Another reason to find a tribe.
I stretch my arms above my head and yawn. I scratch at my stomach for a moment as I watch Beh and Lah by the fire, making breakfast. Lah’s hair is lighter than Beh’s—almost like mine—and it is long enough to cover her shoulder blades now. I would like to watch them all morning, but I need to go outside to relieve myself.
I urinate into the ravine and think about how lucky I am to have Beh, Lee, and Lah. Even though I have tried over and over again, I have not managed to put another baby inside of Beh. I wonder now if we will be able to make any more. She does not have bleeding times, which is nice because she never makes me wait, but it doesn’t seem right for a woman as young as she is.
Still, both of our children have lived past toddler age, which doesn’t always happen. Neither of them has fallen sick, and they are both strong.
I yawn again, scratch the stubble on my chin, and wrap my fur back around me to ward off the morning chill. I walk slowly back to the front of the cave, inhaling the clear, fresh air and listening to the sounds of birds. They remind me that we will be able to hunt for eggs not too long from now, and Lee loves to climb the trees.
“Lee!”
My son beams at me as I enter the cave, makes sounds at his mother, and then grabs the small spear I made for him. He is still young for hunting larger animals, but I know he wants to try, and we need the meat. The spring plants are still hard to find, and I’m tired of rabbit.
Lah makes gruff noises at her brother and Beh, but Beh responds loudly, and Lah grumbles as she sits next to the fire and begins to fiddle with fresh grasses. She’s been weaving new mats and has already surpassed her mother’s skills. Lee follows me out of the cave, his sounds diminishing quickly.
He doesn’t make noises when his mother and sister are not near us, which I like.
We travel up the cliff to the high steppes. The wind blows much harder here, and I wrap my fur a little tighter around my shoulders as we walk toward the area where I spotted the antelope herd the day before. Lee walks silently behind me as we move through the grass to the far side. It takes some time to reach the area since the herd has moved to fresher ground.
We find a group of rocks and crouch behind them to watch the herd. There are a few pregnant females but no young for us to hunt yet. Lee begins to fidget as I watch the movements of the animals, and I place my hand on his leg to still him. I point across the field toward a single female who has walked away from the herd. As we watch her, she approaches a large puddle of melted snow to drink.
I think it will be a good place to dig a pit trap, but we will have to wait until the herd moves away. I know Lee will be disappointed, but we won’t be able to start until nightfall. I decide to head back home to eat. We will return later.
Before I manage to stand up to go back to the cave, the herd begins to move toward us. I glance across the field just as several of the antelope begin to run away from the large puddle and the lone female. She raises her head, but before she has a chance to run, men appear with spears in their hands and surround her.
Lee makes a sound, and I quickly place my hand over his mouth to silence him.
I narrow my eyes to focus across the field and watch as the men close the gap around the animal. She panics and runs to try to get between them, but they stab at her with their spears, and she falls to the ground. A large man with dark, curly hair moves closer and plunges his spear into the animal’s neck.
I look to my son and wish he had stayed back at the cave. I don’t know how safe it is for him to be around unknown people. I would rather approach them alone to determine if they are friendly, but with the amount of time it would take me to return Lee to the cave, they could be gone.
Other men join the one who killed the antelope. There is a younger, light-haired man and another with dark hair like the first. All of them drop down to the ground near the beast and begin to strip the animal of its flesh.
I startle as my son grabs my arm. He points across the field, and I follow the direction with my eyes. Coming from the opposite end of the steppes is a group of women and children. One of the women is very tall—almost as tall as the men—with bright yellow hair, while another is small and dark. An older man and woman, also with light-colored hair, trail behind. Finally, a young, brown-haired woman brings up the rear of the group. Each of the women holds a small child in her arms.
My family needs a tribe.