I looked around at the sorry lot of men crumpled on the floor and it reminded me of a much more savage time in the world. That would be a good tale for hunters to hear.
Long ago the world was a colder place. Winters lasted half the year, snow coated even the southlands that now are deserts for months. The beasts of the time were massive towering five men high, with pelts of such thick fur that a whole village could wear their woven pelts. In those days a village lived around a pair of the massive mammoths and would harvest what they shed, would groom and follow them to feeding ground after feeding ground.
However these beasts were prey to the packs that stalked the land. The men of the village would have to hunt daily to keep the primordial creatures of claw and fang. The most advanced weapon of the time was the spear. Stones would be sharpened to a razor’s edge and fixed upon the heads of the spears with sinew and sap.
Women would be praised for their plumpness, for they were the heartiest of their kind. Hair grew long and beards bushy. Each tribe seemed distinct in the color of their people. What stayed constant were their Home Mammoths. The children of the mammoths were praised like gods come upon this earth. Great tribes of people would meet once a year and see if the creatures would bond to one another. If so they would cut a third of each of their tribes out to follow the new pair. To keep them safe and for them to grow strong. This tale is of one such tribe, whose mammoths were young.
Goretuck fought for dominance in the wrestling competition with his rival for leadership known as Wooltaker. Their powerful muscles locked and matched in strength as each fought for better footing in the long frozen ground. Each lowered to a knee and fought to lift the other from the ground as their feet slid back and forth.
Wooltaker let loose a mighty headbutt but matched against the stone like skull of Goretuck it was like slamming flint together for fire. Each felt their skin tear and blood begin to flow before shortly freezing, a drop hit Wooltaker’s eyes and he flinched back. Goretuck took that moment to haul the man off his feet and hold him above his head with a victorious cry. His arms shook against the weight but the new clan clapped and hooted wordlessly. The two young mammoths let out great trumpeting calls.
Goretuck set Wooltaker down and they hugged tightly, pounding each other’s backs. A step away and they snatched their stone tipped spears and signaled the last moment of the challenge. The leader had been chosen. Women flooded forward and dabbed thick stinking clay against the cuts on their foreheads and whispered words to ward off Terus.
Small carved ivory runes swayed against everyone’s neck to show both their home clan and the newly formed one they all were sent to join. Everyone went about pressing foreheads together as a sign of trust and togetherness. Their languages were subtly different and it would take some time for everyone to truly understand each other.
The men raised their spears and formed a wide protective ring around the people. They were now the Goretuck clan.
The mammoths let out their cries and started the long walk they would take. The beast’s abilities to find warm places full of food was how the people of the world survived. The women clustered around them and stroked them lovingly as they moved. A strong bond was needed so they wouldn’t wander off from the tribe in the night.
Goretuck was leading them all as he read the body language of their lifelines the mammoths. The line of the sun would grow closer to the center of the skies. The nights were long and men were constantly on watch for the Stalkers. Creatures with four powerful front legs with knife-like claws and teeth that could cut stone. Their hides were as white as the constant snow but their eyes gave them away. Those amber orbs shining in the firelight. The first morning of the clan arrived. Two of the ember keepers collected the second most important things in the clan's life, fire. The thick unburning wood baskets clutched around the embers to keep them safe from the winds. Constantly they would open and feed dried twigs and grasses to keep the heat alive.
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Stomachs began to rumble and a hunt was called. Goretuck and four other of the greatest hunters stalked out into the snows in a long line. Soon though they turned around, signs of the Stalkers were following the tribe. With short warnings the word had spread through the clan.
The first stop came as food grew dangerously low.
Women went about digging in the areas that would have kept buried pemmican safe from the world’s creatures. It was handed out as the mammoths settled into stripping the foliage of what they could. The warm spring of water was drank from and offered to the mammoths. Bundled handfuls of spare pemmican was given to the creatures to keep them fueled.
The Stalkers came that night. A wordless call awoke the warriors and the battle was fierce. It took three men to handle one Stalker and those that made it through faced Goretuck. His spear thrust was said to shatter boulders as he danced around the beasts protecting them as they trampled the wounded Stalkers finishing them off. It was a balance of true skill to fight so close to a mammoth and not be killed by either side. Eight of the corpses were there in the morning sun. Two clansmen had fallen. They were stripped and carried into the snow to feed the other lives in the world.
Stalkers were muscled and had deep stores of fat inside their bodies. The women went about stripping and cleaning the creatures. Their wordless working songs soothed those shaken by battle and the beasts. The hearts were set aside to be spit and roasted for the warriors. Guts were cleaned and tightened out into long strips. Stomachs and bladders were washed and sewn into skins to carry water through the lands. The bones that could be carved were set aside to make new runes for the children that would come with spring. Great amounts of pemmican were made. Half was buried for the next clan, the other stored in the makeshift slings used to carry things. The mammoths grew restless and they called to be moved so the clan hurried to follow them. The women bound to the men that died sang their weeping songs and called to Terus to guide the dead to the eternal hunt.
Goretuck lay with his women when it was his turn to rest. The young men trained with him and he burdened their slings with stones when they grew light. More smaller packs of Stalkers came for the young mammoths and were fought off. Sometimes they left a corpse to be harvested but the creatures ate their own dead.
Goretuck began to tell the story of the Night of Eight Stalkers. He painted the fallen men as heroes who gave their lives to save the clan. The air grew warm and the shed began. The hair was brushed from the beasts and woven into sturdy ropes to be used. The sun was overhead when the break in constant snowfall came. The lands grew warm and the beasts grew ready for their first mating. The women were showing signs of babes to come and a home was constructed.
Bones of long dead mammoths dotted the land. A great longhouse of bones was put together with extra hide strung across it all. Furs were shed and the men fought and wrestled. Small animals were trapped and hunted. Women stroked their bellies and sang the song of warning. Of the coming snows and how they would have to be silent at night. The mammoths bonded close and mated for their first time. It would not bear children for they were still young. If it did it would be two winters before they would birth.
As the grounds were free and plants grew vibrant and strong the women gave birth. Some died in the process and men mourned, women took the motherless upon their own breasts and carried the burden without words. Goretuck sang and told stories of their first winter. Of the battles with stalkers and the clash between chiefs. He was challenged a handful of times by those that thought themselves ready and won each battle.
He would lead another year. Some babes did not make it to winter. As the snow began the clan sang the song of loss and growth. Fourteen babes survived and had the chance to thrive through winter. Food was bountiful and the mammoths fully bonded to the people. Another long year awaited.
The men that recovered listened rapt in attention and nodded to one another at the tale of ancient hunters and beasts. Of times simpler and more dangerous.
The barkeep nodded at me and motioned me to join him at the bar. ‘Ya tell a fine story. These men won’t be loose with their coins after ye laid the hurt on them.’ He placed a simple fur upon the counter. ‘Ya come each night this week and stop any fights that break out and I’ll give ya a pence worth of pelts to trade. Ya help shovel the piss and vomit tonight though. Since you done judged my beer.’
I nodded and got to work.