Lug, Dawn of the Ice Age

by David Zeltser

  She snuggled deeper into Woolly’s fur. “When Crazy Crag invited you up there … were you tempted to go?”

  “Do I look crazy to you?”

  She didn’t reply.

  “He just jumped out of nowhere, cackled something about beasts and storm light, and told me to come up for a visit.”

  We stared some more at the falling snow and the strange flickering cave. “So I guess you know the legend about him?” she asked.

  “You mean the part about how he can turn his hands into bolts of storm light and strike down anyone who comes near him?”

  “Yes,” she said, “that part.”

  “That’s why we won’t be stopping by his place anytime soon,” I replied.

  Then I pointed up the mountain and Woolly charged up another long stretch of steep slope. He seemed very much at home in the snow—as if he’d been made for moving through it.

  As we crested the peak of Mount Bigbigbig, I looked out over the vista to the north. The most astounding sight met my eyes. An enormous herd of strange beasts was slowly making its way toward the mountain across the great white snow-covered plain below. It was like watching an entire ant colony on the move, although from their gait these appeared to be large hoofed creatures. There were several other immense herds farther back, but I couldn’t tell much about them at this distance. Then I noticed some closer but smaller packs of animals. I could make out some lumbering giant slothlike beasts, which seemed to periodically rear up on two legs. Just in front of them were shaggy creatures sporting antlers like upturned giants’ hands. I glanced over at Woolly and followed his gaze to a herd of woolly mammoths that was just starting to lumber up the north slope of the mountain.

  Woolly flapped his ears, lifted his trunk, and trumpeted jubilantly.

  “It’s his family!” cried Echo.

  I patted Woolly’s head. “I’m happy for you,” I whispered to him.

  “Lug!” said Echo. “Look in that grove.” She pointed to a dark stand of dead trees behind the mammoth herd.

  I followed her finger, squinting, until I saw movement. And there they were, among the twisted tree trunks, a huge pride of saber-toothed tigers slinking their way through the shadows. “Stone it!” I muttered. “That’s a lot of cats.”

  “Lug, do you have any idea what’s going on here?”

  “I’m not sure,” I said. “But I think all these creatures are following the cold snow from the north.”

  “But … why would anyone follow the cold?”

  I touched Woolly’s thick shaggy hair. “Remember how warm it was sleeping next to him?”

  She nodded.

  “Now imagine if your entire body was completely covered by hair like that.”

  “How charming,” she muttered. “I … guess I’d be too hot.”

  “Right,” I said. “You’d be too hot, unless—”

  “Unless it was getting colder and colder!”

  “Exactly. And all these northern creatures have thick coats. I think they can only live where it’s cold.”

  She looked out over the great snow-covered northern plain. “So … as the cold spreads from north to south … it opens up new foraging territory for them?”

  “Or, if you’re a meat eater, new hunting grounds.”

  “Right,” she said. “And if there aren’t any people around, the cats won’t need to compete with us for boars … or caves to shelter in—”

  “Or jungle llamas,” I said, suddenly remembering. “The day before Stony and I were banished, a macrauchenia mysteriously disappeared from our village stable. Everyone blamed it on your clan, but I’d bet anything it was Smilus.”

  Woolly slowly knelt on the ground—a signal for us to dismount. We did so and found ourselves ankle deep in the snow.

  “Hey … Woolly?” said Echo. “Woolly!”

  But he was already barreling down the hillside.

  We watched him run as the saber-toothed cats crept toward his herd.

  “He’s going to warn his family,” she said.

  I nodded. “We’d better do the same.”

  TRAVEL IS MUCH slower when you don’t have a mammoth, but we did manage to get down the mountainside before dark. The snow had not yet reached the base of the mountain, and Echo ran for her village as I raced to pick up Stony and Hamhock.

  “What happened here?” I cried, seeing both boys sprawled on the floor of the red cavern.

  “Bonehead,” said Hamhock, sitting up against the wall and gingerly rubbing his backside.

  Stony sat up and grunted in agreement. He had a nasty bruise around his unibrow.

  “I can’t believe this!” I shouted. “Boulder promised they’d leave us alone if we left the village.”

  “But me didn’t,” said Bonehead, suddenly darkening the entrance. He was still gripping the club my father had given me.

  “What do you want from us?” I cried.

  He grinned and pointed out of the cave. Behind him, Boulder was leading the men of the Macrauchenia Rider Council toward us.

  I strode out of the cave and waved at the councilmen. “I’m glad you’re all here,” I declared. “I’ve got some really important news, and—”

  I stopped talking and looked around. They were all eyeing me suspiciously.

  “What?” I asked.

  Boulder stepped forward. “You tell us, Loony Lug.”

  “Loony …? What? Right now—as we squabble like dodos—there are giant cats making their way toward our village.”

  A few councilmen snickered.

  I swallowed my pride and continued. “There are all kinds of beasts migrating this way, following the cold. There’s a great storm of white flakes coming.”

  “Uh-oh,” said Boulder to the councilmen, “Loony Lug is at it again!”

  The laughter spread.

  “Climb the mountain and see for yourselves!” I said.

  The laughs turned to gasps.

  “So,” said Boulder, looming over me, “you broke our law and climbed our sacred mountain!”

  I took a deep breath. “Why is only the mountain sacred?” I asked.

  Boulder’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

  “Why isn’t the ground we’re standing on sacred too? We couldn’t live without it.”

  “What are you babbling about, Loony?”

  “I’m saying that everything in our jungle is sacred, including us, and we need to protect ourselves before it’s too late. The giant cat that attacked Bugeyes said that if—” I stopped again. I could see that no one believed a word I was saying.

  Boulder pointed at the drawing of Smilus attacking Bugeyes. “Did the ‘giant cat’ make this?” he asked sarcastically.

  “No,” I said. “Woolly did.”

  “Woolly?” The Big Man sneered. “And did Woolly paint your secret art cave?” he asked, pointing at the fingerlike outcropping in the distance.

  I stared at him, speechless. I had never told anyone about my art cave. How did Boulder know?

  Then I saw Bonehead’s smug little smile. “Me saw Little Slug crawl in,” he said. “Me follow.”

  “I thought I heard a rat,” I said.

  “Me tell everyone,” he said, his smile growing.

  From the looks on the men’s faces, I had a feeling that they had gone in and seen all my paintings—each one a violation of clan law. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

  But instead of feeling small and ashamed, I remembered how the painting of my family had started my friendship with Woolly. And how the mammoth’s last drawing had revealed Bugeyes’s attacker. I thought about everything art had taught me—observation, focus, persistence, even courage. How creating something new with my hands had always sent shivers down my spine. I opened my eyes and looked back at the men. “I’m a cave painter,” I said. “And no law is going to change that.”

  They stared at me in silence.

  “And no law,” I continued, “should prevent us from joining together to try to survive the big changes coming.�
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  Frogface stepped forward from the group of councilmen. “If what you’re saying were true, we would have to change everything,” he said.

  I nodded hopefully.

  “So you’re obviously nuts!” he concluded.

  “Crazy as Crag!” declared Boulder.

  The other councilmen began to nod in agreement.

  Then Bonehead laughed at something behind me. I turned and saw a bruised Stony and Hamhock limp out of the red cavern.

  “Look!” Bonehead said. “Loony Lug’s big fans! Why them all beat-up, Loony?”

  Boulder smirked too, clearly admiring his son’s handiwork.

  I turned to my friends. “Let’s go,” I said.

  By the time we got to our prearranged meeting spot by the dead tree, Echo was already waiting.

  “Please tell me you had more luck than we did,” I said.

  She shook her head. “They thought I was a traitor trying to get them to leave their caves so that your clan could take over their territory. One councilman suggested they put me in the Tiny Dark Cave.”

  “Let me guess,” I said. “Snortimer?”

  She nodded sadly.

  “Well, as my mom likes to say, there’s a dingleberry in every bush.”

  “Yeah,” said Echo. “Too bad that dingleberry’s my father.”

  I stared at her. I remembered Snortimer’s red hair and green eyes and saw a faint resemblance. But that was where the similarity ended. Then I thought about Bonehead and Boulder. I was amazed that someone with a father like Snortimer could turn out like Echo. “Your mom must be really nice,” I said.

  “I don’t really remember her,” said Echo. “She died after giving birth to my brother.”

  “Oh.” I wanted to give her a hug but found myself staring at my feet instead.

  “Anyway,” she said, “I managed to catch a ride before they caught me.” She nodded toward the stupendous snout now emerging from behind the dead tree.

  Froggy gave an exultant croak and hopped off Stony’s shoulder onto Big Mumma’s delighted face—showering her with slimy-tongued frog kisses.

  “But that’s Boss Hog’s personal boar!” Hamhock piped up.

  “Exactly,” said Echo, mounting Big Mumma.

  “Hold on a moment,” I said. “What’s your plan?”

  Echo arched an eyebrow and put a finger to her lips.

  Suddenly, I too heard the very low rumble of hoofbeats.

  “Please don’t tell me that’s all the Boar Riders coming for you,” I muttered.

  “Okay, I won’t,” she said. “But we should probably get going.”

  I FOUND PIGGYBACKING much scarier than mammoth riding. Despite four human passengers and a frog, Big Mumma ran fast and furious—snout-plowing through thick foliage and even leaping over a creek as the pursuing Boar Riders nipped at her hooves.

  After much cringing, ducking, and a good deal of terrified screaming, we approached my village. I ducked as Big Mumma charged under a low-hanging gourd tree and leapt into the public clearing, snorting to a halt just in front of the Shiny Stone. The Boar Riders followed suit. Soon Boss Hog, Snortimer, and a dozen other angry men on pigs surrounded us. The enormous Boss Hog looked particularly annoyed to be on a smaller sow than ours. His animal didn’t look too happy either.

  The Macrauchenia Riders emerged from their caves and headed toward us, led by Boulder.

  “Echo,” I muttered, “I really hope you have a plan.”

  “Already happening,” she whispered. “Welcome to the first-ever Joint Clan Conference!”

  “WHAT’S THIS?” Boulder barked at Boss Hog. “Why are you on my land, llama thief?”

  “Me?” said Boss Hog, working his pink jowls into a lather and pointing at us. “Your spies stole MY BOAR!”

  “They’re not MY SPIES!”

  “YES THEY ARE!”

  “NO THEY’RE NOT!”

  “YES THEY ARE!”

  “NO THEY’RE NOT!”

  “Great plan,” I whispered to Echo.

  She shot me a withering look. “Do you have a better idea?”

  “You mean better than listening to those two yell?”

  “We just need to get them to realize that they face a much bigger threat than each other.”

  “That would take a miracle,” I muttered.

  A snowflake fluttered down from the sky and melted on my forehead.

  Echo smiled.

  “Huh?” said Boss Hog, peering up at the hazy late afternoon sky.

  “What’s this white stuff?” muttered Boulder.

  “Woolly calls it snow,” said Echo. “Well, snoooooooow.”

  He ignored her.

  I cleared my throat and turned to Boulder. “Remember the great storm I mentioned today? And the giant cats following the cold?”

  Boulder looked like a dodo bird spotting the club that’s about to whack him.

  Boss Hog looked at Echo with a similar expression. “It’s … all true?” he asked, his voice quavering.

  She nodded.

  Boulder closed his mouth and gulped. “When do the giant cats come?”

  “Tomorrow,” I said. “Sunrise.”

  In the Council Circle clearing just outside our village, I stood and listened intently to the first-ever Joint Clan Council.

  “Don’t you see?” shouted Snortimer at his fellow Boar Rider councilmen. “This could all be some dirty Macrauchenia Riders’ trick to destroy our way of life! These Llama’s Boys hate our way of life!” He was saying this while shivering, as the snow piled on his own head.

  When Boss Hog pointed this out, Snortimer snorted loudly and stormed off into the forest. I shook my head in amazement. It seemed that no amount of evidence was enough for some people.

  “Boss Hog,” I said, “can we talk in private?”

  The Big Man growled dismissively and pointed at his own head. “I’ve got some big thinking to do!”

  “Well, I have a big thought for keeping the giant cats away,” I said. “At least for a while.”

  “You?” he half laughed. “But you’re … little.”

  “I’m aware of that,” I said. “But as my mother likes to say, sometimes big dodos grow out of small eggs.”

  Boss Hog looked confused but grudgingly followed me out of the circle.

  When we were out of earshot of the council, I stopped and turned to him. “Okay,” I said, “what is the one thing we humans have that giant cats don’t?”

  He stared blankly at me. “I’ve never seen a giant cat.”

  “Any cats, then.”

  He scratched his forehead and shrugged.

  “Hands!” I said. “They have paws, but we have hands. And that means we can throw things.”

  He looked down at his own ham-sized mitts and furrowed his brow. “We throw giant cats?” he asked hopefully.

  “No! We throw stones!”

  A big childlike grin spread across his face. “I like to throw stones!”

  “Good,” I said. “I want you to tell everyone to start gathering stones and piling them in each cave entrance. Then, at sunrise tomorrow, whenever a cat approaches one of our caves, the headstone players in the surrounding caves will pelt him.”

  The Big Man still looked confused.

  “We’ll throw stones,” I clarified. “At cats.”

  He nodded. “Good plan.”

  “Not really,” I admitted. “But at least it will give us some time to keep thinking. Also, we need to make sure everyone stays as warm as possible. Echo is working on that problem and—”

  But Boss Hog was already waddling back to the Council Circle to present the throwing stones idea as his own.

  Under the light of a thin ghostly moon, we all gathered stones. Echo pointed out that it would be much easier to work together and defend everyone in a single village, so Boss Hog sent Oinker and Newporker to bring the rest of their clan. She also pointed out that the more people gathered in the same caves, the warmer they could remain.

  The snow
slowly piled up in the public clearing, and the mounds of stones grew steadily taller in every cave entrance until they were halfway up to the ceilings.

  At the first hint of dawn, everyone hurried inside. Most went toward the back of the caves, but Echo, Stony, and I and all of the headstone players positioned ourselves behind the various stone piles. Then we waited.

  It wasn’t long before the chirping and buzzing of the morning forest went suddenly and uncannily silent. Without so much as a rustle, Smilus stalked out of the trees into the clearing. Every step he took, every motion he made, seemed effortlessly graceful, and I found myself wanting to paint him. Instead, I quietly picked up a stone from the nearby pile. Next to me, Echo and Stony did the same.

  A dozen tigers slunk into the clearing after Smilus—their yellow, foot-long saber teeth glinting in the first rays of morning sun.

  Smilus surveyed the humans in the caves. “Mmmmmmm,” he purred. “Looks like everyone’s staying for breakfast.”

  The largest tigress licked her chops. Her cold green eyes were locked on Boss Hog, who was quivering like a bowl of lard in the leftmost cave. “That pink round one looks nice and juicy,” she hissed.

  “He’s all yours,” said Smilus, turning toward us. “I’ll be starting out with these three bite-sized morsels.”

  “And I’ve got dibs on that hairy one!” growled a cat with an extra-long left saber tooth and oddly crooked black stripes. He was ogling a quaking Boulder in the rightmost cave.

  “Sure,” said Smilus. “Enjoy.”

  A few of the other cats called out their choices. One licked his lips in my dad’s direction. Another salivated at the sight of Snortimer. And a buff young beast crunched his teeth at Bonehead.

  “All right,” said Smilus, “it’s breakfast ti—” He jumped back and snarled as my stone whizzed by him.

  I swore under my breath.

  Smilus’s eyes narrowed to black slits. Without a word, he leapt toward our cave.

  Wap! Wap! A rapid volley thumped him left and right. Smilus took a couple of quick surprised steps backward. Stony and Echo grinned at each other and slapped hands.

  Now the tigress sprang forward. Wap! A little stone bounced off her snout. She drew back.