The Trail (Caveman Chronicles)

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!]