by Jack L Knapp
Neither approach was suitable for a single lion attacking an alert animal, one with a head protected by spikes.
The stag’s head was low, antlers forward and spikes slightly raised. As the lioness sprang, the head swept strongly up and rammed several of the long spikes into her body. She squalled in pain as she spun away. Landing on her side, the lioness scrambled to regain her footing.
The stag-moose now revealed his alternate weapons. He reared up and came down on the lioness, both front legs stiff, his considerable weight behind them. Ribs broke with a crunch and the lioness squalled again.
The stag had been clawed during the attack, although I hadn’t seen it happen. Still, he was bleeding. Infuriated, he reared up and landed on her again, then a third time.
This time the lioness made no sound. There was little left from shoulders to haunches that didn’t show evidence of those killing hooves and antlers.
I glanced at Lilia. She was switching her attention between watching me and the end of the drama below. I made a sudden decision. We were in a tree, no other lion had joined the fight, and the stag couldn’t climb.
I didn’t have time to explain. I simply glanced at Lilia in her tree, and then pulled back my bow. I released the nocked arrow and reached for another.
I fitted it over the bowstring as Lilia’s arrow thumped into the animal’s side, behind the shoulder. I could see my own arrow, a bit higher than Lilia’s. I planted my second arrow slightly behind that first one. Only a few inches of shaft projected to show where my arrows had struck. The bow had lost some power, but clearly enough remained; it was still an effective weapon.
Lilia might have hit the heart, my two arrows were into the lungs. The stag stood now, front legs wide-spread, head hanging, back slightly humped. Lilia put another arrow into the neck, just forward of the shoulder.
The dying animal folded and the front legs collapsed. It looked for a moment as if it might be lying down to sleep. The hind leg kicked twice, the anus and bladder relaxed.
Lilia made the first mistake I’d seen from her; she gathered her equipment, preparing to climb down.
I hissed to get her attention and called low-voiced, “Not yet. Give it a moment to see what happens.”
We sat in our trees and waited. The quiet of the forest gradually gave way to the buzz of insects and the distant chatter of a small animal. Finally, deciding it was safe, I eased cautiously down. I was waiting, weapons ready, when Lilia reached the ground.
“Thank you for the warning, Matt. It was safer to wait. I should have remembered that, but I thought of all that meat and I got impatient.”
“That stag was too eager, Lilia. He forgot to keep watching for danger. I didn’t want us to make the same mistake.”
“You watch for now, Matt. I do this.”
Lilia glanced at where the bright arterial blood from the stag’s nostrils had clotted. She tugged at the antlers, rolling the big animal over on its side. I helped her before resuming my post, on guard.
She rapidly opened the body cavity to let the blood drain. A few deft cuts freed the internal organs, and she paused after removing them to let the carcass begin cooling.
“Take a break, Lilia. You get your weapons and watch, I’ll get a travois ready.”
I cut and trimmed the pieces I needed, assembled the travois, and dragged it back to the animal. I attached the tump-line as before, now improved by a stitched sleeve of rabbit fur where the strap crossed the crown of my head.
I took over watching; dead animals attract scavengers like bare skin attracts mosquitos. Lilia went back to work, skinning the carcass but leaving two flaps of skin attached along the spine. We quartered the carcass, then freed the hide from the final attachments. Tying it in place on the travois, we loaded as much meat as I could carry, then folded the remaining hide over to protect the meat.
The rest would be left to the forest to take care of. Scavengers would appreciate the bounty; we couldn’t get the rest of the meat back and preserve it before it spoiled.
Drying and smoking was our only way of preserving the excess; even so, the meat wouldn’t last more than a few weeks. It would keep longer after the weather turned cool, but by then there might be fewer animals to hunt.
Before the development of refrigeration, people named winter the hungry time with good reason.
I’d have given a lot for an uptime freezer and someplace to plug it in! For that matter, I’d love to have a big-bore rifle, and a gun-bearer, and enough porters to haul everything around. Someone to set up the camp and pour me a drink of real, smoky tasting scotch while I sat and watched the sun go down. Yeah.
Those things were fading memories; I would never taste scotch again. I had a momentary glimpse of my future, a constant struggle without respite to provide food, shelter, and protection. There would be few luxuries in that future.
I still had a strong will to survive, but how long would that last? Would events slowly erode my determination? Would I lose my concentration at a critical time?
How long would it be before I met the same fate as this stag?
I killed that I might eat. It gave me a feel of exultation, winning the contest of life and death, but regret always followed. We killed to live, but necessity didn’t take away the realization that we’d taken a life to preserve our own.
Well. I was tired already and I would be more tired when I got back. I shook off the morbid philosophy and got on with the task.
We’d killed the stag, but he’d been no Bambi; he’d killed the lion before we killed him.
Lions will attack a Cape buffalo, but only if the entire pride is available. One lion stood little chance of bringing down such a huge animal and it might well die in the attempt. Even a cow moose can drive a grizzly from her calf.
No; this had been no tame grazer. Downtime memories were better not dwelt on; I didn’t live in that time, not now. The land was different here, the animals were decidedly different, and many of them were dangerous. To forget was to suddenly become dead.
We had the best quarters of meat lashed down protected by the hide. As a final act, I used my axe to break off a section of antler. The hard bone would be useful.
I picked up the travois and Lilia adjusted the tump-strap. Leaning into the weight, I headed for home.
#
I took frequent breaks to drink, but even so I got thirsty. Both of us were still bloodstained when we came to the stream. We took turns, one in the water, one watching for danger and guarding the meat. I soon had the worst of the dried blood off. I also drank and refilled my gourd.
Lilia without her clothes was…interesting.
She could decide when, if, she was ready to move on after the loss of her man. I appreciated the view, but still kept most of my attention on our surroundings.
Perhaps she enjoyed the view while I bathed.
I washed as quickly as possible, brushing the water off as I left the stream. Clothes back on, I resumed dragging the travois.
We didn’t talk about the bathing. It was a natural thing to do, we did it, and anyway we didn’t talk more than necessary while away from the cabin.
Even in the cabin there wasn’t very much to talk about. Immediate plans, occasionally thoughts of what we might do in future, those things we discussed. Our usual conversation was about what we’d done during the day, sometimes a report of an unusual or interesting thing that had happened, and we talked while we worked. The women might be grinding grain, I might be knapping a new point or crafting an arrow; there was never a shortage of tasks.
The theatre, doings of celebrities, new developments in music or entertainment, books, the topics common downtime...yeah, right. We weren’t going back to those things. And the constant need to work didn’t permit the kind of idleness that needs conversation to pass the time anyway.
Medieval peasants had lived much as we did now. Wake, breakfast, work, perhaps a short break at noon, but often enough, simply continue working. Break for supper, then do small chores
until it was too dark to see, sleep, get up tomorrow and do it all over again. At least, peasants had an occasional holiday and an enforced day of idleness on weekends. We didn't have that luxury.
Maybe we could take a day’s holiday, if we could build up a reserve of food and firewood and arrows…
We reached the cabin late that afternoon.
Chapter 19
"The bear attack means we can't leave, at least not before spring. We'd have had to travel light, move fast, and even after we found a good location, we'd have had to build a shelter and collect supplies before winter. It would have been tough, even with all of us healthy. Now, Lee will have to regain his strength after his arm heals. We've got to spend the winter here.
"It's going to get cold. Winters are probably harsh; the Futurist told me he was transplanting me to an Earth at the end of the ice age, the Pleistocene.
“We've got a problem. We’re going to need massive amounts of wood and we’re also going to have to store a lot of food, enough to last for at least four months. That means harvest everything we can gather. We’ll eat what we need and dry the excess. We've also got to preserve meat, which means we'll need more salt.
"Animals are scarce. The last trip was successful, but only because we hunted a long way from here. The hunt was successful, then we had to leave almost half the carcass behind.
“Someone has to stay with Lee. After he’s able to take better care of himself we can all hunt, but not yet. So three of us will go on the next hunt.
“After that, I've got to cut firewood. It's going to be nearly impossible. The small axe isn’t suited for that, the handle’s too short, the blade’s too light. It’s better than nothing but it’s meant for gathering limbs, not cutting trees. There’s already a nick in the blade too, from chopping through bone. The Futurists got too creative; the best axe would have been a heavy single-bitted axe with a long handle, something twice the weight of the one they gave me. It should also have been soft steel with a harder edge, not the pattern-welded steel they used. I’m guessing that no one there has used an axe for centuries. They knew that the best knives and swords are made of pattern-welded steel, wootz or Damascus as some call it, and thought the axe should be made from that too.
“Maybe the Futurist made a trade-off; the camp axe he gave me is handy for carrying and doing light tasks but not for chopping trees. A saw would have been better.”
"Matt, what is a saw?"
"It's a blade for cutting things. It's like the swords we captured, but it has sharp projections called teeth along the edge. It cuts by sliding back and forth through wood. Even a small one would be helpful..."
Lee interrupted, “Would you be interested in a large saw? I saw things such as you've described and an axe that is larger than the one you have. They are hanging in an open shed at the mine. Maybe the miners use them.”
I muttered something under my breath.
“I'll have to steal those, but not right now; I need to finish my bow first. But that should only take another day or two; the shaping is done, all I have to do now is glue sinew along the back to give it additional draw weight.
“There's always more to do,” commented Lilia.
Sandra and Millie nodded agreement.
Neither had said much while we discussed our situation. I wondered if they were unhappy about changing from owners of the cabin, totally in charge, to being two among five. And for that matter, two who appeared to have less ability and less knowledge to contribute than the rest of us. Hopefully, it would work itself out; there was no going back to the way things had been, not now.
“For every need it seems like there’s a solution, but the solution then opens up five more needs that have to be met,” Sandra said. “How would you steal the tools without the guards noticing? Even if you aren’t killed during the raid, how could you escape without leading them back here?”
“You're right, Sandra, I would have to be careful. We can’t outfight them, there's not enough of us for that, and you’re also right about not letting them follow us. If I can get a head start, I can discourage pursuit.”
“How would you do that?” This came from Millie.
She looked worried. I had been their only support until Lee and Lilia arrived. There had also been those other activities; no, they wouldn't want to lose me.
I hoped.
“Mantraps. If they’re competent trackers, they'll know there were at most one or two people on the raid so they won't be worried. I'll put traps along the escape route, things like snares, spiked deadfalls, shallow pits with sharpened stakes. The traps will slow them down.
“I'll leave a trail away from the cabin, just enough to lead the pursuers into the traps, then change direction. We can circle back to the cabin after making certain no one is following me.
“The traps won’t stop them, but they'll have to slow down. Even if they keep coming, they'll be following a false trail. I'm hoping that will discourage them.
"Anyway, we don’t have a choice; I've got to have the tools.
“The raid will take at least a week. I’ll have to find a place to put the traps, then mark the locations. A full moon will help. We’ll be able to see the markers and it will also encourage the guards to run into the traps.
“I'll need a place to break my trail. I'll set a few traps past that point so they'll keep thinking that’s where I’ve gone. That will give me time to hide my tracks.
“After I get the tools, we cut all the wood we can. We've used it for cooking but when winter sets in, we'll need to keep the fireplace going all the time to keep the cabin warm.
"We’ll need to hunt, but that can be done after the first cold spell. Trapping will provide meat for daily use but we need more and bigger skins. We'll need fat too.
"We've got to have warm clothing. Deerskins won't be enough, but maybe wih parkas they'll work. We'll also need thick furs for bedding. We might even take a few bears."
"Matt, you're not seriously proposing to hunt one of those short-faced bears!"
"Lilia, the bears will have thick fur and a lot of fat. Short-faced bear, black bear, grizzly, if we can trap one, we stay out of its reach and kill it with arrows. I'm thinking of a pit trap; it would be work, but it could be done. The reward is worth the chance.
"For now, we can make stag-moose skins into leather boots. The skin’s thick enough, it should last through the winter. We can line the boots with rabbit-fur or fur-felt for added warmth.
"After the first snow, we’ll haul meat on sleds. We can transport more meat and move faster, plus the meat will keep. Tracking through snow is easier too.
“Cold weather and snow are helpful in another way. Bears hibernate, even the big short-faced ones. I don’t know about the big cats, but they probably will migrate south.
"Our main danger will be from wolves, because they’re well adapted to the cold. The bison won’t move as long as they can find graze, even under the snow, the deer might stay around too. They browse on branch tips, so they can find food for some time. The wolves will prey on the bison herds, picking off stragglers and weak animals. We'll have to be careful; I wouldn’t want to fight a pack of wolves for a kill!”
#
As it happened, the plan worked, but not perfectly. Three of us went on the raid, Sandra remained to care for Lee.
Lilia had her bow, Millie had my old one, both had quivers of arrows. The weakened bow was better suited to Millie’s strength now. I had my new heavy bow and stiffer arrows.
Lee had put me on the right track; he had more experience using a bow than I had. My accuracy improved after I began using the stiffer arrows as he suggested. Even with his injuries, he helped.
The two women established a rudimentary camp, away from the trail, and began planting simple pit traps. Some were in the trail, others alongside it; if they decided to avoid the path, the side traps would discourage them.
This was our basic system and we repeated it every few yards.
I would leave fairly
obvious tracks until just before the traps, then walk westward along a downed log to break my trail. After circling, I would join the other two and we would head east for home.
Our modified plan left Millie waiting where I planned to leave the trail. Lilia would go straight for the temporary camp, I would lay the final trail while brushing out any sign she made. Millie and would watch for followers until we were sure they weren’t coming. If necessary, we could launch an arrow or two and force pursuers to take cover while we escaped.
Lilia would go with me, then wait at the edge of the forest while I sneaked in to do my grab-and-go.
#
There was a sentry.
He was sitting by a small fire, not very alert. I watched for an hour, but saw no one else.
I finally decided to go ahead; it was that or abandon the raid. That wasn’t an option; we had to have that axe, hopefully a saw as well, so too bad for the dozy watchman.
I would sneak in as close as possible, Lilia would shoot the guard, then I would finish him before he could sound an alarm.
I closed to within five yards, then faced Lilia and nodded. She punched an arrow into the sentry’s chest. As he straightened in shock, I grabbed him, my hand across his mouth.
My knife, still sharp, sliced through his throat. Carotid arteries squirted and he gasped for air; I held him upright while he died, lowered him to the ground, then took his short sword before rejoining Lilia.
We waited, but nothing moved. There was no alarm, no sound. The dead sentry lay on his side; the others might think him asleep.
I left the captured sword with Lilia. She already had my bow and arrows; I hadn’t needed them to finish the sentry and I wouldn’t need them to get into the tool shed.
The shed was a treasure trove! I took an axe, a saw, a file, and a shovel. There were other tools, and I hated to leave them, but we might find ourselves running for our lives.