Zamimolo’s Story, 50,000 BC: Book Three of Winds of Change, a Prehistoric Fiction Series on the Peopling of the Americas (Winds of Change series 3)

by Bonnye Matthews

  Tukyatuk and Grakumashi gathered their weapons and told the Wise One they were off to the mountains of the north to determine whether that would make a good place to live. The mountains were not far. They were certain they could get there and back before night. They moved swiftly. As they left some of the women began to move outward from the camp to look for greens to accompany their night meal. Children were admonished to remain at camp. They complied easily fearing that one step outside the bounds of the camp would result in immediate abduction.

  Having pushed hard to climb the animal path through dense vegetation, Mechalu and Olomaru-mia began to descend until they reached a flat place overlooking a broad valley. Olomaru-mia was astonished at the wildlife. There was a herd of animals that had elephant-like short trunks but looked like camels. There were several elephants: one with long straight tusks and another with up-curving tusks. There were several really odd animals that had a hump on their backs and long tails with a ball at the end. They were so numerous. Olomaru-mia had never seen so many animals together in one place at one time. A large iridescent blue and black butterfly flew right by her, causing her to jump. She was astonished at its beauty and followed it with her eyes until it was out of sight. Mechalu took off the gag and band. He untied her hands from behind her. Mechalu reasoned that noise could not travel to pursuers from their location—yet.

  Momentarily forgetting her situation, Olomaru-mia asked with interest pointing to the animals below, “What are they?”

  Mechalu used his hands to show a partial trunk and a slight hump on the back and said, “trunked camel.” He explained they lived in herds. Then he pointed to the elephant, moved his hands from his jaw straight down, and said, “long-tooth elephant.” He pointed to the other elephant taking his hand and moving it down from his jaw and then upward and said, “curved-tooth elephant.” Finally, he pointed to the huge animal with a great hump and balled tail and said, “spiked-tail armadillo.”

  She pointed to the animals in the same sequence and said, “trunked camel, long-tooth elephant, curved-tooth elephant, spiked-tail armadillo.”

  “Very good,” Mechalu said with a genuine smile, astonished at her speed in learning the names of animals. He pointed for her to sit. She complied. He handed her more of the dried meat. She ate some. It wasn’t worth fighting over every little thing, she’d learned. She took the offered water bag. Then, her feeling shifted. This man had stolen her. Why was she talking to him? She hated him! Where was Zamimolo?

  Something squealed and crashed through the brush. Olomaru-mia tried to curl up in a tight ball crossing her arms over her ankles and ducking her head. The posture made Mechalu smile. It was only a tapir, probably startled by them. He guessed correctly that if she was so frightened, neither she nor any pursuers knew how to judge from animal noises what was occurring in the forest. He had the advantage.

  Mechalu left the area for cover behind vegetation to make water. She had the same need, so she pointed to the same direction. He held the rope and motioned for her to go. She had hoped to be free and possibly make a run, but realized that he was in good shape and she was not after the long boat travel. She also had a great fear of the forest through which they traveled. It was far different from the forests at home. She returned and sat watching the beasts below. They were all animals that ate plants. They were food. There were so many!

  Mechalu indicated that they needed to move along down the mountain. When he began to stuff the gag into Olomaru-mia’s mouth, he hesitated. She shook her head with a negative.

  “You will remain silent?” he asked. Based on distant animal noises he had heard as they climbed and crested the mountain, he knew no humans had entered the forest. He reasoned that they’d make the camp location long before pursuers could reach the top of the mountain. He could dispense with the gag temporarily.

  She nodded affirmatively. He put the gag in his bag. He led down the path to the lowland where they would camp for the night. He knew the path even in the dark though the paths forked frequently. That evening she tried to imagine how to break free and follow the trail back to her People. She feared the constant noises and strange animals whose habits she didn’t know. It was too overpowering. Even without the fears, it seemed that her hope of escape was vain. There had been so many forks in the path that she didn’t remember the way back. She couldn’t follow the path of the sun in the forest. She reasoned she might find her way back by crossing the mountain and finding the water, but then she didn’t know whether he’d walked a river or the sea. She despaired. It was getting dark fast on this east side of the mountain. Mechalu wanted to get across the valley as soon as they could see when the sun’s rays first appeared, and he wanted to do it without leaving a trail. If others were close to the top of the mountain, he did not wish to be seen crossing below. It would make their trek much harder to follow if they weren’t tracked across the valley.

  Zamimolo and Linpint had followed the river’s edge until they noticed a pile of rocks. The rock pile was in disarray but it seemed unlikely to them that those rocks would be in that location along a sandy beach unless placed there by people because they were different rocks from what lay about. Both wondered whether they marked a path in the mountains. As quickly as possible, they used the rock pile as an indicator and walked straight for the mountain. After some inspection, they found a path. They followed it, occasionally recognizing that the path had been used recently, but they could not tell whether it was by people or animals.

  It was becoming dark when Linpint noticed something out of place in the grass at the edge of the path ahead. He bent over and picked up the little bag Zamimolo had made for Olomaru-mia. He handed it silently to his friend.

  “The strap broke. Do you think she intentionally left us a marker?” Zamimolo asked the rhetorical question. He yearned for her. He hoped it would be as easy to continue to follow her. He hoped she’d leave more signs, but she was not a hunter. She wasn’t trained. “Do you want to stop here?” he asked. It was getting very dark. He could stay in a place where he knew she’d been.

  “Yes. We could push on to the top of the mountain but we’d be doing it in the dark and there could be bears or something we’ve never seen in this forest. We are in a land of unknown hazards.” Linpint was ready to rest.

  Back at camp the women had returned with limpets, mussels, and clams. The women who remained at camp had a pouch filled with water ready for the seafood to which they’d add hot rocks from the fire pit to heat the water as soon as the seafood was added. To the boil just before taking up the soup, women added greens they’d found nearby. Each person got a bowl and was served. The People were hungry. Finally, Tukyatuk and Grakumashi emerged from the dark. They found their bowls and ate the seafood soup.

  The People cleaned up from the evening meal and prepared for the council meeting.

  In the mountains Mechalu and Olomaru-mia had reached the valley. He had led her in the dark to the east a good way into the valley. Frogs were calling; birds made their night songs; monkeys shouted before settling down. She wondered about his eyes, for her vision was not good enough for her to have moved so quickly in the dark. He had carefully edged around trees to disguise their tracks. He had taken her arm to lead her in the dark. They reached the rock shelter he had been seeking and put their few burdens down. He took the rope away from Olomaru-mia’s neck and tied her ankles together. With another shorter rope he tied her wrists together behind her. He tied a rope from her feet to one of his feet with a knot that would pull free with a single tug. Mechalu was very tired. He’d had little sleep in the last couple of days, and he didn’t want to lose his prize by sleeping. The thought that she might chew a rope or signal their location with a scream bothered him, so he put the gag back on with the leather strip to hold it. He tied it tightly.

  Then, he gently put his hand on her head where he’d hit her to make her sleep. It had bruised. He wondered whether it hurt. This was a tough way of getting a wife, he mused, but he had chosen a gre
at one. He held her to him for a moment, stroking her arm, thinking of the tenderness that would exist from now into the future. She stiffened and began to panic, wondering what was in his mind. He kissed her forehead. He circled her in his arms with her head on his chest. She could hear his heartbeat. She could hear familiar sounds of crickets and other strange bug noises including katydids and cicadas, making her wonder whether it was all one bug or several. The thought of creepy things was unsettling.

  Mechalu held her there seemingly lost in thought for a while. Mechalu could envision the ceremony at home when he would join with this girl. He would have her as wife because she was his prize of valor. No one could touch her—not even the elders. He would be kind to her, and she would be a good wife to him. She would birth him many children. He smiled.

  Olomaru-mia was despairing. He pulled her to him and lay on his side behind her, his arms still about her. Her arms ached, but she could not tell him. He began to slide his hand down her side curving in at her waist and raising up at her hip. She froze. It seemed, however, that he was just interested in stroking her, nothing more. She had heard stories about people who were stolen. They were treated badly and women were more often than not raped. Yet, he had not harmed her, except to render her unconscious. She thought she should consider herself fortunate for his treatment of her, but she reminded herself that she could allow herself to hold only hatred for him. He was a thief. Despite her discomfort, fear of the forest noise, and agony at separation from her People, she slept.

  The council meeting of the People that night was a time of discomfort. All the people except Olomaru-mia, Zamimolo, and Linpint were attending. Night noise from the frogs and the wind was loud. Fear was present as if serpents had invaded their midst. Never had the People in their lifetimes experienced abduction from their number. It was terrifying that one person could be snatched so silently from among them without a trail to follow. A few murmured that spirits had done it.

  Numing held out his arms, palms up. The Wise One nodded to him.

  “Tonight, Obi and I will guard so that all may sleep,” he offered. The Wise One nodded acceptance.

  Tukyatuk and Grakumashi were eager to share their day’s trip. The Wise One nodded to Tukyatuk whose arms were held out, palms up.

  Tukyatuk said, “We went to the mountains to the north. They are not very tall but are of sufficient height to make it possible for us to assign only two people to stand watch atop the highest peak, where they’d have a full view of any attempt to gain access to the upper levels from the flat land below. In addition, there is a small cave near the summit and a lake. We should be safe until we choose a better place. We think that after the morning meal, we should pack up to leave for the mountain.”

  Rustumarin held his arms out, palms up. The Wise One nodded.

  Rustumarin asked, “With a cave and water available, was there no sign of human life, if only a temporary hearth?”

  Grakumashi held his arms out, palms up. The Wise One nodded.

  Grakumashi began, “There is no sign of human presence anywhere. Not even ancient small hearths. We examined the area carefully. The only paths are made by animals. It seems to be a safe place at least until we become more familiar with our surroundings. We also looked from up there to see whether fires were visible anywhere in our area. We could find none.”

  Suddenly hunters first and then others among the People began to strike their left palm with their right fist. It was a sign that all agreed with the proposal. As quickly as the sound began, it ceased. The council adjourned. In the daylight they’d move to the mountains. Maybe on the mountain they could lay down the fear that gripped them.

  The first rays of sun were not yet lightening the sky when a wiggling and muffled sound from Olomaru-mia awakened Mechalu. Slowly he looked to see what the cause of the sound was and noticed a snake about as long as he was tall was making its way toward the place where they lay together. He released the tie on his leg, reached for his knife, and moved to the side of the snake’s path. In an instant he grabbed the snake by the head and severed its head from its body. Olomaru-mia lay there terrified. Trussed as she was, she had been incapable of getting away from the venomous snake. Howler monkeys shouted to each other, also aware of the snake, and Olomaru-mia felt she couldn’t cope any longer. Mechalu threw the snake and the head a far distance from where they would be walking. Olomaru-mia trembled. Mechalu moved beside her and held her in his arms, something which brought her instant comfort to be followed quickly afterward with a strong attempt to shake him off. She was determined not to forget he was her captor and never to be trusted. She had mixed feelings: she didn’t know the forest and feared it, needing protection Mechalu would provide. Yet, he was a man who had stolen her from her People. She depended on a man whom she could not forgive. It was confusing.

  Mechalu understood she had mixed feelings about him. He knew time would change that. He was a patient man. He untied her ankles and retied the rope around her neck. He wanted to crest the mountain ahead of them as quickly as possible. He left Olomaru-mia’s gag in place for fear that a sound from her could alert any followers as to their location. Followers could be near the crest of the mountain they’d just left. He left her hands tied behind her. He was eager to get on the way. He moved into the tall grass to relieve himself, realizing he’d made it hard for her to do the same. He led her to a place where she was off the path, so she could make water. She emerged from the grasses dispirited. It appeared that another day of trekking would be taking place with the gag in and her hands tied behind her. Mechalu headed towards the mountain. Clouds were gathering overhead and it appeared that rain would come. He jerked the rope to encourage her to move faster on the trail that led up the mountain. It was not comfortable to have the rope jerking her neck, but she did respond with a quicker step. At first they traveled an animal trail. That gave way to a path that looked as if humans had used it. It was broader and the vegetation overhead and to the sides had been broken away. They followed that path until the clouds parted and the sun was overhead. They shifted off to an animal trail.

  Nearing the sun’s zenith, voices rang out in the valley far to the north calling her. Olomaru-mia tried with everything in her body to reply but came out with only a small gagged sound that wouldn’t travel. She knew the voices. They were far away, but she knew them. That’s why she’d been gagged. Now, she understood. She fell to her knees, ignoring the jerk on the rope on her neck. She wept and wept. Mechalu felt compassion, but realized that they had made it safely without giving evidence of their route through the forest. He realized that the men had followed the obvious paths through the forest heading north, not the subtle ones they’d used to head south. Clouds were gathering again, darker ones, making it clear that a rainstorm was on the way. Any pathway evidence that existed would be obliterated soon. Despite the fact that Mechalu believed they were safe from detection, he was concerned enough that he went to her and hit her head, causing Olomaru-mia to sleep again. He carried her, wanting to crest the mountain before she could do anything to alert the callers to her position. He knew the men had called from the north end of the top of the first, smaller mountain. He was well ahead of them and far south. With her on his shoulders again, he rushed up the mountain, feeling fed by extraordinary determination to keep his prize of valor. Nearing the mountaintop, Olomaru-mia waked up, but did not fight being carried like a speared animal. Zami would not find her. She wondered whether she should give up. In despair she decided to will herself to die.

  With the sun descending Mechalu crested the mountain, which was quite a bit taller than the one they crossed the previous day. Once on the other side and partway down the mountain, he put Olomaru-mia down and had her walk. He followed an animal trail to a broad open land about a third of the way down the mountain. Mechalu stopped, removing Olomaru-mia’s gag and untying her hands from behind her, so they could eat some jerky and drink water. Olomaru-mia put the jerky in her mouth and then spit it into her mittens and b
uried it in the vegetation out of sight of Mechalu. Both were becoming dehydrated. Olomaru-mia began to weep. She knew that Zamimolo was an expert tracker, but she didn’t believe that he could possibly find her now, and rain was starting to fall, becoming heavier over time. Mechalu was moving so fast she had trouble keeping up. Sometimes she fell. He would help her up and then he’d straighten out the vegetation where she’d fallen. He seemed angry with her as if he believed she did it intentionally. She did not realize he thought she was leaving signs for the trackers. Her head hurt badly. She knew he must stop hitting her head or he’d damage or disorder her mind web, if he hadn’t already.

  At another stop Mechalu sat beside her noticing her weeping. He felt sorry that she had to hurt, but he knew he’d be a good husband to her. She had no worries. He put his hands on her head and caused her to look at him. “What is your name?” he asked.

  She looked at him in disbelief that he’d ask such a question then. She was soaking wet and pain ripped her belly to be separated from Zamimolo and her People. And he wanted to know her name?

  “What is your name?” he asked again.

  “Olomaru-mia,” she said in an angry voice. Thunder boomed nearby.

  “Say it slowly,” he said.

  Olomaru-mia had no desire to talk to her abductor. She stared off into the distance.

  Mechalu grabbed her hair and pulled her head about roughly, so she looked at him again with an edge of fear. “Say your name slowly,” he demanded.