The Earth's Children Series 6-Book Bundle

by Jean M. Auel

  Shaped from a single piece of wood, it was about a foot and a half in length and an inch and a half wide, narrowing near the front end. It was held horizontally and had a groove down the center where the spear rested. A simple hook carved into the back of the thrower fit into the notch in the butt of the spear, acting as a backstop and helping to hold the spear in place while it was being thrown, which contributed to the accuracy of the hunting weapon. Near the front of Jondalar’s spear-thrower two soft buckskin loops were attached on either side.

  To use it, the spear was laid on the spear-thrower with its butt up against the backstop hook. The first and second fingers were put through the leather loops at the front of the spear-thrower, which reached a place somewhat back from the center of the much longer spear, at a good balance point, and loosely held the spear in place. But a more important function came into play when the spear was thrown. Holding the front of the thrower securely as the spear was cast caused the back end to raise up, which, like an extension of the arm, added length. The greater length increased leverage and momentum, which in turn increased the power and distance of the flight of the spear.

  Hurling a spear with a spear-thrower was similar to throwing it by hand; the difference was in the results. With it, the long shaft with the sharp point could be propelled more than twice as far as a spear thrown by hand, with many times the force.

  Jondalar’s invention utilized mechanical advantage to transmit and amplify the force of muscle power, but it wasn’t the first implement to use those principles. His people had a tradition of creative invention and had utilized similar ideas in other ways. For example, a sharp piece of flint held in the hand was an effective cutting tool, but attaching a handle to it gave the user an extraordinary increase in force and control. The seemingly simple idea of putting handles on things—knives, axes, adzes, and other carving, cutting, and drilling tools, a longer one on shovels and rakes, and even a form of detachable handle to throw a spear—multiplied their effectiveness many times. It was not just a simple idea, it was an important invention that made work easier and survival more probable.

  Though the ones who had come before them had slowly developed and improved various implements and tools, the people like Jondalar and Ayla were the first to imagine and innovate to such an extravagant degree. Their brains could make abstractions easily. They were capable of conceiving of an idea and planning how to implement it. Beginning with simple objects that utilized advanced principles that were intuitively understood, they drew conclusions and applied them in other circumstances. They did more than invent usable tools, they invented science. And from the same wellspring of creativity, utilizing that same power to abstract, they were the first people to see the world around them in symbolic form, to extract its essence and reproduce it; they originated art.

  When Ayla finished tying down her holder, she remounted. Then, seeing that Jondalar had a spear in readiness, she also placed a spear on her spear-thrower and, holding them easily but carefully, started in the direction Jondalar had indicated. The wild cattle were moving slowly along the river, grazing as they went, and the cow they had singled out was already in a different location, and not so isolated. A bull calf and another cow were now close by. Ayla followed the river, guiding Whinney with knees, thighs, and body movements. As she closed in on their intended prey, she saw the tall man on his horse across the green lea approaching through the opening in the brush. The three aurochs were between them.

  Jondalar raised his arm, which held the spear, hoping Ayla would realize he meant it as a signal to wait. Perhaps he should have gone over the strategy in greater depth before they separated, but it was hard to plan the tactics of a hunt too precisely. So much depended upon the situation they found, and the actions of the prey. The two additional animals that were now grazing near the white-spotted cow added another complication, but there was no need to hurry. The animals did not seem alarmed by their presence, and he wanted to work out a plan before they rushed in.

  Suddenly the cows lifted their heads, and their contented indifference became anxious concern. Jondalar looked beyond the animals and felt a surge of annoyance that approached real anger. Wolf had arrived, and he was moving toward the cattle with his tongue lolling out, managing to look both menacing and playful at the same time. Ayla hadn’t noticed him yet, and Jondalar had to stifle an urge to shout to her and tell her to call him off. But a shout would only startle the cows and probably set them off at a run. Instead, when a wave of his arm caught her eye, he pointed at the wolf with his spear.

  Ayla noticed Wolf then, but she wasn’t sure from Jondalar’s motions what he wanted, and she tried to signal back to him in Clan gestures, asking him to explain. Though he did have a basic understanding of the language of the Clan, Jondalar wasn’t thinking of gestures as language just then and didn’t recognize her signs. He was concentrating on how to salvage a deteriorating situation. The cows had begun lowing, and the calf, sensing fear from them, began bawling. They all looked ready to break away. What had started out to be almost perfect conditions for an easy kill was rapidly becoming a losing effort.

  Before things got worse, Jondalar urged Racer forward, just as the solid-colored cow bolted, running away from the oncoming horse and man, toward the trees and brush. The bawling calf followed her. Ayla waited only long enough to be sure which animal Jondalar was going after, then she, too, galloped after the spotted one. They were converging on the aurochs that was still standing in the pasture, watching them and lowing nervously, when the animal suddenly broke into a run, heading toward the marsh. They raced after it, but as they closed in, the cow suddenly dodged and doubled back, dashing between both horses toward the trees at the opposite end of the meadow.

  Ayla shifted her weight, and Whinney quickly changed direction. The mare was accustomed to quick changes. Ayla had hunted from horseback before, though usually it was for smaller animals that were downed with her sling. Jondalar had more trouble. A guiding rein wasn’t as quick a command as a shift in body weight, and the man and his young stallion had far less experience hunting together, but after some initial hesitation they were soon pounding after the white-spotted aurochs as well.

  The cow was heading at a dead run for the grove of trees and thick brush ahead. If she made it to cover, it would be difficult to follow her through it, and there was a good chance that she could get away. Ayla on Whinney and, behind them, Jondalar riding Racer were gaining on the aurochs, but all grazing animals depended on speed to escape predators, and wild cattle could be nearly as fleet as horses when pressed.

  Jondalar urged Racer on, and the horse responded with an all-out burst of speed. Trying to steady his spear so he could make an attempt to get the fleeing animal, Jondalar pulled up alongside Ayla, then surged ahead, but at a subtle signal from the woman, the mare kept pace. Ayla held her spear ready to hurl as well, but even at a gallop she rode with an easy, effortless grace that was the result of practice, and her initial training of the horse that had been unintentional. She felt that many of her signals to the horse were more an extension of thought than an act of guidance. She had only to think of how and where she wanted the mare to go, and Whinney complied. They had such an intimate understanding of each other, she hardly realized that the subtle movements of her body that accompanied the thought had given a signal to the sensitive and intelligent animal.

  As Ayla was taking aim with her spear, suddenly Wolf was racing alongside the fleeing cow. The aurochs was distracted by the more familiar predator, and it veered to the side, slowing its stride. Wolf leaped at the huge aurochs, and the great spotted cow turned to fend off the four-legged predator with large sharp horns. The wolf fell back, then sprang again and, trying to find any vulnerable place, clamped down on the soft, exposed nose with sharp teeth and strong jaws. The huge cow bellowed, raised her head, lifting Wolf off the ground, and shook him, trying to rid herself of the cause of her pain. Dangling like a limp fur bag, the dazed young canine held on.

  J
ondalar had been quick to see the change of pace, and he was prepared to take advantage of it. He raced toward them at a gallop and hurled his spear with great force from close quarters. The sharp bone point pierced the heaving sides, sliding in deeply between ribs to vital inner organs. Ayla was just behind him and her spear found its mark a moment later, entering at an angle just behind the rib cage on the opposite side, penetrating deep. Wolf hung on to the cow’s nose until she dropped to the ground. With the weight of the large wolf pulling her down, she fell heavily on her side, breaking Jondalar’s spear.

  “But he was a help,” Ayla said. “He did stop the cow before she reached the trees.” The man and woman strained to roll the huge aurochs over to expose its underside, stepping over the thick blood that had pooled below the deep cut Jondalar had made in its throat.

  “If he hadn’t started chasing her when he did, that cow probably wouldn’t have started running until we were almost on top of her. It would have been an easy kill,” Jondalar said. He picked up the shaft of his broken spear, then threw it down again, thinking he might have been able to save it if Wolf hadn’t pulled the cow over on it. It took a lot of work to make a good spear.

  “You can’t be sure of that. That cow was quick to dodge us, and a fast runner, too.”

  “Those cows weren’t bothered by us at all, until Wolf came. I tried to tell you to call him away, but I didn’t want to shout and drive them off.”

  “I didn’t know what you wanted. Why didn’t you tell me in Clan signs? I kept asking you, but you weren’t paying attention,” Ayla said.

  Clan signs? Jondalar thought. It hadn’t occurred to him that she was using Clan language. That would be a good way to signal. Then he shook his head. “I doubt if it would have done any good,” he said. “He probably wouldn’t have stopped even if you had tried to call him.”

  “Maybe not, but I think Wolf could learn to be a help. He already helps me flush small game. Baby learned to hunt with me. He was a good hunting partner. If a cave lion can learn to hunt with people, Wolf could, too,” Ayla said, feeling defensive about him. After all, they had killed the aurochs, and Wolf did help.

  Jondalar thought Ayla’s judgment of the skills a wolf was capable of learning was unrealistic, but there was no point in arguing with her. She treated the animal like a child, as it was, and it would only make her defend him more.

  “Well, we’d better gut this cow before it starts to swell. And we’ll have to skin it out here and divide it into pieces so we can pack it up to the Camp,” Jondalar said, and then another problem occurred to him. “But what are we going to do about that wolf?”

  “What about Wolf?” Ayla asked.

  “If we cut that aurochs into pieces and carry part of it up to the Camp, he’ll be able to eat the meat left here,” the man said, his irritation rising, “and when we come back here to get more, he’ll be able to get to the meat we brought up to the Camp. One of us would have to stay here to watch it, and the other will have to stay there, but then how do we bring anymore back up there? We’re going to have to set up a tent here to dry the meat instead of using the lodge at the Camp, just because of Wolf!” He was exasperated with the problems he perceived the wolf to be causing and was not thinking clearly.

  But he made Ayla angry. Maybe Wolf would go after the meat if she wasn’t there, but he wouldn’t touch it as long as she was with him. She would just make sure Wolf stayed with her. He wasn’t that much of a problem. Why was Jondalar picking on him so much? She started to answer him, then changed her mind and whistled for Whinney. With a smooth bound, she mounted, then turned back to Jondalar. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll get that cow up to the Camp,” she said as she rode away, calling Wolf to her.

  She rode hard back to the earthlodge, jumped down and hurried inside, and came out with a stone axe with a short handle, one Jondalar had made for her. Then she mounted again and urged Whinney toward the birch woods.

  Jondalar watched her ride up and saw her coming back down and go into the woods, wondering what she was planning. He had started the belly cut to remove the intestines and stomach of the cow, but he was having mixed feelings as he worked. He did think he was justified in his concerns about the young wolf, but he was sorry he had brought them up to Ayla. He knew how she felt about the animal. His complaints were not going to change anything, and he had to admit her training had accomplished much more than he would have thought possible.

  When he heard her chopping wood, he suddenly realized what she planned to do, and he headed for the woods, too. He saw Ayla hacking fiercely at a tall, straight birch tree from the center of the grove of closely spaced trees, venting her anger in the process.

  Wolf isn’t as bad as Jondalar says, she was thinking. Maybe he did almost scare off that aurochs, but then he did help. She paused for a moment, resting, and frowned. What if they hadn’t made a kill, wouldn’t that have meant they weren’t welcome? That the spirit of the Mother didn’t want them to stay at the Camp? If Wolf had spoiled their hunting, she wouldn’t be thinking of how to move that cow, they would be leaving. But if they were meant to stay, he couldn’t have spoiled their hunting, could he? She started chopping again. It was getting too complicated. They had killed the spotted cow, even with Wolf’s interference—and his help—so it was all right to use the lodge. Maybe they had been guided to this place, after all, she thought.

  Suddenly Jondalar appeared. He tried to take the axe from her. “Why don’t you look for another tree and let me finish this one,” he said.

  Though not as angry, Ayla resisted his assistance. “I told you I’d get that cow up to the Camp. I can do it without your help.”

  “I know you can, the same way you brought me to your cave in the valley. But with both of us, you’ll have your new poles much faster,” he said, then added, “And yes, I have to admit, you are right. Wolf did help.”

  She stopped in midstroke and looked up at him. His brow revealed his earnest concern, but his expressive blue eyes showed mixed feelings. Though she didn’t understand his misgivings about Wolf, the powerful love he felt for her showed in his eyes, too. She felt drawn to those eyes, to the sheer male magnetism of his closeness, to the fascination that he didn’t fully realize he had or know the strength of, and felt her resistance evaporate.

  “But you’re right, too,” she said, feeling a little contrite. “He did make them run before we were ready, and he might have spoiled the hunt.”

  Jondalar’s frown vanished in a relieved smile. “So we’re both right,” he said. She smiled back, and the next moment they were in each other’s arms, and his mouth found hers. They clung together, relieved that their argument was over, wanting to cancel out the distance that had come between them with physical closeness.

  When they stopped expressing their fervent relief, but still stood with their arms around each other, Ayla said, “I do think Wolf could learn to help us hunt. We just have to teach him.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. But since he’s going to be traveling with us, I think you should teach him as much as he’ll learn. If nothing else, maybe you can train him not to interfere when we’re hunting,” he said.

  “You should help, too, so he’ll mind both of us.”

  “I doubt that he’ll pay attention to me,” he said. Then seeing that she was ready to disagree, he added, “But if you want, I’ll try.” He took the stone axe from her and decided to bring up another idea she had raised. “You said something about using Clan signs when we don’t want to shout. That could be useful.” As Ayla went to look for another tree of the right shape and size, she was smiling.

  Jondalar examined the tree she had been working on to see how much more chopping it would need. It was difficult to cut down a hard tree with a stone axe. The brittle flint of the axe head was made rather thick so that it would not break too easily from the force of the blow, and a strike did not cut in deeply, but instead chipped a little away. The tree looked more as if it had been gnawed than cut. Ayla listened to the rhy
thmic sound of stone hitting wood as she carefully examined the trees in the grove. When she found one that was suitable, she notched the bark then looked for a third.

  When the necessary trees were cut down, they dragged them out to the clearing and, using knives and the axe, stripped the branches, then lined them up on the ground. Ayla judged the size and marked them, and they cut them all to an equal length. While Jondalar removed the internal organs from the aurochs, she walked back to the lodge for ropes and a device she had made of leather straps and thongs knotted and braided together. She brought along one of the torn floor mats as well when she returned, then signaled for Whinney and adjusted the special harness on her.

  Using two of the long poles—the third was only necessary for the tripod she used to keep food out of the reach of prowling scavengers—she attached the narrower ends to the harness she had put on the horse, crossing them over above the withers. The heavier ends dragged on the ground, one on either side of the mare. With ropes, they fastened the grass mat across the more widely spread poles of the travois, near the ground, and attached extra ropes to tie down and hold the aurochs.

  Looking at the size of the huge cow, Ayla began to wonder if perhaps it would be too much even for the strong steppe horse. The man and woman both strained to get the aurochs on the travois. The mat offered only minimal support, but by tying the animal directly to the poles, it did not drag on the ground. After their efforts, Ayla was even more concerned that the load would be too much for Whinney, and she almost changed her mind. Jondalar had already removed the stomach, intestines, and other organs; perhaps they should skin it out right there and cut it into more manageable pieces. She didn’t feel the need to show him that she could bring it to the Camp alone anymore, but since it was already loaded on the travois, she decided to have Whinney give it a try.