Napachee. Robert Feagan

      

      NAPACHEE

      NAPACHEE

      A NOVEL BY

      ROBERT FEAGAN

      Copyright © Robert Feagan, 2007

      First edition 1999

      Second edition 2007

      All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise (except for brief passages for purposes of review) without the prior permission of Dundurn Press. Permission to photocopy should be requested from Access Copyright.

      Editor: Joy Gugeler

      Production and Cover Design: Teresa Bubela

      Text Design: Jen Hamilton

      Printer: Webcom

       Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

      Feagan, Robert, 1959-Napachee : a novel / by Robert Feagan.

      ISBN 978-1-55002-636-8

      1. Inuit—Juvenile fiction. I. Title.

      PS8561.E18N36 2007jC813'.54C2007-901099-7

      123451110090807

      We acknowledge the support of the Canada Council for the Arts and the Ontario Arts Council for our publishing program. We also acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Canada through the Book Publishing Industry Development Program and The Association for the Export of Canadian Books, and the Government of Ontario through the Ontario Book Publishers Tax Credit program, and the Ontario Media Development Corporation.

      Care has been taken to trace the ownership of copyright material used in this book. The author and the publisher welcome any information enabling them to rectify any references or credit in subsequent editions.

       J. Kirk Howard, President

      Printed and bound in Canada.

      Printed on recycled paper.

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      To my grandfather, Chester Feagan,

       and to my parents Hugh and Marj

       who nourished my vivid imagination.

      ONE

      The young polar bear lifted its head and sniffed the breeze as it swept across the barren expanse of the arctic tundra. It was an incredible May morning; the eternal darkness of a long northern winter had faded into a brilliant northern "spring". The cub stood on its hind legs struggling to identify the strange scent that floated on the wind. It carried fear and adventure and the discovery of things unseen. Returning to all fours, the cub timidly set forward.

      Suddenly, a low reproachful growl startled the cub so that it turned to acknowledge its mother approaching and scampered to her side. She continued to scold it for wandering too far from sight, nuzzling it with her nose and flipping it over onto its back. Her mouth opened, large and tongue-filled, and she licked the cub's small, angular face. With one more nudge she pushed it back onto its feet and towards the water.

      The cub's mother slowly but gracefully followed behind her young one, stopping only to take a deep breath of the breeze. She knew the smell of man and the danger that could travel with it. She would not feel secure until that scent was far, far away.

      Napachee held his breath. He closed his left eye, looked along the sight and pulled the trigger. The rifle shot rang in his ears as he realized he had, in fact, closed both eyes. He heard his father's soft laughter and knew his shot had not been a good one. Chuckling, his father pointed at the target they had set up on the snow some yards away. Napachee looked at it closely only to find that there was no mark on it at all! He had missed it completely!

      "You must be patient," Enuk said. "You are too anxious to shoot and do not think. Keep both of your hands steady and squeeze the trigger slowly. We have been hunting these lands for many years and it is our patience that has helped us survive. You will learn this patience as I did, and your grandfather before me."

      Enuk looked at his son. Napachee had handsome traditional Inuit features: his straight black hair and wide cheekbones framed dark, wide-set almond eyes and a broad, but finely chiselled, nose. He had a strong stocky build, with broad shoulders and muscular arms and legs. His dark skin was tanned from the spring sun reflecting off the arctic snow. Enuk looked like an older version of his son, though he had shorter hair and a set, determined mouth.

      Napachee and his father had been out on the land for almost a week, hunting and camping as they went. Caribou were nearby, and they had been following them patiently. High in the treeless tundra, the wind seemed never-ending as it blew across the open expanse, but it packed the snow into a hard covering that supported a fully loaded snowmobile and sled.

      In the dead of winter the sun disappeared and the land was enveloped in twenty-four hours of darkness, but it was now May and the first signs of the arctic spring had begun to show themselves. It was only -10 today, and the sun was shining brightly off the snowy crystals beneath Napachee's feet. Both father and son wore caribou parkas, mittens and pants, warm woolly socks and fur boots called kamiks, each item made by Napachee's mother. Normally, he felt happy to be out with his father, but he had other things on his mind.

      "What if I can never learn to be patient?" Napachee asked. "What if I can never become the great hunter you think I will be?"

      "You will learn," Enuk said softly, smiling. "You will learn and you will feel the same pride all your ancestors felt before you."

      "What if I do not wish to learn?" Napachee blurted. "What if I do not wish to be a hunter?"

      "What is it? Why do you speak this way?" Enuk said, a worried expression on his face.

      Napachee was almost fourteen. He had known for some time that he was not interested in the land and the hunt. When he was younger he had loved going out with his father. Despite what he had just said he knew he was already a very good hunter, but now at night, when he lay awake in bed, he dreamed of greater things; things that were only found in large cities. He had seen these cities on TV and read about them in school. He was fascinated by what he might find there and eager for adventure.

      "I do not have the love of the land that you have," Napachee said quietly. "I have outgrown the North, and I have outgrown the hunt. I want to see a city, to live there, to experience something different."

      Enuk scowled at his son. He had sensed recently that Napachee was growing distant. From a young age his son had reminded Enuk of his own father. The boy had always been at home on the land and possessed a gift for tracking animals where others could not. To Enuk's dismay this had changed in the last year.

      "You will be a hunter!" Enuk replied firmly. "We have always been hunters and we always will be hunters! Do not argue with me."

      "But Father, I cannot—"

      "That