Through icy crystals caked upon the lashes of Po’s eyes, snow
stretched as far as the horizon. Obsidian and granite hillocks dotted the frozen
prairie this side of the Speartooth mountains. In the distance, a cloud of
frozen dust arose in the wake of the herds traveling east. He raised a hand to
his brow to shade against snow blindness.
“Where is this bridge of yours?” Tuk always spoke against Po’s
dream to follow the herds across the great water. He had all the courage of the
ancestor warriors and all the arrogance that comes with it. With an obvious eye
on leadership in the counsel, having to follow Po’s lead made him more
belligerent than usual.
“You’re looking at it. You can see the line of the northern
sea on the horizon.” He pointed Tuk’s gaze to the north. “The great ocean lies
to the south.”
Tuk turned his gaze southward to scan the horizon. His
derisive snort gave Po his opinion. Tuk considered him a rival and seized any
opportunity to bring him down in the eyes of the elders. Ever since Po had won
the hand of Song, the chieftain’s daughter, by slaying a lone wolf that had
killed some of the village goats.
Tuk, and the hunters, had been scouting for meat while Po,
who had taken ill from a fall in the river, had been left behind. It was Song
who had nursed him back to health. When the hungry wolf, again came into the
village, Po took up the spear against it. Tuk was outraged to learn of the
betrothal. He’d always had an eye for Song, speaking of her as a token to be
won while Po, having taken the time to get to know her, had truly won her
heart. Tuk had warned Po, he would not forgive him for stealing his prize or
his chance for glory.
This day, however, Po had more important matters on his
mind. That wolf was not the only starving creature on the steppes. Each season,
fewer caribou were being found. Hunters were forced to range farther to find
the thinning herds and bring back meat for the tribe. Something had to be done
or the village would soon face the same fate as the wolf. While hunting, Po had
come across the tracks of the giant tusk-beasts moving east toward the great
water over the bridge of ice. In their wake, the caribou had followed.
The counsel had
agreed to send him and Tuk and several other hunters to scout ahead and track
the herds while the rest of the village packed to follow. It would be a monumental
risk, but one worth attempting for the good of the tribe. Po turned back the
way they had come. A trail of people were snaking through the pass and onto the
great ice bridge. “We must hurry. The villagers will need meat to complete the
journey.”
“There are a few caribou stragglers not far ahead.” Tuk took
off down the hill, spear in hand, leaving the others to follow.
. . .
The hunters arranged themselves around a rise overlooking a
small herd of caribou. Each hunter selected the beast nearest his position. At
a signal from Tuk, they arose and threw their spears. In moments, several of the
beasts lay dead on the ground. They wasted no time but went straight to the
work of skinning the beasts and quartering up the meat. Stretching out the
hides to be used for storage, they began packing up the meat to bury and mark
for the villagers following behind.
As Po worked, the taint of rotted death wafted in on the
breeze, overriding the iron tang of the caribou blood. He looked up to find the
others had also caught the scent. We are
being tracked! He grabbed up his spear and turned to meet the, as yet,
unseen threat. If the wolves mean to have
our meat, they’ll have to fight for it!
A feline scream cut through the moan of the twilight wind. Chills
ran down Po’s spine as the call was answered by another on their right. Two beasts! He found himself thinking
back to the elders’ stories of encounters with the great cats. None of those
had stories ended well.
Tuk whistled and waved for them to gather into two groups,
three hunters to each cat. The heavy footfalls of the creature, barely visible
in the deepening darkness and the onset of fresh snowfall drew Po’s attention.
The blood of the fresh kills still rode the wind which he realized was what had
likely drawn the beasts. Snow and ice drove into them as the wind rose to a fury.
As the storm gathered, he could just make out Tuk’s crew
standing on the base of their spears, pointed in the direction of the first
cat. As he watched, a dark flurry flew at them, landing on the spears. They’ve killed one! Po had never known
anyone to have survived a speartooth attack, much less killing one. He turned
to his group to do the same but was too late.
The cat materialized, a gray ghost, to sink its spear-length
teeth into the body of the nearest hunter. The man screamed and died as the
beast shook its quarry limp. The other hunter ran in the direction of Tuk’s
group leaving Po alone to face the cat. He charged the monster, thrusting his
spear into its side. The beast dropped the dead hunter and whipped it’s body
around to face this new threat. Po, still holding his spear was thrown sideways,
landing against a rock. Several ribs broke as he struck the ground. Song! His only thought, for his love.
The speartooth turned toward the injured Po, opening its
massive jaws to finish off its prey. A shadow, in the driving sleet resolved
into the form of Tuk, spear in hand as he leapt from the hillside to stab at
the heart of the cat. Screaming it’s last, the speartooth whipped around and crushed
Tuk against the rocks. Po drug himself over to his fallen comrade.
“Take care of Song,” Tuk coughed out bitter blood. “and our
people.”
Po clasped the hand of the man, his rival, who had saved his
life. “I promise.” Then he closed Tuk’s eyes.
. . .
The villagers arrived several days later to find the hunters
camped next to a carefully arranged pile of rocks flanked by two great
speartooth heads. They listened in wonder as Po related the story of the only hunter
known to kill a speartooth cat. And Tuk had killed two of the beasts.
When they arrived on the far east side of the great ice
bridge, they crossed over and down into the eastern plains covered in verdant
grasses and trees. As far as the eye could see, tusk beasts, caribou, ptarmigan
and hares and all sorts of wildlife roamed the hills and valleys of this new
land. There were berries and herbs, fishes and fowl of all varieties. Po put
his arms around Song and sighed in relief. Their baby would be born in this new
and beautiful land. Tuk’s land.
# # #
