The Song of the Wind
Benjamin Trayne
The Cold
If ever a young boy could have been expected to die, Tay-nah was he. The low heat of a
small fire barely reached him through the narrow gap that separated him from it. And yet, for
the moment, with the furry hide of a great bear tugged closely about his thin body, it was just
enough to keep him from freezing. He was now alone in the world and in this place, and it was
colder than any winter he had ever imagined.
This was the way he spent every night, barely awake, and hardly asleep. Yellow flames
danced in the swirling draft of frigid air that forced its way past the low hide-covered doorway,
and the smoke formed a spiral as it raced for the small hole in the ceiling. The welcome light of
the fire also danced in Tay-nah's liquid, half-open eyes, and frost from his breath gathered on
his prominent eyebrows. Three things had kept him from drifting off. Should the fire go out, he
would surely freeze to death. Should one of the big predators that often prowled outside in the
darkness become bold enough to attack, Tay-nah wanted a chance to raise the point of a long,
chert-tipped spear between it and himself. Lastly, the hunger gnawing at his belly made it
difficult to sleep, anyway.
Overhead, a thick layer of new snow weighed down the hides his father had lashed over
saplings, providing some shelter from the constant wind and the extreme cold. For days he had
cleared the snow each morning to keep the shelter from collapsing, but now, at last, the snow
around it had become so deep that all he could do was to push aside what had gathered again on
the top.
All of Tay-nah's people, including his father, were gone. But for some reason, he knew it
was not yet time for him to follow them. He had not been taken like the rest, and he would live.
Perhaps he could find something to eat in the other shelters, even though most of them were
still occupied by frozen bodies of the dead.
Fighting sleep, the boy's mind wandered off to a fading vision of his mother, who two
years earlier had been alive. She had comforted him while a storm passed, her arm about his
shoulders, as she whispered, “On laul tuul”. The song of the wind. He smiled slightly. As a
powerful blast of winter wind tore at the hole in the ceiling, the memory helped. He reached for
his small pile of wood, put two larger pieces on the fire, and allowed himself to drift off to
sleep, at last.
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Some centuries earlier, Tay-nah's ancestors had traveled a very great distance in search
of a new home. Many had set out together. Few survived the trek. It was the time of great ice,
and there was no more game to be hunted. They were heavily outnumbered and unwelcome to
the south, and so although it had seemed like a deliberate walk into oblivion, they had
journeyed north. Even a slim hope of survival was better than certain death. Eventually, a few
had at last reached a new land on the other side of the world, beyond the great expanse of
glaciers. They found themselves no more welcomed than from where they had come, but the
hunting was good, and over time, they made their new surroundings their home, and would go
no further. They gradually blended with the people here. And as before, eventually, things
changed.
Tay-nah's people had recently begun to move northward, following the herds of great
mastodon as they moved. The time of the expansive sheets of ice was going away, and the
animals were now moving toward the receding glacier, the freshwater runoff and the advancing
greenery there. His people were resourceful and good hunters, and had no fear of the huge
predators that had also come here, or of the powerful cold they knew would descend during
these months. But they were not many, and they were not immune to disease. In fact, that was
why Tay-nah now found himself alone. One of the adults had fallen ill, then another, then three
more. There had been just three other children in the tribe, two younger boys and a girl who
was slightly older than Tay-nah. But now, they were gone too.
Tay-nah did not believe himself special, and he had no thoughts about why he had been
spared the ravages of the sickness. He only knew that he had been. In fact, although his life had
only seen ten summers pass, he was unusually strong, unusually able. And as were any who
survived here, he was more mature than his youth might have otherwise seemed to suggest. But
deep inside, he was still no more than a boy.
The deep roar of the winter wind at last diminished with the arrival of daylight. Tay-nah
awakened with a start and opened his eyes. The fire was little more than a few embers, and he
hastened to add twigs and leaves from his fuel stock to bring the flames back to life. But with
the demise of the fire, the snow had closed over the hole in the ceiling of the hut, and smoke
quickly began to fill the small space within. Reluctantly, the boy shed the stiffened bear hide
and shoved his way outside, pushing back a great deal of new snow to make his exit. He
blinked and squinted as the extensive white landscape both sparkled and blinded him. Tugging
at the straps on his leggings to close them more snugly, he reached for the pole he had been
using to clear the snow from the top of the hut, and went to work. Once the smoke could
escape, there could be only one goal for him this day...find food. He checked and rebuilt his
fire, then began working his way toward the nearest hut, struggling through snow that was
nearing two meters in depth.
Each of the shelters would yield something, although the first two contributed very little.
But finally, as Tay-nah succeeded in gaining access to a third, his efforts were rewarded. This
had been the hut where meat had been brought for smoking. Strips of meat hung above the cold
fire pit, and all of it was frozen hard. It seemed miraculous the animals here had not gotten to it
first. In the second hut he had entered, he had found two human bodies frozen to the ground.
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One of them had already been partially eaten. The marauding animal must have been small, and
perhaps it couldn't reach the strips of meat in this hut. Tay-nah wouldn't give it another chance.
He wrapped as much of the meat as he could lift into the hide that had covered the door and
carried it to his own hut. He went back for the rest. He would store the meat along the inner
edge of his hut and cover it with more hides to keep it frozen. He had also found two sacks that
were each half-full of wild rice, brought here from the south. Although a boy, he knew well
enough to avoid eating his fill, saving most of the food for later. Now he would have to find a
way to protect his precious collected cache. He began to gather the weapons he could find.
The resourcefulness of his people was his as well. He would use a chert hatchet to help
him to dig a trench, then the butt-ends of spears would be placed into it, the shafts supported by
a sapling and the points arranged in a line at the hut entrance. He lashed sharpened sticks to a
sapling frame and propped it up, weighting it with a large rock. He set it up as a trap so that the
entry of a smaller animal would trip it, dropping the sharpened sticks between the shafts of the
spears. Thus if the scent of his food cache was detected, it was bait, and he might harvest some
small animals. Reinforcing the walls of the hut with cut saplings from some of the other huts,
would follow.
The young boy who might have surely died, instead began to gain strength during the
long winter months, his senses sharpened by his circumstances. The predators left him alone,
now and then daring to raid an unguarded hut and feeding on the bodies of the dead. Tay-nah
hated that, but he also knew what his options were - none. So he worked and planned, realizing
that some of his will to survive had come from the memory of his father's eyes. His father had
gazed up at him just before he died, his sickened eyes shining with a few tears, with remorse,
and with pity. He had not expected his child would survive. Thus whatever Tay-nah did for
himself, he also did because it would have made his father proud. Each night, too, Tay-nah
returned to mental visions of his mother, whom he'd never really stopped missing.
And always, for some company, there was the song of the wind.
The Stone Mounds
For Tay-nah, the winter slowly passed and the track of the sun gradually moved higher
in the sky. The snow still came often but now, it collected on ice, as the snow pack had softened
and refrozen dozens of times. Tay-nah waited patiently, daring to venture outside without quite
all of the heavy wraps he'd worn during the coldest times. Today he tossed his head in the chill
wind, his sandy hair blowing out behind him. By now it had grown well below his shoulders.
He himself had grown nearly three inches since this time a year earlier, although he didn't
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realize it; and he was much stronger, both physically and emotionally.
As Tay-nah scanned the landscape, he remembered summer and fall here. There was a
river not far off to the south. When there was no snow, it was an easy walk from the huts. But it
was now dangerously high and choked with heaved and broken chunks of ice, and would
remain that way for several more months. A few miles further to the south, crags of limestone
jutted from the mountain tops. Here and there a tree spiked up among them. He recalled the
comparatively low hills much farther to the south, where he'd been born. There, many more
trees and much more greenery blanketed the land, as they had been well away from the nearest
advance of a glacier. Here, the trees were sparse even in the lowlands, and the meadows of
grass that grew in summer were broken up by equally wide areas that were nothing but stones,
deposited there by the ice. The final encampment of his people had been built in a grassy area
that had also supported enough small trees for them to construct their huts. Nevertheless, there
were many rocks about. Rocks were on the surface, everywhere.
He had seen the dead buried before, and he remembered too well the burial of his
mother. He knew what to do. His objective would be simply to prevent animals from getting to
the bodies further, nothing more. Here it should be easy. If only he had some help. If only, he
wasn't so completely alone. If only there weren't so many of them. There would be fourteen
adults and three children to bury.
Realizing that it was critical to complete the task as quickly as possible after the first
major thaw, Tay-nah decided he could not afford to wait until all of the snow was gone. And
many of the adults had been twice his own weight, so he wouldn't be moving them far. The
snow, which had condensed and compacted to less then a meter in depth, could no longer be the
limiting factor. The huts had been constructed close together, the graves would be as well. He
selected a nearby hut that already had two bodies within it and he set to work, using the rocks
from the fire circles in all of the huts to begin on that one. It was hard work, and when he had
but two layers of stones covering the bodies, he began to realize just how much more it would
take to finish. This would be enough for now, for this grave.
He also understood there was an even greater problem. The smoking of the meat had
obviously not been completed, and he wasn't sure how to do it. That had not mattered while the
temperatures were very low. However now he could raise the temperature in his hut to an
almost comfortable level of warmth, and he'd had to cut through the wall of the hut to bury the
cache of meat in the snowbank that lay against it. The meat was no longer frozen hard, and that
meant the under-cured portion would spoil before very much longer. It would be quite some
time before any browse or berries would be available, and he'd killed nothing with his trap. He
began to eat his fill each day while the meat was still fit, and he began to venture out in search
of game.
The year as a whole would be the hardest of his life. He worked continually, one day on
burying the dead and the next, searching for food. The meat began to turn and he began to use
it to bait his makeshift traps. He caught nothing. The snowpack soon vanished, and he realized
he was in serious peril of starvation. Nevertheless, he worked through hunger to complete the
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low mounds of stones over all of the bodies, mostly arranged in twos, side by side.
The hardest part was knowing the names of each of them. All of them had meant
something to Tay-nah. They were his people, and he would not dishonor their memory by
leaving them to rot in the summer sun, or to become carrion for vultures. His fingers cracked
and bled, and hard calluses formed on his palms.
He resolved to bathe, as the smell of the bodies he'd had to move never seemed to leave
him. It was then that he discovered the fresh water mussels that populated the shallows of the
river. Baked on the rocks next to his fire, they were an excellent food source, and he didn't have
to stalk or kill. He moved his hut to a high bank overlooking the river, away from the stone
mounds. That was the event that began the life he could now consider his own.
Once that year, Tay-nah narrowly escaped death. The hide of the great bear that had kept
him warm might have been this one's brother, who knew? Tay-nah had seen only the occasional
herd of deer and once, a lion. But it had been well away from his hut, and he had stayed hidden.
Considering that the lion had killed a deer, he had begun to feel as though he was safe here.
That all changed one evening when the bear came to call. It was monstrous, a “short-faced”
bear, several times the size of the ordinary bears he had seen before. With one swipe of a great
paw, the entire side of the hut had been opened. But the exit was on the opposite side, and Taynah
scrambled through it, ran and dove into the icy river; and was carried downstream by the
current. He had crossed the river and had hidden among the rocks in the darkness, listening to
the huge bear roaring and pacing along the bank, upriver from his hiding place.
When morning finally came, the boy returned to what remained of his hut and couldn't
quite believe what he found. This beast had not been the brother of his warm bear-hide. The
tracks made by this animal were gigantic, like none he'd ever seen. Then he remembered the
adults talking about these bears. It was the one species they felt they could not kill, even as a
group, because of their size, strength, great speed and aggression. That was why they had been
talking about building huts from stones. Escaping to such a building might actually be the only
defense.
Tay-nah realized his survival was dependent on his speed and his strength, but even
moreso, on preparation. He had much to learn, and he would be learning it on his own. The
possibility of leaving this place never entered his mind. Instead, he saw it as the land and the
last resting place of his people. It was home. He grew to be tall, strong, fleet of foot, and
fearless. Like the rest of his people, he was an excellent hunter. His new dwelling was
eventually lined inside with wood but built of stone, a heavy wooden door lashed together, built
to deny entrance to even the largest of bears. He never again saw another human being.
Fortunately for him, the short-faced bears seemed to have become just as scarce.
Animals and birds were plentiful in the region and were increasing in number and
variety each year. Fish had not yet repopulated the waters during this period, so soon after the
recession of glacial ice. Some creatures, such as the mastodon, would disappear from the earth
entirely. Others would survive, a few, virtually unchanged.
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Tay-nah would spend his teen years learning all he could about each kind of animal in
his valley. He already knew which of them were predatory and which were not. For the nonpredators,
he would learn the differences between the males and the females, in coloration and
craftiness. In most cases, the females provided better meat. But usually they were harder to
pick out of their natural camouflage, and sometimes, they were actually much harder to hunt.
For the predators, the lessons to learn were about survival. Could he outrun it? Was it possible
for one man to kill it, if attacked? What time of day and where did members of its species hunt?
What would be his best defense, if beset by more than one? Never was there a more willing or
motivated student of the unknown, than was Tay-nah.
Soon, when he ventured out, he was suitably equipped with various kinds of weapons,
most of which had been gathered from the huts of his people. A leather thong served as a stonehurling
sling. He had three atlatls and more than a dozen darts, had kept three fine spears for
himself and several razor-sharp axes and knives, expertly crafted from chert. He carried his
best spear as a walking stick, and he rigged his weapons together so that all could be dropped
quickly if he needed to climb a tree to safety. Had anyone been there to see Tay-nah, he would
have been quite a picture, striding along the river, decked out with his weaponry.
The Wolf
The time arrived when Tay-nah had seen thirty-two summers. Long since, he had
secured his food supply, learning what plants and fruits could be gathered and dried, and
through experimentation, how to properly smoke meat to a lasting cure. He would not starve.
He had been exploring the entire area for several years. He had traveled up and down the
valley, following the river, and clambered to the tops of the mountains to the south just to see
what lay beyond. At this point he knew where most of the animal trails, streams and waterfalls
were, and where the trails would take him. He knew the best places to hunt, and the safest
places along the river to bathe.
It was perhaps a trivial thing that set off a new series of events, seemingly insignificant
things that continued like falling dominoes on a tabletop. They would change his existence
completely.
One day, he had ventured into a small hollow formed by two converging hills. As he
walked carefully along a steep hillside, he saw a shadow move past his own on the rocks before
him. He looked up quickly, and saw the form of a great eagle soaring overhead. The eagle
screamed, and its shriek echoed from the hillsides. Tay-nah stopped, amazed. He'd never heard
a sound repeat itself. And so, to test the effect, he shouted. His deep, thunderous voice
reverberated for a long time.
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For the next several minutes, Tay-nah amused himself with the phenomenon,
experimenting with loudness, softness and variations in tone and frequency. It was the first time
he had ever truly heard himself, and he was impressed. He sounded even bigger than the way
he remembered the voices of his people! In fact, he would have been considered an impressive
baritone, had anyone been around to hear him.
After that day, Tay-nah became a lot noisier. When not hunting, he walked and talked,
speaking to himself in the tongue of his people. After a while, he got used to talking. He spoke
to the sky, he spoke to the birds. He knew he was being heard, because the sound of his voice
had caused grazing bison to stop and look his way. His voice made him something of a greater
presence in the area.
One night, Tay-nah lay awake, thinking and remembering his mother's singing. The only
sounds that had ever approached its beauty were some of the more beautiful of the bird songs.
He had to remember to try singing.
And so, the very next day, he did. He sang to the sky, he sang to the birds. He sang with
and without words, sometimes chanting, his big voice rising and falling, as if telling the tale of
the world's birth. But it was far from enough.
Tay-nah remembered that one of the things he had saved from the possessions of his
people, had been a bone flute. He retrieved it from his small stash of remembrances, and
examined it. Then, of course, he tested it.
This surprise was a negative one. For Tay-nah, it merely hissed, squeaked and
squawked. As he turned it over and examined it from all sides, he was puzzled, and the
expression of annoyance on his face reflected it. He couldn't get a note out of it, and yet, he
remembered the man who had once played it. The eldest of the adults, he was no longer a
hunter. This was without doubt the same flute. The old man had played it beautifully and long.
It was just another challenge for Tay-nah, and so far he had met them all. When he did finally
manage to get a sound out of it, it was quite by accident. He had decided to gather some fresh
greens to go with his supper, and had placed the flute between two rocks in the outer wall of his
small house. A gentle wind was blowing, and it startled him to hear a clear note coming from
the flute, just from the passage of the breeze. After some weeks, he was at last able to produce
enough of a range of notes to work out a tune, and before the snow flew once again, he was
fairly adept at playing it.
Now he had two new goals, rather than one. He wanted the flute to produce sounds that
were as intricate as some of the bird songs he'd heard, and also he wanted to make a flute of his
own, one with perhaps a deeper tone, capable of greater volume. Both were daunting tasks,
which was doubtless why he set about them. Within the first two months of winter, Tay-nah had
composed a full ten minutes of music that he was able to recall and repeat to perfection. It was
hauntingly beautiful and amazingly complex, and would have greatly impressed the old flute's
original owner. Tay-nah had set the bar quite high, and he had cleared it. The song was inspired
not just by the songs of birds, but also by his companion, the wind. The wind rose and fell and
changed in pitch, as did Tay-nah's composition.
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But, when spring came, he was still working on beginning to craft the new flute. The
bone he wished to use, he simply didn't have. All were either too short or too broad, and he
realized it would have to be dry before he could use it. He thought at last about creating a flute
from a hollowed branch. Surely one end could be plugged, or he could burn a hole in it from
one end. He selected a bit of harder wood and repeatedly set it afire, pushing the burning end
repeatedly into the center of a branch. It was in the middle of Tay-nah's thirty-third summer
when at last, his own flute was finished. After much experimentation, the result was exactly as
he had hoped, larger, deeper and fuller in tone, and he was able to play it with more volume.
Tay-nah began to play a song to the morning sunrise, to the wind when it was blowing,
and to the evening sun as it descended in the western sky. He had no idea that his music was
beginning to affect the wildlife in his vicinity. Had he been paying attention, he might have
noticed that the birds fell silent when he played. But the indication he couldn't ignore, the one
that finally got his attention, was the appearance of the wolf.
Commonly Tay-nah had only seen wolves in packs. He knew that a wolf driven off by
larger or younger males would be alone, but that hardly seemed likely. The animal he saw
standing fifty meters off was not an old animal, and it was the largest wolf he had ever seen. It
stood and watched as he played, motionless, the breeze ruffling his light gray, mottled fur.
Perhaps he thought Tay-nah might be his meal for today. “Suur-üks! Mida sa tahad?” (Big one!
What do you want?) The big wolf simply sat down, still watching Tay-nah. So, Tay-nah began
playing to the wolf. He thought of the wolves running, the wind streaming past them as they
flew across the meadows in search of game. The notes simply came, a song just for and about
the wolves. The big animal remained sitting, watching. So Tay-nah took a step toward it, then
another. As always, he had his razor-sharp knife in a leather sheath on his waist, and he had no
fear. But before he had advanced ten meters, the head of another wolf appeared from the bushes
behind the first, then another. The whole pack might have been there! And of course, it changed
everything. Tay-nah felt a chill climbing his spine, and he began to step backwards toward his
dwelling. But none of the wolves came forward.
The “dire wolf” of Tay-nah's time was one the megafauna species that would eventually
yield to the end of the Pleistocene. They were very large, big-boned and heavily muscled, with
extra-large incisors and exceedingly powerful jaws. Tay-nah was talented, intelligent, strong
and swift, but he was just a man, now looking squarely at three of them.
For the next few weeks, Tay-nah took extra precautions whenever he ventured out. He
was hardly defenseless, but he knew an attack by even one big wolf would be very deadly. The
attack of a pack of wolves could not be survived. And each morning the single wolf reappeared
and watched him play his flute. Tay-nah was intrigued, and he had to understand why. And so,
he began to experiment.
Cautiously scouting the area where the wolves had each appeared, he placed a strip of
cured meat a few meters closer to his home than the spot where the big wolf had been. Then he
returned to his house. The next morning, he came outside at the break of day, and began to play
his flute, as usual, watching for the wolf. He was about to get the surprise of his year.
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Tay-nah played, softly at first, then more loudly. He played the song he had composed
that was most beautiful, from beginning to end. For a moment, he lost himself, concentrating
on the music. And as he finished, he realized he had ceased to watch the area where he had seen
the wolf. He looked up for it, but it still wasn't there. Then, to his right, out of the corner of his
eye he noticed movement, and quickly turned his attention there. In the soft light of morning,
he realized the huge wolf was standing in an entirely new spot, not ten meters away! He was
indeed a huge wolf, but he was not snarling, not baring his teeth. The animal was in the open
and there were no others about. “Suur-üks. Tere.” ( Big One. Hello.) Tay-nah raised his flute
and resumed playing. To his amazement, the big animal sat down.
It was one thing to work each day to live through the next. Tay-nah had accepted his
way of life as necessary, even wonderful. But he had always been so very alone since the loss
of his people. And here, perhaps, was the possibility of a friend. It mattered little how unlikely
it seemed, or that it was probably very dangerous. He had to know. He placed his flute in its
spot between the rocks of the wall and went inside to get another strip of meat, carefully
closing the door behind him. But when he returned, the big wolf was gone.
It became a game, but each day, man and animal each knew a little more about the other.
The wolf watched Tay-nah's movements, his head sometimes tilting to one side. He marveled at
the sounds the man made with the instrument. The man marveled at the interest displayed by
this big predator, sitting dog-like and listening, apparently at ease. Tay-nah began talking to
him regularly. To him, the animal was Suur-üks, and he addressed him as such. The eyes of the
wolf were always fixed on him, and they looked so strange, so dangerous. Some days the
animal came a little closer, some days he stayed further away.
One day, Tay-nah stopped playing the flute, took a piece of meat he had at the ready, and
threw it toward the wolf. The animal seemed surprised, but did not move. After a few moments,
he walked over and smelled the gift, then looked up at Tay-nah. Tay-nah watched, but resumed
playing. The big wolf picked up the meat, walked a few paces further away and laid down like
a domesticated dog, to eat it. Obviously this human creature, the only one of its kind he had
ever seen, had no fear of him. It was the beginning of an unlikely friendship that brought man
and animal closer together with the passing of each month.
At times, Tay-nah watched the pack from a distance. He quickly realized Suur-üks was
the leader of his pack. He was the biggest and the dominant one, and he ruled. Game was
plentiful here and the pack did not hunger. And each day until the coldest months, Suur-üks
came around to listen to the sounds of the flute, and to receive his gift of smoked meat. In the
spring he returned, and the friendship resumed. Suur-üks began to pace along not far from Taynah
when he went hunting, although he continued to keep a distance between them.
But then, the change came. It was mid-summer, and Tay-nah had ventured out a short
distance from his dwelling. He was silently watching a deer from behind a shrub, preparing his
atlatl to cast a killing dart. Suur-üks watched with interest. He had seen the man kill before, and
he knew what was about to happen. Or at least, he thought he did. Instead, while hunting, Taynah
had become the hunted. A large lion was on a final approach among the craggy rocks just
10
above him. The sharp eyes of the wolf detected motion before the cat launched, a full fifteen
meters through the air to bury razor-sharp claws deep into the exposed back of Tay-nah. When
the lion sprang, Suur-üks was already in motion. Lion and wolf collided with tremendous force
within centimeters of Tay-nah's back, and they tumbled and rolled, locked in battle. To the great
cat, the attack by the wolf was a total surprise. The lion, though young, still outweighed the
hundred and forty kilogram wolf two-to-one. Nevertheless the fierceness and force of the
assault might have prevailed, but for the supreme agility of the cat. And the cat twisted in air to
land in a fighting stance, but could not manage it with the huge fangs of the wolf already deep
in its shoulder. Suur-üks' weight and powerful grip forced an uncontrolled landing with the lion
on its back. Tay-nah was surprised, but he did not hesitate. The lion was the enemy, not the
wolf! He lunged in with his spear, driving with the full weight of his body as he saw his
opening. The battle ended quickly, and Tay-nah, gripping the nape of the lion's neck to bury his
knife yet again, realized it was over. He dropped the lifeless head to the ground and looked
around for the great wolf.
The entire encounter had taken less than fifteen seconds. In that short time, a great cat
had been killed, a man's life had been saved by a wolf, and man and wolf had fought a common
enemy side-by-side, at last completing a bond that would never be broken.
Suur-üks and Tay-nah regarded one another with the deepest mutual respect, standing
then within two meters of one another. Tay-nah reached out a hand, but Suur-üks did not move.
He took a step closer to the wolf, and Suur-üks moved to step away, a natural response. Taynah
realized then that the big wolf had been hurt. Either fangs or claws had injured at least one
shoulder. To the leader of a wolf pack, it was sure death, and both of them knew it. Tay-nah
could not allow that. He would not.
Hunting was over for the day. The objective now was only to care for Suur-üks, and that
would not happen out here in the open. Would it happen at all? Could the big animal walk?
With some pain, with some effort, with a limp. Suur-üks could not travel on three legs because
both shoulders had been injured, although not so badly on his right.
Tay-nah looked the big wolf over from his distance of a meter and a half. Nothing else
appeared to be damaged. He sat down so the wolf might also. Suur-üks moved a bit closer and
gratefully collapsed to his belly.
Now Tay-nah would try to explain to his friend what he had to do. He told the wolf he
would feed him, and bring him water, and give him his bed. Suur-üks could heal, regain his
strength and return to his pack to reclaim his leadership. Of course Suur-üks understood not a
word of it, and Tay-nah knew it. But the soothing sound of his voice and the gentleness of his
words did serve to settle one thing for the big wolf. Tay-nah would not harm him.
At last, Tay-nah slowly rose, all the while speaking softly to the wolf. Then with
confidence and a quiet heart, he reached for Suur-üks. The animal did not flinch. Tay-nah
gently stroked the huge gray head, and just once, Suur-üks bared his monstrous fangs. Then, he
closed his lips. What would be the point? Seeing this, Tay-nah took heart, slid his arms beneath
the animal, and with mighty effort, lifted him to chest level. Then, he strode purposefully back
11
to his stone home, leaving his weapons behind him on the ground.
Arriving at his dwelling, Tay-nah gently lowered the big wolf and opened the door,
raising it high and propping it. Then, despite throaty objections from his guest, he carefully
boosted Suur-üks onto his bed, which was covered with the furry hides of various animals. As
he stepped back, Tay-nah made sure to step further inside, rather than to place himself between
the wolf and the door. He understood without anyone having to explain it, what a clear path to
the outside would mean to the wild animal he had just ventured to bring inside. But inside was
necessary, if he was to protect the wolf at night.
Tay-nah had but two pieces of pottery saved from the last encampment of his people.
One was a jar used to carry water, the other was a bowl. Now the bowl would belong to Suurüks.
He filled the bowl and placed it before the wolf, and cut some venison jerky that was
hanging from the ceiling, placing that before him, too. Then he reached for his flute and began
to play, softly.
Perhaps it was because it was so clear that he was being given the finest treatment by the
man-creature, perhaps it was because his muscles were stiffening and he would have had
trouble getting up to fight. Whatever the reasons, Suur-üks allowed himself to drift off to sleep.
Occasionally he would awaken and look around warily, remembering how it was that he was
here, in this place. He did not awaken when darkness fell, or when Tay-nah quietly lowered the
door for safety. He dreamed of the pack, of the hunt, of the sparkling river, of running through
meadows, of the bright days of summer.
The Valley of Death
For weeks, Tay-nah stayed at home attending to his friend, the great wolf. It was at once
a dependent tenancy and a tenuous dependency. Suur-üks accepted Tay-nah's grateful
hospitality because it was necessary. Tay-nah began to wish he'd made his dwelling a bit larger.
But the great beast had saved his life. If not for the wolf, his gnawed bones would be food for
mice at this moment. So twice a day, he lifted Suur-üks and took him outside to permit him to
do his business. It was obvious his wounds were healing, as the big wolf could stand and would
take small steps, but it was taking time. Had it taken years, Tay-nah would have been right
there to attend to Suur-üks. A few months would not matter.
It had taken but part of the second day of Suur-üks' absence from the pack for the
competition for leadership to begin. There would always be a leader, as long as there was more
than one wolf. Luckily for Tay-nah, it all occurred out of earshot of their dwelling. And it was
12
not over in a day; it was not over in a week. The battle for supremacy was fierce, the result of
each bloody fight, merciless. Wolves were killed, a few were driven off to make their own way.
For Suur-üks had been so clearly the most powerful among them, many younger and smaller
males had been unwilling to challenge and thus, were tolerated. Eventually, the choice was
made and the new leader was established. The pack was now twenty-one adults strong. It had
been twenty-six.
It was early that fall before the big wolf could rise, walk and move around at will. Taynah
had been worried about this stage. Should Suur-üks try to recapture his leadership too soon,
all of the effort to keep him alive would have been for naught. Suur-üks' inactivity and partial
recovery would have guaranteed it. But either Suur-üks understood that, or he just wasn't ready
to leave. He appeared to be settling in, lying beside Tay-nah whether he played his flute, slept,
or dressed the game he brought in.
Soon the weather would disallow hunting for several months. It was critical that food be
stored, and the smoking of meat went on continuously. As always, predators were drawn to the
smell of it. Tay-nah couldn't go out every day because of that, and he became worried that he
wouldn't be able to store enough to get the two of them through the winter before the weather
changed. Suur-üks puzzled as he watched Tay-nah counting on his fingers and staring outward
at the meadow and the sparse trees.
Tay-nah needn't have worried. Within another week, he was surprised to see Suur-üks
trotting, and within two, he was able to run. Would he be leaving soon? He didn't have to worry
about that yet, either.
Now when he went out to hunt, Suur-üks paced easily at his side, or he led, casting
about. At first Tay-nah thought the presence of the big wolf might make it difficult for him to
find game. How wrong was that idea! Suur-üks was like an early warning system. When he
stopped, there was something to see. Soon man and wolf began to communicate that way. Suurüks
either stopped if game was somewhere ahead, or if it was very close, he would return to
Tay-nah's side and sit down. If it was to either side of them, he would turn his body in that
direction and stop, looking at Tay-nah. Two things struck Tay-nah about it. First, he couldn't
believe how much game he had to have been missing before. Secondly, he couldn't believe the
distance from which the wolf could detect the presence of game. The hunt produced good meat
every time they went out, all a man could carry. Strings of jerky became the dense new ceiling
in the dwelling of Tay-nah. Soon he began work on a building extension, erecting three walls
around an additional food storage area. It was always best to have some reserve. The meat
smoking fires burned continuously.
Winter arrived, and Tay-nah was at last ready for it. Fuel wood was always as much a
priority as food, and stacks of it lined both leeward and windward sides of the dwelling. As
with every year, the stones had been re-chinked with riverbank mud. Suur-üks was about to
experience the most comfortable winter of his life. The big wolf had never shown any sign of
leaving, although he gazed continuously at the meadows and forests when he was outside. Man
and wolf bonded even further, as each now felt in some way dependent on the other. It was the
13
epitome of companionship. Still, Tay-nah couldn't quite accept his good fortune. The creature
was a wild animal, and he was still young. Perhaps this would only last the winter. He tried to
remember that when Suur-üks allowed him to stroke the coarse gray fur of his huge head.
And Tay-nah was right, Suur-üks was young. Sometime in about the middle of winter,
he took a hard look at his companion, and was sure the animal had gotten bigger. When he
stood, the top of his head was nearly even with the chest of Tay-nah! Surely this had to be the
biggest of all wolves! And surely, he was much safer with him than without, something that
was especially true when they were out and about.
The winter months passed easily, with the wind howling outside and the two
comfortable within. Tay-nah stitched together hides for clothing and played the flute, and both
man and beast dreamed of summer, and of the hunt.
Spring arrived earlier than usual, the snow pack diminishing quickly. It was good for all
of the species of wildlife in general, especially the wolves. If there is any time they will hunger
in a land of plenty, that time is winter. Less than two meters of snow will help them all winter
long, and as soon as the snow becomes shallow enough to allow them to run, they will hunger
no more.
Tay-nah had built on the far side of the river, away from the last resting place of his
people. There was a small plateau of higher ground near his new homesite from which he could
see much further, and the hillside also served as a shield from winter wind. Left alone with the
task of defending himself against predators, the nearby vantage point had seemed important.
And because he had encountered the great bear on the north side of the river, he had considered
this side to be preferable for his stone home. Today, it was possible the vantage point would
work against him. He and Suur-üks would be able to observe the passage of the wolfpack from
there.
With the coming of spring, Tay-nah had faced the facts once again. Although he was
mature and settled enough to handle whatever happened, he still dreaded the likely departure of
his companion. And in his own way, Suur-üks understood. He too knew his place, although he
had come to love this man-creature he now considered to be his own.
Both man and wolf were in for a big surprise, in fact, several of them.
It was also warm for a spring day, and it was early in the afternoon. Ascending the bank
of a small plateau to the higher ground, the two of them walked steadily. The wolf could have
made the climb at a run in four bounds, but he had learned to move more slowly for the sake of
his companion.
Upon reaching the plateau, the first surprise was already in view. Tay-nah gasped, and
Suur-üks' sharp eyes narrowed.
Tay-nah had not seen a herd of the great mastodon since the summer before the sickness
took the rest of his people. He hadn't really thought about the reasons why. They were too large
14
for him to hunt alone, and just one of them would have provided more meat than he could put
away before it spoiled, so it hadn't mattered to him. And now, here were six of them, wandering
placidly across the valley floor, moving in slowly from the southwest, stopping here and there
to consume the tender shoots of shrubs where they were found. Suur-üks was too young to have
ever seen one, as were all of the wolves alive in this valley.
The second surprise was less of one, and that was the appearance of the wolfpack. They
approached from the southeast and stopped, nosing the air, their heads bobbing and thrusting
like pistons. They loped about, casting from side to side, as if in conference. What were these
big creatures? The wolves understood quickly that they were prey, and soon all of them would
be streaking across the valley floor. Suur-üks lunged and stopped, lunged and stopped. He
should be a part of this. But it was not the time to assert his leadership. He might aid in the
attack, and then be killed by the pack itself. He knew that at this moment, he was still an
outsider. Tay-nah wrapped his fist into the thick fur on the back of his companion. “Ei,” he
urged, “ei!” Suur-üks understood that meant “no” and for the moment, he watched, torn, unsure
what to do.
The third surprise was just lumbering in from the northeast, right near Tay-nah's plateau.
Directly across from the approaching mastodon herd and at a right-angle to the wolves, a big
brown bear approached, its reddish-brown coat shining in the spring sun. It hadn't been long
out of hibernation, and it was hungry. It wouldn't have taken on a pack of dire wolves to get to
the mastodon, but that didn't stop it from being angry about the intrusion and the loss of a
chance to satisfy its hunger. Approaching from wooded land, the bear hadn't seen the wolves at
first. But now it saw them and heard them, and was not at all happy about their appearance.
The bear stopped, reared up on its hind legs and let go with its mightiest roar. It was a huge
bear for a brown, probably about four hundred kilograms of it, and it was mad as hell.
The wolves circled up for a moment and stopped, allowing the mastodon to turn and run.
The pot had been stirred. They had just resumed the chase when the final surprise appeared,
and all hell broke loose.
Sweeping in directly from the north and at more than twice the speed of the running
pack of dire wolves came the largest bear Tay-nah had ever seen. This one was no local brown
bear, but the feared giant short-faced bear, like the one with which he'd had the scrape in
darkness more than twenty years earlier. This was the reason for his stone house, and suddenly
he felt that no building could withstand an onslaught like the one that was underway, right
before his eyes. He gripped the mane of Suur-üks all the more tightly, both of them at full
attention, the big wolf stepping about with this front feet in anticipation. The bear was coming,
a freight train of mighty muscle and bone, a huge predator with gigantic head, fangs bared and
roaring. The mastodon closest to the big bear fell down while trying to turn too quickly, it's big
head bowing with fright. Its full height was about three meters when standing, and the
oncoming, long-legged monster predator was very nearly the same height at a full run. The bear
would have tipped scales at more than eleven hundred kilograms.
But that wasn't all.
15
Not far behind the galloping bear, came another. This one wasn't as big as the first, as it
was a female, no doubt the mate of the one that was rapidly closing on the fallen mastodon.
That meant there would be more, and that was very bad news indeed.
To Tay-nah and Suur-üks, it appeared that everything was happening at once. The
mighty predator could see that the pack of dire wolves had just reached the fallen mastodon,
and that the others of the herd had been spooked ahead of his charge, allowing them to begin an
escape to the nearby forest. The mastodon, trying very hard to rise, just knew it was all over for
him. The wolves knew they were in serious trouble and could no more than get turned around
to run before the monster arrived. There was no option but to stand and fight. The big reddishbrown
bear must have thought he was safely away, but he knew there was no food for him here,
yet. Maybe after the bigger carnivores had finished and left. He turned to leave. It was too late.
The current terror of the earth was all of three times hell and on fire, and he only paused
at the fallen mastodon long enough to swipe four of the wolves away. And that was all it took
for each, a swipe. That quickly, the rest of the wolves were running for all they could go from
where they had come. Three dire wolves lay dead and one was dying, and the monstrous bear
was tearing across the open turf toward the brown. He never touched the mastodon, which had
finally regained its footing and had taken a half-step toward the forest. At that moment, the
second giant bear turned a shoulder and ran straight into it with full body weight at speed,
knocking it flat. Then it was over for the mastodon. The female short-face slashed open the
throat and began to feed.
The big brown's position so close to the plateau made the full-bore charge of the monster
look more than a little daunting. The man felt the wolf crouch a little, and he knew they should
leave and head for the relative safety of the stone hut. If four bounds would have gotten the
wolf up the hill to the plateau, then for the short-face, it might have been one. But neither man
nor wolf could tear themselves away from the scene.
Of course it was probably useless that the big brown tried to defend itself, and it might
seem to be senseless for the short-faced bear to have attacked. But this was how the giant bears
had always subsisted. Kill it if it's competition. Kill it if it's not. Then, eat it. And that's what
happened, right before the eyes of the astounded man and wolf. The huge brown turned and
reared up for battle, but was instantly knocked flat on its back. It never so much as raked claws
against his assailant, for it didn't get the chance. The monster completed the kill and began
devouring it.
It didn't take the giant short-face long to realize that his mate had the better meal,
somewhere behind him. The open meadow where all of it had taken place was less than half a
kilometer square, and she was feeding just past the center of it, from the north. He turned and
ambled back to join her. As he approached the fallen mastodon, Tay-nah learned just how
vicious was the species. The smaller female attacked the male, raking him with her claws,
snapping at him with her fangs. He sullenly stood back, sniffing and pushing around the bodies
of the dead wolves, until she was done. Then as she moved away, he went in to finish satisfying
his hunger.
Above the scene on the plateau, man and wolf turned their heads and looked at one
another.
The Plan
Tay-nah and Suur-üks had returned to their stone dwelling and had closed the door
snugly, barring it from inside. Of course, they couldn't stay there. Tay-nah had taken care to
cautiously fill the water jar, as well as the skin that he took along whenever he'd gone hunting.
He'd brought in extra armloads of wood, and they had plenty of food. But with predators like
that in the valley, it seemed unlikely he would remain safe long enough to see his thirty-fifth
summer. He would have to hunt to survive, and the water would only last a day or two. Man
and wolf watched the fire, and Tay-nah thought.
He considered that his people had moved into this valley while knowing of the presence
of such beasts at that time. The thought sparked two emotions in him, respect, and hope. The
respect for his people had always been there, but it was elevated a few levels that day. Such
bravery! Even if it may have been a bit foolish. Perhaps this beast was bigger and more
ferocious than anything his people had seen. The hope came from the fact that at least one of
the beasts had been here when he was but a boy, and he hadn't seen another for more than two
decades. Perhaps they moved with the mastodon as had his people, and the arrival of the small
herd was the reason they were here now. But, surely, as voracious as the creatures seemed to
be, it wouldn't be long before the few mastodon that were here would be gone as well. Would
the short-faced bears move on, in search of other mastodon herds? Or would the demise of the
remaining few mastodons simply make it impossible for the other species that lived here, to
survive in this place? Either was possible, but the presence of a breeding pair of the giant bears
made the second possibility seem more likely.
The two spent the rest of the day and that night indoors, each grateful for the company
of the other. Tay-nah already knew he wouldn't be relocating. The invading predators moved as
well, and they moved much faster. It was as safe here as anywhere, unless he moved a great
distance. This valley wasn't just Tay-nah's home, it was also home to Suur-üks. Things in this
wilderness, in any wilderness, have a way of working themselves out. In their own way, each of
the occupants of the stone dwelling knew and appreciated the fact. They both slept soundly.
The coming of a new day brought new hope with it. Tay-nah resolved to go about
business as normally as possible, venturing out to refill his water jar and to see what he could
see. When he and Suur-üks climbed the bank to the plateau, there were no new surprises. The
wolf-pack had gathered at the remains of the big brown bear and were eating voraciously. The
animal hadn't been half-eaten, and there was a lot of meat there for them. Tay-nah shushed
Suur-üks, and hoped it would be enough to keep him quiet. The big wolf stood and watched.
He hadn't known hunger for quite some time.
16
The mighty roar they all heard from a distance probably meant the kill of another of the
mastodons was underway. All of the wolves stopped and gazed across the meadow, as the
sound had come from the forest on the far side of it. If the bears limited themselves to one kill a
day, that could mean they might have another five days before the giant beasts came looking
for something else to eat. Then again, they might not.
Tay-nah noted the absence of bird songs, something he would have expected to hear this
time of year. There was a new tentative air everywhere about them, and the birds were aware of
it. The vultures, busy in the meadow where the mastodon had fallen the day before, were the
few that didn't seem to mind.
Remembering the discussions around the council fires of long ago, Tay-nah recalled the
several conversations about these creatures. Some had believed they could be killed by digging
a pit and covering it. The roof over the pit would be at ground level, the approach to it left
clear. The vicious bears were unafraid to move about in the open and would take the easiest
path. The great weight of the bears would collapse the man-made ceiling, dropping the bear to
its death upon sharpened stakes. Some thought it would work as it had with ordinary bears, but
others dismissed it. They had no means of digging such a deep hole in this rocky ground. If
they did and a bear fell into it, what about a second bear? And yet, no one had any better ideas.
If the plan meant moving the village to a place where a trap could be dug, they would do it.
That was the conclusion reached right before the winter when disease struck, and took them all.
Today, Tay-nah could see another flaw in the plan. If the bear ran as he'd seen it run, it
would be over the trap before it collapsed. Any other means he could imagine had no chance of
working. He and Suur-üks together would never be able to fend off an attack by the wolfpack,
and the wolfpack was no match for a giant bear. Avoidance was his only hope of survival, until
the bears decided to leave.
Thus a new idea sprang forth in the desperately crafty imagination of Tay-nah. It was
one that his people would have dismissed, of that he felt sure. If the giant bears were here
following the mastodon, perhaps the way to move the predator was to move the prey. If it was
possible, he had but a day or two to accomplish it. The idea would be to drive the great beasts
through the gap in the mountains and into the next valley. If the giant bears would kill the other
species after the mastodons, at least it would take some time until the game was depleted there.
It might give him time to think of something else. The forest where he'd heard the roar today
was upriver. He would prepare today, and set out tomorrow. That was his plan. But like the
brown bear that had meant to defend itself, he wouldn't get the chance to try.
My Father's Spear
17
The new morning was as beautiful as any Tay-nah had ever seen. It was all the sweeter
because he expected it would probably be his last. If he would be trying to move the great
mastodons through the gap, there was also an excellent chance he would be killed by the great
bears instead. He decided to leave without his usual complement of food and water. The less he
took with him, the faster he could move.
Suur-üks watched Tay-nah quizzically as he made his final preparations to leave. Surely
the man wasn't going to go on a hunt today. He had laid all of his weapons out on the bed,
something he'd never done before. Then he had put his knife on his belt like always, and had
placed all three of his spears in the open doorway. And strangely, he hadn't bothered to put the
other weapons away.
Tay-nah picked up his best spear, taking it from its place against the doorway and held it
out to show to his companion. “Suur-üks. Oda minu isa,” he explained. (My father's spear.) It
was the same spear he had held at the doorway to the hut for protection, when he first found
himself alone. It was his pride to own, and with it, he had killed more game than with the
others together. It was the spear that had visited death on the lion that had meant to kill them
both. Today, it might pierce the thick hide of a great bear, if only to at last inflict some pain on
an animal that had never known any. If he was successful, it would prod the posteriors of some
even bigger animals in an effort to move them. But he expected even that task would be far less
difficult than the one he was about to handle.
Beckoning to Suur-üks, Tay-nah walked toward the plateau. The big wolf followed
willingly as Tay-nah broke into a run. The two of them bounded up the hillside and onto the flat
top overlooking the big meadow. Again, Suur-üks looked at his companion quizzically. He
knew something was different.
As Tay-nah had dared to hope, it was the right time. Wolves were visible in the meadow
below, moving toward them, pacing their way along as a group. There would never be a better
time. There might never be another chance. Here was a guarantee of continued life for his
companion. Suur-üks was once again as strong as he'd ever been, and was obviously even
larger than when he'd been injured. He would surely re-take his place of leadership. Tay-nah
knelt. The big animal was so high at the shoulder, he had to reach upward from his kneeling
position to wrap his long arms around the wolf's neck. It was something he'd never done before,
and suddenly Suur-üks understood. This was good-bye. Tay-nah, still kneeling, pointed outward
at the wolfpack. “Minema!” (Go!)
Suur-üks nearly bolted, but the bond was too strong for that. He truly wanted to rejoin
the pack. But he did not, did not want to leave the man. He looked at the wolfpack, he looked at
Tay-nah, then back at the wolfpack. He exclaimed, like a huge dog that didn't want to be given
a bath. Tay-nah stood up, and instantly, the big wolf rose up on hind legs and put his paws on
Tay-nah's shoulders. Tay-nah smiled, laughed and stroked the furry head of his great
companion. Then he told him again. “Minema.”
Suur-üks went, and he didn't look back. Down over the bank he bounded, on his way back to
the life he'd once known.
18
Tay-nah didn't look after him. He wiped away a single tear and headed slowly back
down the side of hill, to collect his spears. Then he would be on his way.
Only moments after Tay-nah stepped from the hillside onto level ground, his blood
curdled at the sound of the oncoming roar of the great bear, shaking the branches of trees
around him. No doubt about it, the roar was coming right toward him, and that meant, so was
the bear! The obvious choice was to get into the hut and close the door. He could manage that.
In half a dozen bounds he was at the door, picking up the spears from the doorway, preparing to
dive inside. He wouldn't be putting them all down. Not here, and not yet!
He could see about a hundred meters through the small trees, past the base of the plateau
toward the meadow. There before him was the single thing he had not expected! Suur-üks! The
big wolf was flattened out running, his ears back, flying as fast as his powerful legs could carry
him, but quickly closing the gap between them, was the bigger of the two giant bears! Suur-üks
was without doubt faster than any of the other wolves, but Tay-nah could see it wouldn't be fast
enough. Suur-üks would not make it.
Tay-nah did not hesitate for even a split-second. Bellowing at the top of his lungs and
finishing in a scream, Tay-nah lept forward with two of his spears, one in each clenched fist,
certain of death and determined to draw blood on his way to it!
Never in the history of man had any man experienced the rush of adrenaline that Taynah
now received. The primal drive to kill was backed up by more brute strength than any man
had ever been given. And Tay-nah ran, as fast as he could move, straight toward the great bear,
without a scrap of fear or any notion at all of consequence. The objective was to meet the
monster on its own terms, and to drive his father's spear deep into it! Anywhere, as long as it
was deep. Denied the blood of the beast by the swipe of a paw? Ha! Not today!
The monster was so intent on flattening the puny wolf in front of him that he never
noticed the man running toward him. Suur-üks did, and that meant the game had changed. He
had been as sure as was the man that he would meet death, and all that was left to do was to
bolt. But the sight of Tay-nah running to his aid was the sure signal that there would first be a
fight. The beast could kill Suur-üks but could not be allowed to kill the man, and he would not
just run any more. Just as Tay-nah was about to reach his side, he whirled and bared his huge
fangs, ready to kill!
The beast had been a half-step away from treading on the wolf, certain death for him.
The sudden whirl spun the wolf to one side, and the great paw came down barely missing the
head of Suur-üks. In a flash the bear skidded to a stop, only then noticing the man that had just
arrived and that was now running beneath his great chest.
As he reached the bear, Tay-nah tossed a spear aside and roared again, brought up from
the bottoms of his pounding feet and bellowing forth, surprising the huge animal. Gripping his
father's spear in both powerful hands, he ran beneath the chest of the bear to deliver it with all
of his might. The bear had no idea what had just come underneath him, and he didn't want it
there. His posterior was nearly on the ground because of the sudden stop, his big chest high off
19
of the ground, and he suddenly felt pain. The wolf was ripping at his lower foreleg, something
was tearing at his rear, and whatever was beneath him was making a terrible sound that he'd
never in his life heard before...he had to get up, get his backside off the ground and kill these
puny things! With a mighty and terrible roar, the great bear stood up!
For just a moment, time stood still. In that moment, only two things moved. The spear
that had already entered the chest of the great bear had struck bone, and Tay-nah had been
unable to drive it home. But the rising of the great bear's posterior had lowered his chest as
well. It had pinned the spear to the earth, and the earth did not move out of the way, nor did the
hardened shaft of the spear buckle and break. Instead, the razor-sharp spearhead of chert
slipped past the bone and went precisely where Tay-nah had endeavored to put it. Time began
to move once again, and Tay-nah, still beneath the bear and seeing the spear had gone further,
gripped it with both hands and boosted it upward with all of his considerable strength, twisting
the shaft as it rose. That mighty shove drove his father's spear clear through the great bear's
gigantic heart, ripping a hole as broad as the spear point.
So complete was the surprise of the monster that now, roaring even more loudly in a
higher pitch, it stood on both hind legs and reached for the sky, meaning to shed whatever had
penetrated its chest. But as it had been for the big brown bear, it was too late. The huge claws
reached a height of more than seven meters.
When the great front legs of the bear came up, Suur-üks was tossed aside like a gnawed
bone. Tay-nah lunged to get clear, and in a single move, rolled and picked up the second spear,
waiting for the beast to come down so he could deliver that one as well. At that moment he saw
the entire wolfpack, now gathered behind the great bear. Now he was faced with yet another
threat to his life, or so he thought. But the wolves scarcely mattered, for the moment. As the
great bear thundered to the rocky surface, Tay-nah followed up with a powerful, leaping,
hands-on driving thrust of the spear into the neck of the bear, just behind the head. Suur-üks
had gathered himself up and had nearly gotten too close before the bear dropped, and now was
ripping into the bear's neck from the other side, tearing away the thick fur in the quest for
blood. The big wolf's body bounced with the trembling of the bear's death throes. Tay-nah
extracted the spear from the great neck and took a harder look at the pack of wolves. None
were advancing.
And so, Tay-nah, now in his glory and still flush with adrenalin, raised the spear high
with both arms straightened, and bellowed their victory to the sky. Suur-üks saw, heard and
agreed, bringing up his deep, throaty howl from the bottom of his dire wolf heart. The roar of
the man and the howl of the great wolf were immediately joined by the entire wolfpack. A sight
and sound like this one had never before been seen or heard by anyone anywhere, and never
would be again.
What Tay-nah didn't know and would never know, was what had happened before the
bear appeared so close to his home. Suur-üks had immediately reached the pack, and the
wolves had stopped. Pleasantries were being exchanged in classic dire wolf style, a nose or two
had met, and others of the wolves had snarled their objections. No doubt a fight was coming
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up, one that Suur-üks would surely win, and all of them knew it. But just then, the bear had
come charging out of the trees where it had been waiting for the pack to reach him. The great
carnivore felt like a snack, and had ventured away from his cranky mate for a while. Suur-üks
immediately gave everything for the pack, just as he would have done as its leader a year
earlier. He ran toward the big bear and then circled in front of it to draw it away. The bear
decided to crush the audacious wolf, and bore down on it to kill. Suur-üks headed for home,
because the stone dwelling was the only place he knew of that might be safe. In truth he had
hoped his speed would be enough to outdistance the monster, but that was not possible. The
pack had come running along behind, stupidly thinking that satisfying their curiosity was more
important than accepting the gift of life their true leader had offered them. This time, it had
worked out.
Perhaps if their highly intelligent leader had remained with the pack, there would be dire
wolves in the wilds of North America today. But he didn't, and there aren't. Because the choice
was now clear. If Suur-üks didn't stay with Tay-nah and take care of him, who would? The poor
senseless man could walk right past a big jackrabbit, and never catch the scent!
Tay-nah, who was no longer twenty summers old, would pay for his greatest of all
exertions the next day. Every muscle in his body ached, and soon, the unbelievably huge body
of the great bear would begin to smell like what it was - an unbelievably huge carcass. The
work required to cut up and to move that carcass was just about dead-even with the effort
required to pack up and move, and to build a home somewhere else. Tay-nah decided to stay,
but during the course of the job, he nearly changed his mind several times. Recovering his
father's spear was the deciding factor.
The valley never again saw the female short-face. She had heard the shrieking death-roar
of her mate, and decided it wasn't something she wanted to investigate. His failure to return to
her was proof enough of his demise. Anything powerful enough to kill him would surely do the
same to her. She waited in the forest for a day, then moved westward in search of more food,
and a new mate.
Noting that he wasn't getting any younger, Tay-nah decided it would be a good thing to
re-visit the graves of his people. There would be no one around to bury him properly when he
died, that was true. Just the same, if they were watching him from somewhere, he didn't want
them to think he didn't remember, or care about them.
So later that year, Tay-nah called to Suur-üks, and they crossed the river together
through the shallows. They did so each fall after that, on the day of the first snow. They walked
to the stone mounds, Tay-nah added a few more rocks to each, and then built a small fire
among them. Then he played his best music as respectful homage, a full ten minutes of it.
Suur-üks and Tay-nah enjoyed a companionship unlike any that had come before or has
ever occurred since. Neither was the master; neither was the pet. And in ways that could never
be fully understood or appreciated by most modern humans, they were one with the earth,
living and savoring each day in anticipation of the next. Fearlessly they went where and when
they pleased, seeking adventure and finding it, in daylight and by the light of the moon, always
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together. Tay-nah sensed the turning of the planet and marveled at the apparent movement of
the heavens beyond. From time to time, his companion raised his mighty voice in recognition
of his heritage and proclaimed it, his counterparts replying with respectful hellos from
elsewhere in the great valley. To the pair, this, in fact, was heaven.
When Tay-nah had seen his forty-sixth summer, he was older than most of his ancestors
had ever lived to be. And Suur-üks at that point in his life was quite elderly, having outlived
every one of his ancestors. The mighty wolf at last quietly passed away in his sleep. Tay-nah
didn't grieve, because in his heart of hearts, he knew that leaving this life was not the end. His
mother had told him that, and his mother knew these things. So he put his flute in its place
between the rocks of the outer wall, laid down beside his beloved companion and drifted off to
sleep. Sometime during that very night, his spirit found the spirit of Suur-üks, and the two
bounded off across the meadows together, once again.
Outside, the breeze lifted and the wooden flute sounded, the notes rising and falling in
the swirling, varying flow of the oncoming air. From the next world, Tay-nah listened, and he
smiled. On laul tuul.
The Song of the Wind.
*********
copyright 2013 Benjamin Trayne
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