Chapter 55: Expedition
Progress is not made overnight. The days and nights turned, passing through the Peach Moon and the Melon Moon, until they finally arrived at the Fruit Moon.
Normally, this was the busiest time of year for the clansmen, as all kinds of fruits had ripened. But now, aside from picking some during their ten-day holidays, the people did not leave the village.
The wine was still fermenting and bubbling. The hemp, having been fished out of the retting pond, needed to be peeled and dried; it would be a long time yet before it could be spun into thread.
The adults were busy harvesting grain before the ears shattered and dropped their seeds, carefully collecting the barley for the next planting season. From the by-products of winemaking, the children received a snack of malt sugar caramel. They now knew that sprouted wheat was sweet, but they didn't understand why it was necessary for making wine, let alone why Brother Jian would rejoice over a pile of moldy, damp wheat grains.
On the seventh day of the Fruit Moon, the village welcomed the first allied tribe: a group of 13 strong young men. They were from a tribe near the upper reaches of the Grass River and had been the most eager to join the alliance.
With them, they brought dire news: another tribe had been attacked. According to those who escaped, the attackers were led by several warriors from the former Hua tribe. With their hair unbound, they shouted in an incomprehensible language, eager to prove their strength to their new masters. The clansmen couldn't imagine such a situation, wondering how anyone could live alongside those who had killed their kin. It was a reality that was unimaginable to those who had not experienced it.
A few days later, more and more people arrived at the village, bringing their own stone axes, bows and arrows, and stone-tipped spears. The villagers had already prepared enough food, and what they considered an ordinary meal was, in the eyes of their guests, a feast of the highest order.
Chen Jian counted the days. By the 15th day of the Fruit Moon, ten of the fourteen tribes who had taken the oath had arrived. One tribe had been attacked, and three others—all of whom lived far from the threat—had not come.
A murderous atmosphere settled over the bustling village. In front of the settlement, Chen Jian led the warriors of his two tribes to form up beneath the black and white flags. The allied tribesmen watched, muttering in awe at their organized ranks.
Song stood at the far left of the formation. He glanced sideways at the crooked lines of the other tribes and involuntarily stood up straighter, his chest puffed out with pride. He felt that his thirty men alone could charge over and knock down the dozens standing beside them.
Standing before the assembled warriors, Chen Jian made no grand, provocative speeches. Instead, he led a horned deer out and deliberately paraded it in front of everyone.
"That tribe killed our people, so we will kill them in return," he said plainly. "That tribe has horned deer, sheep, and food for the winter. Every tribe that participates in this battle will get a share."
His own men remained quiet, for the drums had not sounded, and speaking out of turn would earn them a beating. The other tribesmen, however, shouted with excitement. They, too, wanted to ride the horned deer; the tall, mountable animals held an irresistible fascination for men.
After saying only that, Chen Jian beat the drum, signaling his clansmen to disperse. There was much to do that night, many things to prepare. The whole village was busy, and he had to make the final preparations for the next day's expedition.
The women bustled about preparing food or carefully inspecting their brothers' weapons and wicker armor. They meticulously checked the tiered armor, with its layers of wicker strung together with buckskin rope, searching for any damage.
The unwed women of the tribe quietly approached the men they admired, whispering to them or carefully sewing an extra patch of deerskin onto their wicker armor, right over the spot where the heart beat.
The old grandmother kept wandering around the stove, reminding those cooking not to forget the salt in the lard and not to forget to fry the peas. She couldn't remember how many times she had said it, but the women never grew tired of it, responding to her each time, even though they knew they would never forget.
All kinds of pendants and animal teeth, carrying the hopes and blessings of the women, were hung around the necks of their brothers and lovers. The songs sung in the sunset were not war chants but love songs that made people blush. The children brought out their favorite caramel for their uncles and brothers to eat. Usually, they would tease them, biting off half a piece before giving it away, but this time they gave them whole pieces.
Even the little wolf cubs, who usually barked wildly, seemed uneasy. They hid in a corner watching the busy people, stifling their barks, which came out as whining moans. Today was so unusual that their master, who was normally reluctant to hit them, had whipped them with a rope for barking too loudly.
The rope had been wielded by Yu Qian'er. She was extremely upset but forced herself to remain calm. Chen Jian had tasked her with counting the men, the food for fifteen days, the feathered arrows, the stone spears, and the wicker armor. She had been busy for days, counting everything over and over again, terrified of making a mistake. She hadn't even had time to carve an animal-tooth pendant for her brother.
Every day was a dizzying rush of activity. Sometimes she went to bed so late it felt as if bone needles were being pushed into her skull, but she never complained. She faintly felt as if she were weaving nettles with her bare hands—that these supplies of food and weapons were the protective shirt for her brother. The more it hurt, the more it proved her worry for him was greater than that of the girl named Front Ya.
While the women were busy with their different tasks, the men enjoyed a rare moment of peace. Song and a few others sat by the river. Wolfpi bent over, searching for flat stones to skip, showing no sign of nervousness or fear.
The skipped stone created ripples on the water. Wolfpi stared at them and said, "The wicker can block a sling stone, but a bow and arrow can still get through."
"Not from a distance," Song answered. "Once we're within thirty paces, we can overwhelm them." He glanced at the other tribesmen in the distance. "That tribe fights in chaos," he said in a low voice. "We will definitely win."
As if to convince himself, he nodded heavily and repeated, "We will definitely win."
Wolfpi indifferently threw another stone. "Of course," he said. "Didn't the Hua tribe prove it a few days ago? We had a four-on-five skirmish, and they were covered in mud in no time. Any single one of them in that five-man team can't beat me, and probably can't beat you either, but they're powerful when they stick together."
Song ignored the last part of the comment and smiled casually. He folded a piece of thatch, bit down on it, and lay back, resting his head on his hands against a stone. He touched the blackened bone charm on his chest and whispered, "Mother, bless me."
***
On the morning of the 16th day of the Fruit Moon, the river was crowded with people. Dozens of birch-bark boats, laden with food, were tied together with ropes. Groups of men leaned into the lines, pulling them forward along the bank.
The women followed behind, chattering on about things they had already said dozens of times, while the men lowered their heads and pulled, their responses focused on trivial matters of life.
"Those gourds can be picked and dried. Don't forget to stir the malt in the clay pot. Remember to water the vegetable beds and collect the mustard seeds..."
Amidst the mundane instructions, a black and white bear flag was raised into the wind. The men did not look back. They simply dragged the boats and strode forward. The women watched their backs until they were finally hidden by a bend in the river, then hurried to the cliff behind the village. It was higher there. They could see farther, and maybe, just maybe, they could see their men one last time.
***
Chen Jian tried to keep his men close to the riverbank, a hundred paces away from the distant bushes, giving them enough time to react if anything happened. Wolfpi and Civet Cat rode two horned deer several hundred paces ahead of the main body, scouting the path forward. Several men from the other tribes ran back and forth on the flank away from the river, checking for potential enemies.
They did not travel far each day. In the evening, they lit a fire, and someone kept watch through the night. The next day, those who had been on watch could sleep on the boats. There were more than 100 warriors from his two tribes and over 80 from the others. Chen Jian had no plans for surprise attacks or clever maneuvers. He would simply push them all the way to the enemy's doorstep, forcing them to come out and fight.
He proceeded with the utmost caution. This was, after all, the first time he had commanded nearly 200 men in battle, and almost half of them didn't know the difference between a charge and a retreat. He would go slowly and play it safe.
It took them more than four days to cover a distance of over a hundred miles. At noon on the fifth day, Civet Cat reported that at their current pace, they could reach the enemy village before sunset. By his calculation, they were just over ten miles away.
If they continued, they would arrive at dusk. Instead, Chen Jian led his tribe forward for a few more miles and stopped at a very open stretch of riverbank. He calculated they were now only about ten miles from the village.
"Make camp and cook," he ordered. "Rest. We leave at dawn tomorrow."
"If we light fires now, they'll see the smoke," someone pointed out.
"Let them see it," Chen Jian replied, waving his hand. "Tell them we're coming."
He directed the men to build dozens of fires. Except for a few used for cooking, the rest were covered with thick, green leaves, which sent columns of dense black smoke billowing into the sky.
The black smoke was exceptionally conspicuous against the clear sky. Ten miles away, in the enemy village, it was seen immediately. The villagers exclaimed in alarm, stopped what they were doing, and stared blankly at the smoke rising from downriver. Someone screamed, and the village erupted into a panic. Warriors grabbed their weapons and began barricading the fence gate with logs. A few slaves who were threshing grain looked up for a moment and were immediately beaten with a stick by their overseer.
Red Fish and Badger also saw the dozens of columns of smoke, and they were terrified. None of the scouts they had sent out two months ago had ever returned. From that moment, Red Fish knew that the other tribe was far stronger than she had thought. The smoke rising now only confirmed her judgment. But why were there so many fires?
Badger grabbed his bow and arrows, called to several hunters, and shouted at Red Fish, "Watch the village! I'll go take a look."
"If you can't beat them, run!"
Badger waved a hand to show he understood, mounted his horned deer, and had the tribesmen open the wooden fence. With a dozen men, he cautiously advanced along the riverbank.
---
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