by Laura Jack
They avoided the larger stags, injured and exhausted from recent fights - the meat would be awful to taste. Brinan settled behind his boulder and watched a doe graze closer and closer until he could have reached out and touched her. He held his breath, fearing he might alert her and ruin the hunt for the others. She passed by and he watched and waited, ignoring the buzz of flies attracted to the sweat and dung on his brow. Arguus and Jonan were close enough to a young stag to make a throw. Dovan and Yorak signalled that they were in place to try for a kill with two other young stags. At a signal from Yorak, the hunters raised their spears silently and fired. In the split second that they did so, the deer looked up in alarm. Arguus’ stag was too slow and both Arguus and Jonan struck a fatal blow. Dovan too, was successful with a young buck. Yorak’s stag was wounded but not mortally. It leapt across the heather heading for the safety of the trees – right towards Brinan.
“Finish it,” roared Yorak to Brinan. Brinan stood up slowly, as if in a dream and raised his spear. Oh, Magda that stag was big . . . and powerful . . . and raging with pain! Time seemed to slow right down. The stag bore down on him. Instead of throwing the spear, Brinan dived over the side of the hill just as the enraged stag lunged for him avoiding a collision. The stag continued on as terrified, Brinan lay in the ditch shaking with fear. In a heartbeat his fear was replaced by shame.
He wasn’t ready for the conflicting emotions that overwhelmed him in that moment. Since he was seven years old, he had trapped small game and hunted fish. But small game was usually dead when he found it in a trap and the fish he caught seemed soulless. That young stag, had looked at him in a way that touched his soul and he hesitated to kill it before it had reached its prime. All the excitement and pride had left him as he stared after the powerful animal bounding across the heather.
He didn’t notice Arguus come up behind him until the man put a hand on his shoulder and whispered in a low voice. “There is no shame in not making a kill.” Then he turned to Yorak.
“Get after it, otherwise he would have had a slow, miserable death.”
Brinan felt even worse, he had not only failed the hunters, he had failed the stag and resigned it to a slow and stressful end to it’s life. Arguus seemed to know what he was thinking.
“It will get easier, I promise.” Arguus assured him. “It’s time for you to make use of that knife I gave you, help skin and gut these animals so we don’t damage the hide or taint the meat.”
As he sweated over the physical effort of skinning the stag, Brinan’s initial shame deepened as he analysed what had happened.
He wasn’t really expected to make a kill after all . . . but the animal had run right into him . . . his first instinct had been to aim, but it was over-ridden by the desire to live - and get out of the way of danger . . . He had picked up his spear on impulse with no real plan to stop the animal . . . Finally, and worst of all, he had made more work for Yorak who would have to trek after the injured animal.
“Don’t hack at it like that, we want the hide in one piece,” Arguus’s voice made Brinan jump. He realized his uncle had been speaking to him but, lost in thought, had missed most of the conversation.
“Sorry.” His morale slumped even further, he couldn’t even get butchering the animal right.
The evening meal outside the cave that night was a celebration of the Clans first deer kill. Deema cooked up some of the steaks for every member of the Wolf Clan while the rest of the meat was cut into thin strips and dried for winter storage.
Everyone remarked on how tender the meat was and if Yorak had told the story of how Brinan had dived for cover when the stag ran to him, he told it a dozen times - laughing raucously. Brinan burned with shame and didn’t notice Arguus elbow Yorak in the ribs and gesture towards Brinan. The smile left Yorak’s face for a moment then he slapped Arguus on the back and told a story of how, when they were younger, both men had been chased by an angry boar and were stuck up a tree for a whole day.
“Sometimes it’s wiser to save your own hide than try for one!” Grunted Yorak. “You did well to get out of that animals way today, or it would have gored you for sure.” It was backhanded praise from the hunter. Brinan nodded, desolate, rather than elated.
“You’ll never forget your first kill,” mused Argus. “Holla!” A deep voice boomed out from the dusk. As the owner of the voice moved in to the light of the drying fires, Callum let out a holler of greeting.
“Uncle Felmas!” Callom ran to his uncle and hugged him fiercely. He had been feeling a bit left out with everyone praising Brinan; the arrival of his uncle had thrust those emotions out of his mind. Rather than being annoyed, Brinan felt grateful to Felmas, now all campfire talk would be centred round the returned traveller and he was as keen as everyone else to hear what Felmas had to say.
Felmas had travelled north west, near a great inland sea where the glacier covered the northern edge of it. He talked of meeting and hunting with the Mammoth Clan and the Reindeer Clan and how the two Clans talked of merging their resources. The Mammoth Clan were not as prolific as they had once been, the Reindeer Clan on the other hand, were numerous and prosperous but they were short of women and children due to their constant travels and sicknesses.
The Reindeer Clan had no permanent cave, they moved with the animals they hunted; living in large round tents they called yurts. The Mammoth Clan, on the other hand, had spectacular permanent shelters made from mammoth and reindeer bones, Brinan tried hard to imagine how a cave could be made from bones. The two Clans often met because the shelters of the Mammoth Clan in the far North were on the migration routes of the reindeer herds that the Reindeer Clan followed.
“And are they?” Deema asked finally.
“Are they what?” Felmas replied.
“Going to merge, and if so what will they be called; Reindeer Clan or Mammoth Clan?”
“Hard to say,” said Felmas helping himself to another slice of venison. “Not everyone was for the idea and the matter of what they would be called was a big issue. The Mammoth Clan refused to give up their name despite being the smaller and the Reindeer Clan refused to give up theirs on the grounds they were more prosperous. Then the Mammoth Clan argued that the Reindeer Clan was on Mammoth Clan territory and hoping to mate with Mammoth Clan women. Pride is a wonderful motivation but can be a barrier to progress when it comes to negotiations.”
“Who can blame them, I would rather be dead than give up the Wolf Clan name.” stated Arguus fiercely. Everyone nodded their agreement, feeling a tug of pride in their heartstrings.
“All the Clans go back uncountable generations. Many think it would be an insult to the ancestors to give up our names.” Tamo added, the spiritual implications adding weight to their feelings.
“Why didn’t they just call themselves something else all together?” Serena suggested. “A new name for a new beginning?”
Everyone, apart from Tamo, caught their breathe. Tamo just smiled as if what Serena had suggested affirmed his belief in her.
“Are you saying you would give up the status of Wolf Clan?” Deema tried to keep her voice level but it clearly offended her.
“No mother! Honestly, don’t get so wound up.” Now Serena was on the defensive. “I would pick a worthy name, something with greater meaning and respect to identify the new Clan but we would each keep our original names. It doesn’t hurt to think of new things. Aren’t you always saying that the Wolf Clan was always the first to explore new territories, push new boundaries like our namesakes?”
“Yes, but that’s the very reason we will always be called the Wolf Clan.”
“That, and the thought of some other Clan taking our name!” Added Arguus. “Do you remember that Clan from the far South that called itself Boar Clan and tried to imply that our Boar Clan was descended from them.”
“It’s a possibility.” Said Tamo. “It was in their histories that a faction of their Clan left their cave to explore new territories, it’s reasonable to assume the Boar Clan i
n the North is related to them.” Then he added. “Remind me Serena, to verse you on the histories in our studies tomorrow. It would seem that you of all here will appreciate them the most.”
“Hmmph!” Arguus wasn’t the only one who felt indignant at this. Serena felt that somehow she had been praised by the Shaman. Deema tactfully changed the subject.
“Well Felmus, you have managed to bring an argument a long way. Have you brought anything else, perhaps something more practical, back with you?”
“Of course! Knowledge is always my aim - and a wellspring of ideas is already taking root. I’m working on a new boat design, perhaps Callom, you will help me this winter? Oh, and I may have brought a gift or two as well.” He added with a glint of mischief, producing a necklace of amber beads and presenting them to the headwoman.
“For you, Deema, from that new mine that has been discovered just south of the inland sea. The one Emosnar, the story teller, told us about. Since several Clans have sent people to mine the amber, no one Clan has a claim on it. Worth a trip to excavate next spring don’t you think?”
Deema took the warm stones and appraised them in the firelight. “I think that would be a very good idea.” She smiled inwardly. Amber was as much valued for it’s rareness as flint was for its practical purposes and Deema was a master at bargaining for the wealth of her Clan.
“Did you get me anything?” Matina asked outright, too young to know it was bad manners to do so.
“As if I would be gone all this time and not bring back something for you.” Squeaked Felmas in a tone he only used for Matina. With a flourish, he produced a wooden bracelet with small amber stones inlaid around it, and was rewarded with an affectionate hug from Matina.
“I have more, but tomorrow if you all don’t mind, I am tired.” He announced getting wearily to his feet. His declaration made others realise they were tired too. One by one, people got up and drifted in to the cave. Brinan got up to go inside followed by Callom.
“Where do you two think you’re going?” Arguus demanded. “You’re on watch duty while this lot dries and smokes!” He added pointing to the venison meat drying. “Keep the fires burning. Any trouble with predators – shout for help. When the moon passes over the tops of those hills come and get myself and Yorak, we’ll take the second watch.”
Being treated like a grown up had more disadvantages than advantages Brinan thought, but knew better than to complain about it.
8 Cave
Brinan practised his spear throwing in earnest after that day - almost to the exclusion of everything else. To the others it seemed that he was simply keen to fulfil his potential as a valued hunter; but to Brinan, the desire to make a kill that he could take fair credit for was the driving force behind his efforts. Only to Serena had he voiced how he felt and that was only because she, more than anyone, knew that something was bothering him and had gouged it out of him. On one particularly fine morning in early autumn, the boys decided to trap some smaller game. Any and all contributions to feed the Clan was welcomed and both boys were skilled at knowing where to set snares for hares, ptarmigan, grouse and other small mammals that chanced in their snares. If they were lucky, they sometimes caught small predators like foxes which made fine pelts to trade. It also gave them an excuse to get away from the cave and the chores demanded of them by their mothers.
“How many snares have you brought?” Asked Callom.
“Eight, Serena lent me a few of hers, and she’s looking after Luma for me - and you?”
“Just five, but that should be enough.”
Brinan allowed himself to be cheerful. It was good to be out of the cave and he set a good pace through the familiar trails in the woods. Callom was always cheerful even when there was nothing to be cheerful about - it was the very heart of his nature, some might phrase it eternal optimism; some would say that it was a result of having no burden of responsibility, he wasn’t destined to be the future leader of the Clan. He could do what he liked with his future. Since the return of his Uncle Felmus, he had talked of plans to accompany him on his next journey to scout for new opportunities and ideas.
The boys soon picked up the trail of a hare and once they were sure that the path it took was a regular one, set their first snare. A simple but ingenious device, the snare enabled them to hunt small game without using spears or even having to be there. One end of a long leather thong was tied in a large loop with a special knot that enabled the loop to become tighter when an animal put its head through. The other end was tied to an overhanging branch leaving the loop large enough and high enough off the ground to allow an animal to put its head through without realising the hoop was there. As the animal ran on it tightened the loop effectively strangling itself. The only drawback to this method what that the prey was often stolen by other predators before the boys came back to check on the snares.
Setting the snares took all morning. By covering a wide area, the boys increased their chances of catching more animals. With only one snare left and a good game trail found, it only remained to find a suitable place to hangS the snare from.
“This is no use. Complained Brinan surveying the meadow they were stood in. Only a few young saplings grew here among the dried grass. Nothing was suitable to hang their snare from.
“Look at this run; you can even see where the hare sleeps in this gully.” Callom pointed out.
Brinan hunkered down to investigate the tunnel of dried grass. “It’s a pity that sapling wasn’t closer or had horizontal branches. This old root is too low to hang anything on.” He stood up and studied the sapling. It was no good wishing it would grow. Another sapling, close by, was bent over and Brinan wished that that one was on the trail. He walked over to it hoping to find another game trail pass by but no such luck.
Callom saw what he was contemplating. “It’s a pity this sapling here didn’t bend like that one.”
Brinan smiled. That’s what made them such a good team - they often discovered that they were thinking the same thing at the same time.
“Why not make this sapling bend like the other?” Suggested Callom, igniting a spark of inspiration.
Brinan followed his thinking. “We could tie it down to this root, I’m sure I’ve got some thongs left. Callom reached for the sapling to pull it over while Brinan rummaged in his haversack for another thong.
“Oooof! It’s stronger than it looks.” He remarked trying to bend the sapling.
“Let’s try it further up where it’s narrower.” Suggested Brinan, working his hands up the sapling as high as he could. By standing on a boulder, he got high enough where the young tree was more flexible and carefully pulled it over.
“Good, now the tip’s near that root. Take this.” He opened out his hand with the thong to Callom who took it and tied the sapling to the root. Brinan strained to hold the sapling down while Callom fussed with the knots to secure it. Finally satisfied, the boys then tied the snare to the sapling at just the right height to hang over the small game trail. They carefully disguised the loop by arranging dried grass around it then stepped back to survey their work, delighted with their own ingenuity.
“We’ll come back in the morning to check them. Let’s hope nothing gets to them before we do.” Brinan picked up his haversack and turned to go. Callom followed, thinking that he would show his uncle their invention. It didn’t matter to the boys that it might have been thought of before, innovative ideas often were; but it was new to them and therefore their invention.
However, as they were walking away, a large crack snapped back their attention. Just as they turned to look, the upper part of the root, which was old and rotten, had given way under the pressure of the sapling. With another splintering crack, it snapped and the boys watched open mouthed as the sapling sprang back, yanking the disembodied root with it. They stared at the root dangling high up in the sapling and for the second time that morning Callom said what Brinan was thinking.
“Pity that wasn’t a hare, just think, no fox or wolver
ine would be able to eat it if it was up there.”
“Let’s reset it.” Brinan said, his momentary disappointment replaced by stoic resolve and the excitement of discovery. “We will use what’s left of the root and if we tie it carefully perhaps it will spring up when it catches something.”
“It’s worth a try,” Callom was equally enthusiastic. “If we could think of a way to attach it, so that when a hare or something pulls at the snare it will release the knot and the sapling will spring back.” Callom’s practical mind was already turning ideas over. He bent to tie the snare again as Brinan pulled it back down. He studied the knot he had used to tie it initially; then made some adjustments, retying it and secured the sapling to the remaining part of the root.
“This bit of root is much thicker so it should hold.”
“Let’s test it before we leave.” Brinan suggested. He found a rotting log nearby and pushed it through the loop. He had to give it quite a shove before the thong was pulled off the root, effectively releasing the sapling. Callom had kept a hold of it so it didn’t spring back. Brinan, after a bit of thought, retied the sapling to the root using a different knot so that it would release more easily when pressure was applied. Callom wanted to try again – just to be sure.
“No, leave it.” Brinan said, looking up at the sky. It was getting later in the day, they needed to be home before dusk. “We can check it tomorrow and work out the finer details if we need to.”
Walking back to camp, they decided to keep quiet about the snare, just in case it didn’t work and needed more adapting. When the boys got ready to leave the following morning, they were thwarted by Deema.
