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wet
woollen jacket beneath the loaded pack drifted away from the
man as he stretched erect.
    The door opened without a sound when he threw back the
animal skin to reveal a black, oblong hole. He fastened the
bottom end of the skin door above the opening. His frame filling
the entrance, Mattie had to double over to step inside. Walking to
the cold, grey ash firepit, he knelt down. Over time, the constant
use of this fireplace had worn and burned a shallow hole in the
earth, so that now it was below the level of the floor.
    Taking some thinly crushed birch bark and dried yellow
mosses, he laid them on a larger piece of birch placed on the
dead ashes. He placed small twigs and then larger ones on top.
Rising, he returned outside, picked up his pack with one hand,
and walked back to the fireplace. From deep inside the pack he
found a well-tied pouch, from which he removed a small wooden
box. From inside it he drew a rectangular piece of steel and a dull
grey, crescent-shaped piece of chert.
    Creating a small hole inside the crushed starter pile and with
the steel in his right hand, Mattie made a sudden, rapid scrape
against the sharp edge of the chert. He was rewarded with an
instant spray of yellow sparks, which fell among the waiting firestarter. Bending over the smouldering tinder, he blew a long,
soft breath. The glow became a flaring burst of fire. He carefully
placed the nest of the prepared kindling over it and watched as it
smoked, then blazed into life. And as simple as that, Mattie had a
warm campfire going.
    The smoke milled around the fire just above floor level at
first, but as the heat increased, the smoke spiralled upward, until
it slowed and sought an exit around the blackened poles. The fire
snopped and burned steadily. Now the new light flickered along
the inward-slanting walls of the wigwam. Shadows appeared
where there had been none before.
    As Mattie rose away from the fire, his silhouette preceded him,
reaching like a stealthy apparition to the height of the dwelling.
Just above his head and turning slowly on their tethers with the
rising heat were several large, smoke-cured trout, as well as the
remains of two half-eaten smoked salmon.
    Reaching up with his knife, Mattie cut a large piece from
one of the trout and chewed the reddish-brown flesh. He was
starved. Opposite the trout and hanging without turning were the
remains of a hindquarter of caribou meat. It too had been cured
over time by campfire smoke, its outer skin crusted to a deep,
leathery brown.
    While relishing the taste of the smoked trout, Mattie cut a
piece from the caribou haunch. The inner meat was a succulent
pink and he cut away a generous portion. Sitting beside the fire
with his knees raised, the tall Indian’s silent form on the wall
made only slight motions as his hand brought pieces of meat and
fish to his mouth.
    Stacked neatly near the doorway was a high cache of cured
animal skins. Placed on the very top and with its eyeless head
and tufted black ear tips facing the fire was the rich, silver-brown
hide of a lynx. Its skin was spread-eagled over the pile of hides,its stumpy, black-tipped tail dangling over the edge of the stack.
Above the hides and hanging from several of the rafter poles all
around were an array of steel traps with fierce-looking teeth.
    Opposite the furs and nearer the fire was a narrow raised
sleeping mat. It was made entirely from the soft ends of green
fir boughs that had faded a bit. The natural mattress was stitched
and interlaced skilfully with the rich-smelling boughs. A heavy
blanket sewed entirely from the hides of several caribou and with
the outer hair still intact was folded on one end of the sleeping
mat.
    The simple, raw dwelling place smelled of leather hides and
an unmistakably animal scent, earthy odours from the warm dirt
floor, the rich, cured meat and fish, and fire smells of wood and
heat. The place had a smell of warmth. The smell was a natural
human-animal blend.
    His hasty snack