THE NEXT DAY I awoke at dawn to find my parents and sister still asleep. It was fantastic to be home—the night had seemed almost warm in the cave with my family. I listened contentedly to my father’s rumbling snores and stared at the scratches on my mother’s forehead. Windy had told me that our parents had secretly ventured into the jungle at night to try to find me.
I climbed off my sleeping slab and crept over to the old chipped dining rock in the center of the dim chamber. It was still heaped with dodo parts from the welcome dinner my mother had made last night. Lumpkin was sleeping on the rock as usual. The fat little cave cat half opened one drowsy yellow eye and then promptly shut it. I quietly gathered up some leftovers and slipped out into the early-morning light.
I found Echo and Hamhock asleep next to Woolly in the normally unused drafty cavern behind the village.
“Big day, people,” I said. “I brought you dodo parts for breakfast.”
“You’re the dodo,” Echo muttered, eyes still closed. “I’m a plant eater, remember?”
Unlike his bossy sister, young Hamhock took some dodo bits.
I gave him an encouraging smile. “You ready for the Big Game?”
“Yeah,” he said, chewing thoughtfully, “we’re going to bash you Llama’s Boys today.”
“Hamhock!” snapped Echo, sitting up and glaring at him. “Remember what I told you? We want Lug’s clan to win so that they’ll like Woolly and keep him!”
“And keep me alive,” I muttered.
Hamhock nodded halfheartedly and gave the young mammoth a pat.
Stony came in with Froggy perched on his shoulder. The frog eyed the dodo meat with distaste, but the boy sat right down and began gnawing on some gnarly unidentifiable organ. Echo whipped out some equally nasty vegetable and began to break it into bite-sized bits. We were soon surrounded by a buzzing little cloud of fruit flies.
“The cold seems to affect the strangest things,” I said. “There were never this many flies before.”
“It is a little weird,” said Echo, crunching on a bit of vegetable.
“Speaking of pests,” I said, “I think I’ve found out how Bonehead and Bugeyes wormed their way back into the clan.”
Stony looked up and loudly swallowed whatever it was he was chewing.
“Chip,” I explained, “overheard them telling Boulder that they actually had killed me in the jungle. I guess they figured I’d never come back, so he’d never find out.”
“But what I don’t get,” said Echo, “is why Boulder wanted to bump you off in the first place. I mean, yes, you’re a pain in the—”
“According to Chip,” I interrupted, “Boulder is worried that I could be the next Big Man instead of his son. Crazy, huh?”
“Why is that crazy?” she asked.
“Come on, Echo. I’m the smallest kid in my clan. I have about as much chance of becoming the next Big Man as you do.”
A mischievous smile spread slowly across her face. “Then you might have a better shot than you think,” she said.
I noticed her bright green eyes get all twinkly and suddenly found it hard to argue with her. Girls are annoying.
BAM! BAM! BAM! came the rhythmic banging of stones as Boulder led our procession through the jungle toward Headstone Field. Each player marched in front of a very unhappy-looking jungle llama, pulling the animal by its short trunk. First came Boulder and the older players, in order of their steeds’ sizes. Next came this year’s rookies, led by Bonehead. Finally, leading Woolly by his trunk, Stony and I brought up the rear. To prevent their clan from spotting them, Echo and Hamhock walked underneath Woolly, hidden by long, shaggy curtains of mammoth hair.
I had watched a few Big Games before, but it felt very different to be a player. My heart raced as we rounded the base of Mount Bigbigbig and saw the great Headstone Field ahead. Under a crisp blue sky, two crowds waited for us on opposite sidelines. On the left were the women, girls, and youngest boys of my clan. They cheered wildly as the first of our players stepped out of the jungle and onto the field. On the right was a strikingly similar crowd of Boar Rider supporters, hissing like a pit full of angry snakes. Although the sun was now at its peak in the sky, the air felt scarcely warmer than it had at night, and I could see strange clouds in the far distance—higher and lighter than any I’d ever seen.
BAM! BAM! BAM! came the rhythmic banging from the opposite side of the field. A procession of mud-painted Boar Riders stepped out of the distant trees, leading their fierce razorback boars by their tusks. Their fans whooped and whistled, while our side booed deafeningly.
Because of Woolly’s position at the back of the procession, he was still hidden from the crowds by the trees. Stony was standing awkwardly, like he needed to pee.
“Go in those bushes,” I whispered. “You still have time.”
He shook his head resolutely.
Boss Hog led Big Mumma toward the center of the field as the squads each waited on their end. I watched the huge sow plod along, the Shiny Stone on her back. When they reached the middle of the field, Boss Hog eased the Shiny Stone off her and planted it on the ground. It shone, slightly, in the noonday sun.
A clan could win the Big Game only by getting the Shiny Stone to their side of the field. There were many more rules, but no one ever followed them, mainly because if someone stopped and brought up a rule, someone else whacked him in the head with a rock.
Boss Hog scanned the ground around him and chose the largest rock he could palm. Then he climbed onto Big Mumma’s back. “Boar Riders mount!” he commanded.
Stony started doing the pee-pee dance—holding his gourd and jumping up and down.
“Go already!” I said.
He ran off into the bushes.
On our end of the field, Boulder the Bountiful stepped forward and chose the heaviest hunk of granite he could lift. “Macrauchenia Riders, mount!” he barked.
I climbed up Woolly’s side until I felt a hand grab me and yank me back down. “No, Little Slug,” said Bonehead, brandishing the club my father had given me. “Me ride boarauchenia.”
“Don’t be stupid,” I said. “You don’t even—”
He slammed the club into my chest.
I doubled over and fell, gasping for breath.
The brute clutched a handful of Woolly’s hair and clambered up onto the mammoth’s back. “Boy with biggest beast next Big Man!” he shouted down to me. Then he grabbed Woolly by the ears and pulled hard. “Go, beast!”
Yelping in pain, the young mammoth charged out of the trees and onto the field.
“Charge that Piggyback!” cried Bonehead, pointing at Boss Hog and yanking on Woolly’s right ear.
A hush descended over the Boar Riders and their crowd as they caught sight of the mammoth for the first time. Boss Hog, normally a healthy pinkish hue, turned as pale as a pork chop. “Back, Big Mumma!” he cried. “Back!”
“CHARGE!” cried Boulder, eager to press the sudden advantage his son had created. “Macrauchenia Riders, CHARGE!”
And most of them did charge. And our clan’s supporters cheered. And I continued to writhe on the ground in pain.
It was Hamhock who stepped up this time. He had seen Bonehead bash me and—as the brute had climbed up Woolly’s side—Hamhock had taken action. A diehard Boar Riders’ fan, he had jumped out from under the mammoth and whispered something in Woolly’s ear.
Now, just as Woolly reached the middle of the field, Bonehead found himself unexpectedly hurtling through the air, flapping his arms and shrieking like a dodo bird.
Woolly had listened to Hamhock and bucked hard.
The Boar Rider fans shouted their approval.
Echo ran over to me. “Are you okay?” she asked.
“Yeah.” I nodded, and pointed. “But this does not look good for Woolly.”
Seeing their secret weapon buck, Boulder and the other Macrauchenia Riders had halted their charge and were standing around, gaping.
Boss Hog took the opportunity to swing Big Mumma back around. “BOAR RIDERS,” he bellowed. “SHOW OUR MIGHT!”
And they charged. And their crowd roared. And the Macrauchenia Riders scattered. Chip was the first one down, bonked in the back by Newporker. Rock was next—whacked by Oinker. The Boar Rider fans cheered wildly and began to sing their fight song:
When Big Game comes
and time to fight,
we kick your bums
Turn Llama’s Boys
to pile o’ bones,
and always KEEEEEP …
great Shiny Stone!
Now, I couldn’t care less about the Shiny Stone, but the sight of my dad being chased by the snarling, stone-wielding Snortimer was making my blood boil. I caught up to Woolly on the edge of the field and mounted. Both crowds went berserk as Woolly and I charged back into the fray.
“That one!” I cried, pointing at the closest Boar Rider, who happened to be Boss Hog’s son, Baconbits.
Woolly reached out with his trunk and yanked the scowling boy off his squealing boar.
“Into that one!” I said, pointing at Snortimer, who was about to bash my dad.
Woolly flung Baconbits across the field like a jiggling water skin.
“Boar’s-eye!” yelled our supporters as Snortimer toppled to the ground, out cold.
“That’s my boy!” cheered my dad.
Watching Snortimer get knocked out scared a few of the Boar Riders right off the field. Boss Hog grabbed Baconbits and waddled after them. The remaining Boar Riders looked unsure about what to do. I decided to make their decision easier.
Seeing the mammoth barreling toward them, the last of the Boar Riders turned tail and ran screaming, several of them crashing into one another. Our fans began to sing:
On Big Game day
it’s Llama Time!
So run away,
you silly swine!
Crush Piggybacks
until they MOAAAAAAAN,
and then bring back
great Shiny Stone!
Stony ran toward the center of the field as the last of the Boar Riders fled into the jungle. While the crowd belted out the fight song over and over, Stony single-handedly dragged the Shiny Stone toward their outstretched arms. I watched in amazement as two girls actually ran onto the field and kissed him. He turned and winked at me.
I glanced at Echo. She was petting Woolly and could not have looked more pleased. Our plan had worked. It was the shortest Big Game anyone could remember, but we had won it for the Macrauchenia Riders and would be allowed back into the clan.
“Lug and Stony!” went up the triumphant cry among our teammates. “Stony and Lug!” They lifted us onto their shoulders and did a joyful dance called the Macrauchenia. The entire crowd joined in.
Woolly carried the Shiny Stone to the village and went to rest in the big drafty cavern around back. Everyone else busied themselves with preparations for the great victory feast. Well, everyone except Stony and me. We were given places of honor on top of the newly installed Shiny Stone in the public clearing.
“Bring Echo and Hamhock up here too,” I commanded.
And people actually did it!
Chip started drumming on Rock’s head. Froggy began bobbing rhythmically on Stony’s shoulder. Stony joined in, arching his unibrow to the beat. People started to dance. There is no doubt that it would have been the most rocking party of the Stone Age but for the sudden blood-chilling scream that pierced the air.