by J. M. Hayes
The sharing of women by our leaders was something that was both known and not known. Not known, because it ran contrary to The People’s laws. Not known, because Blue Flower refused to be shared, and refused, also, to allow Stone to share those other women. The People believed a woman was worthy of having such wishes honored. Or, at least, not having them openly violated. Stone continued in the sharing, but he’d been careful about it and, though Blue Flower probably knew, she could pretend otherwise.
Also known, but not known, was a rumor that Hair on Fire and Slender Reed still met in the willows from time to time, including shortly before Tall Pine’s murder. Stone might have decided that made Fire a suspect. Did that explain the young man being put in this hunt’s most dangerous position? If so, Stone should have discussed his suspicions with me. Giving Fire the honor of killing the mammoth could prove dangerous to Stone’s leadership. Hair on Fire was popular, especially among the young men. If he killed the mammoth, his prestige would soar. If he was a threat to Stone and his friends now, he’d be more so after that. He’d be a champion to the disaffected among us and a hero to the rest of the young men, especially those also impatiently waiting for women of their own. Could Stone and Bull Hump and Takes Risks have a plan to insure Fire would fail? Or was it that they simply couldn’t imagine him being capable of killing the cow?
For The People, killing a mammoth is an exceptional event. The simplest way requires being in the right place at the right time. Near a convenient cliff surrounded by dry grass with the wind blowing in the right direction. Occasionally, mammoths can be panicked by fire and driven over a cliff, dying from the fall. Not often. Mammoths are among the wisest of beasts. Unless the cliff is all but undetectable until the last moment or the fire is extreme enough, they’ll stop, turn, even charge back through flames that cause painful burns. They’re seldom deterred if men stand in their way shooting arrows and waving robes at them. Not even if those men are accompanied by dogs.
The most common method of killing a mammoth is to bleed it to death. The band’s hunters attack in mass, hurling spears with their atlatls, shooting arrows, doing as much damage as possible and then scampering away…if they’re lucky. Most hunts of this sort result in the death of several dogs and at least one hunter. Or serious injuries, especially if we try to cut a single mammoth out of a herd. But once a beast is injured badly enough, it’s only a matter of time. It will grow increasingly weak and, eventually, lie down and die or hardly resist the quicker end we bring it. This, without our active participation, was our situation.
We had a ledge here, but it was too low for a fall to kill the cow, even if we could somehow drive her over its edge. But because she was already hurt, weakened, and alone, we could try a quicker method. Quicker, and more dangerous.
All of us would keep her attention while Hair on Fire came at her from downwind. When he got close enough, we would make as much noise as possible and attack together. Except for the dogs, though they’d bark and growl from where they’d been tied and help us focus the cow’s mind. We’d make the cow hurt enough to want to hurt us back. Then, while her attention was fully occupied, Fire would rush in and get beneath her. He’d thrust the short, stout spear with our sharpest obsidian tip up through her belly. He’d aim just below the bottom of her rib cage and drive it straight to her heart. If Fire’s luck held, he’d scramble out from under the mammoth before she collapsed on him or, if the spear hadn’t been properly aimed, before the cow caught him as he ran away.
Hair on Fire had disappeared into the rocks and brush, downwind, on the old cow’s left side. When he got as close to her as the cover allowed, he crawled out to a spot where I could see him. He waved. I passed the signal along to the rest of the men. We went at her, whooping and whistling and hurling rocks. A few waved skin robes. The mammoth kept her back to the stone and nodded her great head from side to side, keeping one eye in Fire’s direction and the other on us. This one had faced men before.
“Now!” Stone yelled. As one, we charged her. We threw spears. With the leverage of our atlatls most drove deep into her flesh. We shot arrows. They did little more than sting her, but they held her attention. Snaggletooth got free of the ropes that tied the rest of the dogs. He rushed in and snapped at her mighty legs. She caught him with a tusk and threw him back among us, bruised but not seriously hurt.
Hair on Fire rose from where he lay and ran at her. At the last second, the cow turned, not toward us as she was supposed to, but back toward Fire. Instead of breaking off his attack, Fire tried to slip between the cow’s side and the stone wall. The mammoth swung her head and the broken stump of her left tusk caught the boy and rammed him face-first into the rock. The band’s mammoth-killing spear clattered to the surface of the ledge under the cow. She seized the boy with her trunk and threw him against the wall again. Our spears and arrows had hurt the cow, but not nearly enough. The beast had turned so she faced away from most of us. She was sideways to me, where I stood at the far end of our line. She pummeled Fire, dashing him against the rocks and bringing her good tusk to savage the boy’s body.
I stopped thinking. I dropped my bow and ran under the cow. I scooped up the short spear, found the spot just beneath where the last of her ribs joined, and, with everything I had, drove the point up toward her heart. She screamed. I threw myself against the stone wall. If I’d hurt her badly, she should fall the other way toward her injured leg, and not where I crouched against the stone. If I’d failed, the monster would transfer her attentions from the boy to me.
I heard the cow cry a second time as I reached the rock. Rage and agony echoed in her voice. Her head turned away from Fire and her eyes found me. I reached out and grabbed the boy’s arm. I pulled him toward me and his body streaked the rocks with gore. The cow’s eyes glistened with acceptance and began to cloud. She toppled away from me. Her fall shook the earth.
Discoveries
I carried Hair on Fire down from the ledge. His head had lost its shape. He was unrecognizable. Even the unusual tint of his hair hardly showed through all the blood he’d lost. He’d been named for the way his hair glowed in the sun, and for his lightning-quick mood changes.
Down caught me from behind as I waded toward the island. The rest of the women and children waited there, so she took me by surprise. She nearly knocked me over as she tried to tear his body from my grasp. She howled with real grief, not formal mourning. Her face streamed with tears. Her nails scratched me before the other women rushed over and pulled her away.
I knew Down was attracted to Fire. What young woman in our band wouldn’t have been? But I hadn’t realized the depth of her feelings. She’d hidden them well—until now.
An immense task lay before us. We’d killed a mammoth. Skinning and butchering it would take at least the rest of the day. Then as much meat as we could gather had to be cooked or smoked.
We’d lost a band member, too. He must be purified and mourned. His corpse had to be prepared and buried right away, before his spirit returned, angry at our failure to draw the mammoth from him.
To complicate matters, Bull Hump had taken an arrow in the neck. One of us had shot wildly in the confusion. Or, worse, maybe one of us hadn’t quite shot accurately. I’d seen Stone pull the arrow from Bull Hump, and heard our Bull’s wounded bellow. I’d heard, too, Takes Risks wondering if the shot had been an accident. Normally, I’d have joined that discussion while treating Bull Hump’s wound at least until Gentle Breeze could see to him. If someone had tried to kill our mighty Bull Hump, then Takes Risks and Stone were definitely targets—our band’s leadership. Not likeable men. Not especially capable men, though the band had prospered most of the time in spite of their deficiencies and the difficulty of our journey.
Things had gone better for us since last winter. This land was rich with game. We’d collected abundant berries and edible roots, shoots, and leaves after spring returned, and so we’d traveled a long way with few hardship
s. No disasters, until Tall Pine and now Hair on Fire. And the wounding of Bull Hump. Until the last few days, our lives had been good enough so even poor leadership would normally go unchallenged. Murder changed that. And murder wasn’t a normal tool for switching leaders.
We were going to be very busy that day. The first of many. Just as well, I thought, that the sun only circled the sky here and our days had turned perpetual. I had no idea when I might sleep again.
***
We cried in the wilderness. We wailed while some skinned the mammoth with sharp blades and began to scrape its hide. We mourned as others butchered the carcass. We wept while we gathered dry wood and animal dung from this nearly treeless land so we could preserve the meat. We shed tears while Bull Hump’s wound was treated and as I carried Hair on Fire downstream to wash the blood off him and pray over his body.
The mourning continued when I made my way back to camp for Fire’s possessions and to find women to help me wrap and stitch him in his skins. Women who’d also help me find and prepare a place to leave his body, then carry it there. Gentle Breeze and Scowl, I’d hoped, previous companions in too many burials and, therefore, ones who knew their roles.
Gentle Breeze still treated the wound at the base of Bull Hump’s neck. From the way he fought her efforts and complained how terribly she hurt him with every touch, I knew he wasn’t badly injured. But he’d keep her busy answering his complaints longer than I could afford to wait.
Stone stopped me as I crossed our temporary camp. “Where are your arrows?”
I shrugged. “I shot them all. Or most. Actually, I think a couple were still in my quiver when I dropped my bow and ran to grab the spear.”
He showed me an arrow, its tip still bloody. “Is this yours?”
The shaft was straight, the arrowhead sharp with skillfully knapped flint. The fletching was well done, too. I preferred duck feathers for mine. These were ptarmigan.
I ignored the implication in his question. “Is this the arrow that wounded Bull Hump?” I twirled it in my fingers. It hadn’t been decorated and I mentioned that to Stone. “It’s a plain hunting arrow. A good one, but nearly any of us could have made it.”
“It’s not yours?” From his tone, I knew he wanted me to claim the arrow and thus solve his problem of who shot Bull Hump.
“Go look for my quiver. It’ll be at the end of the line. You and Bull Hump were only a few paces from me. If I’d shot in your direction, I’d have nearly taken the nose off the man next to me. Ask him where my arrows went. Besides, you know I fletch my arrows with duck feathers and mark them by carving a raven’s claw. That’s what you’ll find in my quiver.”
He knew, but my answers weren’t the ones he wanted. He thought for a moment. Thinking didn’t come easy for Stone. “This arrow matches no one’s. The few who use ptarmigan feathers are all young men. Their arrows are much cruder than this, and they usually paint complex designs on them.”
“So it’s likely,” I said, “that whoever shot Bull Hump did it on purpose.”
From the way Stone raised his eyebrows I could tell he agreed, but hadn’t followed my reasoning.
“The arrow is disguised,” I said. “Plain. Not like any our hunters shot at the mammoth, right?”
He nodded.
“So it wasn’t meant for the beast. It was meant for Bull Hump.”
“Or me,” Stone said. “It whistled past my ear.”
“Or you,” I agreed.
“Shit.” He turned away, probably to go search my quiver.
***
I found Scowl and Down together. The old woman held Down in her arms and comforted her while a cluster of girls hung around. The girls were young, only one of them, Slender Reed, old enough to have bled, and that just for a few moons. They wailed their own laments instead of helping soothe Down. Even Slender Reed didn’t seem as upset as Down.
“Take your grieving elsewhere.” I shooed them away. As they went I suddenly realized how much shorter than Down all of them were. The years fly past for the old, like Scowl and me. We lose track, especially of children. How old was Down? When I did the calculations I realized this was her sixteenth summer. That was late for a woman to come of age. It usually happened by fourteen. Very few girls failed to bleed until their sixteenth year. In fact, I realized, none of the girls I’d just sent away were more than fourteen, not even Slender Reed. Our band had several women younger than Down already raising babies.
“I need help with the burial,” I told Scowl.
She gestured at Down. “I don’t want to leave her in the care of those children.”
I put a hand on Down’s shoulder. “You touched him as I carried him across the river. So you also must be purified. Will you help me bury him?”
Down continued to sob, not answering.
I had to have help. The sun had already passed its high point. Hair on Fire should be in his grave before another day began. There was so much else to do. So I slapped Down. The blow was louder than it was hard. In my experience, slapping a hysterical woman is likely to make things worse, not better, but I was desperate. To my surprise, it shocked Down enough for me to get her attention.
“You cared for him.” I didn’t make it a question. “If you care enough, there’s only one way to do anything for him now.”
Her eyes were swollen with tears, but they looked into mine. “What?” she hiccupped, her voice ragged.
“He must be made ready and then buried. Some preparations require things only his woman can do.” I dropped my voice to a whisper and bent to put my mouth by her ear. “Stone gave him no woman. Perhaps he picked his own. Or you picked him. It doesn’t matter. If you care for him, I need your help.”
She drew an arm across her eyes in an effort to wipe away the tears.
“Tell me what to do.”
I stood and spoke in a normal voice so Scowl could hear. “I want you to go with Scowl. Help gather his things. Choose those that were most precious to him. Meet me downstream where the island ends. Scowl will tell you what else to bring.”
“All right,” she said. “I’ll do as you ask.”
***
I did what I could to make Hair on Fire presentable. After I washed him, I pushed the broken bones in his head around enough to make him recognizable. It helped, but his face remained too flat and his features too twisted.
I washed and hastily purified myself from the mammoth slaying. I had managed to sip a bit of the old cow’s blood and thanked her for it. I’d slit her throat to free her soul. But I should have gotten water from the stream and poured it in her mouth—a last drink before she made her spirit journey and went to live among the stars in the company of The Earth Mother. I hadn’t had the time, so as I prepared the boy’s corpse I spoke to the cow’s memory. Then I cleansed myself in the icy water and brushed the beast’s death from my body with a grass whisk and a pinch of pollen from my medicine pouch.
Down stopped in her tracks the moment she entered the clearing and saw the boy. She dropped the things she carried and began trembling. I thought she might fall and I ran to her, grabbed her by the arms, and turned her face away from him.
“Down, you can mourn him for the rest of your life. Right now, you owe him more. Do you understand?”
She agreed, though the tears came again and I knew it was all she could do to contain her sobs.
Scowl stood and watched, puzzled. “Give me a moment with the girl,” I told the old woman. “Let me calm her. Wait by the body.”
Scowl didn’t argue. She’d helped me with burials often. She wanted to be finished with the job. Her own would come all too soon. She’d rather live the days she had left without reminders of what awaited her.
When the old woman was out of earshot, I spoke to Down again. “I need you to be honest with me. It’s forbidden for a child to be a woman to a man, but you’ve been a woman to the
man the mammoth killed, haven’t you? You lay with him.”
She pulled herself together, threw her shoulders back and faced me without shame. I expected no less.
“I’ve been Fire’s woman, but I’m no child. I had my first bleeding three moons ago.”
“You shouldn’t speak his name.”
“Why not? You don’t hesitate to speak the names of the dead.”
She was clever, this one. Clever enough to hide her bleeding from the band. And fearless enough to admit it to me.
“Have you lain with others?” I asked. “And what about Slender Reed? I’ve heard the two of them enjoyed each other’s company even after she became Tall Pine’s woman.”
Not that either question mattered at the moment. Except to me, because I needed to trust her if I planned to continue helping her become our next healer, and possibly, my apprentice.
“No,” she said. “I haven’t lain with other men. As I grew up, I touched boys and they touched me, but you know all the children do that. As for Slender Reed…of course that troubled me, but I thought I could make him like me better. I hoped he’d decide to be my man.”
“Becoming an adult gives you new rights and responsibilities. Why did you hide it?”
“After my father gave Slender Reed to Tall Pine instead of Fire, I decided I wanted Fire for myself. So I asked my father to let me have Fire as soon as my time came. My time was just beginning then, but I hid it in case Stone refused. That’s what he did. He told me my choice might weaken his ability to remain headman of our band. He said he’d give me to someone who supported or strengthened him, or maybe someone from another band. If he traded me for another band’s woman, some stranger, he’d give her to Fire. My father thought the band would take a long time accepting a new woman, one they didn’t already know, and that might offset Fire’s popularity. I told him what I thought of the idea and he threatened to just give me to Walks Like Ox.”
Walks Like Ox was well named. Big, slow, dull, very strong, and a little cruel. I understood why Down’s reaction to the prospect had been dismay. The threat of being traded and becoming a stranger in a strange band wouldn’t have appealed either.