The Meeting

Farmers assimilated Hunter-Gatherers

Scandinavia, =/- 9000 years ago

Torg rested on the fencepost, regarding his work.  Two winters ago he, his wife and children, and his brothers with their families had found this lovely field.  It was surrounded by forested rolling hills, and a flowing stream to the north.  Turning slowly, Torg took it all in. There was a fine net across the stream, that provided fish for their supper. Three small sod and grass huts were clustered together in the eastern part of the field. Smoke rose from two of them at the moment. In the already worn dirt in front of the huts, three small children squealed and ran around.  To the south was a large area where he grew wheat and barley.  His woman and his oldest daughter were working there, removing stray grasses and ensuring the crop was growing well.  Another smooth area was left to grow grass for their two cows and twenty sheep. In front of Torg were two pens, the second of which he had just finished. The cows and sheep had been sharing the first one, now he could bring the sheep into the second pen during the summer nights.  In the cold season, the animals stayed in the huts with them, providing warmth and milk. Torg was satisfied for the moment.  Three days journey to the south was the village of his parents and his wife’s family.  Torg would be going down to get another cow and some more seeds for next year’s crops.  In time, this field would be full with his own small village.

While Torg was resting, looking over his homestead, he was being watched. Across the stream, hiding in the trees, Tuka looked on in anger and amazement.  For two seasons he and his small tribe had been going north, following the paths of the deer.  This season, they had headed west for a change. Tuka had remembered this large meadow. Deer had often come here in the early morning to feed, and drink from the fresh stream where he was now standing. Yet instead of deer, or any sign of them, he saw strange people, with odd growths coming from the ground. Also they had animals, just staying put, eating the grass.  Tuka didn’t know what any of this meant. All he knew at the moment was that there were no deer for his tribe to hunt and then eat.  Stunned, Tuka watched a while longer, then turned and went back to his camp.   The next day he took his eldest son, Toki, to watch again. On the way they caught a few birds and a rabbit.  When they arrived at the stream, Tuka pointed to the strange things coming up from the ground. When Toki looked, his eyes widened.  He also saw a girl, who might have been his own age, poking around in the grasses.  He couldn’t figure out what she was doing, but her long blond hair glowed in the sunlight.  A movement from his side caught Toki’s eye. His father was lifting his bow, ready to shoot one of the placid beasts eating in the field.  “Da, No!” he yelled and pulled on Tuka’s arm.  In anger, Tuka swung around and hit his face.  Blood flowed from Toki’s cheek. Sullenly, Toki glared at his father, then after quickly washing his face in the stream, he grabbed the birds and rabbit and ran across the cold shallow water to the meadow. 

Torg heard the sudden yell from across the stream. He stood up and stared, looking for the source of the voice. His daughter, Dari, also heard the noise and stopped pulling the stray grasses.  As they both watched a figure emerged from the shadows, running across the stream.  It was a youth, slightly older than Dari.  His brown hair was long and tousled.  He wore a well-worn leather tunic, with wet leggings wrapped around his slender yet strong legs.  As he stood there, holding out the strung birds, an older man came running up behind.  His brown hair had streaks of gray, and there was a scar running down his left cheek.  He spoke angrily to the younger man, trying to grab the birds from him.  Torg watched the exchange, then raised a hand.

“Come.” He said. “Come.” He indicated that the two should follow him.  Tuka began yelling again, gesturing for his son to follow him.  Torg stepped up to him, and put a hand on Tuka’s shoulder. Tuka shrugged it off.  Again Torg gestured for them both to follow.  Slowly Tuka and Toki walked behind him as he went toward the huts. Toki stared at Dari, who just stood there.

Torg called to his wife. “We have guests, bring some cheese and bread.”   Torg’s wife came outside, and looked at the strangers.  After regarding them for a moment she brought out several small loaves of fresh bread and a lump of cheese.  She held them out to the guests with a smile on her face.  Tuka just stared at her, but Toki shyly took a loaf.  He smelled it, felt it with his hands, licked it.  Dari couldn’t help but laugh. Red-faced, Toki dropped his hand.  Seeing his confusion, Dari took a loaf, and bit into it. She gestured for Toki to do the same. Toki sniffed the bread again, then tried biting it. He got a mouthful and began to chew. His eyes widened as he tasted bread for the first time.  Dari took the cheese from her mother, and took a piece and put it in her mouth. She held out the cheese to Toki.  He wrinkled his nose, smelling it.  Then he put a lump of it in his mouth.  After a moment he turned to his father, and in a rapid dialect unknown to Torg and his family, offered the bread and cheese to his father.

Tuka had had enough.  He didn’t want the odd looking and awful smelling food. He wanted to hunt his deer.  Rapidly he grabbed the strung birds they had collected that morning and walked back to the stream.  Just before he crossed it, he turned back and yelled angrily at Torg and his family, making angry gestures.  Toki frowned, and with evident sadness, turned and slowly followed his father.  Several times he looked back at Dari. Torg knew that look and harshly told Dari to go into the hut.

Over the next few moons, Toki stopped by the meadow.  He talked in his strange tongue, but after some time, he and Torg began to understand one another.  Toki told him that his father, Tuka, wanted to shoot his animals, as they looked to be easy hunting.  Torg answered that Tuka would be welcome to bread and cheese anytime, and meat from the sheep when they were slaughtered. Dari also learned to speak to Toki, and soon the two began teaching the other their way of life.  Dari began to understand how to follow game, and trap birds, while Toki learned how to get milk from a cow and what the strange grasses were.

Tuka went north to hunt by himself during the cooling season. He never returned. Toki suspected that he wanted to hunt by himself, and not be involved in the people who didn’t move.  As his tribe dwindled, Toki spent more and more time with Dari and her family.  In time, she became his wife, and he left the hunting life forever.

Many seasons later Torg hobbled out to the old fence he had built.  There were five more huts now, and more cows and sheep.  Toki had also caught some wild geese, and some of these were now tamed, providing eggs and feathers for the village.  Toki came out, with his youngest child on his shoulders.  Looking across the stream, he thought he saw the shape of an old man, but he couldn’t be sure.

The Runt

Another great idea submitted by the elusive P.W.  Creative changes and editing done by yours truly.

The Runt.

American Plains, +/- 10,000 years ago

Ura had dreamt of being a hunter of the Wolf Clan for all his young life.  As a little child, he had learned to shoot arrows and throw bolas.  At times an elder would take all the boys and teach them how to track animals. When they grew older, they learned to set traps, catching rabbits and birds. Ura excelled at all of this, but as the cold seasons came and went, Ura remained small.  After 14 cold seasons  he was three full hands shorter than the others of his age. 

The elders took this as a bad sign, and began to forbid Ura to hunt with them.  The white haired men said that a small hunter would bring small game, and the tribe would go hungry. So the elders refused to teach Ura anything more, including how to make knives or spears, the weapons of adults.  He was even forbidden to set traps or use his bow and bolas any more.  Shunned by all of the adult males, even his own father, he was forced to do women’s work.  The women tittered and laughed at him, giving him only the work that even the youngest children could do.

Ura bent his head down to hide his shame.  He did his simple errands quickly and quietly. When no one was looking, Ura would sneak off to watch and follow the other hunters and youths.  He learned to double back on his trips around the camp, then he would hide in the brush. In this way he watched the elders teach the other young males how to make the knife and spear point out of the shiny black stone. Whenever he could, he would sneak out to the place of black stones and practice making a knife and a spear.  It wasn’t long before he made a knife that would draw red with the slightest pressure, and a spear that was short and stout with a point that would pierce even the toughest hide.  Ura kept these prized possessions hidden from others, for he knew that only hunters of the clan were allowed to have them. He became so good at hiding and following that he began to practice on animals, until he was able to sneak within touching distance of the deer and antelope.

One day four of the youth were chosen to become new hunters for the Wolf Clan. They had each been trained by the other hunters in all of the skills denied to Ura, and were sent out to prove themselves. If they brought back a deer or antelope, they would be real hunters of the Wolf Clan. That night Ura snuck out, taking his precious knife and spear, to follow and watch.  Despite all the shunning, he still longed to be a true hunter of the Wolf Clan. Even in the dark Ura knew how to read the spore left behind by the hunters and other game. From a safe distance he watched them make camp and fire, while he hid in a thicket of thorny bushes for the night. The next morning Ura watched the young hunters spread out and follow the spore of a large deer. He watched as time and again the deer was able to see or sense the young hunters and run away to a safe distance.  Twice during the day Ura found himself within spear distance and once so close that he could have touched the deer.  Even so, the other young hunters never saw Ura.

Late that afternoon as Ura watched, it looked like one of the young hunters would finally have his chance.  As the young man was carefully aiming his spear, Ura saw movement behind the hunter in the tall grass. Watching it, Ura realized that it was one of the long toothed cats.  Ura’s mouth opened in surprise; this was a tale from those with white hair. No one had seen a long toothed cat in many many cold seasons.  Yet here was a huge yet skinny cat, quietly stalking the unsuspecting hunter.  Without stopping to think, Ura darted quickly to get close to the cat before it could attack the young hunter. When he was just four body lengths from the cat, he could sense that the animal was ready to pounce on the hunter.  Standing up, Ura yelled the Wolf Clan cry and threw his spear at the cat.  The cat moved so fast that the spear missed its mark and just caught the cat in the hind quarter. Snarling, the ferocious cat turned toward Ura and pounced.  Ura barely had time to pull his knife free when the cat was on him. Ura stabbed wildly and as fast as he could as he felt the weight of the cat fall on him.  Pain jolted through Ura as the claws dug into his arms, legs and chest. He could feel the cats hot breath on his face and points of intense pain on his head as the long teeth bit and tore his skin. The ferocious growl filled his ears until that was all he knew. Still Ura stabbed in and out as fast as he could until blackness took him.

The young hunter, who was called Unda, heard the cry and turned in time to see the great cat leap onto Ura. Unda ran as fast as he could towards the cat with spear ready, but when he arrived it was already over. The huge yet scrawny cat lay lifeless on top of Ura.  As Unda knelt beside the body of the cat, looking for Ura, the other three hunters came running to his aid. They rolled the cat off of Ura and saw Ura move.

 Unda said to the others “He still breathes!”  So the hunters lifted Ura and the body of the great cat and carried them both back to the clan. When they returned they told their story to everyone as the medicine man worked on Ura.  The women wailed and the hunters and elders were in awe of the cat that little Ura had killed.  The next morning the medicine man announced to the clan that Ura was awake but he would be taking the long sleep.

The clan leader went to the bed of grass where Ura lay and in a voice that all could hear stated, “Ura, you are a hunter of the Wolf Clan.”  He then laid his spear beside Ura. Turning to the village, he raised his hands up and proclaimed, “The Wolf Clan is now the Big Cat Clan!”

His father came next.  He knelt by his broken son, tears streaming down his face. “Ura, your body is small, but your spirit is large. I am sad I did not see this before.”  Ura smiled at his father.  His father then laid his spear next to Ura and his voice rough with grief cried, “My son Ura, is a hunter of the Big Cat Clan!”

The other hunters came to Ura’s side and one by one said ”Ura you are a hunter of the Big Cat Clan” and each laid his spear next to Ura.  Ura watched them all, as the day became whiter and warmer. A lone wolf came walking by the pile of spears, along with a quiet big cat, and by the light surrounding them, Ura knew it was time for him to leave.   Ura closed his eyes for the long sleep, his face smiling for he was now and always a hunter of the Big Cat Clan.

The weeping women of the Big Cat Clan wrapped him in the hide of the great cat that he had killed.  The hunters then took his body to the sacred place for those who slept the long sleep. They placed his body high on a platform made of the hunters spears and placed the skull of the great cat on his chest with the spear and knife that he had made by his side. Ura slept the long sleep, his spirit ever guarding the Big Cat Clan. 

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.

Family

Inspired by a friend's post, and with a prehistoric nod to the royal baby due soon...

+/- 2,000,000 years ago, African river valley

It was wet. Dripping soaking wet. The grasses were soaked, making walking difficult, cold. The ground under the grasses was thick with mud. And still the waters fell from up. This was not common. They were headed for a dry rocky overhang in the hills across a stream.

Tey searched the group of just over a hand of fingers struggling through the wet day. Tey saw his aging mother, then his sister, Grah who was big with a coming baby. Walking slightly ahead, was his sister’s mate, Ahrr, who was older than Tey and the biggest of the group. Running and playing were two young ones who fed themselves, but still needed help often.Old Er, who had only three teeth left, came up behind. Tey stayed near his mother out of habit. Long since weaned, he still saw the look on his mothers face when he had romped around as he learned to walk and call her.

The water continued and soon they came to the muddy sides of the stream they had wanted to cross. It was much bigger than before, brown and running fast. Arhh crouched down in the mud. They all crouched down around him, sniffing the air for danger. It was almost impossible to hear anything coming, with the roaring and gurgling of the water.

Arhh stood up, looked around once more, and then headed across the water. One of the younger ones, being adventurous, escaped the hold of Grah and chased after Arhh. His cry of delight in the water soon turned to a scream of pain as the water knocked him down onto rocks. Helplessly, he was tossed down the rushing, angry stream. Arhh, hearing this, tried to catch the youngster. In doing so, he tripped and fell into the water. After a terrible short scream, he floated away limply; face down in the dirty torrent.

Grah called helplessly after him and would have gone to him, but Tey grabbed her and threw her on the ground. She was carrying a baby and they had just lost one. Still screaming, Tey held her down. His mother came over and started rubbing the big baby bump, crooning “Bah bah bah…bah bah bah”

As Grah quieted down, Tey stood up and looked around. He sniffed the air. The water from upwards was stopping. The stream continued to be strong and fierce. Tey grabbed a long branch that had floated down. He tested it against the flowing stream. It gave some support and was not too big to hold. He grabbed the other youngster who was quietly mourning the loss of his sibling, and put him on his hip. The youngster was heavy, but Tey was strong. Using the branch, he carefully felt his way across. The rocks were slippery and big. Finally getting across, he dropped the youngster.

Turning around he saw that his mother and Grah were doing the same thing. Old Er stood patiently, making no move to cross over. Tey started back. His mother and sister were going slow but seemed safe. Tey reached the muddy bank again and extended his hand to Er, who took it slowly. They made their way across, carefully. Grah and his mother were almost to the far bank. Tey was getting very tired now, and slipped a little. Er held steady.

Suddenly there was a painful cry. Grah was on the bank, holding mother. His mother was trying to climb up, but one foot was not coming out of the stream. When Grah pulled, she screamed. Tey and Er did their best to get there faster, both slipping several times on the large boulders they could not see. Tey came along side his mother. He still held the branch and Er. Looking at his mother’s eyes, seeing the pain, he wanted to help stop that pain.  He saw in his head that he was now the leader, with Arhh being gone. And Grah would need help with the baby. Mother could help. He let go of Er and grabbed his mother. Er grabbed once for the branch, then slipped. He too, went down the wild ride of the surging brook. Tey could not be sure, but he thought he heard Er cry out, “Bah bah bah…” as he disappeared from view.

Feeling with his foot, Tey could sense that his mother’s foot was caught between two rocks. He kicked at one of them, crying out as he broke his toes. His kick loosed the rock and as he and Grah pulled, his mother climbed onto the shore and collapsed on the wet rock. Grah stood, holding the hand of the young one. Tey limped painfully to mother and helped her up. Her foot was bleeding, but it did not look too bad. Together, the small band of one hand of fingers scrambled up to the rocky over hang.