Durc's Descendants

Durc

'Durc,' a shadow casts over the hand axe I'm making, and I look up to see the Mog-ur, Goov, standing over me. 'Now that the Clan Gathering is over, our leader Broud has decided that it is time to pass over leadership to the son of his mate,' he indicates.

I nod my head, but do not let my eyes give away my thought that it is long past time.

Broud has been the leader for as long as I can remember, I know I was very young when Brun, the man who had taught me to hunt, passed it over to him. Brun, who had long since passed into the spirit world.

'He has decided that before the ceremony, that there should be one last hunt.'

I blink. Does Broad want me to join the hunt?

I stand up, the muscles in my leg seizing up slightly from being sat in one place for so long.

I am not a young man myself anymore, though my hair is still black, and my arms are strong, but like everyone in our clan, my legs have done too much walking.

Walking from abandoned cave to soon to be abandoned cave.

Every spring, since Broud became leader, we've had to look for a new one. Every summer we've found a cave, which during the winter, or at least too late in the summer, has proven to not be right.

A stream of rain water flowing down the centre of the cave that's made our belonging wet, and our lives cold.

The animals moving away so we have trouble getting enough food stored to last through the winter.

A fire that's scorched the earth.

It was like we had been cursed.

One winter we thought we'd found a perfect cave, thought the curse had finally been lifted, and that we would have good luck, only for an earthquake to kill half of those within the cave.

And so we had to look for another cave again.

Yes, I believe we've probably been cursed.

'He had told me that you are to stay behind to look after the old people and children,' he motions. 'But I too am to stay, I am too old now to join in with the hunting. I am to stay here to commune with the spirits.'

Why is he telling me this? I thought what the Mog-Ur did was not to share with anyone but his acolyte.

But then, his acolyte had just died this spring. From the fever that swept through our last cave, and made it unlucky. We had only just found this cave days before we left for the Clan Gathering.

'I will need some help,' he indicates, placing his hand on my shoulder.