Chapter 4

New evidence has emerged that Neanderthals co-existed with anatomically modern humans for at least 1,000 years in central France.

—From http://www.abc.net.au/news/newsitems/200509/s1450949.htm, ABC news article, September 1, 2005

Though Hama had not yet appeared, it was fully dark, time for the nightly council. The rest of the tribe gathered. Jeek, son of the Healer, ambled toward the group and plopped down onto the stones, exhausted but at the same time exhilarated by the work he had done for Ung Strong Arm, assisting his birth mother. It appeared Ung would recover.

The Hamapa tribe sat around their fire on the Paved Place. Akkal, the young, dark-haired Fire Tender, a serious-minded boy two summers older than Jeek’s eleven, had done his job well. Jeek edged closer to the fire and its warmth. He shivered in his mind and his body to think what they would do without their fire.

The Most High Male had convened them to ponder their situation and make decisions.

They awaited Hama to lead them in their discussion, but she did not appear. Lakala Rippling Water, the Singer of the tribe, hesitated, then began a Song of Asking. She asked for blessing from Dakadaga, the Most High Spirit, and pleaded with the Spirit of the Hunt, who had not been kind on the latest outing. Jeek knew what they would talk about. The tribe must decide what to do about the food shortage. The best spear thrower was disabled with a gored leg. Fee Long Thrower, the next best, was very near to birthing a baby. She had not returned from the hunt, having stayed with Vala Golden Hair and two males to attempt another hunt if the mammoth returned to the watering place. But Jeek was sure Fee would not hunt for a while. This was to have been her last hunt before the baby came.

Zhoo of Still Waters stayed with Ung in her wipiti tonight, but Jeek saw that Enga Dancing Flower had awakened for the gathering and sat near Tog Flint Shaper.

The discussion and decision would come after the telling of the Saga by Panan One Eye, the Storyteller. Hama should be there by then. The Storyteller’s head always made Jeek think of a bird’s egg, shiny and bald, and his cheeks smooth and beardless. He sat near the place where Hama usually sat. Panan had been the mate of Hama once, but now she coupled with Cabat the Thick, who was the Most High Male.

Jeek glimpsed the New One lingering at the edge of the group. Jeek did not believe he could follow any of their thought-discussions.

After the song of Lakala Rippling Water, old Panan One Eye closed both his eyes, the seeing one and the non-seeing one, and transmitted his thoughts to everyone with a deep, important shade of scarlet. The Storyteller held the Saga, the history of the tribe, in his mind. It had been given to him by the Storyteller before him, and all the Storytellers before that, for the Storyteller must always keep the Saga, a sacred thing of the Hamapa people. He told parts of it during their councils.

This night Panan sent a thought-picture of long ago. Long, long, long ago. Jeek watched Panan for a moment, fascinated at how the firelight danced on his hairless head. Then, to better receive tonight’s piece of Saga, the lad closed his eyes. He jerked them wide open, however, when the vision arrived. It showed him the land of the Hamapa, but it looked different, strange, and covered with ice.

Yes, young Jeek, came the assurance of Panan. The Ancient Ones told of a Time of Great Ice. That time happened in a faraway place, before the Time of the Crossing.

Those are ancient times. Long ago, thought-spoke Jeek. That terrible Great Ice will not happen now.

That Ice Time may happen again, answered Panan. Much snow fell at the most recent Dark Season. The Seasons of Dark and Coldness are becoming darker and colder. And longer. Lengthening as the nights are now.

Jeek felt the collective shudder of the tribe. Then he caught the scoffing of three adolescent males from across the circle.

These are only the stories of an old one. Crossings. Ice. Ha.

The sturdy youth, Kung, led the trio. They sneered and snorted and squinted, and flung a mocking disbelief back to Panan One Eye. Maybe your memory is no good, old one.

The other members of the tribe stared at Kung with frowns and harsh vibrations, and his thoughts faded. But Jeek could tell that he did not bury them deep. If Hama were here she would quell his impudence. Why was she so late?

Jeek shivered again at the Storyteller’s vision, still before them. He wrapped his arms around his skinny knees for protection against the cold of the air and of the bleak thought-pictures.

He could clearly see the ice Panan envisioned. It stretched, vast and thick, across the land that now held forests and streams, rolling hills and plains and caves. All was lost under the ice. The air of the vision gripped them with bitter cold, and its sky hung heavy with gray clouds. Snow fell, vast snow that turned to Great Ice.

What could the Hamapa do in such a terrible time? asked Jeek. Would there be any game? Jeek envisioned his tribe hungry, crying.

Panan One Eye sent new ideas. The Ancient Ones lived in a Time of Great Ice. We can live in that time also. We need only prepare. But now, put this Saga away. The Hamapa must hunt again. Soon. Can we hunt with the new sun?

Nanno Green Eyes waved her hands and thought-spoke with crimson urgency. We must hunt soon. But some of the hunters are still gone. The Hamapa must have meat to dry and new furs and skins to replace those that are worn out. Tog Flint Shaper caught our last large fish three full moons ago. The dried fish and dried flesh are almost gone. Can we get more fish?

Jeek had an intrusive, unexpected vision of a giant beaver. He did not know why this occurred to him. The tribe hunted many animals but never touched the giant beaver.

Kung funneled a private, individual thought to Jeek. Why do you contemplate beavers, stupid boy? That will do us no good. Try to think of the tribe, like you are supposed to.

Not that Kung put the concerns of the tribe ahead of his own very often, in Jeek’s opinion. But Jeek did try to think of the tribe now.

Because the two females most skilled with the long spear, Ung Strong Arm and Fee Long Thrower, could not soon hunt, Jeek knew the tribe was in trouble. No other female could bring down the great beasts. Enga Dancing Flower could throw the spear with some skill, but not as well as the other two. The young girls of the tribe, including pretty Gunda, were being trained, and had, once or twice, brought down small animals. But they were not ready to make a hunt for a large beast.

Panan One Eye, answering Nanno, turned to the subject of the fish traps. He nodded to Nanno and sent an image of a trap with only one fish, and another of a trap with no fish. Rocks, piled in the nearby stream to form a narrowing opening, usually provided plenty of fish for the Hamapa. They need only wade to the place where the rock piles lay a single hand-width apart and scoop up the number of fish required.

There are always fewer fish when we approach Dark Season, thought-spoke the Most High Male, the second ranking member of the tribe, pulling on his fleshy lower lip.

Not this few, shot back Panan. Cabat leaned back, eyeing Panan. Jeek couldn’t help but detect the undertone of rancor in the exchange. The air that prickled between them made him squirm.

His mind wandered off again, picturing himself lugging home a huge carcass, enough to feed the tribe until the next Warm Season came.

Kung’s sharp scoffing pierced his daydream. Ha. If anyone can save the tribe, it will be someone bigger and stronger than you, little skinny one. Someone like me.

Jeek sensed the minds of Kung’s two adolescent companions tumbling along with that of Kung. All three funneled in on Jeek so the others could not overhear.

Jeek lowered his head. He needed to guard his thoughts better. More dark colors.

Nanno Green Eyes stood and thought-spoke. It is time for a decision about our food problem.

But we cannot decide without Hama, countered Panan One Eye. He swiveled toward Jeek. You must go and fetch her.

The young boy jumped to his feet. He would fetch Hama? Jeek couldn’t keep a tiny grin from his lips. He strutted with exaggerated importance past Kung and his gang on his way to her wipiti. He, Jeek, had been chosen to fetch Hama. Not Kung, but Jeek.

* * *

Enga Dancing Flower, fighting her tiredness, watched Jeek leave the circle and head toward the large, set-apart wipiti. But something was not right. A chill swirled through her mind. Wide awake now, Enga sat up straight. Hama would not have missed the intense disturbance caused by the wounds of Ung Strong Arm, or the deep sorrow over the death of Kokat No Ear. No matter how involved Hama became in her narrow, private thoughts, she could not have ignored the profound, widespread emotion of the tribe that night. Especially that of her own birth sister, Nanno Green Eyes, on the death of her mate.

Enga contemplated those around her and tried to read their minds. But whenever she was weary she had trouble receiving the feelings of the Hamapa. Thought waves came faintly to her. As near as she could tell, most were uneasy, like her, without understanding why. If Ung were here she would take action, for she always knew what to do. No one moved. Except Jeek. He drew nearer the wipiti of Hama.

Enga made a decision. She jumped up and hurried across the Paved Place after Jeek, sending him a message to halt. He hesitated. When he turned toward her she transmitted her fear with a subtle, narrowed thought. She felt him understand her concern immediately. A quick thinker, she thought. He must have perceived the unease of the tribe, too. He chewed on a hank of his hair and gave Enga a worried look.

Hama is old, twice twenty. We all know she will die someday, he thought-spoke.

But, Enga somehow knew, the situation was worse than what Jeek feared.