The Index -|-

Kpleeb groaned and lifted his head. It was still dark, and he heard the nearby snoring of a caveman. Kpleeb’s neck ached from where he had slept slumped against the rough pole that he was bound to and partially supported by the rough, woven cord. His wrists tingled, and so he wriggled his hands in an effort to restore some blood flow. The benefit was minimal, at best. Numerous cuts and wounds were portrayed on his body as though a mad painter had lost control with a bucket of red and black. He winced as he leaned his head against the pole.

[I hope Thoka is okay. I should have been more careful. What will she do without me?]

Kpleeb had not seriously thought about other tribes or peoples that might populate this place, where, or how strong they might be. He did think of those things now, but it was too late. He took inventory of his wounds. The knot on his head throbbed gently, and he assumed that it would go away in a few days. His heels were sore and bruised from being dragged. He did not remember that part, of course, on account of the stick that had knocked him out and caused the headache that now pained him. He looked around and could see the faint shadow of the closest hut.

The caveman that now slept had been one of the few that was assigned to extract information from Kpleeb. He was a brutal and angry caveman. And he smelled terrible. Yesterday, when Kpleeb had regained consciousness, he had been already tied to the pole that was located in the center of the village. Cavemen, cavewomen, and cavechildren surrounded him at various distances. All of the children were naked and filthy. They scampered around excitedly and watched as the warriors tore away Kpleeb’s loincloth. The older children had thrown small stones at him and laughed in an odd, high-pitched warble.

Cavewomen dressed only in skin loincloths stood in the back and whispered together while they watched as the cavemen began to question him. Once he had awakened, Kpleeb had stood slowly under his own power and gritted his teeth against the pain. His intention had been to speak and reason with the group, but a few of the cavemen began beating him immediately. They did not ask him any questions or seek any answers.

“Stop!” grunted Kpleeb. “Why are you hurting me?”

His words were ignored. A hairy caveman foot connected with Kpleeb’s hip and shoved him backward into the pole. The wood was very rough, and Kpleeb felt the skin abrade on his shoulder. The kick was followed by a fist to the side of his head. It was a glancing blow, but his vision swam. The blows fell quicker as others joined in, and the sounds of flesh hitting flesh, Kpleeb’s labored breathing, and cries of pain drowned out the murmuring crowd.

Kpleeb could not withstand the onslaught. He fell to his knees and then was able to curl his legs in front of him. With his hands tied behind his back around the pole, the cavemen kicked and punched him until he lost consciousness.

That was yesterday. Now, he was awake again, and it was dark and cool. The early morning air caressed his skin, and though the dull pain hovered behind the sensation, he breathed deeply and enjoyed the peace. He had no idea why they would attack him, and he was afraid.

[I did not fight back. How could I? Maybe I trespassed.]

He remembered tales of raiding parties on the tundra. It was said that many cavemen had fallen and some were taken prisoner. As a cavechild Kpleeb had never been sure why the raids happened, but he had asked his Da when he got a little older.

“Bad caveman come. They watch and steal. We war and kill. They no come again.”

His Da had never looked more serious, but the explanation had fallen short for Kpleeb at the time. As he grew older, he saw the actions of his own tribe, became familiar with the ebb and flow of conflict and peace between the tribes. Looking back, he could now pinpoint nuance that he had been oblivious to then. Now he finally understood.

[I wonder if I now understand because I was altered? Maybe every caveman is the same through all of time? People fear what they do not know. There is no trust, and so they strike first… But why would they beat me without asking questions? Maybe they are cannibals? – I hope not.]

Kpleeb sighed and tugged at the rope on his wrists. It was no use. He could do nothing but wait, endure, and hope that Thoka had not been captured as well.

The sun rose slowly above the trees and huts that were in front of him. It was quite beautiful. Shades of deep red blossomed and transformed into brighter, more golden tones that pierced the canopy and warmed his face. The sky progressed from midnight to a friendly, pale blue that promised beautiful weather. Kpleeb enjoyed every second, but his dread grew as well. He feared this new day would extend the torture of yesterday.

Soon, there was a trickle of people. They came and went, first one hurrying for a morning urination. Then two, three, five more. Cavechildren strolled awkwardly out from the doors of huts sporting sleepy eyes and matted hair. They stretched and started scurrying about quickly as soon as they remembered the naked stranger tied up in the village circle. The men followed with well-rested swaggers that implied strength and boasted of future beatings for anyone who dared cross their path.

Kpleeb watched the crowd gather, and as he heard the coarse muttering, he was reminded again of the changes he had gone through in the twin caves. He remembered who he had been and how he had once spoken.

“I not want to fight,” said Kpleeb haltingly as he looked up at the burly caveman who was clearly a leader of some sort.

“You bad fighter,” the caveman grunted. “Even Joop win fight with you.” He pointed at a scrawny caveman with a spotty beard and concave chest. “Why you here? What you want with Canyon River land?” The big caveman crossed his arms, and his peck muscles bounced impressively.

Kpleeb nodded. “I am Kpleeb. I run from bad tribe.” He pointed toward the canyon. “Above canyon.”

“You are spy!” the caveman snarled. “You lie. You come steal and watch for war. Canyon River tribe is strong warrior and not stupid.” He shook his head and scoffed as if Kpleeb had embarrassed him.

“No,” said Kpleeb. “Not lie. I want to live. Bad caveman want to kill me.” He hung his head with a mixture of false weakness and legitimate frustration.

[It’s no use. These people are too embedded in their ways.] His head hurt, and he was so thirsty.

“I need water. Please.”

The big caveman laughed loudly and pointed at Kpleeb. “Weak caveman need water. HA!”

An older cavewoman stepped up and spoke quietly. “Molk, give man water. If he dies, Qui will be angry.”

Molk glared at the woman. “Qui not want warrior to be weak. Qui not want cavechildren to die from outsider.”

The cavewoman nodded. “You give him water. You look for more caveman spy. If find more,” she pointed at Kpleeb with her knuckle, “come kill this one.”

Molk nodded gruffly and growled. He pulled a large, stone knife from his waistband and roughly slashed the rope that held Kpleeb’s hands. Molk and another of his bulky brethren grabbed Kpleeb. Each took an arm and a leg and carried him past the outer ring of huts to the river where they threw him into the fast-running water at the edge.

Kpleeb gasped as he splashed into the chilly water and then grunted as he hit the rocks below. He flailed his arms and righted himself then sat on his haunches. The cold water exasperated his wounds, but he was grateful for the numbness that quickly followed. The water that flowed toward him was clear, but it became cloudy with dirt and blood as it passed his beaten body.

The crowd had followed the men to the river and stood watching. All of the warriors were laughing boisterously and clapping each other on the back. “Good water!” yelled Molk. “Drink, weak one!”

Kpleeb did drink, and it was good water indeed. He bathed himself carefully, and wondered if he could get his loincloth back. Being a caveman, he was used to loincloths and the ways that breezes, water, and gravity occasionally introduced an unexpected view of stranger’s private anatomy. That being said, his mam had taught him that the loincloth was what separated caveman from animal. He felt funny without it.

Molk approached. “You come back now.” He reached down and grasped Kpleeb’s arm and began to lift him.

Kleeb cried out. “Ow! My arm hurts!” Then he saw the older woman gesture to a group of women and say something that he could not hear.

“You weak goat sak,” said Molk. He slapped the back of Kpleeb’s head with a muskrat-sized hand and then jerked Kpleeb’s arm to pull him along. Kpleeb’s battered legs wanted to hobble slowly, but Molk’s size and strength brought them quickly back to the pole. There Kpleeb was unceremoniously bound again. He hunched on the ground and waited for the next indignity to fall upon him.

Molk and a few of the other cavemen crowded around and began to make plans to search the trail again. Their conversation was accentuated with wide sweeps and thrusts of the hands. A few of the cavemen shook their heads in disagreement and pointed east toward the rising sun. As they spoke, a girl approached Kpleeb from behind and shoved a piece of tuber into his face.

“Eat,” she said. Her eyes flitted nervously toward the group of cavemen.

Kpleeb ate the tasteless, mushy tuber and stared at the girl. She appeared to be a little younger than him. Her hair was dirt brown and straggly. She had a pointy chin, high cheekbones and full lips. What caught Kpleeb’s attention was her eyes. They were green and curious. Most of all, she did not look at him with hate or disgust. Her eyes examined him and gathered information.

“I am Kpleeb,” he said, trying to gesture with his bound hands.

“Bre– You take.” She tossed his loincloth into his lap and continued looking at his body.

Kpleeb chewed for a few seconds and continued to look at her. “Thank you.”

A hefty palm abruptly cuffed Bre on the head. “No food,” yelled Molk. “He spy. Go!” He pointed toward the group of women that crowded around one of the reed huts.

Kpleeb watched Bre flee. [Well, she is quite nice. The food could be better though.]

As he was distracted, the same wide hand made a fist and clubbed his jaw with a terrible jolt. The world spun underneath him. His vision dulled and then brightened. He saw the sky and Molk’s silhouette rotate. Just as he felt the dirt on his cheek, his sight went black.

The Index -|-

Thoka rested in the sun. Though the climate in this place was cool – at least at the moment – she was comfortable in the sun. She scooted down to sit on a pile of leaves and rested against the larger stone. After a few minutes the breeze, trickling water, and sunlight put her to sleep.

Clouds rolled in and covered the river. It boiled with a severe turbulence and became a denser fog. The river still made its muted sounds, and there were the sounds of distant branches swaying in the wind. Thoka looked up from her work and took notice.

[I must finish this rod. Time for searching later.]

She bent her head and saw the partially finished rod in her hand. Its base was made of stone shaped into a sort of loop-handle. Three tiny fragments of stone protruded from the edge away from her hand. The first one was about the thickness of one of Thoka’s fine, pale hair. The second one was a little thicker, and the third was as thick as a tundra-wheat stalk. The thicker rod was bent at a ninety-degree angle a finger’s length from the base. The thin rods each had their own unique curves, the first as a sinuous line that approached but did not touch the thick rod and the second with a series of sharp angles that encircled the first and thinnest rod.

Thoka nodded. There was a deep part of her that sensed the structure in this design. Energy ebbed from the rod in long and slow waves. She held the rod up to the sun and the clouds gave way to let the sun shine onto the rod. It glistened as if covered in the morning’s dew. She felt a light flutter as the baby kicked.

“Okay, little one,” she sing-songed quietly. Her hand absently caressed her belly as she examined the rod.

The lowered her hand and the fog swirled around it. It had not been that close before, at least, she did not think it had been. She raised her hand in front of her and the fog parted again. Directly in front of the rod was a tunnel that penetrated the fog. Through the tunnel she could see the other side of the river. The trees there were as clear as day and their boughs gentle swayed in the sun. A bird chirped happily and took flight from one of the branches.

[This must be a… No don’t say it!] She shook her head and focused on the tunnel. [What does it mean?] The tunnel simply moved with the rod. [Simply.] She chuckled at the word. Her hand twisted, but she saw no change. Something inside compelled her to believe that there was more to this moment than she could understand. She heard a rustle nearby, and her focus shifted from the tunnel. She peered over her shoulder, but the fog prevented her from seeing the source.

The rustle grew louder, closer. It sounded as if there were feet on dried leaves. Many feet. These were the footsteps of careless walking with no attempt as stealth. Thoka dropped the rod and swiveled to grab the knife that was near her feet.

Her head jerked as she awakened and it sharply struck the rock that she had rested against. “Ow!” she cried out. She put her fingers on the back of her head gingerly and felt a knot growing.

“Curse these dreams,” she muttered to herself.

Thoka held her breath and listened. There were no footsteps. The only dried leaves were collected in the nooks and crannies of the roots, rocks, and dead branches that made up the forest floor. Any leaves that had not been found by the sun were covered in a thin layer of snow. She looked across the river where she had gazed in her dream. The evergreen branches there were still, and the forest past those trees was hidden.

She sighed and looked up at the sun. It was not quite mid-day, and she was becoming seriously hungry. Her stomach grumbled.

[Okay, Kpleeb, where is my fish? I wonder if he forgot how to spear fish after all that time in the caves.] She sighed and reminded herself. [There is no point in being petty just because you’re hungry, Thoka.]

Her stomach growled again, and she began to shape a piece of yellow stone in order to take her mind off the hunger. Eventually, she made the base of the rod she had dreamt of, and began to work on the stone needles that protruded from the base.

Thoka waited until the sun was past its peak before allowing herself to worry. She attached the dream rod to her stone bracelet with a loop. She stood and walked down the river bank in the direction that Kpleeb had traveled. The path was rocky and littered with boulders from the size of field mice up to the size of a tundra-yak’s head. The river was loud, and she was reminded of a waterfall near her village in the wet mountains. The incessant roar filled a gap in the mind that was simultaneously soothing and distracting. After a few minutes, she spotted three fish on a forked branch that was laying on a large, flat rock next to the river. She stopped walking immediately and examined the river and surrounding forest.

As expected, there was nothing out of the ordinary. There was no movement in the trees on either side of the river. She approached the fish and knelt to touch them. The fish were fresh, and she dipped the end of the branch in a shallow nook so that the water would keep them cool. Along the bank next to the river she saw a footprint impressed into the dirt.

[It could be Kpleeb’s. That’s about his size. Those would be his fish too.]

Thoka shoved down her rapidly mounting concern and began to search. [If he has been here, there will be more clues. I just have to find them… Maybe he is just taking a nap.]

She slowly walked along the river bank in both directions looking for Kpleeb, but he was not to be found, even though she looked into the trees. Eventually she returned to the fish and looked across the river.

[He could have put the fish down in order to cross.]

There was nothing visible on the other side of the river, but the tree branches hung low over the water and blocked any potential view. Thoka could tell that the water was shallow here, at least not above her waist. It was tumultuous and fast moving, which concerned her.

[What if he was swept under?]

Fear bubbled up in her throat as she imagined Kpleeb being tugged into the cold water and battered on stones until he drowned, alone and out of sight forever.

[Get a grip… Get a grip. For all I know, he is just hunting and will be back soon…. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to look some more.]

Thoka found a long stick that she could use to maintain her footing. She stepped into the water, and maneuvered the stick downstream at an angle until it was stuck to the stream bed ahead of her. She could not see the bottom of the river, but the stick indicated that the river was not very deep. Every step was painstakingly navigated by feel with the soles of her feet acting as her eyes in the murky water. She slipped after just two steps as her right foot landed on a slick, angled stone. Her ankle and foot sunk into a crevasse between two rocks and stayed there.

Back home on the wet mountain, Thoka had been known as a tough young cavewoman that would take on anything. She had forded rivers, hunted, and participated in most of the activities that were available to her, even if they were generally the domain of the cavemen. She was well rounded and could handle herself well. This river crossing reminded her of the traditional wet mountain tribe swimming lessons.

Every spring, when the rivers were bursting with water from the mountain’s peak, the tribe would select the cavechildren that were taller than the lowest branch on the Tilok tree. Those cavechildren would be taken to a certain section of the river and unceremoniously thrown in. Thoka had realized when she was older that it was not an act of cruelty. The section of river was the easy part. It had fewer rocks, a slower pace, and ended in a ford where the adults could catch the kids.

It was, in fact, a setup. The children tried, and the adults watched and cheered for the best. Everyone lived, but those who swam to the bank before reaching the ford were lifted on the shoulders and carried loudly into the village. It was a coveted place to be. Thoka had won the prize every spring until she reached her womanhood and became one of the adults. After that, she had been beat every time, but had still managed to take second place once.

Needless to say, Thoka had been through rivers and could swim very well. She had twisted her ankles on under-water rocks, and had still managed to win. The problem with this situation was that the river was too shallow to swim. It was less of a river and more of a treacherous underwater mine-field through which she much pick her way.

[Calm and gentle.] She held herself in position with the stick, and carefully extracted her foot. It would be sore later for certain, but it was not broken. Soon, with a fresh respect for the size, shape, and slickness of the river rocks, she was across the river and ducking under the evergreen branches. The forest beyond the river bank was carpeted in a thick, brown coat of dried needles that deadened sound. It was peaceful in the eerie way of an underground tomb.

The sound of the river reduced as Thoka stepped further into the forest. There was almost no underbrush, and a natural space between the trees was enough to walk easily. The branches had kept most of the snow from accumulating under the trees. When she looked straight ahead, she saw an endless sea of craggy, brown bark, but she knew that the canyon was not very wide. The cliff must begin to ascend nearby. After only a short walk, barely twice the width of the river, Thoka stepped into a space that was more open and decidedly unnatural in its configuration. It was a path.

Thoka stopped and looked in each direction, then realizing what a path meant, she backed up and crouched next to a medium-sized tree. Her mind flooded with questions.

[A path means cavepeople, right?] She paused her line of thinking and realized that her most recent experiences taught her to expand her mental image of the world. [A path means people…. or something alive with legs and feet. Is it made by animals? Where does it lead? Was Kpleeb here? I am on foreign ground and must be very careful.]

After a few minutes of watching silently, she believed that she had examined all of the nooks and crannies of the forest around her. There were no hidden caves or people that she could see, and there was no movement or extraneous noise to indicate the presence of any living being. There was nothing but the beating of her heart, her breath, and the faint gurgle of water from behind her. Finally, she willed herself to move.

[You will discover nothing without looking.]

After placing two small rocks at the base of the tree as a landmark, she stepped cautiously onto the path and walked to her left, in the river’s upstream direction. The surface was worn enough that a yellow-brown dirt showed through the detritus scattered on the forest floor. Thoka walked for several minutes, careful to remain silent and watchful. There were no footprints, animal or otherwise. The trail edges were wide unlike the paths usually made by animals. Occasionally she found a broken twig, but there were very few clues.

Disheartened at the total lack of useful information, Thoka turned around and proceeded in the other direction. Soon, she passed the tree she had marked and continued on. A few steps down the path she saw scuffed dirt on the path and stopped. Here there were odd marks in the dirt and signs of a struggle in the ground cover. From that spot there was a long and seemingly unending mark of something being dragged down the trail.

Thoka examined the surroundings closely. There were still no footprints; the ground cover prevented distinct impressions. She did find a small wad of spit that contained blood stuck near the base of a tree.

[Could it be Kpleeb’s? Surely, he would not win a fight against any person stronger than himself. Despite all of his personality and brains, he is not a natural warrior. He could run… but not if caught by surprise. Hmm, I have never seen him run either. He might be slow.]

Quietly she continued her trek in the downstream direction. The river was a constant presence to her right, and eventually she encountered a miniscule stream that fed into the river from somewhere to her left, near the canyon wall. There she saw footprints in the mud that confirmed her fears. She counted the toes.

[There are people here. Are they dangerous?]

Thoka thought back to her tribe in the wet mountains. There had been several instances where a stranger was found lurking near the edge of village, and each time, the warriors had captured and brought the stranger in. There were times when the capture was difficult and someone was injured. She had asked about it once, and her ma explained that though the wet mountain tribe was peaceful, they had to be careful. Some outsiders were captured while spying or planning a theft. “Peace requires vigilance,” she muttered to herself. “It will be no different here.”

After drinking and confirming that she had left no mark in the wet dirt, she continued on the path for some time until she heard unexpected sounds echoing from a rock face. Thoka quickly ducked behind a dense shrub and waited. After a few seconds she heard it again. It was the cry of a playful child. She warily made her way toward the canyon wall. The slope began to steepen, and eventually she placed her hand on the cliff’s face. To her right was a large, grey boulder spotted with moss. She went to it and peeked over.

In the distance, mostly obscured by trees, was a collection of huts. The silver thread of river glinted through in places, but for the most part, she could not see any real detail. She heard a faint laugh again, and knew that there were children there.

[Children follow adults. I must get closer to see if Kpleeb is there.]

An itch tickled her mind, and she remembered her dream. Taking the stone rod away from her bracelet, she looked at the tiny protrusions. It was not complete, at least not to match what she had seen in the vivid dream. She hunkered down next to the rock and began to fashion the rest of the rod.

She hurried, and though she saw small differences between the dream rod and what she remembered, she felt a great deal of internal pressure to find Kpleeb. The sun was now well past its peak, and she knew that she needed to return and eat the fish she had left in the pool. Standing, Thoka held the dream rod in her hand and pointed it at the village. The air shimmered slightly in front of her, and a faint tunnel appeared. Though there were waves of blurriness and a faint echo of sound, she could see a closer view of the village and the shapes of people working.

For several minutes she experimented with the position of her head and hands and found that bringing the dream rod closer to her eye would increase its magnification but also increased the blur that pervaded her view. The sound echoing through the tunnel seemed unaffected by her tests, but there was nothing except the occasional laugh or muffled murmur. Eventually, Thoka saw a procession of caveman forms bring out a person that was bound and walked erratically between guards. There was a burst of sound as several voices cheered.

She focused her dream rod and eyes on the bound form and moved her arm into different positions that might facilitate her view.

[Terrible blur,] she thought with frustration. The form could be a caveman or cavewoman. All she could see was that it was roughly the same size as the others, and was topped with a dark smudge. Thoka sighed and waited. After a few moments, one of the guards moved sharply and there was a cry.

“No, no. You must believe me! I am alone!”

[It is him- just stay alive, Kpleeb, and I will save you!]

The Index -|-

Kpleeb crept slowly over large stones that bordered the river. In his hand he grasped a thin, flexible branch that was as thick as his little finger and about as long as his arm. He had sharpened the end with the knife that Thoka had given him and then added a little barb just above the tip. He was prepared to fish with it. All he needed was a calm pool instead of the raging river.

He had already traveled well past where he lost his stone spear. There he had paused to conduct a second and more thorough search. The water there was tumultuous and frothy as it endlessly pummeled the rocks. It was too dangerous to enter, so he had continued on. The river had very few pools where fish would congregate, so he continued to trek downstream until he approached a general widening of the river.

The river dropped off into a deep pool that was bordered by rocky banks and ringed by branches heavy with large, dark-green needles. There was a dull roar from the water, but it faded quickly into the sound of a more friendly river as he got further away from the pool. He quickly scouted the river below. It curved around a bend, and he saw in the distance that the canyon became shallower, the river widened, and far ahead he could see what appeared to be a plain. It would be at least a five-day walk, even with fast walkers.

[Long trip for Thoka. We must take our time.]

He turned back and crouched near the deep pool. The water near its banks were calm enough, and he knew there would be fish there. Fishing had been one of the essential tasks that all of the canyon river cavepeople learned as children. Even the village idiot would be able to catch a fish every day. This river was not the canyon river. Of this Kpleeb was certain, but he knew how to fish and expected the fish here to behave in the same way. He cast his spear four times before finally striking a fish.

[I guess I am a bit rusty after all this time.]

He stretched his legs and strung the fish on a forked branch before moving to another part of the pool. He waited for the fish and enjoyed a few restful moments before he remembered that there was much to do. He began to apply the spear as often as he saw movement in the murky water, and in another handful of minutes he had two more fish on the branch.

[It is enough for now. Don’t get greedy Da always said.] Kpleeb stood and wistfully remembered the days his Da had fished with him. [I didn’t know what I had, but I wish I had some of those moments to live again. It’s time to go. Leave the reminiscing for later.]

He moved his feet. The walk back to where he had left Thoka took some time, and the sun was almost straight up in the sky when he started to recognize the terrain where he had left her. When he passed the location where he had lost his stone spear, he stopped, set his three-fish-branch down, and searched again.

This time he was determined to try harder. He entered the water using a stout stick as a staff to keep himself upright. The river here was very rocky and every stone was slippery. The water tugged forcefully at his calves, but he methodically made his way through the current pausing at each step to prod into the water with his stick. He never encountered the stone spear, and when he reached the other side of the river, he sat on a large rock and looked again.

[Even from this angle I can’t see it. It is thin and there is just no way to see it through the water. Thoka was right to be angry with me.]

After a few moments he decided that he had wasted enough time. There was a better crossing place just downstream from where he had lost the spear, and he turned and walked in that direction. The forest on this side of the river was thick with trees competing for the sunlight that fell into the river’s gap. Their branches brushed the water in a few spots and he needed to delve into the relative dimness of the forest to find a way.

Within a few crouching steps he was able to find a clear pathway between the trees. The path wended its way along the river in both directions. He noticed that even the branches that would have naturally grown into the path were nipped off on the edges of the path, and after a few steps Kpleeb stopped and turned to look in the other direction.

[This must be a game path. It is definitely used by some animal on a regular basis. Maybe every day.]

He turned and continued to walk slowly along. To his right, the river gurgled in a muted way. [The foliage really reduces the sound, to be sure.]

He heard a twig break some distance behind him and turned on his heel. Nothing was there, but before he could resume his walk, strong and hairy arms reached around his neck and torso from the back. Quickly another pair reached around and pinned his arms.

“No fight,” someone said hoarsely.

Kpleeb jerked violently, but the arms that wrapped him were incredibly strong. The second pair of arms let go momentarily, and Kpleen responded with an even more erratic, flailing movement. Then he lifted his arms and slid downward in an attempt to escape the grasp that held him.

The remaining arms tightened like a vice and caught him by his chin. “Hit!” rasped the voice. “Hit now!”

A foul stench wafted over him. Behind it roiled a rotten mix of dirt, sweat, and urine. Kpleeb gagged as he gasped desperately for breath. He could hear the owner of the arms panting just above his ear, and a scruffy chin came into view. He kicked again hoping to dislodge the hold on his head. It was then that he saw a blunt instrument enter his view swinging as if in slow-motion toward him.

In a split second a grunt of pain emanated from someone. He was not sure who made the sound, but lightning struck his senses, and it was followed by immediate darkness.