The Mate

A post written by a dear friend known as P.W., with additions and changes from yours truly.

Southern Europe, +/- 35,000 ya 

Durak, the mammoth hunter, had been away from his tribe for nearly two moons.  During the recent cold time, a sickness had taken many people from his tribe, most of them women. Now, there were no women for him in his own village, so he must steal a woman from another tribe if he was to have a mate. Durak, and several other men had all left the tribe to search for other clans and villages that might have women. All the others had returned back to the tribe except for Durak. Finally he had found a village, far away in the warm lands.  These people were slender and tall, with hair the color of the sun. He was now lying in the tall grass on a ridge, looking down on a small village of the people with sun colored hair.. After watching these strange, tall people for three suns, he had decided  upon a young woman who had hair that looked like the sun as it rose in the morning..  He had seen her bathing with other women, cooking with them, but no man made company with her.  She slept and worked in the hut that was almost on the edge of the village.

Tonight was the night to get her; the moon was dark and a warm breeze blew in from the south.  These people were quiet at night, having no dogs or guards around the village; only a single man who occasionally added wood to the fire. As darkness fell he slowly worked his way into the village and into the hut. By the light of the small central fire in the hut, Durak could see the women were all asleep  Silently and quickly he gagged then bound first the wrists then the ankles of the sun-hair woman. Although she moaned and whimpered through the gag, the other women slept on.  She tried to hit Durak with her bound fists, and kick with her legs, but he was stronger.  Quickly he lifted her, and ducked out of the hut. Just as Durak was about to step into the safety of the surrounding forest he heard one of the old women shriek in rage, waking the whole village.   Despite his burden he ran, dodging the shapes of  fallen trees and boulders on the ground, hearing  the sound of men yelling and women screaming.  Suddenly he heard swishes in the air, and the thwack as the arrows hit the trees and land around him.  As he ran, trying to blend into the darkness, he felt a sharp prick in his upper left arm.  With a grunt of surprise and pain he ran faster, even as his burden began twisting and throwing her weight around.  He abruptly changed his course through the forest and slowed down . Soon he was rewarded by the sound of pursuit going in the wrong direction. Durak slowed to a walk and finally stopped as the first rays of sunlight began to break through the forest.  Only then did he notice that the arrow had only sliced the fleshy part of his upper arm. The woman had long since ceased to struggle. He laid her on the ground and saw that she was uninjured, she looked up at him in fear, hate and something else. Durak removed the bonds from the ankles and the gag from her mouth. He kept his hand ready to cover her mouth if she tried to call out, but she was quiet, glaring at him. So he reached down and gently rubbed her ankles where the bindings had cut deeply into her flesh and was rewarded with the sight of color returning to her feet. Durak raised the woman to her feet and motioned for her to follow, all the time watching for her to try and run, but she did not. She just lowered her head and followed as he lead the way.

By midday Durak had found a good place to sleep for a few hours near a small stream. For a while now he had felt dizzy at times. Even so, he kept an eye on his captive as she followed but not once did she try and run away. His arm was throbbing from the cut he had received from the arrow and when he looked down at the cut he noticed that it was still bleeding and also that there were red lines radiating out from the wound. He Knew that this was bad and without a skilled shaman he could become very ill or even die. He began to feel hotter than the warmth of the sun, yet shivering as sweat began pouring off his body. Durak went to the stream to wash the wound as best he could. As he bent down his vision blurred, his knees became week and he fell; try as he might he could not stand. The woman just stood and watched. As darkness filled Durak's eyes he thought he saw the woman approaching him and reach for his stone knife.

Lua woke up startled, there was a large hand over her mouth.  Before she could cry out a foul-tasting gag was placed in her mouth and tightly tied around her head.  As she tried to scream and fight, her wrists, then her ankles were bound. She realized that she could not fight whoever this was so she relaxed and waited. A large dark haired man lifted her up as if she weighed nothing and silently carried her out into the night. Then as the village came alive with the realization that she was missing , the man began to run as if he wasn’t even carrying her. She tried to throw him off balance, but he only held her tighter.  He ran at first at first and then walked with her all night and only stopped to rest as daylight began to show through the trees. When he put her down she thought that she would be killed if she fought. But the powerful stranger only removed the bonds from her feet and the gag from her mouth and gently rubbed life back into her numb tingling feet. He then motioned for her to follow, which she did. She saw the cut on his arm and knew that it had been made by a poisoned arrow from her tribe. Having worked with the shaman, she knew how to stop the poison.  There were certain plants, growing everywhere here in these woods that would heal him. Yet she walked on, watching him. While he had not hurt her, the powerful dark haired man had taken her from her village, her people.  She saw the wound on his arm turn a bright red, the lines spreading outward. She saw him wobbling as he walked. It wouldn't be long now, so she followed him and didn't run home...yet.

The sun was straight overhead when the large dark haired man stopped by a small stream to rest. As he bent to get water she watched him fall and struggle to rise. Lua walked over to the large man and took his stone knife. She worked the knife around until she could cut the bonds around her wrists. As she watched the man finally go to sleep, Lua took a drink from the stream and turned back into the forest to find her way back to her village. The man who tried to take her could stay in the stream and die. After a short time she started to think about the large dark haired man.  He had not really harmed her or threatened her. She recalled his face as he had rubbed her ankles.  There was something very gentle in his touch, in his sad brown eyes.  Without understanding why, she turned around and went back to him, picking the plants she would need as she went.  She soon found the dark haired man where she had left him. Grinding the plants she picked on a large stone, she mixed in some water and made a green, pleasant smelling paste. With a large leaf she covered the wound with the paste, tying it up with the remains of the cord that had bound her wrists.  Pulling the man further away from the stream, she placed him on his side, listening to his breathing.  It was slow, and the color on his face was very white.  Gathering dry twigs and branches, she found some fire-stones and soon she had a small but warm fire crackling.  Sitting beside the man, she pulled his dark hairy head onto her lap, and began humming a soft, simple song.

The Neighbors

Humans face Neanderthals across the Danube

Danube River valley  =/- 40,000 ya

            Muka trudged through the brush and trees in the gray light of dawn.  He stopped sometimes, using his spear handle to gently part the grass or low branches on a bush.  Then he would move forward again, his large head swinging from side to side, sniffing the air.  Almost every morning, just as it was getting light, he would walk like this, a different route every day.

            Approaching a small meadow, he slowed, inhaling the air.  Going completely still behind a small shaking tree, he peered between the branches.  There were four deer, quietly munching on grass.  Muka knew he could hit the one closest to him. She was small, but it would be enough to eat for him and the clan. He raised his spear slowly, taking one final sniff-

            --and stopped short. Smoke, different smoke, was in the air.  His own home was high on the ridge behind him, and all the smoke was going upward in the still morning.  This smell was different.

            The deer forgotten, Muka stood quietly, inhaling the air again, and looking for the signs of a big fire. It couldn’t be too large, as none of the animals or birds were fleeing the area. The deer had even been calm. The smell was strongest in the direction away from the meadow, and toward the fast water.

            Even more slowly, he followed the odor to the edge of the water. Hiding behind a large tree he looked up and down the edge. Now he was hearing some odd noises, like several little ones calling and crying out. Suddenly he heard a male voice, but making noises he had never heard. 

            Crawling out on his knees, he cautiously searched for the source of the noises.  He found them. The sight made him fall flat on his stomach, and his mouth was open.

            On the other edge of the fast water was another meadow, ringed with trees. In it were strange wood objects that were tall, like trees in the cold time.  A large fire burned in the center, and two tall figures were holding a pig carcass over the flames.  Several small ones were indeed running around and making all sorts of noise. Muka was sure there would be no game around for  a long ways with all these strange loud sounds.

            A tall figure, who sounded male, came among the small ones.  He made two of them follow him to the edge of the fast water.  He gave each of them a small sharp spear. Then he walked into the fast water up to his knees. Muka was shocked. When one entered the fast water, one fell in and was gone. This tall one stayed, standing still, not falling in.

            The tall one held his spear for what seemed a long time, then plunged it into the fast water.  When he brought it out, there was a water animal flapping on the end.  The two small ones stood in the water and watched, trying to copy the tall one.  One of them plunged his spear in and toppled over, falling into the fast water.

            Muka was startled and cried out.  Not sure how, he found himself standing.  The other small turned quickly and seeing Muka, froze. The tall one went into the fast water and helped the fallen small one back onto the land.  Muka gasped aloud.  This time the tall one heard it too.  The three of them turned and looked straight at Muka.

            Tapoh laughed as his son, Tipunu, tried to get the hang of fishing.  Tipunu came out wet, but with a smile on his face.

            “A fish, big!”

            “Tipunu learns.” Tapoh patted him on the shoulder, proud. Then he heard a strange sound.

            Across the river, his large face in shock, was a heavy set stranger. His hair was long and matted.  He wore no clothes and  held a very simple spear. Tapoh stared, and the stranger stared back.  After a long moment, Tapoh raised his hand in greeting.

            Muka scurried away, terrified. What were these creatures,  tall, with power over fast water and water animals?  When the tall one had raised his hand, Muka was terrified that he would have power over him as well. Muka ran the entire distance  back to his cave, his clan, scared of something he could not understand.

Caveprints...

Ancient footprints in Pyrenees Cave

Image from http://neanderthal.de/blog/

I cannot wait for July 17, when the findings from this interesting and informative project are released!  I'm going on the presumption (for now) these are ancient Homo Sapiens prints.  If the results are that they're Neanderthal, well then that's another blog! Update: another article about these prints dated them to 13000 years ago...so that takes care of any Neanderthal prints. Dern it...

Cave in the Pyrenees, +/- 13,000 years ago

The sun was going down, but there was still time to finish the meet, and walk to the fires.  Mato and Vako stood still, pondering.  Vako's son of nine winters, Vaki, walked back and forth, practicing his spear stance.  Mato stood quietly, looking at the cave floor.  His held his spear in his quiet hand, gripping it firmly.  Vako saw that Mato put weight on the foot and spear side.  Mato would not say it, but he was was getting tired.  As Mato had no sons any more, Vako and his son Vaki were next to lead. 

Vako turned his head to the lowering sun again, still waiting for Mato to speak.   Vaki continued pacing back and forth.  At length he stopped and wandered to the Wall of the Old Ones.  Mato's father, and his father before him had left their Hands on the Wall.  Vaki reached out to measure his hand against one of them.

"Ssst!" hissed Vako.  Vaki turned and his father was signaling for him to sit down.  Vaki did so, he hadn't planned to touch the handprints...that was taboo, and would bring bad luck to the Leader.  

Mato glanced up, broken from his thoughts.  He shook his head sadly at the boy, but there was just a glimmer of a smile.  Mato had understood it was just curiosity.

With a heavy sigh, Mato walked over.  He gestured with his working hand for Vaki to leave. Vaki was already on his feet before glancing at his father.  Vako reached out and put a strong hand on Vaki's shoulder, ushering him outside the cave.

Mato stood in front of the Wall of the Old Ones.  Something in him knew he could touch the hands now.  Looking to be sure Vaki and Vako could not see him, he reached out.  He touched his father's hand, now smaller than his own.  He touched his father's father's hand, which was even smaller.  Mato touched all the hands on the Wall of the Old Ones.  He felt like a huge weight had been lifted. 

Quietly, he pulled out the rolled leather he had carried up with him.  Kneeling on the floor, he made sure all the objects were still there.  Two hollow bones.  A piece of red crumbling stone.  A small old dried gourd, that held a precious amount of spring water.  A small stone, hollowed in the middle from generations of use.  A smaller oblong stone.

Mato had only seen this done once before, when his father's father had done this.  The green time his father had done it, he had been away on a hunt.  He had come back, feeling proud that he and the other warriors had found and killed an adult mammoth, only to find his father had died.  A rogue bear had come out of the woods.  Even though his father was a great hunter and great leader, that day he had been too slow.  Some had said his father waited for the beast to get him.  Mato had felt great grief that his father couldn't put his hand on the Wall.  Then, he saw the faded red stains on his fathers working hand.  This red wasn't blood.  Somehow, his father had known.

And now, Mato knew.  He felt tired in his bones.  He felt the cold winter coming.  He did not care if he saw the next green time, or not.  Since he had lost his mate and sons, little interested him as it had before.  And so, he readied himself to put up his hand.

He ground the red stone, adding water a drop at a time, until it was right. He carefully poured the mixture into one of the hollow bones.  Carefully, he stood up, and put his working hand amongst the Wall of the Old Ones.  He then stopped.

"Vaki" he called.

Vaki appeared at the opening of the cave, his eyes big.

"Come" Mato spoke firmly, gesturing with  his head.

Vaki came in slowly, in awe of what he was about to witness.  An arm's length away from Mato,  he stopped.  Mato positioned his working hand on the wall until it felt right.  Using his quiet hand, he put the hollow bone stuffed with the red stone mixture into his mouth.  He breathed in deeply through his nose, then blew the red onto his hand.  His thumb and first two fingers were covered in red.

"More." he said to Vaki.  Vaki looked at the objects and with a little prompting from Mato, filled the second hollow bone with the remaining mixture.  Mato blew again.  This time it all his fingers were covered.  Very slowly, Mato pulled away his hand.

Both Mato and Vaki gasped quietly.  Seeing a fresh hand on the Wall of the Old Ones was a powerful experience.

After a little, Mato turned to Vaki and smiled.  He put out his hand and Vaki took it.  Gently, he put Vaki's hand into his freshly made one, being ever so careful not to touch the fresh red spray.  He then had Vaki touch the other hands of the Wall of the Old Ones.

Quietly, they picked up the objects and wrapped them in the leather.  Mato stood straighter than he had in a long time.  He gave the leather roll to Vaki to carry. Vako's eyes widened when he saw the two emerge from the cave.  He gave a quiet nod to Mato, who pretended he didn't see it. He went to smile at Vaki, but Vaki had his head turned, looking at the cave, seeing the footprints they'd left.

As they walked down the mountain to the fires, Mato absently scratched an itch on his chest with  his freshly stained red hand.

Vaki saw, and was sad to see there would be blood on Mato sometime soon.