Mammoth Hunters (19 page)

“But it was a dangerous thing to do, Ayla. You could have gotten hurt,” Jondalar said. He sounded angry, but it was reaction from the fear he felt for her when he realized what she had done. Then he looked at Talut and pointed to a third spear. “Whose spear is this? It was well thrown, landed deep in the chest. It would have stopped him, too.”

“That’s Ranec’s spear,” Talut said.

Jondalar turned to the dark-skinned man, and each took the measure of the other. Differences they might have, and
rivalries might put them at odds, but they were first human, men who shared a beautiful, but harsh, primeval world and knew that survival depended upon each other.

“I owe you my thanks,” Jondalar said. “If my spear had missed, I would be thanking you for my life.”

“Only if Ayla’s had missed, too. That bison has been thrice killed. It didn’t stand a chance going against you. It seems you are meant to live. You are fortunate, my friend; the Mother must favor you. Are you as lucky in everything?” Ranec said, then looked at Ayla with eyes full of admiration, and more.

Unlike Talut, Ranec had seen her coming. Careless of the danger of long sharp horns, her hair flying, her eyes full of terror and anger, controlling the horse as though it were an extension of herself, she was like an avenging spirit, or like every mother of every creature who had ever defended her own. It seemed not to matter that both horse and she could easily have been gored. It was almost as though she was a Spirit of the Mother, who could control the bison as easily as she controlled the horse. Ranec had never seen anything like her. She was everything he’d ever desired: beautiful, strong, fearless, caring, protective. She was all woman.

Jondalar saw how Ranec looked at her, and his gut wrenched. How could Ayla help but see it? How could she not respond? He feared he might lose Ayla to the exciting dark man, and he didn’t know what to do about it. Clenching his teeth, his forehead knotted with anger and frustration, he turned away, trying to hide his feelings.

He’d seen men and women react as he was doing, and had felt pity for them, and a bit scornful. It was the behavior of a child, an inexperienced child lacking knowledge and wisdom in the ways of the world. He thought he was beyond that. Ranec had acted to save his life, and he was a man. Could he blame him for being attracted to Ayla? Didn’t she have the right to make her own choice? He hated himself for feeling the way he did, but he couldn’t help it. Jondalar yanked his spear out of the bison and walked away.

The slaughter had already begun. From behind the safety of the fence the hunters threw spears at the lowing, bawling, confused animals milling around inside the surround-trap. Ayla climbed up and found a convenient place to hang on, and watched Ranec hurl a spear with force and precision. A huge cow staggered and fell to its knees. Druwez threw
another at the same bison, and from another direction—she wasn’t sure who threw it—came yet another. The humpbacked shaggy beast slumped down, and its massive low-slung head collapsed on its knees. Spear-throwers gave no advantage here, she realized. Their method was quite efficient with hand-thrown spears.

Suddenly a bull charged the fence, crashing into it with the force of tons. Wood splintered, lashings were torn loose, uprights were dislodged. Ayla could feel the fence shaking and jumped down, but it didn’t stop. The bison’s horns were caught! He was shaking the entire structure in his efforts to break loose. Ayla thought it would break apart.

Talut climbed the unsteady gate, and with one blow from his huge axe, cracked open the skull of the mighty beast. Blood spurted up in his face, and brains spilled out. The bison sagged and, his horns still caught, pulled the weakened gate and Talut down with him.

The big headman stepped nimbly off the falling structure as it reached the ground, then walked a few paces and delivered another skull-crushing blow to the last bison still standing. The gate had served its purpose.

“Now comes the work,” Deegie said, gesturing toward the space surrounded by the makeshift fence. Fallen animals were scattered around like hummocks of dark brown wool. She walked to the first, pulled her razor-sharp flint knife from the sheath, and straddling the head, slit its throat. Blood spurted bright red from the jugular, then slowed and pooled dark crimson around the mouth and nose. It seeped slowly into the ground in a widening circle, staining the dun earth black.

“Talut!” Deegie called when she reached the next mound of shaggy fur. The long spear shaft sticking out of its side still shuddered. “Come put this one out of its pain, but try to save some of the brains this time. I want to use them.” Talut quickly dispatched the suffering animal.

Then came the bloody job of gutting, skinning, and butchering. Ayla joined Deegie, and helped her roll a big cow over to bare its tender underside. Jondalar walked toward them, but Ranec was closer, and got there first. Jondalar watched, wondering if they would need help or if a fourth would just get in the way.

Starting at the anus, they slit the stomach to the throat, cutting the milk-filled udders away. Ayla grabbed one side
and Ranec the other, to tear open the rib cage. They cracked it apart, then with Deegie almost climbing inside the still warm cavity, they pulled out the internal organs—stomach, intestines, heart, liver. It was done quickly, so the intestinal gases, which would soon start bloating the carcass, would not taint the meat. Next, they started on the hide.

It was obvious they needed no help. Jondalar saw Latie and Danug struggling with the rib cage of a smaller animal. He nudged Latie aside, and with both hands tore it open with one powerful angry rip. But butchering was hard work, and by the time they were ready to skin, the effort had taken the edge off his anger.

Ayla was not unfamiliar with the process; she had done it alone, many times. The hide was not cut off so much as it was stripped off. Once it was cut loose from around the legs, it separated rather easily from the muscle, and it was more efficient and cleaner to fist it loose from inside or to pull it off. Where a ligament was attached and it was easier to cut, they used a special skinning knife with a bone handle and a flint blade sharp on both edges but rounded and dull at the tip, so as not to pierce the skin. Ayla was so accustomed to using handheld knives and tools she felt awkward using a hafted blade, though she could already tell she would have better control and leverage once she got used to it.

The tendons from legs and back were stripped out; sinew was put to a wide range of uses from sewing thread to snares. The hide would become leather or fur. The long shaggy hair was made into rope and cordage of various sizes, and netting for fishing, or trapping birds, or small animals in their season. All the brains were saved, also several of the hooves, to be boiled up with bones and scraps of hide for glue. The huge horns, which could span as much as six feet, were prized. The solid ends that extended for a third of their length could be used as levers, pegs, punches, wedges, daggers. The hollow portion with the solid distal end removed became conical tubes used to blow up fires, or funnels to fill skin bags with liquids or powders or seeds, and to empty them again. A central section, with some of the solid part left intact for a bottom, could serve as a drinking cup. Narrow transverse cuts could make buckles, bracelets, or retaining rings.

The noses and tongues of the bison were saved—choice delicacies along with livers—then the carcasses were cut into seven pieces: two hindquarters, two forequarters, the midsection
halved, and the huge neck. The intestines, stomachs, and bladders were washed and rolled in the hides. Later they would be blown up with air, to keep them from shrinking, and then used for cooking or storage containers for fats and liquids, or floats for fishing nets. Every part of the animal was used, but not every part of every animal was taken; only the choicest or most useful. Only so much as could be carried.

Jondalar had taken Racer partway up the steep path and, to the young horse’s distress, tied him securely to a tree to keep him out of the way, and out of danger. Whinney had found him as soon the bison were penned and Ayla let her go. Jondalar went to get him after he finished helping Latie and Danug with the first bison, but Racer was skittish around all the dead animals. Whinney didn’t like it either, but she was more accustomed to it. Ayla saw them coming, and noticed Barzec and Druwez walking downstream again, and it occurred to her that in the rush to get the bison turned and chased into the trap, their packs had been left behind. She went after them.

“Barzec, you go back for packs?” she asked.

He smiled at her. “Yes. And the spare clothes. We left in such a hurry … not that I’m sorry. If you hadn’t turned them when you did, we would have lost them for sure. That was quite a trick you did with that horse. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it, but I’m worried about leaving everything back there. All these dead bison are going to draw every meat-eating animal around. I saw wolf tracks while we were waiting, and they looked fresh. Wolves love to chew up leather when they find it. Wolverines will, too, and be nasty about it, but wolves will do it for fun.”

“I can go for packs and clothes on horse,” Ayla said.

“I didn’t think of that! After we’re through, there will be plenty to feed on, but I don’t want to leave anything out that I don’t want them to have.”

“We hid the packs, remember?” Druwez said. “She’ll never find them.”

“That’s true,” Barzec said. “I guess we’ll have to go ourselves.”

“Druwez know where to find?” Ayla asked.

The boy looked at Ayla, and nodded.

Ayla smiled. “You want come on horse with me?”

The boy’s face split in a wide grin. “Can I?”

She looked over at Jondalar, and caught his eye. Then beckoned him to come with the horses. He hurried over.

“I’m going to take Druwez and go get the packs and things they left behind when we started chasing,” Ayla said, speaking Zelandonii. “I’ll let Racer come, too. A good run might settle him down. Horses don’t like dead things. It was hard for Whinney in the beginning, too. You were right about keeping the halter on him, but we ought to start thinking about teaching him to be like Whinney.”

Jondalar smiled. “It’s a good idea, but how do you do it?”

Ayla frowned. “I’m not sure. Whinney does things for me because she wants to, because we’re good friends, but I don’t know about Racer. He likes you, Jondalar. Maybe he would do things for you. I think we both need to try.”

“I’m willing,” he said. “Someday I’d like to be able to ride on his back the way you ride on Whinney.”

“I would like that, too, Jondalar,” she said, remembering, with the warm feeling of love she’d felt even then, how she had once hoped that if the blond man of the Others grew to have feeling for Whinney’s colt, it might encourage him to stay in her valley, with her. That was why she had asked him to name the foal.

Barzec had been waiting while the two strangers spoke in the language he didn’t understand, getting a bit impatient. Finally he said, “Well, if you are going to get them, I’ll go back and help with the bison.”

“Wait a moment. I’ll help Druwez up, and go with you,” Jondalar said.

They both helped him up, and stood watching them go.

Shadows were already getting long by the time they returned, and both hurried to help. Later, as she was washing out long tubes of intestines at the edge of the small river, Ayla recalled skinning and butchering animals with the women of the Clan. Suddenly she realized this was the first time she had ever hunted as an accepted member of a hunting group.

Even when she was young, she had wanted to go with the men, though she knew women were forbidden to hunt. But the men were held in such high esteem for their prowess, and they made it seem so exciting, that she would daydream about herself as a hunter, especially when she wanted to escape from an unpleasant or difficult situation. That was the innocent beginning that led to situations far more difficult
than she ever imagined. After she was allowed to hunt with a sling, though other hunting was still taboo, she had often quietly paid attention when the men were discussing hunting strategy. The men of the Clan did almost nothing but hunt—except discuss hunting, make hunting weapons, and engage in hunting rituals. The Clan women skinned and butchered the animals, prepared the hides for clothing and bedding, preserved and cooked the meat, in addition to making containers, cordage, mats, and various household objects, and gathering vegetable products for food, medicine, and other uses.

Brun’s clan had had almost the same number of people as the Lion Camp, but the hunters had seldom killed more than one or two animals at a time. Consequently, they had to hunt often. At this time of year, the Clan hunters were out almost every day to get as much as they could stored ahead for the coming winter. Since she arrived, this was the first time anyone of the Lion Camp had hunted and though she wondered, no one else seemed worried about it. Ayla paused to look at the men and women skinning and butchering a small herd. With two or three people working together on each animal, the work was accomplished far more quickly than Ayla had thought possible. It made her think about the differences between them and the Clan.

The Mamutoi women hunted; that meant, Ayla thought, there were more hunters. It was true that nine of the hunters were male and only four were female—women with children seldom hunted—but it made a difference. They could hunt more effectively with more hunters, just as they could process and butcher more efficiently with everyone working together. It made sense, but she felt there was more involved, some essential point she was missing, some fundamental meaning to be drawn. The Mamutoi had a different way of thinking, too. They were not so rigid, so bound by rules of what was considered proper, and what had been done before. There was a blurring of roles, the behavior of women and men was not so strictly defined. It seemed to depend more on personal inclination, and what worked best.

Jondalar had told her that among his people no one was forbidden to hunt and, though hunting was important and most people did hunt, at least when they were young, no one was required to hunt. Apparently the Mamutoi had similar customs. He had tried to explain that people might have
other skills and abilities that were equally worthwhile, and used himself as an example. After he had learned to knap the flint, and had developed a reputation for quality workmanship, he could trade his tools and points for anything he needed. It wasn’t necessary for him to hunt at all, unless he wanted to.