Zan-Gah: A Prehistoric Adventure (5 page)

Those creatures have mouths that can open so wide that they can swallow small animals whole. With great relief Zan realized that this snake would be unable to bite him because it was gorging on something else. This changed everything. It was the snake that was in danger now! Although it might try and even succeed in scratching him with a poisonous fang, it was open to attack. Backing off slowly, Zan made a wide half-circle around it. Then with a movement that had to be swift, Zan, in a single motion, seized the snake's tail with a firm grip and whipped its head against the stone. Its neck was instantly broken, but Zan repeated the action three or four times until it was as limp as a piece of rope. Then for a few moments he left the
body lie, observing it for any movement and cautiously poking it with his spear to make sure that it was dead. The bird could not be saved.

Dinner! Snake meat can be perfectly good to eat, even if its bite is poisonous. With the sharp stone blade Chul had given him, Zan cut off the head and hurled it away with the bird still in its mouth. He slit open the belly so that he could peel away the skin in a single piece, looking at it with some admiration. In spite of its venomous bite, this was a handsome animal with rich geometric patterns decorating its slender body. He would save and use the skin, but first he must eat.

With effort he built a fire and roasted the meat on his spear. He ate some, and some he kept in his sack for later. For a while after his meal Zan lay on his back under a tree which gave him shelter from the glaring afternoon sun and watched the light peeking through the leaves as they moved. He was happy. He thought he had never tasted anything so delicious, but more important, he had passed two significant tests. He had defended himself from danger and had provided himself with food. Not bad! Too bad Chul had not been there to see him!

But the day was advancing and he still hoped to reach the Hru clan before night. Zan had work to do. He turned his attention to the snake skin, which had to be cleaned and prepared for use. He scraped the inside of the skin with his blade and rubbed it back and forth around the trunk of a slender tree with both hands to turn it into a flexible leather-like strip. He did not know what he would do with it but it was beautiful and a thing to prize.
Perhaps he would make a gift of it to Aniah, whose help he sought, or maybe he would trade it for something he needed. For the time being he could wear it as a sash, and so he did as he lifted his spear and went on.

In every new invention there is apt to be a certain serendipity—that is, a sudden, unlikely stroke of luck that makes all the difference. This is what happened: At a point where Zan was fairly close to the river, he came upon an area moistened by the recent rains where grew a bed of low-lying broadleaf plants. He recognized the plants. They had large, white flowers below their dark leaves which early developed into a tasty fruit—the first of the season. There they were, thousands of them. Zan started gathering the largest ones, which were about the size of walnuts, stuffing them into his bag. But the bag had already been full, so there was not much room. He did not want to empty it to hold more fruit, but he did not wish to abandon the surplus either; so he looked for another way to carry some. He would be needing his goatskin for warmth that night, but he lit upon the idea of wrapping some of the fruit in the snakeskin. Unfortunately, the skin was long and narrow, although fairly wide at one end. No, it wouldn't do. But it was all Zan had, so he loosely enclosed several of the nuggets and went on with the imperfect bundle in his free hand.

He had not progressed many steps when he realized that the objects were falling out of the clumsy container. He gathered up those that had fallen, rewrapped them, and progressed as best he could, stopping frequently to pick up those that refused to stay in their package. Zan ate a couple because he saw that he would lose them
anyway, and after a half hour he looked at the bundle and discovered that he had indeed lost them. All but one had dropped along the way! Zan was furious! He took the snakeskin with its one remaining fruit, twirled it over his head, and threw it away with all his might.

Then something unexpected happened. Serendipity! The small end of the snakeskin, still wound around Zan's finger, stayed with him, but the round fruit flew like a shot against a large boulder and was smashed, so that it left its juice running down the side.

Zan marveled at what he had done. Was it just his anger? He decided to attempt more calmly to duplicate what he had done in rage. Picking up a sharp stone, he placed it in the center of the strip of skin, wrapping the smaller end around his forefinger. Then he whirled it vigorously over his head and let it go. The stone flew with such force that the sharp edge stuck deeply in the bark of an oak tree. Zan examined the embedded stone with astonishment. What if this tree trunk were a man—an enemy? This could be a weapon as dangerous as a spear! But could it be controlled like a spear? Zan tried again without much success. It was awkward to handle. He tried several times with varying results. Even when the stone was released properly it was difficult to aim, and the snakeskin was beginning to fray. It would tear apart soon.

Zan realized that he would have to fashion this weapon, this sling, of stronger materials. He did not wish to cut up his goatskin, but a leg of it could be spared, so he cut off a patch only about the size of his hand. To it he tied a long thong or strap (which he luckily had brought
with him) on either side of the patch. It would work better than the snakeskin. The piece would hold the stone and the thongs would allow him to whirl it overhead even faster than before. And it would last much longer.

By the time Zan finished making his sling it was almost dark. The Hru would have to wait. He tried his weapon and it worked! He could not see any more where the stone went, but he heard it zing and crash in the brush. Zan was eager to practice in order to become proficient at its use, but it was too dark to see what he was doing. He had to arrange some shelter for himself, build another fire, and get some sleep. He set up next to the large stone where he had so luckily smashed the piece of fruit. It was still stuck there, and Zan pulled it away and ate it.

Zan could hardly sleep, so thrilled was he with his discovery. Of course he realized that it needed to be worked on, to be perfected. He longed for the coming of the morning. Lying on his back and staring upward at the gorgeous multitude of stars, he thought with excitement of the possibilities of his invention. Then he thought of his family and of Dael. Suddenly a shooting star streaked across the sky, like a blazing stone flung against the black void of the universe. It was truly a happy sign, for Zan knew by this heavenly assurance that his new project would succeed. It was his destiny.

 

 

 

 

Zan fairly leapt up with the first light of day. He immediately thought of the wonderful shooting star hurtling across the sky—at the very time he had been working on his own hurler of rocks. The omen, as brief as it was beautiful, gleamed in his memory. But would the sling work as it had seemed to the day before? Zan was almost afraid to try it for fear of disappointment. So he ate his fruit and cold snake flesh, and drank deeply from the river Nobla. At its bank he carefully selected some smooth stones, foreseeing that sharp or uneven ones would be harder to throw accurately, and might cut the weapon before he had learned to use it. He knew that practice—maybe a day's or maybe a week's—would be necessary to master its use. When his father had shown him how to fish with his bare hands, Zan had only caused the experienced Thal to laugh when he tried it; but in a week's time, with constant effort, he was as good as Thal, or even better. It had been the same earlier, when he and Dael began to fish with their father's spears. Practice, only practice, made them good at it. It would be the same with the sling.

Zan tried his invention several times, winding it over his head energetically and releasing the stone with its characteristic
whizz
and
thud
. What a powerful thing it was! But it was clumsy and hard to control. He discovered that it worked better when the thongs were a little shorter, and he learned to avoid entangling his arm or hitting his head with the strap; but it took long hours of trial to perfect its use. First he tried whirling the sling overhead, then side-arm. He had his best success when he began with the stone draped over his shoulder and behind, taking a run and flinging it forcefully above his head while bending his knees and putting his whole body into the motion. Sometimes he whirled it more than once to assess the target and get the feel of the stone he was using, but found that it was a single, strong throw from behind his back and overhead that sent it flying. A wind-up was not really necessary. Much practice and experimentation perfected the release. He had to hold on to one strap while letting the other go at exactly the right moment, so he tied a loop for his third finger (the third worked best) in the longer strap. Now he could release only one strap, while the other stayed attached to his hand. He tried different kinds of rocks too, determining which size was best. Smooth round stones proved the most reliable. But timing was everything. Only as the evening approached, after long hours of experimentation, practice, and repetition, did Zan begin to hit the targets he had set up for himself with any regularity.

Then Zan rested. His arm would be sore the next day. He sheltered himself under the shadow of his rock, searched his packet for the little remaining food, and
quietly ate. The sun was going down and not a sound could be heard except for insects and the muffled noise of Zan's chewing. Three rabbits appeared from nowhere, as they are apt to do toward dusk. They ignored Zan's silent presence, but he did not ignore theirs! Soundlessly reaching for his sling with one hand and a stone with the other, and concentrating on the closest animal, Zan very slowly got up. Sensing danger, all three rabbits froze. The sun shone through their long ears and made them glow bright red. Readying the sling behind him, Zan flung it with a whir at one of the rabbits perhaps fifteen paces away—and missed. The three rabbits were slightly startled at the sound, but Zan stopped moving and stood still as the trunk of a tree. All was quiet again. The animal Zan had aimed at was curiously unaware of what was happening and how narrowly it had escaped (for the aim was not far off). It hopped a few feet and continued eating the green, new grass. Zan would get another shot, and this time he did not miss! He would have more meat to eat, and a soft rabbit skin to use or trade.

As he took up the slain animal Zan was greatly pleased with himself. He felt increased confidence to be in possession of this new, swift weapon which he was learning to use so skillfully. It had the advantage of being easily and secretly carried. He could wear it like a belt or wind it up into a small package and none would know that he had it. Meanwhile, he held his spear to discourage attack—for attacked he would be if enemies thought him unarmed. Zan did not have to wait long for a chance to use his weapons.

It would still be light for an hour or two and Zan, who had not planned such a long delay, decided to approach the dwelling place of the Hru while he still could. Perhaps they would give him a night's lodging before they sent him on his way. In these circumstances it was best to offer the rabbit as a gift, rather than keeping it for himself, so holding it by its hind legs and tossing it over his shoulder, he gathered his things and marched on.

Zan was not sure how far he had to go, and as he walked he considered how to approach this unfriendly and troublesome group. He suddenly felt the sharp sting of a rock in the middle of his back, and guessed that he had arrived. He turned to see who had flung it at him and saw two scraggly boys—one of about his age and another that looked like the younger brother—both glowering at him as if Zan were their worst enemy. The elder of the two let out an unnatural, shrill scream that was intended to frighten, but Zan could see that the boy himself was scared.

Zan knew how to deal with this kind of assault. He had his sling and could repel the puny threat with stunning force. Indeed, as Zan reflected, he could probably kill them both. But did he want to? The sling was powerful enough, and he had his sharp-pointed spear too. However, Zan had not come there to fight children, nor to open old wounds that might well renew a war that had quietly gone to sleep. Besides, he feared that if he used the new weapon, his enemies might soon figure it out and make it for themselves. Then everybody would be endangered.

So Zan resisted the strong temptation to retaliate and let pass an opportunity to use his new-found power. Still,
he had to do something, so with a loud yell he charged the two with his spear as if he meant indeed to kill them with it. The boys did exactly what Zan had learned not to do—they turned and ran for a hiding place in the woods. It was fortunate for them that Zan intended them no harm, because in running they completely exposed themselves to Zan's spear. However, Zan only wished to chase them away.

It was not long after that he came upon the Hru families sheltered in a hollow place beneath a stone cliff. The area was three-quarters enclosed by a bend in the river, with the cliff a short distance away. Long ago the river had run in the very place where they now made their camp, but having changed its course, it left behind this hollow place—a fit enough shelter, unless too-heavy rains came to wash them away from their own beds. As soon as Zan approached he saw that things had gone badly for them. They were so gaunt that their ribs and other bones stood out on their bodies, and their eyes seemed hollow and dull. The babies were crying, and Zan was appalled to see that their small stomachs were swollen. A disgusting smell greeted his nostrils.

Both the women and the men were listless and weak. Flies settled on their faces and eyes and they did not even brush them off, either because they were too feeble or just did not care. Without rising, the men made weakly gestures for Zan to go away, and offered him the same piercing and unearthly howl that he had heard shortly before. One of the clansmen took up his spear although he seemed little inclined to use it. Others just stared at him with hostile, bloodshot eyes bulging from empty
sockets. Zan started to speak but they continued to shoo him and to scream with hoarse voices the same unholy sound. One man (possibly their leader) rose with some effort, turned his back to Zan, and brushed his feet on the ground, kicking dust in Zan's direction.