Chapter Twenty Five
Rocks, Mud, and Rainbows
Part One
Brenan was tired of the rain. This was the fourth day in a row that it had come down without a break, and everything in the camp was damp at the very least, and completely soaked in most cases. It was a constant, steady shower, and the ground had long since been completely saturated. He sat with Thorec and Tathan in the relatively dry area under a hide covered lean-to at the southwest perimeter fire, working on developing a new tool on the damp paving stones.
The cane poles that Tulie and her crew had brought in varied in diameter rather dramatically, and the larger ones had proved to be overly difficult to use. Gathered up and cut to length to make walls out of, the different sizes presented numerous problems and the original idea of the preferred method of construction had to be abandon.
Tathan and Thorec had come up with an possible alternate method of how to construct the walls, and Brenan had been sold on it. Listening to what they had in mind, he had come up with an idea for a specialized tool to make it all possible. The three of them sat down and talked out the difficult specifics of the new tool, and began building it, working out the kinks as they did.
So far, they had split a short log and scraped it flat on one side. Tathan was busy cutting two deep gouges close together in the center of the flat, while Thorec and Brenan chipped away on pair of flint wedges that were sharp and thin on one side.
The small fire popped and sputtered, putting off a tremendous amount of smoke as the rain continually tried its best to extinguish it.
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The main lodge was no more than a series of poles planted deeply into the earth at measured intervals. A pair of horizontal cane poles were tied to the support poles. One about halfway up and the other just short of the top, both wrapping all the way around the sizable structure with only a single break in the center pole at the future doorway. Three men worked on a last row of horizontal poles about ankle high above the steadily growing rock ledge.
A short rock wall was being constructed three to four rocks high all along the back side of the sparse structure, when complete, it would run all the way around the building except for the narrow entrance passage. This helped to divert the run off of water from the gentle slope, and when finished should keep the floor of the lodge from being further saturated.
The building of the wall was dirty, hard work and well over a dozen people were involved. Some gathering and toting rock, others out cutting grass, and a few more mixing the black mud with the cut grass to make a heavy mixture used to seat the stones of the wall with. The rest stacked rocks.
All work had been temporarily shifted back to the campsite. Forced by immediate necessity, they build wide paths of flat rock with narrow breaks in it for small drainage channels to allow mud free movement throughout the area. They placed paving stones all around the central fire pit, and well beyond in all directions.
A pair of wide, slanted lean-tos were fashioned from cane poles and aurochs hides and erected to partially shield the main fire from two directions. Several others gave relief from the rain in other areas where the normal daily chores were performed. Two were set up to shield the largest three seating logs, another covered the food prep area, and both perimeter fires had a lean-to shielding the stacks of firewood and a semi-dry place to work.
Both tents were severely water logged now and extra support poles had to be added hold up the sagging skins. Water seeped through in several places where the skins were stitched together and the ground was getting harder and harder to keep dry inside. A short rock wall was set up to divert the run off on the high side, but still some got through.
Brug and his hunters were the only ones excused from the work at the camp, and as usual they had left well before the sun came up. So far, they had not returned empty handed yet, though some days they didn't returned until late in the afternoon.
Nude and nearly nude people were everywhere. Adding to the paved areas, working on the short lodge and tent walls, gathering more rocks, carving out small drainage troughs, it was a busy, bustling place.
The rain fell steadily.
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Brenan pressed the thin wedge of flint into the deep gouge of the flat side of the piece of log. It was tight, and he had a hard time fitting it into the groove with the sharp edge sticking out. He had already nicked his hand twice setting the first blade, and the deep red blood made dark splotches as it soaked into the light brown wood. With a final push, the wedge seated.
"Good job." Thorec said as Brenan sat back, examining his hands for any fresh wounds. He was pleasantly surprised to find none.
There were two wedges of flint side by side about three finger widths apart, sticking up from the flat at angles. They were similar in size and in the angle in which they stuck up out from the smooth, flat surface of the split log.
"Care to give it a try?" Tathan asked, holding up a small piece of off fall from a cane pole as big around as his forearm.
Brenan grinned, and nodded to Thorec who took the cane and set the log tool onto the stone floor in front of him. Thorec rolled the pole over in his hands a couple of times, then got a secure grip on it and set the end of the pole against the two sharp pieces of flint. He set the pole flat down on the smooth surface of the log and pressed forward.
The cane pushed up against the flint blades slightly, then settled back down as the blades sheared through the thin walls of the cane. Thorec pressed on, splitting the cane cleanly. When he got to the end, he pushed it through, leaving a wide strip of gently curved cane lying on the log. Thorec handed the neatly cut strip to Brenan.
"Wow." Tathan said.
"It works, how about that?" Brenan muttered with satisfaction, his soft voice.
Thorec took the cane and set it back down in front of the blades again, this time measuring out an approximate distance to his left that was about the same width as the sliced piece. He pushed the cane through again, coming away with two more strips, neatly cut. With one more push, the cane pole was now five nearly equal size strips.
"Let's try it on a full size pole." Brenan said, smiling broadly as he pressed a small square of skin against the deeper nick in the side of his hand.
"You got it." Tathan said, hopping up to fetch some of the cut poles from the huge piles near the lodge.
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Tulie and Latie worked together on the woven mat of split cane. They would get a small section done, then stop to press it all tightly together. One thing they noticed was that the split ribbons of cane flexed well when wet, even as the mat itself stiffened. The natural curve to each strip flattened under the tightness of the weave as they pressed it hard and close enough together that no sizable gaps were left to be seen. The mat was growing quickly, and Thorec had already trimmed the jagged edge on one side back into a straight line.
Brenan and Tathan ripped more cane on the new stripping tool, and had a good size pile already stacked up. They found it easier to have four hands instead of two to hold the long poles straight as they pushed them through, Brenan held on close to the cutting blades, while Tathan pushed from the rear. The tool worked exceptionally well.
Vincavec brought over two thin cane poles. One was cut to the length of the height of the walls of the lodge, while the other was cut to the width between the support poles. When he laid the height pole over the ever growing mat, he smiled to find that the first one was over halfway tall enough already. The width wasn't quite as close, but at the speed the women worked, it wouldn't be much longer.
As the mat grew, it got increasingly stiff. Vincavec was impressed at how much structure it would add when tied securely onto the outer poles. This stuff was stout.
Matera and Regan wandered over to see this new technique that was being talked about all over the camp. Both women were renowned basket makers, and after watching and listening to newly revised techniques and methods for a little bit, decided to help. It wasn't long before there were two growing mats.
Brenan and Tathan sped up their efforts as the pile of strips began to diminish. Vincavec noticed how low the pile of poles they were pulling from had gotten, and went off to bring over another load.
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The walls of the lodge were completed in three days, though hard to see it while they worked, the constant rain actually helped. With everything wet and saturated, the cane mats stayed flexible enough to be placed around the support poles and tied together and to the heavy vertical poles. The ease in which the soft mud was mixed and handled allowed the short rock wall to be completed in short order as well.
It was difficult handling the heavy woven mats, and it took a lot of strong hands to position and hold them while they were secured. Narrow strips of thin walled cane were meticulously cut and used as the main method of tying everything off, the small diameter vines had a tendency to stretch too much when this saturated.
Talut, Danag, and Branag cut thick cane poles to length and used them as additional structure between the vertical support poles imbedded deeply in the ground. Stretching across the width of the lodge up at the top of the walls, they out ran past the vertical poles a hands width, and were secured with multiple wrappings of stripped cane. A couple of the horizontal support poles had to be pushed back to plumb, pulled outward with the weight of the woven matting. Once the cross members were secured, the support poles stayed straight.
The last of the paving stones were being fit together, now the whole floor of the lodge was covered with the exception of two small fire pits. These had been placed in the center of the width of the lodge, at equal distances from each far wall.
Vincavec and Rymar worked on designing and building an entrance door. It was thought that flaps of hide like they were used to using in the past would be too susceptible to rot with the frequency of rain and heavy humidity of this new land. Thus far, Frebec and Barzec, assisted by Crisavec of course, had built a small, rectangular frame of cane poles twice the diameter of Frebec's thumb. Barzec used a Clan styled flint knife to cut more cane poles to length, creating a small triangle at each corner of the rectangular frame. Cutting the poles at this odd angle was time consuming, but when set in place and wrapped tight the tall frame stiffened accordingly.
Latie and Matera used thin strips of cane to weave a cover for the frame, this mat would be much lighter than the ones they made for the walls. The thin walled, smaller diameter cane was light, but proved to be quite strong when woven tightly.
Brenan and Wymez tried to figure out a way to secure the door to the opening in such a way that it would open and close. This proved to be a real challenge.
The roof proved to be the one component of the lodge that left them baffled. So far, no construction technique had been figured out. Several small groups worked on small projects, building miniature versions of their ideas, nothing fruitful had yet been developed.
On the thirteenth day, the rain finally ceased and left a stifling, thick humidity in its place.
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"That just might work." Talut said with an excited edge to his always optimistic voice.
"We make the triangles on the ground, and then lift them up to the walls and secure them to the cross braces." Frebec said, explaining his idea in greater detail this odd idea. He manipulated the small twigs he had fashioned in a long triangle with two sticks running parallel at the shorter base.
"We hook the space between these sticks over the support poles, the tie them loosely. Then, after we have two of them secured, we can lift them up and let them meet at the center over the lodge." He grinned as he continued, pulling three of the miniature triangles together at a point.
"Then we tie them together at the top where they overlap and the basic frame should be secured."
"And, if we leave a gap at the highest point, we have a smoke hole already in place." Talut added with an infectious smile of his own.
Every man in the small circle smiled as they pondered this extraordinary idea. They all looked for flaws in the technique, but the more they all thought about it the better it sounded.
"This sounds good for the ends, but what about the long span between the end triangles?" Danug asked, his brow furrowed in thought. That is a long way for the small canes to have to go and still hold up whatever we use for a skin."
It got quiet for a moment, then Wymez broke the silence picking up one of the extra miniature triangles.
"Why couldn't we add two more triangles between the ends for support. We could hold them apart with cross braces before we tie them together with horizontal canes that run from end to end."
Frebec was the first to grasp Wymez' idea, and in his mind the last piece of the puzzle fell into place. That would work, he thought as he constructed the complicated roof in his mind.
Starting slowly, an all new discussion gathered speed as the idea was examined, added to, and dissected in exhausting detail. In the end, a plan developed and the men scattered to gather more cane and to begin work with what they had.
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Draag stood on the top of the ledge, gazing at the next flat terrace below. This would be one of the most difficult parts of the trail down the side of the cliff, it was a steep, sheer drop. He thought about the best way to bridge the tall gap, there was no easy answer.
If we stack rocks to make a stairway, he considered, it will have to stretch out for a long way. Too long, the terrace below is just too narrow, and the path needs to turn back to the other direction where the slant is more easily passable anyway. We might make a way down with wood, this would take less space, his thoughts continued. The Others are good at this, making things from wood, this may be possible. Draag continued his musings, solving this part of the path was important, until they got past this obstacle, nothing else mattered.
Down below in the flats, the herds moved about in almost slow motion, at least it seemed from this far away. Draag had a hard time concentrating from the lingering thoughts of being able to hunt down there. It was such a distraction, there were so many animals. So many meals. The hunter in him so wanted to get down there.
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Brug led his hunters back into camp, a huge waterbuck hung between the carrying poles. Though he was growing accustomed to the persistent praise of the camp, it still gave him a huge sense of satisfaction at the welcome they always received when they returned.
This buck was even bigger than the first they had killed, and it took all five hunters to carry the heavy beast. They all dripped with sweat, the humidity was absolutely stifling. When they dropped him off at the designated cleaning and butchering area, all five of them breathed a heavy sigh of relief.
Inca and Brecie hurried over with a small basket full of knives, platters, and other tools. Ooga followed, her favorite, freshly sharpened knife in her hand.
Troog and Salen stayed to help, the heavy animal would be hard to manipulate and need to be rolled over and flipped a few times before the hide could be salvaged. Troog stared at the pair of long, gracefully curved horns. There has to be something, some kind of weapon that could be made with them, he thought as he admired the handsome animal.
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Both ends of the lodge had the odd looking triangles jutting up into the air. It was a strange, but appealing sight of growing progress.
Placing them had been rather easy, using long poles tied to the center of the structural components they were pushed up into place from below. Tying them together had proved to be much more difficult. Tressie had been recruited to tie the tall triangles together, she was one of the tallest women—and the lightest by far for her height.
She stood on Talut and Danug's shoulders, each man holding on tight to her legs to support her. Even on top of the two tall men, she could barely reach high enough to tie the ends together. Doing all this by herself was hard, especially since she was constantly wavering while trying to keep her balance on top of the two men.
When she finished, Danug and Talut tied off the bases of the triangles to the main support poles and the cross members. Everything stiffened up nicely.
The next structural triangles were tied together on the inside of the lodge. The components were all cut to size and had been test fitted outside the lodge, but when assembled was much too wide to fit through the narrow doorway.
Talut and Danug hefted the first triangle of tied together cane up and over the support poles from inside the lodge. It fit loosely, just within the width of the tall poles, and allowed for a lot of movement as they pointed the narrow end of the roof brace toward the center of the lodge. It stretched well over half way across the width of the paved floor.
Barzec and Frebec put the finishing touches on the next triangle, wrapping the cane strips tightly and tying them off. As soon as they were done, Talut and Danug lifted it up and into place, next to the first.
A loop of vine was tied onto the ends of both pieces at the narrow ends, and two long cane poles were slipped through the loops and slid between the two triangles. This tied the tops of the two triangles together loosely. The outer ends of these poles were tied to thin push poles, and two more push poles were secured to the tops of the triangles.
When they used the push poles to lift the two triangles up into the air together, the structural pieces stayed even with each other with the aid of the slip poles. Once high enough, the slip poles were pulled outward and overlapped the two tall frameworks on the ends of the lodge. The slip poles held, and the structure stayed in place, though it sagged slightly in the center from the slack allowed by the slide poles.
Tressie was helped back up onto Talut and Danug, and they held her up while she tied the slip poles into place and added another, heavier pole when these were finished. She cut the push poles loose, and added another layer of strapping around the slip poles. By the time she got back down, half of the roof structure was secured.
Frebec and Barzec paused to watch the structure above taking shape. With satisfied grins, they picked up the next precut set of poles and went back to work to assemble the next piece.
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Talut held the large diameter log up, bracing it crosswise against his thighs as Danug and Draag crammed the ends of it into the gap between the upright supports on each side. The log had been split, with over two thirds of its original girth still remaining and the flat side pointed up.
With a grunt of effort, Draag seated his end, ramming it home between the upright posts. Ranec reached down and gave Danug a helping hand to get his end seated into the narrow space between the uprights. With the added muscle of the shove, the log was pressed into the tight space with a soft thud.
Talut took a deep breath and stepped back, glad to have the heavy weight of the log off his scraped up thighs. The log fit tightly into the narrow gap, and the flat side stayed true, pointing up evenly.
The odd looking structure was a series of steps made completely of cut and sized logs, most of them heavy logs. The uprights were tied together and cross braced, with solid upright supports holding them firmly in place between the main vertical poles. Each step up was almost knee high to Draag, and three logs deep from front to rear. This would make it a bit of a slow go for most of the men once the steps were completed because of the steepness. When finished, there would be a total of five step levels from the lower terrace to the upper. The bottom three steps were now all in place, three logs deep each.
The bottom of the uprights had thick poles tied to the bases from left to right, holding the span of width consistent. The narrow ledge was solid rock, there was no way to secure the structure by sinking the uprights, so it had to be free standing. Because of this, the structure had to be completely self sufficient and stand securely on its own. This presented the builders with a real challenge, and it was easier to overbuild than not.
After several long discussions about the different types and properties of the available trees for harvest, Draag had professed his preferences which were agreed to by unanimous consent. They used the hard, dark wood that had been so problematic to cut and shape for the upright portion of the structure, and the softer, more pliable wood for the steps themselves. The softer wood gave a better, more secure footing, especially when wet. These logs proved to be much easier to split as well, as they found out the hard way, breaking their best splitter in the first, and only, failed attempt to split the dark colored hardwood.
Branag and his crew of wood cutters had finally figured out how to cut down and harvest the hardwood trees, and the new axe heads from Wymez and his flint workers didn't hurt. It seemed that the smaller, thinner hand held axes worked best, taking shorter, less powerful stokes. Patience proved to be the order of the day for the woodcutters, for the extra time it took to procure these valuable materials. The crew was set up on the upper terrace, chipping away, sizing the next pieces, with several large logs stacked up against the side of the cliff.
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Brug studied the new bow in the waning sunlight, it was a finely shaped and detailed weapon. It was just a little longer than Brug was tall. Mortan sat next to him and ran his fingers down the length of the flattened, curved stick. This one was made of the dark hardwood, and was a little darker in color than the last one had been. It was smooth to the touch and had an intricate, tight grain pattern that ran the length of it. The shape of this one had a long curve to it, and Brug couldn't decide if this was good or not, only time would tell.
It had started off straight, but bowed gradually as the wood was shaped and smoothed. Brenan had expressed his thoughts that the shape might well help more than hinder the performance and function of the bow, and Brug thought it worth a try. He did have a lot of hours invested in this one, and hoped that Brenan was right.
Druwez held out the length of thin vine with two loops tied at the ends. He had two more vines in his lap of varying thicknesses. A full quiver of small spear projectiles lay on the ground between him and Mortan.
Troog sat next to Salen watching, sipping a steaming cup of tea. He had not been this content in a long time, hunting every day with these young men had been a real pleasure. Never one to have an inner need to lead or take the initiative, Troog was happy to just be a hunter and provider, and with these hunters it was a very satisfying experience. There were no egos to stroke or pacify with this group, and Brug led them with staunch determination. The measure of success they enjoyed was astounding, and fun.
Though a bit awkward at first, the three young men worked together to bend the bow and get the vine attached to the notches at the ends. They stung it with the direction of the curve, and the vine held as tension was let off slowly. Brug thumped the vine, testing the strength, he felt the vibrations resonate all through the carved stick in gentle, rippling waves.
The five of them walked out to the eastern edge of the camp, through the shade of the huge trees to the small grass and brushy clearing beyond. Several people saw them and tagged along at a discreet distance, Frebec and Crisavec among them at the front.
Brug took a few practice pulls on the string, it didn't offer as much resistance as the first one had, but it held together and didn't break. He thought that this was potentially a good sign.
Mortan fished through the scabbard and offered him one of the small, shorter spears, and he took it and carefully fit the notch at the back of it over the vine, roughly at the center. Brug set the shaft of the arrow over the top of his knuckles where he held the bow in his fist, and slowly drew it back, the tension of the bow increasing as he did. He pointed it at a bush and pulled it back until the back of the arrow was at his shoulder and let go of the vine.
The arrow made an odd, twanging sound as it flew forward a couple of dozen steps and fell to the ground. Brug's eyes were wide, as were all those watching. It worked. Brug felt a stinging sensation on his left hand, and looked down to see a thin cut and a fat drop of blood on his knuckle where the arrow had rested. That's odd, he thought.
Mortan ran over and retrieved the arrow, looking it over. The back of it at the notch was split well up the shaft and one of the two feathers was missing. He frowned as he walked back over to Brug, already thinking of how to fix this new problem.
Troog noticed the small cut on Brug's hand, and stepped up to examine it. With a sign, he asked Brug to set up to shoot another arrow as Mortan returned. Brug held his hand out for the arrow, but Mortan fished a different one from the scabbard, this one was a little longer and the shaft a bit thicker.
Brug took it and notched it into the vine, then got everything in position to draw the vine back again. Troog made another sign, for Brug to go slow and he watched in detail how the set up was positioned. With how the arrow rested on Brug's hand, the stiff feathers would probably cut him again, he thought as observed the set up. With another sign, he asked Brug to let off the tension.
Mortan and Salen studied the split arrow. The vine had pushed through the notch at the back of it and one of the feathers tied to the shaft was gone. The other feather dangled with only the front side of it still attached. Salen squeezed the end of the small spear shaft back together, it still fit tightly under pressure.
"We can tie this back up with sinew, that will probably hold it together better." He said softly, thinking aloud.
"That should work." Mortan answered, seeing it in his mind.
Troog pulled a small piece of leather from a pouch on his belt, and placed it over Brug's hand, tucking the ends of the rough square between his knuckles. Brug scrunched his eyebrows for a moment in confusion, then gradually realized its purpose and nodded his head. Troog stepped back, and Brug pulled tension on the bow again.
All whispered conversation stopped in silent anticipation as they watched with rapt attention. Brug pulled the butt of the arrow back to his chest again, and sighted back on the fat bush. The twang of the release broke the quiet as the thin projectile flew away in a gradual arc, falling well short and to the left of the bush. This time the arrow stuck into the ground, the shaft wobbling as the point buried itself into the soft ground.
A soft rush of whispers began behind him, and Brug felt a rush of satisfaction coursing through him. Mortan patted him on the shoulder and grinned as he rushed out to retrieve the now still arrow. When he reached down to pull it out of the ground, he saw that the rear of the small spear was split just like the first one had been.
Troog had watched the flight of the arrow with great interest, he had mixed feelings about this whole idea. Any weapon was worth a serious look, Troog knew that for sure. But with the soft, weak looking flight of the small spear, he also knew that a lot of work would have to go into it before it could kill even a small animal. Brug will work it out if it can be developed at all, he thought with pride, knowing the unflappable nature of the young hunter. Troog saw the determination in Brug's strongly featured face, he was easily the most emotional man of the Clan that Troog had ever seen.
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Vincavec held onto the pole, half the width of his forearm, up at chest level while Frebec and Tulie tied each end of it to the upright framework. It was a small, square structure that was a little too wide to fit through the doorway of the lodge.
Frebec, with Crisavec's help, began laying more of the short poles diagonally across the upper cross members, eventually filling in the hole completely. Vincavec started threading a long, flexible vine over and under each pole, wrapping it around the horizontal supports to hold the pieces in place. Tulie did the same on the opposite side. In a little while, they had all the poles tied down.
"Cris, will you try it out first?" Vincavec asked his helpful boy, using the shortened version of his name as a term of endearment.
Crisavec smiled, a little nervously at first, then nodded. Tulie and Vincavec got on each side of the growing boy, while Vincavec held onto the structure to steady it. They grasped Crisavec by the thighs and lifted him up, and Crisavec leaned forward and pulled himself up onto the platform. The structure wobbled a little at first, but held his weight easily once he crawled into the center. Gingerly, Vincavec let go his grip. The platform held.
"Try standing up, but be careful." Vincavec said.
Crisavec used the tall, exposed upright to help keep his balance, and stood up slowly. His weight help to steady the structure, and it was actually pretty solid feeling for the most part. Tentatively, he bounced a few times to test the overall strength. It flexed a little under the shifting weight, but held together well.
"Can you reach the top of the roof?" Tulie asked.
Crisavec reached up with one hand, the poles of the roof were in easy reach, and he grabbed it at the peak and let go his other hand. He grinned down at them, everything was working out well.
"I can reach it all, this will work." Crisavec looked over the roofing triangles, and walked his hands down from the peak, he could easily reach over halfway down the length of the roof from where he was.
"Help me down?" He asked softly.
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With the aid of the raised platform, the roof mats were cut to fit and tied onto the structural triangles throughout the afternoon. The platform was proved stout enough to even hold two people at once, with two more holding onto the uprights from the ground for added support. The lower sections were accessible by putting Jaycie and Roxie on top of Tathan and Thorec's shoulders.
The roof mats were similar to the wall mats, but lighter being made from smaller cane poles. The weave was till tight, but the thinner walls of the smaller diameter cane cut the overall weight considerably. The pieces were cut to fit and tied together with each section overlapping the one next to it, and tied repeatedly to the structural poles. The mats were cut short to leave a hole at the peak of each triangle at the ends of the lodge for smoke to escape.
The bare poles of the triangles poked up and looked a little naked because of the surrounding matting, but Vincavec and Wymez were already brainstorming on a cover of some kind to divert rainwater. The bare structure would give them a great place to secure some kind of cover that would still allow smoke to escape, all they had to do was figure it all out.
The structure was filling out nicely, and the speed of it all was astounding. The only things left to figure out were the smoke hole covers and the entry door. It helped to have as many helping hands as were available, and the work ethic of these industrious people was amazing. A few more days and the exterior of the lodge would be complete.
Clouds rolled in as the evening meal was served. The soft rain began shortly thereafter.
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It was a cool, wet morning. The freshly dried and repaired tents were already smelling musty and beginning to sag on the tent poles. The drainage ditches and barriers all worked well enough this time around, though a few needed patching or clearing in a few places.
The roof mats on the lodge proved to be almost, but not quite waterproof. Small rivulets of rainwater seeped through in many places, but had a tendency to run on down the length of the slanted roof. At the cross members of the structure, the water gathered and fell dripping onto the rock floor. The smoke holes allowed the rain to fall in unobstructed, and the entire stone floors were soon wet and slick.
The rain was soft but steady, falling throughout the entire morning. It began tapering off some around midday, and by late afternoon finally broke up into sporadic showers. As the sun broke through, the air got thick and heavy. And hot.
Not a lot was accomplished this day on the construction of the lodge or on the steps on the side of the cliff, but they did get a couple of nice surprises.
Brug and his hunters returned with nine fat guineas and two hares, and the roof matting of the lodge tightened up.
The hunters used the sounds of falling rain and the softness of their footfalls to trail and take over half the flock of guineas with ease. The camouflage clothing rendered them almost invisible, and with the aid of the distorted sounds it was an overly easy hunt.
The waterlogged strips of cane swelled a little bit and slowed the leaks in most places, and stopped them all together in others. Well before dark, the succulent smells of roasting guinea tantalized the entire camp.
With the relaxed break from the last several busy days, the mood of the camp was light and all were well rested. The evening meal was served early and the air cooled considerably as the sun waned slowly. The muggy heat of the day behind them, it was a real pleasure to sit down to the smells that had teased them all afternoon.
There was more than enough to eat, as usual of late, though between Talut and Danug a sizable dent was put in the thick stew. A new, tangy auburn colored root Inca had discovered and tested over the last several days gave the stew a slightly different, but very pleasant flavor and aroma. From the way Talut and Danug kept going back for more, Inca worried that it might have some kind of addictive properties. If it did, she considered, the two men showed no adverse signs from it.
The men were already discussing plans for the next lodge over after dinner tea, and the women got involved as well to put in their thoughts and ideas. The talks covered a variety of aspects of the proposed structures, from the size most appropriate to the number of homes needed.
The very idea of family sized huts was a new concept to most of them, and Branag and Deegie got a lot of questions concerning the differences to be considered. Other members of the Aurochs Camp were drawn in as well, each giving their own reasoning as to the potential benefits and detriments of small lodges. Though they never got the chance to complete and actually convert the Aurochs Camp to this new idea of separate family homes, they had talked it all through and were well into the process of building their camp that way.
With the sheer number of people this large, mixed group of people encompassed, a single lodge wasn't practical anymore. It would probably have been impossible to build a single lodge big enough to house them all anyway.
Mog-ur sat quietly with little Ooga in his lap, considering this radical new way of living. The idea was fascinating, but ran so opposed to every teaching and tradition of the Clan that it was hard for him to grasp. It was even harder for him to accept. So very many things to consider, he thought as Ooga stroked his beard gently, such an odd way to live. Mog-ur reached up to scratch an itchy spot under his chin where sweat tended to gather, he was the only man in the entire camp left with a beard.
As the sun began to set, the biggest, brightest rainbow any of them had ever seen stretched all the way across the entire length of the sky. The sight was awe inspiring.
**********
Four men and Jaycie sat in the shade of the end tree of the wide arc at the east end of camp. They sat spread out on a narrow extension of paving stones that led to the eastern perimeter guard outpost set up just past the tree. It was a warm morning already, and extremely humid as the wet grounds gave up moisture in the building heat of the day. Low lying, thin clouds of mist hung just above the ground. The ground oven nearby allowed tantalizing aromas of slow cooking suidae to escape on the soft, erratic breezes.
Jaycie worked on a lightweight mat of thin stripped cane, two finger widths wide, weaving it tightly together in a long rectangle. Drops of sweat ran down her face from her hairline, and every time she reached up to wipe one away from her eyes, she glanced over at Wymez with sparkling eyes. Jaycie couldn't help but to wonder about the 'family group' arrangements discussed the night before, and if she and her two young ones would end up in a small hut with Wymez. Her heart beat a little faster at the thought, and she hoped Wymez felt the same way.
It would be a long time before any of these kinds of decisions would be necessary. A lot of huts had to be built and there was no telling how long this would take. Jaycie was pleased, though, she and Wymez had sort of set up a mini hearth together in the smaller of the two traveling tents. Her life seemed to get a little better every day, and Tonie and Tramen took to Wymez and his loving nature almost as if he had always been the man of their hearth. Though she would never forget Gralon, time gradually took the edge off the hurt of losing him.
Wymez held the thin cane poles tightly where they intersected while Brenan wrapped it with a thin strip of soaked cane. Over and under, he overlapped the strip into 'X' shapes six layers thick with each layer circling one of the two poles. When he finished the last wrap, Brenan used his knife to create a gap to pull the strip under two tight wraps of cane strip. He succeeded eventually and pulled it tight before cutting off the small piece of excess. It was the last corner, the other three having already been completed.
A small pile of precut cane poles lay on the paving stones nearby. More strips of the thinner cane used for the structural wrapping soaked in a wide pelvic bone platter next to it. An odd looking corner piece of three cane poles tied together, two at a right angle with the third spanning the ends to create a triangle was propped up against the platter.
Rymar had a thin, very sharp flint knife in his hand and he slowly and carefully carved on the end of a small section of pole. Thin ribbons of off fall curled over the knife blade as he slowly shaped the end into a semi-circle with small cuts, more curled pieces lay in his lap. He finished the last cut and studied it, pulling a few odd strands of cane away from the inside of the pole.
Satisfied, Rymar picked up the odd triangle piece and test fit the piece he had carved on into the corner. The radius ends slipped over the poles, fitting better on one side than the other. Rymar pulled it off the small frame, and went back to work, slicing a little deeper into one end, a little bit at a time.
Brenan set the corner of the door frame back down on the paving stones, the rectangular shaped poles wobbling and flexing. He looked over to Rymar, and waited patiently until he stopped and pulled the knife away from the end of the short pole. Brenan rubbed his sore thigh without thinking about it, the dull ache from sitting on the ground throbbed almost continually.
"Ready for the corner braces." Brenan said.
Rymar looked up from the carved end, and reached over to another, similar pole at the edge of the pile. He tossed it to Brenan with a grin.
Brenan handed it to Wymez, and reached into the bone platter to pullout a dripping strand of stripped cane. Brenan ran the long, curly strip between his fingers to push off the excess water.
Wymez lifted the frame up and slid it over his lap, then fitted the corned brace into place, pulling and tugging it into the correct position. It was a tight fit. He used a small piece of vine to measure the distance from the ends of the brace back to the corner, and adjusted the brace accordingly.
Brenan waited until Wymez was happy with the fit, then started wrapping one end of the corner brace with the wet strip. It was a bit clumsy at first, having to hold the end of it in place with his thumb until the wrapping held it secure. Over, under, and around he went, changing the direction of the wrap on each repetition. It was a slow, tedious process.
Wymez held the corner brace securely as Brenan worked. He looked up and caught Jaycie staring at him and smiled at her with love in his eyes.
**********
Vincavec and Tulie stepped off the distance from the corner of the nearly complete main lodge, counting their steps while walking to the west in the shade of the canopy of trees. At eight steps, they stopped and Vincavec stood still and looked back at the lodge. Tulie walked backwards a few steps, then stopped to judge the distance.
"Let's mark this with some stones, it looks about right." She said, her brow scrunched up in thought.
Vincavec stood still while she set a grey stone at his feet, then together they paced off the corners of the possible future hut about ten steps apart, setting marker stones as they went.
When the four corners were all in place, they stepped off a similar distance further to the west and started all over again.
**********
Branag and Ludeg had a log that had been cut to length each over their shoulders. A little bigger around than Branag's thigh, and almost as long as he was tall, they were cut from the heavy dark hardwood. The top step was solid enough feeling, but both men stepped gingerly as they made their way to the far edge. The steps were complete, but as solid as they were, the newness of the structure along with the steep drop off over the edge of the cliff made them nervous.
Talut and Draag stood on the center of the five steps, waiting. When Branag stopped, he knelt down and tilted the log down as he pulled it off his shoulder. Talut reached out and grabbed the end of the log, as Branag fed it down to him, stepping back slowly. Draag reached up as high as he could and grabbed the other end of it as Branag handed it off, and he followed Talut to the back edge of the step. They set it down, propped up next to one of the riser extensions that protruded up and turned to get the log from Ludeg.
Danug and Ranec waited at the bottom of the nearly complete structure of steps. When Talut and Ludeg turned to get the second log pulled the first one down to the flat of the terrace, they pulled it down together. They hefted the log between them and walked on down the narrow, slanted terrace to the next drop off. There were several logs already piled up at the edge, and they added this one to the pile.
Jozen held the thick wood wedge in his hand and used the back, flat section of the small axe to drive it into the top of the short log with short strokes. Stolie held the log steady , looking away from the wedge as Jozen hit it. She had already been hit with broken flakes of flint a few times, and the last one had hit her in the forehead. She didn't want to get hit in the face again if the axe splintered again.
The log groaned as it began to split with a series of pops and creaking sounds. Jozen stopped, and grabbed another wedge as Stolie laid the log down on its side. Jozen crammed the next wedge half a hands width away from the end of the log where the split stopped. He tapped it into the small gap with the axe, a little at a time while Stolie held it still. More cracking sounds, and the split opened up a little wider.
**********
Brug and Mortan worked on the small spear between them. Mortan wrapped wet sinew around the split rear just in front of the deepest portion of the cut while Brug held the thin projectile in his strong hands.
Troog and Druwez prepared wing and tail feathers kept from the guineas. It was tedious to strip the feathers off one side while not crimping the hollow shaft of the stem of the feather. More than a few unusable, damaged feathers littered the ground between them, but a growing pile of successful attempts proved that they were getting better at this difficult task.
Druwez dropped a feather onto the pile, then picked up a wing and looked for the next one. He picked one in the lower section, and grasped it between his thumb and forefinger and twisted gently. It broke loose and came out cleanly, and Druwez dropped the wing back into his lap while he studied the feather. He grinned, it was perfectly shaped.
The hunters had been successful early this morning, killing a pair of suidae they found at the creek just past the pond. The pigs were rooting around in the mud at the edge of the cane patch deeply involved in some kind of mating ritual, and had been preoccupied and easy to sneak up on. Druwez had gotten in the first shot, and Troog and Mortan hit the second suidae at almost the same time.
It had almost been too easy, but since the hunters had work they all wanted to get to on the new weapon development, it was just as well. There was no real shortage of food stuffs at the camp, but Brug still wanted to hunt every day. He took the responsibility of feeding the camp very seriously, as did all of the hunters, and their results showed in kind.
The gently curved bow lay on the ground next to Brug, and as he held the arrow still while Mortan wrapped it, he kept glancing down at the piece of smooth wood. Something odd kept coming into his mind, the beginnings of an idea of some kind, though Brug couldn't quite put his finger on it. There was something else to do, or maybe to do differently, he thought as Mortan pulled the sinew tight and the arrow pulled against him. What is it, Brug wondered as he pulled his gaze off the bow and paid attention again to the task at hand.
**********
Tulie studied the layout from a vantage point near the central fire pit. The stones were easy enough to see from here, and she tried to picture huts in their place. Vincavec stood beside her doing much the same thing. They had laid out corner stones for two huts on each side of the lodge. The shade of the canopy of large trees covered most of the main lodge, as well as the marker stones.
"Do they look too close together?" She asked.
"It's hard to tell, I don't think so." Vincavec answered as Matera walked over with Lumie at her breast. She leaned over and kissed his cheek, and Vincavec gently stroked Lumie's soft hair as he smiled at them both.
"What do you think, Matera, do the marker stones look too close to the main lodge?" Tulie asked, pointing out the light colored stones.
Matera scanned the area, having never lived in a communal set up like this, it was a hard concept to imagine. The main lodge was smaller than she was used to seeing, but the smaller huts the marker stones represented threw off her reasoning. This was a whole new concept to her, and she still had a hard time picturing it all in her mind. The structures would be rather close together this way, she considered, but there would have to be several of them after all. Matera thought about all this before answering.
"I don't think so." She finally replied. "How many homes will we need to build?"
Vincavec chuckled, asking himself the same thing-again. He and Tulie had sat down to try and figure out the same thing earlier this morning. Ten huts plus the main lodge had been the original consensus, the thought of this number was staggering. It was all still conjecture, of course, but that was what they had come up with so far.
Tulie grinned as she answered Matera's query. "We think it will take ten homes to house us all comfortably."
"Wow." Matera uttered softly, the magnitude of the project becoming a realization for the first time in her mind. What an undertaking, she thought.
Nezzie and Marsie came out of the new lodge as Mamie and Deegie walked past them and went in carrying bulging skins of supplies. Inside the lodge, piles of supplies were being stacked up around the inside walls. Bed platforms were being built, and a pile of stones rested in between the two fire pits. The progress of the lodge was slow, but steady, with Latie and the Mog-ur inside laying out the floor plan and the locations for the room dividers.
Since this was the main lodge, it had been decided that Latie and Brenan would occupy one side of it, while the Mog-ur, Rug and Etra would live in the other. This was to be the communal gathering place, and a lot of things had to be considered in how it was all divided and utilized. There were a lot of things left to be decided, but the work continued on anyway.
**********
Frebec glanced at the soft noise from behind the short row of brush. He pulled his spear thrower up and took a few tentative steps toward the sound. The sound stopped, and so did Frebec. He glanced back behind him, the women were all busy, digging sticks poking holes and unearthing more of the amber colored roots from the patch in the clearing. Crisavec stood guard on the other side of them, gripping his spear while using the butt of it as a walking stick as he paced slowly and watched to the north.
More rustles behind the bushes, and Frebec turned back to face the sound again. He spotted a brief movement through a small gap and lowered his body to get a better look. More soft sounds, but nothing to see, he took another two short steps forward. Movement again from the same place as before, and as quick as Frebec saw it, it stopped.
Frebec paused to glance around the area past the group of bushes, his swept his eyes slowly over the area. There, he thought as he froze to study what could have been more movement. A short just of breeze blew through, and there was suddenly movement everywhere until it subsided. Just as the leaves began to still, he saw it.
A reddish colored, furry tail stuck up between some greenery, it twitched twice and was gone as fast as it had appeared. A rustling in the leaves drew his attention back to where he had seen something before, a little louder this time. Frebec concentrated on the line of brush, and suddenly the entire area exploded in movement and sound.
Inca and her gatherers all froze, then backed away from the sounds in a rush of panic, and Crisavec turned on his heel and quickly sprinted toward Frebec who had his spear thrower high and ready.
A large red river hog broke from the cover of the brush and ambled out into the edge of the clearing. At the same time, dholes came out of the brush in a wide, sweeping arc. There were a lot of them, and they moved quickly and efficiently encroaching fast.
The hog spun around as it faced off with Frebec, looking for a way out. The dholes moved in, yipping and snarling as they closed the distance and the semi-circle closed in around the hog, and the humans.
Frebec backed off slowly, speaking in a stern, but strangely calm sounding voice as he did. "You women back off, go back the way we came. Cris, go with them and stay close enough to protect them."
The hog snorted, pawing the dusty ground with his ears sticking straight up. The long tufts of lighter colored hair at the tips of his ears gave his face a formidable, threatening appearance.
Silvie herded the women back toward the short trees slowly, Inca bringing up the rear walking backwards to keep her eye on Frebec and the hog, and the snarling dholes.
Crisavec disregarded Frebec's commands, and moved closer to the man of his hearth. He pulled an extra spear from the scabbard and held one in each hand as he moved. Crisavec's adrenalin rush nullified his fear, and a strange excitement overwhelmed him as he moved, his eyes wide, taking in everything.
Dholes encroached quickly into the clearing from each side, flanking the hog as it spun around. The hog faced them and snorted, then spun again, kicking up dust as he did. Two more dholes burst through the brush directly in front of Frebec, snarling and dancing from side to side.
Frebec backed up a few more steps, and glanced behind him quickly. He saw Inca backing away from the far edge of the small clearing, and was surprised to see Crisavec closing in from his left.
"Cris, get back with the women, you have to protect them!"
Crisavec ignored Frebec, watching him turn back to face the pack of dholes and the trapped hog.
Frebec tried make a quick decision, but the hog made it for him. He turned and in a blur of movement came right at Frebec, snorting and grunting loudly in an effort to scare him out of his way. Frebec took aim and threw the spear, it glanced off the shoulder of the hog, taking a small piece of flesh with it as the hog grunted and darted to Frebec's left as it kept going.
The dholes took off, closing in fast from all directions out in front of him. As Frebec struggled to slap another spear into the spear thrower, he had a sudden thought that he was done for.
The hog squealed in agony and surprise when Crisavec's spear took him in the side, smashing through his ribs and knocking him off his feet. The hog tumbled, legs still churning as the dholes swamped him. Crisavec ran as fast as he could to Frebec, and four of the dholes came right at the two of them.
The spear flew, taking a dhole in the chest. Frebec reached back to grab another spear as Crisavec jumped in front of him, brandishing his long throwing spear and setting his feet. The dhole screamed out as it bit at the thin shaft of the spear, and his companions ran on past.
Crisavec stabbed at the nearest encroaching dhole, nicking his chest just hard enough to draw blood. The dhole spun around and Crisavec jabbed at the next closest one. Frebec pulled his lone throwing spear from over his shoulder, and planted his feet firmly as he took up a strong position next to Crisavec.
The two men held off the rushing dholes, barely at first, then gaining the advantage in short order. The carnage of the surrounding dholes as they pounced on the wounded hog was loud and ferocious.
Frebec jabbed at a dhole, the spear falling just short, and the two of them began to back off slowly. One step at a time. The dholes quit lunging at them, instead they held their ground, snarling and yapping.
It took a long, long time to get to the relative safety of the trees. The snarling dholes stopping short at the far edge of the clearing.
Frebec and Crisavec finally caught up with the women near the creek, and after a brief rest, headed back to camp.
**********
"...all right, I want more guards to go out with you gatherers. We don't even know all the dangers that may lurk out there." Talut said between bites of suidae that was so tender it fell off his knife more often than it held together. He set the knife on the edge of the platter and picked up a thin sliver of meat and picked it up with his fingers.
"Vincavec, who can you spare?"
Vincavec scrunched his brow in thought as he looked over the mass of people all sitting around eating. The scent of succulent foods permeated the entire camp. He finished chewing the bite in his mouth and swallowed the tasty meat with relish before answering.
"Good question, take whoever you need, we'll make do." Vincavec and Tulie were still hip deep into the process of trying to figure out how to go about the massive task of building all the individual huts necessary to house this huge camp anyway.
Tulie sat next to Vincavec with Barzec on the central most seating log. She had been as disturbed as the rest of the camp at the close call Frebec and the gatherers had encountered while out this afternoon. More had to be done to protect them, this strange land posed no lack of dangers. Tulie was about to speak when Regan piped in and beat her to it.
"I'll go with them." Regan said with a smile, she sat with her mate Thorec on the log across from Tulie. Thorec idly caressed her lower belly, slightly dissented with the early bulge of pregnancy. Regan had always been an avid hunter, and her skills were respected as much as any of the men.
Thorec was relieved, he worried about Regan working so hard on the lodges as she had been. She had no qualms about lifting and toting heavy stuff, and Thorec wished she would take it a little easier on herself being newly pregnant and all. He would rather her be on guard duty instead of the hard work she had been doing of late. Thorec had no doubts at all about her abilities wielding a spear.
Tulie smiled, this was a good fit, and she looked over to Martag sitting with Marsie down the log from Regan. Though a little older than most of the builders, he had shown his worth many times over during the construction of the main lodge. Tulie worried a little about him pressing too hard though, he wasn't quite as fit as most of the younger men.
"Martag, would you be willing to help Frebec too?" Tulie was careful with her tone of voice, the last thing she wanted to do would be to sound condescending to him. "I would feel better about their safety if a man of your abilities were with them."
Martag nodded his head in agreement, the hard work on the main lodge had taken its toll on him, though he never would have admitted it. He was happy to be given this job, and knew it was as important as any other task that needed attending. Marsie was pleased as well, she knew the hardship her mate had endured and had seen the toll it took on him physically.
"Good, that should be enough." Talut said through a mouthful of thinly sliced, tender tubers.
"We are going to need a fresh supply of cane, and main support posts too." Vincavec said after a brief pause.
Branag looked up from his platter. His people had been cutting supplies for the steps down the cliff, but they almost had everything that Draag asked for done. Another day at the most and they would be all caught up.
"How much do you need?" He asked, stabbing a piece of meat at the edge of the platter and watching it fall to pieces under the sharp blade.
Vincavec chuckled, the bright tattoos around the outside edges of his eyes accenting the mischievous sparkle in his bright blue eyes. "Enough for ten small huts."
Branag's eyes opened wide. It got quiet around the gather, then small spattering of laughter began. Before too long it grew into a low roar. Branag laughed as loud and as hard as the rest of them.
**********
Branag pulled the axe back away from the log as it separated and became two shorter logs. He wiped the back of his wrist across his brow, smearing his scarred forehead with sweat and dirt.
Ludeg pulled the piece of vine cordage off the ground and pulled it along the side of the left log. The length of the log matched the length of the cord, but when he stretched it out along side the log on the right, the log was longer by two full hand widths. Ludeg made a small cut in the bark with his knife at the end of the cord, then tossed the cord back on the ground behind him. He picked up the correctly sized log and laid it on a pile of three others just like it.
Next to this pile, eight short logs with one split and flattened side made a small pyramid. A stack of thinner, but slightly longer poles in three different lengths rested beside these.
Branag grinned and held the axe out to Ludeg's waiting hand and stepped back a few steps. Ludeg knelt down and got comfortable then started chopping with careful, measured strokes. Bark flew off the log as he worked his way around the log, keeping the cut in a straight line.
Jozen and Stolie walked up to the edge of the drop off with a long log under each arm. They walked slowly, careful to keep the weight and mass of the long pieces of hardwood from throwing their balance off as they approached the edge. They dropped them to the ground one at a time, onto a small pile of five other logs of similar size.
The two of them picked up one of the heavy logs and walked it to the edge of the cliff as Branag walked over directly under them. Taking their time, Jozen and Stolie lowered the end of the log down over the edge a little bit at a time and Branag reached up to steady it as the weight shifted downward. Together, they lowered it until it touched the hard rock surface of the terrace. Branag walked down the length of the log, holding it firmly in his strong hands, lowering it step by step until it lay stretched out on the terrace behind where Ludeg worked.
Jozen and Stolie grabbed the next log as Branag walked back over to receive it.
Down below them, off to the south, work on the second set of steps continued. Talut and Danug wrestled with a long, thick log, holding it steady as straight up and down as they could while Ranec positioned the bottom of it into place. When they got it situated correctly to their satisfaction, they held it firmly in place. Draag knelt down and started wrapping a length of thick, pliable vine dripping with water around the bottom to the post securing it to the almost square frame laying on the rock.
It took a while for Draag to get it all wrapped up and tied off. As soon as he finished it off at ground level, he sat up and lifted a cross brace up with Ranec's help. Together, they positioned it across between the two uprights, and fit it into the small notches cut into the poles for locators. Ranec stood up straight, and pressed the cross brace firmly while Draag pulled another vine from the hanging skin full of water and began to tie off the end that Talut and Danug held.
The work continued on this set of steps in the bright, hot sun.
**********
"How about something like this?" Jaycie asked, holding up a small circle of cane strips made by weaving them all together. It was big enough to fill her palm as she held it out for the other men to see. The three of them all stopped tying the cane mat to the frame of the long rectangle to see what she had.
"That's clever." Wymez began with a smile. "But what is it supposed to do?"
Rymar and Brenan both grinned at the interplay between the two. Jaycie smiled back at the man of her heart, and sat down in front of the door on the ground.
"If we make one of these rings, looping it between the support post and the door frame, the door should be able to swing out around the post. It will also hold the door off the ground if we do it right." She explained, wrinkling her brow as she spoke.
"One of those will hold up the whole door?" Wymez asked, biting back a knowing grin.
Jaycie gave him a stern look, but her eyes twinkled with love as she went on. "No, but three or four of them should."
"Oh." Wymez said, grinning broadly now. "I see."
Jaycie reached over and whacked Wymez on the shoulder in mock exasperation. Wymez laughed aloud, reaching up to snag her wrist and pulled her over. Jaycie lost her balance and sprawled into his lap where Wymez wrapped her in his arms and started kissing her all over her face softly.
Brenan reached over and picked up the small woven ring of split cane where it had fallen onto the door mat. He studied it for a moment, then closed his eyes trying to picture the idea in his mind. After a long pause, he opened his eyes and looked at Jaycie who was in the middle of being kissed playfully on her forehead.
"Jaycie, this is a great idea." Brenan's voice had the distinct edge of excitement in it. "This might well work."
Rymar thought it might too, and grinned at the older man and his much younger woman as they wrestled playfully. What an unusual technique, he thought as he saw it all in his creative mind, Jaycie is clever.
**********
Tulie and Vincavec worked facing each other, sharpened poles as big around as their forearms in their hands. They worked at boring holes in the ground where the corner posts had been, stopping often to dig out excess dirt and the inevitable stones they encountered along the way. It was hard, tedious work.
Crews worked on each side of the new lodge, they had decided to build the smaller huts two at a time. Holes were being dug at each of the corner post markers, as well as two more between them at equal distance. At what would eventually be the front side of each hut, the two central posts were closer together where the doorway would be.
**********
Inside the main lodge, work continued on the bed platforms. The platforms were a little different than they were used to making, by necessity.
There was already a lot of stone construction that had been completed. Stone having been already used to build the outside, calf high wall and the paving stones necessary to cover the floor and raise it above ground level. Because of all this, the bed platforms were constructed much lower than usual, barely above ankle high.
Bringing in all the required stone had already begun to sap the immediate supply, and a group of people were out scrounging the area for more. They brought it into camp from all directions and began a pile on each side of the main lodge.
Barzec found an ample supply of loose rock near the edge of the cliff to the southeast at a short, jagged drop off. There was a lot of usable stone here, but it was a good little walk from here back to the camp. A line of folks toting rock soon formed to bring it back.
**********
Brug sighted in on the target of cut, piled grass. He took a deep breath and let the arrow loose. The arrow wobbled as it left the bow with a soft twang, and fell a little short of the grass. Brug scowled at the results. So did Mortan beside him.
He pulled the small piece of thin, fitted leather tighter over his left hand and reached down to pull another arrow from the scabbard. Brug studied it for a moment, this arrow was considerably longer than the one he had just shot.
When he shot this arrow, it flew a little farther, but still fell well short of the target. Frustration was growing.
'There still something wrong, we missing something.' Mortan signed with a serious look on his face. The two of them had been at it for a while now. Alone at the far western edge of the camp in a small clearing, they kept at it.
Brug nodded, he was thinking much the same thing. No matter what they tried, there was not enough power to make the arrow fly fast or hard enough. He used the entire length of the string, and the tension was strong, but it wasn't enough. Not nearly enough.
'Let's gather up the arrows.' Brug signed, pulling the cleverly shaped half glove of thin leather that Troog had made for him off his hand and dropped it on top of the scabbard of arrows. His forearm was sore and bright red from the string of the bow slapping it every time he shot an arrow. Mortan had similar marks on his arm.
The boys gathered up the arrows and checked each one for damage. One had a chipped point where it had hit a rock that was promptly tossed away, but all the butt ends were intact though two had damaged feathers. The method of wrapping sinew around the back side of the notch where the arrow fit over the vine was working at least.
'Let's try a shorter vine.' Mortan signed as they tried to decide their next move.
Brug though about it for a moment, then nodded his agreement, and then he carefully de-strung the bow. He handed Mortan the vine so he could measure off a new one and sat down to think. The graceful curve of the bow got his attention for some reason, and Brug concentrated on it while Mortan worked on a new bowstring. Something else, what is it, Brug wondered, there is something we are still missing here.
A hare rustled through the grass from the edge of the brush to their left, the hare was in full flight as it crossed out in front of them leaping and running full bore. More rustling followed him as three dholes appeared in chase. Mortan and Brug both got to their feet, grabbing their spears.
More dholes came out of the brush, five-no six now. They pulled up when they saw the two boys, and watched them and the pursuit as well.
Two dholes veered left forcing the hare to his right sharply. In another leaping bound, the dhole on the right caught the hare by the back leg and both tumbled in a heap. The other two dholes got there and pounced at the same time, ripping the hare apart in a shower of blood.
When they looked up, one of the dholes spotted the boys. With a snarling yip, he bounded away toward the safety of the brush. The other two grabbed up the remains of the hare and followed. A few seconds later, they were all gone, almost as if they were never even there at all.
Brug watched them disappear, and waited for a moment longer to be sure they were really gone before sitting back down, Mortan followed suit.
Mortan went back to work on the new vine, tying a loop on one end and snipping off the excess. Brug set his spear down, and looked back at the curved bow on the ground.
Mortan finished up, measuring the new vine to the old one. It was the length of his thumb shorter. Satisfied, he handed it to Brug.
Brug nodded at Mortan with a subtle gesture that roughly meant 'good job' and picked up the bow. The loop was tight as he slipped it over one end, and he had to press it hard to seat it into the groove with his thumb. When it fit in the groove, he stood up and picked up the bow and put one end against the ground with the body of the bow behind his thigh. Brug pulled against the curve and strained against the tension as he tried to seat the other loop. It wasn't working, the vine was way too short. Confused, Brug let the tension off slowly.
Mortan laughed, he pointed at the bow and signed. 'You tried to string backward.'
Brug looked at the bow, Mortan was right. He stopped, Mortan was right, but the bow felt stiffer this way-why was that, he wondered. He thought about it for a moment as Mortan continued to chuckle at him. An idea dawned on Brug, and he looked up to Mortan and signed quickly.
'Get the other string.'
Mortan stopped laughing and fetched the old piece of vine, and handed it over. He wondered what Brug wanted with it.
Brug pulled the new vine off the end of the bow, replacing it with the old one, but twisted the loop to the opposite direction in the carved notch. He set the bow and pulled tension on it against his thigh again, pulling it against the curve of the bow again, on purpose this time. Mortan watched with interest. The vine was too short, but not as much so as the new one had been. Brug tried one last time to set the loop, then released the tension.
'Make new vine,' He signed, then held up his hand with a space between his thumb and forefinger. 'This much longer.'
Mortan grinned, he didn't know what Brug was up to, but his curiosity was definitely peaked. It took a few tries before Mortan found a suitable piece of vine from the bag, but when he found the right one he went to work. With his excitement, it was the quickest bowstring he had made yet.
Brug struggled to get the vine strung over the heavy tension of the bow, pulling against the natural curve, but it just fit. When he made a couple of practice pulls, Brug could tell that the power would be dramatically increased. He worried that the bow would break, but he was anxious to try it out anyway.
Mortan held out an arrow, it was one of the medium length ones. Brug took it and slipped the open fingered glove over his left hand and pulled it tight. He knocked the arrow and turned to face the target.
Brug took a deep breath, and had to force his hands to quit shaking with excitement. He pulled the string back slowly, hoping the bow wouldn't break. When he had the string almost back to his face, he stopped and sighted in on the target. He let the arrow fly, and the sharp slap of the string hitting his forearm sent a fresh stab of pain up his arm. Brug didn't notice the pain for long as he watched the arrow fly so fast he could hardly follow it and it buried itself into the bottom of the pile of grass.
"Wow!" Mortan said softly, a huge grin spreading over his face.
Brug though the same thing, but inside, his grin was wider than Mortan's. Much wider. Brug's forearm throbbed painfully.
**********
Mog-ur walked slowly out toward his favorite place near the edge of the cliff. He used the spear that Rug and Draag had made for him sort of like a walking stick, prodding the ground with the pointed end up. It was a fine weapon, but one he had not yet mastered. Mog-ur had not taken the time to learn to throw the spear, but there was no real hurry, he had no immediate need to acquire this skill.
The late afternoon sun beat down on him, beads of sweat glistening off his hairy body as he walked. He wore only the short leggings that were so popular, and light weight foot covers. Off to his right, the entry trail that led down to the terraces that descended the cliff was cleanly defined and had a series of rock steps that made passage over the edge easy. A wide semi-circle of paving stones marked the area clearly. Without thinking, he turned toward it.
He made his way over to the slightly raised flat of paving stones and peered out over the edge of the cliff. The wildlife of the flats stretched out from a few hundred steps away from the bottom of the cliff all the way out over the expanse of the grasslands. It continued all the way to the thin strip of woods that bordered the second river on the far horizon. What a rich, abundant land this is, he thought as he observed the slow but constant movement of the mixed colored hoard of wildlife. Huge groups, small groups, trios, pairs, and singles, the variety of animals going about their lives was astounding.
Mog-ur looked straight down and off to his right, spotting Talut first, then seeing the other three busy at the second set of wooden steps far below. The sight made him a little dizzy, it was a long way down the sheer cliff side. The pile of raw materials near the wooden structure was small now, and the platform appeared from here to be near its completion.
Backing up slowly to regain his overall sense of balance, Mog-ur turned and walked along the edge of the cliff back to the southeast. He despised the sense of dizziness he often felt when looking down the sheer drop off, it was both unnerving and strangely spiritual. It almost felt as if someone, or more rather, something, wanted him to take a sudden step forward and fly through the air. Mog-ur tried again to dismiss this odd, frightful thought as he wandered back toward the three stones set up as a seat.
Rug had built him this special seat overlooking the flats on a small rise of solid stone, and it afforded a fabulous view of the flats below. A tall tree with a thin trunk and a wide canopy of leaf covered limbs shaded the seat of rock for most of the early afternoon, and completely through the latter duration of the day. Though it was uncomfortable at first, Mog-ur had gotten used to sitting on the raised platform and it was now his favorite place to be alone and to meditate.
A dark grey lizard with two bright red splotches on each side of his neck looked up at him from the center of the wide stone. He was big, his body stretched over three quarters of the width of his seat. This stone was set across two smaller stones that held it up off the ground almost as high as Mog-ur's knees. The lizard flared the skin on each side of his head and opened his mouth threateningly, then hissed. His long tail flicked back and forth, hanging off the stone, dangling in the air.
Mog-ur stopped to watch this odd looking creature, wondering if he really was as brave as he acted. He wasn't. He hissed again as Mog-ur took one more step and flared his skin even wider to no avail. The lizard leaped off the stone and scampered away over the light grey rock to disappear into the short grass off to the left. The lizard was very fleet afoot, becoming a blur of motion as he escaped unscathed.
Watching his go, the Mog-ur wondered how big such creatures eventually got. The memory of the succulent taste of crocodile tail never seemed to be far from his mind, it was now one of his favorite foods. He set his spear on the ground, leaning it against the center rock and sat down, readjusting the wide plaque back to the center of his hairy chest. The plaque had a stylized cave bear carved on the side facing out, hung from a single thong of thin leather around his neck.
Mog-ur kicked off his foot covers, heavy with sweat, and they landed on the rock beneath him with a plop. He reached up to scratch his chin through the tangle of his long beard, drops of sweat ran down his face. A soft breeze blew in off the flats, bringing with it the smells of the teeming life below. The cool air felt good against his sweat covered skin. His mind began to clear.