by Dakota Chase
“Go past the practice field. There will be a gully. Rains wash the waste down the hill.” He pointed to where the teens were readying for target practice.
Ash and I hurried in that direction, smiling at everyone who looked friendly and trying to ignore those who did not. The one person I was glad I didn’t see that morning was Snow Owl. Maybe he was still inside the cave. I was grateful I didn’t have to see his sour, suspicious face first thing in the morning.
The preteens were more reserved than their elders or younger brothers and sisters. Like a lot of kids I knew back home, they weren’t openly hostile, like Snow Owl, but they were wary of two boys old enough to be adults of the Bison Clan yet claimed they hadn’t earned their hunting talismans yet, and who seemed to be horning in on their established territory. Like new kids at school, we were being sized up and evaluated by the existing clique. I didn’t like it, but at least I understood it.
We found the gully several hundred yards past the edge of the practice field. It was exactly that—a dip in the ground. At the moment, we were downwind, for which I was grateful. The stink was bad enough without the wind blowing it directly into our faces. After all, the entire Bison Clan defecated and peed in this gully. Gross, but we had no other choice. I noticed a basket filled with handfuls of some sort of fluff. Animal hair, it looked like.
“What’s this for?” Ash picked up a handful. It was very soft, and light gray in color.
“I’m thinking it’s the Bison Clan version of toilet paper.”
“Ew!” Ash dropped it back into the basket as if it was hot. “Seriously, dude, next time Merlin sends us back into time, I’m smuggling in a roll of Charmin.”
I chuckled, then went about emptying my bladder. The sigh that escaped my lips as the fullness eased couldn’t be helped. It was a relief, plain and simple, but I really didn’t want to think about what it was going to be like using a communal toilet when I had to make use of the basket of fluff. I mean, peeing was no worse than using a urinal in a public men’s room, but going number two demanded privacy, dammit!
No. No way was I squatting over an open pit in full view of whoever else needed to take a dump. I’d take my chances with the bear and lynx and whatever else might be roaming around the forested hillside, find a nice private bush, and go there.
Afterward we returned to the fireplace, where Bear Paw introduced us to the older woman. Her name was White Elk, and I’d been right—she was Bear Paw’s mother. She handed us steaming cups of mint tea and bowls of leftover stew, then left to help Red Fox with the children.
“You have a nice family, Bear Paw.” I meant it too. They were nice, and the kids were cute.
Ash nodded. “Thanks for everything. For letting us stay with you and feeding us and all.”
Bear Paw cocked his head. “You are friends of the Bison Clan. The Bison Clan take care of one another. It is the way.”
I nodded. If only people in our own time acted more like the Bison Clan, we’d probably all be better off.
We finished eating and drinking, then returned our bowls and cups to the pile near the central fire and followed Bear Paw toward the wooded hillside. About fifty yards past the beginning of the forest, we came to another clearing. Large rocks had been dragged there to use as seats, and Gray Wolf and the rest of the hunters were seated on them, waiting for us. To my disappointment, Snow Owl was among them, and he didn’t look any friendlier this morning than he had last night.
I looked at the rest of the hunters as an excuse to avoid staring at Snow Owl. It was then I noticed that all the hunters had names taken from animals, and all wore a piece of pelt or feather that came from the animal for which they were named. Gray Wolf wore a hat fashioned from the skull of an actual wolf. I wondered if only those named after animals or birds could be hunters, or if people, like Summer Wind, for example, who didn’t have predatory names, gave up their birth names and took different ones when they became hunters. I made a mental note to ask later.
Gray Wolf stood up. “You are strangers to us yet come to us with open knife hands. You’ve helped one of ours, the boy, Rabbit, who otherwise may have been taken by the lynx or some other predator while he lay alone and injured. He is my son and will one day grow up to lead the Bison Clan, if the spirits favor him. We are grateful for your help.”
He fell silent but looked hard at us, and I got the feeling we were supposed to respond in some way. “It was luck that brought us to Rabbit when he needed us.” I saw a frown begin to knit Gray Wolf’s eyebrows, and quickly amended myself. “I mean spirits. The spirits brought us there. We are happy we were able to help him. He’s a, um, strong boy, and brave. He bore the pain like a man.” I had no idea if it was the right thing to say, but judging from the pleased smiles on the hunters’ faces, I guessed it was. “We’re also grateful for the food and shelter offered us by the Bison Clan. We’re from far away, and alone in this land. Your kindness and friendship are much appreciated.”
Ash nodded. “Right. Thank you for everything.”
Gray Wolf nodded. It must’ve been an appropriate response. “I would know how the two men from Far Away come to be in the land of the Bison Clan without weapons. I see no spears or bows or slings. Not even a knife between you.”
This was going to be harder to explain. While I was thinking of a suitable lie, Ash jumped in and did it for me. “Grass and I were making a long journey, to see new things, meet new people, make new friends, like the Bison Clan.”
Ugh. I was going to beat the crap out of him later for perpetuating the mistaken pronunciation of my name. I was going to forever be “Grass” to the Bison Clan. Dammit!
Ash continued as if blissfully unaware I was seething when in reality, he probably knew exactly how much he’d pissed me off. “We had an accident. We were, um….” He trailed off a moment but picked up quickly. Ash was really, really good at improvisation. “Crossing a river. A big one, really deep. We lost everything we had on the way over. Our weapons, knapsacks, everything.”
Gray Wolf and the others were nodding in sympathy. I guess they’d either had similar experiences or knew of people who had. Or perhaps they knew of wide, rough rivers and could imagine a treacherous crossing. “That explains it. Soon the Bison Clan will make the journey north toward the great ice wall to hunt the Great Ones. We invite you to journey with us—”
Snow Owl suddenly jumped to his feet and shouted, interrupting Gray Wolf. “No! They can’t come. It’s not allowed. These men aren’t Bison Clan! The spirits would be very angry. They will not send the Great Ones to the Bison Clan. The hunt will fail, and the Bison Clan will starve!”
Gray Wolf cast a black scowl at Snow Owl. He was obviously angry at being contradicted. “They are friends of the Bison Clan. The spirits showed trust in them by leading them to Rabbit. The spirits will not mind if they hunt with us. They will come with us. It is decided.”
“They are not even hunters! Where are their talismans?” Snow Owl’s lips spread into a snide, satisfied smile, as if he’d scored a winning point.
Gray Wolf looked at Ash and me. “You are full-grown men. Surely you have proved yourselves hunters? Show Snow Owl your talismans and let us settle this.”
Ash and I exchanged worried glances. Inspiration struck and the lie sounded plausible to me, but I could only hope Gray Wolf would buy it. “It is normal for our people to become adults at our age.” That much was true, at least. Didn’t they say every believable lie starts with a nugget of truth? “We are on our manhood trek. That’s why we’re here, so far from home. We wish to see new things, meet new people, but also to learn to hunt.”
Gray Wolf’s eyes opened wide. “Your people send their young ones out alone into the wilderness to prove themselves? With no experienced hunters at their backs? With no training?”
Ash jumped in. “Um, yeah. They do. Scary, huh?”
“We do not do such things. We value our young ones, teach them, protect them, and when the time is right, we take them on a hunt. If the
y make a kill, they prove themselves. If not, they will try again later.” Gray Wolf shook his head at the folly of strange people and their beliefs. “It matters not. There is time before we march north. The Great Ones will not migrate there until later in the season. There is time to train you, to make sure you are ready.”
Snow Owl wasn’t backing down. His words were for Gray Wolf, but his venomous glare was directed at Ash and me. “It is as I said—they are no hunters. You would risk the Bison Clan by bringing strangers with us on the hunt? You will destroy us!”
Bear Paw interjected on our behalf. “The spirits favor them. They saved Rabbit and brought him home.”
“You know nothing of the ways of the spirits! What of the Deer Clan? If they see we allow these strange ones to hunt with us, they will think Gray Wolf is a weak leader. They will try to take our cave and land!”
“Be silent!” Gray Wolf roared. I could see shock in the other hunters’ faces. It must be rare for him to lose his temper at a meeting like this. “I am leader, and I have decided!”
Blood flushed Snow Owl’s pasty cheeks an angry pink, and he looked as if he was going to argue further, but eventually he backed down under Gray Wolf’s stony glare. Only when Snow Owl sat down again and looked away did Gray Wolf continue. “Snow Owl is our shaman, and his magic is powerful, but sometimes he forgets it is Gray Wolf who leads the hunters and the Bison Clan.”
Ouch. I guess Snow Owl wasn’t likely to want to exchange friendship bracelets with Ash and me anytime soon. In fact, I was pretty sure we’d made an enemy out of him. He’d bear watching, for sure.
Also, I made a mental note to find out who the Deer Clan were and why Snow Owl was afraid they’d attack the Bison Clan.
“We’d be grateful to Gray Wolf and the Bison Clan for the opportunity to hunt the, um, Great Ones with you.” I had no idea what the “Great Ones” were or how to hunt them, but I guessed we’d figure it out soon enough. How hard could it be to throw a spear? It wasn’t like they had semiautomatic weapons and we could possibly shoot off a foot or worse. Still, trying to hunt anything the Bison Clan called “great” made me nervous.
“Good.” Gray Wolf stood up. He gestured toward another man sitting close by. “Come. I will bring you to the practice field and tell Musk Ox to train you along with the others. The Great Ones don’t have fangs or claws, but they are among the most dangerous game because of their size, strength, and tusks. They are smart too. Pay close attention to Musk Ox and learn all you can.”
We walked slowly and put a little distance between us and the rest of the hunters as we walked toward the practice field. Ash whispered to me as we followed behind. I could hear the worry in his voice, and it echoed the unease I was feeling. “What the hell are ‘Great Ones’? What are we supposed to do now? The only hunting I’ve ever done is on a game console.”
An idea suddenly occurred to me. Size? Strength? Tusks? “The drawing on the talisman we’re supposed to find? It looked like an elephant, right?”
“Yeah. So?”
“Well, I think we’re going to hunt elephants, Ash. Or at least what passes for them in this time period. Mammoth. I think we’re going on a mammoth hunt!”
Ash paled, and his eyes flashed wide open. “Please tell me mammoths are tiny versions of elephants. Like pocket-sized.”
“I don’t think they’d called them the ‘Great Ones’ if they were.”
“Oh God. We’re dead. We’re totally dead.”
“Shh. We can’t let them think we’re afraid, Ash. We need to find the talisman. Remember what Rabbit said? When a kid proves his manhood on a hunt, he gets a talisman. One of those kids in the practice field may bring down a mammoth on this hunt. It stands to reason the animal they kill will be put on their hunting talisman.”
Understanding dawned on Ash’s face and brought back a little color to his cheeks. “Oh, I get it! That would be the talisman we’re looking for, right?”
“Bingo.”
“Great. So, all we have to do is fake being hunters, survive a dangerous hunt against gigantic hairy prehistoric elephants, and steal the talisman from whoever earns it. Easy-peasy. Not.”
“You are such a pessimist.”
“At least I’m not an ass.”
“Don’t start that again. I’m not in the mood.”
“Like I care what mood you’re in.”
I rolled my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. Now was not the time to argue. “Come on. Don’t get pissy. We need to help each other right now, not argue.”
He didn’t reply, but he huffed and gave me a small nod. I counted it as a victory.
Chapter Seven
A HALF dozen kids were standing on the practice field when Grant and I arrived with the rest of the hunters. The kids all looked young, maybe between ten and thirteen years old. An older man with more gray than brown in his hair watched them cast spears at the stuffed targets placed on the far side of the clearing. He looked at us as we approached.
“How are the young ones progressing in their training?” Gray Wolf smiled at the group.
Musk Ox grinned back. “They do well. Snow Grouse in particular has a strong arm. Willow’s casts are not as powerful, but she has good accuracy. The others are coming along as well. They all work hard.”
Gray Wolf nodded. “Good. They will take their places as hunters of the Bison Clan before long.”
It was obvious from their beaming faces that Musk Ox and Gray Wolf’s praise meant a lot to the kids. Probably felt like getting a compliment from your idol or a celebrity. We exchanged a few hesitant smiles with them while we waited for Gray Wolf to speak with Musk Ox about our training, but none of them looked exactly welcoming.
“Welcome, Grass and Ash. Come, stand here.” Musk Ox motioned us forward and lined us up with the rest of the kids. We stood at least a head taller than the rest of them, and I, for one, felt like a high schooler standing with a bunch of middle schoolers, and then I realized that’s exactly what I was.
Musk Ox went to a stack of what looked like sticks and brought back a few, along with two wooden shafts. Both were about three feet long and had a backstop at one end. There were two leather loops dangling at the other end. “This is an atlatl—a spear thrower. Do your people use them?”
Grant and I exchanged a look, and he answered. “Um, no. The American tribe doesn’t use them. How do they work?”
Musk Ox nodded. “I am not surprised. We believe they are a gift from our totems to the Bison Clan. There is a legend about the Spirit of the Great Tree giving its flesh to the Bison Clan to make the first atlatl. It is what helped our forefathers hunt better and survive the Long Winter. That was in the yesterday of yesterdays, long before the voyage across the Endless Sea that brought the Bison Clan to this land.” He picked up a spear and showed it to us. “The Bison Clan tip their spears with flint. It is sharp enough to pierce thick hides and slide between rib bones.”
The spear points looked deadly, sure enough. They were roughly triangular in shape, and I could see the chips and nicks where the knapper broke off tiny pieces of stone to shape it into a point. The edges looked razor-sharp.
“The atlatl increases the reach of the arm. With it, a spear can be thrown much farther and faster than anyone can throw by hand.” Musk Ox fit the spear into the atlatl by placing it on the atlatl’s shaft until the butt of the spear hit the backstop. His forefinger and middle finger slipped into the leather loops at the other end, and then he threw the spear. The atlatl flipped forward, extending his reach by three feet, and the spear sailed like a missile toward the other end of the practice field. The flint tip embedded in one of the padded targets, where the shaft quivered a bit. He turned toward Grant and me, holding out the atlatl. “It should be fitted to the arm, but this one should do for either of you until you can trade with Badger to measure and carve you each your own. He is the Bison Clan’s best carver.”
I had to admit Musk Ox’s throw was impressive, and I was excited to try the a
tlatl myself. I grabbed for it before Grant could and grinned when I beat him to the punch.
Musk Ox handed me a spear, and I soon found out using an atlatl was a lot harder than it looked. It felt awkward to hold the spear balanced precariously on the wooden shaft, with my arm bent and my fingers in the loops. When I cast, the spear flew in a wobbly line and skidded to a halt in the grass only a few feet in front of me.
I felt my cheeks heat up at the sound of laughter coming from the kids who’d gathered behind me to watch my lesson. Grant was watching me with a cocked eyebrow—he was probably wondering what I was going to do. He knew I didn’t like being laughed at. Nobody did, right? It was embarrassing.
“Hey, at least you threw it. Let me try.” Grant took the atlatl from me and a spear from Musk Ox. He repeated what I’d done and cast his spear. It flew a bit farther than mine, but not by much. “Wow. That is not easy.”
Musk Ox grunted. “You will get better. Most don’t even get the spear to fly on the first try.” He cast a meaningful look at one of the kids who’d been laughing loudest. “Cricket, I seem to remember you could not even manage to keep the spear on the atlatl at first.”
One of the older boys who’d laughed loudest quickly silenced himself and looked uncomfortable, which made me feel a little better and a lot more smug. I couldn’t help it. Blame it on my competitive nature.
Soon enough, Grant and I were caught up in the sport of casting spears at the target, running to retrieve them, and casting again, and I forgot all about the kids who’d laughed. Musk Ox was right—we did get better the more we practiced. By the end of the afternoon, my spears were reaching the targets, even if I had yet to actually hit one. Grant hit a target once, although his spear didn’t stick and bounced off. I refused to admit his skill was better than mine. Mostly because I was jealous, not that I’d confess that to him either.
