Tau Ceti (an Ell Donsaii story #6) (49 page)

Pell’s mind was in turmoil.
Was
Pell’s putting Gontra’s finger back in place really due to the healer’s ceremonies? How could that be? Why hadn’t Pont been able to put the finger back himself the first night if that was the case? Why hadn’t Exen stood up to Denit for Pell after Pell fixed his father’s finger? Just because Denit was Exen’s best friend and Denit hated Pell? For that matter why had Gontra come up with the story about falling into a bush and pulling his finger out OK?! He looked over to check his position relative to Belk. He cursed. While he had been daydreaming, the line of hunters had come onto a couple of horses. The center of the line had halted and the ends had started to curl around. Pell had missed Roley’s signals and had continued straight rather than curving around as he was supposed to. Since he was at the end of the line, no one had curved around in front of him to cause him to pay attention. He was way out of position! Roley was going to be furious! Pell was tempted to run to get back into position but, of course, running attracted attention and would almost certainly spook the horses. As quickly as he thought he could possibly get away with, Pell began slinking back toward his assigned position—if this hunt went poorly, Roley would probably beat him for his stupidity, he had beaten Bonat last fall for shouting at Boro during a hunt last fall. Beaten him so badly that Bonat had limped for days afterward. Bonat’s shout had spooked their intended prey at a time when everyone had been hungry and irritable after several weeks of poor hunting. At least this time they’d had good hunting for several days now, perhaps Roley wouldn’t be so angry—the sinking feeling in Pell’s stomach said otherwise though. He found himself trembling at a time when he needed all of his coordination to move quickly, yet quietly.

The circle was closing more slowly as they neared the horses, though the horses didn’t seem very skittish as yet. Pell continued trying to catch up to his position, trying to walk quietly but feeling as if the horses would surely be spooked soon. If by nothing else, simply by the pounding of his heart in his chest.

Suddenly one of the horses looked up! As the hunters slowed their pace even further, the other one looked up as well. The larger one swung its head about nervously, but all the hunters had become stationary. After a bit, the horses resumed their grazing. A small hand wave from Roley started everyone moving in again. Suddenly the horses looked up again—the larger one pranced around the smaller in a little circle. They both bolted toward the opening between Roley and Denit. The two hunters began shouting and waving their arms. Pell began running for his position. He
had
to close the circle. His absence was making the normally weaker section where the two points came together even more gaping. Roley and Denit successfully turned the horses back. But, as if it were a nightmare come true, now they headed for the hole Pell was supposed to have closed!

Pell ran faster than he thought he had ever run in his life—but it obviously wasn’t going to be fast enough! He felt terror detonate, as if he were running away from one of the night cats, rather than toward his own prey. The horses were going to get away
and
they were going to do it through the hole he had left while daydreaming! In desperation he skipped a step and hurled his spear. It was wide! With a sick sensation he saw his spear fly straight and true toward Tando, no it was going to be short!

No! The spear skipped off the ground and flew into Tando’s running feet. Pell saw as in slow motion, Tando’s arms flying out as he fell. Then Tando struck the ground,
hard
. The horses pounded away. Pell stumbled to a stop.

With great dread and a pounding heart he walked toward where Tando lay, praying to all the spirits that Tando would bounce back to his feet and say he was OK. But Pell could already tell that
that
wasn’t going to happen. Pell noticed that his own hands were trembling; in fact his whole body was shaking like an animal in its death throes. Suddenly and desperately, Pell’s bladder was full and he had to urinate—then there was a spasm in his crotch and a warm feeling spread down the inside of his thigh.

As Pell neared the group around Tando, he felt as if he were walking in a dream. He saw the hunters turning intermittently to look at him as he approached. Their countenances seemed to Pell much like the Evil Spirit masks that some of the healers wore at summer gatherings. He heard the word “Pell” repeatedly but seemed unable to understand what else was being said. Pell’s ears rung, his head felt light and his knees felt weak. He looked at Tando’s legs and, with relief, saw no blood or other sign of injury—then he realized that Tando was holding his left wrist… It was deformed. It was bent back at an angle.

Tando was white as the chalk of the Cliff.

Pell swayed, wondering momentarily if he was going to be able to keep his feet. Roley solved that problem by taking one quick stride and cuffing him to the ground. The blow which the mighty Roley delivered in an almost offhand way to the side of Pell’s head demonstrated once again the frightening physical power that made Roley their leader.

Roley stood furiously over the semiconscious, but nonetheless cowering, Pell, “First you daydream and get out of position! Then you rush to get back into position and frighten the horses! Then… then, you break the most important rule of the hunt. Over and over I say ‘Don’t throw your spear towards other hunters!’ Of
course,
you miss! Everyone
knows
you can’t hit
anything
! But somehow you
do
manage to hit
Tando
! I declare you ginja! Ginja forever! We’ve kept you in the tribe out of respect for your mother and your dead father. Now you have proved yourself worse than useless, you are dangerous too. We cast you out. We cast you out. We cast you out!”

The others took up the chant. Pell was not surprised to see Denit and Pont shouting the curse louder than any of the others. He thought of appealing to Gontra for support against this death sentence. Gontra surely owed Pell something, but as Pell searched out Gontra’s eyes, he saw them downcast. Gontra was chanting, same as the others, not as loud perhaps, but still the same death sentence, “We cast you out.” Exen too, eyes on the horizon, not meeting Pell’s. Boro was vehemently chanting beside his new hero Denit, his old pledge to follow Pell from the tribe if Pell was cast out appeared to be forgotten.

Pell looked pleadingly at Roley but Roley’s face hardened and he raised his spear. Pell scrabbled back a few paces on his buttocks then rose to his feet and began to run. Out of habit he curved around back toward the cave, running homeward as he always had before when things went wrong. He had probably covered a mile or two before he slowed, thinking about the fact that cave was no longer his home. He stumbled to a walk, tears streaming down his face and considered his options.

People just didn’t survive outside of their tribes. If they were cast out they died unless they were able to join another tribe. Pell had heard of a few who had lived for a season alone but they had been good hunters, cast out for fighting or some other crime. Even excellent hunters eventually died if no tribe took them in. A few weeks bad hunting, a minor injury with no one to help, an encounter with a night cat—there were just too many things to go wrong if you were alone.

However, Pell knew he wasn’t even a good hunter who might survive a season and later be taken back in. His poor hunting was after all the primary reason he had been cast out of his tribe. He knew it might have come to this anyway some winter, if it hadn’t been brought to a head by his stupidity today. But maybe with a few more years of maturity he wouldn’t have been so clumsy. Maybe he could hit something when he threw.

How could he possibly survive?

For a while he considered casting himself off the same cliff that Durr had. At least it would be a quick death rather than slow starvation. The thing that kept him going was the possibility that, if he survived for a few days, Roley
might
reconsider. Pell would need fire to keep away the night cats though. If he must sleep outside the cave he would also need more furs to keep warm. And he
must
find shelter somewhere, not necessarily a cave but at least a defendable windbreak

He suddenly realized that the women back at the cave didn’t know he was outcast as yet. Perhaps he could get some supplies? He continued back to the cave. His mother saw him coming alone. With an exclamation she ran out to ask whether he was hurt.

“No Momma, Roley ‘cast me out’.”

Donte staggered and turned white as a sheet. “No!” was all she could say.

Pell grasped her arm to hold her up but she sank slowly to the ground anyway. “Yes Momma. I’m hoping to get a coal from the fire and a few sleeping furs before the rest of the men return and tell the women. Without
some
supplies, there’s no way I’ll survive. I don’t know, maybe I don’t deserve to live. Perhaps there’s not a chance that I can make it. But... I want to try.”

Shaken to her very core, Donte just sat there, staring up at her son.

Pell shook her shoulder a little, “Momma! Please! If you won’t get me a few supplies before the hunters come back and tell everyone, I won’t have any chance at all.”

Donte’s face took on a look of resolve. “I’ll come with you, we’ll form our own tribe of two.”

Pell started back, aghast, then rethought the idea. It would be good to have some company in exile. Even in death. He realized that half the terror of being cast out was the thought of being completely alone. Later in the spring when the plants began to green and the tubers to fatten up Donte would be invaluable. She knew the woman’s art of gathering plant food.

Pell came back to reality. Right now it was early spring when they depended on the hunt for all their food and Donte, being a woman, would only be a heavier burden for an inferior hunter such as himself. It didn’t occur to Pell that Donte might help with the hunt, the concept of women hunting wasn’t within the pale of his experience. “Oh Momma, we can’t form a tribe without any hunters. You’d just die with me.”

“Better to die with you then. All my other children dead… so many years now... It’s no use going on if I lose you too.”

Pell thought a moment, “No! You’ve
got
to stay with the tribe, at least for now. You might be able to sneak me a few supplies if I need them. You wouldn’t be able to steal anything for me if you were an exile too. Later this summer, if I’m still alive, you could join me and help me gather for the winter. We could try to form our own tribe then. Besides, what I’m really hoping is that Roley will change his mind and let me back in the tribe. If you stay, you would be able to beg him for mercy on my behalf. You won’t be able to influence him if you’re an outcast too.”

Tears brimming in her eyes, Donte sat staring into the distance awhile, finally nodded, then said simply, “Wait.”

She turned and walked back up the path to the cave. A few minutes later she came out with a bundle and walked back to where the forlorn Pell stood, somewhat out of sight behind several small trees.

“Here,” she said handing him the bundle, “Two furs, one of Lenta’s old firepots with a couple of good coals, some flint, some sinew and thongs, a big piece of leather and a chunk of meat from yesterday’s kill. I’ve been thinking about where you should set up your camp. You need to be a day’s walk from here so you’ll be out of Roley’s regular hunting area. It would be good if it was towards the Aldans’ usual summer hunting areas so I would be able to find you when the gathering gets better.”

They talked a while and Pell agreed to try to set up his camp in a ravine a day’s walk in the direction of the summer gathering place. The tribe normally summered at the edge of a large area of grassland about two and a half days walk toward the summer tribal gathering and trading area which was a few days beyond that even. Thus, he would be about half way between the tribe’s winter and summer areas but at a day’s walk, still outside the hunting areas for either. The ravine they agreed upon was easy enough to identify because it had a spring fed stream. The water of the stream was known for running ice cold, even in the heat of summer.

Donte clasped Pell to her bosom. Realizing bemusedly that he had grown enough to be as tall as she was, Pell hugged her back a moment. Then he turned and trudged away.

Initially Pell started out directly for the ravine with the cold springs. He hadn’t gone far when he realized he wouldn’t be passing too far from the brush choked gulch where he had wanted to lay in waiting, hoping that an animal would get stuck in his trap. He had intended to go there later that day anyway. On the one hand he didn’t want to go, because he needed to set up a shelter as soon as possible against the fear of the big night cats. On the other hand, he realized that the thicket of brush might be a safe refuge from the cats, which would have difficulty insinuating their bulk within. It didn’t look like rain that night anyway and the dead brush would provide material for a fire. And so, instead of passing by, he turned into the mouth of the little gulch.

When he arrived at the brushy wall, he immediately smelled blood. Something had made a fresh kill nearby. He looked around but whatever it was it wasn’t on his side of the brush wall. Perhaps it was on the other side? Excitedly he crouched down and began to go through. A few paces into the mess of sticks and brush he saw some motion ahead. He realized that it was coming from the area he had worked on. There was a boar in there!
And a wolf!
He backed up warily holding his spear out in front of him to ward off the wolf if it came his way. His heart was throbbing but the wolf didn’t pursue him. In fact, it appeared that there were only a few abortive motions coming from the wolf. The boar lay still. Finally, holding his spear rigidly in front of himself he advanced again. When he got close again he saw that both animals had become thoroughly trapped in the little area between the sharpened stakes that he had set up the other day. He suspected that the pig had become trapped first. The wolf had probably come to investigate, hoping to make a meal of the pig.