In the front of the dugout Lomasi wasn't thinking clearly either. His mind was thinking in a loop. I must catch them. Then I can show them pain. I will take them back to my clan and then they will know pain for the rest of their lives. Who do they think they are to laugh at me, and then float away? I will catch them and they will know pain. Then his thoughts would repeat themselves. He pushed his feeling aside, pain didn't matter, and neither did food. I will catch them. Nothing else matters. We will keep after them. Soon I will have them. Then they will know pain. The loop started again.
The waterlogged dugout continued to flounder along downstream. The islands in the river became more numerous and the trees became taller. The land was flat and the banks of the river were covered in tall grasses. It was hot and there was no wind. The smell of the river mingled with that of rotting vegetation. The only companion to the strange craft was an occasional vulture.
The river’s current seemed to slow as they advanced into the tall trees that grew in the water. Soon the water was flat and still. The silent sentinels stood ominously with their moss-covered arms drooping toward the advancing dugout. The trees not only blocked the sunlight, but they also seemed to cast a warning; this is our domain, intruders are not welcome here.
Lomasi attempted to guide the dugout through the brownish tinted waters. But it was difficult. There was a strange sameness about the bayou. The silent trees, the lack of current, and not being able to see the sun, all contributed to the feeling of being lost. The moss hung almost to the water in places and they had to push it away with their poles. A large spider dropped from its web and raced across the dugout looking for escape. It scrambled onto Morf's arm, and he slapped at and killed it, but not before it sank its venom rich fangs into his forearm. He brushed the smashed body into the water and then splashed the twin punctures with water from the bayou. He was so tired that he didn't notice the change in skin color around the bite, or the start of the swelling.
The dugout continued on until trees and fallen brush surrounded it on all sides except where they had come in. They reversed their course and pushed back through large patches of floating plants, which opened and then closed as they past. Not a sign was visible to indicate how they came to this dreaded place. Lomasi kept searching for some indication of a current. He watched for movement of leaves and twigs in the water, nothing. He looked for some hints under the water, vegetation that grew in a pattern that indicated a current, or some clue to which way to go, still nothing. He found an opening that seemed to be a water trail through the ominous trees and the strange stumps that grew near them. They followed the trail most of the day only to find that it lead to a bayou within a bayou, and still no outlet.
They had to retrace their path in the slowly sinking dugout. The water was soaking the wood of the dugout from the inside and outside. The dugout was slowly and surely becoming water logged. The days of travel on the river had written the death notice for the craft. Soon it would have to be abandoned. They had to get out of this vast swamp before that happened or they would die here. There was no way that they could repair the dugout or build another raft until they escaped this dark place.
Lomasi couldn't see the sun and the more they moved through the bayou, the more everything looked the same. Finally they were exhausted and could go no further. They sat in the silent dugout and hung their heads in exhaustion. The swamp, and no food or rest had sucked them dry. And now, the realization that they were utterly lost. They could go no farther and night was falling. They fell into a stupefied sleep.
A throbbing pain awakened Morf; the spider bite was swollen and discolored. His mind was clouded by pain and exhaustion and he was slow to awake. He felt a soft bump on the dugout and looked down into the water. He was slow to comprehend what he was seeing. It was a poling stick floating next to the dugout. His mind was still working slowly and he looked at the poling stick in his hands. Then he looked back into the water at the other poling stick. Next he looked to where Lomasi sat; he had his poling stick, too. Morf realized as he came fully awake that this was a poling stick and must have come from the other dugout.
He called to Lomasi, "Look what I have found."
Lomasi's head jerked up as he awoke. He turned to see Morf pointing at the floating pole. It took him a few moments for him to realize what it was. Don't just sit there. Bring it into the dugout." A faraway look came in to his eyes, "They are near, and they will know pain soon."
After Morf retrieved the pole he noticed that the dugout was moving with the current. He looked around, it was getting darker, but they were moving out of the Black Bayou.
They drifted and poled until it was almost dark. They were back on the river and when a small island appeared in the gloom, Lomasi directed the dugout to shore. They stumbled in to the brush and collapsed.
A Circle Closes
A relatively short distance away on the same island Na'pe was preparing food and getting ready for the last part of their journey. She would be home and with her clan when the sun was high on the next day.
Last night Dola had found and killed a small turtle; it was the size of a man's head and had a brightly colored shell. Na'pe wanted to present it to her father when she returned. She had cleaned the turtle after separating the shell. She had given the shell to Cano this morning and asked him to look for an anthill. When a shell is left on an anthill, the ants will attack and clean all of the scraps of meat from it in a short time.
Cano had left early to hunt and had taken the shell with him in a grass bag that she had woven. She had made a strap for the bag so that he could carry it over his shoulder and still have his hands free to use his weapons. He was fortunate and had found an anthill near the end of the island. When he left it, small red ants covered it. It was amazing how quickly they came and how many of them there were. The shell soon looked as though it was alive and pulsating.
Soon after leaving the anthill, he heard a noise in the brush. He moved forward as silently as he could and came upon a flock of turkeys feeding. As soon as they saw him they scattered. Some took to the air and others rushed into the brush. One large turkey took to the air, but got caught in some tree branches as he tried to turn and climb at the same time. Before he could struggle free, one of Cano's short spears had found its mark. Cano waited until he was sure the turkey was dead before picking him up. One thing a hunter learns early in his life is never to grab a live turkey.
He prodded it first with a spear, and then he picked him up. He remembered his old clan and the meeting where Bana had told of their turkey hunt. He smiled as he thought about Lork's attempt to get a turkey. It all seemed so long ago. It was a different life. His new life was here and now. But what of Ceola? Was she of the old life only? Would he ever see her again? He missed her. He shook his head to clear it and then moved off to see if the ants were through feeding on the turtle shell.
When he came to the anthill he found they had cleaned the shell and no longer swarmed over it. He used a stick to flip the shell away from the anthill. After checking it carefully to make sure no ants remained, he picked it up and put it is his grass-carrying bag. It didn't feel comfortable; the sharp edges of the shell poked and scraped his side. It was then that he did something that would affect the rest of his life. He took out the shell and turned it over and put it back in the bag. It was much more comfortable with the round part of the shell against hip, and it left room in the bag for the turkey. He shifted the bag so that it rode in front of his stomach, and then headed back to the campsite.
It was a beautiful day, but Cano was apprehensive. The next day they would meet Na'pe's people. They would be happy to have her back, but what of us? They may let us stay, but would we want to? Where can we go and what can we do if we don't stay? He shook his head again. There was no sense in worrying. We will know more tomorrow, then we know today. With this thought he continued to move toward the campsite.
Back up the river on the same island, Morf was the first to awaken. As he started to get
up he felt a searing pain in his arm. It was swollen and discolored; he had difficulty moving his fingers. The spider bite was swollen and was leaking a clear fluid. As sore as his arm was, the pangs of hunger were worse.
The sun was well up and he knew that he had to have something to eat. He blinked his eyes and looked around for something to eat. He noticed a slight smell of smoke. This caused him to come fully awake. He listened quietly, but could only hear the wind rustling the leaves, and the soft stillness of the tall grass.
Lomasi awoke and then looked around. He saw Morf staring at him.
Morf raised his chin slightly and made a sniffing motion toward Lomasi.
Lomasi hesitated a moment and then sniffed the air. He caught the smell of the smoke instantly. Almost always smoke meant people. He reached over and picked up his weapons and rose to his feet. He swayed unsteadily for a moment or two and then winced at the pain in his sore leg. The wound was open and running. It smelled like rotten meat. Ignoring the pain he motioned Morf to follow as he limped into the brush in the direction the smoke was coming from.
They crept through the brush until they were on the outskirts of the camp. They could see all escapees except Cano. Lomasi motioned Morf to stay where he was and remain hidden. Lomasi settled down to study the camp and plan his attack
The wind was blowing toward them and the little wolf was unaware that danger was near at hand.
At this same time Cano was returning to the campsite from the other side of the island. He noticed a tall sprawling tree at the waters edge and decided to have some fun with those in camp. He crept to the base of the tree and carefully climbed it on the side away from camp. When he was high in the branches he climbed out on a limb that was above the water. The only one that noticed him was Whiteface; she sat watching the leader of her pack silently.
Just before Cano was going to announce his presence to those in the camp, the wind shifted. Whiteface picked up the smell of rotting meat, and also a smell she remembered well, enemies of the pack. She sprang to her feet and raised her ruff, a low growl rumbled from her stomach. The sound was much too loud to come from a creature this small, but it did. Dola instantly noticed her looking toward the brush and reached for his throwing stick.
Lomasi had watched Cano climb the tree; he smiled to himself. He had waited for this moment, and now it was here. He rose smoothly, extended one hand for balance, and then he drew his other arm back to cast the spear. In the same motion his fingers released their hold on the spear and let it float upward until the end met the notch in the throwing stick. His arm came forward in a smooth practiced arch and he launched the spear with deadly accuracy. The life-terminating missile flashed upward toward Cano's body.
At the same moment, Cano heard the wolf's growl he had twisted slightly to see what had alarmed her. His movement caused the grass bag with the turkey and the shell to move in front of his body. At this instant the spear pierced the grass bag on its way to Cano's stomach. The spear blasted a bloody spray from the recently killed turkey and then slammed into the turtle shell where it dispersed its remaining energy. The force of the blow knocked Cano from the tree; he tried to seize a passing branch, but missed it. He tumbled through the air and crashed to the river below, landing on his head and shoulder. The deep water quickly covered him as he sank to the river’s bottom.
As Cano hit the water Lomasi burst from the brush with a cry of triumph. As he rushed forward with Morf, he fitted another spear to the throwing stick.
Gennos had turned toward where Cano had fallen and was trying to understand what was happening.’ My brother has just been killed. Death comes quickly and now he is dead,’ he said to himself.
Dola and the little wolf were looking toward the danger. Dola sprang to his feet and raised his spear thrower and prepared to cast his spear.
Lomasi was surprised at how fast the boy had come to his feet. Instead of aiming at Dola he shifted his aim toward Na'pe, who was crouching by the fire. "She dies first if you throw that spear."
Dola looked toward Gennos, but didn't lower his arm. He wasn't sure what to do. He didn't want to be a prisoner again, but he didn't want Na'pe to die. Gennos had returned his eyes from where Cano had fallen to the situation around the fire. His own weapons were out of reach. He quickly surveyed the situation and decided that to fight, was to lose. Lomasi could kill Na'pe and Morf could hit Dola easily. If he fought he would have to fight them both. If Dola was able to hit Lomasi, that would mean he would have to fight Morf without weapons. Gennos knew he would lose. And Na'pe would be dead. He wouldn't risk her death. Even as prisoners they would still be able to try to escape again. Dead was dead. Not many chances after that. With Cano dead he had to protect Na'pe and Dola. He motioned Dola to lower his weapon.
Lomasi remained with his spear thrower at the ready position. "Take their weapons," he said as he motioned Morf ahead.
Na'pe still crouched by the fire. She watched Lomasi as she hid a cutting stone in her breechcloth.
Morf moved to Dola and snatched his throwing stick and cast it into the fire. He then grabbed Dola's spear and jerked it away. He struck Dola with his spear thrower and then beat him to the ground. Dola lay in the dirt looking up at Morf; blood ran from a small cut above the boy’s eye.
"You are both big and brave aren't you" asked Gennos. "Have you ever fought someone your own size, without weapons?"
Lomasi didn't say a word at first. Then he said, "I see that you have learned to speak since we last met." He cast a vengeful look at Na'pe. "Yes, we are big and mean, and you will learn it many times over in the time that follows this day. When I am through with you, it will be you that asks me to stop." As he spoke he was limping toward Gennos. When he got to him, he raised his spear as if to strike with it, then he kicked Gennos's weak leg.
Gennos fell to the ground and rolled to the side as Lomasi tried to kick him in the face. He reached out and grabbed Lomasi's foot and twisted it. This caused Lomasi to shift his balance to his bad leg and he fell heavily. Gennos scrambled over and drove his fist into Lomasi face. It was a stinging blow and Lomasi saw flashes of light. Gennos gripped his throat before he could recover and drove his fist into the hated face again. He got both hands on Lomasi's throat and started squeezing. Lomasi started to gasp and his eyes rolled back in his head. From far away Gennos heard a cry and then another. Without releasing the pressure on Lomasi he looked up. Morf held a spear point against Na'pe's throat. "Stop now or she is dead." He had a hand full of her hair and he pressed the point into her neck and blood started to trickle from the wound.
Na'pe screamed, "Kill him! It will be worth dying to see him dead!"
Gennos gave Lomasi's throat one last squeeze before pushing him away. Lomasi lay gasping for breath for a few moments before crawling painfully over to where Morf held Na'pe captive. He took the spear Morf had and held it to her eyes. "Go and tie both of them up," he said to Morf.
No one had noticed that the small wolf had drifted into the brush without being seen.
Morf quickly tied the two to separate saplings in a none too gentle manner. Then he turned to Na'pe. "What about her?"
Lomasi smiled, "After she feeds us and we rest I have plans for her. I wanted to save her for when we get back to the clan. That has changed. I have been altogether too gentle with her. She needs to learn certain things, and I am the one to teach her. When I am finished with her you can see if you can teach her anything." He paused and then said, "Now take your spear and guard the men. If they give you any trouble kill them."
Lomasi grabbed Na'pe's shoulder and squeezed it painfully. "Now, woman, get us food."
She twisted away and walked slowly to the edge of the clearing and knelt down to get more fuel for the fire. Her mind was racing, what should she do? She was a prisoner again. She looked over her shoulder at her captors. They weren't paying any attention to her. She could escape into the brush and be gone before they could find her. They were tired and hungry and if they did try to follow, only one
would come after her. She was closer to home then she had been for a long time. But as quickly as these ideas flashed across her mind, she rejected them. Her fellow captives had come back for her, and she wouldn't desert them now that they needed help. She had no doubts about what was in store for her if Lomasi proceeded with his "Training". It would be bad, but she wouldn't be dead. As she knelt she noticed some plants growing in front of her. Her father had spoken of these plants before. They were as tall as she was and had long pointed leaves. She discarded the firewood she had planned to take to the fire. Instead she picked the long fingered leaves and the buds from the top of the tree and carried them back to the fire. She cast the leaves into the fire where they began to smoke heavily. She took a few large chunks of turtle meat and ground the buds into the meat. Then she took some of the leaves and twisted them together and let the juice from the leaves drip onto the meat; it was dry and absorbed the juice quickly. Then she laid the meat on the smoking leaves for a few moments.
Lomasi had been sitting to the side and not paying attention to her, as he worked on his injured leg. "Food and water, I want it now."
She picked up a piece of the hot meat on a stick and handed it to him. She picked up the other piece and carried it over to where Morf sat watching the prisoners. He snatched the meat from her and sank his teeth into it.
The Thinking Rocks Page 30