"Can we do that?" But everything they tried—grass fronds, big leaves, logs—all sank under their weight.
Each day opened and closed as those before it. It was a relief when they finally found one of her father’s cairns, pointing them inland, away from the Pond.
So that’s where they went.
As Nightshade led the People across a wide field, it started raining, gently at first but then so heavy, the dust that layered the land became sucking mud. Nightshade raced toward a cliff with a protruding overhang but Xhosa didn’t like the boulder bed in front of it.
“It blocks our view. Predators can sneak up,” and she led onward, hoping for better.
They passed trees with many dangerous dead branches and others with limbs too high for a quick escape. A wadi tempted her but Nightshade pointed out that in this rain, it would flood. Pan-do’s sharp eyes finally located a cave. It was saturated with old coyote smell but deep enough to hold everyone. They huddled together, letting their combined warmth fill the cavernous expanse and dry them. What food they had was eaten in silence and then everyone slept where they lay. Xhosa tried to stay awake but failed.
When she woke once, the rain had stopped. Stars twinkled. Moon showed its face. Nightshade sat in the cave’s mouth, facing the cold night, eyes bright with anticipation.
Chapter 25
Pan-do woke up groggy. It took a moment to realize this cave was not home. He wrinkled his nose as the odor of stale breath washed over him.
"Hungry," and Lyta sprinted from the cave.
She had never been happier than now, traveling with Xhosa’s People. Even when they lived with the Hairy Ones, Lyta worried constantly, warned him of danger, and told him often that their future was not there.
Pan-do spread his arms and reveled in being alone. Much was different from the day he committed to stay with Xhosa, in his mind to protect her, but nothing made him want to change that decision. Lyta still told him Xhosa needed protection though his daughter didn’t say why.
He rolled that around in his brain. Something about Nightshade continued to disturb Pan-do, even more so the further they traveled. His thoughts jumped to that last night before the Big Heads’ attack. He was sure Nightshade had enjoyed Xhosa’s discomfort. The more derisive Rainbow’s comments, the wider the Lead Warrior’s smirk and when many joined Rainbow, Nightshade seemed energized by what he considered her failure.
Did the powerful male want to lead the People? If Xhosa failed, would he take over or simply wrest control from her? Nightshade disdained every female except Xhosa—did that mean his goal was less about saving the People than claiming Xhosa?
If coming between Nightshade and Xhosa put Pan-do at risk, so be it.
Feet hustled outside the cave. Arms waved as members chatted. Everyone was busy.
Lyta trundled inside at her galumphing pace. "We go we go we go!” and then left. Pan-do shook himself and raced after Lyta, the column of people well on its way.
Daylight drained away, replaced by comforting darkness. Pan-do tucked his daughter behind the brambled barrier and left to check the area. Others’ prints were rare and Xhosa insisted their group size kept them safe. Pan-do agreed but still patrolled each night.
Finished, he crouched, at peace with the quiet. He loved the cold beauty of the land, more like the home of his youth than anywhere he’d been. Moon meandered across the glittering sky as the nocturnal sounds serenaded any who listened. Coyote howled in the distance. Crickets chirped and branches brushed against each other in the soft nighttime breeze. Owl hooted as it awoke hungry. These comforting sounds brought quiet serenity to Pan-do but another sound didn’t—hushed voices that carried too far in the thin night air. Pan-do pricked his ears. One sounded like Nightshade but he couldn’t identify the other.
"We must destroy…. …the safety of our People …" The stranger’s answers, augmented by invisible motions, muffled as they moved closer together. Nightshade responded, "Yes. Do what Big … before …"
Voice One hissed, "Too strong... Outnumbered... Xhosa..."
Nightshade interrupted, "No. She will ... And be quiet!” He growled when Voice One answered, "We must …" with an emphasis on we. "Xhosa is …"
"How.... know her—"
"I know her better than you. I can keep everyone safe …" These words were loud.
"Shhh!" Both voices fell silent, the only noise now padding footsteps as the two disappeared.
Pan-do waited until the night stilled, wondering at Nightshade’s plan. If Nightshade wanted to lead and the group wanted him to—much like Rainbow—Xhosa could do nothing. Should he tell Xhosa? I heard a broken conversation between someone who might be Nightshade and someone I didn’t recognize. They were planning your destruction.”
He laughed to himself, doubting that would convince even him. That left only one issue: how to stop these two from destroying his People. He scratched the lice that nested in his chest hair. The next time Wa-co offered to groom him, he would accept.
He shook his head, not understanding why anyone would disagree with Xhosa. She was fair, open-minded, and tolerant and Nightshade thought leadership required violence. Pan–do understood why the Lead Warrior felt entitled to lead. His entire life had focused on that. The fact that Xhosa beat him in the People’s challenges must have stunned him but would he weaken the group, possibly destroy it, to get what he considered his right? Pan-do shivered at the next thought that popped into his mind.
Would Nightshade kill to achieve his goal?
Chapter 26
Northern Africa, along the Mediterranean Sea
Sun at his back, stomach full, Rainbow headed toward Mammoth’s lows. The mostly rolling prairie was broken here and there by gullies, ridges, and low hills, the soaring spires of Fire Mountain already far behind.
Rainbow felt good, his step light, head high, arms swinging. Any doubts about his ability to lead diminished the further they traveled. For every member of the People who stayed with Xhosa, one came with him including the talented hunters and well-trained warriors that would ensure his People survived. Because Xhosa’s path was so obviously arduous, it surprised no one that many females, especially the pregnant ones, joined him. New babies ensured the growth of Rainbow’s People.
Rainbow’s People. He liked the sound. He would tell everyone to use that call sign.
How easy it was to lead. Xhosa always made decisions sound difficult. She listened to everyone, weighed their input, balanced each against the other, but in the end, didn’t she simply do what she thought best? He expedited that by skipping the listening step and simply following his instincts.
Leaders should expedite.
No, that was wrong. Xhosa gained loyalty by listening. Everyone had a voice in decisions even if they didn’t get their way. It surprised him she allowed so many to leave but many of his People, even now, had nothing but good to say about her.
Rainbow’s People. He would use that term as often as possible, to acclimate his People to its sound.
The new Leader stared into the distance, mulling this over as he marched forward in search of the group’s new home. Yes, he saw what to do. He would encourage his People to work problems out themselves. When they came to him for advice, he would send them to talk among themselves, collaborate, and share ideas—as Xhosa did but without his involvement. When they found a solution, he would applaud their efforts.
In fact, he’d already started this. Many of his males still had not replaced their spears. Xhosa—and Nightshade—would force them to spend nights honing new weapons at the expense of sleep. Rainbow reasonably evaluated that there were no immediate threats so why risk being tired the next day, maybe miss clues that led to food? Let each male decide for himself the importance of replacing his weapons. In this way also, they would learn the consequences of good and bad decisions.
Already Nightshade's female, Mbasa, brought Rainbow food, walked with him, and slept beside him at night. Nightshade's female! She ignored him when they wer
e part of Xhosa’s People. Now, they mated whenever he wanted and she drove other females away.
He picked up the pace, jogging now, listening to the whisper of his passage through the waist-high supple grass, smelling the familiar herbs Xhosa used for healing. This terrain, with its savannahs and flowers and skittish birds, reminded him of his youth when massive herds of mammoth, Hipparion, and gazelle grazed everywhere, there for the slaughter. Even in the hottest of times, the People always had food though it might be limited to rodents, bats, snakes, or the huge insects that inhabited rotting bark.
Rainbow spotted a tribe of Others but as always, they maintained a respectful distance. No doubt the size of his group intimidated them. As a result, his People hunted where they wanted.
“Rainbow.” Mbasa hooted his call sign and motioned, “Over that rise. A band of Others stalks a Rhino.”
He paused, deciding if he should respond to the beckon of a female, and finally followed her. With Mbasa leading, he and the hunters tracked the scent and then hid as the Others killed the rhino, took what they could carry, and left.
“Scavenge what remains,” he motioned loosely.
One—Tor, he thought was the male’s call sign—posted hunters to alert the People if the Others returned while the rest scavenged the wealth of meat. When they left, each hunter burdened with ribs and slabs of meat, a hyaena pack moved in to clean the carcass.
Rainbow grinned to Mbasa. “No injuries. No deaths. This is how to hunt.”
She nodded but seemed distracted. That reminded Rainbow that he had been annoyed.
“Tor!” He called the young hunter over. “Why did Mbasa find this before you?”
Tor gulped. “Mbasa—she is a powerful—” but Rainbow interrupted whatever excuse he planned to give.
“You will become Lead Hunter of Rainbow’s People someday. You must prove yourself ready.”
He moved his hands with strength, tone pedantic as though teaching a child. He expected no answer—didn’t want one—and sped ahead, eager to rest after such a trying hunt.
Rainbow knew what he wanted in a new home—gurgling deep streams, countless waterholes to draw prey, a quarry nearby rich with the hard stones required for tools, and herds that grazed on vast swaths of grass—what they had before the Big Heads drove them away but with each passing day, the land became drier, food sparser, and the distance between waterholes greater.
He might need to adjust his expectations.
As one Moon replaced another, he slowed the pace for the pregnant females, stopping to rest often. None of his People were accustomed to the fatigue and gruel of migrations. The last time they moved homebases was before the pairmate of Xhosa’s father died. After that, the People never moved, in no small part because Nightshade’s reputation for brutality drove all Others away.
“Rainbow! Starlight delivers her baby!” From Mbasa.
Another of Nightshade’s mates. Rainbow had promised Nightshade leadership of his People if the powerful and charismatic male would join him. Of course, Rainbow lied but by the time Nightshade figured that out, it would have been too late to change his mind. Mbasa shattered that plan. When Nightshade saw her in Rainbow’s group, he wrinkled his nose in disgust and left.
Mbasa trotted to him. “There’s a cave ahead. We need a safe place for Starlight. Jackal lived there long ago. Its scent will keep others out, despite the aroma of the new birth and female blood.”
Rainbow motioned, “Lead.” Mbasa hesitated, as if she wanted to say more. “What?”
Mbasa motioned, a nervous shimmer in her hands, “Starlight, she’s small. I worry.”
Rainbow waved her away. A Leader shouldn’t waste time on that—and what did he know about births.
“Take care of it,” and he left, excited about this new opportunity to show leadership. Sleeping in caves rather than in the open—the right decision for a new land.
While Starlight struggled to give birth, the males explored. Not far away, they discovered a quarry, collected as many stones as they could carry, discarding the antlers, leg bones, and bone shards they had been using in place of the stone tools.
Despite the importance of the quarry, the grass here was too sparse to draw grazers so as soon as Starlight finished, her baby born dead, they moved on. Mbasa begged for a delay, to allow Starlight to rest, but Rainbow refused.
Females didn’t set the tempo of travel.
Moon came, went, and came again. Scouting expeditions became rare, so sure was Rainbow that the legendary Nightshade’s warriors would effortlessly defeat attackers. The group progressed leisurely and noisily. Rainbow could hear Nightshade’s harsh orders in his head—Quiet! Leave nothing of your passage!—and stifled a grin. His People slept in, left late in the morning, and stopped long before Sun disappeared. The only problem—which wasn’t significant—was they found no herds. Nor did they find Uprights. Rainbow scratched his armpit, thinking one probably led to the other.
So sure was he of their solitary travel, he missed the Others, out of sight, watching the weak strangers, preparing their next move.
PART THREE: CHINA AND JAVA
850,000 years ago
Chapter 27
Zvi crouched by Mother on the dirt floor of the People’s cave. Her old hands never stopped tugging and pounding and patting, nor did she acknowledge Zvi. The girl wriggled, bored with the assigned job, and bumped Mother's knee. The elder scowled, adjusted, and pounded harder.
Zvi pinched her lips together to hide her frustration and removed the tiny nodules from the roots. When finished, more awaited her. Always more.
“Mother.” Zvi spoke as she continued her work, body flushed with heat. “I w-went to that area you talked about.”
A grunt was the only reply so Zvi tried again. “Can I show you what I found?”
Mother showed no interest. Zvi exhaled without surprise. No one was ever interested in her explorations.
Except Giganto. She already missed the slow-moving Upright with fur the color of Sun. Giganto was a kind, humble, caring creature with a loving family and a closely-bound tribe. He towered over Zvi and like her, walked upright on lumbering legs. His curled hands hung to his knees ready to drop to the ground when needed to support his massive upper body. Standing, Giganto trundled, but on all limbs, he galloped, as fast as any Upright. Zvi tried moving like that once but it shredded her knuckles and they ached for days.
Giganto couldn’t run like that for long so for extended flight, he swung through the trees like Monkey. Zvi loved when Giganto would cradle her in one arm while swinging one-handed, the breeze blowing her hair back in a stream, giggles of pure joy rolling from her mouth.
Zvi’s hair, hanging past her shoulders, always made Giganto happy. His head hair was not much longer than the fur on the rest of his body but it was thicker, protecting him from the claws of predators—though few dared attack such an intimidating creature with his massive yellow teeth and blood red eyes. Zvi though knew the true Giganto, so shy he hid in the trees, so terrified at times he shook, and so kind he sheltered the smallest of creatures.
Giganto was the only Upright who accepted Zvi despite her blunders, follies, and stutters. Once when Zvi and Giganto were exploring, a wolf threatened Zvi. Giganto grabbed the slobbering creature by its tail and threw it aside as though straw in a wind. Another time, several of Zvi’s people cornered Giganto. They considered him easy prey because of his slowness and lack of weapons, but they were wrong. The spears that reached him, he batted aside with deceptively-quick reflexes. When they continued the assault, he wrapped his muscular arms around the entire group and clutched them to his chest. He intended only to stop them from hurting him but ended up crushing the life from their bodies. He’d been so distraught afterward, Zvi stayed with him, fearing he would do something rash.
Since then, her People hated Giganto but not Zvi. During the hot times, she joined him as often as possible to forage food, which for Giganto took much of Sun’s daylight. He ate mostly bamboo and it t
ook a lot to fill him. Zvi disliked the tasteless stalks but enjoyed exploring her friend’s world. When he settled to eat, Zvi would whittle the bamboo into tools. Done correctly, the edges rivaled sharpened stone and were much lighter to carry.
That all changed during the wet time. Then, without the fur that kept Giganto warm, Zvi was stuck inside her tribe’s caves.
“Go,” Mother motioned. “Sit with the others.”
Zvi scrunched in among the tribe’s other females. They gathered shoulder-to-shoulder facing the central pit that held the roots, leaves, stems, tubers, corms, and berries requiring preparation for meals. Each worked quietly, head down, pounding and chopping and cutting, ignoring her with a fierceness.
Zvi didn’t understand why being the largest female made her an outcast. If she were male or foul-tempered like some subadults, her size would make her a Leader. Maybe it was her lumbering movements while others sprinted, leaving her far behind. Giganto taught her to scale trees and swing through the canopy but no one older than a child did that.
Her oddities weren’t Giganto’s fault. He was the one who rescued her when a rogue tribe killed her parents and left her for dead. Giganto took her to his tree nest, every day feeding and playing with her. It was the happiest time in Zvi’s life, one she wished never to end, but Uprights attacked. Giganto squealed in fear, snagged her with one arm, and swung into a neighboring tree. When a spear pierced his shoulder, he dropped her. Zvi bounced, head slamming into the hard ground, and blacked out. When her eyes finally opened, Others stared down at her. Far above, in the trees, was Giganto’s anguished gaze. She tried to tell him not to leave her, that he was her tribe, but her mouth and arms wouldn’t move. Her best friend yanked the spear from his body, howled with pain, and fled.
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