Chapter Twelve
Fresh Provisions and a Valley of Plenty
Part One
The low hillside covered with scattered tufts of short grass was slick with mud and morning dew. More than a few people slipped, slid, and went roughly to their knees on the way up. The storm had come through two days ago, and the Clan had endured all the hardships of traveling through the still wet countryside. Swollen feeder creeks, muddy bottoms, and more than a few flooded areas in the flats. The river banks were way too muddy to walk beside, so Rug had taken them inland a little way into the slopes of the hills.
The humidity had been absolutely sweltering and even though the sun had been bright and strong since the storm, the ground in the river bottoms was still saturated and very slow to dry out. Every member of the Clan wore only a small skin tied around their waists and foot coverings, sweat streamed down their hairy bodies. The southern winds were brisk and gusting, and Mog-ur worried that more rain could be on the way, though so far the skies were still relatively clear.
Rug stood at the crest of the hill and lowered the heavy pole off his shoulder, Borg lowered the rear of the pole at the same time. He looked back to watch the rest of his Clan work their way up the short hill. Rug made a quick sign to Borg to relax here and to wait.
Brug walked beside Mog-ur who again had rear guard duty. Brug watched the Mog-ur's feet as he walked, he seemed to be the only one not slipping and sliding on the slick ground. Mog-ur angled his lead foot to be perpendicular to the hillside, digging the outside of his foot into the soft ground as he walked. Brug tried to imitate him with relative success.
Mog-ur noticed Brug looking at his feet, and watched the young man begin to ape him. I have never known a more curious lad in all my life, he thought to himself, watching the boy strive to master this way of walking. He could probably master any skill, be sufficient at anything he is taught, the boy could even possibly be a Mog-ur one day. What an intriguing thought, he mused.
Brug's first steps were a little on the clumsy side and he almost lost his balance once or twice, but he managed to get the hang of it in pretty short order. His grip increased and he felt a deep sense of satisfaction walking more easily now beside the old holy man. Brug looked up to Mog-ur almost as a father figure, at least since they had left the Aurochs Camp and Branag behind.
The Clan congregated at the top of the hill, and dropped their loads to rest. The women passed around fresh water and everyone took a drink and relaxed. They all looked down to the lush, slightly muddy valley below.
Green grass, berry covered bushes, and a lot more trees than they were used to seeing spread out before them between large patches of brown mud. A small band of dark colored horses took off from the far left of them, scampering quickly out of sight through the trees and over the rise. A lone rhinoceros grazed to the far southwest, several antelope watched them with wary eyes off to her right.
A wide, brown colored creek ran through the bottom, twisting and turning between the brush and trees. To the southwest it pooled into a wide, muddy pond with the help of a large beaver dam. An abundance of ducks and geese swam around on the outskirts of the pond, diving and eating the submerged vegetation. A huge megaceros stag lay in the cool shallows near the dam, watching the strangers at the top of the hill warily. A fat water snake swam by the stag, and dove underwater and out of sight.
Brug looked at each group of visible animals, and spotted a wily tuft eared lynx slinking through a line of dark green brush on the far side of the creek. Hunting possibilities went through his mind, at least two different potential plans formed for each target. There was no doubt in his mind he could take any of these animals, well, except maybe for the rhino.
'We should be able to get over that hill before dark.' Borg signed to Rug, who nodded in agreement.
Rug looked at his Clan, one by one. They were all in good traveling shape, and with the brief rest they were all ready to go again. He was proud of his people, they were all strong and dedicated to this difficult quest.
'Let's go.' He signed and leaned down to pick up his end of the heavy pole.
**********
Thanks to a nice wide game trail they came across a third of the way up the far incline, the Clan reached the top of the next hill considerably quicker than they normally would have.
Rug was the first to be able to see over the brush and down into the next valley. He sucked in his breath at the sight, it was huge, wide and lush, and covered with game. The center of the valley floor and well up into the next rise was carpeted with light green and tan colored, knee high grass that looked to be wheat. The floor of the valley was dotted with trees that bordered a good sized creek on both sides. A small pond formed off to their west where the creek turned back to the south, reeds and a taller variety of cane grew all along the far banks.
Game was everywhere he looked, and Rug felt his heart start to pound in his chest at all he saw. Aurochs, bison, and an abundance of different types of deer and antelope grazed throughout the wide valley, and they weren't alone. A herd of horses, a trio of moose with two gangly legged young, a small band of onager, and a lone male lion stood out in the far reaches of the heavily populated valley. An eagle and three smaller hawks circled lazily above on the currents, along with several sharp eyed vultures.
The terrain was spotted with deep patches of darker green areas, and a few drop offs of jagged rock stuck out of the far hillside. This contrasted with the light green carpet with a pleasant dark grey, complete with shadows. Wild flowers colored the valley in strips and clumps, especially on the far slope with every bright color of the rainbow. A natural spring flowed from one of the jagged outcrops, flowing down the hillside in a snaking path between the trees to the bottom of the valley before emptying into the creek. Several of these trees were heavy with young apples and one even had pears.
'Quiet, stay low.' Rug quickly signed to Borg after they dropped the pole quietly to the ground between them. He turned and passed on the message back to those who followed closely behind him.
Rug gathered his hunters around him behind the cover of the brush at the top of the hill. They all scrutinized the scene below them carefully. It was very quiet and still for a long, anxious moment. The hilltop to their right curved off to the southwest and grew steeper as it went.
'We could get to either side of those two mountain goats, and circle them.' Brug signed to Crag, with Rug squatted down beside him.
Crag and Rug both looked to where the youngest hunter of his Clan had been looking, they saw nothing. After watching for a moment, they both spied a subtle movement at the same time, and finally located the two horned goats. They were on the edge of a rocky drop off, surrounded by tall brush and scattered evergreens. After looking over the terrain closely, both of them came to the conclusion that this might be the easiest possible target to get into position for from here.
Rug gave Crag a questioning look. Crag looked back out over the valley at the other available potential targets. He studied the ground cover around the groups of animals, and the cover between them. The more he looked, the more the goats looked to be a better and more suitable target. Crag looked back to Rug and nodded, a proud twinkle in his deep brown eyes. He turned and looked directly at Brug, staring at the young man hard at first, then softening his gaze.
'How will we hunt these goats?' Crag signed to Brug.
Rug and Crag watched Brug closely, seeing how the youngest hunter would answer. It was a test of sorts, and both men were curious about the depth of his confidence and hunting acumen would be revealed.
Brug was caught off guard, the hunt leader was actually asking him to lay out a hunt for the hunters of the Clan. He took a deep breath and went over the plan he was working on in his mind one last time, it still seemed sound. Brug looked from Crag to Rug, then back again, they were serious. He saw them waiting patiently for him to answer, and he geared up his courage and dropped his gaze to the ground in front of him and grasped his amulet in his left hand. Brug felt the familiar objects inside the slightly weathered bag and took comfort from them as always and he took one more deep breath, then looked back up to face Crag and Rug.
'We need to split up into two groups first, and Troog will need to go on ahead of us down to the...'
**********
Mog-ur and Draag led the women along the crest of the hill to the southeast for a while before they went back up and over the top of the crest of the hill. The women managed to carry the poles as well as their own packs and bundles. Going was slow, but the progress was steady.
Draag pointed out a large stand of trees near a crook in the creek to the southeast, and he and Mog-ur led them toward it. They reached the trees and stopped there to make camp for the night. Even short handed, they daily chore of making camp went quickly and efficiently and everything was completed except for the lighting of the fire before too long. There was still a good bit of daylight left, the sun still well above the hill top to the west.
Etra took all the women except for Ova off on a foraging mission. Ova stayed to watch after Ooga and to tend to the men. Rug had told them not to light the fire until the sun touched the horizon, and they had plenty of time yet.
**********
The hunters saw the tendrils of smoke from the fire off to the northeast and veered toward it through the brush. Two mountain goats dangled by the hooves from spears, one between Troog and Borg, and the other between Crag and Brug. Crag held his end of the spear in the crook of his elbow to keep it almost level with Brug's shoulder. Rug led them back, and couldn't have been prouder, he had top have the most proficient hunters of all the Clans.
The hunt had played out perfectly, and the basic plan that Brug had made worked to perfection. Troog had snuck down and situated himself well past the goats and got into a blocking position, while the other two pair of hunters flanked them from each side through the cover of low lying brush.
Brug and Rug hit the larger goat at almost the exact same time from opposite sides, dropping him after only a few clumsy bounds. Borg had caught the other goat with a less than lethal shot to the back of the hip, and the goat had leapt forward just as Crag loosed his own spear and he had missed the goat completely. The wounded goat jumped to his left and ran down hill and straight to Troog who was hidden in the middle of a berry covered bush. He jumped up and caught the goat full in the chest as he charged forward in a panic, running in an awkward gate and listing badly to his right. Troog's spear rolled him, and he was dead by the time Troog got to him.
The hunters shared the liver of the larger goat, giving Brug the honor and status of the first taste. Rug announced that both kills were credited to all the hunters, and he gave Brug the added status of having planned the successful hunt. Crag was impressed with the depth of the wound from Brug's spear, it didn't quite match Rugs, but it was deep enough to kill.
Brug walked with a light step despite the swaying load on his shoulder, he couldn't have been much happier. He felt a true comradery with these men he had known all his life for the first time. They had been proud of him before, but now he felt like one of them, the lowest ranked hunter of course, but one of them all the same.
**********
The smells from the cooking food permeated the area in no time as darkness slowly blanketed the valley. A long back strap swung down over the flames suspended from the spit, crackling and popping. A mash of whole wheat and barley, sweetened with thin slices of the very tart, but not yet ripe apples hung from a tripod at the edge of the fire.
Tea was passed around by Ooga, and most of the men relaxed at the fire, content to watch the food cook and the women work. The breeze was sporadic at best here in the bottom of the valley, and the smoke from the fire hung low around them before dissipating slowly as the upper air currents pulled it up and away from the camp.
Brug and Inca scraped the goat hides, and Crag sat near them and watched, sipping tea. He still had a hard time doing anything that was normally considered by the Clan to be women's work, though Brug had no problem with it at all. For him, it was something else he wanted to know how to do, just another skill to learn and master.
Etra tended to Draag's cast, it was starting to show definite signs of wear and she didn't think it would last too much longer. She cut away the top layer of skin and wrapped it with a fresh skin around the calf and down to the top of his ankle and tied it off. The moon wasn't yet in the correct phase for her to remove the cast yet, and she wondered how much longer it would stand up to the grueling wear and tear of their daily travels. Draag seemed to tolerate the cast well enough, and he was used to walking with it but Etra was afraid to remove it prematurely. She must think on this problem, the answer must be in her memories somewhere.
Crag was still with Brug and Inca when Etra checked his arm. The wound was healing well, and she left the bandage off for the night. Crag flexed his fingers for her, and she questioned him about how much pain he had. The staunch older man just grunted, waving his hand in dismissal at any mention of pain. Etra was not surprised, but she would still add a little of that yellow powder to his tea after the evening meal. What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him, or his pride.
A soft gust of wind blew through, rustling the leaves and Brug and Crag both looked back to the fire. The smell of cooking meat pulled at their stomachs, reminding them anew of the depths of their hunger. Crag got up and walked back to the fire, his mouth watering.
**********
The evening meal was a delectable success. Everyone ate their fill and then some, the meat was roasted to perfection and the grain mash hot, thick, and tasty. A covered platter was set up with leftovers and was constantly being picked at, especially by the men.
Mog-ur and Rug sat across the fire watching Crag and Brug working on the new spears, bellies full and content. The hunt leader was showing Brug how to cut a groove around the butt of the shaft by turning it slowly in his hand while holding pressure against it with his knife. A thin thread of wood followed the blade of the knife as he slowly turned the shaft. It was interesting to see how the young hunter followed instructions, diligently and as exactly as he was able.
Brug set the shaft in his lap and grasped his knife, he set the blade against the butt of the shaft. He looked back at Crag, carefully studying the angle of the knife blade against the wood pole, and adjusted his knife accordingly. With a firm grip, he slowly began to rotate the shaft. His face was a mask of concentration, brow furrowed and eyes locked on his task. The veins poked out from the thick skin of his hands as he held his grip firmly. A thin strip of wood began to curl away from the edge of the sharp flint blade.
Troog and Draag set up three perimeter fires in a wide triangle around the camp, lined with rocks. They lit them and began the first watch, walking in opposite directions. The night was cool and full of the sounds of the darkness. Both men paid rapt attention to their surroundings and walked slowly and quietly.
Owls hooted and screeched and a few nighthawks added their high pitched cries to the soft sounds of the breeze rustling through the grass and swishing through the leaves of the brush and abundant trees. The cackling of hyenas in the distance was heard from several different directions, and sudden footfalls of heavy grazing animals were also heard from time to time. An occasional wolf song rang out in the night, clear and concise, the direction of its origin queerly distorted by the echoing sounds of the hill sides. The night was alive and active throughout the darkness of the huge, lush valley.
Etra went around the fire refilling the tea cups of those left at the fire. She and Inca were the last women left outside the tent. They would tend to the meat, the women would continue to cook through the night in shifts in order to finish off the rest of the two goats.
Inca worked on a long, narrow basket she wove from the wide, stiff blades of cane leaves when she wasn't tending the meat on the spit or preparing the next batch to cook. Etra worked on a flat mat made from the same materials, roughly the size of the bottom of the basket that Inca worked on. It was to be used as a second bottom eventually.
Rug got up and pulled a thick, short piece of dead fall from the fuel pile near the fire. He knelt down at the edge of the wide circle of rocks and started to stir up the coal bed. Sparks and small fingers of flame erupted as he shoved the coals back to the center of the pit. A stand of burning wood collapsed down in a shower of sparks, and heavy thread of thick smoke rose up as the fire diminished momentarily before starting to grow back in force. Rug added fresh fuel, stacking the thicker pieces into a pyramid shape above the low flames. He tossed smaller pieces into the center of the flames, and they caught quickly and Rug backed off from the fresh heat wave of the fire as they flared in bright yellow, dancing flames.
Mog-ur watched the flames grow bright and was mesmerized by their intense beauty. He felt himself being pulled into them, a calming sense of satisfaction and serenity enveloped him. Mog-ur could often, in moments of quiet peace, see into his own memories through the flames of a fire.
He saw the bright red, quivering coal bed slowly evolve into a craggy seashore. Through the bright oranges, reds and blues of the base of the flames, Mog-ur saw men of the Clan together in pairs wading in the shallows of the sea with nets of a thick fibrous material. Two men to a net, they cast them into the water and let them settle and sink for a moment before pulling them back between them. Sometimes the nets were empty, other times there were fish entangled by their fins. Silver fish, dark grey fish, and even green fish with long mouths filled with sharp rows of small, sharp teeth...
**********
Just before dawn, the incredibly loud roar of a lion shook the entire valley. Where the sudden, ominous sound originated from was a bit of a mystery.
Borg and Rug were walking the perimeter on second watch, and both men jumped involuntarily at the sound and were instantly covered with goose flesh. Their eyes searched the darkness, to no avail.
Ova and Aba were tending the meat at the central fire. Aba jumped up with wide eyes and panic etched across her face and covered her chest with her arms, Ova dropped to the ground and covered her head with her arms, moaning in fear.
The men met up at the southern most fire and tried to ascertain between them the direction of the lion. South was the best they could do, and even that was unsure at best. The one thing they could agree on was that the lion was not too close.
The tent emptied, no one would get any more sleep this night. There were still several large pieces of goat meat left to cook, and a large basket of tea was put together and heated. Brug went out and talked with the guards, pestering them for all they knew of the lion. Mog-ur made a round, speaking calmly to each person, trying to reassure them that they were in no imminent danger. His very presence had a soothing effect on the jumpy, jittery camp.
Gradually, the camp activities began again at a relaxed pace. Most of the men hung out at the edges of the light from the outer fires, keeping the flames stoked and watching the darkness. The women stayed close to the central fire, helping with the cooking and putting together a first meal.
Etra and Inca continued to work on the long, narrow basket between tending to the cooking meat. Each woman now worked on weaving wide, heavy handles they planned to attach to its ends. The basket was shaping up nicely, thick and strong.
Brug sat at the fire cutting a notch in the third new styled spear, the other two spears were ready for the next step. Crag came out of the darkness from the north, and sat down next to him. He watched Brug's technique, please at the progress he showed from the night before when he was a little more clumsy and less proficient in his efforts. Brug looked up at Crag when he sat down, and paused for a moment before he continued, pleased that Crag had no words of criticism for him.
**********
The sunrise was magnificent, a broad array of color reflected off the eastern horizon and three bands of thin, transparent clouds to the southeast. Brilliant hues of pinks and reds welcomed in the new day in all of Ursus' marvelous grandeur. It seemed to be the perfect end to a troubling, long night. The new light of day helped to settled the ragged nerves of the entire Clan.
A large piece of meat was tied to the cross bar of the spit, and set over the flames. There were three large pieces left to cook. The morning was half gone, and the tent was already broken down and packed up. Loaded back packs and bundles littered the far edge of the camp.
Etra put the finishing touches on the outside lip of the lid to the basket while Inca used a thin, flexible stem to weave between the bottom and the extra piece Etra had made as a second bottom. Ova and Aba stacked the pieces of cooked meat wrapped in light skins near them on a patch of green grass.
Rug and Troog scouted to the southeast, around a wide band of brush that lined both sides of the creek. Both men had their spears up and ready as they explored, the presence of at least one lion in the valley was enough to hold their rapt, undivided attention. They waded across the wide, shallow creek that never got more than knee deep. The water was still mostly brown and muddy, and the banks were sloppy with thick mud also. Rug lost one of his foot coverings on the far side as they waded out of the water and up onto the dark brown muddy bank. He retrieved the foot cover, and carried it until they got to a small patch of grass past the mud.
Troog carefully observed all the different animal tracks around them as Rug retied his foot cover, it was amazing. He saw tracks he wasn't sure he even recognized, there were so many. Big animals, small animals, grazers, predators, scavengers, they were all there. He worried when he realized that most of them were relatively fresh. This is indeed a valley teeming with life, he thought, it wouldn't be a bad place to live.
Three weasels darted away from a wide bush, scampering around the two men and heading back toward the creek behind them. They were so incredibly quick on their feet, Rug thought, watching them disappear into the bushes near the creek bed. The men veered a little southwesterly, skirting a stand of short cedar.
Crag tied the light woven cord around the butt of the last spear. Wrapping it three times around the shaft, inside the groove, he tied it off with a knot that he tightened by pulling the shaft away from his face with the end of the cord between his teeth.
Brug lifted one of the other two spears in his hands, feeling its weight and balance. The cord attached to the rear threw him off, it made the spear feel very back heavy and so cumbersome and awkward. The coil of cord lay on the ground at his side, it looked so long to him. He turned back to watch Crag trim the loose end of the cord off close to the shaft with his knife.
Crag finished up and studied the end of the spear for a moment before looking over at Brug who sat wide eyed and anxious. He thought to himself for a moment, wondering if they should practice, or just go hunting. There was still plenty of time before the last of the meat would be fully cooked and ready to pack. The bone points were quite sturdy, but they would still be fairly easy to break or damage if struck against something hard.
'Let's find a place to practice.' Crag signed as he stood up, holding the spear in one hand and the coil of cord in the other.
The disappointment in Brug's face was instantly obvious, but he covered it quickly enough to satisfy Crag. They walked away from camp to the north, picking their way through the brush until the found a small clear field of grass bordered by scattered small bushes with orange berries dangling down in clumps. Crag liked the looks of this area, there was a single bush off by itself with nothing behind it, it seemed to be a suitable target. He led them to a proper distance away from it, and stopped.
'Use that bush as your target, force is not an issue yet, learn control first.' He signed and set the spear and coil of cord to the ground beside him.
Brug set the extra spear down, and squared up to the bush. It was fairly close, by no means extending his normal range. He lifted the spear up, and gave Crag a questioning look as he held out the coil of lightweight cord.
Crag was at a sudden loss, and closed his eyes to remember back to what all Rymar had told them about throwing a spear with cord tied to it. It was all vague, but Crag eventually remembered quite a few details from all of the discussions. He reached out and took Brug's throwing arm in his hands. He tied the loose end of the cord to the young hunter's right wrist, then set the coil of cord over his forearm almost to the elbow.
Brug looked down at the odd configuration, a little confusion in his deep brown eyes. He looked up to the hunt leader, and saw that he had it the way Crag wanted. Brug shrugged, then pulled his arm back and sighted on the target.
The throw felt funny from the very beginning. The cord dangling from his forearm seemed strangely out of place, the cord tied to his wrist felt like something was holding him back, and the spear was so light that it felt totally unnatural. The spear sailed up, much higher than Brug meant it to, then his arm was suddenly jerked forward. The cord had gotten bound up and had not unwound freely for very far. The spear jerked in the air, and fell clumsily to the ground.
Brug looked back to Crag, bewilderment in his face. He almost looked embarrassed, almost. Crag simply studied what he had seen, then pulled the rest of the cordage free from his arm. He looked at Brug and made a sign for him to fetch the spear and Brug nodded, then turned and walked out to get it.
Crag closed his eyes again, picturing every aspect of the throw in his mind. He slowed the image down as much as he could and came to a possible conclusion from what he had seen. When he opened his eyes, Brug was standing in front of him, waiting. Crag took the cord and dropped it to the ground. When he began to coil it back up, he made much longer loops this time and instead of putting it over Brug's throwing arm, he placed it in his left hand.
'Hold hand open, do not clinch down on the cord.' He signed, and Brug nodded, understanding.
Brug sighted on the bush again, and let fly. The throw was straight, but way too high. The cordage uncoiled from his hand nicely, but the weight and drag of it caused the spear to fly in an odd angle with the bone pointing skyward. The spear flew well past the bush, and then jerked hard against his wrist as the cordage ran out.
Crag was very pleased with the throw, even though it was off target and flew at a funny angle. Brug wasn't happy at all. The throw had missed his intended target, and missed badly. He scowled, showing more anger and frustration than he had shown in a long, long time. Brug had not missed anything so badly in a long, long time. This didn't get by Crag, and he knew that the boy couldn't see the impressive measure of success that he had just shown.
Reaching for Brug's wrist, he untied the cord and dropped it to the ground, signing with one hand as it fell. 'Try again.'
Brug picked up the spear nearest to him, and pulled the free end of the cord up and handed it to Crag. It took them a little bit to get the next attempt prepared, and Brug took several deep breaths to try and compose himself. When they were ready, Crag stepped to the side and signed again.
'This spear is lighter than you are used to, use less strength and more direction.'
Brug nodded, but the words seemed almost hollow. He had to concentrate to even understand what Crag really meant. Brug's mind was already set on the adjustments he needed to make, and Crag's instructions were different from what he intended to do and this confused him. He took a deep breath, deciding to heed Crag's instructions and pulled the spear up to try again.
The third attempt reminded Brug quickly to not grip the loose cordage in his left hand, the spear flew only a few steps before he inadvertently tightened his grip and stopped the trajectory of the spear. It did accomplish one thing good though, it lightened the mood of both men who had been so very serious. They both found the miscue amusing after realizing what Brug had done a moment or two later.
On Brug's fifth attempt, he hit the bush. It was very hard for him to get the feel of this new weapon, it was just so light compared to his other spears. His previous attempts had all gone high, lowering a little bit with each cast of a spear. Brug situated himself, and matched the previous cast with another accurate throw, this one a little harder. He looked up at Crag, and the sides of his mouth split into a very slight grin. Crag was more amused than annoyed at this reminder of his friends of the Others.
They gathered the spears together, and Crag started back toward the camp. Brug looked up at him, obviously wanting to continue to practice this new and difficult weapon.
'I need to add something to the spears.' He signed, and kept walking.
Brug followed along, wondering what he had in mind. Despite the difficulties he had endured, Brug had high hopes for this new weapon. His mind roamed and suddenly he wished Bran-nah was here with him, and Rym-mar and Mor-tah as well.
**********
'The women want to gather more food, we should stay here another night.' Rug signed, he often liked to get the Mog-ur's opinion before making any final decision on the Clan's next move. His respect for the spiritual leader and his views was immense, and it would be unseemly to bounce his ideas off any other member of his Clan.
Mog-ur looked at the Clan leader, and nodded his head. There was a vast abundance of fresh vegetables to be found here, and the taste of fresh greens and other vegetables did entice the older man. He made a simple one handed sign that meant simply, 'good'.
'I will send hunters to escort them then, we will leave at first light in the morning.' Rug signed and turned back toward a group of men standing off to the far edge of the camp.
Mog-ur watched him go, thinking to himself how well Rug had done thus far since he had been given the mantle of leadership. Rug adapted adequately, having not been trained to do this job from an existing leader as was tradition, he excelled at this job of such great importance to the Clan. The Clan followed him without question as they would any designated leader, and Rug had made no real tangible errors thus far. Rug tended to treat them all with slightly more respect than their original leader had, but Mog-ur knew that this was no ordinary Clan any longer. Some of the old ways were skewed, completely different now, and more things were changing still.
On those rare mornings that the Clan did not have to break camp immediately to leave, most of them wore only a simple, small skin wrapped around their waists while staying near the camp. The morning coolness was much more enjoyable with the scant clothing, most days got so hot now that the cool mornings and early evenings were the times that they all looked forward to and appreciated greatly.
Etra and Ova turned the spit and stoked up the fire again when they got the meat anchored at a new angle. Fresh drippings from the slab of meat dropped into the fire, sizzling and sending out another wave of succulent, delectable smells.
Mog-ur looked at Etra's slightly swelling belly as she reached up to tie off the spit. He considered again the incredible fact that every single woman of his Clan was pregnant, and wondered how it would affect them in their travels. They still had so far to go, and all of it unknown, at least in the physical sense. The memories Mog-ur counted on to keep them on track did not give them the details necessary to actually plan their route, only the general direction they needed to go was clear.
Inca and Aba watched and waited patiently, watching Rug walk over to the hunters. The men spoke amongst themselves for a while, paying the women no attention at all. Etra carried a digging stick and a small gathering basket as she approached the two women. Their own baskets and sticks lay at their feet. The men broke up their discussion, splitting into two groups.
Troog and Draag went with the three women, Ova staying behind to cook and watch after little Ooga. They walked to the east, toward a rocky outcrop at the base of the low hillside on the far side of the creek.
Borg and Rug walked away to the south, exploring in the direction they would be traveling the following morning. They had no real mission in mind, but the beautiful valley teemed with life and beckoned them to wander around and enjoy its beauty.
Mog-ur dipped a cup of tepid tea from a basket and sat down to watch Crag and Brug. The hunt leader was explaining something to his newest hunter, Mog-ur watched the lesson that was already in progress. Ooga walked over and climbed into his lap, tugging on the ends of his greying beard softly in her usual show of affection and greeting. Mog-ur put his arm around her and cuddled her into his lap comfortably. Ooga lay her head on his bare chest right at the level of his darkly tattooed scar and wrapped her arm over his belly. She tickled the hair on his belly with a slowly twirling finger absently, enjoying the closeness as she always did.
'...and to offset the lighter weight and shorter length of this new weapon, we can modify the shaft of the spear like this.' Crag signed, and pulled a thin strip of leather from a bulging pouch on his wide belt. He dipped the leather into a small bowl of water between them and let it soak for a moment, then wrung it out. Crag grasped the center of the spear shaft, and held it out for Brug to hold for him. Brug held the shaft strongly between his hands while Crag began to wrap the leather strip around the shaft at about the center of the spear. He overlapping the strip twice over itself before working his way slowly and meticulously toward the rear of the shaft.
'This will make the spear feel thicker to your hand, and should make it easier to throw and control.' Crag signed with one hand, pinching the end of the strip tightly against the shaft as he signed.
Brug watched with wide eyes, he saw how Crag kept the strip close together, but a small measured distance apart as he wrapped it around the shaft. The concept Crag spoke of was difficult for him to grasp, and the young hunter strained to understand how this could possibly help to make the odd feeling spear feel more like what he was used to. He decided to just watch, and maybe the purpose would become clearer as Crag worked.
When Crag got a certain distance back, he double wrapped the strip over itself again and started working back forward to where he had originally started. The leather strip created a series of diamond shapes as it overlapped the first wraps in an interesting pattern. Brug got lost in his mind as he watched, the shapes this created reminded him of something, but while he concentrated on what Crag was doing, he couldn't quite remember what it was.
When Crag reached the place where he had started, he folded the strip back under a previous wrap and pulled it tight. He pulled out his bone handled flint knife and carefully trimmed the excess off. Crag pulled the spear up to him and looked over his handy work, then pushed it back to Brug who looked it over anxiously.
'When the leather dries, it will be stiff and tighten up even more against the shaft of the spear.' Crag signed as Brug looked up at him, his eyes were glowing with respect, and more than a few questions. Crag was pleased that the boy showed enough patience to not start asking them yet.
Brug was a good student, Crag and Rymar of the Aurochs Camp had both been overly impressed with his want, and need to learn. Because of his constant, never wavering enthusiasm, he was easy to teach. He practiced diligently on every task he was taught, until he was proficient with no prodding needed. Brug's curiosity though, made for intricate and long detailed discussions to answer his numerous and constant queries. He wanted to know everything, absolutely everything. It was good that both his teachers, past and present, were blessed with an abundance of patience and knowledge.
Mog-ur saw the mounting curiosity and enthusiasm in the young hunter. He was pleased to see Brug studying the modified spear while Crag pulled another strip of leather from his pouch. The two hunters went back to work on the next spear, Brug knew what was expected of him this time around and held the spear in position while Crag wrung the excess water from the leather strip.
Draag slowed when the women found a wide, but thin patch of ripe cabbage, and looked to the east, studying the land carefully. Troog walked up beside him, and pointed his spear tip at three dark colored horses grazing in the tall grass in the distance. One of the horses was a little smaller in stature than the other two, probably a yearling, Draag thought as he watched them.
Etra used her digging stick to break up the ground where some thick, green leaves grew in clumps at the near edge of the cabbage patch. She reached down and started pulling up fat, yellow onions from the loose ground all caked with dirt, and put them in her basket. Several fat grubs with bright orange heads wriggled in the loose dirt, and she tossed them in as well.
Draag stopped and knelt down, picking up a thin willow twig that still had a few dead, brown leaves clinging to it. He stripped the leaves by running it through his fingers, then carefully poked the thin end of the twig down the top of his cast. His leg itched something fierce, and he used the twig to scratch a few spots under the top of the cast that he could reach. The instant relief he felt caused some of the wrinkles to disappear from his forehead.
The band of gatherers moved on, Inca spotted another stand of ripe wheat and veered them toward it. Aba stopped to poke her stick into the ground, prodding around a few wide green leafed vines before moving on. A fat grey lizard scampered through the short grass in front of them, disappearing into a clump of twigs at the base of a short bush.
Rug and Borg rounded a stand of short cedars and willows on the far edge of the creek. A fat water snake slithered out from under the partially exposed roots at the far tree to their right and quickly plunged into the muddy water with a small splash. The snake disappearing into the murky water with little more than a ripple on the surface.
Three colorful ducks took flight from further upstream at a small bend, their wings beating noisily in the stillness of the late morning. A turtle head slid up and out of the water a few steps out to the right of them, then slid back down and out of sight. A squirrel chattered at the two men angrily from the safety of the dark branches of a cedar tree off to their left.
The creek widened here, but the banks were sloppy with dark mud and animal tracks. Borg and Rug both paused and studied the tracks, identifying them in their minds. Mostly they saw tracks that represented food animals, but the predators had been there too. As had the scavengers.
Mog-ur watched Crag tie off the leather strip of the second spear, Crag took the spear from Brug. He looked it over then set it down next to the first, completed spear. Mog-ur was somewhat surprised when Crag took the last spear from Brug, and held it out in front of him just as Brug had held the previous two spears for him.
Crag nodded down to the bowl of water, and Brug's eyes widened as he realized that Crag wanted him to wrap the last spear himself. Brug pulled the wet strip of leather out of the bowl, and squeezed it through his strong fingers, the excess water running down his hands and wrists.
Brug surprised both men when he reached up to grasp his amulet and closed his eyes for a long moment before looking back at the spear shaft. He reached up and put his finger on the shaft and looked to Crag, Crag nodded and Brug began. He was meticulous and slow, stopping several times to undo what he had just done to do it over again, neater and more precise.
Crag watched without comment, allowing Brug to work at his own pace. The boy struggled a bit at first, getting the wraps uneven and varying in tightness around the shaft. He seemed to know what was acceptable, and redid it until he was satisfied. Brug even stopped at one point and looked back down to one of the completed spears as a reference before going on.
When he had wrapped the strip what he thought was the correct distance down the shaft, he stopped and looked up at Crag for approval before continuing. Crag nodded at Brug, and tilted his head back toward the front of the spear. Brug doubled the wrap where it was, then started back forward. The young hunter was awed again by the diamond shapes he was now creating, and he wondered again what these shaped kept reminding him of.
Mog-ur watched the lesson, Brug was doing well, he thought. His opinion of Crag escalated even higher than normal as he saw just how patient a good teacher had to be. Several times, Mog-ur was sure that Crag would stop the boy and correct him, but the hunt leader always allowed him to see his own mistakes. Brug did not fail to achieve the desired results, catching himself every time the quality lagged and repairing it.
Brug had trouble at the end of the wrap, where he needed to fold the strip under itself to tie it off. He attempted it several times, always losing the tightness of the wrap in the process. Finally, he looked up at Crag for instruction.
Crag nodded to Brug to try again, his face showing no disappointment, and possibly a little respect for his efforts. Brug took a deep breath and pulled the strip tight, and pinched it off a little way from where he started to slip it under the first wraps. This time he succeeded in getting it in place with the leather still fairly taught, but not taught enough for his liking. Brug felt a bit of satisfaction as he undid it and tried again.
Mog-ur saw the determined look on Brug's face, and thought to himself that the boy would succeed on his next try. He was correct.
Brug pulled his knife and placed it against the stray end of the leather strip, then looked up at Crag before going on. Crag nodded and Brug slit the leather carefully, the spear was done.
Crag and Brug got help from an unexpected source when the two men moved closer to the fire to continue the phase of the task. Mog-ur followed them and held the third spear as the three of them turned the shafts slowly in the outside heat from the flames, drying the leather. Mog-ur enjoyed helping, he had never been too astute in the making of weapons, his training had always been centered elsewhere. The comradery he felt at this moment was very enjoyable, in fact he found he liked it a lot.
Brug kept looking up at the Mog-ur, he liked the old man helping them. It made him feel somehow a little more important that the holy man was interested enough in what they were doing to actually help.
Mog-ur turned the shaft slowly, concentrating on what he was doing. It wouldn't do for me to mess up all their hard work, he thought.
"Brug", do you think that "Crag" is a good enough teacher to teach an old man like me to throw a spear?'
Brug was as startled by the question as Crag was, but he looked up and nodded enthusiastically at the Mog-ur. "Crag" is good teacher. The best. He can teach you, he can teach anyone.' He signed rapidly, not really realizing that his words could have been construed as an insult to the Mog-ur.
Mog-ur was quietly amused at the unintended slight, but let nothing show on his impassive face knowing that Brug in his innocence had meant no insult. He saw the boy as he really was, too young to be a man, but a man and a hunter of this Clan never the less.
Crag was slightly amused at the conversation, but more than a little touched. The confidence that Mog-ur had always shown in him was reassuring, and he was also pleased that Brug seemed to think that there was nothing he couldn't do. He knew, though, that teaching hunting skills to an adult that had never really hunted much would probably be more difficult than teaching an impressionable youth was.
"Crag" will teach. "Mog-ur" will throw the spear as all the hunters do. Accurate and strong.' Crag signed with a little more confidence on his rugged face than he really felt.
Brug swelled with pride at his teachers words. He looked up at Mog-ur with the unwavering confidence of youth, sure that Mog-ur would be a great hunter with the new weapon. Just as proficient as the rest of them, Crag could teach anyone, of this he was positive.
By late afternoon, the last piece of meat came off the spit. The women were back from their foraging with bulging baskets of fresh goods. They started preparing the evening meal early, they had a lot of work to do to get the fresh vegetables and grain ready to pack away while they worked over the meal.
The men were all in a fine mood, they examined the new spears that were in the final stages of readiness. As usual, the conversations centered on hunting and weapons. They asked a lot of questions about the new spears, and Crag and Brug both gave answers. Long, detailed answers.
Mog-ur paid more attention to the conversation that he usually did, his interest in the ways the Clan now used to hunt was increasing. He felt a longing to belong to the hunters in a way that he had not felt in years, he wondered why.
Aba brought the men a fresh skin of cool water, and Ooga carried an arm full of cups. The young girl passed them out to the men while Aba poured, she got into Mog-ur's lap and made herself at home.
Mog-ur felt a sudden, unexpected stab of arousal when Aba bent over to pour Rug's cup full of water. Her bare bottom peeked out at him from under the short, loose wrap around her waist. He looked away from the welcoming pink folds of her womanhood, thinking that maybe later I should relieve myself with her.
Ooga tugged on Mog-ur's beard, and he pulled her close with his arm. The child nestled her head against his chest, and sighed contentedly. Mog-ur could never remember being as completely content as he was right now. Despite the hardships of the past, and the difficulty promised by their future, this Clan, this life was good. Really good.
Brug picked up the closest spear to him on the ground, and studied the now familiar designs the strips of leather made. It came to him all at once, the diamond pattern was the same pattern that Bran-nuh had tattooed on his upper cheek. The remembrance of this warmed him inside, though the memory was a bit sad as well. Brug knew now that he must learn to use these new spears, and use them well. It would be his way of honoring the large man of the Others that he loved and missed so much, and had been forced to leave behind.