Steve and the Sabretooth Tiger

by Dan Anthony

  He stopped and listened. At first he thought he must be imagining the sound. But it came back and it was as faint as the sound of a baby crying in a neighbour’s house. Steve peered into the silver night towards the sound. His heart pounded. He was concentrating too hard to feel worried. Perhaps this was the Ice Baby. Perhaps this was the reason why he’d been sent to this lonely, cold mountainside.

  Something caught Steve’s eye, a tiny movement to his left. He turned quickly. This time he saw a shape. Steve moved forward.

  ‘OK,’ he said, ‘I know you’re there. Come out so I can see you.’

  Slowly, Steve edged towards the boulder.

  ‘Come out,’ shouted Steve, ‘I know you’re there.’

  Steve was too tired to be scared. Before he could weigh up whether he was right or wrong he jumped behind the rock. He was fed up with not knowing things.

  But there was nothing there. Steve bent down and looked at the snow. His eyes widened and his mouth opened as his hand traced the shapes in the snow. They weren’t paw prints, they were footprints. Then he saw it, lying on the snow, wrapped in animal skins, blue with cold, it was a baby – an ice baby. It let out a friendly gurgle. Steve stretched out his hand. He smiled at the baby.

  ‘Hello there,’ he said, ‘you must be the Ice Baby.’

  Steve felt something cold slap into the side of his head. The force of the blow sent him crashing across onto the snow. As he slid on the cold silver ice Steve twisted his head and saw a figure, taller than him, wearing an animal skin like him. The figure held a stick with both its hands. It ran at Steve swinging the stick at Steve’s head.

  Steve’s head was still swimming after the first whack. He managed to move to one side as the log came down, splatting into the ice inches from his nose. Steve pushed his hand into his pocket. He felt the dummy. That was the last thing he wanted. He threw it at the baby. He felt the librarian’s paperweight. He pulled it out as the attacker took another swing at his head. When the log hit the ground Steve threw the stone with all his strength at the attacker’s head. It hit. The attacker stood still for a moment, wobbled and then collapsed into the snow.

  Steve clambered to his feet. He felt quite pleased with himself as he dusted snow off his sheepskin. He walked over, picked up his lucky rock and popped it back into his pocket. Then he turned to the body in the snow. What kind of Neanderthal would it be? A hairy one? A spotty one? A crossed-eyed one with no front teeth? Steve wanted to get a glimpse of the creature he’d just destroyed with his stone. He pulled at the beast’s woolly hat. What he saw made him cry out loud with surprise and shock.

  It was a girl. Her black hair was matted and her skin was white as the snow. Her eyes were closed. Steve moved closer. He knelt down and put his ear next to the girl’s mouth. She was still breathing. He looked around. He had no idea what to do. The girl was taller than Steve, he guessed she might have been the same age as his sisters. She looked a little like Jaydee.

  Steve buried his head in his hands – his dream was becoming a nightmare. It felt far worse doing bad things to other people than having terrible things done to him.

  ‘NO!,’ shouted Steve as he stared at the girl, ‘why did you do that?’

  He was disgusted with himself. He felt the mountains turn their backs on him. He knew that if he could he had to help the girl. He hadn’t meant her any harm.

  Steve looked around desperately. It was getting very, very cold. He realised they had to get off the mountain before the frost swallowed them all in a snowdrift forever. Steve tried pulling the girl to her feet, but she was unconscious. He tried carrying the baby and dragging the girl, but the girl was too heavy. In the end Steve sat down on the ground next to the girl. He looked down at the baby in his arms. It was sucking the blue dummy. Steve remembered his mum. She hated dummies. She said they deformed babies’ teeth and made them look stupid. He hoped the Ice Baby’s parents didn’t mind dummies. He wished the girl would get up. She’d be able to get them off the mountain. She’d know the way down.

  Whack. Something hit Steve, hard. This time it knocked him out cold too.

  When Steve woke up it wasn’t cold or dark any more. He could smell smoke and feel the warmth of a fire and he could hear birds, nice small tweeting birds. He blinked as he sat up, rubbing his head. It hurt. It was the biggest headache he’d ever had. Even bigger than the one he had when he had to go to the doctor with suspected migraine. Slowly things came into focus. He was lying on a bed of pine needles under a tall spiky tree near a smoky fire in a forest.

  Steve sat up. Two people looked at him: a very old woman, bent almost double, and the young girl. Both wore clothes made from animal skins, like his. Around their necks they had necklaces made of shells. They stood and watched as Steve sat up. They seemed to be waiting for him to do something. But Steve didn’t know what to do. He stared at the old lady.

  ‘Did you hit me?’ he asked, incredulously.

  The old lady grinned and nodded.

  Then Steve heard a different sound, not the birds, or the spitting of the damp wood in the fire. He heard a noise that reminded him why he was there in the first place. A baby began to cry. Steve turned and saw the baby. It was lying next to him, wrapped in skins, sucking on the dummy. It looked up at Steve and smiled. The baby seemed pleased to see Steve.

  ‘Err – is this the Ice Baby?’ asked Steve.

  ‘Are you Steve?’ asked the girl.

  ‘Who’s she?’ asked Steve, pointing at the old woman.

  ‘My gran,’ said the girl.

  ‘Can you explain what’s going on?’ asked Steve. ‘I thought I was having a bad dream, then a nightmare, but now I’m not so sure. Does your mum do Spanish lessons?’

  The girl looked at the old woman. The old woman nodded, she seemed to trust Steve.

  ‘Steve,’ said the girl, ‘you’re the answer to our prayers.’

  Steve scratched his sore head.

  ‘You’ve been sent to help us. My grandmother has prayed, I have prayed, even the little baby has prayed. ‘Send us a warrior to get us out of this mess.’ That is what we asked of our gods.’

  ‘They sent you,’ said the old woman. ‘You must be a beginner warrior. Is this your first time?’

  Steve blinked at the old lady.

  ‘What mess?’ he asked. ‘What exactly is the problem?’

  ‘This little baby is my brother,’ said the girl. ‘We are all that remains of our tribe,’ said the girl.

  Steve had a bad feeling about the news he was hearing.

  ‘The others were killed by the humans,’ said the girl.

  ‘Hold on a minute,’ said Steve, ‘aren’t you human?’

  ‘Of course not,’ said the girl, proudly, ‘I’m a halfling.’

  Steve wasn’t sure what a halfling was. The girl sighed impatiently.

  ‘A long time ago this place was shared between two tribes of people. Tall, thin humans, and short strong Neanderthals. They were friends. My mother was a human and my father was a Neanderthal,’ said the girl. ‘Then the food started to run out and the humans organised themselves. First they killed the Neanderthals, then the halflings, now they kill any human who helps a halfling or a Neanderthal. We’re all that’s left. The three of us.’

  Steve looked at the old woman.

  ‘Is she a halfling too?’ asked Steve.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, she could have killed you when she hit you. She didn’t use a stick to knock you out. She’s a one-punch wonder. That’s what we call her – One Punch. She’s a full-on Neanderthal. The very last one.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you, One Punch,’ said Steve.

  One Punch nodded and smiled.

  ‘We came up the mountain to search for you,’ said the girl. ‘Our gods told us you would be there.’

  ‘Don’t tell me,’ said Steve, ‘do your gods speak to you when you’re asleep.’

  The old lady laughed.

  ‘You see how wise he is,’ she cackled. ‘He’s the warrior we have been
promised and no mistake.’

  ‘We thought you were trying to kill us. It was the sign you gave us that saved your life. One Punch was just about to pull your heart out so that the baby could have a nice warm drink of blood. But our gods predicted that Steve would bring peace to the starving baby,’ said the girl, ‘that’s what you did.’

  The girl pointed at the baby happily sucking its dummy. Steve shifted uneasily in his sheepskin boots.

  The girl and One Punch looked at Steve.

  ‘Well?’ they said.

  ‘Well, what?’ said Steve.

  ‘You’re the warrior sent by the gods,’ said the girl. ‘Tell us what to do.’

  Steve thought for a moment. He glanced back at the high snow-capped mountains. He remembered the icy cold and the dreadful silence of the cold dark slopes. Then he remembered his mother’s Spanish class.

  ‘We should head south,’ he said. ‘If we go up into the hills we’ll freeze to death. The south is always warmer, that’s what they say in the Spanish class.’

  ‘Very well,’ said One Punch, ‘the warrior has spoken. Let it be so.’

  One Punch began marching away, through the pine trees. The girl threw earth on the fire to put it out, picked up the baby and followed. Steve ran after them.

  ‘Aren’t you going to ask why?’ said Steve. ‘I could be wrong.’

  ‘It’s a crazy idea,’ said One Punch. ‘Heading south takes us straight through hostile lands held by the human tribes. But who knows, if we can get to the other side, they do say there are wide empty spaces beyond. That’s if the cats don’t eat us.’

  ‘The cats?’ echoed Steve.

  ‘They’re not exactly “cats”,’ said the girl hurrying after One Punch. ‘They are more like tigers, but with great long teeth like swords. Nobody would ever try to get past them.’

  ‘And there’s the swamps,’ said One Punch to the girl, ‘I’d like to see how he’s going to get us through that.’

  Steve ran after them.

  ‘You see,’ said One Punch, ‘he knows how to take risks. He looks and sounds stupid, but he’s definitely got the mind of a warrior. Only a real warrior would come up with a bold plan like that.’

  ‘Marching south to the empty lands – wow!’ agreed the girl, happily. ‘If he wasn’t a great warrior, we’d certainly be killed by the humans.’

  ‘Mashed to pieces,’ said One Punch, then she started whistling.

  The girl turned and looked back at Steve as he hurried towards them through the trees.

  ‘That is one dangerous plan,’ she said. ‘You must be awfully good.’

  Steve swallowed. Maybe he’d made a mistake.

  ‘You’ve heard that there’s a place in the south where we can be free. You know the stories about the places where the Neanderthals can live freely, far away from the horrible human beings.’

  ‘Look,’ panted Steve, ‘I’m not a real warrior. I’m just a boy. I’m scared of fighting. When I see danger I go indoors. Honestly, I’m really scared. I can’t help you.’

  But the Neanderthal and the halfling girl ignored him and hurried away into the forest.

  8

  Flesheaters

  One Punch, the baby, the girl and Steve walked (or in Steve’s case ran) down the sloping land on the side of the mountain. The girl carried the baby in the sling on her back. Both she and her grandmother stepped silently across the ground. Their feet seemed to float over the beds of pine needles. It was Steve who blundered along, splitting twigs, slipping on needles and falling into potholes.

  Every time Steve made a noise One Punch and the girl exchanged glances, as if to say that they didn’t understand why Steve was so useless at keeping quiet, after all, he was supposed to be a good warrior. They didn’t stop for food; they just kept going, resting every hour. The girl and One Punch seemed very nervous. They wanted to get out of the forest as quickly as possible. They kept looking over their shoulders, as if they knew they were being followed. Sometimes they’d stop and listen. Then they’d exchange glances and hurry along, even faster. The Ice Baby slept in its sling, sucking on the blue dummy happily.

  ‘You know you shouldn’t really let them have dummies all the time,’ said Steve.

  The girl glared at Steve.

  ‘Steve, if the humans don’t get us, the sabretooth tigers will, and if they don’t get us, then we’ll drown when we cross the great swamps, and if that doesn’t happen there’s always the lions. The journey south is impossibly dangerous. I’m not going to stop the baby from having this “dummy”. It’s entitled to some pleasure. Anyway, you gave it to him.’

  Steve glared at the girl.

  ‘I can’t help you! I’m not a warrior. What do I know about killing tigers?’ shouted Steve.

  ‘You must be. It’s been foretold!’ the girl shouted back. ‘Only a warrior can save us.’

  ‘I’m not a war…’

  One Punch put her finger to her lips.

  ‘Sshshh,’ she said, gazing into the green and black world of pine trunks and needles.

  ‘Humans,’ she added, sniffing the air with her nose. ‘About forty or fifty, coming from that direction, maybe a mile off.’

  The three travellers moved off. This time One Punch and the girl jogged and Steve ran as fast as he could to keep up. There was a fizzing sound in the air. Steve couldn’t work out what it was. It was like the flapping of birds’ wings, it came closer and closer, swinging and swaying as it swished past the trees and then, with a clatter, it stopped as it crashed into a tree trunk close to Steve.

  ‘Come on,’ yelled the girl, ‘run for it, we’re almost out of the forest. They won’t follow us beyond the forest.’

  A flat piece of wood clattered to the ground as it bounced off a tree. It was about the size of a cricket bat, but bent, like a coat hanger.

  ‘Boomerangs,’ muttered Steve, ‘that’s just great. These things are lethal.’

  He turned and shouted back into the forest.

  ‘Have you any idea how dangerous these can be?’

  Suddenly the air was full of the beating sound of the boomerangs as they curved in and around their prey. One Punch managed to knock one aside just before it struck the little baby clinging on the girl’s back. Steve ducked as one almost chopped his head off. It was getting harder to run fast as the boomerangs kept swinging in from all angles. Their sharpened edges sliced the air like helicopter blades, filling the forest with a strange purring sound. Steve knew it was only a matter of time before they got hit.

  ‘It’s no good,’ he said, ‘we’re going to get sliced up by Stone Age boomerang throwers. This couldn’t be worse.’

  ‘There it is,’ shouted One Punch as she bounded towards the edge of the forest.

  Steve looked ahead. He could see the sun’s rays splashing into the forest; he could make out bright yellow grassland ahead as another boomerang crashed in towards him. Maybe, he thought, just maybe, there would be enough time to scramble out of the forest. He ran as fast as he could. Leaping over fallen logs, shielding his head with his arms.

  With screams of relief they ran free of the forest, bounding out into the open plain. Breathless, they stopped and looked back as the humans arrived at the fringe of the pine forest. Steve watched them emerge from the dark gaps between the pine trees. Their fur skins fluttered in the breeze blowing in off the plain. The men had long straggly hair, some had plaited it into dreadlocks, they had beards, and patterns painted on their legs. They looked wild and ferocious. The biggest of them stepped forward. Steve guessed he was almost seven feet tall. He looked like one of the trees he lived in. On his head he wore a wooden crown, with pine cones and ivy leaves decorating the top.

  ‘That’s their king,’ said the girl helpfully.

  ‘King Headcase,’ said One Punch and she spat on the grass. ‘He’s a total nutter.’

  ‘Halflings,’ shouted the king, ‘you have a choice. Return to us and accept your fate, or continue into the Plain of Beasts and find yourself providin
g light refreshments for some of the best eaters the animal kingdom has ever produced.’

  Then he laughed. Then all the tribesmen laughed.

  Steve didn’t laugh. He watched them, laughing out loud at a joke that wasn’t funny. He’d met people like this in school. He didn’t like them.

  One Punch looked at Steve; he could see from the way her eyes sparkled that she had an idea. He was glad. He didn’t have any ideas.

  ‘Challenge him,’ said One Punch.

  ‘Brilliant,’ said the girl.

  The baby sucked on its dummy, its brown eyes were wide open, it gurgled with pleasure.

  ‘Sorry?’ said Steve. ‘Am I missing something?’

  ‘Return to the forest and we will treat you with the respect a Halfling deserves,’ yelled King Headcase. ‘We will not kill you immediately, we will put you to work making boomerangs,’ he urged, walking menacingly along the fringes of the forest. ‘Then we will eat you. It will be a great honour for you to be consumed by the Flesheater people.’

  ‘Flesheater people,’ muttered Steve, ‘nobody said they were going to eat us.’

  ‘Challenge King Headcase to mortal combat,’ said the girl. ‘When you kill him they’ll be so frightened we’ll be able to slip away.’

  ‘Can’t we just slip away anyway?’ asked Steve.

  ‘We have to stay near the forest, Headcase is right, we’ll be cat meat before you can say, “Oh look, there they are”,’ said One Punch, pointing at a gathering group of sandy-skinned, sabretooth tigers meandering menacingly closer as they gathered in the long grass nearby.

  Desperately, Steve glanced behind him. He saw tigers with teeth like he’d never seen before. Each tiger had a pair of massive fangs pointing downwards from the upper jaw. They prowled around one another, occasionally glancing at Steve and his friends. Steve felt that one big tiger, with huge yellow fangs, seemed to be concentrating on him. He watched as the tiger’s slobbery tongue rolled around its teeth. Steve realised there was no way of getting past the tigers. Somehow he had to deal with the flesh-eating human beings.