The Song of the Wind
Benjamin Trayne
The Cold
If ever a young boy could have been expected to die, Tay-nah was he. The low heat of a small fire barely reached him through the narrow gap that separated him from it. And yet, for the moment, with the furry hide of a great bear tugged closely about his thin body, it was just enough to keep him from freezing. He was now alone in the world and in this place, and it was colder than any winter he had ever imagined.
This was the way he spent every night, barely awake, and hardly asleep. Yellow flames danced in the swirling draft of frigid air that forced its way past the low hide-covered doorway, and the smoke formed a spiral as it raced for the small hole in the ceiling. The welcome light of the fire also danced in Tay-nah's liquid, half-open eyes, and frost from his breath gathered on his prominent eyebrows. Three things had kept him from drifting off. Should the fire go out, he would surely freeze to death. Should one of the big predators that often prowled outside in the darkness become bold enough to attack, Tay-nah wanted a chance to raise the point of a long, chert-tipped spear between it and himself. Lastly, the hunger gnawing at his belly made it difficult to sleep, anyway.
Overhead, a thick layer of new snow weighed down the hides his father had lashed over saplings, providing some shelter from the constant wind and the extreme cold. For days he had cleared the snow each morning to keep the shelter from collapsing, but now, at last, the snow around it had become so deep that all he could do was to push aside what had gathered again on the top.
All of Tay-nah's people, including his father, were gone. But for some reason, he knew it was not yet time for him to follow them. He had not been taken like the rest, and he would live. Perhaps he could find something to eat in the other shelters, even though most of them were still occupied by frozen bodies of the dead.
Fighting sleep, the boy's mind wandered off to a fading vision of his mother, who two years earlier had been alive. She had comforted him while a storm passed, her arm about his shoulders, as she whispered, “On laul tuul”. The song of the wind. He smiled slightly. As a powerful blast of winter wind tore at the hole in the ceiling, the memory helped. He reached for his small pile of wood, put two larger pieces on the fire, and allowed himself to drift off to sleep, at last.
Some centuries earlier, Tay-nah's ancestors had traveled a very great distance in search of a new home. Many had set out together. Few survived the trek. It was the time of great ice, and there was no more game to be hunted. They were heavily outnumbered and unwelcome to
2
the south, and so although it had seemed like a deliberate walk into oblivion, they had journeyed north. Even a slim hope of survival was better than certain death. Eventually, a few had at last reached a new land on the other side of the world, beyond the great expanse of glaciers. They found themselves no more welcomed than from where they had come, but the hunting was good, and over time, they made their new surroundings their home, and would go no further. They gradually blended with the people here. And as before, eventually, things changed.
Tay-nah's people had recently begun to move northward, following the herds of great mastodon as they moved. The time of the expansive sheets of ice was going away, and the animals were now moving toward the receding glacier, the freshwater runoff and the advancing greenery there. His people were resourceful and good hunters, and had no fear of the huge predators that had also come here, or of the powerful cold they knew would descend during these months. But they were not many, and they were not immune to disease. In fact, that was why Tay-nah now found himself alone. One of the adults had fallen ill, then another, then three more. There had been just three other children in the tribe, two younger boys and a girl who was slightly older than Tay-nah. But now, they were gone too.
Tay-nah did not believe himself special, and he had no thoughts about why he had been spared the ravages of the sickness. He only knew that he had been. In fact, although his life had only seen ten summers pass, he was unusually strong, unusually able. And as were any who survived here, he was more mature than his youth might have otherwise seemed to suggest. But deep inside, he was still no more than a boy.
The deep roar of the winter wind at last diminished with the arrival of daylight. Tay-nah awakened with a start and opened his eyes. The fire was little more than a few embers, and he hastened to add twigs and leaves from his fuel stock to bring the flames back to life. But with the demise of the fire, the snow had closed over the hole in the ceiling of the hut, and smoke quickly began to fill the small space within. Reluctantly, the boy shed the stiffened bear hide and shoved his way outside, pushing back a great deal of new snow to make his exit. He blinked and squinted as the extensive white landscape both sparkled and blinded him. Tugging at the straps on his leggings to close them more snugly, he reached for the pole he had been using to clear the snow from the top of the hut, and went to work. Once the smoke could escape, there could be only one goal for him this day...find food. He checked and rebuilt his fire, then began working his way toward the nearest hut, struggling through snow that was nearing two meters in depth.
Each of the shelters would yield something, although the first two contributed very little. But finally, as Tay-nah succeeded in gaining access to a third, his efforts were rewarded. This had been the hut where meat had been brought for smoking. Strips of meat hung above the cold fire pit, and all of it was frozen hard. It seemed miraculous the animals here had not gotten to it first. In the second hut he had entered, he had found two human bodies frozen to the ground. One of them had already been partially eaten. The marauding animal must have been small, and perhaps it couldn't reach the strips of meat in this hut. Tay-nah wouldn't give it another chance. He wrapped as much of the meat as he could lift into the hide that had covered the door and carried it to his own hut. He went back for the rest. He would store the meat along the inner edge of his hut and cover it with more hides to keep it frozen. He had also found two sacks that
3
were each half-full of wild rice, brought here from the south. Although a boy, he knew well enough to avoid eating his fill, saving most of the food for later. Now he would have to find a way to protect his precious collected cache. He began to gather the weapons he could find.
The resourcefulness of his people was his as well. He would use a chert hatchet to help him to dig a trench, then the butt-ends of spears would be placed into it, the shafts supported by a sapling and the points arranged in a line at the hut entrance. He lashed sharpened sticks to a sapling frame and propped it up, weighting it with a large rock. He set it up as a trap so that the entry of a smaller animal would trip it, dropping the sharpened sticks between the shafts of the spears. Thus if the scent of his food cache was detected, it was bait, and he might harvest some small animals. Reinforcing the walls of the hut with cut saplings from some of the other huts, would follow.
The young boy who might have surely died, instead began to gain strength during the long winter months, his senses sharpened by his circumstances. The predators left him alone, now and then daring to raid an unguarded hut and feeding on the bodies of the dead. Tay-nah hated that, but he also knew what his options were - none. So he worked and planned, realizing that some of his will to survive had come from the memory of his father's eyes. His father had gazed up at him just before he died, his sickened eyes shining with a few tears, with remorse, and with pity. He had not expected his child would survive. Thus whatever Tay-nah did for himself, he also did because it would have made his father proud. Each night, too, Tay-nah returned to mental visions of his mother, whom he'd never really stopped missing.
And always, for some company, there was the song of the wind.
The Stone Mounds
For Tay-nah, the winter slowly passed and the track of the sun gradually moved higher in the sky. The snow still came often but now, it collected on ice, as the snow pack had softened and refrozen dozens of times. Tay-nah waited patiently, daring to venture outside without quite all of the heavy wraps he'd worn during the coldest times. Today he tossed his head in the chill wind, his sandy hair blowing out behind him. By now it had grown well below his shoulders. He himself had grown nearly three inches since this time a year earlier, although he didn't realize it; and he was much stronger, both physically and emotionally.
As Tay-nah scanned the landscape, he remembered summer and fall here. There was a river not far off to the south. When there was no snow, it was an easy walk from the huts. But it was now dangerously high and choked with heaved and broken chunks of ice, and would remain that way for several more months. A few miles further to the south, crags of limestone jutted from the mountain tops. Here and there a tree spiked up among them. He recalled the comparatively low hills much farther to the south, where he'd been born. There, many more trees and much more greenery blanketed the land, as they had been well away from the nearest
4
advance of a glacier. Here, the trees were sparse even in the lowlands, and the meadows of grass that grew in summer were broken up by equally wide areas that were nothing but stones, deposited there by the ice. The final encampment of his people had been built in a grassy area that had also supported enough small trees for them to construct their huts. Nevertheless, there were many rocks about. Rocks were on the surface, everywhere.
He had seen the dead buried before, and he remembered too well the burial of his mother. He knew what to do. His objective would be simply to prevent animals from getting to the bodies further, nothing more. Here it should be easy. If only he had some help. If only, he wasn't so completely alone. If only there weren't so many of them. There would be fourteen adults and three children to bury.
Realizing that it was critical to complete the task as quickly as possible after the first major thaw, Tay-nah decided he could not afford to wait until all of the snow was gone. And many of the adults had been twice his own weight, so he wouldn't be moving them far. The snow, which had condensed and compacted to less than a meter in depth, could no longer be the limiting factor. The huts had been constructed close together, the graves would be as well. He selected a nearby hut that already had two bodies within it and he set to work, using the rocks from the fire circles in all of the huts to begin on that one. It was hard work, and when he had but two layers of stones covering the bodies, he began to realize just how much more it would take to finish. This would be enough for now, for this grave.
He also understood there was an even greater problem. The smoking of the meat had obviously not been completed, and he wasn't sure how to do it. That had not mattered while the temperatures were very low. However now he could raise the temperature in his hut to an almost comfortable level of warmth, and he'd had to cut through the wall of the hut to bury the cache of meat in the snowbank that lay against it. The meat was no longer frozen hard, and that meant the under-cured portion would spoil before very much longer. It would be quite some time before any browse or berries would be available, and he'd killed nothing with his trap. He began to eat his fill each day while the meat was still fit, and he began to venture out in search of game.
The year as a whole would be the hardest of his life. He worked continually, one day on burying the dead and the next, searching for food. The meat began to turn and he began to use it to bait his makeshift traps. He caught nothing. The snowpack soon vanished, and he realized he was in serious peril of starvation. Nevertheless, he worked through hunger to complete the low mounds of stones over all of the bodies, mostly arranged in twos, side by side.
The hardest part was that he knew the names of each of them. All of them had meant something to him. They were his people, and he would not dishonor their memory by leaving them to rot in the summer sun, or to become carrion for vultures. His fingers cracked and bled, and hard calluses formed on his palms.
He resolved to bathe, as the smell of the bodies he'd had to move never seemed to leave him. It was then that he discovered the fresh water mussels that populated the shallows of the river. Baked on the rocks next to his fire, they were an excellent food source, and he didn't have to stalk or kill. He moved his hut to a high bank overlooking the river, away from the stone mounds. That was the event that began the life he could now consider his own.
Once that year, Tay-nah narrowly escaped death. The hide of the great bear that had kept
5
him warm might have been this one's brother, who knew? Tay-nah had seen only the occasional herd of deer and once, a lion. But it had been well away from his hut, and he had stayed hidden. Considering that the lion had killed a deer, he had begun to feel as though he was safe here. That all changed one evening when the bear came to call. It was monstrous, a “short-faced” bear, several times the size of the ordinary bears he had seen before. With one swipe of a great paw, the entire side of the hut had been opened. But the exit was on the opposite side, and Tay-nah scrambled through it, ran and dove into the icy river; and was carried downstream by the current. He had crossed the river and had hidden among the rocks in the darkness, listening to the huge bear roaring and pacing along the bank, upriver from his hiding place.
When morning finally came, the boy returned to what remained of his hut and couldn't quite believe what he found. This beast had not been the brother of his warm bear-hide. The tracks made by this animal were gigantic, like none he'd ever seen. Then he remembered the adults talking about these bears. It was the one species they felt they could not kill, even as a group, because of their size, strength, great speed and aggression. That was why they had been talking about building huts from stones. Escaping to such a building might actually be the only defense.
Tay-nah realized his survival was dependent on his speed and his strength, but even moreso, on preparation. He had much to learn, and he would be learning it on his own. The possibility of leaving this place never entered his mind. Instead, he saw it as the land and the last resting place of his people. It was home. He grew to be tall, strong, fleet of foot, and fearless. Like the rest of his people, he was an excellent hunter. His new dwelling was eventually lined inside with wood but built of stone, a heavy wooden door lashed together, built to deny entrance to even the largest of bears. He never again saw another human being. Fortunately for him, the short-faced bears seemed to have become just as scarce.
Animals and birds were plentiful in the region and were increasing in number and variety each year. Fish had not yet repopulated the waters during this period, so soon after the recession of glacial ice. Some creatures, such as the mastodon, would disappear from the earth entirely. Others would survive, a few, virtually unchanged.
Tay-nah would spend his teen years learning all he could about each kind of animal in his valley. He already knew which of them were predatory and which were not. For the non-predators, he would learn the differences between the males and the females, in coloration and craftiness. In most cases, the females provided better meat. But usually they were harder to pick out of their natural camouflage, and sometimes, they were actually much harder to hunt. For the predators, the lessons to learn were about survival. Could he outrun it? Was it possible for one man to kill it, if attacked? What time of day and where did members of its species hunt? What would be his best defense, if beset by more than one? Never was there a more willing or motivated student of the unknown, than was Tay-nah.
Soon, when he ventured out, he was suitably equipped with various kinds of weapons, most of which had been gathered from the huts of his people. A leather thong served as a stone-hurling sling. He had three atlatls and more than a dozen darts, had kept three fine spears for himself and several razor-sharp axes and knives, expertly crafted from chert. He carried his best spear as a walking stick, and he rigged his weapons together so that all could be dropped quickly if he needed to climb a tree to safety. Had anyone been there to see Tay-nah, he would
6
have been quite a picture, striding along the river, decked out with his weaponry.
The Wolf
The time arrived when Tay-nah had seen thirty-two summers. Long since, he had secured his food supply, learning what plants and fruits could be gathered and dried, and through experimentation, how to properly smoke meat to a lasting cure. He would not starve. He had been exploring the entire area for several years. He had traveled up and down the valley, following the river, and clambered to the tops of the mountains to the south just to see what lay beyond. At this point he knew where most of the animal trails, streams and waterfalls were, and where the trails would take him. He knew the best places to hunt, and the safest places along the river to bathe.
It was perhaps a trivial thing that set off a new series of events, seemingly insignificant things that continued like falling dominoes on a tabletop. They would change his existence completely.
One day, he had ventured into a small hollow formed by two converging hills. As he walked carefully along a steep hillside, he saw a shadow move past his own on the rocks before him. He looked up quickly, and saw the form of a great eagle soaring overhead. The eagle screamed, and its shriek echoed from the hillsides. Tay-nah stopped, amazed. He'd never heard a sound repeat itself. And so, to test the effect, he shouted. His deep, thunderous voice reverberated for a long time.
For the next several minutes, Tay-nah amused himself with the phenomenon, experimenting with loudness, softness and variations in tone and frequency. It was the first time he had ever truly heard himself, and he was impressed. He sounded even bigger than the way he remembered the voices of his people! In fact, he would have been considered an impressive baritone, had anyone been around to hear him.
After that day, Tay-nah became a lot noisier. When not hunting, he walked and talked, speaking to himself in the tongue of his people. After a while, he got used to talking. He spoke to the sky, he spoke to the birds. He knew he was being heard, because the sound of his voice had caused grazing bison to stop and look his way. His voice made him something of a greater presence in the area.
One night, Tay-nah lay awake, thinking and remembering his mother's singing. The only sounds that had ever approached its beauty were some of the more beautiful of the bird songs. He had to remember to try singing.
And so, the very next day, he did. He sang to the sky, he sang to the birds. He sang with and without words, sometimes chanting, his big voice rising and falling, as if telling the tale of the world's birth. But it was far from enough.
Tay-nah remembered that one of the things he had saved from the possessions of his people, had been a bone flute. He retrieved it from his small stash of remembrances, and
7
examined it. Then, of course, he tested it.
This surprise was a negative one. For Tay-nah, it merely hissed, squeaked and squawked. As he turned it over and examined it from all sides, he was puzzled, and the expression of annoyance on his face reflected it. He couldn't get a note out of it, and yet, he remembered the man who had once played it. The eldest of the adults, he was no longer a hunter. This was without doubt the same flute. The old man had played it beautifully and long. It was just another challenge for Tay-nah, and so far he had met them all. When he did finally manage to get a sound out of it, it was quite by accident. He had decided to gather some fresh greens to go with his supper, and had placed the flute between two rocks in the outer wall of his small house. A gentle wind was blowing, and it startled him to hear a clear note coming from the flute, just from the passage of the breeze. After some weeks, he was at last able to produce enough of a range of notes to work out a tune, and before the snow flew once again, he was fairly adept at playing it.
Now he had two new goals, rather than one. He wanted the flute to produce sounds that were as intricate as some of the bird songs he'd heard, and also he wanted to make a flute of his own, one with perhaps a deeper tone, capable of greater volume. Both were daunting tasks, which was doubtless why he set about them. Within the first two months of winter, Tay-nah had composed a full ten minutes of music that he was able to recall and repeat to perfection. It was hauntingly beautiful and amazingly complex, and would have greatly impressed the old flute's original owner. Tay-nah had set the bar quite high, and he had cleared it. The song was inspired not just by the songs of birds, but also by his companion, the wind. The wind rose and fell and changed in pitch, as did Tay-nah's composition.
But, when spring came, he was still working on beginning to craft the new flute. The bone he wished to use, he simply didn't have. All were either too short or too broad, and he realized it would have to be dry before he could use it. He thought at last about creating a flute from a hollowed branch. Surely one end could be plugged, or he could burn a hole in it from one end. He selected a bit of harder wood and repeatedly set it afire, pushing the burning end repeatedly into the center of a branch. It was in the middle of Tay-nah's thirty-third summer when at last, his own flute was finished. After much experimentation, the result was exactly as he had hoped, larger, deeper and fuller in tone, and he was able to play it with more volume.
Tay-nah began to play a song to the morning sunrise, to the wind when it was blowing, and to the evening sun as it descended in the western sky. He had no idea that his music was beginning to affect the wildlife in his vicinity. Had he been paying attention, he might have noticed that the birds fell silent when he played. But the indication he couldn't ignore, the one that finally got his attention, was the appearance of the wolf.
Commonly Tay-nah had only seen wolves in packs. He knew that a wolf driven off by larger or younger males would be alone, but that hardly seemed likely. The animal he saw standing fifty meters off was not an old animal, and it was the largest wolf he had ever seen. It stood and watched as he played, motionless, the breeze ruffling his light gray, mottled fur. Perhaps he thought Tay-nah might be his meal for today. “Suur-üks! Mida sa tahad?” (Big one! What do you want?) The big wolf simply sat down, still watching Tay-nah. So, Tay-nah began playing to the wolf. He thought of the wolves running, the wind streaming past them as they flew across the meadows in search of game. The notes simply came, a song just for and
8
about the wolves. The big animal remained sitting, watching. So Tay-nah took a step toward it, then another. As always, he had his razor-sharp knife in a leather sheath on his waist, and he had no fear. But before he had advanced ten meters, the head of another wolf appeared from the bushes behind the first, then another. The whole pack might have been there! And of course, it changed everything. Tay-nah felt a chill climbing his spine, and he began to step backwards toward his dwelling. But none of the wolves came forward.
The “dire wolf” of Tay-nah's time was one the megafauna species that would eventually yield to the end of the Pleistocene. They were very large, big-boned and heavily muscled, with extra-large incisors and exceedingly powerful jaws. Tay-nah was talented, intelligent, strong and swift, but he was just a man, now looking squarely at three of them.
For the next few weeks, Tay-nah took extra precautions whenever he ventured out. He was hardly defenseless, but he knew an attack by even one big wolf would be very deadly. The attack of a pack of wolves could not be survived. And each morning the single wolf reappeared and watched him play his flute. Tay-nah was intrigued, and he had to understand why. And so, he began to experiment.
Cautiously scouting the area where the wolves had each appeared, he placed a strip of cured meat a few meters closer to his home than the spot where the big wolf had been. Then he returned to his house. The next morning, he came outside at the break of day, and began to play his flute, as usual, watching for the wolf. He was about to get the surprise of his year.
Tay-nah played, softly at first, then more loudly. He played the song he had composed that was most beautiful, from beginning to end. For a moment, he lost himself, concentrating on the music. And as he finished, he realized he had ceased to watch the area where he had seen the wolf. He looked up for it, but it still wasn't there. Then, to his right, out of the corner of his eye he noticed movement, and quickly turned his attention there. In the soft light of morning, he realized the huge wolf was standing in an entirely new spot, not ten meters away! He was indeed a huge wolf, but he was not snarling, not baring his teeth. The animal was in the open and there were no others about. “Suur-üks. Tere.” ( Big One. Hello.) Tay-nah raised his flute and resumed playing. To his amazement, the big animal sat down.
It was one thing to work each day to live through the next. Tay-nah had accepted his way of life as necessary, even wonderful. But he had always been so very alone since the loss of his people. And here, perhaps, was the possibility of a friend. It mattered little how unlikely it seemed, or that it was probably very dangerous. He had to know. He placed his flute in its spot between the rocks of the wall and went inside to get another strip of meat, carefully closing the door behind him. But when he returned, the big wolf was gone.
It became a game, but each day, man and animal each knew a little more about the other. The wolf watched Tay-nah's movements, his head sometimes tilting to one side. He marveled at the sounds the man made with the instrument. The man marveled at the interest displayed by this big predator, sitting dog-like and listening, apparently at ease. Tay-nah began talking to him regularly. To him, the animal was Suur-üks, and he addressed him as such. The eyes of the wolf were always fixed on him, and they looked so strange, so dangerous. Some days the animal came a little closer, some days he stayed further away.
One day, Tay-nah stopped playing the flute, took a piece of meat he had at the ready, and threw it toward the wolf. The animal seemed surprised, but did not move. After a few moments,
9
he walked over and smelled the gift, then looked up at Tay-nah. Tay-nah watched, but resumed playing. The big wolf picked up the meat, walked a few paces further away and laid down like a domesticated dog, to eat it. Obviously this human creature, the only one of its kind he had ever seen, had no fear of him. It was the beginning of an unlikely friendship that brought man and animal closer together with the passing of each month.
At times, Tay-nah watched the pack from a distance. He quickly realized Suur-üks was the leader of his pack. He was the biggest and the dominant one, and he ruled. Game was plentiful here and the pack did not hunger. And each day until the coldest months, Suur-üks came around to listen to the sounds of the flute, and to receive his gift of smoked meat. In the spring he returned, and the friendship resumed. Suur-üks began to pace along not far from Tay-nah when he went hunting, although he continued to keep a distance between them.
But then, the change came. It was mid-summer, and Tay-nah had ventured out a short distance from his dwelling. He was silently watching a deer from behind a shrub, preparing his atlatl to cast a killing dart. Suur-üks watched with interest. He had seen the man kill before, and he knew what was about to happen. Or at least, he thought he did. Instead, while hunting, Tay-nah had become the hunted. A large lion was on a final approach among the craggy rocks just above him. The sharp eyes of the wolf detected motion before the cat launched, a full fifteen meters through the air to bury razor-sharp claws deep into the exposed back of Tay-nah. When the lion sprang, Suur-üks was already in motion. Lion and wolf collided with tremendous force within centimeters of Tay-nah's back, and they tumbled and rolled, locked in battle. To the great cat, the attack by the wolf was a total surprise. The lion, though young, still outweighed the hundred and forty kilogram wolf two-to-one. Nevertheless the fierceness and force of the assault might have prevailed, but for the supreme agility of the cat. And the cat twisted in air to land in a fighting stance, but could not manage it with the huge fangs of the wolf already deep in its shoulder. Suur-üks' weight and powerful grip forced an uncontrolled landing with the lion on its back. Tay-nah was surprised, but he did not hesitate. The lion was the enemy, not the wolf! He lunged in with his spear, driving with the full weight of his body as he saw his opening. The battle ended quickly, and Tay-nah, gripping the nape of the lion's neck to bury his knife yet again, realized it was over. He dropped the lifeless head to the ground and looked around for the great wolf.
The entire encounter had taken less than fifteen seconds. In that short time, a great cat had been killed, a man's life had been saved by a wolf, and man and wolf had fought a common enemy side-by-side, at last completing a bond that would never be broken.
Suur-üks and Tay-nah regarded one another with the deepest mutual respect, standing then within two meters of one another. Tay-nah reached out a hand, but Suur-üks did not move. He took a step closer to the wolf, and Suur-üks moved to step away, a natural response. Tay-nah realized then that the big wolf had been hurt. Either fangs or claws had injured at least one shoulder. To the leader of a wolf pack, it was sure death, and both of them knew it. Tay-nah could not allow that. He would not.
Hunting was over for the day. The objective now was only to care for Suur-üks, and that would not happen out here in the open. Would it happen at all? Could the big animal walk? With some pain, with some effort, with a limp. Suur-üks could not travel on three legs because both shoulders had been injured, although not so badly on his right.
10
Tay-nah looked the big wolf over from his distance of a meter and a half. Nothing else appeared to be damaged. He sat down so the wolf might also. Suur-üks moved a bit closer and gratefully collapsed to his belly.
Now Tay-nah would try to explain to his friend what he had to do. He told the wolf he would feed him, and bring him water, and give him his bed. Suur-üks could heal, regain his strength and return to his pack to reclaim his leadership. Of course Suur-üks understood not a word of it, and Tay-nah knew it. But the soothing sound of his voice and the gentleness of his words did serve to settle one thing for the big wolf. Tay-nah would not harm him.
At last, Tay-nah slowly rose, all the while speaking softly to the wolf. Then with confidence and a quiet heart, he reached for Suur-üks. The animal did not flinch. Tay-nah gently stroked the huge gray head, and just once, Suur-üks bared his monstrous fangs. Then, he closed his lips. What would be the point? Seeing this, Tay-nah took heart, slid his arms beneath the animal, and with mighty effort, lifted him to chest level. Then, he strode purposefully back to his stone home, leaving his weapons behind him on the ground.
Arriving at his dwelling, Tay-nah gently lowered the big wolf and opened the door, raising it high and propping it. Then, despite throaty objections from his guest, he carefully boosted Suur-üks onto his bed, which was covered with the furry hides of various animals. As he stepped back, Tay-nah made sure to step further inside, rather than to place himself between the wolf and the door. He understood without anyone having to explain it, what a clear path to the outside would mean to the wild animal he had just ventured to bring inside. But inside was necessary, if he was to protect the wolf at night.
Tay-nah had but two pieces of pottery saved from the last encampment of his people. One was a jar used to carry water, the other was a bowl. Now the bowl would belong to Suur-üks. He filled the bowl and placed it before the wolf, and cut some venison jerky that was hanging from the ceiling, placing that before him, too. Then he reached for his flute and began to play, softly.
Perhaps it was because it was so clear that he was being given the finest treatment by the man-creature, perhaps it was because his muscles were stiffening and he would have had trouble getting up to fight. Whatever the reasons, Suur-üks allowed himself to drift off to sleep. Occasionally he would awaken and look around warily, remembering how it was that he was here, in this place. He did not awaken when darkness fell, or when Tay-nah quietly lowered the door for safety. He dreamed of the pack, of the hunt, of the sparkling river, of running through meadows, of the bright days of summer.
The Valley of Death
11
For weeks, Tay-nah stayed at home attending to his friend, the great wolf. It was at once a dependent tenancy and a tenuous dependency. Suur-üks accepted Tay-nah's grateful hospitality because it was necessary. Tay-nah began to wish he'd made his dwelling a bit larger. But the great beast had saved his life. If not for the wolf, his gnawed bones would be food for mice at this moment. So twice a day, he lifted Suur-üks and took him outside to permit him to do his business. It was obvious his wounds were healing, as the big wolf could stand and would take small steps, but it was taking time. Had it taken years, Tay-nah would have been right there to attend to Suur-üks. A few months would not matter.
It had taken but part of the second day of Suur-üks' absence from the pack for the competition for leadership to begin. There would always be a leader, as long as there was more than one wolf. Luckily for Tay-nah, it all occurred out of earshot of their dwelling. And it was not over in a day; it was not over in a week. The battle for supremacy was fierce, the result of each bloody fight, merciless. Wolves were killed, a few were driven off to make their own way. For Suur-üks had been so clearly the most powerful among them, many younger and smaller males had been unwilling to challenge and thus, were tolerated. Eventually, the choice was made and the new leader was established. The pack was now twenty-one adults strong. It had been twenty-six.
It was early that fall before the big wolf could rise, walk and move around at will. Tay-nah had been worried about this stage. Should Suur-üks try to recapture his leadership too soon, all of the effort to keep him alive would have been for naught. Suur-üks' inactivity and partial recovery would have guaranteed it. But either Suur-üks understood that, or he just wasn't ready to leave. He appeared to be settling in, lying beside Tay-nah whether he played his flute, slept, or dressed the game he brought in.
Soon the weather would disallow hunting for several months. It was critical that food be stored, and the smoking of meat went on continuously. As always, predators were drawn to the smell of it. Tay-nah couldn't go out every day because of that, and he became worried that he wouldn't be able to store enough to get the two of them through the winter before the weather changed. Suur-üks puzzled as he watched Tay-nah counting on his fingers and staring outward at the meadow and the sparse trees.
Tay-nah needn't have worried. Within another week, he was surprised to see Suur-üks trotting, and within two, he was able to run. Would he be leaving soon? He didn't have to worry about that yet, either.
Now when he went out to hunt, Suur-üks paced easily at his side, or he led, casting about. At first Tay-nah thought the presence of the big wolf might make it difficult for him to find game. How wrong was that idea! Suur-üks was like an early warning system. When he stopped, there was something to see. Soon man and wolf began to communicate that way. Suur-üks either stopped if game was somewhere ahead, or if it was very close, he would return to Tay-nah's side and sit down. If it was to either side of them, he would turn his body in that direction and stop, looking at Tay-nah. Two things struck Tay-nah about it. First, he couldn't believe how much game he had to have been missing before. Secondly, he couldn't believe the distance from which the wolf could detect the presence of game. The hunt produced good meat every time they went out, all a man could carry. Strings of jerky became the dense new ceiling
12
in the dwelling of Tay-nah. Soon he began work on a building extension, erecting three walls around an additional food storage area. It was always best to have some reserve. The meat smoking fires burned continuously.
Winter arrived, and Tay-nah was at last ready for it. Fuel wood was always as much a priority as food, and stacks of it lined both leeward and windward sides of the dwelling. As with every year, the stones had been re-chinked with riverbank mud. Suur-üks was about to experience the most comfortable winter of his life. The big wolf had never shown any sign of leaving, although he gazed continuously at the meadows and forests when he was outside. Man and wolf bonded even further, as each now felt in some way dependent on the other. It was the epitome of companionship. Still, Tay-nah couldn't quite accept his good fortune. The creature was a wild animal, and he was still young. Perhaps this would only last the winter. He tried to remember that when Suur-üks allowed him to stroke the coarse gray fur of his huge head.
And Tay-nah was right, Suur-üks was young. Sometime in about the middle of winter, he took a hard look at his companion, and was sure the animal had gotten bigger. When he stood, the top of his head was nearly even with the chest of Tay-nah! Surely this had to be the biggest of all wolves! And surely, he was much safer with him than without, something that was especially true when they were out and about.
The winter months passed easily, with the wind howling outside and the two comfortable within. Tay-nah stitched together hides for clothing and played the flute, and both man and beast dreamed of summer, and of the hunt.
Spring arrived earlier than usual, the snow pack diminishing quickly. It was good for all of the species of wildlife in general, especially the wolves. If there is any time they will hunger in a land of plenty, that time is winter. Less than two meters of snow will help them all winter long, and as soon as the snow becomes shallow enough to allow them to run, they will hunger no more.
Tay-nah had built on the far side of the river, away from the last resting place of his people. There was a small plateau of higher ground near his new homesite from which he could see much further, and the hillside also served as a shield from winter wind. Left alone with the task of defending himself against predators, the nearby vantage point had seemed important. And because he had encountered the great bear on the north side of the river, he had considered this side to be preferable for his stone home. Today, it was possible the vantage point would work against him. He and Suur-üks would be able to observe the passage of the wolfpack from there.
With the coming of spring, Tay-nah had faced the facts once again. Although he was mature and settled enough to handle whatever happened, he still dreaded the likely departure of his companion. And in his own way, Suur-üks understood. He too knew his place, although he had come to love this man-creature he now considered to be his own.
Both man and wolf were in for a big surprise, in fact, several of them.
It was also warm for a spring day, and it was early in the afternoon. Ascending the bank of a small plateau to the higher ground, the two of them walked steadily. The wolf could have made the climb at a run in four bounds, but he had learned to move more slowly for the sake of his companion.
13
Upon reaching the plateau, the first surprise was already in view. Tay-nah gasped, and Suur-üks' sharp eyes narrowed.
Tay-nah had not seen a herd of the great mastodon since the summer before the sickness took the rest of his people. He hadn't really thought about the reasons why. They were too large for him to hunt alone, and just one of them would have provided more meat than he could put away before it spoiled, so it hadn't mattered to him. And now, here were six of them, wandering placidly across the valley floor, moving in slowly from the southwest, stopping here and there to consume the tender shoots of shrubs where they were found. Suur-üks was too young to have ever seen one, as were all of the wolves alive in this valley.
The second surprise was less of one, and that was the appearance of the wolfpack. They approached from the southeast and stopped, nosing the air, their heads bobbing and thrusting like pistons. They loped about, casting from side to side, as if in conference. What were these big creatures? The wolves understood quickly that they were prey, and soon all of them would be streaking across the valley floor. Suur-üks lunged and stopped, lunged and stopped. He should be a part of this. But it was not the time to assert his leadership. He might aid in the attack, and then be killed by the pack itself. He knew that at this moment, he was still an outsider. Tay-nah wrapped his fist into the thick fur on the back of his companion. “Ei,” he urged, “ei!” Suur-üks understood that meant “no” and for the moment, he watched, torn, unsure what to do.
The third surprise was just lumbering in from the northeast, right near Tay-nah's plateau. Directly across from the approaching mastodon herd and at a right-angle to the wolves, a big brown bear approached, its reddish-brown coat shining in the spring sun. It hadn't been long out of hibernation, and it was hungry. It wouldn't have taken on a pack of dire wolves to get to the mastodon, but that didn't stop it from being angry about the intrusion and the loss of a chance to satisfy its hunger. Approaching from wooded land, the bear hadn't seen the wolves at first. But now it saw them and heard them, and was not at all happy about their appearance. The bear stopped, reared up on its hind legs and let go with its mightiest roar. It was a huge bear for a brown, probably about four hundred kilograms of it, and it was mad as hell.
The wolves circled up for a moment and stopped, allowing the mastodon to turn and run. The pot had been stirred. They had just resumed the chase when the final surprise appeared, and all hell broke loose.
Sweeping in directly from the north and at more than twice the speed of the running pack of dire wolves came the largest bear Tay-nah had ever seen. This one was no local brown bear, but the feared giant short-faced bear, like the one with which he'd had the scrape in darkness more than twenty years earlier. This was the reason for his stone house, and suddenly he felt that no building could withstand an onslaught like the one that was underway, right before his eyes. He gripped the mane of Suur-üks all the more tightly, both of them at full attention, the big wolf stepping about with this front feet in anticipation. The bear was coming, a freight train of mighty muscle and bone, a huge predator with gigantic head, fangs bared and roaring. The mastodon closest to the big bear fell down while trying to turn too quickly, it's big head bowing with fright. Its full height was about three meters when standing, and the oncoming, long-legged monster predator was very nearly the same height at a full run. The bear would have tipped scales at more than eleven hundred kilograms.
14
But that wasn't all.
Not far behind the galloping bear, came another. This one wasn't as big as the first, as it was a female, no doubt the mate of the one that was rapidly closing on the fallen mastodon. That meant there would be more, and that was very bad news indeed.
To Tay-nah and Suur-üks, it appeared that everything was happening at once. The mighty predator could see that the pack of dire wolves had just reached the fallen mastodon, and that the others of the herd had been spooked ahead of his charge, allowing them to begin an escape to the nearby forest. The mastodon, trying very hard to rise, just knew it was all over for him. The wolves knew they were in serious trouble and could no more than get turned around to run before the monster arrived. There was no option but to stand and fight. The big reddish-brown bear must have thought he was safely away, but he knew there was no food for him here, yet. Maybe after the bigger carnivores had finished and left. He turned to leave. It was too late.
The current terror of the earth was all of three times hell and on fire, and he only paused at the fallen mastodon long enough to swipe four of the wolves away. And that was all it took for each, a swipe. That quickly, the rest of the wolves were running for all they could go from where they had come. Three dire wolves lay dead and one was dying, and the monstrous bear was tearing across the open turf toward the brown. He never touched the mastodon, which had finally regained its footing and had taken a half-step toward the forest. At that moment, the second giant bear turned a shoulder and ran straight into it with full body weight at speed, knocking it flat. Then it was over for the mastodon. The female short-face slashed open the throat and began to feed.
The big brown's position so close to the plateau made the full-bore charge of the monster look more than a little daunting. The man felt the wolf crouch a little, and he knew they should leave and head for the relative safety of the stone hut. If four bounds would have gotten the wolf up the hill to the plateau, then for the short-face, it might have been one. But neither man nor wolf could tear themselves away from the scene.
Of course it was probably useless that the big brown tried to defend itself, and it might seem to be senseless for the short-faced bear to have attacked. But this was how the giant bears had always subsisted. Kill it if it's competition. Kill it if it's not. Then, eat it. And that's what happened, right before the eyes of the astounded man and wolf. The huge brown turned and reared up for battle, but was instantly knocked flat on its back. It never so much as raked claws against his assailant, for it didn't get the chance. The monster completed the kill and began devouring it.
It didn't take the giant short-face long to realize that his mate had the better meal, somewhere behind him. The open meadow where all of it had taken place was less than half a kilometer square, and she was feeding just past the center of it, from the north. He turned and ambled back to join her. As he approached the fallen mastodon, Tay-nah learned just how vicious was the species. The smaller female attacked the male, raking him with her claws, snapping at him with her fangs. He sullenly stood back, sniffing and pushing around the bodies of the dead wolves, until she was done. Then as she moved away, he went in to finish satisfying his hunger.
Above the scene on the plateau, man and wolf turned their heads and looked at one another.
15
The Plan
Tay-nah and Suur-üks had returned to their stone dwelling and had closed the door snugly, barring it from inside. Of course, they couldn't stay there. Tay-nah had taken care to cautiously fill the water jar, as well as the skin that he took along whenever he'd gone hunting. He'd brought in extra armloads of wood, and they had plenty of food. But with predators like that in the valley, it seemed unlikely he would remain safe long enough to see his thirty-fifth summer. He would have to hunt to survive, and the water would only last a day or two. Man and wolf watched the fire, and Tay-nah thought.
He considered that his people had moved into this valley while knowing of the presence of such beasts at that time. The thought sparked two emotions in him, respect, and hope. The respect for his people had always been there, but it was elevated a few levels that day. Such bravery! Even if it may have been a bit foolish. Perhaps this beast was bigger and more ferocious than anything his people had seen. The hope came from the fact that at least one of the beasts had been here when he was but a boy, and he hadn't seen another for more than two decades. Perhaps they moved with the mastodon as had his people, and the arrival of the small herd was the reason they were here now. But, surely, as voracious as the creatures seemed to be, it wouldn't be long before the few mastodon that were here would be gone as well. Would the short-faced bears move on, in search of other mastodon herds? Or would the demise of the remaining few mastodons simply make it impossible for the other species that lived here, to survive in this place? Either was possible, but the presence of a breeding pair of the giant bears made the second possibility seem more likely.
The two spent the rest of the day and that night indoors, each grateful for the company of the other. Tay-nah already knew he wouldn't be relocating. The invading predators moved as well, and they moved much faster. It was as safe here as anywhere, unless he moved a great distance. This valley wasn't just Tay-nah's home, it was also home to Suur-üks. Things in this wilderness, in any wilderness, have a way of working themselves out. In their own way, each of the occupants of the stone dwelling knew and appreciated the fact. They both slept soundly.
The coming of a new day brought new hope with it. Tay-nah resolved to go about business as normally as possible, venturing out to refill his water jar and to see what he could see. When he and Suur-üks climbed the bank to the plateau, there were no new surprises. The wolf-pack had gathered at the remains of the big brown bear and were eating voraciously. The animal hadn't been half-eaten, and there was a lot of meat there for them. Tay-nah shushed Suur-üks, and hoped it would be enough to keep him quiet. The big wolf stood and watched. He hadn't known hunger for quite some time.
The mighty roar they all heard from a distance probably meant the kill of another of the mastodons was underway. All of the wolves stopped and gazed across the meadow, as the sound had come from the forest on the far side of it. If the bears limited themselves to one kill a day, that could mean they might have another five days before the giant beasts came looking for something else to eat. Then again, they might not.
16
Tay-nah noted the absence of bird songs, something he might have expected to hear this time of year. There was a new tentative air everywhere about them, and the birds were aware of it. The vultures, busy in the meadow where the mastodon had fallen the day before, were the few that didn't seem to mind.
Remembering the discussions around the council fires of long ago, Tay-nah recalled the several conversations about these creatures. Some had believed they could be killed by digging a pit and covering it. The roof over the pit would be at ground level, the approach to it left clear. The vicious bears were unafraid to move about in the open and would take the easiest path. The great weight of the bears would collapse the man-made ceiling, dropping the bear to its death upon sharpened stakes. Some thought it would work as it had with ordinary bears, but others dismissed it. They had no means of digging such a deep hole in this rocky ground. If they did and a bear fell into it, what about a second bear? And yet, no one had any better ideas. If the plan meant moving the village to a place where a trap could be dug, they would do it. That was the conclusion reached right before the winter when disease struck, and took them all.
Today, Tay-nah could see another flaw in the plan. If the bear ran as he'd seen it run, it would be over the trap before it collapsed. Any other means he could imagine had no chance of working. He and Suur-üks together would never be able to fend off an attack by the wolfpack, and the wolfpack was no match for a giant bear. Avoidance was his only hope of survival, until the bears decided to leave.
Thus a new idea sprang forth in the desperately crafty imagination of Tay-nah. It was one that his people would have dismissed, of that he felt sure. If the giant bears were here following the mastodon, perhaps the way to move the predator was to move the prey. If it was possible, he had but a day or two to accomplish it. The idea would be to drive the great beasts through the gap in the mountains and into the next valley. If the giant bears would kill the other species after the mastodons, at least it would take some time until the game was depleted there. It might give him time to think of something else. The forest where he'd heard the roar today was upriver. He would prepare today, and set out tomorrow. That was his plan. But like the brown bear that had meant to defend itself, he wouldn't get the chance to try.
My Father's Spear
The new morning was as beautiful a morning as Tay-nah had ever seen. It was all the sweeter because he expected it would probably be his last. If he would be trying to move the great mastodons through the gap, there was also an excellent chance he would be killed by the great bears instead. He decided to leave without his usual complement of food and water. The less he took with him, the faster he could move.
Suur-üks watched Tay-nah quizzically as he made his final preparations to leave. Surely the man wasn't going to go on a hunt today. He had laid all of his weapons out on the bed, something he'd never done before. Then he had put his knife on his belt like always, and had
17
placed all three of his spears in the open doorway. And strangely, he hadn't bothered to put the other weapons away.
Tay-nah picked up his best spear, taking it from its place against the doorway and held it out to show to his companion. “Suur-üks. Oda minu isa,” he explained. (My father's spear.) It was the same spear he had held at the doorway to the hut for protection, when he first found himself alone. It was his pride to own, and with it, he had killed more game than with the others together. It was the spear that had visited death on the lion that had meant to kill them both. Today, it might pierce the thick hide of a great bear, if only to at last inflict some pain on an animal that had never known any. If he was successful, it would prod the posteriors of some even bigger animals in an effort to move them. But he expected even that task would be far less difficult than the one he was about to handle.
Beckoning to Suur-üks, Tay-nah walked toward the plateau. The big wolf followed willingly as Tay-nah broke into a run. The two of them bounded up the hillside and onto the flat top overlooking the big meadow. Again, Suur-üks looked at his companion quizzically. He knew something was different.
As Tay-nah had dared to hope, it was the right time. Wolves were visible in the meadow below, moving toward them, pacing their way along as a group. There would never be a better time. There might never be another chance. Here was a guarantee of continued life for his companion. Suur-üks was once again as strong as he'd ever been, and was obviously even larger than when he'd been injured. He would surely re-take his place of leadership. Tay-nah knelt. The big animal was so high at the shoulder, he had to reach upward from his kneeling position to wrap his long arms around the wolf's neck. It was something he'd never done before, and suddenly Suur-üks understood. This was good-bye. Tay-nah, still kneeling, pointed outward at the wolfpack. “Minema!” (Go!)
Suur-üks nearly bolted, but the bond was too strong for that. He truly wanted to rejoin the pack. But he did not, did not want to leave the man. He looked at the wolfpack, he looked at Tay-nah, then back at the wolfpack. He exclaimed, like a huge dog that didn't want to be given a bath. Tay-nah stood up, and instantly, the big wolf rose up on hind legs and put his paws on Tay-nah's shoulders. Tay-nah smiled, laughed and stroked the furry head of his great companion. Then he told him again. “Minema.”
Suur-üks went, and he didn't look back. Down over the bank he bounded, on his way back to the life he'd once known.
Tay-nah didn't look after him. He wiped away a single tear and headed slowly back to collect his spears. Then he would be on his way.
Only moments after Tay-nah stepped from the hillside onto level ground, his blood curdled at the sound of the oncoming roar of the great bear, shaking the branches of trees around him. No doubt about it, the roar was coming right toward him, and that meant, so was the bear! The obvious choice was to get into the hut and close the door. He could manage that. In half a dozen bounds he was at the door, picking up the spears from the doorway, preparing to dive inside. He wouldn't be putting them all down. Not here, and not yet!
He could see about a hundred meters through the small trees, past the base of the plateau toward the meadow. There before him was the single thing he had not expected! Suur-üks! The big wolf was flattened out running, his ears back, flying as fast as his powerful legs could carry
18
him, but quickly closing the gap between them, was the bigger of the two giant bears! Suur-üks was without doubt faster than any of the other wolves, but Tay-nah could see it wouldn't be fast enough. Suur-üks would not make it.
Tay-nah did not hesitate for even a split-second. Bellowing at the top of his lungs and finishing in a scream, Tay-nah lept forward with two of his spears, one in each clenched fist, certain of death and determined to draw blood on his way to it!
Never in the history of man had any man experienced the rush of adrenaline that Tay-nah now received. The primal drive to kill was backed up by more brute strength than any man had ever been given. And Tay-nah ran, as fast as he could move, straight toward the great bear, without a scrap of fear or any notion at all of consequence. The objective was to meet the monster on its own terms, and to drive his father's spear deep into it! Anywhere, as long as it was deep. Denied the blood of the beast by the swipe of a paw? Ha! Not today!
The monster was so intent on flattening the puny wolf in front of him that he never noticed the man running toward him. Suur-üks did, and that meant the game had changed. He had been as sure as was the man that he would meet death, and all that was left to do was to bolt. But the sight of Tay-nah running to his aid was the sure signal that there would first be a fight. The beast could kill Suur-üks but could not be allowed to kill the man, and he would not just run any more. Just as Tay-nah was about to reach his side, he whirled and bared his huge fangs, ready to kill!
The beast had been a half-step away from treading on the wolf, certain death for him. The sudden whirl spun the wolf to one side, and the great paw came down barely missing the head of Suur-üks. In a flash the bear skidded to a stop, only then noticing the man that had just arrived and that was now running beneath his great chest.
As he reached the bear, Tay-nah tossed a spear aside and roared again, brought up from the bottoms of his pounding feet and bellowing forth, surprising the huge animal. Gripping his father's spear in both powerful hands, he ran beneath the chest of the bear to deliver it with all of his might. The bear had no idea what had just come underneath him, and he didn't want it there. His posterior was nearly on the ground because of the sudden stop, his big chest high off of the ground, and he suddenly felt pain. The wolf was ripping at his lower foreleg, something was tearing at his rear, and whatever was beneath him was making a terrible sound that he'd never in his life heard before...he had to get up, get his backside off the ground and kill these puny things! With a mighty and terrible roar, the great bear stood up!
For just a moment, time stood still. In that moment, only two things moved. The spear that had already entered the chest of the great bear had struck bone, and Tay-nah had been unable to drive it home. But the rising of the great bear's posterior had lowered his chest as well. It had pinned the spear to the earth, and the earth did not move out of the way, nor did the hardened shaft of the spear buckle and break. Instead, the razor-sharp spearhead of chert slipped past the bone and went precisely where Tay-nah had endeavored to put it. Time began to move once again, and Tay-nah, still beneath the bear and seeing the spear had gone further, gripped it with both hands and boosted it upward with all of his considerable strength, twisting the shaft as it rose. That mighty shove drove his father's spear clear through the great bear's gigantic heart, ripping a hole as broad as the spear point.
So complete was the surprise of the monster that now, roaring even more loudly in a
19
higher pitch, it stood on both hind legs and reached for the sky, meaning to shed whatever had penetrated its chest. But as it had been for the big brown bear, it was too late. The huge claws reached a height of more than seven meters.
When the great front legs of the bear came up, Suur-üks was tossed aside like a gnawed bone. Tay-nah lunged to get clear, and in a single move, rolled and picked up the second spear, waiting for the beast to come down so he could deliver that one as well. At that moment he saw the entire wolfpack, now gathered behind the great bear. Now he was faced with yet another threat to his life, or so he thought. But the wolves scarcely mattered, for the moment. As the great bear thundered to the rocky surface, Tay-nah followed up with a powerful, leaping, hands-on driving thrust of the spear into the neck of the bear, just behind the head. Suur-üks had gathered himself up and had nearly gotten too close before the bear dropped, and now was ripping into the bear's neck from the other side, tearing away the thick fur in the quest for blood. The big wolf's body bounced with the trembling of the bear's death throes. Tay-nah extracted the spear from the great neck and took a harder look at the pack of wolves. None were advancing.
And so, Tay-nah, now in his glory and still flush with adrenalin, raised the spear high with both arms straightened, and bellowed their victory to the sky. Suur-üks saw, heard and agreed, bringing up his deep, throaty howl from the bottom of his dire wolf heart. The roar of the man and the howl of the great wolf were immediately joined by the entire wolfpack. A sight and sound like this one had never before been seen or heard by anyone anywhere, and never would be again.
What Tay-nah didn't know and would never know, was what had happened before the bear appeared so close to his home. Suur-üks had immediately reached the pack, and the wolves had stopped. Pleasantries were being exchanged in classic dire wolf style, a nose or two had met, and others of the wolves had snarled their objections. No doubt a fight was coming up, one that Suur-üks would surely win, and all of them knew it. But just then, the bear had come charging out of the trees where it had been waiting for the pack to reach him. The great carnivore felt like a snack, and had ventured away from his cranky mate for a while. Suur-üks immediately gave everything for the pack, just as he would have done as its leader a year earlier. He ran toward the big bear and then circled in front of it to draw it away. The bear decided to crush the audacious wolf, and bore down on it to kill. Suur-üks headed for home, because the stone dwelling was the only place he knew of that might be safe. In truth he had hoped his speed would be enough to outdistance the monster, but that was not possible. The pack had come running along behind, stupidly thinking that satisfying their curiosity was more important than accepting the gift of life their true leader had offered them. This time, it had worked out.
Perhaps if their highly intelligent leader had remained with the pack, there would be dire wolves in the wilds of North America today. But he didn't, and there aren't. Because the choice was now clear. If Suur-üks didn't stay with Tay-nah and take care of him, who would? The poor senseless man could walk right past a big jackrabbit, and never catch the scent!
Tay-nah, who was no longer twenty summers old, would pay for his greatest of all exertions the next day. Every muscle in his body ached, and soon, the unbelievably huge body of the great bear would begin to smell like what it was - an unbelievably huge carcass. The
20
work required to cut up and to move that carcass was just about dead-even with the effort required to pack up and move, and to build a home somewhere else. Tay-nah decided to stay, but during the course of the job, he nearly changed his mind several times. Recovering his father's spear was the deciding factor.
The valley never again saw the female short-face. She had heard the shrieking death-roar of her mate, and decided it wasn't something she wanted to investigate. His failure to return to her was proof enough of his demise. Anything powerful enough to kill him would surely do the same to her. She waited in the forest for a day, then moved westward in search of more food, and a new mate.
Noting that he wasn't getting any younger, Tay-nah decided it would be a good thing to re-visit the graves of his people. There would be no one around to bury him properly when he died, that was true. Just the same, if they were watching him from somewhere, he didn't want them to think he didn't remember, or care about them.
So later that year, Tay-nah called to Suur-üks, and they crossed the river together through the shallows. They did so each fall after that, on the day of the first snow. They walked to the stone mounds, Tay-nah added a few more rocks to each, and then built a small fire among them. Then he played his best music as respectful homage, a full ten minutes of it.
Suur-üks and Tay-nah enjoyed a companionship unlike any that had come before or has ever occurred since. Neither was the master; neither was the pet. And in ways that could never be fully understood or appreciated by most modern humans, they were one with the earth, living and savoring each day in anticipation of the next. Fearlessly they went where and when they pleased, seeking adventure and finding it, in daylight and by the light of the moon, always together. Tay-nah sensed the turning of the planet and marveled at the apparent movement of the heavens beyond. From time to time, his companion raised his mighty voice in recognition of his heritage and proclaimed it, his counterparts replying with respectful hellos from elsewhere in the great valley. To the pair, this, in fact, was heaven.
When Tay-nah had seen his forty-sixth summer, he was older than most of his ancestors had ever lived to be. And Suur-üks at that point in his life was quite elderly, having outlived every one of his ancestors. The mighty wolf at last quietly passed away in his sleep. Tay-nah didn't grieve, because in his heart of hearts, he knew that leaving this life was not the end. His mother had told him that, and his mother knew these things. So he put his flute in its place between the rocks of the outer wall, laid down beside his beloved companion and drifted off to sleep. Sometime during that very night, his spirit found the spirit of Suur-üks, and the two bounded off across the meadows together, once again.
Outside, the breeze lifted and the wooden flute sounded, the notes rising and falling in the swirling, varying flow of the oncoming air. From the next world, Tay-nah listened, and he smiled. On laul tuul.
The Song of the Wind.
*********
copyright 2013/2023 Benjamin Trayne