All Living : A Seedvision Saga (9781621473923) (21 page)

“The Lord has been quiet lately,” was all Adam would say.

Then that night, Adam had insisted that Kole partner with him for the next morning’s family hunt. Kole thought about refusing, but the look in Adam’s eyes had been such that Kole had reluctantly acquiesced. He was eager to put this business with Cain behind him and to begin living again. How good it would feel to find Kesitah and finally have the family so long denied him. Perhaps Kesitah’s sons would come with her and help Kole to build his own city, a city to honor his new wife. These thoughts kept Kole warm while the sun slowly climbed into the heavens, even as the dew on the grass chilled Kole to his bones. It occurred to Kole that even while the mind might supply warming and pleasant thoughts, the body’s actions, lying in the wet, morning grass among other things, could cause discomfort. The significance of this bothered Kole in the back of his mind.

Again he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. This time when he turned he saw a gray blur and a twig on a nearby bush springing back into place. He fixed his gaze on the bush and this time was rewarded when a small bird landed once again on the branch. The bird cocked her head to one side and regarded him thoughtfully, as if wondering whether she was a safe enough distance from this strange man who seemed to enjoy lying all morning in the wet grass.

Kole was tempted to whistle to her but refrained, knowing that strict silence was key to not giving away his hidden position to any of the soon to be approaching herd. But the little bird had other ideas and sang a short four-note song that stunned Kole. His mouth dropped open, and his eyes grew large. He knew that tune, in fact. He had made it up. Or so he thought. He stared dumbfounded at the little bird.

There was no way that this could be the same little gray bird that he had whistled that very tune to during the days that he had travelled to the garden in Eden. That had been well over a hundred years ago. Did birds even live that long? Kole could not remember ever seeing a bird that had died of old age. He had had sheep that had gotten old, had slowed down, and eventually not woken up. He had seen other animals that had died, not from injury or sacrifice or for food but just from… Well, he didn’t know. He had assumed their time had just run out.

But surely his little gray travelling companion from a hundred summers ago was not this same little gray bird in front of him. He heard her whistle the tune again, then cock her head the other direction at him as if to say, “What do you think of that?”

Kole was not sure what to think. If this was the same bird that he had known so long ago, then surely this world would never cease to surprise him. But if she were not, then what explanation was there? Could that small bird from his pre-garden life have passed his song on to her chicks? Then they in turn passing it on, so that the tune that he created survived countless generations of birds, preserved still in this present moment?

Kole glanced around for someone, anyone of his family who may have also heard this small, feathered fowl sing her oddly out-of-character notes, but the landscape was empty of any obvious human presence. When Kole again found her tiny form among the leaves of the bush she once more sang his song to him, twice in quick succession, then leaped from the branch and flew off into the surrounding foliage. Kole hoped to see her land again nearby, but she did not return.

He knew he would miss her now, more for seeing her the second time than if he had not seen her at all. In fact, he had not thought about her once since returning from the garden, and marveled that he had connected the two occasions so quickly. The reunion held a strange significance for him that he couldn’t shake, and it was only at that moment that he realized he was indeed thinking of her as being the very same bird who had accompanied him to the gates of the garden. He convinced himself of it but did not know what that truth might portend.

That animals lived and died but at differing lengths of life? And which ones lived the longest? And how did their life spans compare to that of man? And in fact, how long would a man live, before he eventually slowed down as well and ran out of time?

Kole had, in fact, also never seen a person die of old age. Could they even die from old age? Was there a limit to the life of a man? If his time were not cut short, would a human being just continue to live forever? The Lord had said, “Do not eat from the tree lest you surely will die.” But only two people had ever eaten the forbidden fruit. His mother and father, they would surely die, but when? Maybe the when depended more on the how.

But what of everyone else, the offspring of his parents? What time was allotted to them to live upon this earth? Mankind had been given dominion over the things of this world, over things that filled space. But man was not given dominion over time. Time was to be dominated only by God. Man would always be at its mercy, captive in the corral of time like sheep in a pen. Kole looked around at the vast land around him and suddenly felt less free, more confined. The world had quite abruptly become a stranger to him.

Down in the valley, near the lake, Kole noticed movement. The herd had arrived.

The beasts were enormous, taller than Kole at the shoulder and nearly as wide as Kole’s outstretched arms. They were huge, dark brown behemoths with dense, shaggy hair on their heads and haunches. Their shoulders wore a mantle of the same tangled mane, matted and clumped from the dust and the mud, twigs and leaves adorning the fur like buttons and beads. Their hind legs were thick with meat and heavy with muscle, rippling and contracting as they moved into and out of the water. When they shook their heads, their long hair flung beads of water that caught the morning light and drenched their neighbors.

There was a great jostling and pushing going on among the herd as each animal tried to slowly push their bulk nearer the shore. Even from this distance Kole could see the pale stripes of lighter colored fur along their spines and hear the great sucking noises as their hooves stamped and pulled out of the muck along the muddy beach. But most impressive of all were the immense horns that stood up from their foreheads.

Located just between the ears, the hard bone of the curved horns sat at a wicked forward angle, an appropriate compliment to the beast’s obviously aggressive temperament. As Kole watched, two of the bulls in the herd, blacker in color than the reddish-brown females, clashed horns and knocked heads. Kole could hear the muffled thud of it as they pushed and butted each other for several minutes before one wandered off unsteadily in the opposite direction along the bank.

The herd was impressive; several hundred animals all jostling for the best positions near and in the water.
I must have been deep in thought not to have heard them long before now
, Kole thought to himself as he spied on them from his hiding place. They moved with surety, performing a morning ritual that was instinctive and habitual, the need for water strong in such creatures, in all creatures. Their confidence was not misplaced.

Kole could see predators slinking along behind the herd, biding their time, hoping to find a weak, ill, or injured animal to cull out from the group. A pack of wolves skulked about in the scrub that grew on the side of a nearby hill, whining and waiting. Two or three large cats crouched on rocky shelves, eyes wary and tails twitching. Kole realized that he and the men with him were also watchful predators, seeking out the weak spots in the herd’s defenses, waiting for the right moment to descend with swift surprise and deadly intent.

But the herd had strong bulls and protective cows along its outside edges. The calves were all sheltered toward the center of the herd where they rolled around in the muddy marshes, thoroughly enjoying themselves and oblivious to the dangers that were so evident to the adult animals.

The morning air was still cool, and the steam from the collective snorting of the vast herd turned the air blue and smoky above them. Kole watched with absolute stillness. Not only were the creatures captivating to behold, but Kole actually had no idea what he was to do next. Had he been hunting these animals alone, Kole figured he would try to creep in closer and wait for an opportunity to present itself. But his father and the other men from camp had hunted these beasts before and had definite strategies that they had painstakingly developed over the last hundred years. The last thing that Kole wanted to do was make a wrong move and stampede the herd in an undesirable direction.

Kole’s eyes darted up as he caught sight of a bird, but it was only a vulture sensing that a free meal was imminent. The blue sky had lightened considerably and the heavens were clear and cloudless. The air was cool and crisp but calm. The morning breeze had yet to stir from its slumber.

A disturbance down by the waterline drew Kole’s attention. A cow and her calf had been bathing in the seeming safety of the water, drinking and splashing and confident that any threat to the herd that meant to impose itself waited on the other side of the massive wall of bodies.

They had swum out to where the shallows dropped off and the water turned a darker blue above the depths when a black, scaly form that had been submerged suddenly surfaced near the middle of the lake. Two quick flicks of its tail brought it to within gliding distance of the young calf. The mother bellowed a warning, and the calf panicked, losing its footing on the sandy bottom and going under.

Suddenly the water was roiling as the hideous reptilian form of the crocodile surged forward and snapped its jaws around the back half of the adolescent hrak. The mother cow seemed torn between her instinct to flee in panic and her instinct to protect her young. The rest of the herd either saw or sensed the danger in the water and began to back away from the shoreline, bumping into each other in their scared confusion.

A large male hrak roared a warning as if trying to maintain control over the herd’s survival instinct. But it was already too late. Cows and calves started to run, but with no room to move they overran each other. Some slipped and fell to the ground and were nearly trampled before struggling back up on their feet. The crocodile squeezed its powerful jaws shut, and teeth sank into flesh and bone. A brilliant crimson spray exploded from the young calf, soaking those hrak that were closest and turning the water near the shore a ruddy mud color. The smell of blood drove the animals to madness. In a frenzy, the herd bolted and began to run in all directions. That was when Kole saw the first pair of hunters.

The two burst out of concealment and began to run down the hill toward the herd, yelling and screaming crazy gibberish to confuse the animals that were heading in their direction. Two more pairs of hunters leaped from their hiding places and joined the chase, as if seeing the first pair had been a signal that the time was right. The animals fled from this new threat with equal fervor, turning in midstride and crashing in to each other. Kole stared for a moment longer before he realized that his father, Adam, had just bounded past him and was plunging down the hill in long-legged strides, spears thrust out before him.

Kole fumbled to get a grip on his two spears, then sprang from his prone position and raced to catch up. The valley was a nightmare. The animals were screaming, eyes wide and white with terror, spittle flying from their mouths and snot flying from their nostrils. Bits of broken turf and gravel spraying everywhere, the pounding of their hooves was thunderous as they charged in a panic anything that appeared to be an obstacle to their flight from danger.

Kole noticed two of the lionesses in the distance bringing down a large cow, the gashes from their claws on her hind quarters proving to be fatal. Kole also heard the wolves howling and yipping, taunting the terrified animals with their hunger.

Kole caught up to his father, and they sprinted to join the rest of the hunters. As Kole passed Adam, running down the hill in exhilaration, he turned and Adam gave him a broad smile. Kole smiled back and laughed, picking up his pace and leaping ahead. He did not see Adam’s smile slip off his face and turn into a look of pure fear. Kole, intent on catching up to the other hunters, seemed to forget the fact that these beasts were enraged by the loss of their young, were maddened by the instincts of panic surging through them and could quickly turn from prey to predator.

One of them it seemed already had and this is what Adam had seen that Kole had not. A large male bull had come barreling out of the pack of frenzied animals and, lowering his head, rushed to gore Kole in his blindside. But Kole’s speed and momentum carried him past the animal’s horns by a hair’s breadth and down the hill into the midst of the panicked animals. It was then that Kole realized he had overextended himself. The bull that had just missed ending Kole’s life dug his hooves into the soft earth and brought himself to a grinding halt. He swung his massive head around, bloodshot eyes seeking and finding Kole, then with an enraged bellow of frustration and hatred, he charged again.

Other animals, already frightened by the crocodile in the water and the smell of blood, by the lions and the wolves and the hunters, now had a new object of fear. The cows and calves scattered like wind-tossed leaves in the face of this new threat. An enraged bull would gore anything in its madness, even its own kind.