Chapter Thirteen
Ducks, Geese, Salmon, and Bears
Part One
Brug raised up slowly, looking through the dark green, strong smelling leaves of the top of the bush covered with red berries. The strength of the aroma almost made his eyes water. His eyes searched the ground to his left, then slowly worked his way back to his right. There, movement. He waited, raising his spear up into throwing position, until he had a better view. A dark shape appeared through the tall strands of green grass, lumbering along slowly, then stopping. The landscape was still a little dim, it was the very first light of dawn.
The dark shape slipped through the thick clumps of tall grass, going in and out of sight in the shadows and deep green, thick grass blades. A glimpse of a fat, compact body, then it was gone. Erratic movement, starts and stops, but slow, every movement was always very slow and deliberate.
Taking a deep breath, he stood up straight from his hunched over position and judged the distance and tried to anticipate the direction of the next movement, then he flung the spear. Brug pulled another spear from the scabbard strapped across his back, never having taken his eye off the target. The spear flew straight and true, and when it hit he heard a brief grunt and then a short lived, high pitched squeal and the rustling sounds of feet against the grass. Brug pulled the second spear up to shoulder height and stepped around the pungent bush to face the wriggling small dark colored animal in the darkness of the shadows out in front of him. He approached it slowly and cautiously.
Brug had never seen anything like it, he touched the animal's small flank with the sharp tip of his spear. The animal wiggled once sluggishly, then was still. There looked to be small spears sticking up all over his prone body, even from the top of its head. How unusual, he thought. Brug reached down with his left hand and tentatively touched a small spear tip sticking up from his back. It was sharp and stiff. He watched in amazement as the short spikes slowly lay down all at the same time, almost like a thick mane of hair.
The young hunter reached into a pouch on his belt and pulled out a thin strap of leather, and set his spear down on the ground beside him. He slipped the strap around the back feet of the unusual looking animal and tied his feet together then stood back up. Brug reached down and grabbed the haft of the spear that stuck through the front shoulder of the small beast and on into the ground, and put his right foot softly against his rib cage. Feeling no sharp points or pain through his foot covering, he pulled the spear softly free from the odd looking animal.
Brug wiped the blood and tissue off the tip of the spear on the grass and placed it back in the scabbard across the middle of his back and picked up his other spear. He grabbed the strap of leather and picked up the short, fat animal and turned to walk back toward camp. Brug couldn't wait to see if any of the other hunters knew what this odd looking, spear covered animal was called. He hoped that it was good to eat, but had no idea if it was or not.
A sudden, soft flurry of wings beating overhead made him look up, a large flock of ducks, some with bright green heads flew by over his head. They quit flapping and set their wings and glided down toward the river off to his right and disappeared through the cover of trees. The sunlight was a little brighter now, and he could feel the first warmth of the day on his face.
Brug quickened his step, and hurried on back winding his way through the low brush toward camp. The spines of the animal bumped into his thigh, poking him all the way through his leather breeches. Brug looked down in surprise and slowed to a stop to free the sharp points. He had a little trouble pulling them out through the leather, they seemed stuck. After wrestling with it for a moment, he lost patience and got a firm grip on the three impaled spines and yanked. Hard. The points came free, but Brug felt a series of small pricks between his fingers. He lifted his fingers up close to his face and saw a bunch of tiny black hairs sticking out of his fingers. What is this all about, he wondered. When he rubbed his fingers together he felt a series of painful little pricks.
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Crag saw Brug coming through the brush, and wondered what he had killed this morning. He was startled when he saw the porcupine that Brug held out well away from his body as he walked.
Aba saw him coming as well. She got up from where she sat at the fire slicing up a mushroom into wide strips on a bone platter piled with whole mushrooms on one side and sliced strips on the other. She walked out to meet her son, glowing with pride as she did almost every morning when he return from his solo hunting forays.
'Be careful, this strange animal has sharp spears all over its body.' Brug signed when she reached him, holding the stocky animal out away from them both.
'This is a porcupine.' She signed, then took the animal from him holding the heavy little guy well away from her bare legs. Aba wore only a small skin tied around her waist in the cool morning.
Brug shook his head, not recognizing the sign for the animal. Aba made the sign again, and from somewhere in his memories, the sign registered this time. Brug nodded, and walked just in front of his mother as they walked to the fire, searching his memories for more information.
Etra handed Brug a cup of steaming hot tea and he took it from her with a grunt of appreciation. When Etra started to turn away, he grunted again to keep her attention.
'Medicine woman, this hunter has a small problem.' Brug signed, then held his hand up to her eye level and wiggled his fingers.
Etra took his hand gently in her own, then studied it for a moment. She saw the problem immediately and motioned for Brug to go ahead and sit down.
Brug joined Crag and Borg sitting near the fire. They went through the usual question and answer session that Crag put him through after every hunt, solo or not. This time, Brug had a few questions himself, all concerning the odd porcupine.
The discussion went on for a while, and Brug got most of his questions answered. He was pleased to find that the porcupine made for good eating. The hunters all seemed a little amused at the fact that Brug had actually come across an animal that he knew so little about. Crag was actually surprised, the boy already knew so much that this gap in his knowledge was unexpected.
When the time was correct, Brug brought up seeing the ducks, and Crag knew how anxious he was about trying out the new spears they had made. Crag wondered though, if they still needed more practice with the new weapon before hunting with it. Brug had shown remarkable improvement with the small spears since they had added the leather hand grips, and Crag had done very well with them also since they had made the improvements.
Rug came out of the tent, and approached the fire. He took the cup of tea that Ova offered and looked over to see Aba working on cleaning the porcupine. Rug watched as she took her time pulling the spiny skin away from the carcass. It took a lot of patience and skill to clean a porcupine, he thought to himself, she was doing a good job on the spiny task.
Etra followed a few steps behind Rug, and sat down next to Brug with her medicine bag in her hands. She pulled a pouch out of the bag, and removed a thin, very sharp wafer of flint. Etra took Brug's hand in her own, and with a deft, soft touch, she pinched the small spines between her thumb and the flint and slowly pulled them free, one at a time. Brug could barely feel the small stickers as she removed them, Etra had a lot of skill in her hands.
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The Clan traveled steadily through the heat of the day. They stayed close to the river bank throughout the majority of the morning. After a short stop for food and rest, they headed inland a little bit to get out of the heavy brush that grew thick in the dark brown dirt close to the banks. They followed a mostly clear path between the brush and where the trees began, never getting far enough away from the river to completely lose sight of it.
They encountered a wide, clear feeder creek late in the afternoon. Knee deep at the deepest, they waded across it slipping and sliding over the smooth rocky bottom. They stopped long enough to bathe in the cold, clear water before moving on to the south feeling refreshed.
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The river turned back easterly, pushed away from a large gentle, tree covered rise on the western bank. The Clan walked along the near bank which was now free of the low brush they had encountered this morning. Here the ground was more covered with small smooth stones and intermixed with short, deep green grass that grew in clumps and had long fingers of growth that spread out in all directions. The long, blade covered fingers wound through the smooth stones like small, spiny green snakes.
The tree line encroached closer to the river here, and the droppings of all kinds of animals littered the ground. The sun was in its final, graceful descent when they came to a place where the river began to spread out gradually into a wide, shallow waterway. Here the water was exceptionally clear, and the bottom was easily visible and almost completely paved with light colored, wide flat stones. The glimmer of fish swimming through the shallows, and hiding amongst the patches of occasional wavy green growth from the bottom was a delight to behold.
Rug and Crag stopped at the bank on a wide rock overlooking the slow moving water. Crag pointed to a silver shape moving slowly just off the bottom, another one was close behind.
On the far side of the river, three tall, thin white birds with long, graceful necks waded in the shallows. They walked close to each other, and in complete unison. With each step they took, they stopped on one leg and paused before slowly slipping the foot back into the water and taking another step forward. As one, they dipped their heads under water. When they reemerged, two of them had small fish between their beaks. Their slow dance continued.
'We will stay here tonight. Make camp.' Rug signaled to the group who all waited patiently behind the two men.
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Inca waded close to the near shore, walking slowly, bent over at the waist. She was naked and dangled one hand in the water beside her, fore arm deep. Her steps were slow and measured, and she veered into slightly deeper water as she headed toward one of the wide leafed underwater plants to her right.
Brug watched her every move from the bank. He studied how she walked, how her hand made a small rippling wake behind it in the slow moving current. How she held her head, where her eyes were focused. Brug missed very little.
Inca slowed even more when she was a few steps away from an underwater plant. Her arm slowly slid deeper into the water, it was thigh deep here. With a sudden jerk, she lifted her arm up and straightened her body at the same time. The water on her right side rippled and splashed as a wide tail fin broke the surface with a slap. Inca held on to the dark colored fish and kept it just under the surface of the water as she turned and waded slowly and carefully back toward shore.
Brug moved quickly to where he thought she would come out of the river. He offered her his hand to steady her as she stepped up and out of the water over the slippery stone bottom. She carried a catfish as long as her arm up onto the dry ground. Brug was so impressed that he put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently, his deep brown eyes shone brightly in the waning daylight.
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Well before dawn, Crag and Brug walked upriver in the still darkness. They carried the new spears they had worked on and perfected over the last several days in their hands, and had scabbards of throwing spears strapped across their backs. They walked slowly and quietly, careful of their footing on the rocky, uneven ground.
The river curved gradually to the west still, and the tree cover closed in from their left side as they got further away from the camp. The ground softened a little with more tufts of grass and up ahead they saw the dark profiles of a few scattered bushes in dim light of the thin crescent moon and the starry sky.
Crag led them to a particularly wide group of three close knit bushes that grew near the edge of the water, and they stopped there. The men went to work cutting off a couple of leaf covered branches from the side of the brush closest to the water, and getting situated comfortably in the middle of the cover.
Brug laid out the three spears, and their coils of cord in front of them. He arranged them carefully, keeping them separated from each other and easy to get to. They both set the cut branches on the ground behind them and sat down, leaning the leaf covered branches on their backs. They settled in to wait.
Crag and Brug both heard the soft sounds of wings and kept their heads low. Muted splashes scattered out all over in front of them as a gaggle of geese settled into the water. The sky was still dark, but the moon and stars were fading fast. It was all Brug could do to be perfectly still, and his eyes searched the dark water through the brush to no avail.
For Crag, the slow dawning came as it should have, but to Brug it had been the longest wait he could remember. The young hunter was as excited as he had been in a long, long time. The sun couldn't rise fast enough for him, and as his eyes were able to make out the blurry, light colored shapes on the water his impatience grew.
Crag touched his shoulder, and Brug looked up at the hunt leader and nodded his head. He knew that every move he made threatened the success of the hunt now, and his movements were all very slow and deliberate. Crag made a subtle eye motion to the left, and Brug followed it slowly.
There it was, a pair of geese swimming slowly toward them. They were on a path that varied and wandered, and every now and then ducked their heads underwater and came up with small green clumps from the bottom. They slowly got closer.
Crag reached out and picked up the spear nearest to him, and Brug did the same. Both moved so slowly that their movements were hard to see.
The pair geese were joined by another pair that neither man had seen from the west. The four of them continued on, heading into slightly deeper waters but still pretty close to shore.
Brug's heart pounded as he picked up the coil of cord and placed it carefully into his left hand and positioned it correctly. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Crag was ready as well. He looked back through the bush and followed the movement of the four geese. They had changed direction again, and for the moment were heading right at them.
Crag touched the shaft of his spear against Brug's thigh, and both men got a better grip on the spears they held. Ever so slowly they got their feet underneath them and started to slowly rise up, staying well within the cover of the brush. They stopped, all stooped over lower than the top of the bushes and waited.
Two geese ducked their heads under water, then the other two followed suit shortly thereafter. The time was right, and both hunters stood up. Brug could just see over the top of the bush, while the taller Crag stayed slightly stooped over with only his head over the leafy top. They pulled the spears up and lifted their left hands with the coils of cordage up and got ready, and they waited.
When the first goose lifted his head back up, Brug let fly. The second and third geese came up for air right after, and Crag sighted and threw his spear also. The geese were close, and Brug's spear caught his target full in the breast. Crag's spear hit the rear most goose, through the wing and into his side. He was surprised, he had actually aimed at the closer bird. Both men grabbed onto the cords and got firm grips as the large birds struggled and flapped on the surface.
The water exploded with the beating of wings, the wounded geese flapping against the disturbed water, and the other two trying to get air born. They almost seemed to run across the top of the water until their wings were able to gather enough air beneath them to gain flight. More geese took to flight as well from all around them, and the sounds of their wings broke the stillness of the serene morning.
The two geese floated now on the top of the water, one still and the other had a single wing still flapping slowly. His head gradually lowered, his beak opening and closing slowly, and finally dropped to the surface of the water, and his wing beat one last time then stilled.
Brug let out a primal scream of triumph, and Crag joined him. They walked through the small crease in between the tight brush, and started to reel in the two large white and black birds. Brug was almost overwhelmed with their accomplishment, and Crag was more than pleasantly surprised by their success, even the accidental part.
Hand over hand they pulled the cords, dragging the birds to shore. As they got close, a large silver shape passed by them in the water. Both hunters stopped and watched the long, sleek fish swim by. Then another fish appeared right in his wake, and then another. The men looked at each other, then pulled their geese up onto the rocky bank.
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The geese provided a wealth of valuable feathers, and Aba saved them all. The wing and tail feathers she put aside for the hunters, and the small feathers and down she kept for the women to use. Ova helped her clean the two birds, and prepared the carcases for cooking.
Aba took the long feathers to Crag and Brug who sat near the fire with the rest of the men. She dropped to he knees beside Crag and lowered her head. Crag touched her shoulder, and she held the feathers out to him.
The hunt leader took the mass of feathers in both hands with a subtle nod of thanks, and held them out to Brug on the other side of him. Aba returned to where Ova worked on getting the geese ready for the fire.
'...there are also many salmon coming upstream already.' Crag went on with what he had been saying before he had been interrupted. 'It seems a little early for them, but we saw several of the large silver ones close to the shore.'
Rug thought about this for a moment, as did the Mog-ur. Both men could taste the succulent, meaty fish and it made their mouths water at the thought. The catfish from last night had been so good, and the long winter without fresh fish had added to the flavor and longing. The new seasonings that the women used had given fish a fresh new appeal.
Ever since their winter with the Others, the women had prepared food a little differently. The spices and seasonings they used now on a regular basis reminded Mog-ur of the food at Clan meetings. The added knowledge that the women had picked up from the women of the Others had been integrated into their daily routines. It made for very interesting, tasty meals.
Rug thought about delaying their travels long enough to stay here and fish. He considered the pros and cons silently. The Clan had come a long way, but not knowing how far they had yet to go made it difficult to make a good, informed decision. What lay ahead was more mystery, more of the unknown. Decisions like this were by far the hardest for the Clan leader to decipher and implement. He wondered how the Mog-ur would feel about a short delay. Any dely.
Mog-ur could almost read Rug's mind as he watched the leader deep in silent contemplation. It was easy for the holy man to see that Rug wanted to stop and fish, and even easier to know why. Mog-ur couldn't remember when he had last tasted anything as good as the catfish had been last night, it was perfect, and salmon was even tastier than catfish. Not to mention roe.
Etra walked over and incidentally broke the Mog-ur's train of thought. She knelt in front of Draag and when he acknowledged her presence, she began her daily examination of the cast on his leg. Mog-ur watched her work, he could tell that something was not to her liking as she manipulated the hunter's leg. Draag didn't notice the subtle signs of her concern, he was enveloped in a deep conversation with Brug at the moment.
'...these new spears are much lighter and that makes them harder to control.' Brug's deep brown eyes shown with the rare opportunity he had being the center of attention teaching instead of learning from his fellow hunters.
"Brug" is correct.' Crag added. 'The spears tend to fly high even with the cord pulling against them. The bird I killed today was not the bird I aimed for.'
Brug's eyes grew wide at this admission, he had had no clue. He paid his teacher rapt attention as he continued.
'I was trying for a bird that was closer to me, this one swam behind my intended target.' Crag paused, then went on. 'Mine was a lucky shot.'
'Is this new spear difficult to learn?' Troog asked, looking at Crag.
"Brug." Crag said, nodding for the young hunter to answer.
Brug almost jumped at the sound of his name. It was a rare thing for the hunters to learn from him, but the pride that showed in his eyes as the hunt leader deferred to him was evident as he considered his answer.
Mog-ur enjoyed the byplay, and settled in to watch. The other hunters had always given their youngest hunter more respect than the lowest ranked hunter of any other Clan would normally be afforded. This Clan was so sorely shy of hunters, it was understandable though.
'The new spears require a lot of practice to gain the skill needed. It is more a matter of learning to curb your strength at first in order to learn proper control.' Brug exhaled loudly as he finished signing, he hadn't realized that he had been holding his breath.
'This is by far the hardest part, "Brug" has explained it correctly.' Crag signed, inwardly proud of how the boy had worded his knowledgeable reply. 'One must use less speed at first or the spear will fly too high. Even when a certain amount of skill is achieved, it is something that must be remembered each time you cast the spear. I was lucky, "Brug" showed skill.'
Brug absolutely glowed with the compliment.
'I think it would be wise for the rest of you to learn this valuable new hunting weapon,' Crag began. "Brug" and I will help you make some of these new spears...'
This Clan is different, Mog-ur thought to himself as he watched the conversation. Compliments were normally shunned, almost like a bad omen. As a rule, a job well done was always considered to be enough, more would anger Ursus. This was the Clan belief, he considered, but was it really true? Was this something that Brug simply hadn't learned yet, or was there more to it than that? Mog-ur thought about this, abstracts were a difficult concept for him and he had to give them deep thought to make any sense of them at all.
Why would something as simple as telling someone that they have done a good job anger the almighty Ursus? It was essential in helping a young boy like Brug keep a good attitude and to strive to be successful learning all these difficult skills. Mog-ur must meditate on this, there is more to it than simple tradition, he thought. There must be. It was a little disconcerting to question Clan ways, but Mog-ur had been through so much that it was something he had done often over the last year or so. His attention was pulled back as he saw Etra looking at him with a questioning expression on her face, somehow she had knelt before him without his noticing. As he looked up, he also noticed Rug looking at him.
'The Clan leader instructed this woman to ask you if we have time to stay here for two days so that I may replace "Draag's" leg cast. It is showing too much wear and tear.' Etra signed demurely, thinking that she had probably interrupted the Mog-ur, which she had. 'There are birch trees here, they make for better casts than the hard mud and skin wraps. They are lighter too, "Draag" will find it easier to walk with a new cast made from birch. It will take a full day to set and harden correctly, though.'
Mog-ur was a little surprised that he had missed this entire conversation. This did make it easier for Rug, he thought, he does want to stay and fish. Why not, he asked himself once more, tasting the fresh fish in his mind.
'Yes, we can stay if the Clan leader so wishes.'
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Troog and Draag went out in search of a birch tree with Etra and little Ooga in tow. Troog carried the small hand axe that Bran-nah of the Others had given Crag as a parting gift when the Clan had begun their journey. It was a fine tool, and he marveled at the craftsmanship.
It didn't take long to locate a tree large enough around to yield a big enough piece of bark to suffice their needs. Etra explained what she required, and the men went to work. She and the youngster, Ooga, explored the area close by. They would not get out of sight of the men.
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Crag and Rug unfolded the only net that they had on the ground. Borg and Brug knelt down with them and they looked it over for any tears or flaws. The net was a new one that they had made last winter, and had yet to use. A few knots needed attention, but other than that it was in great shape.
When the net was laid out it was twice as long as a man, and almost as tall in width. The repairs were quickly made, and Crag folded it over and he and Rug carried it down to the rocky bank of the river. Ova and Aba went with them.
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Mog-ur watched the camp empty out, Inca was the only one left, and she worked on spitting the two geese. He decided to use this time to find a place to be alone and meditate. He informed Inca the direction he was going and walked upriver along the shoreline.
The river sounds were soft and soothing, and Mog-ur had a stray thought that he might be able to meditate while walking. A silver streak appeared in the water, sliding upstream easily and quickly. We will have a nice meal, he thought confidently.
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The men at the river stripped off all their clothing. Ova and Aba hung around them near the bank. Ova straightened up the wraps as the men dropped them into neat little piles. Brug was the only one completely dressed, the others had on only a small skin tied around their waists as they tended to do around camp.
The water was cold, but refreshing as all the men waded out into the river. The current here was mild but constant. The greater width and shallower depth of the river here preventing the stronger surges that deeper water had.
Brug and Crag stayed closer to shore, while Rug and Borg waded just a little further out. The water was almost mid thigh deep on Crag, and it went up to the top of Rug's thigh.
Crag held one end of the net, and Rug carried the other, both men holding it well above the rippling surface. When they got situated, they stretched the net out and Brug and Borg took the bottom of the net. They held their positions and waited, watching the rippling water.
Brug was the first to see a fish swim by, it passed right next to his leg and he lifted his free hand up to let the others know. Rug spotted another, and lifted one hand as well. Crag watched the water, and kept the other hunters in his peripheral vision when Borg lifted his hand, Crag grunted and the men went into action.
Brug and Borg shoved the bottom ends of the net as deep into the water as they could reach without dunking their heads under water, and Crag and Rug dropped their ends to just below the surface. Almost immediately, they all felt the net being bumped and pulled.
Crag grunted again, and Brug and Borg pulled their ends of the net up to their knees, and then Borg and Rug walked around Brug and Crag toward shore. Before they got even with the men in the shallows, Crag and Brug headed to shore also.
The four men got to the rocky drop off and lifted the net up, it wiggled and twitched as they pulled it up. Aba and Ova were ready, and they grabbed the net from the four men from each end and pulled it out of the water and up onto the bank. Three large silver salmon struggled and flopped on the ground, tangled up in the net.
With a final pull, the women slid the net away from the water a little further. They pulled the net apart and started to pull the heavy fish free of the net. Brug scrambled out of the water and joined them, grabbing the largest fish by the gills to slow her struggling and try to prevent her from damaging the net. Her lower belly bulged with eggs.
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Troog handled the axe with great skill, chopping softly in controlled shallow strokes. He was working his way around the tree about chest high. Draag had just completed his cuts, and a ring of raw wood shown through a bout knee high off the ground. Etra had given them marks to go by, and they had followed them expertly.
Ooga reached down and stabbed her digging stick into the ground next to a small clump of bright green, wide leaves with soft points on them. Etra watched and nodded to the young girl when she looked up at her for approval. Ooga shifted her weight on the stick, and broke up the dirt and pulled it out to do it again where the loose dirt ended.
Etra knelt down next to Ooga, and after her third stab she helped the young girl pull free a trio of fat tubers. Etra handed Ooga her knife, and she cut the thin roots away from the bulbous, thick sections of the roots. They placed them in a shallow gathering basket and got up to look around for more.
Troog shifted position, and made the final series of chops. When he finished, he walked around the tree slowly to check his work. He hadn't missed anything, he was done with this portion of the task. Troog examined the edge of the axe head, pleased that it had sustained no real damage. What a fine tool this was, he thought, never has a chore like this been so quick and easy.
Draag could tell what Troog was thinking about, he had felt the same way when he had chopped around the perimeter of the tree himself. The tools that they had all been given by the Others were the finest any of them had ever owned. He took the axe from Troog, and knelt down next to the tree again.
Troog watched as Draag used the sharp axe to cut through the bark in a thin line, pulling it straight down from the top cut line to the bottom. He didn't chop, he just pressed the sharp edge against the bark and pressed hard as he traced the line over and over. The cut deepened quickly, and by the fifth repetition, he felt the hardness of the solid wood through the layer of bark. Draag went ahead and made two more cuts to be sure, then set the axe aside.
Troog pulled his bone handled flint knife from the sheath on his belt and knelt down next to Draag. Draag pulled his own knife, and together they started cutting the bark free from the trunk of the tree through the tough wood fibers.
It was slow, tedious work. When they had the bark free about a fingers length all the way down, Troog set his knife down and grasped the bark with both hands. He carefully pulled against it, and it started separating from the trunk slowly. Draag leaned in and used his knife to cut clinging wood fibers that held on to the bark as Troog pulled on it.
Together, they worked their way all the way around the tree. They worked together in a slow, deliberate manner. The two men paused and moved around the tree incrementally as they worked. It took a while, but the bark came off in a single, large piece without a single tear.
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The net needed a little repair. Rug and Borg worked it over, adding cordage and tying new knots where necessary.
Brug knocked the three fish in the head, and both women went to work cleaning them. Two of the fish were plump with roe.
When the net was finished, the men got together to go back into the river for another round. This was almost too easy, Crag thought, watching Brug hop down into the cold water. The young hunter was excited, and it showed in his body movements. Crag felt a little chill of excitement himself as he stepped down into the water, and felt a little younger for the briefest of moments.
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Mog-ur found a serene spot just up from the bank of the river in the shade of a short tree. He sat down and made himself comfortable in the short green grass and relaxed. Mog-ur closed his eyes and began to breathe deeply, and began to clear his mind.
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Rug and Troog man handled the oblong shaped, flat, thin river rock between them. Even as thin as it was, it was still rather heavy and cumbersome. It was difficult for them to walk together over the rocky ground covered with patches of green grass. The grass covered and camouflaged some of the stones, and tripping and stepping on them was easy to do. They were almost back to camp, and both men sweat rivers from their efforts in the heat at the end of the day.
Crag and Inca approached them from the south, both heavily laden with dead fall they had just gathered from the edge of the tree line. They continued on back to camp together.
Aba had the fire well stoked, the bright flames reached up as high as a man was tall, and the heat projected out strongly in shimmering waves. She was intent on getting a heavy coal bed built up, and kept the fuel coming every time the fire burned down even a little bit. It was hot, sweaty work, and her wavy hair was streaked with wetness.
Etra set up a tripod with a large hanging skin full of water. It sat well away from the fire in the shade. She dumped two full water bags into it, then walked back down to the river to fill them again. It took five water bags to fill the hanging skin to the level where she wanted it. She then took the long, thick roll of birch bark and lay it into the water to soak, and weighted it down on each end with two flat stones to keep it completely submerged.
Ova and Brug finished up the last two salmon. A little earlier, Brug had volunteered to help, and Ova enjoyed teaching him the finer points of cleaning the large, meaty fish after getting over the initial discomfort of a man doing women's work. Brug was well skilled with his knife, deftly coordinated with his hands, and learned very quickly. She hardly ever had to show him anything twice, though some things took a little practice for him to get just right.
Draag grabbed the next to last carcass and carried it down to the river. He slung it as hard as he could far out into the water, letting the current carry it on downstream. He returned to fetch the last fish to dispose of it the same way.
The hunters had caught a total of seven salmon in three tries, one was almost as long as Brug was tall. Crag had called that one an 'old mother', and she did indeed provide an abundance of bright pink roe. Brug marveled at the size of the stripped carcass, what a big, powerful fish, he thought. This had been his first fishing experience as a Clan hunter, and what a thrill it was. Brug hoped they would fish again tomorrow, that was fun.
**********
Mog-ur took a deep breath and stood up. His legs and back were a little stiff from sitting motionless for as long as he had been in meditation. Mog-ur had meditated the entire afternoon away, exploring old, familiar memories of Clan meetings past and friends and fellow mog-urs he would likely never see again. This thought saddened him, but the familiar memories filled him with the companionship of his peers that he lacked.
He had tried to find specific examples of different Clans that had broken with any of the old traditions, but he found it very difficult to stay concentrated on the idea. The day was just too much of a beautiful distraction for him to be as serious as he needed to be to search his memories in depth for those types of specific things. The shade was cool, the breeze light and pleasantly gusting, and the sounds of the moving waters of the river were entirely too soft and soothing. What a nice, peaceful place this is, he thought.
Mog-ur stretched, leaning over at the waist first to his left side, then to his right. He felt instant relief when his lower back popped a few times, and repeated the action to get a few more. Mog-ur heard a soft rustling in the leaves behind him, and he turned around slowly and lifted the butt of his spear off the ground and turned it with the sharp tip facing in front of him, waist high. His eyes searched for the source of the movement through the trees and the streaks of shade, nothing. Nothing. There.
Three grey wolves—no, another, four. They stood perfectly still now in the shadows of the trees, their coloring blending them into the background and the shade rather well. Three of the wolves were scrunched down, hard to see even knowing where they were. The fourth stood square, standing tall and facing the Mog-ur proudly. He showed no hint of fear.
He was the closest wolf, and stared straight at him, looking directly into his eyes. Mog-ur felt no real fear, he had never been afraid of grey wolves, they were his totem after all. The two wolves well back from the leader started backing off slowly, ever so slowly with barely a sound made.
Mog-ur made a sign, slowly and gracefully directed at the lead wolf. 'Thank you for a lifetime of your wisdom, guidance, and protection.'
The wolf took a sudden step back at the beginning of the movement, then stopped and watched intently until Mog-ur had finished and was still again. The magnificent wolf sat back on his haunches boldly. He cocked his head and opened his mouth, his brilliant white teeth glistening, and let his tongue loll down to the side. The wolf paused for a long, serene moment then lifted his nose up and down in a subtle motion and whined softly. He then held his gaze again, unblinking and confident. He held this pose for a little while, then yipped softly. In a fluid, graceful motion stood and turned away from Mog-ur to trot back into the thick cover of the trees. The remaining wolf followed him, and they were all completely out of sight in a hurry.
Mog-ur watched them go, feeling a wave of warmth envelope inside. What incredibly beautiful, powerful animals, he thought proudly. He made the familiar, 'Walk with Ursus' sign, then turned and started back to camp in no particular hurry, his spirit feeling content, light and free.
**********
Rug and Crag rearranged the border rocks at one end of the fire, they used sticks to move them around and get them placed as the fire still burned high and hot. The glowing coal bed was large and wide, and getting higher. When they had the rocks arranged the way they wanted them, they backed away from the intense heat, sweating. The cool air away from the stifling heat of the fire felt good and they filled their lungs with deep breaths, over and over as they cooled down.
Troog and Borg stood on each side of the flat rock, and waited for Rug and Crag to come over and help. Together the four men carried it over to the fire and set it down on top the arranged rocks. By the time they finished settling the river rock into place, it hung over into the fire pit a little over half way.
The four men looked to Aba and Inca who had stood by and watched them place the stone, Inca nodded gratefully and the men walked back down toward the river. They passed Brug and Ova walking back to camp carrying a hide between them heavy and loaded up with cleaned fish and roe.
When they reached the river, all of them waded out into the cool moving water and cleaned themselves and cooled off. Rug saw a wide smooth stone on the bottom and sat down, the water reached up to the middle of his shoulders. He dipped his head forward and under the surface of the water and turned side to side. He lifted his head out and slung his thick mane of dark wavy hair back, spraying Troog in front of him. Troog looked at him with an unusual, surprised look on his strongly featured face, then reached down and splashed Rug in the face with a sudden swipe of both his powerful hands.
Crag and Borg watched the byplay, then Borg's face was splashed from his left, he had been looking right. He turned and saw Crag in the act of splashing him again, and reached down to return the favor. Rug splashed him from the blind side, and then Troog got him too.
Brug heard the splashing as he approached the river, he wondered what in the world the hunters were doing. What he saw amused him greatly. It was a water fight, and it was the hunters that were seemingly having a lot of fun doing it. How strange, he thought, then doffed his light wrap and hopped in to join them.
Crag and Troog saw him coming out of the corner of their eyes, and as soon as the youngest hunter was in the river and close enough, they started in on him. Water cascaded at Brug from all directions, and he started splashing back, his deep brown eyes glistening with enjoyment. It was truly a melee in the shallows of the river.
Brug splashed back at the older men with all the fervor of youth, for the briefest of moments, he felt at one with the hunters. An equal.
Rug sat calmly in the water watching his hunters enjoying themselves, feeling young again for the first time in a long, long time. For now, the worries and responsibilities of being the leader washed away from him in the gentle current of the cool, refreshing water.
**********
Ova took the bone platter from Aba, it was full of cracked wheat, oats, and chopped up pine nuts. She and Aba walked back over to where Inca was putting the final touches of ground up flavorings on the clean filets of salmon. There was quite a pile of meat, and the platter she had them stacked on was wide and brimming high.
Etra came over with several tools fashioned from wide, palmate antlers. They all met at the flat rock at the far end of the fire. Ova took a long stick and began pushing some of the coals up under the rock. It took a while, but the coals piled up under the rock began to emit shimmering waves of heat that escaped around the front edges of the flat stone.
Ova sprinkled a generous amount of the cracked grains onto the far edge of the stone. When she had it covered with a fine layer, Ova dropped the first slab of salmon on the rock. It sizzled when it touched the stone, and she continued laying out pieces of fish close to each other. Thin wisps of fragrant smoke curled and rose up into the breeze, tantalizing and teasing the women.
Ova used one of the antler tools to scoop up a slab of salmon and look at the bottom side of it to see how done it was. It was browned nicely, and she flipped it over. She went on to the next one.
Mog-ur caught the scent of the cooking fish as he wandered along the rocky bank of the wide river. Without thinking about it he quickened his step toward the delicious aromas, his mouth starting to water.
**********
Rug burped loudly, it was echoed by Crag and Borg in quick succession. The Clan sat around the low fire, bellies full and more than a little content. They were all freshly clean and smelling nice from bathing in the river. Most of them still had wet hair.
The meal had been exquisite and everyone ate more than they probably should have. The crunchy light covering of toasted grains and nuts on the salmon added a unique, distinctly different flavor to the already tasty fish slabs. There was plenty left over, and Brug nibbled a piece he picked up after dropping his empty plate on the stack of platters that needed to be cleaned.
The sun started to slide out of sight through the trees, and the cool breeze increased slightly. It had been a busy, but relaxed day compared to the last several days of travel through the bountiful valley. It was good to relax, even if it was for a short time.
Etra checked the birch bark that she had soaking in the hanging skin, it felt soft enough to work. She walked back to Draag and knelt down in front of him. When he tapped her shoulder, she looked up and signed. 'It is time to treat leg.'
Draag nodded, and got up to follow the medicine woman. Aba followed them over to a log in the shade where Draag sat down. A small pile of supplies lay near the end of the log. She assisted the medicine woman as they took off the wrapped outer skins. The strips were sticky and stiff, and it took a good deal of strength to pull them off as they were wrapped tightly around his muscular leg.
If Draag had any discomfort during all the tugging and pulling, he didn't show it. When they had all the leather strips piled between them, the medicine woman examined the hard clay cast. It had numerous cracks in it, most of them small, but structurally it still looked sound.
Etra studied the hardened mud for a moment, then pulled an old Clan knife from a pouch in her belt. She looked at the wide, flat edge, it was still very sharp. Etra placed the sharp edge of the knife in the widest crack at the center of the calf, Draag watched her every move. When Etra pushed the sharp edge into the crack and pressed it a little deeper, he looked up at the trees out in front of him. Though he would never admit it, it scared him to have such a sharp blade that close to his flesh. He trusted Etra, but he didn't have to watch.
With a controlled twist, the top of the crack grew slightly. Etra took a deep breath and pressed the blade in a little deeper and twisted the heavy flint flake again. The crack opened up again, and the soft, muffled sound of the cast breaking rippled down Draag's calf. He exhaled loudly, then took another deep breath.
Etra pulled the knife down through the widening fissure, and when it got tight she twisted it again. This time the cast cracked open all the way to his ankle.
Draag felt the pressure increase on his leg slightly, then suddenly the leg felt light as the pressure of the cast subsided entirely. He had to look down, his curiosity getting the best of him. Etra grasped the cast at the break, and pulled it apart with her strong hands. It came apart in three large sections.
The wraps of leather around his leg under where the cast was looked dark brown and stiff. They were not only stiff, but they smelled terrible as Etra started unwinding the top strap. The were still sticky and stiff, and it was a laborious process to get the top two layers off.
Etra paused, laying the corkscrew shaped dried leather next to her on the ground between her and Aba.
'This will hurt, do you want something for the pain before I continue?' She signed. Draag nodded his head, shrugging off any pain medicine, what was a little pain to a man?
Etra pulled the strap at his ankle, and when it started coming free, Draag grimaced. The wrap pulled almost all the hair from his leg as it came loose grudgingly. By the time Etra was at the bottom of his knee, Draag almost wished he had taken some of Etra's pain medicine.
Draag looked down at his leg. It was bright pink and almost hairless, embarrassingly so. After getting over the pain and the shock of seeing his leg like this, Draag realized how much better the leg felt. He looked back at the leg, and saw little patches of dried looking skin in clumps and he flexed his ankle. It hurt, but only from the stiffness of an ankle that hadn't been bent in a long time.
'How long will the new cast have to stay on?' He signed, flexing the muscles of his calf.
'Half a moon cycle, then this hunter will be whole again.' Etra signed, seeing the disappointment in his face. Men are so impatient, she thought.
Etra retrieved the birch bark from the hanging basket, while Aba scrubbed down Draag's lower leg with a piece of badger fur. The excess skin came off, and with it the bad smell started to dissipate.
Etra sat down with the dripping curl of bark, and started the process of fitting it to the hunter's leg. She trimmed it to length first with her bone handled flint knife, then got the width established little by little from test fitting it as she went. When she finally had the shape she was looking for, she set it down and Aba helped her wrap the leg with new leather straps, two layers thick.
The birch bark was very flexible from side to side, but pretty stiff top to bottom. Together, she and Aba wrapped it around the leg and got it settled correctly, then Etra held it in place while Aba wrapped leather straps around it to hold it securely. When they finished, Draag marveled at how much lighter it felt than the last one.
'You must not put any weight on the leg until the bark is fully hard.' Etra signed. 'It will be late tomorrow or the following morning before it is ready at the earliest.'
Draag nodded, he liked the feel of the new cast. This will be much easier to walk on, he thought to himself.
'This man is grateful, medicine woman.' He signed, and looked back at their handiwork.
Etra nodded, and she and Aba gathered up the discarded materials to take them away.
**********
Crag and Brug had the second watch duty. Crag sat at the camp fire while Brug made another round, circling the camp going from one perimeter fire to the next. Crag dipped a cup of tea, and nibbled on some cold salmon he pulled from a folded skin. His stomach was still full, but it just tasted so good he couldn't resist.
The moon shone bright through the trees overhead, a bright crescent in a sea of darkness framed with twinkling stars. The breeze came from the southeast, soft and cool. Wolves howled from all around them, some near, but most far away.
Owls hooted and screeched, and nighthawks screamed out in triumph as they caught their meals. A pair of dark, long winged bats dipped down into the firelight of the southern fire in erratic flight again and again, chasing moths and other small flying insects. The mosquitos were out in force tonight, and both guards had multiple bites, mostly on their bare arms and necks.
The tea was exquisite, a mix of alfalfa, raspberry leaf, and very thinly sliced strawberries that were much too tart to eat by themselves. Etra had put this particular mix together, and it tasted better and better as the night wore on. It was a large basket, and still well over half full.
A few songbirds were becoming active in the woods, their soft songs beginning sporadically throughout the depths of the forest. Their early songs signaling in the imminent coming of the dawn.
Brug walked back into the light of the central fire and sat down next to Crag. He dipped himself another cup of the tart and tangy tea. Crag was examining a thin piece of bone that had two of the barbed spear points in progress. Both had a long way to go before they would be cut completely free from the rest of the bone, but the shapes were outlined deeply, and masterfully designed.
Every hunter, even including the Mog-ur had been working on some phase of the new spears when they retired for the evening. Troog and Borg had taken the first watch, and they had taken turns working on this set of bone points. Brug had worked on them as well, between his rounds. Crag handed the bone to Brug, who looked to see which of the two points he wanted to work on next.
A large flock of waterfowl soared past them, the beating of their wings was the only indication that they had gone by in the dark sky. Brug's heart beat a little faster, wondering if Crag would hunt these birds with him when dawn grew nearer. It was still fully dark out, and Brug wondered how they could see to fly at all. He pulled his knife from its scabbard on his belt, and angled the bone into the light to start tracing over the indented shape.
The next time Brug looked up, he saw Crag sitting with his head slightly lowered. By the sound of his even breathing, he figured the older hunter was napping. He got up and set the bone down, and grabbed his spear and walked the outer fires again. Each fire had burned down pretty low, and Brug added fresh sticks to them and got them all burning bright and tall again.
More birdsongs came from the forest, and he was getting a little anxious. If they were going hunting this morning, they would need to wake another hunter to take the rest of the watch, and it needed to be soon. Brug finished up at the third, and last, fire then walked back to the camp fire. Crag was awake again, and he sat down facing him from across the fire.
'Should we hunt for ducks or geese this morning?' He signed, trying not to show how badly he wanted to go.
Crag thought for a little while without answering, it made Brug crazy to wait for his reply, and his impatience did not escape Crag.
'If you wish to go out and hunt, I'll finish the watch by myself.' Crag signed, finally. 'I think I want stay here though, I'm a little tired this morning.'
Brug couldn't believe it, he didn't expect to be allowed to hunt here on his own. Rug had told all members of the Clan to stay in pairs after dark, they had seen too many signs and tracks of bears, wolves, and even a few large cats. Brug nodded, trying not to look too terribly enthused, and looked over to where his barbed spears lay between them off to the side of the fire. They had been used for examples by the other hunters who were working on making spears of their own like them. They all had their cords attached and coiled up at the butts of the spears in a nice, neat arrangement.
'Don't go too far, and stay close to the river. Use the darkness to get into position, but be out of sight well before the sun comes up.' Crag signed. 'Be patient, and let them get close and well within range before you try for them.'
'Yes, "Crag", I will.' Brug replied, then finished off his tea and got up to gather his gear. It didn't take long for him to have his twin scabbards slung across his back, and his favorite throwing spear in his hand. He nodded to Crag, who looked like he might just take another short nap, and walked out toward the southern fire.
Brug disappeared quickly into the darkness. He stopped at the far edge of the firelight and let his eyes get used to the uneven blackness that lay out before him. He breathed lightly, and opened his mouth a little bit to allow him to hear and smell better. He could taste the tangy scent of pine needles, and could actually smell the river water to his right. His eyes came into focus gradually, and he walked slowly and quietly on south.
Another flock of birds went by, and he stopped to listen, hoping he could hear the splashes of them as they lit on the river. He did hear some of them, but they went down a little farther down stream. Brug started walking again, almost silently, picking his way through a patch of scattered brush. He stayed between the brush and the river banks, and listened as closely as he could for any movement anywhere around him.
Out in front of him, he saw the same four bushes that he and Crag had used as a hiding place the day before. Brug decided that he would use the same spot again, the last time had proved fruitful, why not now?
The young hunter settled into the brush, and hunkered down to wait. It took a little time to get his three spears laid out with the cords coiled within easy reach in the dark. He heard the soft cackling of ducks on the water to the southeast coming from south side of the river. The water and the rocky banks had a tendency to reflect the sound in strange ways, and it was hard to ascertain the actual direction of the sounds.
His heart beat faster as he stole a brief glance up at the sky, wondering how long the sun would stay asleep. Waiting was the hardest part of hunting by far, he thought to himself. Brug was much more used to stalking his intended prey, and he wasn't used to the hide and wait ambush method that Crag had said was best to hunt waterfowl. He took another deep breath and tried to calm his rapidly beating heart. And he waited.
Brug stared through the bottom of the brush, the first light of the day was slowly beginning to glisten off the ripples on top of the river. He could make out a few dark shapes moving around on the water, but none of them were close yet. His excitement grew as he could make out more and more shapes as the light slowly increased. He heard wings again, and tried not to move as they soared over him, and he heard the distinct sounds of the birds landing in the water, some of them sounded close.
When Brug lifted his head enough to see through the brush, he gulped. Four ducks were close, close enough for him to see that two of them had bright green heads and the other two were light brown. Moving ever so slowly, he picked up the nearest spear and coil of thin rope. Brug never took his eyes off the ducks. They didn't see him, and he wanted to keep it that way.
They swam and ducked under water, but so far they had developed no rhythm to their movements. No more than two ducks were submerged at the same time. It was getting harder and harder for Brug to be patient, they were moving slowly away from him now, and he liked his chances while they were closer.
Three ducks ducked under water at the same time, and the fourth was looking away from him, it was now or never, he thought. Brug slowly rose up, when he got to eye level at the top of the bush, he slowed watching the lone duck turn slightly toward him. The water split and the three ducks bobbed back onto the surface, Brug stood the rest of the way up and sighted on the nearest green headed duck and let the light spear fly.
The cast was ever so slightly rushed, and he knew the chances of a hit were slim when he let it go. The cord unwound perfectly from his hand. He was right, the spear flew too far, sailing over the top of the duck and splashing softly into the water behind him. The ducks were instantly spooked, and took to the air in short order. The rest of the ducks in his line of sight followed, and Brug was left alone by himself at the bank of the river.
Brug watched the ducks go on downstream, and it looked like some of them didn't go very far. He didn't actually see any of them light, but several of them had their wings set in descent. Brug stepped out from the cover of the brush, and pulled in his errant spear, winding the cord like Crag had shown him as he did. He was a little flustered at himself for missing, but he knew what he had done wrong so it wasn't bothering him as much as it normally would have. The boy was very accurate with his normal throwing spears, but these were new and presented him with a challenge. Brug gathered the rest of his spears and looked back to the woods.
Daylight was creeping in, and Brug moved quickly and quietly back to the edge of the woods. He headed south downstream, staying just out of sight of the water. Brug watched for any good cover close to the banks as he went, and when he thought he had gone far enough south, he slowed to look over the landscape more intently.
There were a few scattered bushes, some pretty close to what looked like the drop off down to the river, but it was hard to be sure. He went on further down the tree line, looking for better cover to sneak up on the river. Up ahead, it started looking better.
When Brug stopped the next time, he heard a strange sound. A heavier, more active sound of moving water. It was hard to tell what it actually was, but he decided to check it out. The brush here was a little thicker, and he thought he could sneak from bush to bush and stay concealed. Brug bent over as low as he could and started for the first bush to the south. It was still fairly easy to move quietly, and the songbirds were out in force now, singing from all directions. Their songs would help to mask any errant sounds he made.
Brug made it to the first bush, and looked through it, the river was still out of sight. He bent down and scampered to the next close bush. From here, he could see the far edge of the river in a few places through the brush, and he even saw a duck in the water. Brug plotted out his next move, and took off. The next cover was a line of three small bushes, thin from being grazed on. He spotted his next objective, and moved on, quiet as a cat.
From here, he could see a rocky drop off at the far edge of the river, it looked to possibly be a small waterfall. Brug was about to move on closer, to the cover of a willow when he heard a strange sound. He froze, and listened. There it was again, a low grunting sound and a loud splash. A few moments later, he heard it again, this time the sound seemed to be a lot closer.
Brug paused, and thought about it for a little bit. He heard the same kind of sounds again, and tried to figure out what it could be. Brug had no luck, he knew he should be able to identify this strange set of sounds, but he couldn't place them. His curiosity was definitely building. He plotted his route to the willow, and ducked down and moved out of the cover of the brush. It was light enough now to prevent any missteps, and he was able to be very quiet as he made his way to the single tree.
The willow limbs were fully leafed out and hung all the way down to the ground all the way around the tree. When he pulled the small, flexible limbs apart to peer inside, he could hear the rushing water of the river well, it was really close now and a lot louder. Brug pulled his throwing spear up and snuck to the far edge of the tree within the cover of the leafy branches. It was a little tricky working his way through the lower branches of the tree quietly, but he managed to get to the other side without making too much noise. He reached out with the point of the spear to pull the branches apart, and froze at the low growl he heard that came from just past the tree to the south that he was in the middle of.
Brug felt the chill bumps spreading all over his body in waves. That was a sound he knew, and their were few animals in Ursus' vast world more unpredictable and dangerous. That was a bear's growl. He took a deep breath, and pulled the limbs apart slowly.
The river seemed to end at a long, rocky crag. Three brown bears stood on all fours on the rocks, two near the far shore and the other right out in front of him to his left. The bears looked down into the water, and stood motionless. Brug watched, fascinated and afraid at the same time. Ducks and geese were all over the surface of the river, well away from the three bears grouped together in small clusters.
A flash of silver popped out of the water in front of the closest bear, and the bear grabbed it in her huge jaws. Brug could hear the crunch of the fish, and watched as the bear slung her head to her left and threw the large fish up onto the banks and out of sight. The bear returned to her position, laying in wait for the next salmon fighting his way up river and over the small waterfall.
Brug forgot all about the ducks and geese, and watched the bears in action.
To the far edge of the crag, a fish jumped up and soared between the two other bears, escaping the trap and going on upstream. The next one wasn't so lucky, and ended up on the far bank in the rocks.
Brug stood crouched down and stayed completely still, watching this magnificent show of cunning and skill. Escape and capture. He jumped when the bear that was farthest away growled, Brug looked in the direction that the bear was turned in time to see a wolverine dragging a salmon away as fast as his short legs could carry him. The bear growled again, but the wolverine kept going, disappearing quickly into the underbrush on the far shore. A fresh wave of goose flesh enveloped the young hunter, it was a really ominous sound.
The sudden sound of a fish hitting the ground just to his left outside the cover of the willow got his attention. The fish flopped a time or two and was still. Brug heard another low pitched growl, and looked back across the river to see another bear with two young cubs tagging along behind her walk out from the brush and toward the far shore. The cubs bounded toward one of the fish laying prone on the rocks, and started a good natured fight over it. They ignored the other fish that littered the area, and ripped this one apart, growling and swiping at each other.
Brug had seen enough, and slowly made his way back through the lower branches of the willow. His healthy fear gave him the ability to move in almost total silence. When he reached the other end of the tree, he peered out through the leafy branches. He didn't see anything, but he kept watch for a little while, not wanting to run head on into another bear.
Taking a deep breath, Brug moved out of the cover of the willow, crouched over and trotting off through the scattered brush. It was all he could do to not look back over his shoulder as he ran, he knew that the safest plan was to put them all behind him. Way behind him. Besides, it would do him no good at all to trip and fall here. He made the tree line without incident, and sped up a little more to get back to camp as quick as he could.
Brug couldn't wait to tell the hunters all he had seen, it was something he would never forget. Ever.