Earth's Children is a registered trademark of Jean M. Auel and the books in the series, The Clan of the Cave Bear, The Valley of Horses, The Mammoth Hunters, The Plains of Passage, and The Shelters of Stone. This Fan Fic is for the simple enjoyment of fans of the Earth's Children series of books and myself, and has not been written for profit or to intentionally infringe on the registered trademark held by Jean M. Auel. Reproduction of this work for profit of any kind is expressly prohibited.
Introduction:
Ever wonder what happened to the Lion Camp and the rest of the Mamutoi after Ayla left? Well here you go.
Following a long conversation with my father about the Lion Camp, the Mamutoi, and its interesting cast of characters, I decided to write my own version of what happened to them after Ayla left. The following story is the result of these musings, the Lion Camp are by far my favorite people of The Earth's Children series.
The Mamutoi people as a whole were rife with turmoil over the changes and internal power struggles of the day, here is what happened to them.
This was written as an alternate book four of the series, Jean followed Ayla in her travels while I followed a young man named Brenan traveling to the Lion Camp. I have tried to stick with the canon Auel prescribed as closely as possible, and have written this in book form. There is a measure of sometimes rather graphic violence in a few places, and I have tried to treat this story with the 'rugged reality' of the times. This is a long story, and will take a while to tell.
Thanks for reading.
Here we go.
willieworks01
Brenan's Search
Chapter One:
Footprints in the Snow
His mind wandered as he walked, the wind was gusting and beginning to get colder as he pulled his wolverine hood back over his head. He slipped the ermine mittens off his hands letting them dangle by the thongs tied through a loop on the lower portion of the sleeves of his reindeer parka and tied the drawstring of the hood. As he exhaled he noticed that he could see his breath in the waning sunlight. He would need to make camp soon.
How could she ride on the back of a cave lion, he asked himself again. The wolf and the horses were awe-inspiring enough, even mystical and certainly frightening, but the biggest cave lion he had ever seen-and she had ordered him away from that girl and then climbed on his back and actually rode him. He shook his head as he pondered the thoughts that had dominated his mind so many times since witnessing that astounding scene, slipping his warm mittens back on as he walked on towards a stand of willows up ahead of him.
The willows began a few yards from a small stream whose waters were lightly frozen along the near bank. The stream was only a few body lengths across, and it seemed to be no more than knee deep at its deepest point. The young man surveyed the terrain, noticing that upstream the graceful willows began to give way to a group of alder mixed with a few fir and maple, and the grassy plain that he had been crossing was beginning to turn hilly and dotted with scrub brush. A movement caught his eye as a rabbit crouched low, its ears laying down along its body, lay mostly hidden between two small willows at the streams edge. He smiled and waved his hand in a motion that almost looked as though he was casting a spear side armed which startled the rabbit into a mad scrambling dash to freedom.
It didn't take long to set up his small sleeping tent and to gather enough dry wood and twigs to start and fuel a small fire from the magical firestone that the foreign woman had introduced to the Mamutoi at that fateful summer meeting where he had begun to doubt almost everything that he had previously thought were the basic truths of life. He took a long drink from the stream, and gazed in awe at the intense beauty of the setting sun in all its colorful glory for a while, succumbing to its pacifying grandeur. He set his back frame and sling of small spears inside the near opening and slid feet first into the tent made from the hide of a small aurochs, held up by a single forked willow branch. From a leather pouch in his back frame he pulled a small traveling cake of grain and roe deer meat, sweetened with maple syrup and relaxed to eat and reflect on the circumstances that had led him to the peaceful bank of this wooded stream.
His name was Brenan, eldest son of Priva, first healer, mated to Bremac, first flint worker of the Wolf hearth of the Lynx camp of the Mamutoi. Brenan had been first acolyte of the Lynx camp Mamut for a little over two years, that is until that last summer meeting. The aftermath of the meeting had left him with more questions than his Mamut could even begin to answer, and the answers he got were not convincing or comforting to his tormented soul. Brenan had always been an overly inquisitive boy, which was one reason that his Mamut had taken him on as an acolyte. He had stayed with the Lynx camp for almost two full moons after returning from the summer meeting before he had decided to find the answers to his questions on his own. He had just begun his sixteenth year.
He chewed the tangy traveling cake with relish, Priva was a master of the art of preparing food that was both tasty and filling, and though she was completely disheartened with his decision to leave she had provisioned him well for his journey. Brenan took stock of his present situation as he ate. It was almost the beginning of the winter season, and by his own choice, he was alone and on his own. He was a good hunter, trained from an early age by old Grodec, the best tracker and solo hunter of the Lynx camp. He knew a lot about the healing magic, taught to him from his mother, as well as how to prepare a tasty meal. But most important of all he had learned how to start a fire easily, old Grodec had found an abundance of firestones near the river that ran close to the Lynx camp, and he had become pretty proficient with the new spear-thrower that the foreign man that left with Ayla had brought to the Mamutoi. Probably, he thought, the best in the camp. Brenan was a decent flint knapper as he had, after all, lived at the hearth of Bremac. And Brenan knew the ways of the spirit world, at least he had been training to learn and understand the secrets contained therein. Now, however, it sometimes seemed that he knew nothing as fact anymore.
Old Mamut of the Lion camp had given him better answers to most of his many questions that had plagued him at the summer meeting than his own Mamut had, but it just didn't seem to be enough. Nothing seemed to be enough now. No knowledge was enough. Every answer he procured just brought out another question-or two. Brenan was dissatisfied with the teachings of the Mamutoi, of their very way of life, and he sought more. But more what, he asked himself for the hundredth time as he drifted off to sleep, the words of the old Mamut of the Lion camp still echoing through his mind. "Find your own truths, Mut will help you if you listen hard enough, keep your mind open, and endure Her many difficult tests."
Brenan woke as the sun was just visible on the horizon behind him, and he was eager to be on his way. He passed his morning water against a nearby willow, watching the steam rise off the yellow pool, and got a cool drink from the stream before breaking camp. The fire had long since burned out as he had not banked it to burn through the night, and the early morning air was cold. With all his possessions re-packed and slung over his back, a medium sized flint tipped throwing spear loose in his right hand, he started walking towards the trees ahead upstream. The sunrise was intensifying off his right shoulder, warming him as he walked. A squirrel chattered noisily from the branches of a tall, thin alder announcing his quiet approach. Three roe deer fled the far side of the stream at the sound of the squirrels warning, trotting away towards higher ground, Brenan watched their graceful retreat with a smile.
The stream was a popular watering hole, the tracks of several different grazing animals were fresh along its bank, as well as an abundance of wolf tracks. As he continued, the tracker in him noticed marmot and weasel signs as well. Brenan kept his senses sharp and alert as the trees became more dense and his line of sight diminished as he walked on. A beaver, slow to look up from the fallen sapling he was intently chewing on, fell to a hard flung spear. As Brenan cleaned and skinned the hapless beaver, he decided to go ahead and cook the whole thing to replenish his food supply. It was cold enough for cooked meat to keep for many days at a time if it was not kept too close to his warm body, and his back frame would hold it away from direct contact with him.
As the fire burned down he fashioned a spit and put the beaver on to cook. Brenan began the laborious process of scraping the fat and bloody veins and stringy tissue from the inner side of the hide. It would take several hours to fully cook the beaver, he had time to get the hide prepared with its brains to stretch it out later and finish the tanning process. He had prepared so many hides before, his mind wandered as he worked almost instinctively. If I can find the Lion camp, Old Mamut will help me with more of his wisdom, he thought, after all she was his adopted daughter. His insights to Ayla's power over wild animals would surely help him to better understand Mut's plan. Mut's plan, how did flatheads fit into the scheme of things? It had become painfully obvious to Brenan that flatheads were children of the Mother too, though this truth was definitely not shared by all the Mamutoi. This split amongst the different camps at the summer meeting was serious and growing. It wouldn't be long before the Mamutoi would officially split into two factions, Brenan somehow knew this to be true-and he also knew that it wouldn't be pretty. some camps were split internally and would probably not survive as whole units.
Pulling the beaver off the fire, he slid his flint knife from its side scabbard and sliced off a couple of large slabs of meat and laid them on a thin piece of leather. Brenan cut off a smaller slice of meat before placing the rest of the partially cooked beaver back over the fire. As his lunch morsel cooled, he thought about the directions given to him to the Lion camp from Frebec, hoping he was still on track. Frebec was an interesting man, he had told Brenan that without a doubt flatheads were human-and that they could talk using only their hands. In fact, the whole Lion camp knew this secret language-talking flatheads, this was just so much to take in. The fresh beaver meat was delicious, and he ate slowly savoring its flavor and warmth. Frebec had told him that Vincavec had also seen the light of Ayla's truth about flatheads. If, as headstrong and spiritually powerful as Vincavec was, he was convinced then why was it so hard for the rest of the councils to at least consider flatheads as people. The news of the in-fighting amongst the councils had started rumors of a faction war beginning-and it had spread like wildfire throughout the summer meeting. Several camps had left early, which was almost unheard of, and probably a notoriously bad omen.
Deep in thought, chewing the tender beaver, Brenan was startled by the sudden appearance of three wolves out of the corner of his eye. He froze trying to quickly assess the situation, old Grodec had taught him well, and he instinctively knew that the three wolves weren't alone. From behind him he heard, and felt, more company.
Fire! The thought jumped into his head, and he reached down and pulled a burning stick the size of his forearm out of the campfire. Standing slowly, he brandished the burning end like a lance out in front of him, swinging it in a slow arc as he tried to become larger and more formidable in all directions at once. The wolves backed off a few paces from their inherent fear of fire and smoke, seemingly to regroup.
Brenan took a few steps forward and slowly reached down and grabbed the small pile of the beavers innards and slung them towards the wolves out in front of him. They took the bait, and quickly disappeared into the woods, yipping a few times as they left, he knew the rest would follow and relaxed his grip on the burning stick. He had observed and even hunted wolves before, but after having seen Ayla's wolf, he had no desire to harm them except possibly in self defense. But he knew he would need to be more aware and a lot more careful if he was going to keep traveling alone.
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Brenan walked carefully over the small rocky ridge and looked out as the river spread out before him. It was just beginning to snow lightly in swirling flurries carried on the breeze as he trod a few steps off the bank of the fast moving river. He came to an unnatural pile of rocks and paused to examine it. Reading the signs that the pile represented before him, he now knew that the Lion camp was a days walk-straight ahead. The pile of rocks was also a dried food cache for emergencies, complete with a large bison hide that could be used as a tent if needed. The Mamutoi were an efficient people, and such emergency caches were common on well used trails and hunting areas.
Stopping to pull the last small slab of beaver meat from his back frame, he walked on eating as he did. He hadn't gotten very far when he saw a small finger of smoke out on the horizon before him, and he quickened his pace. The sun was just beginning to disappear as the Lion camp came into view before him.