Fargoer by Petteri Hannila Page B

find a beautiful spot for the occasion where the people would then gather in numbers to feast and burn a pyre. This was their plan, also, and the boat moved rapidly, taking the trio towards the festival site they had chosen. Birds were chirping in the thickets surrounding the river, working as a choir to their celebration.
    Vierra and Vaaja often spent time by themselves in the summers, and then with their son after he was born. At first, they had been scared of a party coming from the north to seek revenge, but the northern forest had kept its demands. They had burned and buried Tuura appropriately; there was no reason to irritate a spirit of such a powerful man. Vierra had defeated him in an honest fight at the gathering, so in the eyes of the tribe she had committed no violation.
    What started as caution soon turned into a way of life. Accordingly, Vierra didn’t want to participate in her tribe’s fire fest, and they had found their own place for the celebration. Earlier that morning, they had fished and the river had indeed given them a good amount of trout for the feast. In the caressing light of the sun, the celebration site struck them with its beauty. On the shore of a small lake that rested below roaring rapids spread a small, forest-bordered glade. The short but bright summer of the north had cast a breathtaking field of flowery brilliance all over the clearing. They ran their boat ashore, and Vaaja gathered firewood for the pyre with their son. Vierra cleaned the fine catch of trout that they had caught. They would prepare them later, slowly, in the warm glow of the fire.
    Before lighting the bonfire, Vierra had one more task. If the fire fest was originally a southern tradition, the ritual hunt was an ancient, sacred thing for the Kainu. The head of the family was supposed to hunt alone before the brightest night of the summer. The luck they would have for hunting and fishing over the next year could be divined from the hunt’s results.
    In Vierra’s mind flashed a memory of the evening before. How she and Vaaja had drowsily listened to their son’s even breath as they lay in each other’s arms, quietly talking by the deep-red light of the hut fire.
    “You’re not seriously going to hunt alone tomorrow,” Vaaja had said, fondling Vierra’s shiny, dark hair.
    “Of course I am,” Vierra had answered, maybe too sharply, as the boy had started to swerve in his sleep. He calmed down just a moment afterwards and went back to sleep.
    “Why do you want to go? You didn’t want to celebrate with the others. I thought you didn’t care about the old ones’ traditions.”
    “The fire festival has nothing to do with it. Don’t you realize what happiness we have gotten for ourselves?” Vierra had looked at her sleeping son and then turned her gaze back to her husband’s blue eyes. “Even the forest has given to us in abundance. There’s no hunger, no thirst. Have we given thanks for it?”
    “You always leave part of the bounty to the dwellers of the earth, and sometimes blood, too. And we haven’t had that much luck, I’d like more sons.” Vaaja had looked at their son, who was fast asleep.
    “Is there something wrong with that one?” Vierra hadn’t even tried to cover her hurt tone. “The people of the earth will give you their blessings for a moment, but the great spirits will grant a lasting happiness. I will hunt and speak with them when I bring back the catch. And we should get more girls, not boys.”
    “But--” Vaaja had started. Vierra silenced her husband by kissing him. The talking was done for the time being, and they both had gone to sleep, each with their own ponderings.
    As Vierra gathered her bow and arrows, surrounded by her memories, Vaaja returned from gathering firewood.
    “If you go for the hunt, at least take the Turyan belt with you for luck,” Vaaja said, removing the dark belt from his slender hips.
    “You know I don’t like it. It feels cold and unfamiliar to carry.