The Gathering was very eventful, full of competitions, stories, hunts, and festivals; old friendships were renewed, and now the clans were on their way home. Years ago, after the earthquake that changed the clan’s lives, Broud found a new cave for the clan across the salt marshes, several days’ journey from the ruined cave. Though not as good in physical location as their old home, the new cave was much larger, with several other smaller caves catacombing into the mountainside.

Oga and Uba were introduced to Ura, Durc’s arranged mate, soon after they arrived at the Gathering. Although Ebra, Broud’s mother and mate to the old leader Brun, would be mother to the newcomer until she was old enough to mate Durc, she had been unable to attend the Gathering that year. She was waiting for her family back at the cave.

Uba had been looking forward to meeting the girl after so many years. Remembering the promise Ura’s mother, Oda, made to them seven years ago, Uba wondered what the child would be like. What was she like? Would she look like Durc?

As Uba, carrying her five-month-old daughter Vada, and Oga walked toward the shelter of the clan with whom Ura lived, Uba was trembling with anticipation. Oga sat down in front of Oman, leader of Ura’s clan, her head bowed respectfully. When he tapped her shoulder, she spoke, using the silent formal language of the Clan.

“This woman is looking for Ura, daughter of Oda. This woman is to take her to meet her new clan; she is to come live with us, far to the west, after the Gathering is over,” she said, not looking directly at him. “The child is to mate a boy of our clan.”

Oman grunted and turned toward a woman, motioning to her. The woman nodded her head and scurried away to do his bidding. Uba and Oga waited patiently until the woman returned with a strange-looking girl trailing behind her. That must be her! Uba thought excitedly. The girl looked afraid; as well she should. I couldn’t imagine leaving my family, she thought, clutching Vada to her breast. The disturbing thought triggered a memory of her only sister, Durc’s mother, when she was forced to leave the clan. Oga stood up and spoke to the woman. “This woman is grateful to your clan for keeping this girl with you for so long. This woman will bring her back tonight, when the sun sets.” Ura looked at Uba with brown eyes full of anguish. Uba beckoned to the girl, and followed Oga away from the low shelter.

“How will she understand us?” Uba asked Oga. “Their dialect is so different from ours. I can hardly understand them!”

Oga looked at Uba, then at Ura. “She will have to learn to talk all over again. Until then, we can speak the formal language.” She looked at Ura encouragingly. “You are welcome with us.” Ura looked relieved. She must understand us better than we understand her, Uba thought.

Durc, at seven, was beginning to show a shy interest in the opposite sex, and Ura, to him, was beautiful. She reminded him of his mother, his beautiful mother with golden hair and eyes the color of the sky, whom he lost at such a tender age. Ura looked vaguely like his mother; her hair was a lighter brown than his clan, and it had lightened in the summer sun so that it glinted with golden highlights. She was tall, too, which pleased Durc. All the women in his clan were much shorter that he was.

Over the years, under Uba’s loving care, Durc had grown into a fine young man. Childish precociousness was gently directed toward learning skills he would need as an adult. Verging on manhood, he wanted to learn everything he could about hunting. He practiced hard at every weapon, especially the sling, knowing the sling was the weapon his beloved mother had used. Over the years, Uba had told him many stories about Ayla, so many that he had no problem remembering what she looked like or how she behaved. Uba told many fascinating stories about his mother! Uba had also repeatedly warned him about Broud. Knowing the animosity Broud had toward Ayla and her son, Uba sought to protect the orphaned boy and would continue to do so until she couldn’t any longer.

During the rest of the Gathering and the trek home, Durc and Ura became more acquainted as he helped her learn his language. A true friendship began to form between them. She seemed to see things the way he did, and they had some things in common besides their “deformities.” Like Durc, Ura lost her mother at a young age. Oda had died soon after giving birth to a son, the son her mate, Zord, wanted so much. The boy survived, and they were both given to another woman who had recently borne a healthy baby girl. Ura was only four at the time, just a little older than Durc was when Ayla was killed. Her mother’s mate, who was the leader’s second, was irrational with grief and blamed Oda’s death on the deformed girl, saying she was unlucky, and that the spirits disfavored her. Ura’s life after the death of her mother, up until the time Oga and Uba came to take her away, was miserable. Her clan, believing the second-in-command, didn’t trust the girl, and felt there were unlucky spirits following her. They were happy to be rid of her.

Grev and Durc, inseparable as always, followed the trail to the pond. The weather getting colder- winter was coming! That morning, Broud and Vorn had gone to the plains to scout for a hunt, and were expected back that evening. The last hunt before winter closed in on them, it was to be Brac’s manhood hunt. At twelve, the heir apparent had a lot to offer the clan. They looked forward to adding another skilled hunter to their ranks.

Arriving at the pond, Durc crouched behind the screen of cattails and long grass that sheltered his blind. This was the perfect time of year for hunting the migrating waterfowl. He hoped to bring down a few birds for fresh meat that night. He knew how much Uba loved the birds, and he was hoping to impress Ura with his hunting skill. Although Durc hadn’t had his manhood hunt yet, he was already a productive member of his family. His skill with the sling was well known throughout his clan. He thought about the next Clan Gathering, seven years away. I will be the best sling hunter the clan has ever seen! he thought to himself.

“Have you spoken to Ura?” Durc asked Grev.

“No. Broud told us to stay away from her,” he said. “Naga gathers wood with her every once and a while when Broud is gone, though. Naga said she’s nice,” Grev looked at Durc slyly. “Why?”

“I just wanted to know,” Durc evaded. “Uba says she’s quiet around the men. I wondered if you’d heard anything.” Durc hesitated. “Has Broud done anything to her, or said anything to her?”

“Not that I know of.” Grev was well aware of his mother’s mate’s dislike of his closest friend. Ever since he could remember, Durc had been the thorn in Broud’s side, but he just couldn’t fathom the reason for it. As a result, Grev did not have as close a relationship with Broud that his brother Brac did. Grev didn’t resent the favoritism, it was just the way things were. In Broud’s clan, you either accepted your position in life or learned to live with the consequences. Grev realized this when he was very young; his deep perception of everything he observed was one of the reasons why Goov chose him as an acolyte.

“But who knows?” Grev said. “I’m not around all the time, and neither are you.”

“I know. It’s just that, well, I have a… feeling. I think something bad is going to happen. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but someday soon… I don’t know,” he signed. “I just get these feelings sometimes.” He sighed inwardly. If Grev didn’t suspect anything, he had a hard time justifying his instincts.

“I wouldn’t worry too much,” Grev reassured Durc. “Everything is going so well! We were First at the Gathering, Broud seems to be in a good mood, there were no illnesses or deaths in the last year, and Brac’s manhood hunt is tomorrow, so there will be a feast and a ceremony in a few days, if they are successful.”

Durc nodded, his head full of thoughts of the future. He still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going to happen. He sent a silent thought to his totem, the Gray Wolf, asking him to warn him of anything he might think of as dangerous or threatening, if it was possible for him to do so.

Durc froze, motioning silently to Grev. A couple of drakes had just landed within Durc’s range, and he prepared to throw his stone. Standing up slowly so as not to frighten the birds away, he whipped the stone out of the sling, hitting a duck squarely. As the other birds fled from the splash, he tried for a second bird, winding up and throwing quickly. His stone connected with the second bird in mid-flight. The other birds, startled by the movement, flew to the opposite side of the pond, away from the sudden activity.

“All I need now is a good way to get the ducks out of the pond once they’re dead,” Durc said wryly as he removed his warm outer wrap and foot coverings, preparing to swim to the floating birds. He had learned from Uba that swimming was one of the gifts he inherited from his mother. Durc had taught himself how to swim in this very pond when he was only five.

Stepping down into the pond, he took an involuntary deep breath as the shock of the coldness hit him. He shivered. “This water is cold!” he motioned. But he was used to cold water, and the pride he would see in Ura’s eyes would more than make up for the chilling dip. Grev just looked on as he made his way to the limp ducks and swam back, pulling them along with him. He took the birds from Durc as he reached the shore and helped him up onto the bank. Durc pushed the water from his naked body with his hands and put his wrap and foot coverings back on, his teeth chattering with cold. He beckoned to Grev, motioning for him to lead the way back home.

Brac was outwardly anxious, this being his first major hunt, his manhood hunt, a hunt the clan desperately needed to succeed to make sure they would survive the long, cold winter. Of course, Brac had killed many small animals, but this was his first time stalking an animal that was at least five times the weight of the biggest man in the clan. In addition to the burden of this being his manhood hunt, he was also hunting the embodiment of his totem. It was a little intimidating, and he was feeling the pressure.

The herd moved slowly, travelling northeast past the waiting men, toward a small river with steep banks. Broud waited impatiently for them to move into a good position. The pit trap was located between his hunters, who were hidden in the long grass in front of a small stand of trees, and the river, in the hopes that the herd might move in the same direction. His predictions were right; the aurochs were slowly grazing their way towards the river, towards the trap. They were almost in position.

Broud signaled his men to get ready. He waited another few minutes, then gave another signal. The chase was on! Broud jumped out of the long grass, waving a club and yelling at the top of his lungs. The huge cattle-like beasts all raised their heads in unison, the bull bellowing an alarm. They were on the move! The other men fanned out along the rear of the herd, waving their arms and yelling, trying to herd the aurochs toward the pit. Running, yelling, screaming, the men chased the animals toward the river where the leading edge of the herd had just leaped down the high bank into the rushing water. The cattle ran in panic, blindly trying to escape the crazed men. The large beasts were stampeding toward the trap, but they were not agile enough to jump over the hole. One beast was sure to fall into the trap. All they needed was one!

They followed the rear of the herd over to the pit to find a young female trapped inside, struggling to get to her feet, her right foreleg broken. The men yelled and screamed, this time in triumph. It worked!

Broud motioned for Brac to come to the side of the pit. “This kill is yours,” he signed, still breathing hard. Brac went and retrieved his spear from the hiding place where the hunters had stashed them before the chase began. He walked back to the pit, his heart pounding. This was it! All he had to do was kill the beast, and he would be a man, destined to be leader of these hunters. The import of it all suddenly struck him, and he stumbled, nearly falling. He looked around at the other men, embarrassed, hoping no one saw him.

He aimed carefully at the plunging neck, hoping to hit the large vessel cleanly. This being his totem, he didn’t want to make the aurochs suffer any more than was necessary. He lunged back and stabbed, striking a solid blow deep into the neck. The cow jerked in reflex, bellowing, and struggled to get away from the pain. Brac pulled the spear back, expecting it to come loose right away, and pulled again, and pulled even harder, putting his entire weight into it, but still he was unable to dislodge the spear. He glanced around at the amused looks of the hunters. They had seen this before-- the wound sometimes held so fast to the weapon that it took two men to dislodge it. Broud took hold of the spear behind Brac, and together they pulled as hard as they could. With a sucking noise and a spray of bright red blood, the spear finally came loose. The cow collapsed into the bottom of the pit, no longer struggling.

Brac was stunned. He stood there next to the dying aurochs, watching the cow’s blood drain away into the dirt. He didn’t realize before how susceptible he and these men were. A simple stab wound to the neck and the aurochs was dead! The cow was so huge it dwarfed him, the herd had outnumbered the hunters by at least a hundred to one, yet they managed to trap and kill this mighty beast. His great totem, the one he prayed to on a daily basis, was brought down by one thrust of his fire-hardened spear. The realization of his vulnerability shook him to his core. He didn’t notice when the other men left the side of the pit.

The hoarse men, tired but exhilarated, followed the path of churned-up soil to the river, hoping to find a few young stragglers trapped in the river, unable to climb up the steep banks to safety. Sure enough, two small calves were bleating for help, trying in vain to climb their way up the bank while being swept quickly downriver. Broud waved the men over, telling Borg and Vorn to run down to the bend in the river a few hundred yards downstream. The steep bank receded into a sandy beach there, and the hunters would be able to kill the calves as they came out of the water, wet and tired from the effort of fighting the current. The three animals would provide the clan with plenty of meat, enough meat to last the long winter and well into spring. They would not go hungry!

Broud, coming back to the pit trap, jumped into the hole and opened up the belly of the young cow, removing the liver and cutting it into pieces for his men. He gave the first slice to Brac, the son of his mate, the future leader of this clan. He was proud to share this first taste of manhood with him.