Page 27 of Circle of Days

Bez was walking through West Wood with a young woman called Lali.

He was fond of her. People said she looked like him, with a wide mouth and a flat nose.

She was probably his daughter, though the woodlanders were not able to be exact about such things.

They believed that a woman who had sex with several different men would have stronger babies.

Anyway, he liked to teach Lali, and she loved to learn. Bez was one of the few woodlanders who spoke a little of the herder language, and he was teaching it to Lali. Suddenly he stopped and said: “Look at that.”

She said: “What?”

He pointed to a dead pine tree.

“It’s a dead tree,” she said.

“There’s a hole, at about the level of a tall man’s head. What do you see?”

“Oh!” she said. “Bees—lots of them. Going in and out. Hey, let’s run! We might get stung.”

“Just hold on,” Bez said calmly. “They’re not interested in us—yet.

And if that changes, the pond is only a few steps that way.

” He pointed. The big pond in the middle of the wood had not yet dried up.

Bez thought it must be fed by a spring, rather than rainfall—which was lucky for the woodlanders.

“Jump into the water and the bees can’t get at you. ”

“All right,” she said doubtfully.

“Don’t you want some honey?”

Lali licked her lips. The woodlanders were living on spring fruits and vegetables. The deer were shyer and more elusive than ever, and they had not had venison all winter. And it was too early in the year for hazelnuts. Everyone was hungry.

Bez said: “Go back to the village and bring me some fire, please, and I’ll show you something.” There were always cooking fires going in the village, regardless of the weather.

Lali hurried off, glad to get away from the bees.

Bez started collecting fuel for a smoky fire: damp moss from around the pond, the grey lichen called old-man’s beard, green pine needles, fresh shoots.

To start the fire he picked up old dried-up twigs and dead leaves and piled them at the base of the dead pine.

As soon as Lali got back he lit the dry tinder, then, when it was burning well, he put the other fuel on top.

Thick smoke rose and visibly irritated the bees.

Lali said: “I don’t like this.”

“Go home if you like,” Bez said. “I can do this on my own. But I thought maybe you’d like to learn how it’s done.”

“All right,” she said.

“Now, can you see a large-leaf lime tree nearby?”

They both looked around. Such trees were common. “Over there,” said Lali.

The tree had heart-shaped leaves bigger than a man’s hand. “Fetch me some big leaves,” said Bez.

She did so.

“Now,” he said, “get ready to run.”

Using two of the leaves as protection for his hands, he picked up the smoldering fire in its entirety and stuffed it through the entrance hole to the bees’ nest. “Ow, that hurt!” he said, shaking his hands. Then he said: “To the pond!”

As he ran he felt a sting on the back of his neck. He heard Lali say: “Ouch!” The bees knew who had violated their nest.

Lali beat him to the pond. They went in but the water was shallow.

They both sank down as far as they could, then dipped their heads.

When he could hold his breath no longer, Bez put his head up.

He was stung again. He saw Lali surface.

Quickly, he scooped up handfuls of mud and spread it over her head and neck while she gasped for breath. Then they both submerged again.

Next time they came up, the bees had gone.

Bez had several stings but Lali had only two or three.

They came out of the pond and washed off most of the protective mud. “Now,” said Bez, “let’s have a look at that nest.”

They returned to the dead pine. The bees were swarming around the nest entrance, which was partly blocked by the still-smoldering fire. But the insects moved slowly and uncertainly, as if dazed.

Bez used a couple of sticks of dead wood to remove the remains of the fire. The cavity was still full of smoke. The bees flew around aimlessly. Their nest was right in front of them but they did not recognize it.

Tentatively, Bez put his hand inside, ready to jerk it out instantly.

But he was not stung. He felt around, then touched what he was searching for: a sticky mass.

He pulled it out. “Look at that!” he said triumphantly to Lali.

It was a honeycomb, dark in color but dripping with yellow honey. “Do you want a taste? Take some!”

She dipped her fingers in the liquid and put them in her mouth. She swallowed and said: “Oh, my, it’s so good!”

“Take the comb,” he said, handing it to her. “Put it on a lime leaf so the honey doesn’t drip to the ground and go to waste.” Then he reached inside and brought out two more. “Three,” he said. “We were lucky.” He stacked his two on another leaf.

“We have to share,” said Lali in a wistful tone.

“Of course we do.”

They made their way to the village, a cluster of houses close to a stream—which had now dried up. Lali offered honey to some children and soon had a crowd around her.

Bez looked into the hut where he usually slept. His brother, Fell, was there, a younger, shorter, better-looking version of Bez. He was with Gida, a warm and sexy woman they both liked.

Fell and Gida were lying on their backs, side by side, looking pleased with themselves. Bez guessed they had just made love. He said: “I’ve been walking with Lali.” Gida was Lali’s mother. “We raided a bees’ nest.”

They both dipped their fingers in the honey, then made ecstatic faces.

Bez went outside and began offering the honey to everyone.

It was a lucky day.

A few days later, Lali was in floods of tears. Gida, her mother, had her arm around Lali, comforting her. The reason for her distress lay on the ground in front of them. A puppy had been killed and mostly eaten.

There were several dogs in the village. They warned of strangers and joined enthusiastically in any hunt.

A dog did not belong to anyone in particular, but sometimes a dog would attach itself to an individual.

Fell had one that followed him around. Bez had noticed that girls of Lali’s age liked to befriend a particular pup.

Gida confirmed his guess. “She was fond of that little dog.”

Bez said: “I wonder what killed it.” Wolves rarely came near human habitations.

It might have been a boar, a highly aggressive wild pig, but they were so dangerous that the woodlanders would immediately chase and kill any that entered the wood.

Bez guessed it had been killed by a merlin, a small falcon that might hunt in the woods.

Then he noticed something unusual on the ground nearby. It appeared to be the droppings of a big animal. There were four large brown turds, too big to belong to a wolf or a boar.

Bez felt hopeful. If his guess was right, the woodlanders were in luck.

Lali stopped sobbing. “What is it?” she said.

“I think it’s a bear,” said Bez.

“I’ve never seen a bear.”

“Nor have I,” said Gida.

Bez picked up a turd and broke it in half. He could see undigested leaves and the stalks of berries. “A bear that hasn’t eaten much meat lately,” he said.

“Like us,” said Gida.

Lali said: “Did a bear kill my favorite puppy?”

“I think so,” said Bez. He looked around for more signs. A few paces away was a fallen tree, the bark of which had been mostly stripped off. “It’s definitely a bear,” Bez said. “Look at this.”

Lali said: “It’s just a dead tree.” Then, remembering how she had been wrong about the dead pine tree that contained honey, she added: “But perhaps it’s more than that.”

Bez smiled. “The bear stripped the bark,” he said. “With its claws.”

“Why?” Lali wondered. She had recovered from her grief.

“There are usually bugs under the bark of a dead tree. Bears like to eat them.”

They walked on. Gida said: “The bear has probably been living someplace that ran out of water, and it moved to this wood in desperation. It obviously drinks from our pond.”

Lali said: “I’m never going to that pond again.”

Bez said: “Let’s take a look.”

When they got there, they studied the mud at the edge of the water, looking for prints. Gida showed Lali the marks of deer and fox. Then she said: “Aha! Here it is.”

The print of the bear paw in the mud was not unlike that of a rather broad human foot, with five toes. But in front of the toe marks were small, distinctive claw marks.

Bez frowned. “The wide foot suggests a full-grown animal, but the print is not deep. He’s not very heavy, probably because he isn’t getting enough to eat.”

Gida said: “He’s lost a claw, look.”

Lali bent down. “Oh, yes! The little toe on the left foot.”

“Probably in a fight, or maybe just an accident.”

Lali was surprised. “What creature fights a bear?”

“Another bear, sometimes—in a quarrel over a female, perhaps. Or it could have been a boar. Those creatures will fight anything.”

Bez said: “We have to tell the others.”

“Yes,” said Gida. “Let’s ask everyone to come together at suppertime to discuss this.”

Lali said: “What are we going to discuss?”

“How to catch this bear and kill it,” said Bez.

The hunt took place on the following day.

The entire population got up at dawn. Bez could not count them—woodlanders were not good at numbers—but they were surely enough to kill a bear.

Bez was eager. A big bear could feed the village for a week—if they could catch it.

It could also kill someone with one sweep of its massive paw.

The village was near the Break. The pond was west of the village. The dead puppy had been farther west again. That made sense. The bear would choose to stay away from humans, and would want to get to water without passing the village.