Lucy warned. — It's harder

to run with broken legs.

The warning was macabre, but valid. Large

boulders rose from the ground, having been washed

away by an ancient river that had now dried up and

whose bed had frozen before the mighty snowfall.

Cautiously, we balanced ourselves so as not to slip, and

in the end, we had to resort to some fir branches brought

by last night's blizzard to support us in the spaces

between the rounded rocks. The trail was exhausting and

discouraging, but Lucy kept us busy discussing.

— Is anyone else...scattered around the area? —

she asked between gulps of air.

— A few shepherds. Do you think ... there is still

some risk? — Bergeron said.

— There is a great risk until someone leaves this

region — humans or animals.

— That won't be necessary.

Keene looked up at that moment.

— Don't tell me you think about living in

harmony with the animals? — Lucy asked with ironic

emphasis. Andri was silent again, not bothering to satisfy

our curiosity. At least he had kept us entertained until

here, where the old bed ended and opened into a series of

arms that snaked down the mountain, leading nowhere.

To the east, the mountainside led to the top of the mine;

not a man-made path, but by erosion. Naturally, Lucy ran

to reach the path, being met by the gate of branches that

arched over the path, struggling to cover the natural

opening. The snow, studded with small smooth pebbles,

had grooves and wear formed by the force of the rain

that had fallen on the area and left its mark before

544

disappearing again. This path was as slippery as wet mud

and rose at an acute angle, the opposite of the one we

had traveled a few hours before, except for the height,

which here would reach more than fifteen meters, giving

us a privileged view of the surrounding area. If before

we were supporting ourselves in order not to fall

forward, now we were making even more effort in order

not to fall backwards and roll back to the beginning of

the climb.

As we approached the top of the mine, Lucy

proceeded slowly, lowering her body onto the blanket of

snow that covered the wooden structure supporting the

entrance to the mine. Signaling for us to leave the woods

and join her, Lucy sat cross-legged, leaving about two

meters between herself and the fifteen-meter drop just

ahead. Imitating her caution, the three of us also bent

down and came to sit the same distance away from the

deadly Datsá fall. From here, we could get a much better

idea of how our animals looked. Finally satiating one of

my curiosities, I was able to analyze as much as I wanted

the group of predators far below. The body was solid and

covered with the protective layer of fluffy hair —

something between fur and feathers — which

unfortunately I would never have the chance to touch, as

I had done with the Kaiaimunus of Ambungi. Their legs

had the same protection up to their thighs, where it

would suddenly stop. The animal's formidable skull was

adorned by teeth that hung like fangs, even as the jaw

closed, and above the snout, its small horn rose in the

tones of white and ivory. Of the species of that genus

discovered in North America, only one grew large

enough to fit the description I provide here.

545

— Ceratosaurus dentisulcatus, — I whispered so

that only Lucy could hear.

⬫⬫⬫

The snowfall had already stopped. Footprints

were now being left in the fluffy snow from the Dene

settlement toward the Datsá mine. This, by the way, was

another mark left by modern civilization; a scar on the

indigenous land that had never healed and that no one

had bothered to close.

So, apparently, are all the steps of "progress".

The coal had been dug up and processed until it was

exhausted. Then the multitude of men who worked at the

site decreased until even those in the most elegant

clothes (these being the same ones who did not touch

tools) left the site.

But Datsá was way ahead for the time being. Just

ahead were far worse dangers, including a clearing

where there was no confirmation of safety and the

shadowy woods that had earlier seemed so distant and

unreal to him. Throwing over his shoulders the moose

fur cape, he took a deep breath, releasing a cloud of

steam that curled around him.

⬫⬫⬫

The vapor curled around the snout of one of the

animals, who woke up slowly, fluttering his feathers like

a huge bird and stretching his legs like a feline would.

The tiny arms would not serve as an anchor for him to

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stand up, so he had to rely entirely on the strength of the

powerful leg muscles. Straightening himself on his hind

limbs, he sniffed the air with interest. He had been

sniffing for a few hours now. Then he had fallen asleep,

and now he smelled the same odor again. Try as he

might, however, he could not find the source of that

smell. It was a scent known to his sense of smell,

something he had smelled while hunting in the woods; it

was the smell emitted by the creatures that clung to the

trees to sleep. But now he couldn't see any of them; he

could feel only their essence everywhere.

Other members of the flock also sniffed the air

from time to time, but soon gave up. He should give up,

too. After all, there was something more important to

worry about. Walking with heavier steps than usual, he

walked towards another male of the flock and waited

until he had his attention. When the second predator

opened his eyes and stood up, his size alone was enough

to frighten the smaller individual, but he held his

position. The two stared at each other for a few minutes,

measuring each other's length by following each other's

tails, forming a circle that continuously turned. The

difference in length was also clear, and there was not

much the smaller animal could do. Then, raising its

muzzle high in the air, it emitted something like a low

gurgle, followed by a flutter of feathers that repeated

every few seconds. Unimpressed, the second dinosaur

mimicked the gesture, displaying its nose horn and

shaking its black feather covering in the process and

gurgling loudly. Soon a third animal joined them, and the

trio of Ceratosaurus formed a triangle, where each

547

animal kept up its bizarre dance, trying to get the others

to give in.

— What is that horrible sound? — Lucy asked,

waking up.

— The Ceratosaurus. I think they are trying to

impress the other opponents.

— I'm certainly impressed.

— Don't be ironic, okay? Come and see; it's

fascinating!

Dragging herself to the edge of the cliff, Lucy let

her weight fall on the frozen frame of the mine, finally

seeing what I had described in my notes.

— As you can see, the nose horn is used to

impress other males and decide who has the right to

mate. Now look in that corner. — Following the

direction I pointed, she saw the female, the fourth

member of the flock, keeping a steady gaze on the ritual

that was taking place there.

— How can she like this? — Lucy asked

yawning. — Even the music Dad played sounded better

than this.

— I believe the sound is only to intimidate other

males, not to...

Before I could finish my thought, the chanting of

two of the males gradually became quieter, until they fell

silent and only the third could be heard. Overjoyed with

his victory, he marched up to the female of the flock.

When he was only a few meters from her, though, the

huge female stood up and advanced against him,

growling. The male stepped back, confused, and returned

to his chorus of gurgles. Together the males continued

the strange ritual.

548

— So...that's it? She decides who wins, even if he

beats the other males? — Lucy laughed, asking

immediately afterwards:

— Since you mentioned the horn, if it is not used

for combat and these arms are not going to win any

archery competitions, what does this little guy use, then?

— Only its mouth. Like the abelisaurids, this

genus has no tools other than its jaws and legs to tear the

victim apart. — After making sure that Bergeron was

still asleep, I went on to explain:

— The skull's strong muscles allow it to use it

like an...axe, shall we say. The jaw opens wide, and the

skull comes down like a brute weight on the prey,

increasing the damage done by the teeth.

— It was not a pleasant way to die. Do you think

Aputik suffered?

— Not for long. This impact bite usually targets

the spine, immobilizing the prey immediately. In the case

of a human, it probably hits the cervical spine, causing

almost instant death.

With his back to us, Bergeron was breathing

faster now, unable to hide his hatred. He had heard what

I said and hated even more the creatures that had

devoured his friend.

The ritual was still sounding in the background

when Bergeron got up, waking Keene who was sleeping

against a rock to his left.

— We have to distract these animals, — he said

in a somber tone. — Only then can we reach the deposit.

Still thinking about the question, Lucy suggested

with a hand resting on her chin:

— Is there another herd in the area?

549

— Another one? Well, yes, we have shepherds

scattered all over the region.

— Then bring one of them here and find a way to

climb the hill before they devour you.

— Miss, are you suggesting that I sacrifice the

animals of my people?

— Are they worth more than what is in that

warehouse?

Andri Bergeron remained static, as if paralyzed

by uncertainty. She was right — the animals were the

main source of food for his village, but if those beings

reached the tribe and then the village, there would not

even be a village of their own for much longer. With a

heavy mind, he held his nasal bridge to fight the

headache that overwhelmed him.

— Right, — he said at last. — There is a herd to

the south. Twenty kilometers, maybe. It will take me a

whole day to bring them back, but it might work.

Getting up from the frozen rock, the Canadian

started to walk back to the spruce corridor down the

Datsá slope. The path required the same effort as before,

so he clung to branches and twigs, trying not to be

carried away by the lack of friction. He could still hear

the roars and gurgles of the huge animals here, but he

would soon silence them. Keene had a misconception

about his ideals and it bothered him. As he descended

the slope of snow and rock, he meditated on this, as the

physical exertion required far less of his mind than it

would of most.

The doctor seemed to see him as a monster who

wished to kill the creatures for fun, but his concept could

not be further from the truth. He himself saw beauty in

550

those animals, as he had learned from his parents and

other elders in both his village and the Dene tribe. Ever

since he was little, he would sit around the fire, listening

carefully as the elders described the power and elegance

of the large predators in the area. None of those animals

was monstrous or evil; they were forces of nature and

deserved as much respect as the wind, the snowfall and

the stream of the river that fed them. He didn't want to

kill them, but there wasn't much else to be done. Not

when the lives of his friends and family were in his

hands.

Bergeron had now finished descending the steep

slope and was looking around, both to locate himself and

to prevent a surprise attack. To the north, the dry creek

bed displayed its deadly smooth stones, always set up as

natural traps, and to the south, an empty expanse covered

the horizon, giving the impression of extending to the

end of the world.

Ahead, he would have twenty kilometers to walk,

which meant enough time to resolve his internal conflict

and plan what he would do on the way back. Being

contemplative, by the way, had been another gift from

the elders, especially the Dene, who taught that those

who want to be wise should be quiet and contemplative,

so that they might learn something. Of course, the advice

seemed distorted when it was understood that they

expected the younger ones to listen to the advice they

gave, while they themselves did not always return the

favor. Anyway, hypocrisy was a quality common to man,

present in all races and cultures, and even the wisest did

not entirely deprive themselves of it. It was also in these

conversations around the campfire that he learned to fear

551

the beast, and heard tales of great deeds of men and

women who had defeated it in battle, and many others

where the creature had won. Like a barbarian without

honor, the beast had taken the hearts of its victims with

it, or so he had been taught. Despite his credulity, he

doubted that an animal would target a specific body

organ, although he knew that this is precisely what killer

whales do when they hunt sharks, ramming into the fish

until it flips its belly upward, ripping out of its body only

the liver and leaving the rest to the waves.

What he had heard Kevin say had also stimulated

his hatred for the animal. Like an axe?

Is this how that being hunted? The comparison

sounded too painful for the man who had known that

young guy who dreamed of having everything he had

obtained in America, not knowing that Bergeron himself

would gladly return here if he could. That is why he had

done it so easily when that boy offered him assistance.

He still remembered well the day he had met him, in a

Florida cafe. It was his first vacation in three years and

he had left Minnesota to enjoy a few sunny days at the

beach when Sennet contacted him, saying that the beast

had been spotted near one of the herds and had taken

some of his animals. The stories had given him the

strength to want to fight, but fear made him question the

veracity of these tales. It is relatively easy to become a

hero after death; all that is needed is for your people to

decide so. In a village with an oral tradition, the story

would always be told in the same way, glorifying the

warrior who had actually been killed, and the younger

generations would firmly believe it. In this same village,

he was already considered a hero, for having achieved

552

what the teenagers there called "success". What success

was there in working six days a week in an environment

with no light or air supply, knowing that there would not

even be a chance to see his family in years? That was

what he was complaining about in the café when this

young man approached him. Wearing a suit and

sunglasses, as well as a neat hairstyle, he had a business

card that was then offered to him.

— I couldn't help overhearing you, sir, — he

introduced, repeating what all busybodies say. — I'm an

agent of the Protection and Aiding for Indigenous

Natives. I can finance your ticket home, if you wish.

It sounded too good to be true, and Bergeron

looked suspiciously at the card, but when he presented

cash, laying on the table exactly the amount Bergeron

had asked for, there was little to doubt. Now, however,

he wondered if he had acted wisely.

The herd he had come for was now close by and

had not been attacked like the one under Aputik's care,

as it was located further south of the area where the first

ones had been. With a few more steps, already exhausted

by the cold and the intense run he had undertaken so far,

he could finally calm down. Before his eyes was a small

herd of caribou, belonging to his village, along with the

shepherd that accompanied them in that hostile frozen

landscape.

The reason for introducing himself had to be as

believable as possible, and he had to think of one

quickly, without letting the man who had spent days and

nights protecting these animals imagine that he had done

so for no reason. With a short presentation, Bergeron

explained to the shepherd why he was taking the herd

553

back north, assuring him of their safety and advising him

to leave as soon as possible, which would be within a

few hours.

General vaccination? What a stupid lie he had

concocted! No one in their right mind would have

believed this huge lie, but he knew that shepherds are not

usually men of sound mind. It is almost impossible to

keep one's sanity after years in the company of no more

than animals and the eternal sight of snow and rocks.

From his own experience, Bergeron understood how

much it could mess with the human mind. But finally, he

believed this untruth and set about packing up his

belongings and dismantling the camp he had established

in the area. Meanwhile, Bergeron set off as quickly as

the trot of his animals would allow, guiding them with

commands he had learned from the more experienced

shepherds. The herd was tiny — only twelve animals,

enough to put Lucy's plan into action and save the tribe;

to truly be a hero. Sacrificing those animals would be a

shame, true, but he had already accepted at this point that

there was no other alternative to save his village as a

whole. Much more determined, he would have the same

twenty kilometers to travel back. Now, however, with

much more cheer.

⬫⬫⬫

The clearing had been no more than an empty

expanse. From the information he had been given, there

must have been someone there and also a herd of sheep,

but there was nothing, not even footprints. Apparently,

the blizzard of the previous day had covered any traces

554

left behind. There was also no sound or other sign of the

predator he had feared he would find in that area, further

contradicting what he had been told. At this point, he

was beginning to suspect that he had been tricked, but

there was not much else to do other than keep moving.

Somewhere ahead he was about to prevent a tragedy.

⬫⬫⬫

Andri Bergeron's legs were burning, crying out

for rest. Fortunately, his conscience was also throbbing,

distracting from the intense physical pain. Near the

Datsá mine, he dropped to his knees, allowing his limbs

to go numb almost immediately. The sun was setting by

now, and he had done his part in the plan, but at what

cost? Bergeron hated lying, and had done it to convince

the shepherd to give him control of the herd. How could

anyone be a hero basing his actions on a lie? There was

nothing more to change; he had already done it. Now,

with what little energy was still contained in his body, he

stood up, leaning on a fir stick, followed by the caribou

who accompanied him. Lest he himself become part of

the bait, Andri Bergeron went behind the herd and led

them, now only with his voice, to the other face of the

mountain. Following his command, the herd slowly

circled the base of the mine and moved towards the tree

line, a hundred meters ahead. Still with tightness in his

chest, the Canadian crept into the fir path, scaling with

difficulty the slope that now required even more effort

than usual. At least he no longer heard the rustling of his

herd and hoped that the predators would not hear it

either; at least not until he was at the top, from where he

555

could descend the mine entrance and reach the deposit.

Now, literally dragging himself along, he was already

using the boulders of the frozen path to anchor his

weight, dredging up the snow and sticks with his fur

cloak on the way. A few more meters. He couldn't give

up now, not when the survival of all his people depended

on what lay in that building. Just a little more and the

ground would become horizontal again. Thrown to the

ground, half dead, he raised his eyes and saw four

figures sitting on the edge of the mine. One of them wore

long wavy red hair that reached his shoulders and smiled

when he saw him, highlighting even more the freckles

that dotted his cheeks. Next to him, a second figure had

brown highlights covering her sides and admired him

with childlike happiness. The last discernible figure had

curly hair at the nape of his neck and wore

round-rimmed glasses that hung from the tip of his nose,

adding to the image of disgust that he conveyed. There

was a fourth person, but this one kept his eyes fixed on

the creatures below, fascinated. When he finally turned

to Bergeron, he recognized the distinctive official coat

and heard the indigenous leader's gentle voice tell him:

— Well done, my boy. You've done it.

— Chief...Bruneau?