The Long Journey Home (Across The Lake Book 2)

by Doug Kelly

  Hauk had watched with amazement at Aton’s ability to conjure a flame without friction or steel and flint. He hesitantly touched the metal and then held it gently in his hands; fully expecting it to be as hot as a flame, but it was cool.

  “The American’s made that,” said Aton.

  “Yes, I believe they were gods.”

  Aton took back the can. “This is just a piece of metal. They weren’t gods.”

  “You put the power of the sun into our fire, and it’s ablaze. Explain how this could be, if not from the gods.”

  “But—” Aton could not even begin to explain how it had worked, so he abruptly gave up.

  “Aton. It’s powerful magic. Summon them and ask for guidance. Have them lead us away from here so we can enjoy our riches. Offer them tribute, jewels, or a sacrifice. I’ll do anything.”

  “If the Americans were gods, why did they disappear? Where are they?”

  Hauk pointed up. “They watch us from above.”

  “Then you pray for help and I’ll cook something to eat. We’ll see which of the two actually happens.”

  Aton's first thought was to use the fire to prepare a warm meal, not a supper of cold and raw shellfish. The basket he had woven contained two dozen eggs. Aton cooked them over the hot cinders. Shortly thereafter, the eggs were roasted, and Aton invited his friend to take his share of the supper.

  “Here,” said Aton, as he rolled the cooked eggs from the ashes with a stick. “You should have a full stomach when your gods arrive.”

  Hauk grumbled, too hungry to argue anymore, and took his share of the first hot food in longer than he cared to remember. The warm eggs were excellent, and they knew that eggs were very nourishing. Even under these meager circumstances, they felt like they were fortunate. Not wanting to waste anything, they devoured all the shellfish, and then reclined on the sandy cave floor to rest and digest the warm meal.

  Night had come. Outside they could hear the wind howling as its speed increased, and the monotonous sound of the waves breaking on the shore. Aton retired into a dark corner, and then overcome by fatigue, he managed to forget his sorrows when he fell asleep. Hauk passed most of the night with one eye staring at the aluminum can by the fire, waiting for a sign from the gods. It never came.

  During the night, soft paw prints fell silently, one in front of one another, as they crept toward the rock shelter’s entrance. Red predator eyes reflected the firelight as they pierced through the darkness and peered into the cave. Crouching low in the shadows, the cougar turned its ears in alternating directions as it took in the scent of the grotto’s new occupants. It disappeared across their log bridge and went back into the woods as silently as the curling smoke drifted away from the dying flames of the campfire.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The next morning, they were very hungry, but refreshed after a good night’s sleep. Hauk knew that they were stuck here for a while, so he buried the leather bag that contained their loot, covering it with the soft, fine silt and sand-covered ground inside their grotto. While he dug the shallow hole in the cave floor, he thought to himself, where are we? It was an important question, and they both knew that they should solve this riddle with the shortest possible delay. To get the answer to the puzzle of specifically where they were, they would have to venture to the summit of the dormant volcano to look around and observe the surrounding region from the peak. That examination of the encircling terrain might determine their location and in which direction they should continue their journey. When they did get their bearings, their only option for departure seemed to be leaving the area by foot. They had wrecked the boat and did not have the necessary tools to fix the damaged vessel or to make another. From an elevated location, they might be able to see a village or city. Maybe even a waft of smoke from the chimney of a lonely cottage could get them headed in the correct direction. With the valuables that they had recently acquired, they could walk to a town and buy provisions to continue their long trek, but they had not yet answered the most important question. Where were they? From its answer, they would know what measures to take. However, according to Aton's advice, and Hauk agreed, it appeared best to wait a few days before commencing an exploration of the surrounding region. They must first prepare some provisions and procure food other than just eggs and mollusks. The castaways, before undertaking the fatigue and stress of an expedition on foot and in unknown territory, had wisely decided that they must first regain their strength.

  The cave offered a retreat sufficient for the present. They had fire and a supply of dry wood. There were plenty of eggs and shellfish among the rocks and on the beach. It would be easy to kill, either by throwing sticks, stones, or using Aton’s bow and arrows, a few of the birds that were flying by in large flocks over the summit of the plateau. Perhaps the trees, bushes, or plants of the neighboring forest would supply them with something edible, too. Finally, the stream water was close to their temporary home and was sufficient for drinking.

  After Aton rose from a deep slumber, he cooked the remaining eggs on the hot embers of last night’s fire. They decided that for a few days they would remain at the cave to prepare themselves for an expedition into the interior of the country, to climb the old volcanic cone. From its summit, they hoped to better determine where they were, something more precise than just knowing that they were somewhere around the eastern edge of Lake Pontchartrain.

  “Well,” said Aton, as he tried to rub the somnolence from his eyes, “I think we can do better than just eggs today.” He retrieved the ancient stainless-steel pot, turned it over to spill the silt and sand from it, and gave it to Hauk. “See if you can find some crayfish near the raft. The stream is shallow there. Fill the pot with water, and we can boil and eat them before venturing back into the woods.”

  Hauk took the pot and started to walk away, but abruptly stopped when Aton asked him to look for certain herbs to season their food, herbs with which Hauk was not familiar. Aton had seen mustard greens growing by the stream and wanted to add some flavor to their next meal.

  “I don’t know what mustard looks like. I was a soldier, not a gardener.”

  Aton quickly shuffled the eggs in the hot ashes, moving them closer to the edge of the embers, and sprang up to join Hauk in the search. Exiting their home side by side, they halted simultaneously as if they had suddenly realized that they were at the edge of a cliff. Just at their feet, near their cave’s entrance, was a distinct trail of cougar paw prints on a path of moist clay soil, which meandered to their log bridge and into the forest. While they had slept, it was obvious that a large cougar had ventured close to the entry and paused there during the dark of night.

  “They weren’t there when we went inside last night,” said Hauk.

  Aton knelt by the closest paw print and put his hand over the impression. It was easily as big as his palm. By the time Aton stood up, they had both smelled the musky odor of the male cat; it had sprayed the rocks with its scent. Without saying a word, Aton went back into the cave to get his bow, a quiver of arrows to sling onto his back, and Hauk’s sword. Because of the stealthy predator, he felt the urge to keep their weapons close. When he came back into the daylight, he saw Hauk urinating on the rocks around the cave’s entrance.

  “What are you doing?” asked Aton.

  “This is my home. I can mark my territory, too.”

  “Fine.” Aton leaned Hauk’s sword against a large rock, and picked up the stainless-steel pot. “I’ll get the crawfish. Show that cougar who the master is.”

  The grass was low around the shallow water, no place for a cougar to hide. Without fear of a surprise attack, Aton gathered some large crawfish and a handful of fresh mustard greens to boil with their new breakfast food.

  Back by the fire, Aton showed Hauk the foliage from the mustard plant he had just picked, and then put the leafy greens into the pot of water to boil with the crawfish. The day’s first meal ended and it was a meager excuse for breakfast, hardly satisfying. Aton suggested that
they go into the forest and try to hunt. Hauk agreed, so they gathered their weapons, and the closer they got to the log bridge, the firmer Hauk’s grip became on the handle of his sword.

  The good weather was turning bad, and a stiff breeze blew from the west. A storm appeared to be brewing on the horizon. After crossing their log bridge, they proceeded along the bank of the narrow river. Just before entering the cover of the trees, they looked back, thinking that they might see a lurking predator sniffing around their new home, but all they saw was the curling smoke from their fire.

  Arriving at the forest, Aton broke two stout branches from an old tree. He thought they should transform the thick branches into clubs. Using a large rock as an abrasive, Hauk rubbed the thick and jagged ends of their primitive wooden clubs as smooth as he could make them.

  “This won’t protect us from a cougar,” Hauk firmly stated.

  “Neither will your sword.”

  “What do you mean? My shoulder is fine. I’m very skilled with my blade.”

  “I’m not questioning your abilities. What I meant is simply that you’ll never see the cougar approach. They are skilled hunters, well-practiced at stalking their game, especially in territory familiar to them.”

  “Then what are we doing here? We’re surrounded by shadows in a thick forest. It could be anywhere. Maybe it’s watching us right now.”

  “Don’t worry too hard. They like to prowl at night. Besides, I’ve seen deer and hog tracks. That’s what it is used to hunting.”

  “Then what are the clubs for?”

  “I would rather not waste an arrow on a bird. If we can swing a club into a startled flock, we might get something else to eat.”

  Hauk’s gaze was still transfixed on the forest’s interior. He appeared hesitant to enter the thick jungle because of stalking predators concealed in the shadows.

  “Let’s follow the river for a while,” said Aton. “You won’t see any cougars. Let’s go.”

  Hauk followed him, but did not completely turn his back to the woods through which he anxiously walked. The two hunters advanced through the long grass, following the stream’s edge. The river narrowed gradually, and the channel meandered between high banks, over which the trees formed a green arch. Aton, not wanting to become lost on this long trek, resolved to follow the course of the stream, which would always lead them back to the point from where they started, but obstacles riddled the terrain, making the journey more burdensome than he had predicted. Tree branches had bent into their path. They had to slash vines as they made their trail, and they smashed thorn bushes with their clubs. Since Hauk had not seen a cougar and felt more relaxed because of this, his mood changed, and he glided around the rough landscape with the agility of a young rabbit, occasionally disappearing in the undergrowth, but Aton called him back directly, begging him not to wander away. All the while, the hunters attentively observed the unfamiliar terrain of the surrounding region.

  The ground, which was flat and marshy, rose imperceptibly toward the interior. Here, it looked like a network of narrow streams that a naturally camouflaged spring appeared to feed. Sometimes narrow creeks ran through the undergrowth, which they crossed without difficulty. The opposite side of the stream appeared to be more uneven, and they passed a hill, covered with trees, which intercepted the view. On the opposite bank, walking would have been difficult, because the ground sloped suddenly. The strength of their roots was all that held the bent trees in place over the babbling water.

  This forest, as well as the shoreline they had already surveyed, was destitute of any sign of human life. They only saw impressions in the soil that wild animals had left, but they had not yet observed the mark of an axe on the trees, or the ashes of a fire, or the imprint of a single human foot. Aton finally admitted to himself that this might actually be a good thing because on any land near the swamps, they should fear the presence of man, or more specifically, cannibals.

  Because of the great difficulties of walking through the bushes, they hardly spoke. So far, the hunt had not been successful. However, some birds sang and fluttered in the foliage, and did not appear very timid, as if people had not yet inspired them with an instinctive fear. As the two hunters advanced, they found the trees to be more scattered, many being magnificent, but none bore anything edible. Aton had found a persimmon tree, but its fruit had not matured. When they came across a pecan tree, they put as many of last autumn’s fallen nuts into their pockets as they could carry.

  At that moment, a flock of birds, of a small size and pretty plumage, with long feathery tails, dispersed themselves among the branches. The flapping exodus strewed their feathers, which covered the ground with fine down. Aton picked up a few of these feathers, and after he examined them, thought they would make wonderful stuffing for a bed, but he did not intend to extend his stay to accommodate that luxury. He wanted to leave this place.

  The two of them, creeping among the grasses, arrived at the foot of a tree where little birds covered the lower branches. The roosting birds were waiting for flying insects to eat. With growling stomachs, both men hid behind a bush to observe their prey. Crouched low to the ground, they felt like the prowling cougar that they feared might be watching them at this very moment. Then the hunters quickly rose, and using their clubs like scythes, they mowed down whole rows of these birds, who never thought of flying away, easily allowing the men to knock the small birds dead. Aton separated the lifeless birds into two equal piles and wrapped opposite ends of a vine around each cluster of their clawed feet. He wore the hanging birds like a scarf over his shoulders. Then they continued their exploration. The river was leading them toward the mountain. Aton thought that the stream must have its source near there, possibly a hidden lake near the dead volcano.

  Aton knew that his intention today was to procure the greatest possible store of game, for meat to dry. They both acknowledged that so far, they had not attained this goal. The birds were a meager size. Aton’s hunter eyes had been searching for other things, too. Animals like deer, which he would be willing to risk losing an arrow for, but he had seen none. The jittery deer were cautious of the cougar’s presence, just as nervous as the men were.

  At mid-afternoon, they saw turkeys through the trees beside their path. They were picking at red berries, which had fallen to the forest floor. Aton was determined to get hold of at least one of those large birds whose flesh he was sure would be better than the little morsels strung over his shoulders, but the strutting birds would not allow anything to approach them. After several fruitless attempts, which resulted in nothing but frightening the birds, he changed his technique.

  “We need to go fishing,” whispered Aton, not wanting to alarm the turkeys with the sound of his voice any more than was necessary.

  “Walk all the way back to the lake?” asked Hauk, his voice just passing the volume of a whisper, revealing his frustration compounded with hunger.

  “No, no, no. Fishing for birds using string tied with a noose at one end and worms as bait. We’ll let the turkeys snare themselves. I’ve done it before in the forest near my home.”

  Aton did not want to risk losing or even damaging any of his precious arrows on small game. He needed them for large prey and protection from lurking dangers, like a prowling cougar or a stealthy cannibal. He gave Hauk the task of digging worms from the soft riverbank while he twisted some dry plant fiber into strings long enough for each of the snares. With great interest, Hauk watched Aton work, although doubting the possibility of his success in capturing a turkey.

  Aton, passing through the grass and concealing himself skillfully, placed the ends of his lines, which he had tied as open nooses, near the area where the turkeys had pecked at the ground for food. He suspended the two snares from the forest floor using sticks, just high enough that when the turkeys pecked at the bait, they would plunge their heads through the nooses and expose their necks to the gallows. Large red worms, which Hauk had acquired, furnished the bait.

  When he returned f
rom placing the traps, he held the other ends of the long strings, and hid with Hauk behind a large tree. Both hunters waited, but Hauk still did not expect much success. He was impatient. To him it seemed as if half the day had passed, but then, as Aton had surmised, several of the turkeys returned. They strutted along, pecking at bugs on the ground, and did not suspect the presence of men. Now that their prey had arrived, Hauk became very interested in this task. He held his breath, and Aton, his eyes staring, his mouth open, and his lips parting, as if about to taste a piece of turkey, barely breathed. Meanwhile, the birds walked around the dangling snares, without taking any notice of them. Aton gave little tugs that moved the strings, which captured the turkeys’ attention. The jerking motion attracted the turkeys, and then the birds noticed the squirming worms, wriggling on the other side of the nooses. They plunged their necks through the snares and attacked the worms with their beaks, and the two voracious birds clamped down on the bait simultaneously. With a jerk to the strings, Aton set the nooses tightly around their necks. Desperate wing flapping proved that it had worked. Aton quickly handed the lines to Hauk, grabbed his club, and rushed to their catch. As he sprinted to the fluttering birds, he heard Hauk yelling, “You did it! You did it! Smash their heads and don’t let them get away.”