Besides, Tor didn’t trust those bloodthirsty tribes with their giant heads on small bodies, the ones who used bones as clubs. He’d always steered clear of the Big Heads, the ones with enormous teeth and jaws and with bony crests on top of their skulls supporting their jutting jaws. Usually, they kept to themselves, moving in large, expeditionary gangs. Fortunately, there didn’t seem to be as many of them as there’d once been when he was a young child. Once, he’d seen them kill one of his own kind, bludgeoning its small body into the ground, ignoring its screams, cries and roars until they died out. Tor had been shocked by the grisly deed. From that time on, he’d shunned them.
These days, there seemed to be just as many of his own kin as there were Big Heads. They were gradually becoming the outcasts. And they were still so ugly! Far safer just to stay together with your own kind, the ones you know, the ones you look like.
Tor seldom allowed his son to use his spear. The ape-boy’s job was to watch and learn. His only real weapon was his father, for his own body was not yet strong enough to fight. Or so he thought. Naturally, he always stayed close to his parent, like a shadow.
In addition, he carried his father’s jagged handaxe, a small, heavy stone pointed at one end and rounded at its base, in a pouch made from animal skin which he tied around his waist. That was the only garment the hominids wore. After a kill, Ayak would hand the stone tool to his father to cut open the animal and strip its skin. It always amazed him just how quickly it could be sliced off the slain creature’s body.
He didn’t know Tor had secretly been making a spear for him, which he’d hidden away under some rock bushes. His plan was to present it to his son once the coming initiation was over.
CHAPTER TWO
THE FIRST THUNDERSTORM of the season nearly always came as a shock to the animals and ape-men living in the basin of the North Mountain. One afternoon, banks of clouds rolled across the sky, chasing away some lighter clouds. It got darker. Then the sky seemed to turn into an arena of conflict, as if the gods were fighting. Spears of fire were hurled to the ground. Loud rumbling continued and the Earth shook.
Ayak clung to his mother behind a rock. The trees around them waved frantically in the wind as if they wanted to run away but couldn’t. Tor saw that his son was trembling. He’d expected that. His wife, too, was wide-eyed. It didn’t seem like the right time to teach his son about the magic strength that lies hidden inside the soul. Let the first storm pass, he thought to himself. Let the element of surprise subside. Perhaps the next storm, or the one after that…
Sometime later, father and son were hunting for a small buck to kill. Kyra, who was now carrying child again, was constantly hungry. The growing family was in need of a good, solid meal.
After her first child, Kyra had lost a series of babies during birth. She was happy, and yet anxious, to sense her womb expanding once again with another little one.
She had a small head and large, searching eyes. Her black, matted hair was long and thick. Often, when they were together, Tor liked to look at her, whether they were relaxing in their main tree home, or eating a meal together on the ground in the cover of boulders and rocks.
Out on the plains that day, the bucks, as ever, were alert and nimble. It was going to take a lot of patience to catch one. Following the soaking from the first summer rains, the grass had grown long enough to provide cover for the hunter and his son. They were lying downwind, able to crawl closer and closer to their prey through the grass. A warm breeze filtered across the bush.
Ayak was excited. It was like a game. It was a role he loved to play. They were close enough to their prey to smell them. A blade of grass tickled the boy’s face and he pulled it out and began chewing it, to help pass the time and to steady his nerves.
Tor raised his head briefly above the grass to estimate the size of the herd. He wanted to check out their positions. The animals were unaware they were being watched.
As the sunlight continued to beat down on them, Ayak got thirsty. Heat was building up. He longed to go down to the river to drink. But he knew the hunt had to come first, above his own needs. He licked his lips to moisten them. Perspiration trickled down his face. Then the sun went behind a few high-lying clouds. The breeze picked up, bringing more hot air.
Gradually, as the hunters inched forwards, the sky darkened. Not that it got any cooler. In fact, the heat seemed to rise.
Tor spotted a wave of apprehension flicker through the herd of buck. At that moment, the grassland seemed to fill up with uncertainty. The animals’ ears pricked up as they sniffed the air. Some of them shuffled, restless. This change of mood forced the hunter’s hand. He started crawling again, this time with urgency written on his face, followed by Ayak.
A buck noticed movements in the grass. It decided to bolt, triggering similar responses in other members of the herd. Tor stood up and ran towards the frightened, fleeing creatures. He hurled his spear at the buck closest to him. It hit the prey with a glancing blow which pierced its skin. For a second, the creature faltered, buckling under the impact. This brief hesitation gave Tor time to dash forward. He pounced onto the straggler. The animal started kicking as it tried to escape his grip. It managed to bite its attacker on the arm, causing the ape-man to scream out and cringe. But he didn’t let go.
Ayak was running towards them. He was alarmed about the struggle but he knew what he had to do. He handed his father the handaxe from his pouch. This proved to be a lifeline. Tor immediately bashed the buck over the head with the heavy stone weapon, stunning it. Two more blows were all that was needed to end its life.
After the chase and fight, the exhausted hominid rolled over and lay on the ground for a few moments, recovering his breath. He was panting from exertion. Ayak sat next to him as he rested, his son scanning the surroundings for any other dangers.
All around, it had turned strangely quiet. No animals. No ape-men. No birds in the sky. Just the occasional whoosh of wind across the plains.
Then there was a distant rumbling. The ape-boy sensed a thunderstorm was coming. He shook his father, who opened his eyes. Tor didn’t sit up but lay for a time, pondering. Had the time come? He looked at the bite mark on his arm. It was bleeding a little. There were some scratches. Now that the adrenalin of the hunt had subsided in him, he could feel his arm throbbing with pain.
More rumblings… they were getting louder. He glanced at his child sitting next to him. Already, there was fear in his eyes. Fear… like a disease. Fear…. like an enemy within. He couldn’t let it stay inside his son’s spirit, or it would surely one day kill him.
Yes, Tor decided, the time had come. He sat up, highly alert.
Overhead, peals of thunder boomed and banged. A few seconds later, the first arrows of lightening streaked down. Father and son stood up next to the fallen buck, alone on the plains. Tor hugged his boy to stop him from shaking. As for Ayak, he was wondering why on earth they weren’t already running towards home. What was happening? Yet, he still felt safe in his father’s arms.
The first cloudbursts broke as rain fell in sheets in the distance. Still, Tor didn’t budge. Thunder cracked. But his father refused to move. He took his son’s hand and pushed him slightly sideways so that they were standing further apart. Just then, a long, jagged bolt of lightning raced across the heavens. The ape-boy began trembling again, his legs and hands shaking uncontrollably. His father squeezed his hand tight. But it didn’t stop the shivering snaking through the boy’s body.