Death in the Time of Ice (22 page)

There was evidence the beavers had begun rebuilding, close to their old lodge. A new dam lay across a narrow neck of the same stream, upstream from their old habitat. The beavers had collected a pile of twigs and had gnawed and felled a few trees.

Jeek crept away from his pit and explored the area, trying to see where the beavers had spent the dark time. He froze when he heard a stirring behind him.

He sniffed the air.

Beaver.

A slight swivel of his head revealed one of the smaller female beavers very near, five of his own body-lengths away.

He had debated with himself how to get one of the animals to the trap. Should he drive it, as they did caribou and bison? Or should he show himself and let it give chase, as they did with the large cats and peccaries? He assumed this animal would be too timid to chase him, so he had decided to try and drive it to his trap. The Spirit of the Hunt was with him; the trap lay beyond the creature. All Jeek had to do was drive it toward the hole.

The beaver had seen Jeek and stood still, studying him with its small eyes. Jeek straightened from his crouched position and walked slowly toward it. It backed away two steps. Then he let out a whoop and ran at it, hoping it wouldn’t chomp on him with its long, shiny tusks, wouldn’t bite off a limb as had happened to poor Kung. He would make sure it did not catch him if it came at him.

It turned away and crashed through the undergrowth. Jeek tore after it, veering from one side to the other, steering it toward the trap. It swerved just before the hole. It was going to miss! Jeek stood still, then maneuvered around the beast, now catching its wet fur scent full force. He screamed once more, “Yi-yi-yi-yi-yi!” and jumped at it.

It reversed, lumbered over the branches, and fell in! Now Jeek let out a cry of triumph. It had worked! He had trapped a beaver!

He sat beside the trap, grinning, panting, and savoring his victory for a moment. Then he crawled to the lip of the well and peered over.

No!

The beaver was tearing at the sides of the hole, her huge claws removing dirt many times faster than Jeek had when he’d dug it. The walls collapsed. The beaver kept clawing. More dirt tumbled down, piling up. Soon the beaver climbed, easily, out of the hole and scurried off through the trees.

Jeek wailed himself to sleep and slumbered while Sister Sun arose, traveled the length of Mother Sky, and headed toward Brother Earth. He awoke, cold and alone, saw his destroyed trap, and wept again for a short time. He was so hungry. A great ache crawled inside his belly. A new one welled up in his chest.

After his tears stopped, Jeek rose and trudged back to his village.

A cluster of people surrounded Roh Lion Hunter near the fire. Roh held something in her hand. Panan One Eye stepped over to take it as everyone looked at it, open-mouthed.

Chapter 18

The oldest positively dated musical instrument was discovered in a cave in Slovenia. It was a flute made by the Neanderthals out of the bone of a cave bear. It has been dated to 50,000 years ago. 

—From: http://www.paleodirect.com/cavebear1.htm

Enga Dancing Flower thought Fee Long Thrower looked wonderful. True, she was wan and thin, but her eyes were bright and she was smiling at the ravenous baby boy smacking and gurgling at her breast. As much of the tribe as would fit crowded into the wipiti to see for themselves that Fee was back among them. No one’s thoughts touched on the attack, on the baby’s crippled hand, or on Doon, his treachery and disgrace. There would be plenty of time to tell her about that later.

One by one they drifted out the doorway, Enga lingering just a bit more to watch the happy baby. Her longing for one was intense.

When she emerged onto the Paved Place, it was dusk. She saw a small group gathered around Roh Lion Hunter. Hama stood nearby scowling. As Enga neared, she saw Roh was holding a figure in front of her with both hands, presenting it to the onlookers.

Enga made her way through the crowd, which was growing larger with every moment, and sucked her breath in when she saw it. The wooden carving, about as tall as a hand-length, and beautifully polished, was the image of Aja Hama, the beloved leader they had buried a few suns ago. The image was very much like the one Enga had seen the day Aja Hama died, only larger. That image had disappeared, then reappeared in the present Hama’s possession. This new one could only be the work of Stitcher.

Tog Flint Shaper appeared beside Enga and took her hand. The beating inside Enga quickened.
Soon, soon I will approach Hama about our First Coupling.

Yes, do. Soon.
Tog’s dark eyes shone in the firelight. Enga tore her gaze away to watch Panan.

Panan approached Roh and held out his hand for the carving. He took it gently and rubbed a finger over the belly. Then he held it up so all could see it clearly. His thought-speak was calm.
This is a most remarkable carving. It is as if Aja Hama were still with us.

He turned it over in his hands and inspected it. A head poked up beside Enga. She looked down to see young Jeek beside her. Tog had moved closer to Panan. Jeek’s hands were caked with dirt and his face was tear-streaked.
Are you all right?
she thought-whispered to him.

He nodded, but his face was somber, frowning.

Look
, she thought-spoke to him.
Panan One Eye holds a carving Stitcher did of our Aja Hama. Isn’t it beautiful?

Yes
, agreed Jeek. Enga noticed his distress lessen a bit and his eyebrows relax. But he was agitated about something.
The figure even has her hair braids carved into its head. How could he do that?

Enga did not know, but neither did she know how he put garments together like he did. It could not be explained.

She sent a private message to Jeek.
If you come to my wipiti after this meeting, we can talk.

I do not want anyone to know I am talking to you, I think.

After the meeting, everyone will be tired and ready to go home. No one will notice us.

He nodded at her eagerly and a small smile of relief lit his face.

Panan turned to Hama, who stood apart from the cluster, glaring at Stitcher.

Why do you despise it so?
he asked her. She gave no answer, but her hatred radiated from her scowling face. Then he turned to Roh.
Where did you find this?

I went to the wipiti of Hama to fetch her so she could share in the good news about Fee Long Thrower. Stitcher was just coming out. That carving was lying on the ground and the Hama was aiming dark wishes at Stitcher. She was refusing to accept the carving as a gift and wanted harm for him.

While she listened to Roh’s thought-speak, Enga watched Stitcher. He still stood just outside the door of Hama’s wipiti, looking unsure of his next move. Even though, as Enga knew, he did not read the thought-speak of Hama, they all knew he could tell she was displeased and angry. Anyone could. A kernel of sympathy for him began to grow in Enga. He was trying so hard to make the Hamapa like him. And Hama had been friendly with him until he had given her this carving. But it was of her birth sister, the one she had always been so jealous of. It wasn’t an image of her. He should have given her an image of her own self.

This is something we could trade with the Mikino
, thought-spoke Panan.
They would treasure items such as this. If Stitcher can make more of these, we will take them to their village on our next trading mission.

Panan placed the carving on a large flat stone near the fire where it could be seen and admired. Then he astonished Enga, and the whole tribe, by making the Pronouncement Hama should have made.

“Hoody! Listen! The Storyteller speaks. At darkness the Hamapa tribe will give thanks to the Spirit of Healing. The Hamapa celebrate the good health of Fee Long Thrower and the carving of Stitcher.”

Enga stole a quick look at the visage of Hama. It was now closed up tight, like her thoughts. Her face looked as if it, like the figure’s face, were carved of wood.

Panan motioned for Stitcher to come close to him. Shrinking with distrust and timidity, Stitcher limped across the paving stones to stand next to the Storyteller. Panan put his hands on Stitcher’s shoulders and smiled. He waved toward the carving and nodded his head up and down. Only then did Stitcher relax his shoulders, slightly, and smile back at Panan.

Tog had returned to Enga’s side and caressed her shoulders. She leaned into him.

It is well you are seeking permission to couple soon,
he thought-spoke.

Enga smiled. His desire was so easy to read.

It is best you do not gaze upon Stitcher too much.
He pulled her closer.

She had thought she was keeping thoughts of Stitcher clamped down. Did he see them? She stiffened slightly.

He does not have good intentions toward you. You should stay far away from that one.

Enga nodded.
I agree with that. I am keeping away from him.
She stole one more glance at him, though. Those thin white hands, Enga marveled, those hands that carved such beauty, were the same ones that had torn at her clothing and assaulted her in the Holy Cave.
How can this be?

* * *

Before the celebration began, Panan One Eye, again preempting Hama, declared they would discuss the slaying of Aja Hama and try to determine what had happened.

He started by having each member of the tribe convey their actions that day. He went first.

Mother Sky wept small tears that morning. I stayed in the wipiti of the males, coming out only to eat, until the hunting party returned. I reviewed the Sagas to choose one for the gathering.

He waved a hand at Cabat the Thick.
I, too, stayed in most of the day.

But you went to Hama’s and quarreled with her,
interrupted Panan.

Cabat frowned.
I was about to relate that. We quarreled and I became angry at her.

Why?
asked Panan.

Cabat shifted his weight where he sat.
It was trivial.

And yet you became so angry.

I brought her something to eat. She did not want it. And we were all so hungry. She flung the gruel at me and I ripped her garment. The antler buttons popped off. Then I left.

Enga had seen no gruel on the ground. She didn’t think she believed his reason for the quarrel. And it did not sound like something Hama would do.

Panan gestured toward Hama, who was then Nanno Green Eyes.

I lost my mate that day.

Our Hama was killed before the hunters returned with the news,
Panan thought-spoke
. They did not broadcast it ahead.

You cannot think I killed my birth sister.
Hama had been sitting with the rest. Now she rose and looked down at Panan, menace in her eyes.

I am trying to understand what everyone did that day, where they were and what they saw. I am not saying you killed your sister. I am asking what you did that day.

Hama closed her eyes for a moment. Then she sat down, looking a little calmer.
I went into her wipiti after Cabat did. It was just as the hunters were returning. She was already dead. But when I found out Kokat had been killed on the hunt, I could not think of anything else. So I did not tell anyone. What of Stitcher? Does anyone know what he did that day? Where he went?

Panan stared at Hama.
You have seen the carving he did of Aja Hama. He could not have killed her when he thought enough of her to carve her likeness.

Panan turned to Roh Lion Hunter.
You were not on the hunt. What did you do that day?

I pounded meal,
Roh answered.
I tried a small hunt with my little girls, but could not walk very far. I was still weak from losing my last baby. We did not bring anything back from the hunt.

I saw them leave and return,
thought-spoke Sannum Straight Hair.
Most of the day I worked on a new spear head. I did not leave the village, but I did not go to Aja Hama’s wipiti either.

Ongu Small One jumped to her feet.
This will not tell us what happened to Aja Hama. No one here killed her.

Panan stood and faced her.
I fear you are right. This will not reveal who killed her. But we must think of a way to find out what happened. We will discuss it again another time.

* * *

The celebration was in full swing. Jeek’s mood began to lift just a little. He would speak to Enga Dancing Flower after the meeting and hoped some weight would lift from his mind. Roh Lion Hunter had gone to the woods earlier with Gunda and, to his surprise, speared the cat of long-tooth he had seen on the caribou hunt. It turned out to be a medium-sized cat.

There was plenty to eat for this night, but one cat would not last all winter. If only he had been able to trap and kill a beaver; it was many times larger than the cat. He tried to darken his bleak thoughts and rejoice in the fact that his stomach was full for now.

Jeek was happy to see Tog Flint Shaper dancing very close to Enga Dancing Flower. He liked both of them and it looked like they would mate some day. That day would be a happy one, like this, but, he hoped, with even more to eat. He looked forward to sharing his thoughts with Enga later.

Panan One Eye, Storyteller, followed the singing of Lakala with the Saga of the Vanished Horses.

Once many small horses ran free on the plains. These horses were like the large ones that roam in herds now, like the mammoth also do, but were smaller than horses now and very fleet. They were eaten by large predators, and some were eaten by Hamapa, although we have always preferred slower, larger game. Our Ancient Ones began to notice there were fewer and fewer of these small horses over time. Large herds dwindled down to small ones. Then an Ancient One, who was a good tracker, saw a herd going toward the place where Sister Sun goes to sleep and followed them. Maybe this was a time when they needed food and he wanted to hunt them. I do not know why he followed them, just that he did. They ran for many suns, then many moons