by Watson, Tom
Regardless of the hopes, Ember needed help and she had an idea how to get it. Dropping to her knees on a patch of wet sand, she traced a long wavy line with her index finger. She placed her finger at the end of the wavy line and made a big dot, the head of a snake. She knew that the image was simple and would probably not interest the Snake God or any Snake Spirits near enough to see, but she hoped she might garner some favor in her search from her crude effigy. Gods and Spirits tended to like their own images or symbols drawn; in fact many Elders spent much time perfecting the addition of such symbols to the symbol-banded pottery her tribe and surrounding tribes made. Ember said a prayer to snakes, slithery creatures who tended to find their way into unexpected places.
“Snake God, Snake Spirits, here me. The Gods wished me here, and I need my dagger, at least, or I will surely die! Please help me find the dagger.” Ember knew snakes were very chaotic and as likely to bite as to help, but she also knew that a snake lives to cause mischief and what better sport than to defy the fate of the mighty Great River? Perhaps with some luck, at least the Snake Spirits might hear her prayer and aid her.
How long would she be searching before she found flint to make another clean edge, though not as good as her obsidian knife? It had been her father's dagger, taken from his hand by her mother when she found him all of those harvests before. He had used that dagger to defend the people when his quiver had run dry of arrows. She must get it back, besides Ember was not a skilled knapper, and her ability to shape flint came from either randomly flaking pieces off with a rock, called percussion knapping, or pressing against the edges with a pointy stone until pieces came free, called pressure knapping. She was terrible at both.
After she finished her prayer, Ember stood and moved for the place where she had come ashore, wasting no time. Arriving, she searched the scuffled sandy pebbles and foot prints looking for any sign of her items. With a weak heart, Ember turned and walked North West along the bank following the river with little hope in her. The bank was strewn with branches and other debris washed ashore by the river. The river ahead of Ember turned sharply producing a small inlet of sorts.
While river inlets afforded calmer waters for swimming, an inlet worked as a trap where water was forced with great pressure during such storms. Her people often set nets and traps within such an inlet to capture fish, and anything else, which wandered into the protected area. The inlet was full of beached wood and even a few dead fish! What torrent must have come through here last night! Perhaps the river had even overrun the inlet's bank. That might explain the way the ground appeared, she conjectured.
Ember approached the far side of the inlet and noticed a large tangle of brush covered in debris, which looked fresh as though it had collected the night before. This was the exact sort of scenario Ember had hoped to find. The destroyed brush covered the bank of the piece of land which stuck out into the river and formed the wall of the inlet. There was a muddy trail from one side of the jut of land forming the backside of the inlet to the other side. This was solid proof that water had indeed overrun the inlet. The water would have flowed over the brambles and drift wood, which worked like a filter catching anything in the water as it may have caught Ember's possessions. Even more, the spot where she now stood was directly in line with where Ember had fallen into the water. Anything falling from her would have been forced into the inlet and over the beach by the water surge, she hoped. The brush might have snagged it!
A surge of hope filled her as she dove into the brush and started pulling large pieces of wood away and casting them to the side. For a long while, Ember dug and tore at the wood and brush, moving from pile to pile without luck. Ember stood from her fourth such pile and walked over to the last pile remaining. She was starting to run low on luck. Ember knelt and began to pull sun warmed pieces of wood from the tangled mass. She dug with reckless abandon, throwing wood in all directions.
Ember caught the glimpse of a stick which was twisted in an odd curly shape. As she reached for the stick, it suddenly moved at her! Ember recoiled instantly as the “stick” struck with a hiss! The stick was actually a snake! Had the snake been fully coiled, it might have had the range to bite Ember's hand. Luck was with Ember as the snake which nearly bit her was a sort her people called a Black Snake, what would one day be called a European Adder. These little black and gray colored snakes were vipers having two long fangs and a venom which could kill a small animal. The snake slithered off deep into the pile of debris, obviously offended. Ember sat back on her butt for a moment with her hands stretched behind her and a wide eyed expression.
How could she have been so stupid to search a wood and brush pile without taking care for the creatures which can be found in such a place? Though the little black snake probably wouldn't have killed her outright, she would have been in great pains for days, and without food she might still have died. When alone in the wilds, one only had to become wounded to die. The wilds would finish you themselves and without the need for a quick death.
Suddenly she caught sight of a familiar looking object. With a gasp, Ember realized the item caught in mud and the debris was a shaped piece of flint. She reached, carefully this time, into the brush and with another gasp Ember lifted a hand cut piece of flint from the brush and examined it. This was a piece from her sack of flint, there was no doubt. Ember held the flint close for a moment and with renewed vigor she dug through the drift wood, but with greater care.
As she dug, she began to lose hope as no more flint was to be found. When Ember finally removed her hands carefully from the brush, she brushed against some of the caked mud and it fell away exposing the tip of a leather thong. Ember grabbed at the thong and pulled free a large clump of mud from the brush. As she removed the mud, she realized that the flint must have fallen free from her bag, which she now held! The little leather bag had been so caked with mud that she hadn't recognized it. Moreover, the bag was tied to the longer leather thong, which she was now pulling free, that Ember had used for a belt. That same belt also carried the sheath in which her Obsidian dagger was kept.
Sure enough the dagger was still bound to the belt firmly with a small piece of leather. Ember pulled the entire assembly free from the mud and stared at it with wet disbelieving eyes. Overwhelmed with relief, Ember inspected her father's blade for damage noting that the sheath was still filled with water. Throughout the ordeal, the blade had remained intact, and the little bag had only a small opening at the top from which very little could have fallen out. Inspecting the bag, Ember found nearly all of her flint pieces and the Goddess pendant.
I haven't broken my promise just yet, Blossom, she thought holding the pendant tightly.
What marvel was this but the fate of the Spirits and Gods? What wonders of delight and terror they could work, and why? Ember spent a long moment just sitting there in the gently warming pebbles and sand pondering the chances of having found lost items in a river and how close she had just come to a bite which surely would have left her in a sorry state. After a few moments of introspection, she became aware of the tears welling in her eyes. Not for the first time Ember considered the wisdom of the Elders in sending her out by herself into these dangerous lands when even the hunters from her village traveled in groups of no less than three! At that moment, she both thanked and scorned the Gods for their double edged obsidian-sharp “signs”.
* * *
Pak watched as Calpano walked, stooping with the bent-forward fashion of a man tracking small game. Of the group, Calpano was by far the best tracker and he had again spotted small game. Thoughts of the rabbits returned to him with abandon, and Pak let himself fall deeply into his memories to fight the boredom of the current tracking, which might yet take significant time. The previous night had been wet with a storm and the group had been forced into a cave for shelter. The storm had forced the loss of half of a day of walking, but they were lucky to have found the cave just before the rains had fallen.
Caves were not numerous or easy to en
ter. They often contained a very angry animal with a greater claim. Three men would be hard pressed to kill or scare off a bear. Caves were also an indignity only the weakest tribes faced when driven from their own lands. Men lived off of farming and only a little bit of hunting, so a cave was discordant with the way of people.
With no food but the dried meats the men carried, the night had been quite solemn. Pak's thoughts turned towards the cave and last night’s rain which had driven them inside. The storm had lasted for a long time, and the wind had blown heavily. Without anything to do and only the company of two inhospitable men, Pak had taken to looking around the cave for points of interest. Pak fondly remembered the investigation of the previous night as he mindlessly walked along the trails behind Calpano tripping every now and then.
It had been cold and wet when the trio had found the cave near the river. Rosif had quickly made a fire from drift wood near the entry. He had equally quickly fallen asleep with the understanding that the two younger men would keep the fire tended. While the Rosif snored loudly by the fire and Calpano whittled away at a piece of beach driftwood he had found, Pak had taken it upon himself to examine the cave.
The cave was not very deep and quickly became unusable by a person. Pak continued to move towards the back of the cave examining the walls and crevices for anything strange. The back walls became dark as they faded from the fire's reach but soon they shown clearly with Pak's torch of animal oil and plant fiber. The walls were made of a dark stone, smoother than Pak expected, with small outcroppings of disorder.
As he let his hand drift down the rock Pak noticed an image! At first he retracted his hand before realizing the human nature of the picture. It was an image of some sort of deer and a man chasing it with some sort of spear, Pak suspected. The picture was crude and faded but clearly visible in the torch light. After a time, he happened upon a hand print in the wall which looked as though someone had blown pigment over their hand leaving a “shadow” outline of their hand behind. Such images were not too uncommon to find in caves, though most were barely distinguishable from the rock.
Some said they came from spirits or even from animals living in the caves, but Pak thought them more likely the work of men. How long had they been there? The images appeared very old and depicted hunting techniques, which were primitive compared to what Pak used. Never did he see a bow, but always those spears. Who hunted large prey with a spear? Surely a fool approached a large animal with a spear. Large animals were herded and shot with arrows or trapped. Spears were reserved for small game.
Pak had slid down the wall in the cooler, darker part of the cave and allowed himself to slowly drift towards sleep. Just as sleep had come upon him, Pak had wondered if he would ever be remembered in the distant future by other hunters, much as this nameless hands story had served its owner. Pak had slept reasonably well that night.
Thoughts of the night spent in the cave mildly entertained an otherwise board Pak as he continued to follow Calpano. Pak couldn't have known that he was quite right about the use of spears but that the crude drawing omitted the use of a smaller hand held shaft, perhaps half an arm's length, to which the spear was attached. This acted as a lever propelling the spear at greater speeds. This stick figure used an Atlatyl, an ancient weapon long since fallen out of favor and replaced by the bow and arrow. Though it should be noted that even with an Atlatyl, only a fool would attack anything larger than a small deer.
* * *
Ember walked along the river bank for a long while following the river's flow, but at a much slower pace than travel on water had afforded. She was slowly making her way north by north west and without any idea of what would come next. She had lost much of her supplies and had now only what she could carry in her hands and attached to her belt. Ember pondered her current predicament over and over in her head as she walked down the pebbly bank.
Her stomach finally ended the indecision with a deep grumble. Ember knew she would need some food but not how she would obtain it. Perhaps some small game would do, but first she would need a means to capture and kill something. The skills of basic trapping of small game were known to Ember, like all women, but traps could take days to capture animals. Ember was hungry right now. She would need to make a quick weapon and find some small game. Ember searched the bank for a short time before finding a stick nearly as long as she was tall, and with a generally straight shaft.
This weapon would need to be more robust than the short-lived fishing spear she had made the night before. She knelt on the dirt and removed her bag. From the bag, she took a long sharp piece of flint which would make an impromptu spear head. Ember picked up a piece of stone with a sharp edge and rubbed it back and forth over the end of the stick until there was a decent groove. She forced the sharp rock into the newly made groove.
Next she lifted a larger stone and hammered the first stone, using it as a wedge, into the groove until the stick split, just a little. Ember removed the stones from the split made in the wood and inserted the flint head. Using a thong from her belt, she secured the head in place as tightly as she could. Perhaps she would craft a more quality weapon later, but for now she would use this crude spear to quench her hunger. Ember headed off towards the brush, alternating where she searched from the sandy pebble bank to the grass on the other side.
Rivers attracted many small animals, and if a hunter, or huntress as it were, looked about they were assured to find something small and furry. Fish was fine, but Ember was in the mood for something different. After a time Ember spotted her quarry, a small brown rabbit happily chewing grass on the shore just a stone's throw ahead. Almost immediately the rabbit stopped chewing and stood ready to bolt. Ember slowly walked around the rabbit as though she would merely pass a few lengths of a man behind the rabbit. Ember was not a hunter and had little idea how to do this. Her only hope came from the younger men she would watch returning to camp with many rabbits. Perhaps a rabbit would fall for this most human style of trick.
That's right rabbit. I'm just passing by. Nothing to see here..., she thought. The rabbit was very wary and suddenly ran away before she could even lift the spear. Ember stood there with her arms limp at her side and a grimace on her face. Not even a single sarcastic comment issued from her wide open mouth. Then her stomach made a comment.
After additional fruitless searching, Ember decided to try the river for food. She strode into the cool water and began her search for dinner. Why had she tried to kill a rabbit? She was no good at that sort of hunting. Fishing had always been her skill, and within a few moments Ember noticed several fish swimming a mere arm’s length away on her left.
If only rabbits would swim through the water, I could eat piles of them, she thought. Laughing to herself, she slowly moved the spear tip through the water towards the fish. Ember kept the tip below the water to fool the River Spirits, overcoming the distortion they caused. As one of the fish presented its flank, Ember drew the spear closer. Suddenly the fish kicked its tail to flee the approaching spear, but Ember’s quick jerk of her arm was faster.
Ember walked along the waters bank with a still wiggling fish on the end of her crude spear. For the first time in a day, a smile crept into Embers face. She had been somewhat depressed at her lack of hunting skills, but when she entered the water her true skills came to light. There was something about having a skill, no matter how simple or small, and being good at it which delighted Ember.
With practiced skill, Ember flung the fish through the air onto the land. When she looked at the gasping fish, Ember recalled her own drowning and suddenly felt a touch of remorse for the poor fish. To that she swung her spear butt first, holding it near the pointed end. The butt of the spear smacked the fish hard on the head effectively braining it. Ember twisted her mouth sideways and smirked. Perhaps that was the strangest sort of pity she had ever shown. She shrugged.
Hey, At least it was quick, she thought. Ember renewed her fishing. After a good while, Ember had captured three fish and picke
d a handful of tasty river mussels. She walked ashore and knelt in the warm pebbly sand to clean and dress the fish to eat. As long as this uncommonly warm weather lasted, Ember would be safe from starvation. The problem was that warmth lasted only a short time, and the cold seasons lasted much longer. It had been the warm season for quite a long time and soon the cold would come. That last notion lasted in her mind as she eviscerated and then cleaned the fish as well as the mussels.
With a cleaned fish, Ember merely needed a fire, and she would be hungry no more. She longed for her fire bow. With it, she would have a fire in moments..., if only she still had it. Only the gear attached to her when she fell overboard had been found. It had probably detached as she swam close to shore. Without a fire bow, the old ways would have to do. Tired and weary, Ember was thankful for the ample driftwood on the river bank. Without delay, she selected several choice pieces which had been in the warm sun and were now dry after the storm.
Carefully, Ember placed a small and particularly dry wooden stick against another piece of wood with some tinder, made from small twigs and leaves. She placed her hands on each side of the stick and rubbed them together forcing downwards pressure. This had the same effect as her lost fire bow, but it would take much longer to produce fire. After a short time, sore palms, and several hurt fingers, Ember had a small fire smoldering. She dropped to her belly and cupped her hands around the tinder blowing as gently as a morning wind. Within a few moments, a flame rose from the thick white smoke. She added larger pieces of kindling and slowly created a fire. As the fire became hot and burned brightly, Ember roasted the cleaned fish over the flame with a long stick.
