by Barbara Wood
Seeing what had happened, Tall One went to the dismayed Old Mother, making crooning noises and stroking her hair. Old Mother was the oldest member of the Family, although no one knew exactly how old since the Family did not reckon by years or seasons. If anyone had counted, they would know she had reached the advanced age of fifty-five. Tall One, on the other hand, had lived for fifteen summers, and she knew vaguely that she was the daughter of a female Old Mother had birthed.
Watching Lion as he circled the camp before settling down into his nest-bed, Tall One felt a nameless unease fill her. It had to do with Old Mother and how defenseless she was. A dim recollection came to the young female’s mind: her own mother, having broken a leg, was left behind when she could no longer walk, a lone figure sitting against the trunk of a thorn tree, watching the Family move on. The group could not be burdened with a weak member, for the predators were ever watchful in the tall grass. When the Family passed that way again, they had found no trace of Tall One’s mother.
Finally everyone began to settle down for the night, mothers and children curling up together in their nest-beds, the males on the other side of the fire, finding comfortable spots, lying back to back for warmth, tossing and turning to the sounds of growls and barks nearby in the darkness. Unable to sleep, Tall One left the nest-bed she shared with Old Mother and made her way cautiously to the water. A short distance away she saw that a small herd of elephants—all females with their young—had gone to sleep for the night, slumbering in the manner peculiar to elephants: by leaning against a tree or one another. When she reached the water’s edge she looked at the surface of the pond covered in thick volcanic ash. Then she looked up at the stars slowly being devoured by smoke and she tried again to understand the turmoil in her mind.
It had to do with the new danger.
She looked back at the camp where seventy-odd humans were settling down for the night. Already, snores rose up to the sky, and nocturnal grunts and sighs. She recognized the moans and gasps of a pair engaged in sexual release. A baby wailed and was quickly hushed. The unmistakable sound of Nostril belching. And the noisy yawns of the males guarding the perimeter with spears and torches to protect the Family through the night. They all seemed unconcerned; for them, life was going on as it always had. But Tall One was troubled. Only she sensed that the world was not right.
But in what way? Lion was leading the Family to all the ancestral places where they had roamed for generations. They found the food they had always found; they even found water where it was supposed to be, albeit covered in ash. There was security and survival in sameness. Change frightened the Family. The concept of change never even entered their minds.
But now it was beginning to—at least in the mind of one young member.
Tall One’s dark brown eyes scanned the night, watching for any suspicious movement. Ever alert, her guard never down, Tall One lived as the Family lived, by wit and instinct and a strong sense of survival. But tonight was different, as the past few nights had been, ever since the sense of a new danger had been born within her. A danger she could neither see nor name. One that left no spoor or prints, that did not growl or hiss, that possessed neither fang nor claw, yet which made the small hairs on the back of her neck stand up.
She searched the stars and saw how they were being gobbled by smoke. She saw the ash raining down from the sky. She surveyed the soot-covered water and inhaled the stench of sulfur and magma from the distant volcano. She saw the way the grasses bent in the night wind, how the trees leaned, and which way dried leaves flew. And suddenly, with a leap of her heart, she understood.
Tall One held her breath and froze as the nameless menace took shape in her mind and she grasped all in a staggering instant what no other family member had grasped: that tomorrow’s water hole—despite what generations of experience had shown them—was going to be covered with ash.
A shriek tore the night
Weasel, in the grip of birth pains. The females quickly helped her away from the camp and into the secrecy of the trees. The males didn’t follow but instead jumped nervously to the periphery of the camp, clutching their crude spears and collecting stones that might be thrown at predators. As soon as the big cats and hyenas heard the cry of a vulnerable human being, and smelled the blood of birth, they would come. The human females instinctively formed a circle around Weasel, facing outward, yelling and stamping their feet to cover up Weasel’s cries of pain and defenselessness.
She had no help. Clutching the trunk of an acacia, Weasel squatted and pushed, laboring hard while in the grip of cold terror. Above the screams of her female companions, had she heard the triumphant roar of a lion? Were a pack of cats about to fly through the trees, fangs and claws and yellow eyes, to tear her to pieces?
Finally the baby came and Weasel immediately brought it up to her breast, shaking and stroking it until it cried. Old Mother knelt beside her and massaged Weasel’s abdomen, as she had done to herself and her daughters over the years, coaxing the placenta to be delivered swiftly. And when that, too, was born and the females hastily buried the blood and the afterbirth, the Family gathered around the new mother to look in curiosity at the squirming creature at her breast.
Suddenly, Barren pushed through and snatched the suckling infant from Weasel’s arms. The females ran after her, hurling rocks. Barren dropped the baby but the females kept after her until she was caught. They tore branches from trees and beat her with them, mercilessly, not stopping until the bloody form at their feet was unrecognizable. When they were certain Barren no longer breathed, they returned to the camp with the baby that was, miraculously, still alive.
Lion decreed that the Family must move on, quickly. Barren’s corpse and the birthing blood would attract the dangerous scavengers, particularly the vultures who could be determined and fearless. So they broke camp even though it was still night and, armed with torches, made their way across the open plain. As they trekked beneath the full moon, they heard behind them the animals rush in and growl savagely as they tore Barren’s body to pieces.
Another dawn, and light ash continued to sift down from the sky.
The humans began to stir, waking to noisy birdsong and the chatter of monkeys in the trees. Watching for predators now that the periphery fires had burned out, they made their way to the water hole where zebras and gazelles tried in vain to drink. The water could not be seen for the thick coating of soot that lay upon its surface. But the humans, able to scoop away the volcanic fallout with their hands, found water below, albeit gritty and foul tasting. While the others began to dig for eggs and shellfish, and search the shallows for frogs and turtles and lily roots, Tall One turned her eyes to the west, where the smoking mountain stood against a sky still dark with night.
The stars could not be seen for the great clouds of smoke that billowed out in all directions. Turning, she squinted at the eastern horizon, which was turning pale and where the sun would soon appear. There the sky was clear and fresh, the last stars still visible. She looked back at the mountain and experienced again the revelation of the night before when, for the first time in the history of her people, she had taken separate parts of an equation and fitted them together in an answer: the mountain was spewing smoke…the wind was blowing eastward…therefore contaminating water holes in its path.
She tried to tell the others, tried to find words and gestures that would convey the essence of this new peril. But Lion, acting only on instinct and ancestral memory, knowing nothing of the concept of cause and effect but understanding only that the world had always been one way and would always be so, could not make such a mental leap. What had the mountain and the wind to do with water? Taking up his crude spear he gave the command that the Family move on.
Tall One stood her ground. “Bad!” she said desperately, pointing westward. “Bad!” Then she gestured frantically eastward, where the sky was clear and where she knew the water would be clean. “Good! We go!”
Lion looked at the others. But their face
s were blank because they had no idea what Tall One was trying to say. Why change what they had always done?
And so they abandoned camp once again and started their daily foraging while watching the sky for vultures, which could mean a carcass and the possibility of long bones filled with tasty marrow. Lion and the stronger males shook trees to bring down nuts and fruit, and seedpods that would be roasted later in the fire. The females crouched over termite hills, inserting twigs to draw out the fat insects and eat them. The children busied themselves with a nest of honey ants, carefully biting off the swollen nectar-filled abdomens while avoiding the ants’ sharp mandibles. With the food coming in such meager portions, foraging never ceased. Only rarely did they come upon a newly dead beast not yet discovered by hyenas and vultures, and the humans would strip off the hide and gorge themselves on meat.
Tall One walked with dread: The water will be worse ahead.
Toward midday she climbed a small hillock and, shading her eyes, scanned the lion-yellow savanna. When she immediately started calling and flapping her arms the others knew she had found a clutch of ostrich eggs. The humans approached cautiously, espying the large bird guarding the nest. The black and white feathers told them it was a male, which was unusual, as it was normally the brown females that sat on the nest during the day, while the males sat on it at night. This one looked huge and dangerous. They kept a lookout for the female, who certainly must be nearby and who would be just as lethal defending her nest.
Lion gave a shout and Hungry, Lump, Scorpion, Nostril, and all the other males went running at the ostrich with sticks and clubs, yelling and hooting and making as much noise as possible. The giant bird flew up off the nest with a great flapping of its wings and confronted the intruders, chest feathers standing out, its neck extended forward as it attacked with its beak, kicking with its powerful legs. Then the mate appeared, an enormous brown menace racing across the plain at top speed, her wings outspread, her neck extended forward, her call high and screeching.
While Lion and the males kept the birds engaged, Tall One and the other females gathered as many eggs as they could and sprinted away. Reaching a clump of trees, they immediately began to crack open the enormous eggs and gobble the contents. When Lion and his companions came breathlessly back, having left two distraught ostriches to fret over a destroyed nest, they grabbed their share, hammering at the thick-shelled eggs to make holes, then scooping out yolk and white with their fingers. A few shouted with delight when they found ostrich chicks in their eggs, and popped the wriggling and squirming creatures into their mouths. Tall One took an egg to Old Mother, cracked open the top and placed it in the elder’s hands. When she was certain Old Mother had eaten enough, Tall One finally sat back to eat the last egg she had saved. But no sooner had she cracked it open than Lion loomed over her. He snatched the egg from her and upended it into his mouth, swallowing the enormous yolk in one noisy gulp. Then he tossed the empty eggshell aside and seized her, turned her over onto her knees and holding her wrists with one hand and pressing her neck down with the other, thrust himself inside her while she howled in protest.
When he was done, he shambled off for a nap, looking for the nicest piece of shade. He came to the best spot only to find Scorpion defiantly sitting with his back to the tree. A raised fist and a roar from Lion, a brief clash of wills, and Scorpion sulked resentfully away.
At midday they slept, when the savanna was peaceful. A pride of lions lounged in the sun not far off, but the remains of a kill nearby—which was being finished off by vultures and which the humans had no interest in, themselves being full—told Tall One’s people that the cats had recently fed and therefore posed no threat. While the Family dozed, Tall One rummaged through the shattered eggshells, hoping to find remnants of yolk and white. But worse than her hunger was her thirst. Once again she observed the smoke clouds in the sky and sensed that the farther they went in that direction, the worse the water was going to be.
The smoking mountain had gone to sleep, its plume of cinder and ash dwindling so that the air had cleared a little. After days of subsisting on roots and wild onions and the rare nest of eggs, the humans were now craving meat. They followed a mixed herd of antelope and zebra, knowing that the big cats would be doing the same. When the herd paused to graze, Nostril climbed a grassy hillock to stand lookout while the others crouched hidden in the grass.
Through the stillness of the morning, as the day warmed and the earth began to bake, the humans watched and waited. Finally, patience was rewarded. They saw a lioness moving stealthily through the grass. The humans knew how she would hunt: since most animals could run faster than a lion she would stay upwind, undetected, and creep closer to the grazing beasts until she was in range to outrun her prey.
Tall One, Old Mother, Baby, Hungry, and the rest crouched motionless, their eyes on Nostril as he marked the progress of the cat. Suddenly she shot forward, sending startled birds to flight. The herd bolted. But the lioness was swift, running only a short course before catching up with a lame zebra. She flew into the air and sliced a massive paw across its flank, sending the animal onto its side. As the zebra struggled to get up, the lioness was upon it, clamping her jaws over its muzzle and holding it there until, gradually, the beast suffocated to death. As the lioness dragged her kill toward the shade of a baobab tree, the humans followed—upwind and silently. They squatted down again when they saw the pride of males and cubs rush forward for the feast. The air was filled briefly with savage growls and hisses as the lions fought each other before settling down to devour the carcass. Overhead, the vultures were already circling.
With stomachs growling and mouths salivating with anticipation of meat, Tall One’s family waited patiently, hidden, watching. Even the children knew that silence was crucial, that it meant the difference between eating and being eaten. The afternoon grew long, shadows lengthened, the only sounds on the breeze the greedy feeding of the big cats. Nostril’s back and legs ached. Hungry desperately wanted to scratch his armpits. Flies settled on bare skin and bit ferociously. But the humans didn’t move. They knew that their opportunity would come.
The sun dipped to the horizon. Several children started to fret and cry, but by now the cats were too full to care as they shambled away from the shredded carcass for a long nap. The humans watched as the black-maned males loped away, yawning, following by fat little cubs with bloodied muzzles. Once the lions had thrown themselves beneath the baobab tree, the vultures moved in. Nostril and Hungry looked to Lion for the signal, and when he gave it, they all rushed forward, screaming and throwing stones at the vultures. But the giant birds, driven by a hunger of their own, would not give up the prize. Spreading their massive wings, they fought beak and talon to protect what was theirs.
The humans were forced to retreat, hungry and tired, a few bloodied from the encounter with the vultures.
They squatted again in the grass, this time listening for the hyenas and wild dogs that would inevitably come scavenging. After a brief twilight, night fell and the vultures continued to feast. Tall One ran a hand over her parched lips. Her stomach cramped with hunger pangs. Honey-Finder’s babies wailed in protest. And still the humans waited.
Finally, as an effulgent moon lifted above the horizon, casting the landscape in a milky glow, the vultures flew off, gorged from their meal. Brandishing spears and howling at the tops of their lungs, the humans managed to keep the hyenas away from what was left of the zebra—little more than hide and bone. They worked swiftly, using sharp hand axes to hack the zebra’s legs from its body. With their trophies over their heads, the humans ran off, allowing the hyenas to rush in to finish off tendon, ligament, and hair.
Within a protective stand of trees, Fire-Maker began at once creating fires to keep predators away. Lion and other strong men got to work stripping the skin from the zebra legs, and when they were clean, cracked the bones open swiftly and expertly to expose the precious creamy pink marrow within. Their mouths watering, the humans moaned and s
ighed at such a sight, and instantly their long hours of vigil in the grass, their painful joints and aching limbs, were forgotten. There was no feeding frenzy of the marrow. Lion apportioned the fatty delicacy out, and this time everyone received a share, even Old Mother.
Tall One tried again to protest the direction they were taking and this time Lion gave her the back of his hand, sending her rolling over the ground. Gathering up the children and babies and their few possessions, the Family started again to move westward. Old Mother came to Tall One’s aid, making soothing sounds as she patted her granddaughter’s angry cheek.
As they started to trek, breathing in the smoky volcanic air, Old Mother suddenly moaned and clutched her chest. Her steps faltered as she fought for breath. Tall One had her by the arm, holding her up. They went a few more steps when Old Mother finally let out a cry and collapsed. The others glanced at her but kept walking, their concern only for food. They watched for termite hills and berry patches, for nut-bearing trees and that rarest of all treats, a beehive. But they gave no thought to Old Mother who had given birth to half their mothers. Only Tall One cared as she tried to help the elder to walk, ultimately hoisting Old Mother onto her shoulders and carrying her. As the equatorial sun rose, the burden grew. Finally, after a strenuous trek Tall One, for all her stature and strength, could no longer carry Old Mother.
They slumped to the ground and the Family, forced to stop, milled around in indecision. Lion knelt over the unconscious female and sniffed her face. He tapped Old Mother’s cheeks and pried open her mouth. Then he saw the closed eyes and blue lips. “Hmp,” he grunted. “Dead,” he pronounced, meaning that she was as good as dead. He stood up. “We go.”
Some of the females started wailing. Others whimpered in fear. Honey-Finder stamped her feet and waved her arms and made mournful sounds. Big Nose gathered his unconscious mother into his arms and wept over her. Lump sat at Old Mother’s side and tugged at her hands. The small children, terrified by the actions of the adults, started to cry. But Lion, taking up his spears and club, turned his back on the group and began to march resolutely westward. One by one they followed until the whole band was gone, the stragglers looking back as Tall One stayed by Old Mother.