Vig quickly sidestepped as the cave lion lunged its paw out, between them lay the reward, a reindeer brought down by a spear. The dead animal meant the difference between life and death for his clan, for the cave lion it probably meant the same, so both were fighting desperately. It was the first animal they had managed to catch since the night sky had been painted white and the gods had spoken with a terrific rumble. After that night the animal herds had disappeared, leaving the clan to starve.
The lion struck its paw out again and growled as Vig did another sidestep to avoid it, all the time keeping his distance. If one of those paws managed to scratch him it would be the end.
Askil moaned in pain behind him, he had not been quick enough as the big gash on his left leg showed. That first wound had taken him out of the struggle and possibly would take his life. He was still holding his spear in a defensive posture while his other hand was tightly clasped around his profusely bleeding leg. Vig had no idea how badly Askil was hurt, all had happened so fast and now he needed to focus to stay alive or he would join Dragul in the afterlife. Dragul had tried to save Askil but had been too slow on his feet, making him the first to die.
The lion struck out with its front left paw trying to catch Vig so he did the same sidestep he had done before, but this time his foot twisted on a loose rock that forced his ankle out in an angle it was not suppose to have. He screamed in pain and almost fell to the ground, but managed to keep standing more out of luck than anything else. Cold sweat now ran down Vigs forehead as he kept his teeth shut tight in an effort to combat the pain, but it still made him slow and that would kill him if he could not end this struggle soon.
Askil was now behind him, fighting the lion had brought Vig around in a full circle.
“Quick, give me your spear,” he hissed between his clamped down teeth.
Without hesitation Askil switched his grip, holding the spear now by its tip and the end floating in the air, ready for Vig to take it. He knew that if Vig died so would he, so it was not only a matter of obeying, it was the only way to stay alive.
The lion suddenly let out a roar that turned into a begging moan before it jumped. Vig crouched down and threw his spear without looking if it hit or not, instead he grabbed hold of Askils spear and ripped it out of his hand, cutting a deep gash in the process. Rolling to the left he pushed the end into the ground and only after that did he look up.
His first spear had hit the animal in the side but that had not slowed it down much, its momentum was to great for that. With open mouth and paws stretched out it jumped onto the spear, the tip burying deep in its flesh forcing the other end into the hard packed snow.
Vig again rolled away as quickly as he could towards Draguls body, behind him the sound of struggle and moaning continued. He did not know how badly he had injured the animal and he did not have time to check, he just needed to get that extra spear.
Without feeling the claws of the big cat ripping him to pieces he reached Dragul's body and picked up his spear, fighting the ankle pain with adrenaline he stood up. Now at least he had another weapon to use, some extra defence if needed.
He stood like this for a couple of seconds even though it felt like a lifetime, the adrenal gland speeding up and slowing down everything in a chaotic mismatch of impressions.
The cave lion was not dead, it did not even show any signs of being seriously hurt despite being impaled on a spear. The tip had been pushed deep into the flesh by its own weight and momentum, the same forces that had pushed the other end into the snow, nailing it down. Its head kept moving back and forward all the time moaning and growling, and chewing empty air.
“Why aren't you dead?” wondered Vig.
“Why in the name of the mother goddess aren't you dead?” he said out loud.
“Are you demon sent to punish us for something we have failed to do,” he finally screamed.
He looked down at the spear he was holding, if two spears could not kill this animal another one would probably not make any difference.
“Vig, we have to go, please,” Askil said in a weak voice, and he replied, “Yes, we have to go.”
Vig saw that the lion did not pose any immediate danger, so he went over to Askil and checked his wound. It was deep and still bleeding but maybe less so than before. He got out a string of leather and a small fur patch that he put over the wound and tied it tight around the leg. The black coagulated blood spread out around the bandage like a stew made of rubber. Vig had never seen blood behave like that before.
“Can you stand?”
Askil knew if he could not stand he would have to remain here, together with that demon cat, to die.
“I can stand,” he said, and managed to get up with some help from Vig.
Vig went to the reindeer and pulled out the spear, looking around he saw a rock sticking out of the ice that he dug out.
“We need to go now Vig,” Askil said again in his weak voice.
“We will, but if this beast gets loose we are dead!”
“We can not kill it, it is a demon, we can not kill it!” wailed Askil.
Vig did not answer, instead he walked around the lion that was still trying to twist its body off the spear in an attempt to get at him, but for now it was not able to. Looking how tenuous the end of the spear was embedded in the ice, it was only a matter of time before it would break free, of that Vig was certain.
With a big thrust he pushed another spear into the beast just above the hind legs, and kept pushing until the spear went through the body and hit the ice beneath, then using the stone he hammered it into the ice making sure to keep away from those flailing paws. He kept hammering until only about a foot of the spear stuck out of the animal that was now more securely pinned to the ice.
Vig then handed a spear to Askil, to use as a crotch, and at the same time he took a long hard look at him, “Start walking, I will catch up with you,” he finally said.
Askil hesitated a short moment and then took the spear and started limping back home slowly and staggering, leaving a faint black blood trail in his footsteps.
Vig watch him for a while and then went back to reindeer, always keeping an eye on the growling cat that had not stopped trying to get loose.
He pulled out a leather strap and used it to tie the animals hind legs together, as a finishing touch he cut off the head and gutted it.
Breaking open the skull with another stone he quickly feasted on the eyes and still warm brain, feeling his stomach filling up with much needed proteins and vitamins, saving what he did not have time to eat in a leather bag.
He looked at the diminishing figure of Askil hobbling into the distance thinking “He will never make it.”
He had not offered any food to his companion as that would have been wasted calories, he would surely die before they got back home.
Vig felt the weight of the animal and then cut off its front legs to make it lighter, it was a matter of getting something home rather than nothing at all.
His ankle was sore and swollen, making most movements awkward and painful even without the additional task of dragging the animal home.
From Draguls coat he cut several more strips that he tied tout around his ankle, giving it some stability and somewhat reduced the pain.
After all this was done he put away his flint knife, grabbed the leather straps and pulled them over his shoulders, winding the ends around his gloves and started dragging the animal. He followed the same direction Askil had taken, making sure the carcase got dragged over both set of footsteps to hide their trail from the beast in case it got loose. A slow snowfall had started, so soon all footsteps would be hidden in the same way the struggling shape of Askil had been, behind a gently falling drape of big white flakes.
As he walked, the eerie sounds from the pinned down beast followed him, fading only slowly as Vig put some distance from it, but it did not stop completely for a long time.
He kept looking over his shoulder, half expecting to see the beast rushing him with broken off spears sticking out of its body.
The fact that the beast was no longer visible made it worse, his mind started playing tricks with him, making Vig jump at shadows. A voice in his head, clear as if a person had been talking to him, started to blame Askil and Dragul, maybe they had wanted to kill him, yes that must have been it. They lured him to hunt the animal, they wanted to get rid of him.
Day turned to evening, and then to night, all the time the snow kept falling. That did not bother Vig, he knew his way, and the snow kept the cold from becoming to sever.
A life lived in this ice-age had taught him to always find his way home, so he continued in the right direction. He did not rest, ignoring the pain in his ankle he just kept going, getting energy from his fear of the beast.
Sometimes he though he could catch a faint moaning, but he did not know if that was just in his mind, or it was real, he could not be sure.
As the morning came, and the light turned from black to a greyish white, he came across Askil laying on the ground, half covered in snow but still alive. He looked up, his face having the same colour as the surroundings snow, a paleness that showed death was not far off. With a hoarse voice he whispered, “Vig, help,” but Vig would or could not help him, his wound had always been to sever for him to survive.
“I will come back for you, don't worry,” he said, patting the bundle in the snow, knowing full well that he would never come back this way. A quick death would have been better for Askil, but if the lion broke free he would be a good diversion, something to catch its attention, so the longer he lived the better.
“Hang in there Askil, may the mother goddess protect you until I am back,” he said as he took the spear out of the dying man’s hands. After thinking for a moment, he took out some of the brain he still had left, kept close to his the body to stop it from freezing, and put a small piece in Askils mouth.
“Chew on this, it will give you strength,” he said and then walked on, using the new spear as his own crutch.
He was not far away from home, and as the sun started to climb over the distant snow covered mountains and the snowfall diminished, he estimated to be only a couple of hours away from the cave.
Then he heard a distant sound, a sound he had hoped not to hear again, and this time it was not a question of being in his imagination or not. The moan sounded pretty far away, but that could change quickly if it caught his scent. If that happened it would surly catch him before he managed to get home, so Vig prayed that Askil had not died yet and that the beast would give him its full attention.
He strained even more under the load, the leather straps cut deeper into his shoulders and through the thick gloves. The sound kept following him but it did not seems to get closer, so he kept dragging the carcase without stopping, determined to reach the cave.
When the sun reached noon it had completely stopped snowing, making it possible to see the smoke rising up from the cave, hanging in the air like a thin veil guiding him home. He threw a quick glance behind him but could not see anything, so he stopped and listened intently. Only then could he make out the sound again, a faint moaning sliding over the snow towards him.
The cave lion must be out there, searching, but it had not found his trail yet, so if he just kept going he would make it. His chin was now resting on his chest as he did not have enough energy to keep his head up, or maybe he was afraid to look ahead and see how slow he was moving, so he kept his gaze fixed on the snow and his own moving feet. Vig tried to keep up the tempo but it was hard, he was so tired, so very tired.
When he felt like giving up he raised his head, closed his eyes and listened, hearing the moan gave him the fear and that adrenaline kick he needed to keep moving. The sun was warm and it should have been a nice change after the cold night, but the warmth made him sleepy, it was just another thing for him to fight against.
Two hours later he finally reached the path that went up to the cave, and he could relax, he was home, he had made it with the meat that would last them a week, if they were careful.
He shouted to get their attention, at first so weak that it was hardly audible, just a crackling sound, but he tried again and managed better. His voice travelled over the snow, up the path, passing the heavy furs that kept the cold out of the cave, reaching the ears of the clan.
Soon children, women and a very old man came out on the ledge, looking down at him. They went down the path to the blocking stone where they used long wooden poles to start wriggle it out of the way, as Vig dragged the dead animal up the path. The stone was heavy and they were weak, but finally they managed to get it moved out of the way.
Vig felt people taking the leather straps from his raw hands, dragging the animal the final distance into the cave. He was totally exhausted, so for a while he just stood there breathing until he forced his body up the path and to the cave entrance, waving a lazy hand behind him, showing that they should push the stone back into place.
The blocking stone would stop any animal from getting into the cave, even a demon beast like the cave lion, at least Vig thought so. His clan did not know about it, and they did not ask why he had returned alone, or even if the others were coming, they just did what he asked them to do as he was their leader.
Askils mother had kept looking at him, she had said nothing but she would, Vig knew she would, but for now she kept silent.
Askil had been slotted to be the new head of the tribe after him, giving her the very highest status, something fitting her ambition, but with him gone so was her future status and that would required questions, accusations and backstabbing, whatever it took, fuelled in no small part by her grief.
While the rest of the clan went back into the cave after the stone had been moved to block the path, Vig lingered on outside for a while, looking out over the plain. He thought he saw some dark spot moving against the snow, and maybe he could hear a moan carried by the wind, but he could not be sure. In the end he also hobbled inside, greeted by the welcoming smell of boiling meat and the warm fires.
People were happy, a stomach about to be filled lifted their spirits, but only up to a point, the meat was not much, and only one hunter had returned, the last hunter they had, so the happiness was still somewhat forced.
Finally sitting down, Vig unwrapped his ankle, making the pain came back with a vengeance as the blood flowed more freely, making him wince as he rubbed his ankle and foot.
Someone handed him a cup of broth, and without looking who it was he finished it in one big gulp, holding out the cup for a refill. He drank the second cup, and then handed it back to whomever had given it to him, sighing in content after drinking that high energy drink.
Bracing himself for a moment he then bit down on a leather strap, took a deep breath, put both hands around the swollen foot and twisted it hard to the left, the right, up and down. It was excruciatingly painful but he did not mind, he could take that agony and he actually smiled as his pain receptors fed his brain.
If the foot had been broken he would not have been able to twist it, and if that would have been the case he would die, or in the best case scenario limp for the rest of his life, a death sentence in itself. But he could move the foot, which meant that it wasn't broken, so he smiled through the agony.
He released the foot and leaned back, he wanted to sleep more than anything else but as the head of the clan he would be offered the first piece of meat, and not until he had started eating could the rest do the same. Some traditions could be pushed or even broken, but this was not one of them, it would be an affront to the mother goddess, and seeing what had happened lately they could not afford to antagonize her even more, so he waited and struggled to keep his eyes open.
Soon a clay bowl was handed to him with small pieces of meat that had just been cooked, more or less. He looked at each and everyone in the clan, the women and the young children, all of them waiting in anticipation for his first bite that would mean that they also could start eating.
Vig smiled, took a bite, chewed it slowly and carefully, putting the most serene appearance on his face that he could muster, and only after that he nodded, a nod that resulted in a clatter of bowls being lifted, people eating, chewing, swallowing.
No one had asked about Dragul and Askil, they knew Vig would tell them when he was ready, such was the way of the clan, the leader could not be questioned, only deposed.
Vig ate half of the food, then hobbled over to an old man sitting in a corner of the cave. He had been the previous leader and the main hunter before Vig, until he grew too old. Age turned him from a hunter into the clan's wise man.
He was chewing a bone with the few teeth he had left, the good food always went to the young ones. Vig handed him his bowl, not out of generosity, instead it was a way to keep his standing in the clan by showing mercy. The old man shook his head but Vig insisted so finally he took the food with a nod. Vig also nodded and then limped back to his place close to by the main fire, laid down on his soft furs, and fell asleep, dead tired.
Vig slept the rest of the day, through the night and on to the next morning, when he finally woke up to the great relief of the people around him. He was instantly given a bowl of stew that he finished quickly, eating with his left hand, sucking marrow from of all the small bones, drinking the juices, until every last piece of meat was consumed. Only then did he raise his head and looked at the people around him.
“Askil and Dragul are dead, killed by a cave lion,” he simply said.
The mother of Askil stood up and said “But I have seen him, he is walking this way, I have seen him on the plain and he is not far away.”
Vig looked at her for a long time, still shaking his head until finally he said “Show me,” and with that he followed her out of the cave. For a moment he felt a sting of bad conscious, he had after all left Askil to die, could he have survived?
He shook his head as he followed her out, thinking it could not possible be him. They got out on the ledge where the mother pointed in the direction he had come from, showing a small black point moving against the snow. It was still far in the distance, but there was no mistake, it was a person.
It did not seem to move towards them in any deliberate way, instead it walked on and off, got a bit closer, then stopped, and then start moving again in some other direction.
“This is not Askil,” Vig told the mother, who kept shaking her head, saying, “That is my son, I would recognise him anywhere!”
Vig stopped her from going out after him right away, leading her back into the cave, sat her down with a promise to tell her, and everyone else, what had happened.
He told them about the cave lion, how strange it had behaved, possessed by the mother goddess no doubt. How they had not been able to kill it, how Askil had been badly hurt, and later died when he was on his way back. Vig had found him frozen to the ground, cold, dead, without a doubt.
He explained how he was afraid that the lion demon would sooner or later escape, and it would come after them.
The mother still did not want to believe him, “You will see, Askil is coming home, I know it,” she said stubbornly, refusing to hear what he was saying.