Mammoth!

by Dakota Chase

  “Here. They’re in my pouch.” He fumbled with a leather bag hanging from his belt, but Grant knelt beside him and helped take it off. Inside, Grant pulled out a wedge-shaped piece of dark gray stone, and another, smaller leather pouch. Inside the smaller pouch were two stones and a wad of fluffy dried plants. He also removed a knife from a sheath on Rabbit’s belt. The blade was chipped out of oily black stone, and it was set in a bone handle with the image of a horse carved into it.

  “This must be the ax, and this is the knife. I think the ax is flint. And the knife looks like quartz.” Grant ran his thumb over the edge of the stone and swore when he sliced open the pad. “Ow! This is sharp!”

  “Of course it’s sharp! What good would a dull knife be? That one was made by Silver Hare, the best toolmaker of the Bison Clan, and the handle was carved by Little Rabbit, his daughter. I traded a good beaver pelt for it.” Rabbit frowned up at them as if insulted.

  Grant had his thumb stuck in his mouth, so I answered for him. “Sorry. Grant sometimes says stupid things. You get used it.” I ignored the swat on the arm Grant gave me. “You lay back and try to rest, Rabbit. Don’t worry—we’ll get you home.”

  He lay back and closed his eyes. I don’t know why he trusted us, but then I figured if people were as scarce as it seemed to me they were in this time, relying on one another might be the only way to survive.

  Grant and I looked up at the tree. He pulled on a length of thick vine hanging from one of the lower branches.

  “I think we need to chop down a few long, sturdy branches, maybe three feet longer than Rabbit is tall. Then we can use some of these vines to form a sling between them. Then we tie Rabbit to the sling. I’ll take the front, you take the back, and we can carry him to his cave.” Grant looked to me for confirmation.

  Surprisingly, it sounded like it might work. It was better than anything I could think of, anyway. My only idea was to call 911, and unless I could figure out how to make a cell phone out of a couple pinecones, it wasn’t going to happen. “Okay.” I looked up at the branches over my head. “They don’t look very straight.”

  Grant’s gaze followed my line of sight. Then he grimaced. “You’re right. I don’t think they’ll work.” He looked around the clearing. “Look over there! See those skinny little saplings? They’re tall and straight. I think they’ll work.”

  I grinned and nodded. “You might be right. There’s only one ax. You want to chop, or should I?”

  “I’ll start on the trees, and you cut down those vines. We’ll need a bunch, as long as you can make them.”

  “Done and done.” I was anxious to get started. The sooner we got the stuff we needed for the splint and the stretcher, the sooner we could get out of the forest. I hadn’t forgotten about the bear Rabbit thought he heard, or the image of the saber-toothed cat Grant had put in my head earlier. I didn’t want to meet either of them armed only with a stone knife, no matter how sharp it was. I didn’t even want to get up close and personal with a giant ground sloth, like the one we’d seen earlier, although I was pretty sure I could outrun it.

  We got to work. Chopping down the trees was probably hard work—I could hear Grant grunting from the other side of the clearing—but cutting the vines was no picnic, either. They were as big around as a garden hose and as tough as cables. I had to climb up into the tree, lay across a thick bough, and saw at them with the knife until I finally cut through and the vine fell to the ground. I also had to be careful not to drop one on Rabbit. He was hurt enough without me clocking him with a heavy vine. By the time Grant finished felling his first sapling, I’d only managed to cut down six lengths of vine.

  Even though it was cold out, I was sweating like a pig by the time I’d cut what I thought should be enough vines for our purposes. One thing I noticed—leather didn’t absorb sweat very well. I felt wet and sticky, and I probably smelled like wet dog.

  After I climbed down from the tree, I gathered the vines into a pile. Grant was kneeling nearby. He’d chopped down three saplings and was still hard at work, cutting the third one in half to make a splint for Rabbit’s leg.

  I thought Rabbit had fallen asleep, but he opened his eyes as soon as I knelt down next to him. “We’re almost done, Rabbit. Look, you’re a brave kid, but you should know this is going to hurt like hell.”

  “Like what?”

  “Um, it’s going to hurt a lot. I’m sorry, but there’s no way around it. I wanted you to be prepared for it.”

  “I understand. I am the son of Gray Wolf, leader of the Bison Clan. I will be stronger than the pain.”

  I smiled at him. “Yeah, I can see that. You’re a pretty amazing kid.”

  “What is kid? You keep calling me that.”

  “Oh, it means boy. Child.”

  Rabbit picked his head up and glared at me. “I am not a child! I am almost a man. When the leaves finish falling, my father has said he may allow me to accompany the hunters when they go in search of mammoth. I will prove my manhood on the hunt and earn my hunter name and talisman.” He lifted his chin in proud defiance.

  He was adorable. He looked like anyone’s kid brother arguing he was old enough to go to a PG-13-rated movie. Of course, hunting mammoth sounded a lot more dangerous to me than seeing the latest Star Wars flick. “Okay. Sorry, my mistake. No offense intended.” Then it hit me. Talisman? Hunting talisman? I felt a tingle of excitement. It couldn’t be merely coincidence. Maybe Rabbit would lead us to the hunting talisman we needed to find!

  He was unaware of my thoughts and huffed, seemingly pacified, and lay back down.

  Grant called to me, and I jumped up to help him lug over the saplings. We set the two long ones, already stripped of their smaller limbs and twigs, side by side. Then we tied a vine to each sapling and began weaving the dark greenish-gray plants between them. I whispered to him my idea about the talisman. He stopped and looked surprised, then smiled. “Could be. It sounds promising.”

  I looked at our finished product. “Will it hold him?” I asked, keeping my voice low, not wanting Rabbit to hear me. He probably did because I heard him grunt.

  “I think so. These vines are strong and tough. The saplings are too.”

  “Okay. On to the hard part, then. The splint.” I don’t think either of us was looking forward to this part. I knew I wasn’t. No matter how gently we moved him, splinting Rabbit’s leg was going to cause him pain.

  We carried the two smaller pieces of sapling and the extra vines over to where Rabbit lay. After exchanging a glance, I nodded to Grant. “Let’s do it.”

  For a moment I was struck by the very un-me impression that I was a lot more mature than I’d been just a few months ago. Our adventures in time had forced me to grow up, whether I wanted to or not. The kid who got arrested for boosting a car and joyriding would never be calm enough to try to set a broken leg. I don’t think I would’ve even considered it. I probably would’ve just stared at Rabbit like a deer in headlights and, given the sad lack of emergency facilities in my immediate area, might’ve run in the opposite direction. I’m not proud of it—just being honest.

  But the things we’d done and seen when Merlin sent us back in time, what we’d lived through had changed me. Aged me. I’m almost surprised my hair didn’t turn as white as Merlin’s. Even realizing it proved I’d grown up. One look at Grant told me he felt the same. He looked as steady and determined as I felt. We had to help Rabbit. It was us or nothing, and nothing wasn’t an option.

  Rabbit’s leg was still bent at an unnatural angle. I took his leg and, as gently as I could, stretched it out straight.

  No matter how brave he was, this was probably a horrible process for Rabbit. He raised his head and screamed, then mercifully passed out. We hurried to finish splinting his leg before he woke up again. He was still out when we picked him up and placed him on the sling, tying him down with more vines.

  After it was done, Grant and I finally sat back to rest for a while. From the position of the sun, I figured we’d bee
n working nonstop for hours, and I, for one, was exhausted. We still had to carry Rabbit, who although small, probably weighed seventy or eighty pounds, God knew how far through the thick forest to the cave where he lived.

  I only hoped there was someone there who would be able to set his leg properly. I didn’t want to think about what would happen to him if it healed wrong and he couldn’t walk again. He seemed to put so much store in hunting, it probably wouldn’t be easy for him.

  We only allowed ourselves a short rest. It would be dark in a few hours, and the last thing we wanted was to have to spend the night roughing it in the forest with a local kid who had a busted leg, armed only with a sharp piece of flint and a stone knife. Besides, now I was eager to get Rabbit home to his people to find out if they had the talisman Merlin had sent us back to find.

  Chapter Four

  PULLING THE stretcher through the forest proved to be a tricky business, and there was no way Ash and I could hurry it along. We’d used vines to tie together several long branches. They were sturdy enough to support Rabbit’s weight—we hoped. Then I created a harness that looped around the chest and under the arms, allowing one of us to pull the contraption. It wouldn’t be easy, but Ash and I could take turns.

  No matter how careful we were, the makeshift vine sling swayed, and even though we’d secured Rabbit as best we could by tying him down, there was still the chance of it flipping. The last thing we needed was for Rabbit to be hurt more than he already was.

  I had the flint ax tucked into my belt, and Ash carried the quartz knife. Since neither of us had any experience whatsoever in using either one as a weapon, we were grateful that, so far at least, the only local fauna we’d seen were a few squirrels scampering up the trees and birds flying between them. I only hoped it would stay that way until we left the forest and reached the cave where the Bison Clan lived.

  The sun had slipped lower while we were still struggling to move the stretcher through the forest. Light was fading, and I began to fear we weren’t going to make it out before dark. “Ash? Maybe we ought to think about making camp for the night.”

  Ash, who was holding the front ends of the stretcher poles, stopped walking and twisted toward me. “What are you talking about? We can’t stay here tonight. There are things out here.”

  I knew what he meant. Things with claws. Things with teeth. Hungry things. Still, I didn’t see where we had a choice. “It’s getting dark, Ash. It’ll be way more dangerous to try to keep going than stopping for the night. We can build a nice, big fire. It’ll keep animals away.”

  “Like you know how to start a fire without gasoline and a match.”

  “Hey, we started one in Merlin’s office without the aid of accelerants.”

  For a minute, I thought mentioning the fire that destroyed Merlin’s office and got us into this mess in the first place was a mistake, but then Ash laughed. “Yeah, there’s that. Okay. How about over there? In that little clearing. Those two trees are almost touching—they’re like a wall. They’d protect our backs. With a big fire, I think we’d be fine until morning.” He paused a moment. “Hungry, but fine. Thirsty, but fine.”

  “I think we’ll survive until we get to the Bison Clan.”

  Rabbit stirred on his stretcher. “It is getting dark. We will not reach our cave before the sun sleeps.”

  “We were just talking about that. We think we should make camp for tonight.”

  Rabbit sighed and closed his eyes. I figured he knew it was going to be a long, painful night for him, although he didn’t say anything about it.

  Neither Ash nor I complained about camping, either. Going hungry and thirsty was far better than going hungry, thirsty, and being in terrible pain, and we both knew it.

  We gently set Rabbit down near the two huge trees and set about gathering firewood. We looked for dry, old pieces that would burn easily and small splintered pieces to serve as kindling. I remembered Rabbit mentioning he carried fire-making tools with him, and I was confident we could figure out how to use them. If not, we could always ask. Rabbit might think we were stupid for not knowing, though.

  It was a little embarrassing to think a ten-year-old could survive in the wild better than Ash and I could, no matter what century we were in. My ego, I knew, was taking a hit. I could only imagine Ash felt the same.

  Speaking of Ash, he was dumping a large armful of sticks into a pile in the middle of the small clearing. I added the sticks I’d collected to it.

  “You’re going to need bigger logs.” Rabbit managed a weak laugh despite the pain he must’ve been in. “Have you two never made a fire before?”

  “Oh, uh, of course we have.” It was true, after all. I was thinking of the one that burned down Merlin’s office, although I didn’t say it. “It’s just that we make fire differently where we come from.”

  Rabbit’s eyes opened wide. “Different fire? How? Fire is powerful magic. My father will want to know if there is another way to make it besides the fire stones.”

  I exchanged a panicked look with Ash. He jumped in, making it up as he went along. I had to admire his talent for improvisation.

  “Yeah, back home, a long, long way from here—you can’t even imagine how far it is, believe me—we have these magic sticks that make fire. They, uh, only grow on these special fire bushes. They don’t grow around here, and we don’t have any more with us.”

  “Oh. That’s too bad. Father will still be interested to hear your stories.” He closed his eyes again, although I don’t think he slept.

  It still amazed me that he hadn’t uttered a single complaint about the pain he was in. One of my younger stepbrothers broke his arm a summer or two ago, and he’d whined and complained so much—even with the painkillers he was on—my dad finally bought him an ATV just to shut him up. Rabbit was stronger than most grown men I knew, myself included. I doubted I could suffer in silence the way he did. Still, I knew the pain he was in and wanted to get the information I needed in case he passed out again. “So, Rabbit, you said we needed bigger logs?”

  He spoke, but his eyes remained closed. I could see him trembling a little too. Poor kid. “Yes. Not huge logs, but about the size of your lower leg. And some greener ones. They’ll burn slower than the deadfall. You gathered kindling?”

  “Yeah. We have some wood chips, twigs, and some fluffy plant stuff.”

  “Good. Gather some large rocks, place them in a circle around the logs. They’ll keep the fire from spreading and protect the spirit of the fire from the wind so you’ll still have heat all night. Then, when the fire burns down to coals, they will stay hot until the morning for you to use to start a new fire.”

  “Isn’t there a way to keep it burning all night?” Ash asked, but we were both thinking it. We were depending on the fire to keep animals away.

  Rabbit sighed, the sound reminding us how stupid he must think we were. “One of you will have to feed the fire spirit during the night, then. When it starts to burn down, you need to add more logs to keep the fire alive.”

  “Okay. That makes sense.” I looked at Ash. “We can take turns.”

  Ash nodded, agreeing with me. “So, Rabbit, how do you use your fire-making stones? I mean, I know how to use our fire sticks, but they may work differently.”

  “Gather your tinder, the wood bits and plant fluff. Take the fire stones and strike them together. If you strike them the right way, the fire spirit in them will throw out a spark. When it catches on the tinder, blow on it gently. Wind feeds the newborn fire. Once you have a flame, start feeding it little twigs and sticks, then the bigger logs.”

  “Got it. Thanks, Rabbit. Try to get some rest. We’ve got this.”

  He didn’t answer, but I knew he wasn’t sleeping either. I wished I had something I could give him to ease his pain, but I didn’t even have an aspirin on me. Merlin refused to let us bring anything back in time with us.

  Somewhere deep in the forest, an animal snarled. It was a vicious sound, angry, and it reverberated in the
otherwise silent wood. Ash and I looked at each other with wild eyes, then started moving faster, piling wood and gathering the rocks. We placed the large stones we found in a circle and set up the logs inside it. The sooner we had a nice, big, blazing bonfire, the safer I’d feel, although I was keeping the sharp hand ax within reach.

  Ash shook the fire stones out of the small leather bag. One was a piece of flint—I recognized it as a piece of the same stone the hand ax was made from—and the other, I was pretty sure, was iron pyrite. Fool’s gold, most people called it. My stepmother called it marcasite and had bought a $10,000 diamond and marcasite bracelet during one of the interminable shopping trips she’d dragged me on.

  Holding one stone in each hand, Ash struck them together at an angle, but nothing happened. We stared stupidly at the stones he held, as if they could tell us what he’d done wrong.

  “Hit them together many times. You must encourage the fire spirit to come out.” I’d been right about Rabbit. He wasn’t sleeping.

  Ash sighed and nodded. He bent over the pile of woody fluff and struck the stones together sharply, again and again. Every so often, I saw a bright spark jump from the stones. Eventually, one spark landed in the fluff and a tiny curl of smoke rose up.

  “You got it!” I felt excited, as if Ash had just struck oil instead of successfully using a prehistoric lighter. I watched as he bent even lower and blew gently on the smoldering flame. It glowed red with each breath, until finally a small flame flickered to life. It was my turn to help, and I slowly fed the flame bits of wood shavings and twigs.

  Finally, I graduated to larger sticks, until at last the larger logs caught and began to burn. It didn’t take nearly as long as I’d feared before we had a nice big fire burning brightly in our ring of stones.

  We both settled on the ground next to Rabbit’s stretcher, keeping the fire in front of us and the trees to our backs. I had the hand ax next to my foot, and I noticed Ash had the stone knife out of its sheath and within reach. I only hoped we didn’t have to try to use them to defend ourselves. I didn’t want to lay odds on our chances.