Death in the Time of Ice (3 page)

I cannot either.
Ung returned the carving and lowered herself back onto her warm fur.
Do you ever receive any from him?

No, I do not think he can communicate with any of us. I thank Dakadaga you are my sister. I could not have a better one.

Ung shrugged off Enga’s praise.
You are my twin. I will never forsake you.

Enga gave Ung’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze and readied herself for sleep. After she took off her foot wrappings, she emptied her pouch and lined up the contents on the dirt floor, between her sleeping fur and the wall. Side by side, she set her bone for putting up her hair, her shells and leather thongs she used for hair adornments, her extra spear tips, a smooth rock she had found with an odd shape, and her new carving. As she lay awake, trying to relax enough to fall asleep, she resolved to be on the lookout. This encounter had raised her neck hairs with a whiff of the same distasteful, harmful vibrations she had sensed earlier.

Her mind turned to Tog Flint Shaper, but the New One intruded there, also. Had the New One wanted to couple with her? But she wanted to couple only with Tog. In the future, she would avoid the New One as much as she could.

She did not want anything to interfere with her First Coupling with Tog.

Chapter 2

The high incidence of degenerative joint disease in Neanderthals is perhaps not surprising given what we know of the hard lives they led…

—In Search of the Neanderthals,
Christopher Stringer and Clive Gamble, p. 95

Well before first sun Enga Dancing Flower stole across the Paved Place toward the wipiti of Hama. She had slept badly, the hunt and this mission preying on her mind.

The Paved Place of the Ancient Ones served the Hamapa tribe well. The Hamapa were proud of their Ancient Ones, and of their own tribe. In fact,
Hamapa
meant “the Most High People,” and Enga would always be grateful she had become a member of this clan.

The vast eyes of Mother Sky still twinkled, but Brother Moon had gone into the earth. The central fire, now almost died out, gave her the only light, but she could smell her way to Hama in the dark.

She walked past the dwellings of the others. The domed structures, ribbed with mammoth tusks and covered with layers of animal hides, ranged around the Paved Place in a half circle. The tusks stood in deep holes, and rock piles held the edges of the hides down against the wind and weather. Comfortable body scents clung to all the wipiti.

How could we move all of this? If we do not, though, how could we build a new village? We must have a Paved Place for our gatherings. Can we carry and set enough rocks, kill enough mammoths for our new wipiti?

Hama’s wipiti stood at the end of the semicircle and a little apart. When Enga reached it she hooted softly outside the closed door flap, shivering slightly in the cold, damp air in spite of her mammoth skin wrap. She tugged it tighter and her finger poked through, making a hole in it. She needed a new wrap.

Hama sent out her invitation.
Come inside, Enga Dancing Flower. You are cold.
Her thoughts seemed sluggish and sleepy.

I think I have awakened you.
Enga hoped she had not put her leader into a bad mood. This woman had raised her and Ung, and, because of that, they usually had an easy relationship. But Enga was always conscious of Hama’s role as leader of the tribe, above that of her adoptive mother.

The next thought from Hama was gentle.
I was about to arise for the day. Come in where it is warm.

Enga lifted the flap and entered, then squatted beside the fur on which Hama lay, rubbing her eyes to awaken. Enga sat far enough away to convey respect, since this was an official visit.

My Hama
, Enga thought-spoke,
I come in the formal way to ask for permission to make a First Coupling with Tog Flint Shaper
.

She kept her eyes on the edge of the fur bed and waited for her answer. No thought waves came from Hama. Enga stole a glance at Hama’s wrinkled face. The leader, propped up on one elbow, fell onto her back and gave Enga a gentle smile. Enga leaned forward. Surely this was a good sign.

I cannot give you my blessing right now.

Enga’s chin dropped to her chest. She hadn’t expected this. She raised her face, blinking back tears.
No blessing? Why, my Hama?

You must come back tonight after the hunt, my child. If there is food enough, we can celebrate a new coupling. I would hate for your First Coupling to happen without celebration.

She’d been sure Hama would extend her blessing. A weight formed inside her. It almost kept her from rising. Stumbling to her feet, she blurted out,
Can I not be given special permission? Am I not special to you?
Right after she sent the thought, Enga cringed. She was being disrespectful.

These are harder times than we have ever had, Enga Dancing Flower. It is not a time to start babies. We may be facing hunger such as we’ve never known.

Hama reached to Enga and touched her hand, then let it go.
Everything is changing. I will tell you of news I received. You are the first to hear this.

Enga felt privileged she was learning fresh news before the rest of the tribe.

A member of the Gata tribe contacted me from afar with thought-speak, late, after last sun. Do you remember the Gata people?

Enga nodded, standing over her leader.
Yes, I remember trading with them once when I was younger. They are beings much like us.

Yes, they dwell in the direction of last sun.

Why does this concern me?

It concerns our tribe. It tells us how hard the times are now. Their leader died from a sickness and the tribe is quarreling like a pack of coyotes over a piece of meat.

But we would never do that. Where is their new leader?

They are unable to elect a new leader. There is no one to hold them together. They are not hunting.

Not hunting?
A tribe had to hunt, Enga knew.

They may starve in the next season, the Season of Dark.

Enga shuddered.
But our tribe would never do these things. We would share our meat. We would hunt. We would elect a new leader.

I hope we would. The Gata female,
continued Hama,
asked me if we could take any of them in. I had to tell her no. I don’t know if we can feed our own people in the coming Dark Season. We must hope it is mild and short.

Enga knew that Hama was more worried than she had let the rest of the tribe know.
So you think these things could happen to us?

I do not know. I would not like to find out.

It worried Enga for her leader to be so uncertain.

Then Hama opened her mind further to Enga.
I am so sorry about your First Coupling, Enga Dancing Flower. I know you hope to have it soon, and I hope for that also.

Enga felt a glow inside. Hama did hope for good things for her. And having Hama open her mind so frankly like this felt like the old days when Enga and Ung lived with Hama, then their foster mother. That was before she was elected the leader, when she had been called Jansa Wild Wind.

Hama mused aloud, sharing more of her thoughts.
The wind is pushing the game away from us, pushing us to follow it, away from the Great Guiding Bear who dwells in Mother Sky at dark time. There are difficult times ahead, Enga Dancing Flower.

Hama’s thoughts gave Enga much to consider and she left, deep in reflection, to prepare for the long day ahead. She had danced well. The hunt would succeed. It had to.

* * *

At first sun the tribe gathered at the central fire for the hunt. As all raised their voices together, hoping the Spirits would hear them, Enga Dancing Flower and Ung Strong Arm exchanged their private fears.

There was no game to be found the last time we went out,
thought-spoke Ung.
Not even hares or deer.

But Kokat No Ear found a herd at the watering hole where they used to be.

Ung shrugged.
That doesn’t mean they’ll still be there by the time we arrive.

The tribe chanted aloud their fervent hope of a kill, asking the Spirit of the Hunt and Dakadaga to bless their endeavors.

Their height was not great, most of them barely over five feet, but their limbs were thick and muscular. The hair on the heads of the youngest members riffled in the wind, some the color of the flames, like Enga’s. The adults who were to participate in the hunt had gathered their locks into hunting braids that hung down their backs.

“Leela tza sheesh. Dakadaga tza sheesh.”

Enga Dancing Flower joined the others in chanting for Leela, the Hunt Spirit, and Dakadaga, the Sky Spirit, to bless the kill. Then she crouched to eat from the meager food, taken from the nearly empty storage pit.

Dried fish and dried hare again
, complained Ung.

At least we have some stores left
, answered Enga. She knew a small amount of smoked peccary and mammoth remained.

That will be enough for, maybe, one more full moon. Then our stored food will be gone.

When they had finished their inadequate meal, Hama addressed them mentally.
If this hunt does not go well, we will consider other options. Even if the hunt brings us food, it may not be enough. In the past, the males have gone on trading trips. We must think about such a trading trip. We have extra knives and our knives are good. Others like to trade for them.

Several of the females made sour faces. They did not like their males gone.

Enga and the other hunters took up the spears they had laid beside the fire the night before, the ones they had danced around. The males picked up their flint knives, stuck them in the pouches hanging from their loin cloths, and flung the large hunting skins over their shoulders. They would use these skins to drag back chunks of meat and piles of mammoth skin. The two males appointed to guard duty, the Elders, and the young would stay behind.

The hunters filed past their three Elders standing in a line at the edge of the Paved Place, the Most High Female, the Most High Male, and the one-eyed Storyteller. Hama drew herself up to her full height and rattled her gourd in time with the chanting as the hunting party departed.

Usually Hama, the Most High Female, stood shoulder to shoulder with her current mate, the Most High Male. Today, the Storyteller stood between them.

Enga queried Ung.
Do you think Hama is changing mates?

She has done it before. It bothered no one.

But our tribe doesn’t need complications right now.
Enga shoved this notion to the back of her mind to concentrate on the hunt.

The blessing of the Elders cheered Enga. The hunt had to be successful. She saw this in all the hopeful faces, read it in all the thoughts.

And if they brought back enough food, Hama would surely grant her request to couple with Tog Flint Shaper. Enga folded these thoughts deep inside, wrapped in dark purple, so no one would discover them. She must not detract others from concentrating on their task.

The Hamapa hunting party trotted over the plain, dotted with lakes and woods, that lay in the direction of last sun, at a steady pace, stopping only at high sun for a few bites of the dried mammoth meat the males carried. They squatted under a stand of tall poplars with leaves of brilliant yellow, almost the color of Sister Sun. Mother Sky blew a soft breath of wind toward them and a few of the branches let go of their leaves, which fluttered down to the grass beside them.

Soon the band rose and began loping through the waving grass toward their destination again. Kokat No Ear, an older male with a puckered face and no ears, his appearance caused by a fire accident long ago, led them toward the herd he had seen on the last scouting mission. His leg had also been injured many summers ago, on the night Enga and her birth sister, Ung, had been brought into the tribe. In spite of this he moved well. The mammoth herd had not been seen near here for several months until Kokat had spotted them.

Mother Sky began to exhale her breath as a brisk northern wind, but Sister Sun still held warmth in her embrace and they welcomed it. Soon, in another moon cycle, her light would hold no heat and the wind would cut into their faces.

Kokat No Ear encouraged them by sending out an image of the area where mammoths took their water, almost one sun’s journey from the village. They trotted on and reached their destination well before last sun, just before the time when mammoths would come. Enga and the other females had slain two peccaries—those tasty, succulent pigs—three full moons ago here, at this same lake on the wide rolling plain. That had been the last successful kill.

They rested in the tall spruce and poplar trees at the edge of the lake, waiting until hunting time arrived. As last sun approached, Enga and Ung broke limbs off a spruce tree, crouched in the tall grass, and covered themselves with the fragrant branches. Enga knew this did not take away their odor, but it could confuse the animals. They knelt, clutching their weapons, with plenty of space between them as was their hunting custom.

The other two spear throwers remained in the woods, their bodies pressed close into the needles of the spruce trees. One of the hunters, Fee Long Thrower, was large with a baby, but, for now, she could still spear without hindrance. She was usually a strong and graceful runner, Enga thought, but not so close to birthing.

She waited with her tribal sisters for the animals to come and take water. Her brothers also waited in the woods, staying out of the way until the kill. When she and her twin sister started attacking, joined by the two females in the woods, the males would emerge and attempt to distract the beasts.