Death on the Trek (5 page)

Jeek and Gunda almost giggled aloud again.

We are leaving now.
They heard Bodd straightening his garments and walking away. Angry waves came from Vala, but she soon followed him.

The two young ones felt they should stay where they were for a long time. Vala and Bodd had not known who was listening to them and they did not want them to ever know. It grew dark. They were not sure which way to go, since all they could see was tall grass.

I will have my brother, Teek Bearclaw, show us the way,
Jeek thought-spoke.
He will be careful and not let anyone know we are out here.
He sent a message to Teek, who responded immediately. Teek walked into the grass and made a noise like an owl, since it was dark time and owls would be flying now. They jumped up and ran toward his sound, relieved.

Chapter 6

“Humans first reached Flores [a small Indonesian island] when the sea level was exceptionally low, and the island was easily accessible from the mainland. When the seas rose again, some people were trapped on the island, which was poor in resources. Big people, who need a lot of food, died first. Smaller fellows survived much better. Over the generations, the people of Flores became dwarves. This unique species, known by scientists as
Homo floresiensis
, reached a maximum height of only one metre and weighed no more than twenty-five kilograms. [Author: 3.28 feet, 55.1 pounds] They were nevertheless able to produce stone tools, and even managed occasionally to hunt down some of the island’s elephants—though, to be fair, the elephants were a dwarf species as well.”

—
Sapiens, A Brief History of Humankind
, Yuval Noah Harari, p.7

From where she squatted, her arms resting on her knees, Enga Dancing Flower tipped her face up and watched Brother Moon make his way across the darkened surface of Mother Sky. He wore wisps of gray clothing, but his round face shone through brightly. The Hamapa had been traveling for one moon cycle, from round face to round face of Brother Moon. How many cycles would it take, Enga wondered, before they found a land like theirs had been before the Great Ice approached? She missed the land of the old Sagas, where everyone had plenty to eat and everyone had extra garments, not only for warmth, but also for special ceremonies. The nights had not been as warm as they should be during this warm season, and Enga had begun wearing her bear skin cape, the cape she usually saved for dancing. Her everyday mammoth skin wrap showed signs of wear and did not keep the cold wind from her skin. Soon she would need a new one.

Hama had told them they were to stay in this place for two suns and rest. Everyone was weary of walking all day, every day, for so long. Enga looked forward to hearing a song and a Saga. From the buzzing of thoughts in the air, everyone else anticipated this with pleasure also.

Despite the small, stocky stature of Hama, she always presented an air of command. Her birth-mother had been a Hama, but Enga did not think that was what gave her the natural authority she had. She had borne three daughters who lived, and also one more child, who was born dead. But before all of that she had slain a mighty lion by herself. She was still strong. Now, when she drew herself to her full height and the rest of the Hamapa sat looking up to her, she seemed taller than she was. Her dark, bright eyes flashed, catching a strong beam from Brother Moon, almost as they had before the trek started and everyone had grown so weary. Hama nodded to the Singer, Lakala Rippling Water.

They had no central blazing fire, no place of paved stones, but they were gathered in a circle as if those things were there. Tog Flint Shaper took his place next to Enga, but Vala Golden Hair edged in next to him on the other side. The mate she had been traveling with for the last several suns, Panan One Eye, was beside Hama so that he could give the Saga after Lakala sang.

Lakala Rippling Water stood and lifted her eyes to Brother Moon, who smiled upon her and bathed her in his light, briefly, before a thick, dark gray piece of his clothing drifted across his face. She was tall, as her birth-mother had been. Lakala had been born of Aja Hama, the one Enga revered and whose image she carried. Aja Hama had also birthed Fee Long Thrower and Tog Flint Shaper, making her all the more beloved by Enga.

Lakala started a slow Song of Blessing to Dakadaga, the Spirit of Mother Sky, then trilled a more energetic plea to the Spirit of the Hunt. Her pure tones seemed to still the sounds of the insects. Surely the Spirits would smile on their trek and bring them safely to a new land. How could they resist the beautiful music, Enga wondered.

As Lakala sat, Panan, the Storyteller, rose. He started the Saga of the Little People, the ones the Hamapa called Mikino. Several interjected with a question about why he chose that Saga.

Are we near the place where the Mikino live?

If we are near them, will this Saga draw them to us?

Even though the Mikino were short, dark people with small heads on their tiny, sharp shoulders, the Hamapa feared them. They were fierce fighters and befriended no one. The Hamapa had traded with them, but were cautious always when they dealt with the slender, delicate-looking people.

Panan lifted his shoulders together with his thick eyebrows in answer. Brother Moon shone off his bald pate and, to Enga, lent him an extra air of authority. Panan said he did not know why he chose this Saga, but he continued. He told how the Mikino ate much less meat than the Hamapa, enjoying grains and plants. A shudder went around the group at this. Some pursed their lips as if they had a bad taste in their mouths. They would eat plants when they had to, but did not like them. The Hamapa would eat only meat whenever they could. It was how it had always been.

The Mikino kept large cats captive and had traded their beautiful pelts when they got low on meat while the Hamapa had plenty. In spite of having the thick furs to trade, they themselves wore thin animal skins, usually horse hides that were untreated and crude.

Panan sent a picture of a Mikino village that he had gotten from the Storyteller before him, and that Storyteller had gotten from the one before him, back into the time when one Hamapa had been to the place and saved the mental picture. The Hamapa had all seen this picture through Panan many times, but none living now had ever been inside one of their villages.

Their shacks were crude and made with sticks and grasses and smelled of the bodies of the filthy Mikino. The shacks were not like sturdy Hamapa wipitis, when they had been set up in a permanent place, weighted with stones and held up with solid mammoth tusks. Just outside the Mikino village there were caves. The Storyteller let them hear a mighty roar, then took them to the caves where the jaguars were kept. The small beings made the barriers much sturdier than their own dwellings, piling up thick logs to block the cave entrances and keep the mighty cats captive. The Hamapa had not ever seen cats that large. The tigers and other cats they encountered were smaller.

The Storyteller showed them a view inside the cave, through a chink in the logs, as it had been seen by the ancient Hamapa visitor. This Saga took place at dark time and, in the thought-pictures, Brother Moon sent a beam into the cave through a gap at the top. They got a glimpse of large cats, jaguars, their coats of the most light brown shade, and spotted with dark black and brown butterfly-shaped spots. One animal turned its head and stared at them with glowing, golden eyes. Everything else was in darkness, for the Mikino used no fire and ate their food uncooked. They fed their enemies to the cats. It was also said that they ate their own babies.

Many Hamapa had suspected the Mikino who lived near their old home when their Aja Hama was slain, had been the ones who killed her.

Enga drew her bear skin close about her neck, yet shivered from thinking about such vicious little beings. She hoped never to see one. She would also never want to meet one of their fearsome jaguars while it was alive. Only if it was dead and she could strip off and scrape the pelt. No Hamapa wore jaguar pelts now, but they used to. She had seen one when she was a small child, and she cast her mind back to that time. She remembered running her fingers along the patterns, not like any other animal she knew.

Tog broke the concentration of Enga. He leaned to Vala and picked up her squirming baby, who was just starting to make irritated noises. Enga scowled and tried to rejoin Panan in the Saga. She was conscious that neither Tog nor Vala were paying attention to it. One other was not attentive to the Saga either. Bodd Blow Striker, the new Gata with red hair, seemed to be concentrating on Vala and Tog. Enga clamped her jealousy as tightly as she could, in her own personal private shade of dark blue.

A hot-colored thought seared through her mind cloak, though, before she could return to the Mikino village with Panan. Mootak Big Heart seethed. His angry thought was clear. He would have chosen a more apt Saga for this night, if only Panan would let him assume the title of Hava, Storyteller.

The old man is too ancient. A younger one, like me, should take over.

Enga shot him a private warning.
Your thoughts are being heard by everyone
. Mootak glanced her way, frightened. She knew he feared being disciplined for his feelings if others heard them. The tribe ignored him, however. Maybe, Enga thought, they were all too weary to bother with the transgression of a young one. Enga was certain it would not happen again. Those thoughts would not be displayed publicly. She knew he would think them, though.

Panan had probably not received the stray thoughts, as he was concentrating on recalling and transmitting the Saga of the Mikino. The Saga ended with the Hamapa male leaving the Mikino village unharmed, and with several jaguar pelts he had received for the pouches of dried mammoth jerky he had taken there to trade. Sounds like high-pitched jeering laughter followed the Hamapa male as he left.

Enga did not want the gathering to end with this. She wanted Lakala to sing again and she wanted to dance. She had not danced enough since they had left the old village. Maybe that was a thought that dwelt on herself too much, but she did think that Dakadaga had always brought good fortune to the tribe, in part, because of the dancing of Enga, the best dancer. When her dances were joined with the flute and the drum, what Spirit could resist?

She wafted a tentative thought to Hama about dancing and more music, but Hama answered that everyone was weary.

When all lay down for sleep, Enga was disturbed by visions of tiny, sharp-toothed beings who wore untanned skins and stank of their own filth. The beings in her vision gobbled up the infant of Vala and even that of Enga, the one that had not yet emerged from her body.

Chapter 7

“Ice Age jaguars…were at least 15 to 20 percent larger than living jaguars (
Panthera onca)
… During the…Wisconsinan ice age (71,000 to 10,000 years ago) the northern boundary of their range stretched from Nevada, Kansas, Mississippi, and Tennessee… Jaguars (were) the largest New World cat and the only one that can roar… (T)hey presumably resembled living jaguars, with beautifully spotted coats distinctly different from the tan coats of lions.”

—Ice Age Mammals of North America: A Guide to the Big, the Hairy, and the Bizarre
by Ian M. Lange, p. 110

111

When Sister Sun had traveled three hand lengths above the surface of Brother Earth, the Hamapa began to feel uneasy. The land here held a few puny plants, but nothing big enough to support large animals. They could not remain here and be inactive. So they gathered their belongings and equipment, and began to move again.

They walked along a row of stunted trees of white bark until they gave way to even more stunted shrub plants. There could not be a danger of a large unnoticed animal in this land. Here, too, was a place the mammoth had fled. But something unknown was unsettling the tribe.

Jeek began to notice that there was a foul odor in the air. Panan eventually held up his hand and halted the tribe. He raised his nose and sniffed. Jeek sniffed deeply, too. The last Saga surged into his mind. This was the odor of the filthy small people. Mikino were near!

Jeek saw Tog Flint Shaper look around, but he was not looking for the little people. He spotted Vala Golden Hair and her awful child and moved to put his arm around her shoulder. Jeek frowned. This was not right. Tog was the mate of Enga Dancing Flower. They should stay together to protect each other. The older birth-brother of Jeek, Teek Bearclaw, was near to their mother, so Jeek walked to Enga and patted her hand. He was rewarded with a smile, but her eyes darted away from him, watching Tog and Vala. Her eyes were sad.

As Jeek stood next to Enga, his mind was filled with buzzing from the tribe. There was much agitation at the thought that the Mikino were near enough to smell. Jeek sniffed again, very deep into his nose and brain, and almost recoiled at the odor of the little people. This odor had been conveyed to them with the stories of Panan, so they all knew what it was.

A mighty roar split the air. Jaguar! Jeek nearly fell to his knees. The fearsome cats in their cages were near enough to hear. The tribe was very, very close to the Mikino village. The smell of fear sprouted from each Hamapa.

Now Jeek caught a whiff of the large cats. The hair on his skin prickled and rose up.

The tribe had still not reached a place where game abounded, so they all knew the Mikino must be hungry. Even if they ate a large amount of plants, there were not many plants here.

Jeek wondered why they had not left this place, but before he could think further, the small beings burst upon them from the scraggly brush.

Their high-pitched shrieks paralyzed the Hamapa, filled them with terror for a moment. Then each female dropped her pack and reached inside for her spear. Each male drew his knife from his waist pouch.

Before anyone could lay a weapon on a Mikino, they had slid close and cut the food pouches from most of the adults. They were very quick. Fee Long Thrower and Ung Strong Arm, the two best mammoth hunters, flung spears at the thieves as they scurried away. Ung hit one in his tiny leg. All of them raced away. The wounded Mikino left a trail of Red. It was a trail no Hamapa would follow, as it would lead to their village. That was a place they would not go.