Death in the Time of Ice (15 page)

Gunda ran to the target and picked up the spears. Jeek kicked the ground around him, searching, then picked up a straight stick, almost the length of a spear. He watched Gunda and held the stick just as Gunda held her spear. She sighted the center of the skin and held the spear straight out before her, then drew her arm back and hurled it. It fell short. Enga Dancing Flower sent her a kind message of comfort, smiling warmly at her, showing her deep dimples. Enga held Gunda’s arm and guided it, trying to correct her throwing, but it did not improve in three more tries. The next girl took her turn.

Jeek watched for a few more moments. It was obvious to him that none of the young girls would be ready to hunt soon. The youngest, only six summers old, could barely hurl the spear halfway to the target.

He traveled farther into the forest with his stick. On the edge of the stream he found a thick bush with dark purple berries, the sour ones called softberries. He concentrated on one small berry and threw his stick at it. He hit a berry, but not the one he had tried for. He made another attempt. The stick missed all the berries and traveled deep into the bush. He crawled into the bush to get the stick, groping in the shadows for it. Something sharp pricked him and he drew it to his mouth to suck the Red that formed a little bead on his fingertip.

Looking more closely he saw a pile of antlers, looking as if someone had hidden them there. He briefly wondered if he should let the tribe know so they could use them for something, but then he saw his stick next to them. He was eager to practice, so he dragged it out and kept throwing it until he hit a targeted berry. A huge grin split his face when he did. He threw and threw and threw, hitting more and more of the berries he aimed at.

Now he wanted to try it with a real spear, no matter what his mother said. He returned to the practice area to watch from behind the ferns.

After the group broke for a rest, he thought-called Gunda to him, softly and narrowly, so the others could not hear.
Follow me into the woods,
he told her.
And bring your spear
.

I should tell Enga Dancing Flower I am leaving
, answered Gunda. She glanced around for Enga, but didn’t see her.

Come on
, Jeek urged.
I must show you something. It’s not far.

Just for a minute, Jeek. I don’t want to miss practice.
Gunda left her group and joined Jeek.

It won’t take long.

The warmth of Gunda beside him almost made him dizzy. He took her hand, small in his, and led her. When Jeek reached his softberry bush he asked to borrow Gunda’s spear. She was confused.

What would you do with my spear, Jeek? Males do not throw spears.

But maybe it is a time for something new. We have no meat and no spear throwers. I have been watching your practice. None of you can throw well enough to bring down an animal.

Gunda frowned, but handed her spear to Jeek. The renewed touch of her soft little fingers stopped him for a moment. Then he threw the spear at the bush. It went too far.

Gunda looked a question at him, but he retrieved the spear and tried a few more times. When he hit the berry he aimed for, Gunda’s small mouth fell open, then smiled. That smile brought sunlight into this dark part of the forest.

We should tell Hama, Gunda. I can hunt for the tribe.

Once more Gunda frowned.
But we use more than one hunter to bring down a large beast. You cannot get a mammoth alone. Maybe you should keep practicing until you can throw three spears at once.

Remembering the pile of antlers in the bush, Jeek started to send a thought to Gunda.
I have another surprise. Look what I found.
He took a step toward the bush.

Just then Gunda received a message from Enga Dancing Flower which she shared with Jeek.
They are resuming practice. I must return.

She grabbed her spear and hurried away to rejoin the group. Jeek followed behind her, mad at himself for bragging, and for saying she didn’t throw the spear well. What if she didn’t like him anymore? She had frowned when he said that.

At the clearing, the two children halted. The spear throwers had left. Jeek and Gunda opened their minds and caught an urgent summons. They trotted toward the village.

The light was fading, the time of darkness was coming. All Hamapa knew they could not be in the woods during the darkness. They must be near fire. The fiercest of the predators roamed at night, but the animals feared fire.

Jeek asked Gunda if he could carry her spear. She said no.

Gunda thought-spoke,
The others are just ahead. Let’s run to catch them.

As he ran Jeek considered telling the elders of his new ability.
But
I do not think I will be allowed to hunt. It has never been done that a male throws the spear.

Gunda looked at Jeek and pondered.
Do you really think you could help the tribe, Jeek?

He turned to face her as they jogged, slowing now as they drew near enough to the village to smell the smoke from the fire.
I want to hunt.
He waved his arm like a spear thrower to emphasize his thoughts.
But maybe I won’t ask permission. If I ask and I am denied, then I cannot hunt.

Gunda stopped and turned her eyes on him. They were the color of new spring leaves, even in the gathering dusk.
You want to hunt without permission? Alone?

Maybe not alone
, he answered.

Suddenly, a clamor met them. Many Hamapa were wailing aloud. Jeek and Gunda looked at each other, puzzled. What could be the trouble? Jumbled thoughts were flying, too many and too distraught to make sense. Some of them sent pain and some sent a vision of brilliant, flowing Red. The two children broke into a run.

One vision emerged above the others: Fee Long Thrower, unconscious, followed by the face of her baby, screaming. Jeek’s chest grew cold. He ran faster.

Gunda’s mother, Roh Lion Hunter, met them as soon as they entered the village. She had sensed them coming. She drew Jeek and Gunda to her and squeezed them against her soft breast. Roh was not much taller than Jeek, a stocky, solid female. She was not tall like her birth mother, who was now the Hama. Trying to rest his head on her shoulder was awkward as she gripped them both in her strong arms.

Our beautiful baby!
Her voice wailed high and sharp.
The baby has been hurt! And Fee Long Thrower also!
Roh gave them a thought-view of Fee’s wipiti. They understood Roh was seeing this through Jeek’s mother, Zhoo of Still Waters, who was in the wipiti.

A small inside fire burned near the doorway, throwing as much shadow as light on the support tusks and the walls of mammoth skin. The baby lay kicking and squalling on the dirt floor, his tiny pink hand mangled and crushed, his cozy bed of camel skin empty next to him. Fee lay very still on her bearskin, and her Red was flowing from a wound in her hair. Zhoo knelt near Fee, radiating calmness.

Jeek closed his eyes and touched his mother’s mind lightly to see Fee and the baby better. Several Hamapa females, led by his mother, were in attendance. Zhoo was finishing wrapping Fee’s head wound, who was not awake. Two of the others bent over the baby, picked him up and carried him to Zhoo. She placed him in his nest of soft camel skin and examined his crumpled little fist. The baby and Fee both smelled of milk, overlaid by the hard smell of Red.

Then Jeek’s mind filled, unbidden, with Doon’s vision he had seen, the vision of the beaver attacking the baby. Was it possible Doon could predict the future? He had vowed to keep track of Doon and make sure he didn’t follow through on his dark thoughts. Jeek had failed. He had gone off into the woods to watch Gunda, forgetting all about Doon.

What is this new thought, Jeek?
This came from his mother.

Doon had notions of the beaver hurting the baby of Fee Long Thrower. I heard them. Could Doon know the mind of the beaver?
he asked.

I do not believe so,
she answered.

He guarded his thoughts about Doon from the others, not sure what meaning to give to them. He wanted to find out more before sharing his speculation with others.

Wait!
thought-spoke Roh to Gunda and Jeek.
I have just received a message from my mate, Donik Tree Trunk.
She eyed Jeek, then continued,
This must wait for later.
Jeek wished she would tell the news, because his brother, Teek, was on the trading mission with Donik and he had not had communication from him since two suns ago.

A summons to gather at the Paved Place was issued by Hama. The Most High Male went to stay with Fee and Zhoo during the meeting, and the rest of the Hamapa plodded with heavy feet to the gathering place.

Hama stood and delivered a thought.
Doon had a message for the Hamapa.

Jeek jerked his head up, surprised. Doon, giving the tribe a message?

Doon strode slowly to stand beside Hama. When everyone had squatted and turned their full attention on him, he thought-spoke.

This baby, and Fee Long Thrower also, they have both been attacked by a giant beaver. I saw the beaver enter the wipiti of Fee Long Thrower and Bahg Swiftfeet. I saw the beaver leave the wipiti.

Thoughts tumbled toward Doon.
Why did we not see this? There is no scent of beaver. When did you see this? Where is the beaver now?

He answered only partially.
The young girls were shooting, the males were gone trading, the rest were gathering nuts in the forest. And now Fee Long Thrower and the baby are dead.

Jeek’s eyebrows shot up. Fee Long Thrower was not dead, but Doon had just said she was. The others did not heed Doon’s last thought. Jeek found this curious, but that last thought-speak was softer and more obscure than the rest, and they were always used to ignoring many of Doon’s thoughts. The tribe was terrified at the idea of a giant beaver coming into their village. Jeek could tell this consumed them. They shivered and clutched each other. He wished his mother were beside him.

This has never happened since ancient times
, the Storyteller told them.
The giant beaver no longer eats Hamapa. Has anyone seen tracks?

Hama spoke aloud. This was her second Official Pronouncing. Every male and female took notice.

“Hoody! Listen! The Most High Female Speaks. The Hamapa will slay the giant beaver. The Spirit, Dakadaga, bless the Hamapa. The Spirit of the Hunt, bless the Hamapa.”

So, with no discussion and too much haste, Jeek thought, it was decided. The Pronouncement made his empty stomach feel queasy. The Hamapa would hunt the giant beaver. The Hamapa seemed too stunned to object to Hama’s quick decision.

Maybe we can eat the meat,
thought-spoke Cabat. Jeek shuddered.

Lakala Rippling Water started a Song of Blessing to Dakadaga, the Spirit of Mother Sky, but Jeek heard her voice, usually fluent and beautiful, waver and crack. She next sang for healing for Fee and the baby and the tribe did a dance for them, accompanied by Sannum Straight Hair’s slow drum and Panan One Eye’s flute.

Then the Hamapa laid out their weapons and danced around them for a pre-hunt blessing, but their feet were heavy. Their minds were turning, one by one, to consider if it would be wise to hunt the beaver. Not all the thoughts were guarded.

Lakala continued with a Song of Blessing to the Spirit of the Hunt. This one was more intricate than the Song of Healing and Lakala stopped several times to sip from a water gourd in the middle of the chant. The New One held the gourd out to her.

Jeek sat at the edge of the dejected gathering, wrapped in his moose skin and his dark thoughts. He heard the confused thinking of the tribe as if at a distance.

How can we hunt and slay a beaver?

We have never done such a thing.

And if we do slay it, what do we do with the carcass?

Eat it? We have never eaten beaver.

And for good reason.

Some of them wanted to go see the tracks at Fee’s wipiti.

In the front of his mind Jeek reasoned that Doon held twisted emotions regarding Fee and her baby. Doon thought about the baby being attacked. And then it happened. He tried to think of a benign explanation. Maybe Doon did not predict the future. Jeek did not believe he could. No one could predict the future. Maybe Doon made his vision come true.

A heavy hand gripped Jeek’s shoulder.

Shut your mind! You are thinking harmful things of Doon.

He looked up into Kung’s handsome, sneering face.
Bad things happen to those who wish ill to my friends.
Kung’s words ran a chill up the back of Jeek’s neck and made the hairs on his arms bristle like a porcupine. Kung’s fingers dug into Jeek’s shoulder, hard; then Kung released him and strutted away.

Now Jeek had a new thought. Had Kung helped Doon with the attack? He must discuss this with someone. He ran toward the wipiti of Enga Dancing Flower and Ung Strong Arm. Before he reached it, however, Cabat the Thick stepped in front of him.

Where are you going in such haste?
Cabat asked.

I want to, I want to see if Enga Dancing Flower needs anything. To see if she needs help with Ung Strong Arm.
Some instinct told him not to confide in Cabat.

She does not. And she is busy now. Do not disturb her.

It occurred to Jeek that Cabat was the birth father of Kung. Had he overheard their exchange? Could he tell that Jeek wanted to talk about Kung with Enga?