Chapter Four
The Clan
Mog-ur watched the four stout men of the Clan struggle to pull the heavy raft down to the edge of the water. They dragged it over the ground by the long logs that stuck out past the rectangular, solid center section. When they reached the edge of the water, two men pulled off their foot covers and leggings, tossing them aside and grasping the extended poles of the raft. Wading into the cold, swift water, they stopped when the raft was projected out almost halfway into the river.
The river here was just a little wider than it had been further downstream where it narrowed through the rocky canyon. The opposite bank rose up quickly at first, with dark exposed mud half as tall as a man. The dark colored ground started leveling out it slowly and changed colors with the green grass that grew on the more level surface above the drop off.
The early morning sun was bright between the clouds, but the wind had picked up during the night and was gusting erratically and cool. Clouds were rolling in at a rapid pace carried on the high breeze out of the northeast and there were more than a few dark thunder heads among them, it was smelling more and more like rain. Imminent rain.
Mog-ur wanted to get the crossing behind them before the rain came. He knew that any amount of rain would fuel the swift river even more and make the crossing considerably more dangerous than it was now. No one in the Clan could swim more than a short distance at a time, and even that was difficult. Their stocky bodies and heavy bone structure worked against them in the water, offering very little natural buoyancy. This fact alone made all deep river crossings dangerous, and swift water and deep currents just complicated things all around. At least the river wasn't too wide here, but this current was strong, or so they had been warned.
Rug and Crag supervised the placement of the bundles of supplies, and helped the other men tie them down. They were placed in two rows down the center of the shorter width of the raft, leaving the front and rear clear. The long poles that they used to carry the bundles between them were stashed between the tied bundles, easily accessible.
With all their traveling supplies secured, there was still a good bit of space left clear on both ends of the vessel. Rug and Mog-ur stood together near the water and looked over the raft and the placement of all their earthly belongings. It would not do for them to lose anything, they already traveled with only the barest of necessities due to the nature and potential length of their journey. The soft, distant rumble of thunder from the northeast made both men look up at the sky.
'Are we ready?' Rug signed, looking back at the holy man.
'Yes, get the raft into place.'
Mog-ur took a deep breath, and turned to look back at his Clan. They all stood behind the raft, and he could see anticipation and a little anxiety in their faces. All except Brug. The young boy looked like he was about to go on his first hunt with the men, his deep brown eyes were everywhere and his excitement was obvious.
Rug looked at the hunters and made a gesture for them to assist him. Troog, Borg, and Draag all stepped up to the raft, and began to undress, tossing their clothes into a pile at the back of the raft.
Rug and Draag both stepped down into the cold water, working their way carefully in the slick mud to the front of the raft. They grasped the long extended poles that protruded out past the body of the raft and started pushing it deeper out into the river. The cold water raised goose flesh on their hairy, stocky bodies, and their powerful muscles flexed with the exertion of pushing against the heavy wood vessel.
The raft bobbed up and down, now completely floating in the water. The current on this side of the bank was not too strong, and the two men had little trouble holding it stationary.
Borg helped Ova step onto the edge of the raft, it dipped under her weight and she had to concentrate to keep her balance. She knelt down on the logs, feeling more secure on her knees than when she stood upright and took Ooga from Troog's outstretched arms. Borg helped Etra on next, and she crawled over the narrow pile of supplies and turned back to take Ooga from Aba. Ova made her way forward and sat down with Ooga between her and Etra. They positioned themselves in the center, leaning back against the bundles of supplies, holding on to the straps that held them down.
Crag and Brug were next on board, they went forward and sat flanking the women on the front corners of the floating platform. Borg and Troog helped Aba and Inca settle themselves onto the back of the raft. They faced forward, holding onto the straps that held the supply bundles secure. Troog walked gingerly into the water on the left side of the raft, Borg doing the same to the right. They took up positions standing at the ends of the long poles sticking out past the body of the raft at the rear, holding them tight to help steady the heavy raft.
Mog-ur stood alone on the bank, carefully observing the raft and his Clan. He reached up and grasped his amulet, closing his eyes and silently asked his totem, the grey wolf, for a safe crossing. The distant sound of thunder caused him to open his eyes and look toward the encroaching dark clouds, it was time. Mog-ur stepped down onto the raft next to Aba and got a good grip on the bundle tied down in front of him. He looked up at Rug who watched him board, and nodded.
Rug grunted, and he and Draag pushed hard against the long poles and began walking the raft out into the river. Borg and Troog held on to the ends of the poles until the raft was far enough away from shore for them to get behind them. As soon as they got into position, they grasped the poles and helped Rug and Draag push the raft on into deeper water.
The water reached Rugs chest pretty quickly as the bottom fell away, and he and Draag both wrapped their arms over the poles as their feet lost contact with the now rocky bottom. Borg and Troog both felt the raft start to turn and veer downstream, and pushed harder against the current to correct the rafts direction.
Rug and Draag started kicking their legs in the water, trying to push the raft further into the center of the river. Crag and Brug both leaned down over the edge of the logs and started to help pull the raft along, paddling with their hands, the cold water splashing over the logs and into their faces. The front of the raft bobbed in the water as the turbulence of the river increased.
Borg felt the raft pull him hard to the side when the front of the raft got caught up in the deeper water and the current pulled them harder downstream. The water was getting deeper and his footing began to slip along the slick rocks on the bottom. With a sudden lurch, he pulled his body up and slung his arms over the pole and started to kick with his legs. He could feel the raft being pulled to his right almost immediately, and kicked hard against the current.
Troog almost lost his grip on the pole when the raft turned as Borg lost contact with the bottom, the bottom slid past him, his feet losing all substantial contact. He reached up and wrapped his left arm over the pole, and the raft started to spin slowly. Troog managed to get his other arm up and started kicking for all he was worth.
The raft turned and headed downstream, pulled along by the swift water. It confused the four men in the water, and they had to try and kick forward at only the right times. The raft continued to turn slowly in the river, the bulk of the mens bodies helped to stabilize the raft slightly. They picked up speed as they were pulled farther down stream, but the current did pull them closer to the center of the river.
The heavy raft bobbed along in the rolling waves, splashing cold water over the edges of the logs. They picked up speed and the water rolled on the surface. The raft continued to turn in a slow, lazy circle as they were swept down stream.
Rug grunted loudly and the other three men took heed of his urging them to kick harder against the current. They managed to straighten the raft from its slow spin, and though the raft still pointed more down river than toward the opposite bank they managed to make a little progress in the right direction. They toiled on, kicking for all they were worth.
The swells on the surface began to grow, lifting first one end of the raft, then the other. Crag and Brug took a hard splash of water that hit them straight on as the raft dipped into a swell. The force of the water knocked Brug back and he lost his hold on the bundle of supplies behind him that he had his feet intertwined in. With his balance compromised, he fell forward, his strong hands slipping on the outer most log. Brug was falling overboard, face first. Ova let go of the braided rope with her right hand and grabbed the back of his tunic and pulled him back hard, the strength of the stocky woman of the Clan was enormous. Her grip held, and Brug got a firm grip on the edge of the raft and regained his balance. Ova held on to the braided rope that secured the bundles with her left hand, and held on to Brug's tunic with her right, Brug leaned back down and resumed paddling against the current with his hands.
The raft was now almost to the center of the river, but the river was slowly beginning to turn westerly. The swells grew even taller as their speed increased, splashing over the Clan as the raft dipped into the rushing water repeatedly. The ride got increasingly rougher, and the men in the water were starting to grow weary from their prolonged exertions. They kicked on, trying to gain momentum, but it was hard fighting the force of the river.
Mog-ur looked down river to see the large out crops of rock getting closer, he grunted and pointed toward the cragged bluff. All four men in the water saw what he pointed at, and redoubled their efforts. The raft moved a little further past the center of the river, a huge swell suddenly grasped the raft pushed the back of it around. They were now pointed directly at their destination.
Rug and Draag saw the bank in front of them and kicked harder, willing the raft to obey their efforts. Troog and Borg felt the raft moving forward against the current and pushed themselves even harder than they had been. Brug and Crag pulled with their hands, paddling furiously. Mog-ur felt the raft slow ever so slightly in the grasp of the swift water as it moved toward the shoreline that still seemed to be so far away.
The river began its slow turn in earnest now, narrowing and gaining speed as the ground grew rockier and higher on both banks. The raft bobbed over a large swell, and the men forced it farther east with a surge of power. The progress encouraged them, and they kicked on.
The eastern bank was getting closer, and they could see the river becoming more turbulent in front of them. The water was deep here, and powerful waves of the current reached all the way to the surface. The raft floated down stream sideways, pitching between the waves.
Etra lost her grip on the wet rope and started to fall sideways as a wave hit the raft from the left side. Mog-ur grabbed her by the arm and yanked her back into the bundles, she grabbed hold and held on.
Draag pushed against the log he clung to, kicking hard. He felt a sharp stab of pain when his foot hit an underwater rock, it threw his balance and momentum off and he grasped the pole to hang on. Just as he was about to try and warn Rug, Draag grunted and was pulled under, out of sight.
Draag felt both legs being pulled out from under him and began to lose his grip on the log. He just got a deep breath before the water swept him under. He was turning over and over under water, caught in the swift deep water current. His shoulder slammed into another submerged rock and he would have screamed out in pain if he hadn't been holding his breath. The searing pain made him kick out involuntarily, and he felt the bottom with his feet. He pushed off the rocks as hard as he could, his chest constricting with his efforts. Draag lost half the air he held in his lungs in a single gasp, and he knew he had to get to the surface soon, or not at all.
Rug relaxed his body for a moment, looking for Draag. When he did, his feet dropped down and he felt the rocky bottom. He felt for a foot hold, and pushed against the pole with all his might. The raft lurched forward and turned at the same time, the aft corners heading back down river. Rug pushed harder, pulling against the rafts new direction. The muscles in his arms and legs screamed at him in their exhaustion, he gritted his teeth and pushed on.
Draag saw the blurry light above him and pulled his heavy body toward it, he lost another bit of air and could feel his chest imploding. The pain wracked him, but he pulled harder and harder.
Troog and Borg found the bottom, and pushed forward with a vengeance. The raft tilted, caught by a large swell and Rug pushed again.
Draag kicked hard with his weary legs, but he could feel his strength starting to wane. The surface didn't look any closer, and he reached up with both hands to pull again. Draag was almost out of breath, and fear pushed him to pull again, and again.
Rug stumbled and fell over the pole, his head going under water as his waist hung on the log. Troog and Borg pushed forward and Rug pulled back and his feet again made contact with the rocky bottom. Mog-ur hopped off the raft, and pushed against the back of the raft between Troog and Borg. Crag hopped off the front of the raft and grasped the logs and pulled toward the bank.
Draag's vision began to blur, he pulled one last time as he fought to stay conscious. His head broke the surface of the water, and he gulped a huge lung full of air. He tried to stay on top of the water, but his legs were still in the grasp of the currents and they pulled him under. Draag tumbled under water, the strong current spinning his body around, panic kicked him in the gut and it gave him a surge of strength and he pulled again with both arms, and kicked with all his might.
Rug stepped away from the raft as the edge of it hit the rocks on the bank. He looked back to see Draag's head break the surface and could see his friend take a deep breath then go under. He leaned over the body of the raft and grabbed one of the two long poles between the bundles of supplies. It took a moment to pull it free, then he waded back out into the rushing water on the far side of the raft heading downstream.
Mog-ur and Borg made their way to the rocky bank, and picked up the front logs of the raft and strained to pull it up and over a wide boulder. They succeeded on their second try, the raft was now well out of the dangerous currents. Brug hopped ashore, then turned to assist the women as they all made their way up onto the rocks.
Rug looked out over the surface of the river, trying to see any sign of Draag. The moving water made it impossible to see into its depths at all. He waded down river and the water got deeper, quickly reaching up almost to the center of his chest. The strong moving water pulled at his stocky body.
Draag's head broke the surface of the water again, briefly. He gasped and got a fresh breath of air, and went back under almost as fast. His strength was almost depleted, but still he fought the current. Pulling with his arms and kicking with all the energy he had left, he struggled toward the shoreline. Draag felt his body twist suddenly as his foot caught inside a large crack of a submerged boulder, his upper body turned and he tried to kick his foot free. The powerful current pulled him sideways, his eyes clinched tightly shut as a sharp pain was accompanied by a deep crack as the lower leg bone shattered. Draag kicked out with his uninjured leg and pushed off the boulder which dislodged his trapped foot and shoved his body back to the blessed air above.
A swift side current caused by the large under water boulder pulled him head over heels into shallower water. Draag was worn out physically, and allowed the water to pull him on into the shallows. He felt the rocky bottom and struggled to his hands and knees, the pain in his chest and leg wracking him. His head just cleared the rushing water and he breathed deeply to try and regain his strength, the cool air tasting more delicious than anything he had ever known.
Rug saw Draag crawl into the shallows and rushed over to help him as fast as he could. Crag and Troog followed, leaving Borg and Mog-ur to keep the raft stable against the rocks. Rug found it difficult to get to Draag quickly, the water was hard to walk through and the bottom was slick and hard to keep his footing.
Draag gasped for air, filling his lungs deeply over and over. His stomach suddenly cramped him hard, and he threw up violently into the rushing water below him. Every part of his body ached, and the sharp pain in his leg prevented him from even trying to stand up. He felt his arms begin to tremble from holding his body out up, the adrenalin rush he had experienced was subsiding rapidly leaving him shaky and very weak.
Rug finally got to him, and Draag winced as Rug tried to help him up onto his feet. Rug saw the grimace of pain and let his arms go gently.
'I hurt my leg.' Draag signed awkwardly with one hand as he held it out of the water only long enough to make himself understood.
Rug nodded, and waited until the other men arrived.
Mog-ur found a nice flat area devoid of gravel half way around the side of the craggy bluff, and they set up camp. All their gear was untied and brought up from the raft, then the men pulled the raft up onto the rocky shore, completely out of the water. They had a fire of driftwood going in no time, and the tent was set up with the rocky bluff rising up behind it.
Rug and three of his hunters carried Draag up to the camp and made him comfortable as possible with folded sleeping furs leaned up against a large slanting rock. He leaned back, reclining his battered, sore body. The rest of the men had gotten dressed, but Rug waited patiently for Etra to work her healing magic on him, still nude.
Etra was all over the camp, she had Troog cutting three semi-straight pieces of smooth driftwood into equal length pieces almost as long as his own shins. She had Inca heating rocks to get some water boiling, and Aba was cutting wide strips of leather full length from a cured aurochs hide that had been de-haired.
Mog-ur sat on his knees next to Draag signing over him eloquently, looking up at the cloudy sky and calling on the spirits to assist in driving away the evil spirits from Draag's injured leg. The hunters all watched on with interest, Mog-ur was a master and his mystical power awed them all. Brug sat at Draag's feet, looking on intently, his dark brown eyes showing his concern for the Clan leader.
Etra gathered three empty medicine bowls and a large hand full of small skins, used mostly for washing, and set them to the side of Draag. She was careful to not disturb Mog-ur as he worked over Draag. She pulled her wolverine skin medicine bag off her wide belt, and sat down beside Draag, then opened the top flap and began rummaging through the bag. She pulled several small leather packets out and laid them onto a small skin she spread out on the ground.
Mog-ur finished signing to the spirits, and sat back to watch Etra work. He could see where the leg was damaged, it was still pretty straight, but a deep purple color was spreading down the leg from just below his knee. A narrow, but deep looking gash ran across his shin a hand width down past his knee. There were also an abundance of cuts and scrapes, some of them continued to bleed, though none very heavily.
Etra took the basket of almost boiling water from Inca, and Aba brought her a nice sized stack of wide strips of leather. Etra opened two of the packets, and sprinkled measured amounts of each into an empty wooden bowl. As she dipped a cup full of water from the basket, Draag stared at the intricate carvings of the mammoth and the cave bear that adorned the sides of the bowl. His mind eased a bit, thinking of their friends from the two camps of the Others that had given Etra these fine bowls for the healing elixirs and potions she would make in them.
Draag watched the medicine woman dip a short knuckle bone into the bowl and stir the contents, the color changed slowly to a soft yellow. Etra dipped a small skin into the liquid and started to clean and examine his damaged right shin. Draag clenched his jaw against the burning he felt from the open gash. His body temperature was almost back up to normal from the extreme cold of the river, and he felt things much more acutely now that the numbness of the cold left him. He stifled a groan when she repositioned his leg, pulling his foot back enough to leave working clearance between the leg and the fur spread out on the ground.
When Etra finished cleaning the lower leg, she set the rag aside and began to examine the top bone with probing, strong fingers. The actual break itself was almost hard to locate, and Etra thought this a good sign. The bone appeared to be back in the correct position, and she grasped both sides of it with her fingers, following the bone on each side. Draag flinched at the sudden stab of pain this caused, Etra had strong hands and she probed deeply.
She sat back for a moment to think, digging deep within her memories for more information. Mog-ur watched her, instinctively knowing what she was doing. He had once taken her on a deep exploration within her most ancient memories with the aid of the magic meadow mushrooms. Mog-ur had directed Etra deeper and farther into her own mind than she had ever been, and they had discovered that some of her most distant ancestors had been fully trained medicine women.
When their Clan had been devastated by the renegade band of the Others, their medicine woman had perished. Mog-ur had persuaded Tressie of the Aurochs Camp to train Etra to be a medicine woman, and with the help of the mushroom experience, Etra had learned well. Better than he could have ever reasonably expected.
If only there hadn't been that one odd side effect, Mog-ur thought to himself as he watched her meditate. Ever since that spiritual trip into Etra's deep memories, Mog-ur had encountered feelings of which could have only had come from a woman. It always caught him by surprise, and though interesting to see and better understand how Clan women felt, it annoyed him to no end whenever he had these insights into their thought patterns.
"Rug", I need some of that real black, slick mud from the river.' Etra signed to their leader. Mog-ur was caught off guard at her polite request, a woman asking any man, much less a leader, to do anything was, well, unusual. Un-Clan like even.
If it bothered Rug, he didn't show it. The leader of the Clan thought only of the health and well being of his hunter, no other thoughts crossed his mind. He nodded to his medicine woman and got up and grabbed a small skin and trotted off toward the river. Crag got up and followed him.
Etra looked to Troog who was still scraping a rough spot off one of the thin driftwood branches she had asked him to cut with the flat side of his flint knife. He looked up at her when he felt her eyes on him, then handed her the three sticks. She took the sticks and examined them one by one. Etra took the two that were the most similar, and set them on each side of Draag's shin, testing them for proper length. The smooth sticks pleased her, and the one left was just a tad longer than the other two.
Setting the sticks aside, she picked up the largest medicine bowl and added ingredients from three different pouches from her medicine bag. Etra poured the bowl full of hot water and mixed the new potion thoroughly, it made a light tan colored liquid. She dipped one of the wide strips of leather from the pile into the steaming bowl, wetting it out completely. Etra wrung out the excess, then carefully placed the edge of it on Draag's leg at the knee. She would have liked to have made a pain numbing potion to give him, but for so minor an injury he would be insulted at the mere offer. Clan men masked pain, and took pride in doing so.
Draag tried not to move, but the heat and the stinging solution on the open wound made him flex the muscles in his leg. Etra waited until the hunter was still, then started wrapping the wide strip around the leg tightly. When the strap was at its end, she turned and dipped another one into the tan liquid, and continued the process of wrapping the entire leg from the knee to the top of his ankle.
Rug and Crag returned with a bulging skin full of shiny black mud. They set it down next to Etra, and went back to their seats.
The soothing effects of the leather wrapping set Draag's mind at ease again. He had complete faith in the ability and skills of his medicine woman, he had seen her teacher in action.
Etra pulled the skin of mud closer, and reached in and pulled out a hand full. She worked the dark mud between her hands, adding water that Inca poured on it from a cup as needed until the slurry was the consistency that she wanted. Etra started coating the wrappings on Draag's leg, starting just above his ankle. She worked the mud carefully into a uniform thickness until she had it all used up, then smoothed it with the palms of her hands. Grabbing another hand full of mud, she started the process again, working her way up the leg.
There was still a little of the mud left when Etra had finished. She had a smooth coating of mud a little thicker than her hand from just below the knee to the top of the ankle.
Etra picked up one of the smooth sticks and pressed it into the mud on one side of the shin, she settled it almost flush with the mud coating. She then picked up the second stick and did the same thing on the opposite side of the leg. The third stick was set into the mud centered over Draag's calf muscle.
Mog-ur watched her with an interested eye, somehow this all seemed so vaguely familiar to him. He was sure that he had never seen it done, though, it must be something he saw in Etra's deep memories.
Etra added a large portion of a dark brown powder from another pouch into the large medicine bowl. After adding another cup full of hot water, she mixed it up with the knuckle bone. The mixture was thinner than she wanted it, so she added more of the brown powder and stirred it in. The liquid thickened a bit, and Etra dipped a strap of leather into it and soaked it in the hot mix.
Draag could feel the pain subsiding rapidly, and watched Etra wrap the mud covered leg with three layers of crisscrossed leather dipped in the brownish potion. His confidence in her soared, she seemed to be completely sure of what she was doing.
Etra went back to cleaning his other scratches and abrasions, the one on his shoulder where he had been pulled into the boulder made him flinch a few times. The skin was scraped and raw, and the bruises looked to be pretty deep and painful. She finished up quickly, and looked to both Rug and Mog-ur.
"Draag" must stay off leg for two days.' Her signs were confident, but she lowered her eyes as soon as she finished.
Mog-ur and Rug both nodded, and Draag couldn't have felt more relieved. After such a frightening river crossing, Mog-ur and Rug were more than willing to take a break and rest up a little before continuing on.
'Mud must dry, leather must harden-then can walk.' Etra didn't look up as she signed to her leader and Mog-ur. Inside, she felt a wave of satisfaction. The knowledge was there, there for the taking when she needed it.
Thunder cracked following a bright bolt of lightning that crossed the sky directly above the camp. The rain began, softly at first, then gaining strength gradually. The tent was positioned well and most of the runoff from the bluff passed by without going into the tent. Lightening and thunder continued for a while, and the rain fell steadily.
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Dawn broke in a clear blue sky, mists rising off the rolling surface of the river, colored softly by the rising sun. The water level was higher than it had been the day before, and the river was brown and cloudy.
Draag woke up covered by a thin sheen of sweat, no one had gotten very much sleep during the night. He pulled the sleeping fur off his upper body, and the cool air of the morning gave him goose flesh from one end to the other. Draag looked down at his right leg, the wraps and packed mud felt a bit constrictive. He reached down to touch the skin strips and was surprised to find them hard and stiff. Really stiff, the potion Etra soaked them in must have caused this, he thought, how unusual. The ground beneath him was wet and soggy, and he had a strong urge to relieve himself.
Everyone else was still asleep, and Draag looked at Etra asleep beside him. Her medium colored brown hair was loose and covered most her face in curly waves. As much as he hated to disturb her, his need was imminent. Draag reached over with his right hand and touched her shoulder gently.
Etra woke up instantly, and pulled her hair away from her face. She saw his discomfort and had a good idea of his need. Etra rolled over and got up, pausing to give him a quick sign that signaled her return.
Draag took a deep breath, and found that his expanding chest pressed on his tight bladder even more. The relief on his face was obvious when Etra returned with a small woven grass basket and knelt beside him. She helped him roll onto his side, Draag supported himself by holding onto her shoulders and Etra took his swelling member in her hand and aimed it for him. Draag closed his eyes, the situation was odd, but his bladder screamed at him for release.
Etra took the basket outside to empty it when Draag had finished, and was astounded by the beauty of the dawn. Mist covered the rocky ground as it rose up the side of the bluff in thin wisps between the taller rocks, and everything sparkled as the low sun glistened off the droplets of water that covered everything. She stood still, taking in the beauty of the morning listening to the soothing sounds of the song birds singing in the new day, knowing that it wouldn't last very long.
**********
Crag led the hunters out on a reconnaissance mission around the bluff to the southeast following a morning meal of dried meat and grain mash. The men trotted in single file, snaking their way through the rocky ground at a pace that they could keep up for hours. The four of them all carried their favorite flint tipped spears, with an extra spear strapped across their backs.
Mog-ur stood at the edge of the camp with Brug, watching the hunters leave. They were out of sight in no time, and he put his hand on the young boys shoulder to get his attention. Brug took one last lingering look, then looked up at the holy man.
'Hunt the river bank to the north,' Mog-ur signed to the anxious young man. 'The hunters may not be successful, I hunger for fresh meat.'
The look of satisfaction on Brug's face replaced the frustration he felt because he was not yet a recognized Clan hunter. He nodded to the Mog-ur and turned and scampered into the tent to fetch his own spears.
Mog-ur walked back to the fire, and sat down next to Draag who leaned back against the side of a smooth boulder. Draag looked uncomfortable with his leg wrapped and plastered with the heavy river mud, but he was glad to have the Mog-ur's company. It was hard for him to sit by while his hunters went out without him, Draag felt worthless.
Ooga walked over and reached out to Mog-ur, he helped the little girl settle into his lap. She reached up and tugged on his beard gently, then lay her head against his chest and wrapped her small arms around the barrel shaped chest of the older man. Ooga looked at Draag, her deep brown eyes shining and so full of life and innocence. Draag felt a flush of warmth from the child's peaceful, contented stare. It reminded the Clan hunter of their purpose, and for a moment his lingering feelings of his own inadequacies subsided a bit, then began to fade away all together.