He camped beside the copse of low trees for a few days while he sought good wood for spears. His attempt to clean and cure the first rabbit skin hadn't gone too well, but he had learned enough from the experiment to salvage something from his next kill. Small animals and birds abounded in this place. With a spear or two he might have some hope of obtaining a larger hide that he could use for shelter. He couldn't expect to find a handy ledge every time it rained, and covering himself with grass at night was a poor expedient even in dry weather.
The good supply of fresh meat renewed his strength, heated his body, and gave him more energy to work. He cut two likely spears from the center of the thicket, wading through ice-cold water to get them. His knife concerned him. A hand-axe would have served better to cut the young trees, but he managed it without dulling his only blade. Soon he would have to look for flint.
He had little choice for wood in this area. The finished spears would be light and too short, mere boys' weapons. It was better than having none at all. He hefted one in his hand after he had shaped the end and peeled off the bark. The sap-slick wood slipped from his grasp and fell to the ground, point down. It stuck there, wobbling. He shook his head and made the ha-ha sound. Poor, puny spear, and how would he get close enough to an animal to kill it anyway?
It took more than one man even to cut an old, sick animal from a herd and harry it to exhaustion. Driving a herd toward a pit trap or a cliff was a group effort too, though a lone man armed with fire might attempt it. Well, he had spears. Ursus would provide--as long as he had his sling, at least he would eat.
When his spears were ready, points fire-hardened and sharp and shafts as straight and smooth as posible, he moved on.
The sky threatened rain again and now a river barred his way. Durc decided to look for a sheltered place to camp. He sought an undercut bank along the river, keeping an eye out for flint among the stones near its edge. The river was deep, running fast between high banks, and as he continued upstream the banks grew steeper. That did not bode well for crossing. Perhaps he should turn around. He could swim across more easily where the water ran slower, even if he found no ford.
He needed to set up camp soon, whether or not he found good shelter. The sky had turned a dense grey. With a sigh, he continued around one more bend. In one hand he carried his fire receptacle; the other steadied his spears over one shoulder. A fish hung from one of the spears.
As it turned out, the river made a double bend here. He found a reasonably good undercut, dry and well above the present water level as well as the middle ground where early spring floods had deposited a generous supply of firewood--and other things. Several partial horse skeletons mingled with tangled brush just out of the water. The bones had been picked clean by scavengers, and were ready to make into tools or use as they were.
Durc used a horse's leg bone and shoulder blade to excavate a sort of hearth and a level place to sit by it. When the storm broke, he sat comfortably in his dry niche dining on steaming-hot fish. If only he had a hide! His wrap and foot coverings and two poorly cured rabbit skins were all the leather he had. He couldn't even make a pouch without a thong, and if he started cutting the edges off his wrap for thongs...
Ursus would provide, Grey Wolf would guide. Durc set aside his cares and slept in short, watchful bursts, waking often to keep his modest fire fed.
His watchfulness increased as the river's rushing sound grew. The water sounded closer, louder. Rain poured constantly. Sky spirits stabbed the air with their burning spears and thunder crashed. One loud rolling crash shook the ground. A sudden spate of water broke through the overhanging strata perilously close to Durc's fire. It spattered the small hearth, producing a hissing cloud of steam. He grimaced and added more wood, thankful that no water came through where he had put his diminishing fuel supply.
The storm abated at sunrise, though it was hard to tell at first that the day had begun. But Durc's rude shelter faced northeast, and before long a ray of light shot through to illuminate it.
Ursus! What a changed scene met his eyes. A large section of the bank on the opposite side had caved in. The river, temporarily balked by the partial blockage, had swept away much of the remaining debris on his side. But on the upstream side of the fallen rocks and earth lay several dead reindeer. If he could get to them, he would have hides enough.
He needed to cross anyway. Durc stood at the edge of the river contemplating the rushing water. It wasn't that far across, this was not a big river. The landslide had nearly dammed it, making a wider, deeper, but slower moving reservoir that he might be able to swim across. He had made a bundle of his belongings in his wrap; everything but his amulet, which still hung from his neck, and of course his spears, which were thrust through the tied-up top of the package. If it didn't get waterlogged too fast, he shouldn't have too much trouble with it. With one last reassuring touch to his amulet, he waded into the cold water.
Durc's method of swimming was basically running in the water, or trying to. His leg movement did little to propel him forward. The river was not all that deep, however, and most of the way he could push against a rock here and there. He pushed with his one free arm too.
The current dragged him downstream too fast. He knew too late that he should have allowed for it. He thrashed harder, banging his toes painfully on a boulder. Pain only increased his determined effort. His bundle tugged harder at his arm as it sank lower in the water, but he dared not let go. Without his knife, he would be helpless until he found a flakable stone. He strove against the water, sacrificing ground in his battle to get across in order to maintain his position in the current.
Barely in time he fought his way out of the main current and encountered unexpected help in the form of an eddy that he had not seen from the other side. The water no longer opposed him, but gently wafted him to shore. He was breathing hard, though, when he climbed out onto a great, flat slab of rock. He was cold too, but work would warm him.
He spread his things on the stone to dry, all but his knife and spears. Knowing that he would not be the only scavenger to desire the flood-borne carcasses, he set the spears within easy reach. His sling had gotten soaked; it would need some care to recondition it.
The three reindeer were stiff, but not yet bloated. Their hides seemed undamaged for the most part. He did a clumsy job of skinning them by normal standards, but speed mattered more than perfection. Already birds circled, and hyenas would scent the carrion more readily now that he had exposed the meat. He sniffed it, considering taking some along, but he wasn't that desperate. The hides would suffice. He knew he should have the brains too. Hurry, he told himself.
He rolled the first hide and laid it by his drying clothing. His foot-wraps had partly dried already; he gave them a quick shake and pull, then did the same for his sling. He decided to hang that around his neck for now. It would be safer in case one of the carrion crows that now hung about thought it looked interesting. An alarming sound came from above--the whoop of a hyena. Durc hastened back to his work.
Before he had more than begun on the second reindeer, they appeared at the top of the landslide. Durc set his knife down carefully and took a spear in his hands.
With a cacophony of hideous cackles, four hyenas confronted him. Man and animal glared balefully at one another. Fire would have more than equalized their status, but all that was left of his fire was ashes on the other side of the river. It had been impossible to maintain a living coal in the crossing, and in the damp morning he would still be trying to start one instead of one-third finished. Durc bared his teeth at the stinking animals and brandished his spear.
Perhaps they had encountered humans before, or were perturbed by the scent of his late fire. At any rate, the hyenas hesitated. Durc made menacing spear-thrusts at them and a vocal threat as well.
"Hu-u-u-unhh!" he cried. "Hu-u-uh! Hah! NGah!" He shifted the spear to his left hand and picked up a stone, hurling it at the nearest beast. At this range, his throw was as accurate as with the sling, though not as hard. The rock bounced off the hyena's head.
The startled animal yelped in pain and backed off a step, shaking its head. The other three joined it in a chorus of eerie chortles. Durc threw another stone and another, with some hits and some misses. The hyenas backed out of range and waited. It was a standoff.
With his eyes mostly on the skulking scavengers, Durc loosened his sling from around his neck. He tucked his spear between arm and body in order to work the cup into proper softness and form. It hadn't suffered much from the wetting. He saw some right-size stones not far away. Carefully, he edged in that direction and picked up one. The hyenas shifted their positions too. He yelled at them again, and they whooped back. Then he let fly at the foremost one. His sling-stone hit the hyena's jaw, and it spun away with a whoop, shaking its head, blood spraying from its mouth where the stone had cut its lips and broken several teeth. All four hyenas raised a wild clamor. Durc gave an exultant shout.
Abruptly the farthest of the hyenas leaped in the air and came down kicking. Durc glimpsed something sticking out of it. He watched in amazement as another hyena went down, and strange voices shouted from beyond the slope. The remaining two hyenas loped away out of sight. A shivery feeling ran over Durc's back at the human-like cry from above: "Halloooo!"
In another moment, several round, bobbing heads appeared against the sky and the bodies of men that they belonged to. They were not Clan.
Durc gaped at the men of the Others, as he assumed they must be. They stared back at him, making nearly as much noise as the hyenas. He watched as they seemed to have a conversation of sorts--though their gestures, if you could call them that, were gross and meaningless. They made a lot of childishly emotional facial gestures. Mostly, they made their strange hyena-gabble.
One of them seemed particularly angry, if his face and body spoke true. But another put his hands up and the angry one obediently lowered his spear. With one last puzzling scowl at Durc, the leader made a few gruff noises and the group left as suddenly as they had come.
Durc stood for some time gazing at the space where they had stood. The two dead hyenas lay there. He had seen the men remove spears from them. He had seen one of the spears fly through the air to kill a hyena, he was sure of that.
He had also seen one of them make a fearful grimace--and then the man had ha-ha-ed.
His hand crept up to his amulet. "Spirit of Grey Wolf, Spirit of Ursus, this man is grateful..." for exactly what, he still had to find the thoughts and words.