Xhosa swallowed the pain bark and then kicked a sleeping Pan-do as last night’s scouts thundered into camp, breathless, sweat pouring from their bodies despite the cool morning.
"One and another and another..." The ticks against her fingers matched the expected number and she breathed out.
Snake stood by Nightshade, still wearing a leaf poultice from his skirmish with Sa-mo-ke, listening to the report of the Lead Scout.
"Big Heads are on our borders..." He wheezed, gulping, and continued, “A day, maybe two…” He collapsed to his knees, crushing a hand-sized spider, face red.
The scouts began to talk over each other, hands flying, bodies bobbing, until Nightshade bellowed, “Quiet!” He motioned to Rainbow, the adult tasked as the Second on this outing. “What did you find?”
Rainbow’s ready smile, liquid eyes, and flashing white teeth got him much attention from the females but not the males. They responded to prowess and Rainbow was weak, whiney, and indecisive, one who delegated duties rather than do them himself. Nightshade tolerated him because he was disposable.
Rainbow saw a chance to shine. "They amass a huge force in our territory.”
Rainbow spread his arms, warming to his listeners. “But as Lead Warrior Nightshade asked, I have found us a new home, away from this danger. It is far from here, rich with herds, awash in grass, and with no trace of Big Heads.”
As he talked, Lyta’s nose twitched in disgust. "Can he not smell that where he wants us to go takes us right into the Big Heads’ camp?"
Nightshade paced. "Where you speak of, Rainbow, we were there when Xhosa's father lived—”
Rainbow interrupted, “It is replenished, Nightshade. Grass abounds. Mammoth and gazelle are heavy with young."
Nightshade glowered but the subadults who had scouted with Rainbow eagerly bobbed their heads. “Take your scouts, Rainbow. Watch the Big Heads. Tell me if anything changes. We leave tomorrow’s tomorrow."
Surely he didn’t consider Rainbow’s suggestion. When she caught Nightshade’s eye, she smiled to herself.
Nightshade motioned to Pan-do, "Come with me!"
Without waiting for agreement, he left.
Xhosa licked her lips. Two days! That was barely enough time to replenish her healing plants. Cousin Chimp scolded her as she ran from the camp. Birds took up the protest in harsh chatter. A fat, old, near-sighted pig crossed her trail and froze when it picked up her scent. A hard-thrown clod of dirt hurried it out of her way.
A hand of Sun’s travel overhead, while digging out the root ball of a deep-rooted plant, hoping to prevent damage to the nodules, the animals fell silent. Xhosa froze, her senses alive. Beneath her, she felt the rumble of steps. One Upright, maybe two, close by, and then a bush rustled. She peeked over the grass and gulped down a gasp.
It was a Big Head warrior.
He smelled her, head rotating, a tightly-gripped warclub in one hand and a stone-tipped spear in the other. Xhosa crawled backward but her foot hit a ground-nesting bird. It screamed and launched. The Big Head snapped his head up to the bird while the other pivoted her direction.
It was Wind.
Chapter 16
Pan-do pretended surprise when Nightshade invited—ordered—they hunt together. Last night, Lyta heard the Lead Warrior argue with Xhosa.
“I don't trust Pan-do.”
“I can take care of myself, Nightshade.”
“I will make sure of that.”
Hunting with Nightshade gave Pan-do the opportunity he’d missed last night.
The acrid tang of sulfur made Pan-do sneeze. "Is it always like this?"
Pan-do rubbed his nose. The dark clouds of dust and cinder from Fire Mountain drifted over everything. If he was to stay here, he must get used to it.
Nightshade ignored him.
As always, the Lead Warrior carried his warclub, a thick weapon as long as his forearm, wide at the top and tapered to a narrow knob where he could hold it. They avoided animal trails as they scrabbled among prickled bushes and over a rock bed, trusting the hard land to conceal their tracks from any Big Head scouts. They crossed a sequence of rolling hills, skirted a herd of gazelle, and dodged a family of pigs snooting for food. Nightshade moved quickly, not waiting for Pan-do, never checking that he followed, seeming not to care. Pan-do though, hardened by moons of travel, easily kept pace. In fact, he slowed down so he wouldn’t pass Nightshade.
After ascending a steep incline, dodging massive boulders lodged in craters, and leaping over gaping cracks that cleaved the land, they arrived at a vast plateau far from homebase.
“Show me your tools,” Nightshade ordered. Pan-do did as asked. The Lead Warrior pawed through them, picking out a sharp cutter sized to Pan-do’s hand. “Sa-mo-ke has one like this?”
“Of course. All my warriors carry these.”
"Where's the hand axe?" At Pan-do’s quizzical look, Nightshade handed him a flat cobble from his own neck sack, longer than a hand with both surfaces flaked to a sharp edge. It took Pan-do a moment before he recognized his people’s version.
"Here. Ours flange in the middle and narrow at the ends. Watch," and he deftly swung it in a looping motion using both ends to pulverize a root faster than Nightshade's tool.
"Hmmph."
After a moment, Nightshade snatched Pan-do’s spear, not without a grimace from Pan-do. He lost it once in a flash flood, finally discovering it high in the branches of a tree. Spears took many days to shape, perfected to the individual hunter, and finding wood hard enough took time.
Nightshade stabbed it into the hard earth. Pan-do cringed but remained silent. He would resharpen it.
“This might suit your tree-thick homeland where prey is close but not the grasslands.”
It was time to stand up to this warrior. “Let’s see who can throw further.”
Pan-do gripped his spear where long experience told him it balanced perfectly, stretched his weak arm forward as though pointing, and flung. It flew like a bird, finally settling into the undulating grass.
Nightshade’s expression betrayed his surprise. He lifted his spear above his shoulder and level with his ear, fidgeted briefly for the balance point, spread his feet beneath his body, and hurled with a stutter step to add force.
He grunted in satisfaction but Pan-do knew that wouldn’t last. When Nightshade found his own spear, he frowned.
“I missed yours.”
“No, not yet.” Pan-do proceeded one stride, another, and another, until he bent and picked up his spear.
Nightshade gasped. “How did you do that? With that distance, you can hit a monkey in a tree.”
Pan-do grinned. “And I do.”
Nightshade harrumphed and left, Pan-do scrambling after him. They crossed sign of grouse, hare, and a pig but Nightshade continued. The warrior sniffed what could be gazelle tracks, fingered them, and moved on. Pan-do required no test to know they were too old but kept silent. Nightshade probably considered this training. The next prints that caught Nightshade's attention were topped by deep pinpricks, one for each of Pan-do’s fingers.
“Wolf. He’s outside his territory. “
Pan-do sniffed. “There’s no urine or excrement to warn other’s away,” which meant he hunted alone. “If he downed an animal, we can steal it,” but the tracks meandered off. Whatever he trailed escaped.
Each sign, Nightshade appraised and rejected until Pan-do motioned, "Are we looking for a particular animal?" He got no answer.
Sun moved a hand and another overhead before they rested at a waterhole. A small herd of Hipparion drank alongside a black rhino and a Sabertooth cat. On the shore, a Chalicothere browsed the top sprouts of an acacia. Nightshade motioned Pan-do to a second trail that led to the water. They would wait until a weak animal left and then one of them would drive it to the other for the kill.
As a Hipparion herd wandered off, thirst quenched, one female limped after them, favoring her rear leg. Before long, she fell far behind.
Nightshade m
otioned, “We move between her and the herd.”
Coyote hunted this way as did Cat and her cousins, but Hipparion’s hooves would be fast and deadly, despite its injury.
Pan-do motioned, "Rather than confronting Hipparion where it is strongest, I’ll go above it, to that bluff—"
"It’s upwind." Nightshade motioned.
"When I cover my body with Hipparion dung, it will think I am from its herd.”
“No one can throw that far, from that bluff.” Nightshade based his comment on the distance Pan-do threw a spear in their contest but Pan-do wouldn’t be using a spear.
“I’ll use a rock.”
Nightshade huffed. "From there, you are skylined where anyone can see you. That compromises us. You must kneel.” His hand movements became stiff and angry. He clearly objected to questions.
“Of course,” Pan-do might have spit this out. Any subadult knew this.
Nightshade almost sputtered as rage colored his face. “Go, Warrior. When you fail, never question me again."
“I am not questioning you, Lead Warrior. I am suggesting. If my method works, it will be safer for both of us. If it doesn’t, you kill Hipparion.”
Ignoring any response, Pan-do picked up several palm-sized stones and showed them to Nightshade. “These focus power on one vulnerable body part like the head, the eye, or under the ear. And unlike a spear, the supply is limitless. I've felled many animals this way.”
He clambered up the bluff after coating his body in Hipparion dung and then signaled to Nightshade. The Lead Warrior’s projectile missed by a body length—as Pan-do expected. The Hipparion snorted and kicked, jinking away from Nightshade and toward Pan-do. When the animal got close, he hurled a missile, hitting the animal mid-forehead. It froze for a breath and then crumpled. Pan-do flew down the steep hill, chopper in hand, intent on killing the stunned animal before it recovered. By the time he got there, Nightshade had already sliced its throat.
They disemboweled the carcass, sheered away the haunches and ribs, and shared the rich blood. As they trotted home, heavily burdened with meat, Nightshade opened up, sharing his closeness to Xhosa, her mastery as Leader, and the problems they had with Big Heads.
After that, both fell into a comfortable silence, scanning the area, searching for dangerous smells and out-of-place colors. Pan-do snatched a hare and eggs from the nest of a ground-dwelling finch, filling his neck sack. It bounced heavily against his chest. One egg broke and dribbled yoke down his chest.
Chapter 17
When Pan-do and Nightshade trotted into camp, Nightshade hefted the Hipparion carcass high to the celebration of his warriors. Pan-do said nothing when Nightshade took credit for the kill. He simply added the hare and the bird eggs to the meal. It was more important to get along than claim credit.
He realized he hadn’t questioned Nightshade about the conversation he’d overheard. That was probably for the best. Better to bring it up first to Xhosa.
Lyta hobbled to him. “Xhosa is still gone.”
“Gathering her healing plants?” He scanned the group but no Xhosa. “Sa-mo-ke! Come!” and he raced away, Nightshade a step behind. Before they’d gone far, Xhosa appeared, running at a ground-eating pace.
“Big Heads are here. We must go tomorrow when Sun awakes.”
Nightshade took her arm. “Tell me what happened.”
She explained where they were and what happened. “When I tried to sneak away, Wind heard me but blocked sight of me from his brother.”
Nightshade stared, stunned. “ He saved your life?”
“Yes, and there’s more. Thunder told Wind the warriors would meet here in a day. Wind was furious he hadn’t been informed but Thunder called him too weak to trust.”
“How did you get away?”
“I waited until they left.”
Nightshade sent a scouting party to the field where Xhosa ran into Thunder and Wind while Pan-do and Xhosa informed their People the departure would now be when Sun awoke.
That night, Lyta slept but Pan-do couldn’t. He ended up again with Xhosa. She made room for him on her favorite boulder and then fixed her intense eyes on him, either waiting for him to speak or building her own courage to say something difficult. He twitched uncomfortably as her fingers tugged a strand of hair that fell over her breast, running it through her fingers over and over,
Finally, she turned away, gaze fixed on the dark night. “I’m glad you are with us, Pan-do. Your warriors, Sa-mo-ke and the rest, have become skilled defenders. But I sense a problem.”
He couldn’t hide his relief and let the confession tumble out. “This is not where our new homeland should be. If not for the Big Head threat, we would leave.”
“I have felt the same about this area. Big Heads or not, we would leave.”
“Why?”
“You told me that where you lived, your waterholes shrank from one wet time to the next and that the herds birthed fewer babies. This area too changes and has for a long time. My father, before he died, provided the People with a plan.
“When I was young, he left, taking with him his best warriors, promising to return with good news. He was gone this many Moons,” and she ticked fingers off on her hand, “before next I saw him.
“He told how he and his warriors shadowed the Rift, traveling inhospitable land that required full neck sacks. It finally narrowed at a land bridge. Once across, Others attacked. My father and his warriors escaped across a river and continued until they came to another river. On its opposite side, the land was lush, rich, and green. He called it our new homeland. As he returned on his backtrail to the People, he placed cairns. He told me that if necessary, I need only follow them.”
“It is a good plan.” From Nightshade. Though he approached from behind, his appearance startled neither for his scent preceded him.
He continued, "Pan-do did well today. The distance he covers with the spear, his ability to throw while kneeling—he can teach my warriors much.”
“As you did mine,” Pan-do responded.
Out of nowhere, Lyta appeared. "Come, father. I must show you," and she dragged Pan-do to a swampy alcove beneath a ledge. "Flowers. One, another, another,” in fact, a bed of brightly colored blooms.
Nothing made her happier than the patterns created by petals. She forced a handful at him and stuffed more into her neck sack. Pan-do allowed it, knowing it would do no good to resist. He preferred flowers to the red-and-yellow snake she brought to him once. It took all his patience to explain how some patterns must be avoided. Despite her assurances that the snake wouldn’t hurt her, Pan-do insisted it must be returned to its home.
“Give these flowers to Xhosa,” and Lyta flitted to her ground nest.
With her safe, he left to patrol the homebase’s perimeter for the last time. Somewhere along the way, he dropped the flowers.
Hushed shuffles interrupted his walk. Pan-do stopped, ears pricked, searching for the source of the noise. So absorbed was he that he almost missed Xhosa. The swish of her hair in the night breeze was all that gave her away.
Why does she leave camp alone?
He traipsed after her.
Quietly, invisibly, she climbed to what appeared to be a familiar plateau. Here, Moon’s brightness revealed her pain. Pan-do blinked, shocked. Did the Big Heads injure her? Strangely, in her hand were Lyta’s flowers. He stared at his empty hand, aghast, but wondered why Xhosa picked them up.
Xhosa sniffed, licked the petals, and to his surprise, swallowed them and then closed her eyes, extinguishing their lively sparkle. There she sat, motionless, the only hint of wakefulness the occasional movement of her hands. No animal—only Others—could sit so long without falling asleep. He did this too.
Darkness helps her strategize.
Finally, the deep lines etched across her face smoothed, her shoulders relaxed, and her fists unclenched. She rolled Lyta’s flowers in her fingers and then stuffed what remained into her neck sack. Rather than leave, she picked a rock from a pile an
d chucked it with her weak hand, the movement stiff, without the fluidity of mastery. That didn’t stop her throwing over and over until her weak hand became as effective as her strong.
When he settled to sleep by Lyta, he came to an unwanted decision: Not only did his daughter consider Nightshade 'bad' but that spot deep in his own body that warned of a threat burned like a brushfire. He must stay. He couldn’t abandon Xhosa to the Big Heads.
Or Nightshade.
Xhosa selected a stone from those piled on the ground, planted one foot, and released the missile with a snap of the wrist.
It missed the entire tree.
“Again,” and set up the next stone. It whooshed, landing closer to the tree. What did her father say? Look at the target before and after you throw. Another rock, this one nicked the bark. By the time the projectiles ran out, they dependably hit where aimed.
She rested and wondered what appealed so about Pan-do. He couldn't protect his People as Nightshade did but somehow commanded respect from his People. When her father led, it was like that. In those days, she would listen to the insects chirp, watch the night sky brighten and dim, hear the wind blow the leaves, and feel its soft caress. Was there no longer time for that? Would it always be about death? Big Heads killed for no reason. All other life, be it plants, animals, birds, or insects, killed to survive.
Coyote's baleful cry floated on the evening breeze. She too wanted to cry. The idea of leaving this place—her father’s home—upset every part of her.
Her head rumbled, the pain tolerable thanks to the flowers. Where did they come from? She dismissed the question, gazing up into the night sky. Time remained to practice before Sun awoke.
Chapter 18
Nightshade shook her. Sun glowed softly, not yet awake. It was early.
“The scouting party is back!”
A panicked voice drowned out whatever came next. "Big Heads!" Nightshade and Xhosa sprinted toward it. The scout bent over, mouth open as he sucked in air.
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