Chapter 15

 

Circa 1100 BCE

“I don’t understand why we’re following them.”

“Because we can’t stay out here on our own forever.”

Attuz looked at me with doubt, but at eleven years old he was not about to challenge me on this. Another couple of years down the line, maybe, but not now. In the three winters since our village had been attacked we had been living off the land, avoiding contact with others, and doing rather well. Still, we had to find a place to settle down. Indeed, I had been a little selfish and I knew it. We had seen no sign of the riders in more than a year, and I had been avoiding doing what I knew I needed to do.

We chose to camp a good distance from where I expected the hunters to stop, conveniently downwind from the site. I left Attuz with the job of setting up while I set out again to make certain they were headed where I expected.

I had seen these hunters a few times since we had migrated closer to the coast in the spring. They were organized and disciplined, and they seemed relaxed. Most important to me, they bore no resemblance to the riders who had massacred Att’s people and deprived us of our home. This time rather than giving them a wide berth I was trailing them, at a good distance of course. They followed familiar trails, seeking deer, only this time rather than the normal four there were seven—a fifth man, really not much more than a boy, and two women. I had seen this before: when they were after larger game women often joined them, and not just as porters. They would act as beaters, flushing game, and were often in the thick of the kill.

Once I was certain of their destination I circled around, moving fast to get well ahead of them. The game trail was clear to see and I sought out a spot with the proper ground, finding a wide stretch of softer loam. At a leisurely and deliberate pace I strolled across it, leaving clear tracks in my wake. This was nothing more than my way of letting them know somebody was there.

I took up a position some distance back from that spot and waited for them to pass. The boy was in the lead and he did himself proud, stopping several paces ahead of my little sign and signaling the others. They let him look it over and I could see them asking him questions. He gestured off in the direction I had come from, then off to the north. They made some comments and the boy set off north to follow my path. I thought I had done a decent job of covering my tracks once I was in the deep brush, but I could hear him coming closer after some time. I softly crept backwards, careful to bend and break as little as possible as I did so. Then he cut back over to the trail and rejoined his companions.

“She circled around behind us, I think,” I heard him say. She?

“She?” one asked.

“She.” He replied with conviction. “She really knows how to cover her tracks, has to be an adult.”

“So, where is she?” the tallest of the men asked. I liked their manner: cautiously concerned, but not tense or angry, just probing to see how much he had observed.

“Nearby, I’d think. Maybe watching us now. Those tracks were left on purpose. She wanted us to know she’s been here.”

“How can you be sure?” one of the women asked.

“Because it was hard to follow her when she didn’t want me to.” He pointed to the tracks in the soil. “She wanted these to be seen.”

I considered revealing myself. They seemed a normal enough group, and I was encouraged to know they sometimes included women in their hunting. Still, Attuz was back at our camp, and I had been gone most of the day. Normally this was not a problem—I had left him alone for a day or more at a time before. But with the hunting party near and his concern about that, I felt it better to let him know what was happening.

I circled wide again and got ahead of them, then sprinted along until I reached their most likely campsite. From a low-hanging tree branch I hung a clutch of rabbits I had collected through the day, just another sign of good intentions. Then I made my way back across the hills to our camp.

“I think this will work out well,” I told Attuz after describing the day’s doings. He glowered at me, but said nothing. “They look like good people.”

“We don’t need them!” he spat, then turned to the low, covered fire, turning the rabbit that was our dinner, his back to me. I could see the tension in his shoulders, and I moved in behind him, sliding my arms around his chest, drawing him close.

“It will be okay. I promise,” I whispered. “They’re going to be impressed by you, you know.”

He straightened a little then, and I turned him to face me, my hand settling on the necklace of bear claws that adorned his neck. “How many boys do you think have killed a bear at your age, hmm? They’ll see you and they’ll think ‘My, what a brave young man!’ and they’ll decide you should be hunting with them.”

“They’ll like you, too,” he said, turning his face up to grin at me. I laughed.

“I’m certain they will.”

Of course, that was more hope than certainty. But I felt good about these people.

We were up as the sky was turning gray with the dawn. After a quick meal of berries and mushrooms we struck our simple camp and prepared to head out and make the acquaintance of the hunting party. As we set out over the ridge I turned to look down into the valley behind us. The sun was just peaking up over the ridge, shining down on the light mist that had settled in the night, bringing the green of the canopy into high relief. It was as if I could see the whole forest coming to life beneath us, and for the first time in many, many mornings I found myself admiring the simple beauty of it. Hope has a way of making people see things in a brighter light. I knew I was doing the right thing.

I let Attuz lead as we made our way quietly, parallel to the game trail. He had good eyes, but I was watching for more than just a hunting opportunity. It would be a poor introduction to stumble into the other party by accident. I was so focused on that that I was startled when he hissed quietly at me.

Down! he gestured silently, with his hand, his back and knees bending, looking over the crest of the latest hill.

I squatted and slid silently up beside him to see what had his attention, there to the south.

What do you think? he gestured silently, with his left hand.

There they were: A small buck and a doe. A little odd that there were only the two of them, and they seemed a little more skittish than usual. Perhaps the other tribe had already been about, and had scattered them? Regardless, we were in an excellent position, and neither appeared to be injured.

“I think the buck would make a nice present to our new family,” I breathed almost wordlessly into his ear. I looked up, judging the light breeze, then motioned Attuz off to the south.

I gestured: Down by that log. Flush them from there. Take your time.

Right, he gestured. We quietly stripped off everything but our loincloths while calmly watching the two deer ahead. He glanced at me, in that way he had been beginning to lately whenever we did this, and I smiled grimly to myself, knowing I was right that our time together was drawing short. I silently drew my long knife from its bag and handed it to him, then watched as he slipped carefully off to the south, down the slope and out of sight.

They were calming as I watched, the fluttering of ears and tails settling as they began to graze furtively. I set out my gear and chose the sturdier of my two spears along with my short blade, then began inching around to the north and east, creeping just a pace every ten heartbeats, watching the prey intently for any signs they might be aware of us.

It was a painstakingly slow process to set up something like this, and the reward was by no means certain. Anything might spook the prey: we could do everything right and still have naught to show for a half-day’s stalking but cramped muscles. When Attuz flushed them they would probably take a bounce or two directly away from him, then turn. If we were lucky, one would turn towards me. If not, we would watch their hindquarters disappear into the brush. It would have been better to be down the slope than above them, but we took what fate handed us and made the best of it.

Motion caught my eye and I froze. Down the slope, past the prey, cross-downwind and nearly opposite from me, a man was creeping slowly along, much as was I. We were stalking the same animals. I looked towards where Attuz should be, but he was still concealed. Checking the two animals and their positions, I decided I should take a chance. I lifted myself up a bit, swaying my head rhythmically back and forth, back and forth, then ducking, hoping the hunter had seen the motion of my red hair. I saw him freeze. Our eyes met. I lifted my spear in my right hand, and then showed him the palm of my left. He did the same. I gestured off towards where Attuz should be and saw his gaze travel in that direction, then lock for a moment before returning to me. He understood.

I watched him melt into the ground as he began moving south again while I continued around opposite. One of us should have luck with this.

The sun had made some progress across the sky when I finally reached my spot. I saw nothing of the other man, but had to assume he was set up across from me. If others of his party were near, as they should be, they might be opposite from Attuz, but they had to be a fair way off or their scent would be picked up. We had approached the game with the same tactic, just from opposite directions.

Now it all hinged on the boy.

Attuz exploded from the brush with a scream, charging at the deer with his arms flailing. Both of them leapt straight up and charged hard away—one bounce, then two, and the doe turned south while the buck turned north, almost straight at me. Thrilled at my luck, I rolled but once to my right, staying low, then planted the butt of the spear firmly, bracing it with my foot and lifting the point just as the terrified buck crashed out of the brush and leapt again. He screamed as the head of the spear sank into his soft underbelly, the shaft shuddering under the impact.

I dove to my left as the animal collapsed over the spear, snapping it, then began kicking and thrashing as it whistled with pain and fear. Rolling to my feet, I danced around the struggling beast until I could seize him by an antler and straddle him, then twisted his head around to expose his throat. My knife sank into his neck and I drew it sharply upward, blood spraying as the artery in the neck was severed. I held him, keeping my place until the kicking stopped, then let his head fall to the ground as he gasped his last.

Attuz was still running up the hill towards me, but he stopped when he heard me shriek and ululate, then jumped and yelled in delight. We both shrieked together as he skipped to me, his hands jubilantly clenched in the air, and he joined me in celebration even as similar victory was given voice further down the slope. Attuz was clearly surprised and a bit fearful, at least to my eye, but he beautifully feigned cool dignity as a woman and two men emerged from the brush below him and approached us.

I wiped sweat, blood, and perhaps a bit more from my eyes as we strode forth to greet them.

 

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Methuselah’s Daughter, A Novel

Posted on July 18th, 2007 by Zsallia
Filed under: The Novel