Ott and the boy remained motionless as the hare ate and perked its ears. Slowly the hare moved to a position on the mound where it faced away from them. Ott nodded, and the boy lifted the small spear to throwing position. In one quick motion he rose and hurled.
The spear flew between the hare’s erect ears and slid into the vine thicket. The hare was gone in an instant.
They probed the area, and after several moments of searching, the boy felt what he thought was the end of the spear at a little more than arm’s length in the middle of the vines. He extended his body farther and grasped a handful of tangled vine growth and the end of the spear. He pulled at them both, and the green vines stretched taut.
From his vantage point, Ott watched as the boy struggled. Suddenly Graf lost his footing on the slippery bank and fell backward, releasing his grip. The stretched vines snapped back, and the spear flew out the opposite side of the thicket and stuck in the soft earth several feet away. From where he stood, Ott had caught sight of what had happened. Now he stood motionless staring at the spear protruding from the earthen mound.
Graf lifted himself from the ground and approached the thicket. He thrust his arm into the tangled vines and felt for the spear. He turned as Ott called to him and motioned for him to come to where he stood, still staring at the spear. Graf walked to Ott and shifted his look in the direction of Ott’s stare. He saw the spear and started toward it, but Ott stopped him with an extended arm at his chest. Graf stood uncomprehending as Ott glanced from the vines to the spear. After several moments, Ott walked to the spear and pulled it from the earth. Then he approached the thicket at its thinnest point. He poked the back end of the small spear into the thicket until he felt resistance from the tangled vines. He pushed harder, forcing the small spear farther and stretching the vines back. Stepping to the side, he released his grip and the spear flew a few feet and fell to the ground. As Graf watched, Ott repeated the process several times. Each time the spear flew from the recoil.
Graf was anxious to continue the hunt, but Ott pointed in the direction of the cave. His mind was churning, obsessed with the germ of an idea. All he needed was a mechanism, a way to launch the spear. The walk to the cave was silent, and the boy noticed Ott making strange movements with his hands as though working with a tool.
23
Some ideas come instantly, and the result is recognized in short order. Others manifest only after the initial thought is developed and nurtured. This was the case with Ott’s observance on the hunt with Graf. The small spear flying from the thicket had triggered a startling realization: a spear could fly without being thrown. He had seen it, but he had also felt that it meant something else. What that was, he wasn’t sure, but the scene at the thicket replayed itself in his mind as he and Graf returned to the cave. Later, as he sat with Cha at their hearth, it continued to play in his consciousness. That night in a dream he saw a deer grazing on an open plain, when suddenly the small spear appeared to fly toward it from a great distance. The spear flew closer and closer to the beast and finally buried itself into its flank. He awoke the instant the deer dropped to its front knees and slumped over on its side.
As Cha slept, Ott retrieved a length of sinew normally used to bind skins for body coverings. He tied it to each end of his own throwing spear and then centered the blunt end of the small spear against the sinew. His hands explored various positions on the apparatus. He pulled back on the sinew and released it. The small spear flew several yards, bounced off the rock wall, and clattered to the floor.
The idea would become a reality with profound implications.
Ott worked on the bow relentlessly. He selected limbs of various lengths from different trees and discovered early on that longer, flexible limbs worked best. When the sinew kept slipping from where the ends were tied, he cut notches to secure it. He replaced the spear with smaller shafts that flew farther. He notched the smaller shafts to accept the sinew and keep from slipping. Through weeks of experimentation, he crafted several bows and arrows until he had a combination that performed consistently, but with a persistent problem. His bow threw the arrows a great distance farther than he could hurl his best spear. But for all his work, he could not overcome the fact that the arrows did not fly accurately. They were unstable, and hitting an intended target depended on luck as much as skill. He tried different ways of holding and drawing the bow, but nothing helped. The arrows always flew unpredictably.
Ott’s frustration grew as he struggled with the predicament. He knew if the bow were accurate, it would be of great benefit in the hunt, but as it was it would not be much use beyond shooting into a herd of grazing beasts. Ott had shared his idea with the clan from the beginning of his experimentation, and a few known for their ability at spear and tool fashioning had assisted him. But no one had a solution for the bow’s accuracy.
Then, on a cold fall morning as Ott stood with Ahru at the cave-entrance fire, a flock of geese flew directly overhead in a V formation. Both men looked up at the honking. The geese flew in a perfectly straight line until they cleared the horizon and disappeared. Ahru looked from the sky to Ott and took the arrow from his hand. He motioned toward the geese with the arrow. Ott understood. Yes, the arrow must fly as straight as the geese.
Ott made his way to his hearth and retrieved a necklace fashioned with goose feathers collected from nesting sites where the clan gathered eggs. The idea was an almost mystical approach. Perhaps feathers attached to the shaft would imbue it to fly as straight as the geese. Over the next few days Malan, Ahru, and others watched inquisitively as Ott attached feathers in several locations on several shafts. The experimentation continued for days, and then finally a shaft with several smaller feather tips attached with wound sinew at the base flew closer to the target.
Over the next several months, Ott continued refining several bows and shafts until he finally had a bow that would launch the small shafts with accuracy and speed. Along with the development of its design came the way to handle it. At first Ott drew the sinew and shaft back toward the middle of his torso while holding the bow parallel to the ground. He eventually found that turning the bow perpendicular to the ground and drawing the shaft to his eye resulted in better accuracy. As Ott continued refining the weapon, others made bows of their own. Over time, every man and boy in the clan had bows and used them with extreme effectiveness. The younger boys took naturally to the weapon and used them to hunt smaller animals. The bow gave the men of the clan a much higher success rate in the hunt for larger animals. Animals out of range of the spear could now be hit with arrows, and even though they were rarely killed outright, they could be tracked until they expired from blood loss.
As time passed, the bow became an essential part of clan life, and no one made them or used them better than Ott. The bow even changed the way in which hunts were conducted. No longer was it necessary to stalk within spear-throwing distance. The success of the hunts increased dramatically, and now there was always enough food for everyone. Ott’s simple idea and persistence in creating the bow had lifted the clan to an unprecedented level of success. The clan was thriving.
Several years passed, and many young males of the clan grew to maturity and became skilled bow hunters. Foremost among them was Graf. He had followed Ott at every opportunity since he had been a child. In turn, Ott had tacitly accepted the boy as his charge and taught him the skills expected of a man of the clan. And as the seasons passed, Graf grew to manhood.
24
The early dawn was brisk and still as Ott and Graf approached the hoof-worn trail leading from the forest to a sun-washed meadow rich with lush grass. They had hunted from the trees adjacent to the path many times, and more often than not returned to the cave with the carcass of an animal.
They effortlessly climbed to their positions in separate trees on opposite sides of the trail, positioning themselves with unobstructed views. Once in position, they feigned shots while gazing over the path to cover as large a shooting area as possible. When co
mfortable with their positions, they settled and waited. Ott detected the movement in the brush at the far end of the trail an instant before Graf. Both men sat motionless as a small elk calf stumbled onto the path, followed an instant later by a mature female. The female stood unmoving as the calf let out a low bawl and stretched its head to her belly to suckle. After a moment, the nursing calf broke off and moved up the path, the female at its side. The animals closed within bow range, but Ott and Graf waited. They wanted close shots with well-placed arrows that would drop the beasts quickly. They knew tracking a wounded and bleeding animal was dangerous. It never took predators long to pick up blood scent, especially the lions that roamed the area. And to be surprised by one of the big cats was certain death.
The men tightened their grips and drew their bows as the animals ambled into range. Then, in a lightning blur, the long grass on the side of the path exploded as a huge male cave lion sprang at the calf. In an instant, the cow leaped ahead as the beast grasped the calf by the neck and pinned it to the ground. The calf stared from beneath the lion’s massive head in death shock as the beast clamped down, cutting off air and suffocating the weaker animal.
From his perch, Ott reacted almost instinctively. He drew his bow full length and let the arrow fly. The shaft struck the lion in the upper side and angled down, penetrating the stomach. Instantly the lion released its bite on the calf and twisted, snapping at the thing causing the hurt and burning in its side. Above the snarling beast, Ott readied his bow and released a second arrow as quickly as the first. The second shaft hit above the right front leg, the flint tip penetrating the hard muscle mass. The lion roared and bolted into the long grass with the protruding shafts bouncing as he trotted off in pain and confusion.
From his position in the other tree, Graf had watched shocked and motionless as Ott snapped off his arrows and the huge cat retreated into the grass. He had been too stunned by the explosive attack to react. His legs felt weak as he started down the tree. Across from him, Ott swung from his perch, bounded to the ground, and approached the dying calf. He removed a long flint blade from his pouch and deftly finished the dying animal. Then he stood staring at the spot where the lion had disappeared into the flaxen grass. Regaining his composure, Graf approached the calf carcass and began cutting away portions to be carried back to the cave. His work was interrupted when Ott grasped him by the arm and pointed in the direction the lion had taken. A second later Graf understood. Ott wanted to pursue the wounded beast.
Confusion spread over Graf’s face. The lion was dangerous. They had no need for it. Of all the predators, the cats were the most feared by the clan. One had never been killed, and even full hunting parties went out of their way to avoid them. Yet now it was obvious Ott wanted to track the wounded beast. Graf gestured with outstretched hands and pointed to the carcass ready to be butchered. Ott remained steadfast and waved his hand at the carcass while pointing toward the grass. Bewildered, Graf reluctantly retrieved his bow and followed Ott, who was already knee deep in the grass.
25
Blood frothed from the lion’s mouth with each breath. It wanted to stop and lay up in the thick brush, but thirst kept it moving toward the shallow pool. It stopped only to squat on its haunches and snarl at the thing that caused the burning. By the time it reached the pool, it was wracked with thirst and constant pain in its stomach. Its shoulder burned with each step and breathing was becoming difficult. It approached the edge of the shallow pool and took no notice of the small group of antelope that scattered at its approach. Dropping flat with its huge paws outstretched, the beast shook its black maned head and lapped at the cool water. The burning began to subside, but the pain spread through its entire stomach and it retched between swallows. After a few moments, it stopped drinking and pulled itself from the mud to the grass at the outer edge of the water. It lay sprawled, still taking pain with each shallow breath and wanting to kill the thing that caused it. The man smell flooded its consciousness.
Ott and Graf emerged from the tall grass in a low crouch and surveyed the area. Ott had hunted the country and knew the shallow water hole was close ahead. He also knew that it faced a sheer limestone cliff topped by a flat, treeless escarpment. The cliff face was laced with ledges just wide enough to walk on. They would make their way to the face and climb the ledges to a point where they could survey the area surrounding the water. The water hole was devoid of trees, and Ott wanted to be sure the lion couldn’t get to them. The natural ledge formation on the rock wall started at ground level and angled up with just enough room for the men to inch up with their backs pressed against the rock face. Although dangerous, it was a safe alternative to the ground and being surprised by the wounded lion from any of the expanses of reeds and brush that dotted the flat plain.
At an angle, just out of sight of the men, the dying beast coughed blood on the moist grass at the edge of the pool. With each breath pain wracked its body, but thirst drove it to rise and make its way to the water’s edge again. The drink did little to quench its thirst or extinguish the searing pain in its belly. Blood ran freely down its front quarters and dripped from the arrow dangling from its stomach. The burning pain and unquenchable thirst mingled with the man smell—the smell that caused the pain.
Ott inched along the ledge, followed by Graf, and rounded a curve in the face of the wall. With every few steps, he stopped and scanned the area around the pool. At first glance, the lion looked like a smooth growth of tawny brush surrounding a small, black boulder. Then the boulder moved. The lion dropped its huge head and lapped at the muddy water. Ott pointed to the lion as Graf moved to his side. Both men stared at the huge beast. The wind shifted, and the lion painfully turned toward the rock ledge. The man smell was stronger.
Pain swirled with blind fury. The lion started toward the wall where Ott and Graf stood motionless on the ledge. The beast closed the short distance across the flat, sandy plain at a slow trot. On the ledge, the men readied their bows. Ott glanced resolutely at Graf and pushed the fear from his mind. His fingers trembled as he nocked the arrow, and his vision stabbed through a tunnel into the eyes of the approaching beast.
At the glance, Graf understood Ott’s motivation. No one had ever killed a lion outright, but many men, women, and children had been stalked and killed by the cats for as long as anyone could remember. No one had ever survived an attack. Now, as Graf turned from Ott’s stern face to the black eyes of the closing cat, he understood. Ott was challenging his own fear, and he would conquer it—or die trying.
With plumes of pink froth bubbling from its flared nostrils, the lion roared and sprang at the wall, slashing the rock face inches below the motionless men. With the man smell and pain fueling its rage, the lion dropped to the ground, paced back and forth, and prepared to spring again. It crouched, thrust its huge head forward, and snapped at the air with a roar of pain. Ott drew the bow full length and released the arrow as the beast sprang. The lion was in midair as the flint-tipped shaft penetrated its throat through the black mane. Still roaring, the beast swiped at the men, catching Graf above the ankle. In a blur of noise and motion, Ott watched as Graf and the beast fell to the ground. Graf landed on his back stunned, but rose to a sitting position.
Several yards away the beast watched him. Graf pushed back as the lion took a step toward him without making a sound. The silence was broken by the snap of Ott’s bow and followed by the thwack of the arrow that buried itself in the beast’s neck at the base of its skull. The lion roared and swung its head around toward Ott on the ledge above. It stood with glazed eyes locked on the man before dropping to its haunches and swiping the air. The pain and rage in the beast faded to blackness as it rolled on its side, kicked spasmodically, and heaved its last breath.
Graf rose to his feet as Ott scrambled down the ledge and jumped to the ground. The men moved to the beast and marveled at its massiveness. The head of the animal would easily cover the entire torso of a man. Ott knelt and pushed back the skin of the mouth to reveal
its fangs. The biggest were longer than the finger he ran over them and twice as thick. The curved claws were the size of his flint knife. Surely the spirit of this beast was more powerful than that of any other animal. As Ott removed his cutting stone, he experienced an elated triumph that was quickly tempered with a confusing sense of loss. He hesitated, and then made the first cut to remove the hide.
That evening at the cave, Graf narrated the encounter and Ott displayed the tawny hide topped with the thick black mane. Cha sat beside him at the fire as Graf reenacted the slaying of the lion for the entire clan.
Later, Cha stole away to the interior of the cave, and on a rock face in view of the hearth she shared with Ott, she began working. Before the morning sun rose, she had completed her largest painting. The likeness of the lion dominated the rock face with coal-black eyes that glared with ferocity. Below the image of the lion, in a small space no bigger than her hand, she had placed three red orbs.
Several nights later, at the feast celebrating the full cycle of the moon, the entire clan gathered at the fire that roared at the entrance of the cave. Skewered meat roasted over small cooking fires, and edible roots and greens simmered in hide containers, cooked by the addition of heated stones to the water. Smoky aromas filled the air and whetted appetites, but no one ate. As was customary, everyone awaited the arrival of Malan, Ahru, and Ott.
Activity quieted as the three approached the fire from the cave interior. Malan walked to his seat at the outer edge of the fire and sat on the thick pile of skins that had been placed for him. Ahru approached and sat to the clan leader’s left. Ott and Cha sat last to the right of Malan. As Ott sat in the full illumination of the fire, all eyes turned to him. Covering his entire chest, a necklace created from the claws of the lion gleamed yellow-white from the fire, and from his shoulders hung the black mane. The spirit of the lion belonged to the clan, and Ott embodied that spirit.
The Way of the Seed_Earth Spawn of Kalpeon Page 7