The SealEaters, 20,000 BC Page 17

  While Plak told the story, Tanturto listened to each word, trying to imagine. Grobulit came near enough to hear.

  “Surely, Plak, you exaggerate,” he said standing with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

  “No, Grobulit,” Plak said quietly. “I don’t exaggerate at all. Someday you may see for yourself.”

  “I don’t want to go to sea.”

  “Then, Grobulit, you’ll have to take my word for it,” Plak said and walked past the boy.

  The group began to move again. They passed a lake where the trees that edged one shore were filled with great egrets. The sight startled Plak.

  “What are they?” he asked Grobulit. Plak thought the birds were amazingly large to be standing in trees.

  “Egrets,” was the one-word reply.

  “Plak?” Verra called.

  He caught up and walked with her.

  “There are many snakes in this land. You need to be very alert, for they look much like the land on which they rest. See the pile of rocks over there?”

  “The ones where there is a dark rock atop the heap?”

  “Yes. There is a snake under the lowest rock. Can you see it?”

  “Yes. But I hadn’t noticed it until you showed me.”

  “Look at that log. Can you see the snake there?”

  Plak looked and he could not find a snake. He shook his head.

  “Snat,” she called to her youngest son, “show Plak the snake by that log.”

  Snat had not paid attention, so he had to look at the log. “It’s under the branch that sticks out on the right side. Can you see it, Plak?”

  Plak couldn’t see the snake. He walked a little closer and there blending perfectly with its surroundings was a snake. He realized in that moment he was critically in need of learning to see in this environment, and was determined to use his eyes more.

  “Thank you, Snat. Your eyes are much better than mine. My eyes need to learn to see this land.”

  Plak, Verra, Tanturto, and Snat continued on as sunset began to color the sky brilliant reds, oranges, yellows, and violets. They built a fire and ate jerky that they carried in their backpacks.

  Plak looked at the river they’d have to cross.

  “Do you think it wise to stop here for the night? We can make the crossing in light tomorrow.”

  “Yes,” Verra replied more tired than she had realized.

  The boys searched for firewood. Tanturto noticed her mother was overly fatigued.

  “Mother, is something wrong?”

  “I don’t think so. I’ve just been feeling a little dizzy. Rest should help. Will you tend to the food?”

  “Of course, but first let me make you more comfortable.” Tanturto took her mother’s sleeping skins, laid one on the ground carefully placing grasses under the skin at the place for her mother’s head. She helped her mother to the place she’d prepared. She laid the sleeping skin over her mother. She swiftly began food preparation of jerky and dried berries. Verra slept immediately.

  She dreamed. In her dream she could see the face of Arangawee. He was in terrible pain, but made no noise. Blood covered the left side of his face. He held out his left arm to her, but when she reached back, she lost sight of him. She stirred. She opened her eyes, and breathed out, “No!” in a whisper of terror. Surely, they had not had the war and Arangawee had been mortally wounded. “No!” she whispered again. Fear overwhelmed her.

  After all of the children slept, she walked with Plak to the edge of the creek.

  “I fear it is not well with my husband,” she admitted.

  “Why do you say that?” he asked.

  “I had a dream. His face on the left was covered with blood. The war must have begun. I reached for him and he’d disappear,” she whispered as if speaking it quietly would remove some of the certainty she felt.

  “Verra, he may be safe. You knew there was a chance of war. Maybe missing him has just made you worry too much. Do you think that could be the reason for the dream?”

  “I don’t know, Plak. I just don’t know. I know my whole being aches and I feel as if he may no longer be alive on the earth. I feel that I should not speak his name.”

  “Why not?” Plak asked very curious.

  “Because if a spirit of a dead man hears his name, it tends to call him back instead of letting him go freely to where he should go after death.”

  Plak held her to try to comfort her. She let loose her tears, as if she grieved for one already gone. He knew there was a possibility that her dream had merit, so he comforted her as if it had. When her tears were gone, she thanked Plak and returned to her sleeping place. She expected to remain awake all night, but instead she fell to sleep immediately.

  Day followed day. Full moon followed full moon. Plak was amazed at the size of the land and that Verra seemed to know the route as clearly as if she were a bird in migration. Finally, she told him, “We will see the split land tomorrow.” She was placing the rocks in a certain way that would communicate to Arangawee exactly which way to go to follow her.

  She always chose flat land for the signs. Arangawee would put the side of his head to the ground to locate her signs. He could see them elevated above the flat ground.

  When they awoke the next morning, they headed quickly to the path that traversed the small mountain before them. When they reached the top of the hill, what stretched before them was astonishing.

  “This is the split land. It goes for a long distance both that way and this way,” Verra explained. “No one knows what split the land, but you can see that it is real with your own eyes. I was born near here. My parents and all those who lived before them have been here always. They lived down at the bottom of this place, where green things grow. It is a good place. I will lead you there. When we start to go down, be very careful. None of this land is stable. You could slide or fall. Follow me and walk where I walk.”

  Everyone listened to her, but their eyes remained on the land. The colors of the land were warmly inviting. It was a place like none other. Floating puffy clouds drifted by seeming to change the color of the scene for a moment.

  Suddenly Snat screamed. He stood on one foot and held the other in the air. A triangular-headed pinkish-colored snake slithered away from him.

  Instantly, Plak bounded to the boy’s side. He sat the boy on the ground, pulled his knife, and located the bite on the side of Snat’s leg. Snat wept while Tanturto comforted him and Verra watched carefully to see what Plak was doing. Plak cut into the first puncture in an X shape. He cut away the flesh as deeply as he dared under each flap formed by the X and removed it, laying it on the ground. Then he did the same with the other puncture mark. Snat had two gaping, bleeding wounds and was in extreme pain.

  Verra gave Snat a dried leaf and told him to chew it for pain. Plak told her to sew the skin flaps together, leaving the wounds so they could drain.

  From a distance Grobulit and Tanturto watched. Grobulit had looked after his brother since he was born. He loved him very much. He felt utterly helpless while a stranger stepped in to take over. He watched every move Plak made, his emotions torn in concern for his brother.

  Verra watched carefully. She’d never seen anyone do what Plak had done. She wondered whether the loss of skin would affect her son’s ability to walk. Tanturto had already formed in her mind a picture of Plak in which he ranked at near-hero level in her esteem, because of the eastern sea crossing. If Plak helped her brother, her esteem for him would grow.

  “How far to your people?” Plak asked.

  “We have to go down to the river level and walk upriver less than a quarter of a day,” she explained.

  “I’ll leave my backpack here and carry him,” Plak said. I should be able to find it again. “Lead us quickly,” he said a bit sharply.

  Grobulit reached down for Plak’s backpack.

  “Young man,” Plak said, seeing the attempt. “That’s too heavy for you. It’s okay to leave it here.”

  Undaunted, Grobu
lit replied, “Is there anything in there that you would hate to lose?”

  Plak looked at the boy. He realized some of the resentment had subsided. “Look inside and you’ll find a small package wrapped in the softest hide. It contains a leather strip that passes through a drilled piece of mammoth tusk carved like an animal. It would mean much to me if you brought it with us.”

  Grobulit quickly found the necklace. He kept it wrapped in the same soft leather in which he found it. He instantly stepped into the line moving down into the deep valley. As he walked, he was amazed remembering the weight of Plak’s backpack. He was unable to lift if off the ground.

  It was evening when they could smell the camp of Verra’s people. They were about to serve the evening meal when the travelers arrived. All the food preparation came to an abrupt halt as relatives embraced and introductions were made. Verra explained the immediate need for Nogathat. The bent over woman was very old, but she knew her medicine. Plak carried Snat to the old woman. She asked for boiling water and began to clean the wound. She felt the boy and realized he was not as hot as she expected. Warmer than normal, but not hot. She noticed the odd way of handling the punctures, but while she worked she kept her own counsel, only occasionally peeking from the folds of skin about her ancient eyes to examine Plak.

  Grobulit remained like a shaded stone against the wall of stone that surrounded Nogathat’s home. He did not put himself in the way of busy people. He simply wanted to be near his brother and know how he was doing.

  “Come, Grobulit,” Plak said. “I’d like to have my little carved mammoth tusk now.”

  Dutifully, Grobulit stood up. The carved tusk was in his backpack. He showed Plak where he’d put it just outside the stone house. Inside he found the wrapped necklace and handed it to Plak.

  “Thank you for doing what you could to save my brother. I love him. I want him to be well.”

  “I only did the little I know. I think now he’s in Nogathat’s hands, he’ll have a better chance.”

  “Plak, do not make little of my words. I’ve seen grown men die from such a snake bite in less time than it took us to arrive here. If my brother lives, it’s because of you. I have treated you shamefully. I resented your coming with us when I wanted my father to make this trip. There was some reason he wanted us out of there, and I don’t know what that reason was. Do you?”

  “Yes. I know.”

  “Will you tell me?”

  “Your father loves your mother and all of his children with a great passion. He wanted you safe.”

  “Safe? Safe from what? I know there was a reason, but it had to be more than just wanting us safe.”

  “It was all about safety. Among your people, Grobulit, there was treachery. It moved like the snake that bit your brother. It hid looking as if all were well, but when the time was right, it struck with venom. That is how treachery works. If I told you that Danumite and Toa were plotting with the Green Band chief to overthrow Chief Piatne, would you believe it? That’s what your father told me to encourage me to accompany you here. I hope I explain this right. Fusledge of the Green Band wants to gather all bands together to rule over them, eliminating the chiefs of today. He has promised the people who admire him that they will have wonderful lives with more freedom after this is accomplished. Your father suspected war was coming soon. This knowledge was shared among the men only. Arangawee told Verra so that she would be willing to take you far away to keep you safe.”

  “I should be with my father.” He dropped to his knees groaning.

  “No, Grobulit. You are nearing the man years, but you’re not there yet. War is a horrible thing. Your father knows that. He knows your love. He decided that you were not ready, and he wanted a long life for you. That is the measure of his love. You must respect your father’s decision. Try not to assume you know better than he does.”

  Looking at the sky, the words poured out, “O, Creator, how could you separate us from our father in his time of need?” The boy stood there hurting.

  Plak went to him and embraced him. “Grobulit, neither the Creator nor your father is to blame for the separation. It’s the rumor of war that has done it. Knowing that you’re safe, your father’s thoughts will not be divided when war comes. He will likely survive because he is not divided. He can keep all his attention focused on what is happening. Do you understand?” Plak stepped back.

  “Yes, Plak, I think I do. I also heard my mother when she dreamed. Did she dream my father died?”

  “That’s a tough question, Grobulit. Your mother knew of the treachery and coming war. She might have had so much anxiety about the separation that she carried her fears into her dream, or she may have had a sense of your father’s being injured. She did not dream of his death but rather of an injury to the left side of his head. Until you know for certain, don’t let the suspicion eat at you the way the snake spit eats at your brother. Ask yourself whether you could do anything about your father.”

  “I know I could not.”

  Plak put his open hand under Grobulit’s chin. He lifted the boy’s face to see his eyes. “Could you make it home alone from here?”

  “No,” came the answer with a sob.

  “Then, do not trouble yourself with fears and grim imaginings. Stay in this time and place. The rest will take care of itself.”

  Grobulit stared at the ground.

  “What does your Creator tell you happens after you die?” Plak asked quietly.

  “We go to the sky to live among the stars. There is no hunger there. No time of too cold. Hunting is good.”

  “It is a good place, then?”

  “Yes. Of course.”

  “Then do not continue to worry about your father. You are in a good place here. If all goes well there, your father will come to take you back home. If not, he will either come here to live, or he will be in a good place. You need to learn that what you cannot control, you must release. Trust the Creator in whom you believe.”

  “What I cannot control, I must release?”

  “Yes. If you do not, it can make your thinking place fail to work properly. You become an unreasonable man.”

  “What must I do?”

  Plak thought a bit and then very slowly said, “Leave your father to the Creator. Leave your brother to Nogathat. Enter into this people and find where you can fit. Take time to see the beauty that is around you. Take time to laugh. Take time to come to know people. Be useful. Learn everything you can learn. Trust only when you know someone well. Make a friend for life, but if they turn away from you, give them their freedom. Do not cling to the past. Live life in the present day by day. That, my young friend is all I know.”

  “That is a lot,” he admitted. “At first I didn’t want to like you at all. I like you, Plak, and I respect you.”

  “That means a lot to me, Grobulit. More than you can imagine.”

  Plak put the necklace around his neck. The smooth polished bone was carved into the shape of a seal. It had been polished until it had the shine of a wet rock. It was his treasure. Grobulit looked at it. He reached out to touch it. The smoothness surprised him.

  “It’s a carved seal, Grobulit. Once when I learned to make spear points I did so poorly that I went to our pile of supplies and took a piece of mammoth tusk and carved it. I made this seal. My people are called SealEaters. The seal is a sign of my people. I was a better carver than spear point maker, but we each had to master spear point making. I asked my uncle, Amaroz, to drill the seal so I wouldn’t break it. He did. I treasure it. Thank you for bringing it along. Tomorrow I’ll go to retrieve my backpack.”

  “Plak, what’s in your backpack? It’s the heaviest one I ever tried to lift.”

  “Mostly spear points and tools.”

  “That explains it,” the boy laughed.

  The next day Plak retrieved his backpack.

  Winter came and then spring. During that time, Plak and Tanturto had come closer and closer together. They sat on a large stone near their home after
sunset in their valley. Long ago before people, the stone on which they sat had fallen from far above them leaving its home in the high wall above. It was smooth and afforded a good view of the river. A slight wind increased the sense of a light chill. Plak put his arm around Tanturto, pulling her to him. She complied, comfortable in the movement she’d experienced so often lately.

  “So much has happened since we arrived here,” Tanturto said eyes fixed on the stars above.

  “It has,” he agreed, his gray eyes looking down into hers, swimming to her spirit through them.

  “I will never be able to thank you enough for saving Snat. What an odd way of taking care of snakebite.”

  “I only did the best I could. I know you need to eliminate as much snake spit as possible. That was all I could think to do.” He pulled her tighter to him.

  “Well, Nogathat was impressed.”

  “Tanturto, you have no need to continue to thank me. Let this be the last we speak of it. Snat is well. That is all that matters.”

  “I’ll try. Sometimes it just comes over me as I remember.”

  “Let’s start new memories, sweet Tanturto.”

  “What are you thinking?” she asked totally unprepared for his reply.

  “I think you should be my wife, and I, your husband.”

  Tanturto began to laugh. She laughed quietly, but the laughter once started did not wish to cease.

  “Why are you laughing?” Plak asked with some consternation.

  Finally, the laughter subsided. “You surprised me. I think your idea is wonderful. Plak, what’s that?”

  Plak listened to the quiet of the night.

  “I hear nothing.”

  “There it is again,” she said.

  Plak strained to hear what she heard.