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Not far from the moist cave that once had been his home there stands to this day a barrow of rocks, worn by time, encrusted with the soil of many centuries, and overgrown with moss and rough vegetation. Under it lie the bones and spear of Zan-Gah. When he died (as everyone someday must), he was widely known and greatly honored, as the huge pile of boulders witnesses. Long after his death, when the elders of his people would recite the deeds of their ancestors—beginning with the great Ack-Ro, who first spoke to the sky-spirits some twenty generations earlier, and Sra-Elod, who learned to make fire—they would not fail to name the deeds of Zan-Gah. Ages after our Zan had passed from the earth, it was still recalled that as a boy he had slain a lioness unaided and had borne her claw marks for the rest of his life. But the greatest of all his accomplishments, the one that changed the lives of his people forever, was something else. It was his invention of the sling. “He fashioned the swift weapon from a serpent’s sting,” the sages said—and it was partly true. What the old men did not tell when they spoke the long history of their clan, (chanting it, for it was their saga and song), was that Zan came to do it by accident.
It had rained the night before, for the first time in many days—a lucky sign. The drying river was rising again and Zan was cheered by the sweetness of the weather. It was a good time to travel. The birds were deliriously happy about something and the trees were almost in leaf. A gentle southern breeze was at his back and Zan was in very good spirits. Yet he well knew that he must be cautious and stealthy, even though he was still not far from home. The peace between the five clans was an uneasy one, for many still carried old grudges born of blood-strife. Zan wished he could proceed without being observed, but it made sense to follow the river, where game was likely to come and fish could be speared. Nobla would always give him water, and that was even more important than meat. But for the same reasons people—enemies—might come there too.
The river would take him north and then turn to the west in a wide arc. That much he knew. Just as it was beginning to curve Zan would encounter the dwellings of the two northern clans, and he was resolved to visit them. Zan wished to speak to the white-haired Aniah, to inquire of Dael and seek the elder’s advice. Aniah, who had been the first to address him as Zan-Gah, would receive him, Zan thought, in spite of the antique quarrels that rooted in the minds of old men.
But before that he would try to see the people of Hru. Zan was more hopeful about Aniah than he was of the Hru, but if he followed the river he would encounter them first. Of all the clans, the Hru were the least friendly and the soonest to quarrel over an imaginary insult or some trifle. Zan wondered whether he should bypass them entirely. It was not likely that they would know anything about Dael, nor that they would tell him if they did. The Hru kept to themselves. Deeds of courtesy were unknown to them, and generosity was rarely to be seen in their brute lives. Zan did want to pursue every possible lead, so he decided to attempt a visit, but he knew there was the danger of rebuff—or worse. He gripped his spear with resolution, and at the same time hoped he would not have to use it.
Meanwhile, Zan resolved to enjoy his freedom. His father would not be telling him what to do, and his mother was not there to weep and tremble over his every step. Their parting had been sad, but being gone, he was inclined to look on the happier side of things. This would be an adventure! He felt the fresh air in his nostrils and enjoyed the bright sunshine of the clear blue sky. When he glanced at Nobla’s sparkling stream, he could almost see his cheerful brother spearing fish in it. Zan allowed himself to hope that he would find Dael before long.
After several hours of walking, he decided to rest and eat some of the food he had brought. He was about to sit on a flat shelf of rock a few steps ahead when he heard a sound that chilled his blood and caused his hair to stand on end. It was the muffled hiss of a snake. Zan froze in his steps and searched for it, trying to move nothing but his eyes. He did not see immediately where the noise had come from, and dared not move until he did. The hissing noise began again, and Zan could now see that the serpent was a poisonous one. It was coiled directly in front of him! Zan stared at the snake and the snake stared at him, and neither seemed to know what to do.
Zan’s heart leapt to his throat and pounded there. His mouth went dry. The serpent might strike at any moment! Once his uncle Chul had been bitten by a snake and had lain sick for many days. He had been saved from death by his powerful constitution and the care of his family. Zan, far from home, knew that he probably would die if he were bitten, but what could he do to prevent it? He could only back away a little at a time, hoping that the reptile would not be provoked into striking. Then as he began to withdraw, stepping very slowly backwards, he noticed that the snake had a bird, half swallowed and still fluttering in its jaws.
Those creatures have mouths that can open so wide that they can swallow small animals whole. With great relief Zan realized that this snake would be unable to bite him because it was gorging on something else. This changed everything. It was the snake that was in danger now! Although it might try and even succeed in scratching him with a poisonous fang, it was open to attack. Backing off slowly, Zan made a wide half-circle around it. Then with a movement that had to be swift, Zan, in a single motion, seized the snake’s tail with a firm grip and whipped its head against the stone. Its neck was instantly broken, but Zan repeated the action three or four times until it was as limp as a piece of rope. Then for a few moments he left the body lie, observing it for any movement and cautiously poking it with his spear to make sure that it was dead. The bird could not be saved.
Dinner! Snake meat can be perfectly good to eat, even if its bite is poisonous. With the sharp stone blade Chul had given him, Zan cut off the head and hurled it away with the bird still in its mouth. He slit open the belly so that he could peel away the skin in a single piece, looking at it with some admiration. In spite of its venomous bite, this was a handsome animal with rich geometric patterns decorating its slender body. He would save and use the skin, but first he must eat.
With effort he built a fire and roasted the meat on his spear. He ate some, and some he kept in his sack for later. For a while after his meal Zan lay on his back under a tree which gave him shelter from the glaring afternoon sun and watched the light peeking through the leaves as they moved. He was happy. He thought he had never tasted anything so delicious, but more important, he had passed two significant tests. He had defended himself from danger and had provided himself with food. Not bad! Too bad Chul had not been there to see him!
But the day was advancing and he still hoped to reach the Hru clan before night. Zan had work to do. He turned his attention to the snake skin, which had to be cleaned and prepared for use. He scraped the inside of the skin with his blade and rubbed it back and forth around the trunk of a slender tree with both hands to turn it into a flexible leather-like strip. He did not know what he would do with it but it was beautiful and a thing to prize. Perhaps he would make a gift of it to Aniah, whose help he sought, or maybe he would trade it for something he needed. For the time being he could wear it as a sash, and so he did as he lifted his spear and went on.
In every new invention there is apt to be a certain serendipity—that is, a sudden, unlikely stroke of luck that makes all the difference. This is what happened: At a point where Zan was fairly close to the river, he came upon an area moistened by the recent rains where grew a bed of low-lying broadleaf plants. He recognized the plants. They had large, white flowers below their dark leaves which early developed into a tasty fruit—the first of the season. There they were, thousands of them. Zan started gathering the largest ones, which were about the size of walnuts, stuffing them into his bag. But the bag had already been full, so there was not much room. He did not want to empty it to hold more fruit, but he did not wish to abandon the surplus either; so he looked for another way to carry some. He would be needing his goatskin for warmth that night, but he lit upon the idea of wrapping some of the fruit in the snakeskin. Unfortunately, the skin was long and narrow, although fairly wide at one end. No, it wouldn’t do. But it was all Zan had, so he loosely enclosed several of the nuggets and went on with the imperfect bundle in his free hand.
He had not progressed many steps when he realized that the objects were falling out of the clumsy container. He gathered up those that had fallen, rewrapped them, and progressed as best he could, stopping frequently to pick up those that refused to stay in their package. Zan ate a couple because he saw that he would lose them anyway, and after a half hour he looked at the bundle and discovered that he had indeed lost them. All but one had dropped along the way! Zan was furious! He took the snakeskin with its one remaining fruit, twirled it over his head, and threw it away with all his might.
Then something unexpected happened. Serendipity! The small end of the snakeskin, still wound around Zan’s finger, stayed with him, but the round fruit flew like a shot against a large boulder and was smashed, so that it left its juice running down the side.
Zan marveled at what he had done. Was it just his anger? He decided to attempt more calmly to duplicate what he had done in rage. Picking up a sharp stone, he placed it in the center of the strip of skin, wrapping the smaller end around his forefinger. Then he whirled it vigorously over his head and let it go. The stone flew with such force that the sharp edge stuck deeply in the bark of an oak tree. Zan examined the embedded stone with astonishment. What if this tree trunk were a man—an enemy? This could be a weapon as dangerous as a spear! But could it be controlled like a spear? Zan tried again without much success. It was awkward to handle. He tried several times with varying results. Even when the stone was released properly it was difficult to aim, and the snakeskin was beginning to fray. It would tear apart soon.
Zan realized that he would have to fashion this weapon, this sling, of stronger materials. He did not wish to cut up his goatskin, but a leg of it could be spared, so he cut off a patch only about the size of his hand. To it he tied a long thong or strap (which he luckily had brought with him) on either side of the patch. It would work better than the snakeskin. The piece would hold the stone and the thongs would allow him to whirl it overhead even faster than before. And it would last much longer.
By the time Zan finished making his sling it was almost dark. The Hru would have to wait. He tried his weapon and it worked! He could not see any more where the stone went, but he heard it zing and crash in the brush. Zan was eager to practice in order to become proficient at its use, but it was too dark to see what he was doing. He had to arrange some shelter for himself, build another fire, and get some sleep. He set up next to the large stone where he had so luckily smashed the piece of fruit. It was still stuck there, and Zan pulled it away and ate it.
Zan could hardly sleep, so thrilled was he with his discovery. Of course he realized that it needed to be worked on, to be perfected. He longed for the coming of the morning. Lying on his back and staring upward at the gorgeous multitude of stars, he thought with excitement of the possibilities of his invention. Then he thought of his family and of Dael. Suddenly a shooting star streaked across the sky, like a blazing stone flung against the black void of the universe. It was truly a happy sign, for Zan knew by this heavenly assurance that his new project would succeed. It was his destiny.