by A. K. Vyas
Chief Sev ordered Bret to sleep until dawn. The entire plan was made clear to all the hunters. It was a maximum effort to kill the Sabretooth.
That night in the Gher, Emil asked about bravery. “Papa, is Bret the bravest hunter of the People? How can I be brave, Papa?”
Papa answered slowly. He knew the risks Bret had taken.
“Bravery is doing ordinary things in extraordinary circumstances. All of our men are trained in the hunting arts. What makes Bret a hero, is he was able to do his duty despite knowing there was a very good chance it was a one-way trip. The difficulty of infiltrating past skilled hunters, not to mention the dangers of the cat, are above and beyond most of us. He was able to do this less due to his considerable skill, than his love for the People.”
“You could’ve done it too, Papa,” voiced Emil, “that’s why Bret asked you that you two sort this out.”
Aash ran a hand through his son’s hair. There is nothing like the faith of a child to keep us safe.
“Your opa the Eagle Feather could have done it.” Papa winked. “Bret asked for me mainly because I’m the only one who laughs at his jokes. He also knows I’d be stubborn and stupid enough to go. Sleep, Babo—something tells me tomorrow will be a very long day.”
Chapter Twelve
“You don't go searching for bones in a lion's den.” -Somali Proverb
The Sabretooth
Dawn brought a chilly blanket of thick fog over the valley. The usual warm amber rays faintly peeked through the clouds. The white wolf was sniffing Sabretooth spore on the dew-caked ground. Cloud glared up the skyline with low growls. There was a final quiet moment before the din as the wind cut through the fog. Papa took in the fresh crisp smell of maple. Beautiful hues of red, yellow, and orange autumn leaves painted in patches as far as the eye could see. It’s so hard to imagine death is so close amidst such beauty. Yet it surely was.
Chief Sev gave the command as the line of hunters lit their torches. The line of men broke into high-pitched yells and screams. The frosty breath escaped their mouths as they clanged their spears together, marching up toward the hill caves. Papa released Cloud, and the beating line of hunters followed as a long broad wave to the caves.
The Sabretooth reacted instantly to the sounds and smoke. He sensed the white wolf and hated man smell. The cat let out a bloodcurdling roar in challenge, which resonated ominously through the hills.
By the river, Bret and the hunting teams were spread apart and waiting with throwing sticks and heavy spears at the ready. They could vaguely hear the clamor from over the hills. They watched smoke from the line of torches swirl up the hill into the fog. No one missed hearing the cat’s response. Then it was eerily quiet, but for the whistling wind.
Leif expertly positioned the teams. He was the strongest hunter of the People and knew exactly where the cat would likely come from. Bret climbed up a large boulder and tossed up a handful of dirt to gauge the wind. He loaded a venom dart and shook the tension from his hands. They were ready. It’ll be any moment now. Peals of thunder suddenly began murmuring through the heavy clouds. Bret shielded his eyes from the swirling wind and scanned the darkening horizon. The teams laughed as the crazy little hunter called out, “Here, kitty kitty!”
They waited, waited, and waited. The cat never came. Bret thought, Well, at least it’s not raining. Then as if on cue, a single raindrop fell as sparks of an old familiar fear shot up the back of his spine. The little hunter asked himself an awful question. Then he knew. A hard rain fell.
Bret yelled at Leif, “Stay in position! Keep blocking off the waterfall tunnel!” He began sprinting uphill, cursing as thunder boomed again loudly through the fog.
The line of beating hunters came to a narrow ridge leading up to a large rocky cave. Cloud was very agitated by the cave. Chief Sev halted the hunters, pointing his heavy spear at the cave entrance.
“That’s its lair,” Papa uttered, “Cloud would tell us if he was close.”
The first seed of a very dark thought began creeping into the back of Papa’s mind. The Chief led the hunters into the cave without result. He emerged moments later with the shocked pale face of a man who’s seen a ghost. He just pointed back up at the cave. Papa and Cloud bounded past them up into the cave. The glimmering torchlight revealed a dark, damp cave. It reeked of cat urine and dead carrion as expected. The shock was the floor was covered in a thick harvest of human skeletons. Papa counted at least a dozen skulls. Tigers don’t do this. Was this a message? He calmed his mind, reminding himself, It’s just a cat. Cloud raised a leg and urinated in contempt. Papa smirked a dark smile and did the same. They made their way back down to Chief Sev.
Cloud had stopped tracking as the cold raindrops dampened the foggy air. The white wolf had lost the scent. He paused and lifted his head up, looking back to lock eyes with Papa. Thunder rumbled from the clouds above. Cloud began barking wildly and raced across the line of hunters downhill. Papa followed, immediately yelling out, “Get back to the village!”
The Sabretooth sprang into the village with a set of savage growls that froze the blood. It was in a bloody killing frenzy. The first victims were two elders, who were sitting at the edge of the village talking and smoking their pipes. The cat slashed one across the face with a thunderous paw stroke. It tore the other’s throat open as he futilely stabbed at it with his pipe. The entire village instantly became a swirling mass of confused and terrified women, children, and elders. Some were running for weapons, others were trying to escape the fire, most were just running.
A woman fleeing in terror tripped over the basket holding the grease from all the hunted game. It fell into the fire, releasing thick, engulfing black smoke into the foggy rain. The village was now a dark, blazing hell of screams, roars, and terror. The Sabretooth tore into the nearest Gher. There was a young mother within who died saving her infant. She sprang at the cat with a hysterical scream, striking it in the face with a burning firebrand of kindling. It ripped her to shreds. The cat had a badly seared eye and recoiled back out of the Gher with a high-pitched snarl.
A gray-haired elder confused by the smoke ran right into the Sabretooth by accident. It turned, snapping at her. She opened the flap of the nearest Gher and dove in. Lulu was startled to see a screaming old woman suddenly sprawling through their Gher flap. Mama was backed up inside as far as possible, with a big knife raised and Emil behind her. A thunderous roar shook the entire Gher. In a flash something powerful yanked the hysterical Elder right back out. Mama slashed open the back of the Gher, grabbed Emil and ran through. Behind her she could hear the dull sickening crunch of snapping bones.
The cat released the limp old woman and bellowed as it rolled its scalded face in the dirt. It came to its feet snarling and swirled to chase panicked villagers. The Sabretooth now faced a small group of women, children, and a teen boy. Mama and Emil were part of this group. The teen charged with a heavy spear and a battle cry, while the women reached for fallen torches. The Sabretooth swatted the spear aside and killed the teen with a massive bite to the chest. The mother, now closest to the cat, handed her infant to Lulu to take him and run. Mama ran for the trees, carrying a screaming Emil over her shoulder and the baby in the other arm. The third woman followed carrying the other children. The infant’s mother made her desperate stand with a greasy flaming torch and a dull knife. The cat was more cautious now as the heat from the torch increased pain from its burned eye. The woman was determined to die well and swirled the burning torch around the cat’s face in primal fury.
This desperate standoff was ended by the deep sound of rapidly approaching wolf growls. The Sabretooth knew the wolf and hunters were moments away. It turned and tore low and fast out of the village, headed for the river. Cloud went straight for Emil’s scent, showing up just as Mama, Emil, and the baby reached the trees. The rain made climbing slippery. Mama had Emil up on a branch and was handing him the baby. Lulu heard growls behind her. She twirled, drawing her knife, only to see Cloud’s effort
less gait emerging through the fog. Mama dropped to her knees to give the white wolf a relieved hug as it licked her face. Cloud stayed there to guard them as she climbed up after Emil.
Papa was the first hunter to reach the smoking village. He saw their torn Gher was empty and his heart sank. In the confusion more hunters arrived and all were now searching the smoke for the cat. None had seen it leave amidst the fog, smoke, and screams. Papa came upon the mother who had stood down the Sabretooth; she was down on one knee now, trembling and shaking. He asked for Lulu. The mother pointed to the trees behind the village. Papa slipped in the muddy rain, then sprinted past her.
Bret was hurtling downhill as fast as his legs could carry him. The village was covered in a ghastly cloud of smoke and thick sideways rain. The little hunter tripped. He fell into a thorny bush, cursing the muddy earth. The rain and mud had extinguished his torch.
He could see a few hunters reaching the smoke and heard wails and screams, but no roars. Bret wiped the mud out of his eyes and was picking thorns out of his forearms when his peripheral vision saw slight movement. A slinking tawny blur streaked across the base of the next hill into thick forest. It’s headed back for the river. Bret turned back to follow it, screaming a hoarse, dry-throated warning to the hunters by the river.
At the river, Leif could see smoke rising from the direction of the village. These hunters knew the Sabretooth must have hit the village. They forced themselves to stay in place by the boulders blocking the river. Yet their minds were actively thinking of their loved ones in the village. It was too much; all but two couldn’t wait any longer and ran for the village. The dark rain was increasing, putting out their torches, and making visibility poor.
Leif was brushing his long rain-swept hair out of his face when he heard a shocked scream. The cat landed on Bron right behind him. It’d pounced on him from atop the nearest boulder behind them. The Sabretooth instantly snapped mighty Bron’s neck before bounding off the trail toward the river. Leif missed the cat with his heavy spear and crashed after it into the bushes with his war club. As he retrieved the spear, Leif saw movement to his right. Bret noiselessly stepped off a trail beneath him. Both the largest and the smallest hunter in the village were chasing the cat now. Bret began grimly chanting his war mantra. “Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.”
The trail came to an imposing fork protruding in the rocky trail right before the river. The blustering white water of the river drowned out all other sounds. A pair of narrow trails ringed a series of large granite boulders. One was pitch dark, while the other had intermittent specks of light and shadow dancing reflections across the surface. A silent look passed between Bret and Leif. Both knew it was foolish to separate, but there was no time. Leif’s hair fell into his face again. He shrugged back a toothy grin and took the more dangerous trail. Bret nodded, taking the other.
Bret could hear the roar of the river around the next bend in the trail. He knew the Sabretooth wanted to make the hidden rock tunnel. Leif had positioned well to cut that direction off.
The Sabretooth knew the men were close and saw it was trapped on the edge of a slippery rocky ledge high above the river. It turned to see a huge, wild-looking man with a heavy spear. Leif was a brave man. He was going to end this murderous cat once and for all. The strongest hunter of the People lunged at the Sabretooth with the ancient war cry. With an infernal roar it pounced in reply. Leif was almost on the cat when he slipped on the rainy rock surface. The Sabretooth, faster than the eye could see, smacked the stumbling hunter’s spear down.
Bret rounded the corner just in time to see glowing yellow eyes and the cat’s monstrous head take Leif’s entire head in its gaping black jaws. Large, jagged ivory canines effortlessly decapitated the powerful hunter with a sickening crunch. The Sabretooth then violently shook his body the way a big snake thrashes a small mouse. The little hunter advanced on this horror.
Bret’s sudden stealthy arrival startled the great cat, who spat out Leif’s head and leapt back to the edge of the precipice. The little hunter balanced himself carefully on the rain-splattered bloody surface. A powerful venom dart caught the cat, creasing its flank deeply. The Sabretooth snarled, snapping at the wound, and then slipped itself, slowly falling backwards off the edge. Bret drew his knife and advanced with the final venom dart in the other hand. He caught a glare of pure primeval malevolence from the beast. A look which slowly devolved, turning into full panic. The big cat tried futilely to pull itself back over, chipping and scraping its front claws into the slippery rock. Then it was gone over the side. Bret saw its body crash into the raging river far below with a swirling splash, and get swept under the frothy current.
The roar of the river was deafening, but Bret thought he heard echoes of distinct cheers rising through the mist. He looked over to see two burly Mountain Men on the opposite bank raising their spears in joyous salute to the little hunter. A gust of wind sprayed a fine river mist over the edge of the ledge. Bret retrieved Leif’s spear, promising, “We’ll be back for you soon, brother,” as he made his way back to the village. It had stopped raining and scattered beams of sunlight were now tentatively burning through the fog.
Life was hard for the People. The village showed remarkable resilience considering the circumstances. The fires were out and order had been restored. Chief Sev was leading work parties as the exhausted little hunter entered the village. Bret’s eyes met Papa’s. Emil was sitting cuddled between his parents and ran over to give his mentor a hug.
Papa answered Bret’s unspoken question. “Bad, very bad, four dead, twice as many wounded, three critically.” Chief Sev and the returned hunters wearily approached the little hunter.
Bret preempted, “Six dead, the cat got Leif and Bron.” He told them of Leif’s courage and fate.
“I hit it solidly with a venom dart after it killed Leif. It fell off the edge of the high cliffs into the river, and I saw it sucked under. That fall alone should have killed it, or the venom, or the river, or all three. But I can’t be sure. It’s all enough to make you old.”
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” grimaced the little hunter, “that creature was pure evil.”
Chapter Thirteen
“The friendship of the great is fraternity with lions.” -Italian Proverb
Lions, Tigers, and Bears
The village woke to a heavy stillness the next morning. The People knew death, but it was too quiet. Everyone was grateful to have survived the Sabretooth. Each felt some pangs of guilt for not doing more when so many of their loved ones would never stir again. The Spirit Ceremony was the place to stem the small hidden river of tears in everyone’s eyes. In the meantime, the meat supply was low. Winter was coming. Four damaged Ghers and the grease supply had to be replaced. Chief Sev wisely sensed all this, and gently but firmly put them all to work.
Papa was finally putting the finishing touches on Bret’s obsidian knife when the little hunter hobbled over in greeting. Bret was limping from a twisted ankle, pale in appearance, and in obvious need of rest. Papa knew better than to chide him. The exhaustion and stress of the past few days would have put most men down. Carnivora often have decayed flesh residue under their claws, and resulting scratch wounds often resulted in deadly infection. The People had learned which plants and crushed mushrooms to apply, but even then, some infection was likely.
Bret’s scratches itched and the usually merry little hunter was in a sour mood. Then Papa handed him his obsidian knife. “This is magnificent,” Bret yelled jubilantly.
The serrated obsidian blade was perfectly shaped, resembling a large oval leaf. Papa had used dark birch for the handle with a slight curve for powerful thrusting and cutting. The sheath was tan buckskin with a flying fish pattern carved into it.
Papa observed, “That obsidian is the best I’ve seen. Is there more where you found it?”
Bret recounted, “Emil found it in a rock bed by the fishing spot. I’ll take you, Spearmaker. I’m tired of sleep and not a
llowed to hunt or scratch these infernal scars today.”
Papa mentioned, “I’m still thinking about all those bones that cat kept in the cave. Some of those were of the People. We should at least bury them properly.”
Emil was begging to tag along, so he and Cloud accompanied the two men. It seemed like the forest was letting out a collective sigh of relief that the Sabretooth was gone. The sun was back and shooting golden lances of light through the trees. Blackbirds were pleasantly arguing with red squirrels, and there was plenty of deer sign again.
At the cat’s cave, they cautiously lit torches. Cloud led them in. It was dank, dingy, and ominous.
Bret took in the ghostly layer of bleached cracked bones. “I see what you mean, Spearmaker,” he mumbled grimly, “if I’d have seen this first, I may not have gone after it.”
The little hunter pointed to the walls and a smoke hole in the ceiling, “Men lived here once.”
Papa had missed this. He swept aside a thick layer of cobwebs and held the torch to a wall. The flames illuminated wall carvings telling of men and animals. The ancient images were of hunting and fighting. There were mammoth, tigers, and strong spirits too. It looked like they had throwing sticks as well, though with a severe bend to them. Emil peered intensely at the wall as if in a trance.
Papa pointed. “These men had strong spirits. Look how that large lightning from the sky is helping them hunt mammoth in the woods.”
Emil felt the dark cave was sinister. He was pleased when they left it. They respectfully buried the bones and left for the rock bed. Bret’s slight limp gave them plenty of time to talk. Cloud bounded up ahead, sniffing intensely at fresh spoor on the ground. Bret knelt wincing in the dirt. He shifted the weight off his sore ankle. “Wild dogs, a big, dangerous pack.”