Hope of Earth (6 page)

F
LO FOLLOWED THE PATH EVERY
day to the glade, but there was never anything. Jes went with her, understanding her need. But in time they had to give it up. The baby was gone.

Sam brought meat and shared it with the others, and Flo recovered her strength. She put more time into foraging, and the foraging was good, and they all did well. Still, she knew that they would not have done well if she had kept her baby; she would have been weaker, and would have needed more, and it would have put an unconscionable strain on the band. She felt guilty for their success, purchased at the price of her baby.

But they were too small in number to be a band. They were six band siblings who had gotten separated from their original band, and now they had their own cave in the vicinity of several other bands. Their time spent struggling to survive on their own had bound them together in a way they had not been before. Sam and Flo were grown, and Ned and Jes were growing, while Bry and Lin remained children. They were like a large family, and they all looked out for each other, and they didn’t want to separate.

In some bands, the males went out to seek females in other bands, and joined those bands. In others, females went out to the other bands. But the six of them had resolved to remain together, bringing both males and females in, if they could. They had a good location, with adequate foraging and hunting, and they knew how to crack open the bones to gain the most from the animals they killed. But they needed more members, so that no other band could come and drive them off.

Sam was big and strong, and had gotten more so recently, but he had a problem. He believed he was cursed to mate with an ugly female, because he had seen ugly animals mating. So he wasn’t eager to find a woman. But Flo knew that there had to be mates, because they could never be a true band without couples and children. One day when she was foraging for roots with the others, while Sam was out searching for a carcass to scavenge, she brought up the subject. They were of course busy eating what they found and dug out, but since more time was spent in searching and digging than in eating, there was time for words.

“Sam need woman,” she said, speaking each word carefully so that they could understand. When anyone spoke too rapidly, the words ran in together and became incomprehensible, so time had to be taken.

Little Lin put her fingers in her mouth, stretching it wide. The effect was exaggerated because of her deformed hand. “Ugly woman,” she said.

“No,” Flo said firmly. “No ugly.”

Ned agreed. “Sam fear ugly. No mate.”

“Tell Sam,” Lin said.

That was the problem. Sam believed his vision, and did not listen when Flo or anyone else tried to tell him that he didn’t have to mate with an ugly woman.

“Flo need man,” Ned said.

“Man no mate Flo,” Flo said with resignation. She knew that she was cursed, because she had been raped and then lost her baby. What man would want her after that?

“Man mate Flo,” Ned said.

“Tell Flo,” Bry said, imitating Lin’s tone, and the two laughed.

“Man no,” Flo repeated.

Ned faced her. “Tell man baby no,” he said seriously. “Man know no.”

Flo was astonished. It had never occurred to her that the people of other bands wouldn’t know of her problem. But smart Ned was right: How would a man know, if she didn’t tell him? If the others didn’t tell him? Her body had resumed its early form, and her cleft had narrowed, so that there was no sign that a baby had passed through it. “Tell no?” she asked, looking at each of the others. This was a phenomenal new concept: that of pretending to what wasn’t true. Always before, what wasn’t true had no meaning; could it now have benefit?

“Tell no!” they chorused. That meant that none of them would tell. She would seem to be an ordinary woman, without the curse of a lost baby. Ned had found the way.

They discussed it further, as they completed their foraging, and decided that Sam and Flo should go out together to look for mates from another band. Sam should have no trouble, because of his evident size and strength, but even without the curse, Flo would surely find it difficult, because she wanted to bring a man back here. So she was resigned to likely failure. But she would make the effort, because it was a pretext to make Sam come with her, so he could find a woman. He wouldn’t go alone; despite his size and power, he lacked certainty by himself, and was largely helpless. Some woman might talk him into joining
her
tribe.

As they returned from their foraging, with a few extra roots to share with Sam, they saw him approaching the cave with an armful of bones. He had found a carcass, and brought back the leg bones for them to crack open and share. So it would be a good evening.

Flo broached the subject after they had eaten all the marrow. “Sam find woman. Flo find man. Sam Flo go.”

“No,” he said.

“Yes!” all the others cried.

Sam was physically strong, but had trouble with intellectual debate. So he shrugged.

Next day the two of them set out. Ned was left in charge of the cave; he was clever at finding ways to make it difficult for any stranger to enter. He could balance rocks so that they fell at the slightest touch, landing on tender feet, and he was adept at putting sharp thorns in unexpected places. He would make any foreign raid during their absence awkward. Even so, Flo didn’t like leaving the four children alone, but she saw no alternative. They had to remain to maintain possession of the good cave.

They took a devious path, and walked on past the territory of their nearest neighbor band, because they knew that there were no suitable mates there, and the others knew too much about them. They needed to approach an unfamiliar band. Their band’s path linked to the neighboring band’s path, becoming less familiar, but it was all right because all people had a common interest in connecting to others. Otherwise how would mates ever be found? As long as they stayed on the path and kept moving, they would probably not be molested.

They did not encounter anyone. That wasn’t surprising, because there were not many bands. Their own had come from another place, moving into new territory, and others had closed in around them similarly. The other bands were larger, so could hunt more effectively, and got the best animals first, which was why their own band had to scavenge more often than not. Where the elder generation had come from they didn’t know, but Flo’s impression was that it was far away. Whenever things got crowded, some people moved; it had always been that way.

Of course the other bands would be aware of their passage. Every band kept watch over its territory. Little Bry had sharp eyes and was always alert for motion or traces; he knew when strangers passed near, but never showed himself. It would be the same with any band. Foreigners were not to be trusted; only when they became sufficiently known were they accepted, grudgingly. That was why mating was difficult; it was not fun for a woman to join an unfamiliar and tacitly hostile new band. Especially at first, when she could be sexually tried by any or all males who desired her, before one decided to make her his own. But it had to be done, if she wanted to breed.

And Flo was making it even more difficult for herself, seeking to make a man come to her band. Yet such a thing was not unknown, if there was a man who wanted to move, or a woman who was uncommonly appealing. Was Flo appealing enough? Her body had matured with the experience of having the baby, and now her breasts were large and her hips wide; she was well fleshed. She remembered seeing adults like that, before the six of them got separated from their original band, and they had attracted the interest of many men. She had learned to walk in a way that accentuated her qualities, attracting male eyes. She had practiced it, before the curse of the rape and lost baby, and Sam had said that if she hadn’t been his band sibling he would have found her matable. She had had to cover her head to garner that opinion, because otherwise Sam could not even entertain the notion. Band siblings were family. She knew how it was, because when Sam covered his head, she could see that he was a good mating prospect, but otherwise the question never entered her mind.

She thought again of her lost baby, as she tended to do when not actively distracted by something else. She had had to leave the baby girl to die, then changed her mind, but someone else had taken her. Not anyone in the immediately neighboring bands; it was generally known when a woman had a baby, and all new children were accounted for. But a traveling woman from a more distant band could have taken her. So Flo’s eyes were open; maybe she could find her daughter while visiting farther bands. Then—

That was where her mind always balked. She still couldn’t take care of a baby. Her milk had dried up, so she couldn’t nurse, and without a man to bring her occasional meat she couldn’t have supported a baby anyway. So her child was lost, regardless. Yet still she longed for her! Maybe at some point she would see a baby with a scarlike mark between her toes, and know it had been hers.

They strode rapidly, staying mostly on the level paths and in open regions where possible, making no effort to conceal their presence. Of course this warned away game, but that was the point: They were not hunting or foraging for more than they needed to sustain them on the way; they were traveling. The folk of other bands would recognize that, and leave them alone. Since there were few reasons to travel, others would understand their purpose. When they entered the territory of a band in need of mates, contact would be made.

By the end of the day they were near the edge of their familiar range. They foraged for berries and grubs, then made a camp amidst a thicket where no large animal could approach without making a commotion, and slept. It wasn’t easy, sleeping in the field, but there was little choice when traveling. Certainly Sam would protect her, if anything came in the night.

In the morning they grubbed for edible roots, drank water from a stream, and resumed travel. Now they were heading into strange territory. Flo hoped that there would be a band here looking for mates.

And in the afternoon contact was made. They approached a fording place in a river, guided by the path, and there was an old woman. She stood directly in their way, and that was signal enough: female meant she was no threat to anyone, and old meant she was not looking for a mate herself.

They came to a halt before her. “What?” the woman asked. It was the general purpose query about their business here.

Sam stared at her, until Flo nudged him. Then he remembered. He tapped his chest. “Sam need woman.” He lifted one arm and flexed a muscle, showing his capacity to support a mate.

Then it was Flo’s turn. She brushed back the longer fur of her head. “Flo need man.” She stood up straight and inhaled, showing her capacity to interest a mate. Then she added. “Man go Flo band.”

The old woman looked sharply at her. “Flo go man band.”

“Man go Flo band,” Flo repeated firmly. “Small band, good hunting.” Or at least it would be good hunting, if they had the men for it, so they could be first instead of last after the prey.

The woman peered more closely at her, especially her full breasts and broad hips. Then she shrugged. She turned and walked up the slope, taking a path that surely led to the band camp. They followed at a respectful distance. Due deference was by far the best course, in foreign territory; men would be watching.

The camp was much like their own, with several caves above, and a glade cleared of brush below. The band members had turned out to see them. It was much larger than their own; there were eight grown men, nine grown women, several old folk, and too many children of all ages to count. All of them stared curiously at the visitors.

The band leader stepped forward. “Joe,” he said. He gestured to another more slender man who stood beside and a bit behind him. “Bil.”

“Sam,” Sam said. He indicated Flo. “Flo. Siblings.”

“Siblings,” Joe repeated, understanding. That meant that they were not mated to each other. Their business here was now obvious. “Where?”

Sam pointed to the west. “Days.” That meant they had traveled more than a day from that direction.

Joe nodded. He glanced at the old woman, and he and Bil rejoined the other men. The formalities of peaceful introduction had been accomplished.

The old woman described their business. “Sam need woman.” She glanced at him, and Sam flexed his muscle again. There was definite interest by several of the elder girls. “Flo need man.” Flo inhaled again, and spread her legs somewhat apart, and there was interest by all of the men, though that was deceptive because those already mated weren’t eligible. “Man go Flo band.”

The atmosphere changed. It was clear that the men had a good band here, and no man wished to leave it and be a stranger in a foreign band. “Man go no,” Bil said.

“Flo band,” Flo said. She had made her decision and intended to stick to it, though it cost her a mate.

But there was a cunning look about the old woman. Sam was oblivious, but Flo could see she was planning something. Not anything hostile, but definitely something. “Wona,” she said.

Bil nodded, evidently understanding the ploy. Bil seemed to be the smart member of this band, like Ned in her own band.

From behind the women came one who had remained in the background. This must be Wona. She was a stunningly beautiful young woman. Her fur was light and fine, her breasts large and firm, and her hips were wide. She moved lithely, showing no weakness of body anywhere. Her face was so sweet that it was almost impossible not to like her at first glance. But Flo made the effort, knowing that there was a catch somewhere.

Wona came to stand before Sam. She smiled at him and inhaled. Sam’s intake of breath was audible across the glade. He was well impressed. His penis was lifting. He had feared he would have to mate an ugly woman, and here was an absolutely lovely one being offered to him.

The old woman waited until she was sure Sam was hooked. Then she spoke again. “Dirk.”

A man hobbled forward, clutching a bamboo staff. He was not using it as a weapon but for support; he was almost too weak to walk without it. The reason was hardly obscure: he had been badly injured. His ribs were bruised on one side, and were probably broken, and there was a large fresh scar on one leg from a wound that made the use of that leg painful, as each wincing step demonstrated. It would be some time before this man was much good at hunting.