The Hunter Returns

by David Drake

  Because the humans had fallen so far, the scraps of horse carrion provided a feast beyond imagining. The folk of Wolf’s tribe were still hungry, but they were a tribe again. Mothers and children had ignored one another for the past several days in a rivalry of starvation. Now they resumed mutual grooming. People combed through one another’s hair with fingers and bits of bone, straightening tangles and cracking lice between their teeth and fingernails. Magnolia sat apart from the rest, but even she seemed to have relaxed slightly.

  Bearpaw sucked thoughtfully at a rib bone cracked lengthwise. Wolf chipped at a hand-axe, trying to convert it into a spearpoint. The flint axe was flawed by a grayish streak of shale, but it was the best stone available for the purpose just now.

  Kar knew the Chief Hunter was no spear-maker. Wolf’s big, calloused hands were strong, but they lacked the delicacy necessary to pressure-flake flint into a well-shaped weapon. The important thing was that Wolf was trying to improve the tribe’s condition instead of grimly stumbling from disaster to disaster the way he had done for so long.

  Stumbling was all the tribe had done since they cast Hawk out of their community. Kar’s lips pursed in concern as he settled another branch carefully on the fire. Throwing wood only scattered the coals. A properly made fire burned clean and bright. It did not shower sparks that threatened the hair of the folk the fire was intended to protect.

  Perhaps the tribe’s luck had turned. Perhaps matters now would improve to where they had been before Hawk’s exile—or even better, to the way they had been when Kar was a child and bison were easy to hunt!

  They heard the pack clucking and growling among themselves before they saw the beasts. They were plundering dogs, not true dogs, but similar enough in appearance. There were six of them, and they were ambling through the grass in the last twilight.

  One of the women wailed in frustration and misery. Bearpaw blinked in surprise. He gathered his spear as the Chief Fire-Maker added more wood to the fire. Wolf drew his club from beneath his waist thong and jumped to his feet.

  Wolf snarled. The leader of the plundering dogs snarled back at him. The pack spread out. The animals crouched with their powerful chests close to the ground.

  The plundering dogs had short, tawny fur. Their necks and chests were thick-muscled, but their hindquarters were relatively weak. The beasts were not able to run fast enough to capture game of their own—but they didn’t need to. Their huge, bone-crushing jaws enabled them to break up the skeletons that even the much larger dire wolves left at their kill sites.

  Under normal circumstances, plundering dogs were not a danger to tribes of human hunters. The beasts were not quick enough to attack a properly armed tribe; and anyway, the bones and hides that attracted the dogs were waste beneath the concern of humans to protect.

  Here, though, the remains of the long-dead horse provided the tribe’s first hope of survival in days. Kar’s face scrunched up in frustration like that which had driven the woman to tears. They couldn’t leave this food!

  But the Chief Fire-Maker knew they had to leave. The pack would begin snarling over scattered bones and the portions of horsehide at the edge of the firelight. Then they would move closer. As Kar used up the fuel piled within easy reach, the fire would die back to coals—and the humans would face a repetition of the disaster which had occurred the night they slept close to the bogged mammoth.

  This time the disaster would be worse and probably final. The plundering dogs were less dangerous enemies than the dire wolves had been, but for all practical purposes the tribe was without weapons. Jaws that could smash a bison thigh bone would rend human flesh with ease. If the tribe had a sufficiency of weapons, a volley of spears would kill or maim most of the small pack before the animals could close.

  One thrown spear would only infuriate the remaining dogs, even if it killed; and the tribe’s sole spear was too valuable to throw.

  Wolf’s face bore a beastlike expression of its own as he glared at the plundering dogs. All the folk of the tribe were on their feet, clutching anything that could be used as a weapon if the pack rushed them. The tribe’s arsenal was pitifully slight. The women hefted hand-axes, digging tools, and clubs, while the half-grown children hunched with stones and jagged bone splinters in their hands.

  The Chief Hunter had his club. Bearpaw held his spear ready. He edged sideways to face a big male dog creeping closer from the edge of the pack’s arc. Kar sighed and dragged out a branch with which he had fed the fire some minutes before. The upper half of the wood blazed brightly, but there was still a comfortable unburned length by which the Chief Fire-Maker could hold his weapon.

  The torch looked like a dangerous threat. Kar knew well that if a dog had the courage to leap at him despite the torch, the beast would bring down its prey and suffer only minor burns in the process.

  The plundering dogs snarled and slunk closer. The sky was still light enough to show the animals as shapes in the grass instead of merely cruel, glinting eyes. Kar glanced at Wolf. In a moment, it was going to be too late for the tribe to attempt to flee—as they must do.

  The Chief Hunter must have felt the same thing, because he suddenly sagged. “We will leave the rest of the horse to them,” he said loudly. “There’s nothing left anyway.”

  Wolf began to back away, staying between the advancing pack and the folk for whom he was responsible. Kar waved his torch furiously and backed also. A big bitch with black markings jumped to her feet. She circled, snarling, to avoid the light and sparks of the torch.

  The campfire was now between the Chief Fire-Maker and Wolf. Bearpaw was near the Chief Hunter, facing outward to prevent the pack from closing in from that side. The women and children obeyed Wolf’s order with relief, although they knew that the remaining scraps of carrion were still more meat than they had had for days until they stumbled onto the horse.

  One of the boys darted ahead of the tight group. The swift movement drew the attention of the dog which Kar’s torch had driven wide. The boy’s weapon was a sliver of the horse’s foreleg, broken into a dangerous point when one of the tribe searched it for marrow. The bitch may have been more interested in the bone than the youth holding it. Whatever the reason, she rushed in with her huge jaws open.

  Kar shouted and hurled his torch at the big dog. He knew as soon as the wood left his hand that he had made a mistake. He was now unarmed, and the campfire separated both the other adult males from the immediate threat.

  The burning branch slammed into the bitch’s shoulder, rocking her onto her side with its weight. Her fur ignited in pale, stinking flames. The boy threw up one hand to protect his face and stabbed with the other. The plundering dog rolled to her feet and slammed powerful jaws closed on the boy’s hand and weapon together. There was a black, singed patch on the animal’s hide, but the short fur could not sustain a fire by itself.

  The boy screamed as the dog started to drag him away. A woman ran from the tight throng of humans with her hand-axe raised high to rescue her son. The whole pack of plundering dogs moved toward the prey with the speed and grace of water tumbling over a cliff. The leader snapped at Kar. The Chief Fire-Maker shrieked and jumped away, barely avoiding jaws that reeked of carrion and death. Two more of the dogs grasped the mother by the opposite ankle and arm before she could even strike the bitch which held her boy.

  The two humans disappeared in a mass of tawny, snarling bodies. It seemed incredible that only six dogs could have so many legs. The screaming stopped almost immediately, but the sound of cracking bones continued.

  Wolf had leaped the campfire in an attempt to help the victims. There was obviously nothing more to be done.

  “Come!” shouted the Chief Hunter. “We must leave this place.”

  Kar grabbed another burning branch to light their escape. The tribe moved quickly away from the kill site.

  The plundering dogs ignored the surviving humans. The beasts’ present prey was ample for this night.

  CAVE BEAR

  T
he great cave bears were large and powerful, and as ferocious as saber-tooths when aroused. If a dozen hunters attacked one they could kill it, but somebody was almost sure to be hurt. For one man to attack a bear deliberately was unthinkable.

  But Hawk had learned a valuable lesson from his encounter with the giant sloth. They were larger than bears, and though slow and stupid, they had enormous vitality. Since the dull-witted sloth had been disconcerted when smoke blew about its head, Hawk thought it might be possible to smoke the great cave bear out of its cave.

  That would not be the end of it, he realized. The monster bear would not willingly relinquish its home and would get back in if it were possible. Such a beast, always lurking about and awaiting an opportunity to reenter, would be far too dangerous to leave around the cave. Therefore the bear would have to be killed.

  Hawk reviewed his plan, in his mind going over and over each tiny detail. He knew that he must have everything right beforehand, because once the fight was started there would be no stopping it and even a minor slip could spell disaster.

  As they approached the cave, Hawk gave Willow his torch, and told her to hold the dog. Then he went on alone.

  He advanced cautiously, carefully staying downwind, until he could see the bear. It was outside the cave, busy ripping the lower branches off a tree laden so heavily with purple, meaty berries that some of the branches were already broken from the weight of the fruit alone. Hawk parted a leafy branch so he could see better.

  The bear was about forty feet from the door of its cave, eating berries from a branch it had broken. It licked furry chops with a berry-stained tongue, and looked all around. Then it reared on its hind paws, braced its body against the tree, and ripped another branch down.

  Hawk shivered, partly from excitement and partly from nervous fear. The bear was a monstrous beast, three-quarters of a ton of sheer brute strength. It would not be an easy thing to overcome.

  The bear turned, silently and swiftly for all its bulk, and gazed steadily at the tree behind which Hawk lay. Some eddying breeze had carried an alien scent to it, or perhaps some deep-seated instinct had merely made it suspicious. At any rate it was alert, without being sure of just what might be trespassing on its domain.

  Hawk slipped away. He moved slowly, always careful to place his feet so that he would make no noise and traveling with the wind. Conditions were as he had hoped to find them, and now he could put the rest of his plan into effect.

  When there was sufficient distance between himself and the bear, Hawk ran swiftly back to Willow and the dog. He looked to his supply of darts, picked up his hand spear and throwing-stick, but left Willow with the torch. She fell in behind him when he started back toward the bear.

  The dog trotted tensely by his side, sensing that they were after game which the man had already located. Furthermore, since the man kept the dog beside him, it would be dangerous game. Hawk stopped, and the dog stopped beside him, quivering with excitement.

  The blazing torch in her hand, Willow waited questioningly. She, too, had a part in this or she would not have been brought along. But, like the dog, she did not as yet clearly understand what that part was. Hawk turned to her.

  “The dog and I will drive the bear into the cave,” he explained. “Stay here with the torch until you hear me call. Then come as fast as you can and give the torch to me.”

  “I understand.”

  The dog at his side, Hawk slipped away. They came within the area where the bear’s scent could be detected, and the dog looked inquiringly at Hawk. The man did not turn aside and the dog moved two steps ahead of him, sure now of their quarry. Ordinarily they avoided creatures as powerful as this, but the dog was willing to fight anything as long as the man thought it should be fought.

  Making no attempt at concealment, Hawk walked openly into the clearing in front of the cave.

  Having scented or heard him, the bear was waiting. It stood at the foot of the tree from which it had been ripping branches, feet braced and tensely alert. Its ears were flicked forward, its eyes questioning, and its snout moving slowly from side to side. The bear took an uncertain step, and reared on its hind legs the better to see. Dropping to the ground, it stood still a moment more and then snarled, its jaws gaping wide. Hawk fitted a dart into his throwing-stick, shouted and bounded forward.

  He stopped suddenly, for this was part of his plan. To wound the bear where it was, and to lack a place of refuge, would mean disaster. The bear must be driven into the cave and forced to take a temporary stand there. Hawk had started a false attack to incite the dog; he wanted him to go after the bear on his own initiative.

  The dog snarled forward. Hawk halted, and stepped back with the dart still poised in his throwing-stick. If his plan went wrong now he would have to go in anyway and help the dog. He watched tensely.

  The bear remained beneath the tree, snarling at the onrushing dog. Then, when less than twenty feet separated them, the bear wheeled and lumbered into its cave. It turned about in the entrance, knowing that it could defend itself there.

  Hawk breathed easier. This was the way he had hoped it would work out. The bear would not run from a man, but it had been assaulted by at least one pack of wolves and, presumably, by wild dogs as well. It knew that it could stand them off if protected on three sides by the mouth of the cave.

  The bear’s enormous head and front shoulders protruded from the cave. The dog leaped in and out again, never going near enough to be hit by one of those sledgehammer paws.

  Keeping his throwing-stick beside him, and a dart ready, Hawk grasped a handful of dry grass, wrenched it loose, and laid it on the ground about twenty feet from the cave’s opening. A gust of wind scattered the little pile, and Hawk laid a dart on it to hold it. He gathered more dry grass, and more, until he had a great pile. Then he raced to a bit of nearby marshland, pulled up some swamp roots and damp muck, and laid them on top of the grass. Then he called Willow.

  At the cave, the dog continued to harass the bear. He feinted, growling and barking, and leaped in to snap whenever an opportunity offered. But at no time did he put himself within reach of the bear’s paws, which would have broken his back as easily as a stone breaks an egg.

  The blazing torch in her hand, Willow broke out of the forest and ran lightly into the clearing. Handing the torch to Hawk, she stepped back, cast about until she found two rocks, and held one in each hand while she awaited whatever came.

  “Stay near the fire,” Hawk cautioned Willow. “Don’t leave it no matter what happens.”

  He touched the torch to the great heap of dried grass he had gathered, and threw the torch on top of the pile. The sun-dried grass exploded in a roar of flame, and for a moment blazed high. Then, the readily combustible portion having burned out, thick yellow smoke rose from the wet swamp refuse. Hawk stepped back, his darts ready.

  So far everything had worked well, even the wind’s direction and force. What happened now depended on whether or not he had been able to guess how a cave bear would react to smoke.

  Like a large, elongated feather, yellow smoke curled toward the cave. It paused there, as though not quite knowing where to go, then sent an exploring finger into the cave. The bear backed up. In a moment it was almost hidden by smoke; only its furious snarls showed it was still there. Suddenly the bear came out.

  Every hair on its body was erect, lending it an appearance of being much bigger than it was. Coughing, snapping its jaws continuously, roaring mad, it ran to one side of the fire, out of the smoke, whirled about, and faced the two humans. The dog bored in from the side, and the bear swung to slap ineffectively at him.

  A dart ready, Hawk advanced. The crucial test had come; from now on it was up to him and the dog. Hawk hurled his dart with all his strength. It sang through the air, and buried half its length in the bear’s shaggy side.

  The bear stood erect, a mountain of flesh that for a moment walked on its legs like a man. Dropping to all fours, it exploded its fury in a mighty, snarling roar
, and charged.

  Hawk retreated back toward the smoldering fire. In attacking the great cave bear, he had counted on the fire as a safe retreat. Now his reckoning was to endure the acid test; would fire stop a wounded, enraged bear?

  A thick plume of smoke enveloped the oncoming bear. It stopped, shifting its forepaws uneasily, and backed up. The dog threw himself furiously upon it.

  Another dart fixed in his throwing-stick, Hawk walked out of the smoke to where he could have a clear view. The bear, safely away from the smoke, was sparring with the dog. Hawk loped toward them, and when he was near enough he threw the dart. The bear turned, bawling its rage, and bit at the shaft protruding from its side. Then it threw itself at the dog.

  Hawk readied another dart, and circled to get in good throwing position. Careful not to let the bear between himself and the smoke blanket, he threw the third dart.

  The bear grunted, spun in an erratic circle, and struck with blind fury at a nearby clump of grass. As though that were its real foe, and the thing that had hurt it, it hit again and again until the grass was ripped to shreds. It lumbered to another grass tuft and destroyed that. When the dog came near it bellowed at him and in a series of insane hops tried to pin him between its front paws.

  Hawk followed, ready to shoot another dart. But since he could not tell which way the wounded bear would leap or what it would attack, he dared not get too near.

  The bear broke suddenly. Racing across the clearing in long leaps, it headed straight for the sheltering trees. Running, it was a terrifying sight. Blocky legs worked like swiftly moving pistons, carrying the bear’s huge body along so fast that even the pursuing dog was hard put to keep up.

  Although the dog was barking and snarling continuously, the sounds of the running pursuit faded deeper and deeper into the forest. Hawk followed, confident now that his battle was won. The bear would run for a long way, probably, but the darts were sunken deeply and eventually they must take their toll of even such strength as the bear’s. It could not run on forever.