Preface

Human civilization on future Earth is dying.

Science has advanced until there are no worlds left to explore or conquer. Human life spans have been extended indefinitely. Disease and planned cell death have been eradicated.

But this is no utopia.

People have become bored. Lacking variety, lacking challenge, life has lost its meaning. Few children are being born. The population is shrinking, not because of natural death but from boredom. Simply put, people eventually become tired of living and choose to end their lives.

A few visionaries, Futurists (the name they’ve chosen for themselves) hope to use technology to reintroduce what’s been lost in time to save their civilization, their species, from extinction.

The ability to cross into parallel dimensions has been around for some time. The same technology can also be used to visit Earths of the near past, albeit on different dimensions. One of the near-parallel timelines contains a version of primitive Earth, one where Proto-humans in Africa died out before they could begin the long evolutionary path that resulted in Cro-Magnon man. The Futurists realize that this near-parallel Earth is ideal for an experiment that may save humanity from extinction.

The plan is to ‘harvest’ humans from the past who will then be ‘transplanted’ to the experimental dimension. In order not to affect their own history, only persons in the final stages of life are harvested.

The selectees are plucked from death’s door in the final moments of life, then transported to Earth-Prime. On arrival, they are stabilized, then treated using the latest in medical science. This includes changes made at the genetic levels as they are ‘reconstituted’. The process results in healthy twenty-year-old specimens. They retain their original memories and skills, plus a suite of memories that are implanted during reconstitution. The added skills will help them survive after transplanting.

After waking, the selectees undergo a demanding regimen that includes physical conditioning and training. The process is monitored by one of the Futurists, who will carry out the transplanting.

Women are transplanted in groups of three. They are provided with a cabin and a crossbow on arrival, which will give them a better fit them for survival. By contrast, men are provided with only a knife and camp-axe, slightly larger than a hatchet but smaller than a woodsman’s axe. Those, and the clothing they wear, are the only advantages they will have when they arrive.

Their memories and implanted knowledge may eventually be of help, but the first task is to survive as best they can. They will receive no further assistance from the Futurists, who hope the descendants of such transplants will have a highly-developed survival instinct as well as the determination, curiosity, and ambition that mankind has lost.

This is ultimate freedom; live or die, succeed or fail.

Their new home is on a version of Earth that corresponds to the late Pleistocene of the Futurists Earth. They are deposited at selected spots around the planet, all between the 45th degrees of north and south latitudes. The climate is temperate for the time, and the season is late spring or early summer.

The late Pleistocene of Darwin’s World, as the new arrivals name it, resembles that of the Futurists’ Earth in that the ice sheets have retreated. Glaciers still exist, so temperatures tend to be cooler. Animals are plentiful and many are huge; mammoth, mastodon, giant ground sloth, and a giant deer they name ‘stag-moose’ are representative. Smaller animals similar to those existing downtime are also present. There are predators too, and some of them have evolved to prey primarily on the megafauna: saber-toothed cats, giant short-faced bears, dire wolves.

It is a harsh world, but humans not only survived such conditions on the Earth of the Futurists, they flourished. Armed principally with determination, those early humans learned to use stone, bone, and antler to fashion tools and weapons. Sharp flakes of chert and obsidian substituted for claws and teeth, and like wolves and lions, they organized in bands and hunted in packs, using numbers and organization to substitute for the speed and strength they lacked.

Some of the transplants died almost immediately. Knowledge is often not enough; skill is also needed, and that is gained through experience. Determination counts too, and learning comes from mistakes survived. An element of luck also enters the mix; life or death may happen by simple chance.

There are no laws on Darwin’s World, other than what people make for themselves. There is no civilization, no culture. If such things are to exist, the transplants must create them. When children are born, parents must protect and educate them, choosing from their memories which elements of downtime society they wish to retain and which they will discard.

They have among themselves the knowledge of history, written by humans who came before. They know of the great cultures of downtime Earth…but how many of these are useful in a world that’s savage beyond anything known to humans of historic time?

Some of the predators on Darwin’s World are human.

Prologue

Pavel was waiting near the front of the column when Lee approached.

"Pavel, I want you guarding the left flank when we move out. Get food from the kitchen and move ahead where you can watch as we leave camp. Stay off to the left, keep a watch for danger and if you see tracks, let me know. We can send out hunting parties as soon as it looks worthwhile."

"Do it yourself, kid. I’m busy with my group this morning, and later on I plan on looking in on the group you’ve been with. I won’t have time to wander around in the woods because you think it’s a good idea!"

Robert had come up while this was going on. He watched, waiting to see how Lee would handle this.

"Pavel, you were told before. Do what you’re told, work for the group, or take your stuff and hit the trail. Go anywhere except where we are. That’s still the only offer you’ve got, you’re flank guard or you’re out. We’ll leave without you."

"Suppose we just keep up with the rest of you. We’ve already been doing that, and there’s no reason we can keep on doing it."

"Not you, Pavel. You’ve been a little slow to understand, so I’ll lay it out in a way that even you can’t mistake. We’ll go on, you won’t. If that means we leave you dead alongside the trail, so be it!"

While speaking, Lee had unslung the heavy spear that always hung across his back. The long, sharp blade now pointed directly at Pavel’s eyes from less than a foot away.

He turned pale and took a step back. "You would kill me because I won’t pull your guard duty?"

"No. I’ll kill you because you’re eating our food and not doing your share of the work!"

Robert asked, "Pavel, does this mean you’re leaving?"

"No, Robert, I’ll do the guard if that’s what you want. But this kid has no right to be giving orders! I’ve been part of this tribe for a long time. Why is he giving commands?"

"He commands because I trust his judgment, Pavel. Matt and I delegated that authority to him. It’s his until I decide it should go to someone better qualified. I don’t know anyone better qualified." Robert looked squarely at Pavel, who simply turned and walked away.

***

Robert got the family groups moving. Travel would be slower; everything now moved by travois and backpack.

He missed Matt. It was not easily explained, but the man had exuded confidence. You simply knew that whatever came up, Matt would deal with it. It was hard to believe he was dead. Briefly, Robert wondered how Gregor and Vlad had found Matt and Pavel. Coincidence? Maybe. They were all traveling in the same direction, so it was possible.

***

Pavel came into camp late that afternoon and decided to look in on the women that had been part of Matt’s group. They now cooked for themselves rather than sharing the communal kitchen. Did they have treats hidden away?

"Pavel, you should be over at the kitchen. They’ll be shutting down soon, and if you don’t eat now you won’t get anything before morning," Lilia said.

"I came over to get to know you ladies better! We need to work together now, right? So I thought I’d start by having dinner with you. What are you making?"

"Just enough for ourselves. We're family, you’re not. We’ll be cooking for ourselves and taking our meals with family members."

"Still, there are four of you, all women except for a kid. You’ll need men around to help you."

Pavel felt a sudden coldness beside his ear. He reached up absently to brush it away…a bit of snow, perhaps…but froze when he felt the sharp tip.

"I wouldn’t turn my head just now if I were you," Lilia advised. "Sandra’s pretty good with that spear. And if she’s not, you might spare a glance for Millie."

Millie stood relaxed, spear held across her body but ready to be used with no wasted effort.

"I’ll go, I’ll go! There’s no need for threats! I was just trying to be helpful, like."

"We don’t want your help! You might remember that, because next time the lesson will be more pointed. The kitchen is right over there," Lilia pointed. Her expression might have been amused.

After they finished the meal she spoke to Lee, who’d arrived after Pavel had gone. "I’m not satisfied with Pavel’s story. Matt slipped, but somehow lost his parka? What happened to his bow? He also had a backpack and a quiver of arrows, what happened to those, and how could Matt lose his parka while he was wearing a belt and quiver strap over it?

"If he had taken them off, there was no reason Pavel shouldn’t have brought them back, and why were Gregor and Vlad even there? They should have been a mile or two away across the river! Their story is just too pat! I think they ambushed Matt and killed him.

"I don’t like the thought of him just lying alongside the river somewhere, and no one to even look for his body. He deserves better than that! I'm going to backtrack Pavel and find where it happened. The three of them have about as much regard for hiding a trail as a mammoth, so maybe they left evidence, maybe even his body. If they did—well, we can worry about that after I get back.

"Explain what I'm doing to Robert, but not until tomorrow. I don't have time to argue with him and I don't want Pavel to know. I’m leaving tonight after dark and I'll be back in about a week."

***

The cold woke him. He was lying on a sandbar where he’d been left behind as the water receded. He was wet, shivering, and his right eye was glued shut.

He pawed at it, trying to open the eyelid, then washed his face. In the process, he found a large bump over his eye. Where had that come from?

Washing removed the crusted blood and he got the eye open. Blearily, he closed it for a moment. Blinking, he saw two images of the small tree that leaned over the bank. He closed the eye again and waited for a few moments until he felt better.

He had a severe headache and the lump was sore, but at least it wasn’t bleeding.

Muddy, shivering, he crawled off the sand and found himself in a pile of grass. Blown flat during the winter, it had been left ashore when the river’s spring flood receded. Since then, it had begun to slowly decay where it lay on the river’s bank.

He crawled farther into the drift and pulled the grass around him. He needed fire, but that would have to wait until he could see better. He had lost his parka somehow, but the grasses might help by keeping the wind off. He pulled handfuls and stuffed them inside his shirt. They prickled, but he added more. Presently, the shivering abated.

During the process, he found a small pouch of materials at his waist and opened it. Inside was a roll of string, a small flint knife, and a scrap of steel. The tinder was wet, useless, but he could find more.

He pulled in more grass, making a pile of it. Judging finally that he had enough, he pulled off his wet clothes and wrung them out as best he could. Naked, he crawled into the grass and burrowed in. The decaying grass generated sorely-needed heat.

He was hungry, cold, and exhausted, but no longer shivering. It took only moments for him to fall asleep.

A man appeared before him in his dream, and said, "Your name is Matt."

 

Chapter One

Lilia walked slowly through the camp, her moccasins silent.

Sleeping sites had been arranged in two parallel rows on each side of the row of sleds. The kitchen, now deserted, had been set up in the middle, convenient to the sleds. Families with children occupied the sites closest to the kitchen. Others had taken sites close to friends.

There had been little socializing this evening. Pavel’s news had spread quickly and the tribe had discussed it briefly among themselves. Friends died, the rest had to move on with their lives. After that, conversation lagged and everyone bedded down early. There was a lot of work to be done tomorrow and they would need to be rested.

She waited at the edge of camp for the sentries to pass. They circled the small camp every half hour or so and she didn’t want to attract attention. Lee and the others from her camp already knew she was going, the others would find out soon enough. She intended to be well on her way before that happened.

Most of the snow had melted, leaving the ground slippery where the sleds had passed She moved away from the trail, remaining close but not walking on the disturbed ground. Some might spot her tracks and wonder who had left them.

The ground near the tracks was also muddy, and she slipped a number of times. Finally, perhaps half a mile from the camp, she gave up and picked a tree to climb. She would spend the night there and go on in the morning.

It was unlikely that anyone would miss her immediately. Robert might ask, but since she routinely made the rounds from camp to guards to kitchen to help as needed, it would probably take some time before he noticed. In any case, the rest of the tribe would soon be occupied with packing before moving on. There would be travois to build, among other things; no one would have time to look for her.

She unstrung her bow and slung it across her back with the quiver as she climbed the tree. A large branch projected from the trunk some twenty feet up, and there were limbs extending from the branch that would provide a place for her to lie back in relative comfort. It would do.

A safety rope attached her loosely to the main branch and she settled down to sleep. She was wrapped in her parka against the chill and had pulled up the hood to cover her head. Her bow and quiver lay beside her across two of the limbs and the small pack she’d been carrying cushioned her head. If the tree wasn’t as comfortable as her sleeping furs back at camp, well…she’d slept in more uncomfortable places. She ate a piece of jerky on a slice of dry bread and drank from her water gourd before falling asleep.

She woke up once during the night. Something moved through the forest below, and she realized that the animals were moving back north. A deer, she decided, but it might have been something else. She had nothing to fear from it, whatever it was, and she was soon asleep again.

***

Matt woke up thirsty, sore, and itching, but warm.

He crawled out of the pile of drifted grasses and continued the few yards down to the river, realizing that the water level had gone down during the night. The bank remained muddy and he slipped near the water’s edge, saving himself from a dunking only with difficulty. Had he walked instead of crawling, he would almost certainly have fallen into the water.

He drank, waited a moment, and drank again. The water was muddy, but drinkable. He washed his face and immediately felt better.

Matt crawled slowly away from the water after drinking. He was shaky, but found that he was able to stand by holding onto a tree. Waiting a few moments until he felt secure, he took a few experimental steps away before examining his surroundings.

Both eyes were clear and fortunately, he was no longer seeing double. Reflexively, he rubbed at the barely-swollen lump on his forehead. It was still sore, but that would pass.

He brushed off as many of the sticky grasses that clung to his body as he could reach. Shaking out his damp deerskins, he pulled them on. They were clammy and cold, but not as dripping-wet as when he took them off. The skins stretched as he moved around and he soon felt warmer.

He needed food. Nearly equal in importance was the need for weapons. He hadn’t seen animals before winding up in the river--he still had no idea how that had happened--but there might be something else to eat. Plants had just barely begun to green up, so there would be no fruit or even leaves from sprouting plants just yet. Still, there might be roots from cattails growing in the river, although he wouldn’t be able to get to those until the water level went down more, but there were always insects or larvae. There might be fish in the river, too. He’d caught them before by using hooks and weirs for fish-traps, he could do so again.

The sky was clear and the sun was well up. He had no idea how long he’d slept, but the sleep had helped him recover from the injury and near-drowning. Time well spent, he decided

Bits of grass still stuck to his deerskins and some of the grass rubbed and prickled at his skin. For the moment, he could tolerate the itching; he had no urge to expose himself to the cold by removing his clothing again. Hopefully, it would warm enough later for him to strip and vigorously brush away the grasses that he’d missed earlier. He could shake the deerskins and get rid of most of the grass, then brush off the rest. Even dare a quick swim to get the mud and grass off?

But getting clean would have to wait; it was time to forage for something to eat. Grubs, always available, would do for now. Later, he would use the cord in his emergency pack for a fishing line. If grubs were poor food, they made excellent fish-bait, and as soon as he spotted the first signs of small-animal activity he could put out snares.

He soon found a downed log on the riverbank, blown over by storm or strong winds a year or more ago. Insects had been burrowing under the bark, so he used a stick to lever a section of it free. Under the bark he found a dozen white grubs. They might have been round-headed larvae of woodboring insects, the things that woodpeckers seek when they hammer at the bark of dead trees, or something else. Regardless, most were edible.

Hunger was a problem, but eating more insects than his gut could tolerate would be much worse! He pinched off the black heads, then ate a half-dozen of the grubs.

While waiting to see if they would stay down, he used his flint knife to make a gorge hook. One of the remaining grubs would serve as bait for a fishing line.

He cut off a short length of his precious cord to make a sinker-line, which he tied around a small rock he'd found lying beside the riverbank. The other end of the line he knotted to the longer fishing-line, made from the cord in his emergency kit. One end of the longer line was tied around a circular groove he’d carved in the middle of the gorge hook. The other end he tied to a small tree on the bank.

The two ends of the gorge hook were sharpened, designed to catch in the stomach and turn sideways after a fish swallowed the bait. The ends would then catch in the stomach’s walls and prevent the hook from coming out while he pulled the fish ashore.

Threading a large grub onto the gorge hook, he tossed the rock sinker into the river. The fishing line tightened as the bait sank beneath the surface. While the grub enticed fish, Matt decided to see what weapons he could contrive from his surroundings.

There was a large rock on the riverbank that had washed down in some past flood. After a short search, he found a solid branch that was almost three feet long, broken off by ice buildup and strong winds during the winter. It would do.

His strings and rope had been made from plaited fibers, extracted from leaves and grass stems. Neither source was available this early in the season, but flexible roots would do until he could begin making more cord.

He found several thin ones where the soil of the riverbank had been washed away in the flood. Being as careful of his flint knife as possible, he cut the roots, then used them as crude cord to bind the rock to the tree branch. He felt better immediately; he had a real weapon now! If a cat should try to climb a tree after him, it would get a face-full of rock!

He checked his fishing line but felt nothing tugging back. Had the bait wriggled free? He pulled in the line and the grub was there, but a fresh one might be better. He loosened more bark from the dead tree and selected the largest grub he could find. The newly-baited hook went back into the river to wait for a bite.

The club was good, but a spear would be better. Two methods occurred to Matt; he could bend a small tree over, then use the club to batter the trunk until it broke. The shattered end could be trimmed into shape, sharpened, and hardened in a fire. For that matter, he could use fire or coals to cut the tree!

He went back to the tree he’d been extracting grubs from. Should he eat more? He decided to wait; the physical activity had lessened his hunger. It was still there but now only a dull ache which he could easily tolerate. He'd known hunger pangs before.

Using his club, Matt crushed a section of bark that still remained on the dead tree. He carefully peeled this free and beneath the bark was the powdered cambium layer, mixed with a sawdust-like material left behind by the round-headed borers. It would catch fire readily.

The powder would serve as tinder and the splintered bark could be added as soon as the first flames appeared. Holding the steel piece from his emergency kit in his right hand and the flint knife in his left, he struck the heel of the flint with the steel. Glancing strokes created sparks and he waited impatiently for one to ignite the tinder.

A number of the sparks had vanished into the tinder before Matt saw the first wisp of smoke. He carefully blew on the tiny coal and it grew brighter, then the first tiny flame appeared. He gathered more wood and piled this near the fire, adding it to the small amount he’d gathered from the downed tree. Small branches fed the little fire and soon it had grown to respectable size.

Matt left the growing fire to check his fishing line. A tentative pull on the line was answered by a strong tug back, so Matt carefully pulled his catch ashore. A large, thrashing catfish soon lay gasping on the muddy bank.

A quick tap from the stone club ended the gasping and quick cuts of the flint knife removed the spikes from the dorsal and pectoral fins. Matt knew by experience how painful a wound those fin spikes could inflict! He gutted the fish and removed the head, an easy task using the sharp flint knife. Those ancient ancestors had clearly known a thing or two!

Using a pointed stick to hold the fish over the coals, Matt transferred some of the burning sticks to the base of a small tree. He added more sticks, arranging them around the tree, and the small fire spread.

Keeping an eye on the fire, Matt removed his fish from the coals. It barely had time to cool before he began stripping flesh from the bones, repeating until everything edible was gone.

Finished eating, he gathered up the head and the bones and tossed them into the river. The guts he kept, bait for his gorge hook. The rebaited hook, removed from the fish when he gutted it, soon went back into the river.

Matt tended the small fire around the tree, piling the coals as close as possible. He attempted to twist the trunk free before deciding it was too soon. Adding more wood, he settled down to wait. His full belly, combined with exhaustion, made him drowsy, but he fought off the feeling and waited for the tree to burn through.

A large pile of fallen wood waited. The spear was a defensive weapon primarily, but fire was an excellent defense too. Tonight, Matt would sleep in relative warmth and safety, with a fire to his front and another behind.

A last check of the fishing line brought in another catfish, somewhat larger than the first. He gutted this one and left it hanging from a branch near his fire. The tree finally burned through and Matt laid it near the fire. Safe and warm between his fires, breakfast assured and with a wrist-thick tree that he could make into a weapon tomorrow, Matt slept.

***

Robert woke up early and roused the camp. Lee was already up, munching on bread and a chunk of dried meat as he checked on the guards. Breakfast was grab-and-go, mostly jerked meat and bread baked the previous night that the trekkers washed down by water.

Breaking down the sled loads into packs, then arranging straps to carry them, took longer than expected. Robert fretted; he had hoped to get at least ten miles farther on before nightfall, but soon revised that estimate. There was simply too much to do.

Finally, shortly before noon, the tribe abandoned the sleds and straggled on their way. Robert shook his head at the confusion, but realized there was nothing to be done. They’d soon settle into the new form of travel.

Lee took charge as they moved away. He had a scout out ahead and two others flanking the group, watching for danger and for any animal they might add to their food supply. Laz and Millie worked together, each pulling one branch of a heavily-laden travois. This contained their sleeping furs as well as a share of the tribe’s food. Sandra and Cindy followed, backpacks filled with the rations they’d eat during the day.

Robert noticed the small group late in the afternoon and wondered where Lilia was, but he was too busy at the time to do more than wonder. But there was no sign of Lilia that day.

He found Lee when the tribe stopped for the night. "I didn’t see your mother today. Is she all right?"

"She decided she didn’t believe what Pavel and his two cronies said," Lee admitted, "so she took off to backtrack them. She thinks Pavel and his gang ambushed Matt and killed him. If they did, she’ll find out. She's a good tracker and if possible, she intends to find Matt’s body. If his death wasn’t accidental…Robert, just keep out of my way. I’ll settle Pavel once and for all, and if his little gang gets in the way I’ll do them, too. That’s assuming my mother doesn’t beat me to it. She’s no pushover! I watched her stick swords into a short-faced bear after it clawed me and broke my arm."

Lee thought for a moment before continuing. "You don’t want her angry at you. I’ve acknowledged your authority as leader, Robert, but in this matter I’m not willing to defer. I’ll do whatever seems right at the time."

"You won’t be alone, Lee. I’ll be there with you, probably Marc and Philippe will too, and Laz won’t be hanging back. He liked Matt a lot, we all did, while Pavel has few friends outside his gang of five. But I don’t favor hanging. If we need to execute anyone, we’ll do it by arrows or spears."

Lee nodded, not convinced, but willing to wait for now.

***

Robert wasn’t the only one who noticed Lilia’s absence.

Vlad realized that two different women now brought up the rear of the tribe as they moved. He remarked on this, and Pavel decided to walk past where her group was camped.

Lee, Laz, Cindy, Millie, and Sandra were there, but no Lilia. Pavel watched for some time, making sure, then headed back to his camp. While he walked, he thought about what her absence meant. Why had she left, and more important, where had she gone?

The women were away, visiting other women in the camp. This made it easy for Pavel to tell the men what he’d found. The women might gossip; the men wouldn’t.

"I think Lilia's gone," Pavel said, "probably sometime last night. I saw her yesterday, but she wasn’t following behind us this morning and she’s not in her camp now. Anyone see her today?" He waited, but no one said anything. "I can’t think of any good reason why she would do that. In fact, there’s only one place she’d have gone. I think she’s gone back to look for Matt.

"She won’t find his body, that’s miles downstream by now, but she might find his bow and quiver., maybe his spear too. I knew too many questions would be raised if we brought those back. We probably should have thrown them in the river, but the parka was warmer and better made than my old one so I thought it was worth taking the chance. And after we dumped the body, I just wanted to get away, we all did, so I didn’t take time to pick up his gear and brush out our tracks. I never expected anyone to go back and look for the site!

"Robert and Lee may be suspicious too, but they don’t have any witnesses. It's been a couple of days now so I figured we were safe, but there might still be signs, maybe from where we dragged his body down to the river. If Lilia finds them or the bow and spear, she’ll know she found the right place. Which means we’ve got to go after her.

"We’ve got to kill her before she can come back and tell the others."

 

Chapter Two

"Lee?"

"What’s up, Philippe?"

"There’s an animal up ahead. Keep your voice down."

"What kind of animal?" Lee whispered.

"One of those big ones, maybe that stag-moose thing? It doesn’t have any antlers, but the color’s right, tan with pale spots."

"OK, I’ll be right with you." Lee grabbed his spear and bow where they leaned against his pack.

The tribe had begun setting up evening camp, laying out sleeping furs and arranging the kitchen. Some of the women had headed into the forest to scavenge for downed firewood. Whether they had weapons with them was questionable; despite his admonitions to always go fully armed, many ‘forgot’.

He slung the spear across his back; it might not be needed, but he never left camp without it. Selecting one of his few steel-pointed arrows, he nocked it. Ready, he silently followed Philippe away from camp.

Philippe paused for a moment, then whispered, "Marc is keeping an eye on it. It was browsing when I left and didn’t look alarmed at all. I don’t know if it even spotted us! Anyway, he’s ahead in that clump of brush. I think we might be able to get a shot if we sneak up. Maybe if all three of us shoot, we can bring it down and won’t have to follow a blood trail. That thing is big!"

"Have your bow ready, Philippe. We may not have much time. If it sees three of us, it might run."

The animal, probably a stag-moose as Philippe had guessed, was engaged in biting off the new leaves that had begun sprouting from branches as the weather warmed. Lee watched for a moment, then signaled Philippe and Marc. By gestures he indicated that he would take the first shot and they should launch as soon as he released his arrow. They nodded understanding and made ready.

He watched a moment longer. The browsing animal, a doe, or a stag that had dropped its antlers during the winter, fed contentedly on the tender shoots.

Lee usually tried to put his arrow into the body; an area behind the forelegs was best. If the arrow struck a little high, it would pass through the lungs. If it struck low, it would penetrate the heart. Either wound brought death in moments. But this animal was almost face-on and the head blocked the only other good shot, between the shoulders into the body cavity. The shot would kill because of blood loss, rather than vital organ damage, but an animal this large might run more than a mile before finally bleeding out.

The only other shot that might result in an immediate kill was a brain shot, but the head was moving as the animal browsed, and even if it stopped the target area was small. The arrow would need to go in below the thick bony support for those magnificent antlers which grew late in spring, the crown ridge at the top of the skull. If the arrow went too low, it would strike the nasal bones. In either case, there was nothing lethal behind those bones.

But the tribe needed meat; he would have to try the brain shot. Taking a deep breath, he half drew the arrow back and slowly rose to his feet, partially turned away from the stag-moose. As soon as he had solid footing and balance, he drew the arrow back and anchored it to his cheek. Marc and Philippe watched, ready, waiting until they had a target. The animal would move as soon as Lee launched his arrow.

The stag-moose might have seen Lee, but if so it showed no sign of alarm. It continued browsing as he set himself for the shot. He had been holding his breath since he rose to his feet. Now, braced and ready, he released some of the air and loosed his arrow. His right hand automatically reached for his quiver and extracted a second arrow.

The shot went slightly higher than intended, deflecting downward. It now stuck, quivering, from the front of the animal’s face. The stag moose staggered, then dropped. As it fell, two other arrows punched into the body, entering behind the shoulders.

Probably not needed, Lee realized, but it will be good for Marc and Philippe to share in the kill. "Marc, give me a hand field-dressing this fellow. Philippe, run back and get help, we’ll let someone else do the skinning and butchering. Ask Robert to send up a couple of the travois. We’ll take everything we can use, heart, lungs, liver, kidneys, too. Roasting sections of the lungs will be a treat for the kids. And thanks, you two. You did great!"

The two smiled at the praise. Philippe turned and ran toward the camp while Lee and Marc slit the belly skin, preparing to open the body cavity so the carcass could cool.

***

Pavel and his three companions knew nothing of this. They’d left the camp an hour before, slipping into the forest before the sentries were due to begin watch. Now, they trotted single-file along the drag marks, following the trail left by the travois. Each carried a bow with ready arrow and each had a spear slung across his back. A small fanny pack carried their water gourds and a supply of food.

With the excitement of the kill occupying the tribe’s attention, no one noticed their absence.

Robert brought a travois to where Lee and Marc were skinning the animal. Half the skin had already been peeled back to provide a clean place to lay the internal organs. The body cavity was empty, except for pooled blood that hadn’t drained out. The intestines were gone, dragged away by Lee as Marc began skinning.

Colin, following Robert, had brought his cleaver along. Now, waving Marc aside, he took over the butchering task. An efficient chop split the pelvis, allowing the lower carcass to spread. He completed the job by chopping through the breastbone where the ribs joined. The cleaver made short work of quartering the splayed carcass and separating the neck from the head. Preliminary work finished, he began dividing the carcass into easily-managed cuts. Lee watched in awe. He’d butchered a number of animals, but Colin had a professional’s skill.

A steady stream of people showed up and began carrying cuts of meat and organs back to camp. Colin followed the last travois-load of meat; he needed to build a fire and begin preparing some of the fresh meat for supper. The tribe had been living on dried meat and vegetables for months now, and while those foods had kept them alive and healthy, more was needed.

They would eat well tonight and tomorrow morning. If they were late taking the trail, so be it; a real breakfast would be cooked and eaten tomorrow morning before the tribe left camp.

***

Pavel’s group passed through shade and dappled sunlight as they trotted alongside the trail. The sun was setting, so they wouldn’t be able to follow the trail much longer. Spotting a small hill south of the trail, he led them to the top where they would camp for the night. The ground would be dry up there and there should be plenty of downed wood. They would build a fire for safety and sleep until dawn.

"Gregor and Vlad, collect firewood. I’ll build a fire and we’ll overnight here. Tomorrow morning we head northeast until we reach the trail. With a bit of luck, we'll find Lilia’s tracks by noon. We’ll need to slow down after that and make sure we don’t lose her trail. If we do, we know she’s going to the river; we can pick up her tracks there and still catch up to her before dark. I’ll take first watch. Vlad, you’ll take second and Nikolai will have third shift. Gregor, you’ve got the dawn watch. Wake me as soon as you can see the ground. We’ll eat on the way."

***

They ate their scanty meal the next morning as they followed the tracks and drag marks. "Pavel, none of us brought much to eat. We’re going to have to find something or we’ll be hungry by tonight."

"I couldn’t bring much either, Gregor. I got all they’d give me yesterday morning, but it was supposed to be for a day only. If we don’t catch up to Lilia by this afternoon, we’ll have to hunt. It’s warm enough now that the animals should be moving back. Maybe we can get a deer. If not, we can set out lines and catch fish when we get to the river. We'll add as much food as possible to what we brought, then go after her. It’s going to take her at least one more day to find where we dumped the body, so I think we’ve got plenty of time. If she turns back before she gets to the river, we just let her go. She won’t have found anything.

"We'll need to keep going though, just in case, and dump his bow and arrows in the river. The spear, too, if we can find it. Brush out the tracks and drag marks, then catch up to the tribe. If anyone asks where we went, we just went hunting because the tribe was short of meat. Everyone got that?" He got three grunts in return, all the trotting men were able to spare.

Pavel realized he would have to call a break soon. If not, his poorly fed men wouldn’t be able to keep going.

By midday, Pavel had slowed to a walk. His three followers showed signs of balking even at the slow pace, but at least the river was only a few hundred yards ahead. Something might have come down to drink, and anyway their water gourds needed refilling.

***

Lilia’s tracks had left the trail half a mile back; the exhausted men hadn't noticed.

She had recalled what Matt had said, that he and Pavel would go south, meaning that he and his two followers would have come from that direction when they rejoined the tribe. She reasoned that she could save time by taking a more direct path from the trail to the river, then pick up their tracks somewhere south of there.

As it happened, she crossed their trail only a short time later.

Three men had traveled northwest together, their tracks overlapping in places; she realized that this didn’t jibe with what Pavel had said, that Vlad had remained behind to look for Matt’s body. The evidence simply didn’t support that claim, meaning Pavel had lied.

Following the tracks, she found Matt’s steel-bladed spear. There was no mistaking it; that spear had stood beside the cabin door for months, and she’d watched Matt use it a number of times. If he had indeed fallen into the river, how had his spear come to be left here, leaning against a tree?

Had Pavel’s men ambushed him here? But there was no bloodstain on the ground and no sign of a struggle. Curious; the tracks didn’t make sense! Why carry a spear this far, only to abandon it beside the trail?

Lilia picked up the spear, absently stroking the smooth wood as she thought about her find. The river was some three hundred yards ahead. She slung the spear over her shoulder and followed the trail to the river.

She spotted a disturbed section of ground about thirty yards back from the river. Searching the ground carefully, she found where a small amount of blood had sunk into the dirt. Circling around the blood spot, then widening her path as she examined the ground for more evidence, she found several arrows where they’d fallen out of Matt’s quiver. A short time later she found his bow, still strung, lying beside the quiver containing the rest of his arrows.

She unstrung the bow…it took all her strength to bend the limbs enough to release the string…and slung it across her back alongside Matt's spear. Picking up the spilled arrows, she replaced them in the quiver before adding it to her growing load.

She soon found a trail joining the one she’d been following. This had been made by two men coming south along the river. It hadn't been made by Matt; she knew his tracks. Could this have been made when Vlad and Gregor joined Pavel?

A faint trail led to the river. Two men had made it, and the depth of their tracks showed they carried a heavy load. The tracks showed that they had stopped briefly near the river, muddled as they had moved about. From here, the tracks, lighter now, walked beside drag marks to a spot that was well back from the water’s edge.

She worked out the meaning of the tracks, not liking her conclusion. The two had likely been carrying Matt’s body, perhaps after he’d been shot from ambush. The small amount of spilled blood meant he’d probably died instantly.

She glanced at the bloodstain and felt a tear spill down her cheek. Angrily she wiped it away; there would be time enough to weep for Matt after she’d stuck her spear into Pavel! As for his accomplices, arrows would do just fine for them, but she wanted to see Pavel’s face when her spear went into his guts.

No tracks led downstream. She wondered briefly why the drag-marks had stopped where they were, then realized that the river had been much higher when they crossed it three days before.

Perhaps Matt’s body had hung up on driftwood? Lilia looked downstream and decided she could spare a few days to look for his body. She had no means to give him a proper burial, but at least she would find closure from having seen his body. But his weapons were heavy and would slow her down. Looking around, she found a projecting limb a hundred yards downstream from where the murder had occurred. She would keep the spear for now. Her own lighter spear had been left with Lee for safekeeping, so Matt’s spear would be useful.

She hung the bow and quiver over the limb, then headed south, following the river. Not the same thing, of course, but having that heavy spear slung across her back made her feel as if Matt walked with her.

***

Pavel and his small gang surprised a foraging raccoon near the river. Two of their three arrows struck the small animal and killed it. The third arrow missed and was lost in the river, while Nikolai never got a shot off. Pavel simply shook his head in disgust. They were what they were.

They soon had the raccoon gutted and skinned. The skin and head were tossed into the river; the rest they broiled over a hastily-built fire before eating their fill. Leftovers got divided up and put into their fanny packs.

They were all tired and sleepy. Pavel wanted to push on, but he faced a near-mutiny and finally backed down. They gathered more wood before bedding down for the night. Pavel took the early shift again and sat by the fire as the others went to sleep.

***

Lilia slept as she’d done the night before, stretched out on a live-oak limb. The tree had great limbs that spread more than twenty feet from the main trunk. Wrapped in her parka, weapons beside her, she listened to the murmur of the river as she fell asleep.

***

Matt had eaten his fill of fish, then collected a few crayfish for ‘dessert’. A few scraps of memory had returned, although he still had no idea what had made the knot on his head. Clouds were moving in from the north, so he looked about for shelter. Finding nothing he could use, he decided to build his own. He soon had the river to his front, a large tree to his back, and a fire for protection, but he needed a lean-to. It would shelter the fire in case of rain and reflected heat would keep him warm during the night.

He began collecting poles and limbs for the frame. Rootlets would serve to tie the crosspiece between trees, and the weight of the items he leaned against it would hold it in place. While collecting materials for the shelter, he brought in more downed wood for the fire. This he stacked at each end of the lean-to as a wind deflector.

During his scouting, he had found a number of cobbles along the river which he brought back to the lean-to. It wasn’t yet dark when he finished and he had nothing to cook, so he began chipping the cobbles, fashioning weapons and tools.

The flakes of stone soon acquired an edge; he now had replacements should the flint knife in his emergency kit break. Recent memories were hazy, but the knowledge of working flint and building shelter was there. Matt wondered vaguely why that should be true, but the thought was fleeting. He still had work to do before it rained.

There might be another fish in the morning, or perhaps a few more crayfish. If all else failed he would resort to eating the grubs again. The flint cobbles he’d been working on could wait, too. The fire sank low and Matt added a dry limb to keep it burning. He watched the flames for a moment, then curled up under his lean-to and went to sleep.

 

Chapter Three

Each small herd of deer consisted of a buck and three or four pregnant does. The bucks began shedding their antlers as the winter ended, sometimes just one, sometimes both. Irritable, they abandoned their harems and wandered away. Most soon joined with other bucks in pairs and trios, then moved north toward their summer range.

The does remained together after the bucks left. They too began drifting north, driven by instinct and the promise of food. The deer browsed on fresh green leaves and succulent branch tips as they traveled slowly north, bedding down in a different place each night.

The doe sought privacy when her time came. Lying down, she delivered a fawn just before daybreak. The full moon lit the scene as she licked the small form. In a short time, it stood up on long shaky legs and driven by instinct, moved close to its mother.

The doe ate the afterbirth, one of several survival mechanisms that deer had adopted over millions of years. It contained elements and minerals that would help her recover from the birthing process and also removed much of the evidence that there had been a birth here. Otherwise, coyotes and wolves would find the afterbirth and begin searching for her fawn.

The doe soon moved away from the fawn to feed. The tiny creature crouched in the cover of a clump of grass and froze in position, hidden and virtually scentless. A predator could pass close by and never realize a helpless young deer hid nearby.

She returned after a time and held still while the fawn nursed. The tiny head butted against her small udder and sucked at the teat until it had drunk its fill. The two then cuddled together under cover, waiting while their respective breakfasts digested.

Later in the afternoon, the doe got to her feet. Testing the air, she led the way down to the river to drink. The fawn nursed again. She waited patiently until it finished, then the two headed cautiously north toward the summerlands.

***

Lilia woke at daybreak and climbed down from the branch. She washed her face in the river, then ate the last of her meat and bread. Refilling her water gourd, she replaced the wooden stopper. Carrying Matt’s heavy spear had been awkward, but she would not leave it behind. She slung it across her back, shifting her small pack to make room. When both hung as comfortably as she could manage, she picked up her bow, slung the quiver over her shoulder, and headed south.

She found no game, but saw a number of tracks; deer and other animals had passed not long before. She would need to find game soon or stop and set out a fishing line. There hadn’t been enough food that morning to assuage her hunger; soon, she wouldn’t have a choice. She would have to find food or starve. Already quiet, she slipped forward with renewed alertness.

Hunger was no stranger. Still, it would get worse and if she couldn’t find food within a day she would begin to weaken. Like the rest of the tribe, she was already thin from short rations and long days of work. There was little spare flesh left on her body.

She listened, slipped forward a few paces, listened again. From time to time she approached the river, looking for any sign that Matt’s body might have washed up on the bank.

Her pace was slow, but if there was an animal ahead she might see it before it discovered her presence. It was during one of her pauses to listen that she heard a distinct tapping. Cocking her head to the side, she listened carefully, but the tapping had stopped.

Well, there were woodpeckers around. She resumed her slow pace forward.

***

The clouds began dripping rain just before dawn. The cold rain woke Pavel and he soon had his small group moving. Some grumbled, but in a short time they were on their way. They ate some of the raccoon meat while heading south in single file.

Pavel passed on instructions while they walked along the trail.

"We might come up on her at any time. Make sure you’re ready and this time, don’t fumble with your arrow. If we see her before she sees us, we might try to get closer. But if she tries to run, take the shot. Even if you don't kill with your first arrow, you might wound her. Just don’t let her get away; if she sees us, she’ll know why we came back.

"That place we dumped him can’t be too much farther. We’ll just stay close to the river and when we find the place, we'll dump his weapons and brush out our tracks. Look for her tracks before you go stomping through the area. If she hasn’t found the place, we can head back right away. She can look all she wants after we get rid of the evidence."

"We should have done that before we left, Pavel."

"Yeah, well...you were just as glad to leave that place as I was, Gregor. Anyway, we get rid of the sign, brush out our tracks, and the rain will wash away what we don’t get."

Half an hour later Pavel paused and looked around.

"Gregor, come up here. Doesn’t this look like the place to you?"

Gregor looked around, then moved a few paces and looked again.

"It could be, Pavel. If we find his weapons, we'll know for sure."

"OK, everyone spread out and look. Find those weapons. The spear...I can't remember. It's on the ground or leaning against a tree, but we left the bow lying on the ground and some of the arrows had spilled. We’ll need to find those, too."

Vlad came back to Pavel fifteen minutes later. "Pavel, this is the place; I found a bloodstain. There are drag marks too, down by the river where we threw him in. But I haven’t found those arrows. I know where they should be, but they aren’t there now."

"Crap! Are there any tracks around that we didn’t leave?"

"Maybe. Look over here." Vlad pointed to a spot on the ground.

Pavel studied the ground. "I think you’re right, Vlad. That’s from a moccasin, smaller than any track we left. She’s been here; I’ll bet she picked up the arrows and his other weapons, too. She’ll take them back to the tribe.

"Robert will know Matt wouldn’t have taken his weapons off. They’d have gone in the river with him. If she gets back with those weapons, we’ll have to leave the tribe. I don’t want to leave if we don’t have to, but if they find out we killed Matt we won’t have a choice."

"Yeah. So do we follow her tracks?"

"No. She’ll head back for the trail and follow the tribe. We know about where they’ll be, so we cut across country and outrun her. We’ll get in position before she catches up and ambush her before she knows we’re anywhere around.

"As soon as we're back, I’ll leave you three to watch the back trail. I can sneak up close enough to the camp to make sure she didn’t get back before us. I’ll watch Lee's camp for a while, make sure she’s not there. If she’s back, that's where she'll be.

"If she’s not back, we'll spread out and watch. One of us will hide on the north side of the trail just to be sure, but she’ll probably be coming from the south.

"I figure we’re a couple of miles south of the trail right now. We dumped Matt’s body here, we know she was here long enough to pick up his weapons. She’ll head north and follow the tracks. There’s no reason why she’d cross the trail. Whoever watches the north, keep alert anyway. As for where to set the ambush, she’ll be following the drag marks so we wait a half-mile or so behind the tribe. I’ll watch alongside the trail, Gregor and Vlad will be south of me. She’ll be moving; we’ll be hidden under cover. We put a couple of arrows into her, cut her throat to make sure, drag the body off into the brush and rejoin the tribe. If anyone mentions us being gone, remember, we tell them we went hunting."

With that, Pavel took a final regretful look around the clearing, then turned his back on the river. Jogging again, he led his small band northwest. They would intercept the drag marks left by the travois and follow them until they got close to the tribe, then pick a spot where they could set up the ambush.

***

Matt woke to the slow drip of cold water on his neck. The lean-to wasn’t watertight, but at least it had protected the fire. It was the work of a minute to stir the coals and add wood from the stacks at the ends of his shelter.

He still had most of a fish, so he warmed that over the coals and ate. Finished, he took the bones down to the river and threw them in before washing his hands and face.

Moving upstream, he checked the line he’d left set out the night before. There was no tug on the line, so he pulled it in and looked for where he’d gutted the catfish the night before. The offal was gone; something had come up during the night, found the guts, and eaten them. There were tracks, blurred by the rain so that Matt couldn’t identify the scavenger.

Sighing, he went to find a log he could raid for grubs. Just as well, since he hadn’t really wanted to handle guts that had been left out overnight! Even though catfish probably loved them.

But it proved unnecessary to look for grubs. The rain had brought out nightcrawlers, large fat earthworms. Matt gathered several by simply picking them off the ground. He had thought of a way to improve his fishing line, meaning he would need more bait.

It was the work of half an hour to carve two more gorge-hooks He attached them to the fishing line above the rock sinker, using short lengths of his fishing line. This left him with three gorge hooks attached at intervals above the weight. The earthworms had tried to crawl away while he worked, but they were easily recaptured. Threading worms onto the gorge hooks, he let the ends of the worms dangle free to wiggle enticingly as he tossed the arrangement gently into the river, which appeared to have risen slightly. Had there had been more rain upstream?

Washing his hands again, he left the setline and walked back to the lean-to. Matt had been near starvation when he first woke from his injury, but now he found himself tiring of the taste of fish! As soon as he had weapons, he would hunt.

He warmed himself for a time, already planning ahead. He decided that he would collect rootlets as soon as the rain let up and weave them into a basket. He had already accumulated several things he intended to carry when he moved away from the river, and there might be others. Meantime, there was work to do.

He picked up the two rocks he’d been working with the night before and began tapping, using the smaller one as a hammerstone to knock long pieces from the core. He needed a second, longer, knife--he’d already figured that out--and a spearhead, plus any smaller flakes could be made into arrowheads. He collected them as he worked and piled them beside the fire. The name for the rocks, a form of chert, was somewhere deep in his memory. A fine-grained rock, it was a suitable raw material for tools. Flint, perhaps? He held up the core and examined it, then went back to his steady tap-tap-tapping. The slow rain continued to fall as he worked. Finally it stopped, and Matt stirred up the coals of his fire. He laid the pieces of chert down and walked to the river to see what he’d caught.

Lilia continued her slow journey south. Slip a few paces forward; pause, listen; move forward again. The breeze blew from her right at first, then changed until it blew across the river.

She froze in mid step; she’d heard something. Her eyes scanned around before she saw movement. A deer was browsing, just beyond a forked tree; the motion she'd spotted was the deer raising its head to look around. Cautiously, arrow nocked on her bowstring, she crept forward seeking a better vantage point. Finally she had enough clear space for shooting, but there was a slight movement by the browsing deer.

Behind the deer she saw a tiny form, a newborn fawn. The deer, a doe, turned around to lick at the fawn. Lilia watched regretfully. There really was only one thing to do.

She lifted the bow.

The doe ran away as soon as she shot. The fawn dropped, kicked once, and died.

She ran forward, but the only thing left to do was dress and butcher the fawn. The doe could survive without the fawn, but the fawn would have starved to death without the doe. Darwin’s World was as merciless to animals as it was to humans.

She had just finished skinning the small deer when she heard the tapping noise again.

 

Chapter Four

Robert took care of his own needs, then visited the small family areas to see how others were faring. It took less time than usual; Pavel’s group was down to three, a man and two women. "Where’s Pavel, Monika?" he asked.

"I don’t know, Robert. Vlad mentioned hunting, but no one said for sure. They were just gone when we woke up."

"Are you going to be able to keep up when we move out? I don't have a lot of help to offer; everyone has their own work to do and things to carry. Some are caring for kids as well as hauling tools and kitchen supplies. You may have to abandon Pavel’s gear if you can’t carry it, or stay behind."

"I know, Robert, we’re already hauling a shovel and an axe as well as some of the tribe's dried food. But staying behind is out of the question. We’ll stay with the tribe. They were carrying some of the kitchen pots, so we’ll add those to our loads, but that’s all. We’ve got our own things to carry. Pavel’s furs and sleeping pad will just have to be left behind, the things that belong to the men who went with him too. They should have made arrangements."