The
Thinking Rocks
By C. Allan Butkus
Text Copyright © 2006
C. Allan Butkus
All rights Reserved
Table of Contents
Prologue
The Cat
Cano
Clan of the Spear
The Birds
Ceola
Rite of Passage
Lessons by Firelight
The Cat
The Meeting
Saber-Tooth
She Wolf
A Strange Yield
A Small Cargo
Bad News
Man Meets Saber-tooth
Plans
The Trek
The Search for Dola
The River
By the Campfire
A Strange Sighting
Enemy campground
A False False Trail
A Dark Place to Hide
Back at the river
Back at the river
The Dark Place
Searching for Light
Contact
Two dugouts
Marks in the sand
Pursuit
Turtles and Birds
On Dark Waters
Black Bayou
Hindered Passage
A Circle Closes
Prologue
It was so long ago that time had no name. The skies had issued a proclamation and it was rain. The clouds of creation had formed and they added their essence to the starkness below. Huge oceans formed, and still it rained. The rains continued for tens of thousands of years. Nature was present, but unknown and unnamed. Creation was a concept that had yet to be defined. What was tangible was the rain and the seas.
The rain was not pure nor was it simple. It was a blend of things that were almost too small to conceive, but they were realized. Motion was their Father, and Matter was their Mother. Their spawn drifted, sifted and combined. In a process that appeared random, there was order, and things started to happen. Things that were almost nothing combined with themselves in the seas to form something more. At a point, their numbers increased to such a level that they could no longer stay suspended in Nature's strange cauldron. They sank to the bottom of the seas, but not before casting their sirens' call to the others of their kind to join them. In hundreds of millions of years, they would have a name, sediment. And yet another name which told more of its nature, Limestone.
Another concept was created at this point in time, a concept that would try to overshadow all others. Life. This new creation had a humble origin but it also had an inborn persistence to endure. These small things, early creatures, lived and died. Their essence was pressed into the limestone concoction as the sediment hardened. Life was being recorded in limestone. A cipher was created which was a testament in stone. The path Nature was taking was being documented for the future. There would not be anyone or anything that could appreciate these wonders for hundreds of millions of years. The testimony continued to be recorded chapter after chapter, level after level, as Nature continued the lessons.
Events were repeated with minor variations until a new element was added to the caldron. Pressure, which caused compression, and rock was formed; huge sheets formed that covered the sea's bed. Nature continued the lessons. For time beyond reason, this persisted until a pattern was forming and a change was ordered. The rains slowed, the Sun came out, and the waters started to recede.
Deep within the center of the earth, the heat was beyond conception. The constantly increasing pressure on the crust sharply contrasted with the power within the earth. Something had to give. About six hundred million years ago, the pressure became too great to contain. Power of a colossal magnitude forced the earth's crust to crack and be forced up. Mountains were formed; they were without a name because man's time had not yet come. In hundreds of millions of years, man would label Nature's creation as the Ozark Mountains. Over the years, Nature smoothed, cut, filled and leveled these mountains. Our story begins with a small outcrop of limestone in the southern section of the Ozarks, in what is now northern Arkansas, about thirteen thousand years ago at the Thinking Rocks.
The Cat
She moved silently through the brush until she reached a huge flat-topped rock on the rim of the valley. The valley stretched out below the rock in a panorama of green and brown. Floating through the shadows cast by the trees around the rock, she stopped and scanned the land before her. This was near the place. His call had come from this valley. Ordinarily she would not have been interested in another of her kind, but the stirring deep within her was not to be ignored. A gentle breeze was blowing past her and down into the valley. Her scent and her special musk would drift down and he would pick it up. It would bring him. Other animals in the valley would also know by her scent that she was near, but they would move away to safety. As if by a self-fulfilling prophecy, she watched, as there was a flicker of movement and then three deer moved out of a thicket and swiftly away from danger. A growl started deep within her and rumbled its way to her throat where it slowly died. In the distance, his cough came to her sensitive ears. The rock in front of her was about eight feet high, and without effort, she leapt to its top, fully exposed she was frightfully beautiful. Her coat was a tawny brown, which faded to white on her stomach. Drawing in a deep breath, she released a roar that had been echoing across continents and through forests for 40 million years. It proclaimed, I am here… This is my land. Any creature traveling in my land is courting death.
Cano
Cano moved calmly through the heavy brush near the clearing. He kept his movements slow and precise and his eyes narrowed. It was hot, and there was no wind; the tall trees were still as was the thick underbrush. Raising his head slowly, he scanned the treetops and the sky and then tested the wind for strange scents. Unable to detect any signs of danger, he moved down the gentle slope toward a small stream that bordered the clearing. An outcrop of rocks was huddled under a stand of tall cedar trees just above the water. He approached the rocks like a shadow. No sound heralded his coming and he knew the danger that could lurk on the rocks, or in them. A movement caught his eye. A large green lizard had scurried across the top of the flat rocks and then stopped. Cano waited, a faint strange flat, musky smell came to him. Snake. He could not see it or hear it, but he knew it was close. Something made a slight sound and then a triangular shaped head appeared over the edge of the rock behind the lizard. Cano was as motionless as a tree trunk. The snake struck with lightning like speed, hitting the lizard in the middle of the back. It drew its head back and watched its prey with unblinking eyes. The lizard twisted and flopped. It tried to crawl away, but its rear legs would not push it along. It crawled forward for a short distance using its front legs, a shudder passed through its body and it became still. The snake tasted the air with its tongue before moving toward the lizard. It came out of the rocks like the thing it was, gray death. It was as long as Cano was tall, with a body as thick as his fist. The smell was stronger now. Cano admired the way the snake moved and the power it had. It was quick death, powerful and quiet. Involuntarily, it sent a chill down his back. The slight shudder caught the snake's attention, and it turned its head in Cano's direction and flicked its forked tongue in and out, tasting the air.
He knew that if he did not move, the snake could not see him; at least that was what he had been told. The problem was that being told something while sitting around a campfire and believing it was quite different from being able to really believe it when it happened. Next time, Cano vowed, I will practice with little snakes that can't kill with their teeth. Cano remained as still as the rocks the snake lay upon.
The lizard gave a final twitch, which caught the snake’s at
tention again, and it glided over and then paused, then struck the lizard again. Two holes appeared where the snake's fangs penetrated the body. There was no movement from the lizard after this last attack. The snake crawled over the body as if inspecting the kill, after which it started to swallow the lizard headfirst.
Cano waited until the snake had the lizard almost half swallowed before he struck. He took two steps forward and drove his stone tipped spear into the neck of the snake just behind the head. He leaned on the shaft and drove the point through the leathery skin, smashing the backbone and driving deeply into the body of the lizard. The snake went into withering spasms of pain, it twisted and whipped around trying to get at its attacker but it was hampered be the lizard in its mouth. Its tail struck a mighty blow to Cano's leg and he instinctively jumped away, causing his spear to pull out of the snake. He scrambled away from the thrashing snake just as the lizard was dislodged from the snake's jaw. The snake tried to move to a coil position. Something was wrong. The snake was not the same, it seemed to be broken, the head flopped around and the body started to spasm and curl upon its self. Cano waved his spear in the snake’s direction, but the snake ignored the spear and continued to twist and crawl. He moved forward and poked the snake in the side with the spear. It continued to try to get away. Cano, in an effort to finish the snake off, found a large rock and smashed it down on the snake’s head. He heard the bones splinter as the stone crushed the head to a pulp. The snake's body squirmed and twisted as it died.
Cano cautiously approached the snake with poised spear. The snake did not move. He drove his spear down into the area behind the head repeatedly until the head was severed. He could relax now, the part of the snake, which killed, was gone. When he returned to camp, he would have a story to tell at the fire tonight. He could show them that he was a man. He was brave to have faced death from a snake and return to the fire with it as food for the clan. He would have one of the women of the clan tan the skin of the snake and he would wear it to show his courage. Cano, the snake killer. He would ask Ceola to tan the skin for him. Ceola was beautiful, with the soft brown eyes and the budding body of a young woman. She was his choice for a mate. She was not ready. She still had to undergo her passage from child to woman. Cano smiled, their time would come.
He climbed over the rocks and walked down to the stream. After cleaning his spear in the water and taking a drink, he felt good and powerful. He was a force to be reckoned with, a man.
He climbed back up the slope to the rocks and stopped when his chest was level with the rock were the snake lay. It was as he had left it. He reached up and grabbed it by the tail to lift it. Like a flash of light the snake struck Cano in the chest below his neck. The force of the strike and the surprise of it sent Cano over backward and down the hill into the stream. He grabbed his throat and scrambled out of the water looking for the snake. It was nowhere in sight and his spear was still by the rocks where he dropped it. He took his hand away from his throat which was covered in blood. No one survived a bite like this from a snake this large. He thought, ‘I will die now.’ The shock and realization of his impending death stunned him. I am too young to die. No story at the campfire tonight for me, soon the poison will kill me. He sat down and quietly waited for the end.
As he sat there waiting to die, he noticed that his elbow was starting to hurt and that he was hungry. Death was not at all like what he expected. He remembered what one of the hunters had said at a campfire one night. The dead animals can kill you. A hunter takes care around live animals, but when they are dead what is the fear? That is when they get you. Check them after the killing, check them again, and then once more. He looked down at his wound as he tried to wipe away the blood. The blood wiped away. The skin was not broken; there were no puncture marks from the snake’s fangs. The realization that he had not been bitten slowly dawned on him. Of course not. The snake had no head; he had been hit by the bloody nub where the head of the snake should have been. He sat there thinking, trying to make sense of what had happened. Then it all began to make sense. The spirit of the snake was teaching him a lesson in respect. There was powerful Mana here. The spirit of the snake had sent a message: even in death, respect the life you have taken. Your life can be taken as easily as the one you took. Honor the dead, for one day you will be one of them. Cano sat quietly thinking about this, then with a nod he stood. It seemed to fit, it was right that this is the way things worked. He climbed the slope and retrieved his spear. Gently placing the spearhead near the bloody end of the snake, he thanked the spirit of the snake for its life, and for the lesson.
Cano's whole life had been spent in the woods, but not these woods. The People of the Spear, his people had been moving for season after season following game. The farther they had come the more game they found. It became warmer too. He could barely remember the times when he was small and the ground had been covered with cold whiteness.
The terrain here was rough, the hills were covered with loose rocks of all sizes and the tall trees had thick underbrush. There were open areas in the lowlands between the hills were the grass eaters gathered. The hunting was excellent; it was a good place to get food. It was also the place for caution, for this was also a place of death. The caution Cano felt was a way of life. Caution and survival went hand in hand. When you are the one with power, you can be brave. Death can come from many places and death was a true thing. Some lived by causing death; others lived by avoiding death for as long as possible. All things finally died, but some much sooner than others. The big survived the longest because they were strong, and the small feared the big.
All creatures had abilities, some more useful than others. The snake, his speed and poison. The sloth was big but sluggish; it had a single claw on each front foot and lived high in the trees where it was safe. The bison was hump backed and was a grass eater. It lived in the lowlands in herds and had sharp horns and hoofs to protect its kind.
Cano knew his physical abilities as a man were limited, however he had other abilities, and he learned and remembered. His physical weapons were his stone-tipped spear and hand ax. He may not be as big or fast as the saber toothed cat, but he could kill too. His strength did not compare to that of the mammoths with their tusks and long noses. But these creatures lived mostly by instinct. Although he also had instincts, he also was able to think of the possibilities of different things. He could plan. His awareness was different than that of other creatures. And he used tools.
His thoughts returned to the present. It was time to return to the clan. He nudged the snake's body with his spear, it moved, but very slowly. The spirit of life was leaving the snake. Carefully picking up the snake, he carried it down to the streambed. Slowly he lowered it into the water and splashed water on the bloody nub. Next he rubbed the skin with some of the sand from the streambed; this would remove some of the snake’s scent and the smell of blood. The washing completed, he picked some leaves from a nearby plant and wrapped them around the bloody end of the snake to stop the dripping of blood on the way back to the camp. There was no reason to invite an attack.
He thought of bringing the lizard the snake had killed, but he rejected the idea. The spirit of death from the snake was in it. Looping the snake over his shoulders, he retrieved his weapons and started back with his prize.
Clan of the Spear
Cano scanned the forest slowly looking for anything out of the normal. Nothing on the ground, no unnatural movement in the trees, but there was a dark flash above the trees. A large bird circled above the rocks where the snake had died. How could they find where death had been so quickly? They had eyes that could see the dead or the dying from great distances, but how could they know that a death had happened here such a short time ago? A second ghost had joined the first, more were sure to follow. It was best to be on the move. Silently, he moved off, knowing if he stayed here, he would not be alone long. There would be other eyes that would see the growing number of birds circling the trees above the rocks. The small s
cavengers would be the first, but the bigger ones would come to take the kill away from the small. They would not get much this time though. One of the birds swooped low for a look at Cano, but after determining that he was not wounded or dying it returned to circle over the trees where the dead lizard and the snake's head remained. As Cano walked through the woods he thought about the large birds called buzzards, the ones that flew high in the sky, and the other big birds, turkeys, that could fly, but never flew as high as the tree tops. The turkeys were bigger and better to eat than the high fliers. The buzzards were a last choice for food. Both of them have remarkable eyesight. He had once been trying to creep up on one of them that had been feeding. It was as far away as he could throw a stone. He was in a thicket that was dense with leaves and small branches and he was not moving. The bird would stop feeding at short intervals to scan the woods for danger. As the bird looked in his direction he blinked, and the bird saw it and flew away. Twice after that, he had tried to sneak up on the birds and had scared them both times by blinking his eyes, as they looked his way. They must have seen his eyes blink as a sign of danger. Once when he was watching buzzards circling a dying wolf, he had seen one swoop low and cast its shadow over the wolf’s head. He could not be sure, but he thought that it was trying to see if the wolf was dead or playing dead. If the wolf was really dead, its eyes would not move as the shadow of the bird past over the wolf’s eye, but if it was alive, the eye would move even if the eye didn’t open. The bird climbed swiftly and landed in a tall tree. It repeated the flight again before it finally landed and began to feed. The other birds that had been circling were soon at its side fighting for a share.
Cano was close now to his camp. He could smell the smoke from the fire, but he still could not hear any noises or see any of his clan. The site was a good one, for it was near water and there was plenty of wood for fires. The water here was good water. It was clear and moving swiftly and held many fish. The banks of the stream were covered with small rocks and the water did not have a sharp drop off. There was little danger from the water. Most of the snakes avoided swift water. It was a safe place for the children to play, while the men and women of the clan worked and hunted. The gators with their mouth full of teeth liked the slow or still waters. This was where they could float up close to the shore with only their eyes and tip of their nose showing. They looked like a log, but they were death. Cano saw movements ahead of him on the right side in a small thicket. It was a small boy with an equally small spear. Cano pretended that he had not seen anything out of the ordinary and kept moving toward the camp.
The Thinking Rocks Page 1