Bushes of various kinds clumped along the base.
The ancient, fickle river had cut a long, low cave into solid rock. When Tor had come here with Wyecat and Tsilka, they’d
slept in the cave. The Tlikit must be sleeping there still. Tor imagined future huts on the flat middle ground of Teahra Village.
At the outer edge, fish-drying racks held their bounty up to wind and sun. Water lapped at a gravel shore. A bit of the shore
jutted into the river, like a connected island, ready to catch any driftwood the River Spirit sent.
Back near the cliffs, smoke rose from the village fire. The people sitting around it stood when Tor and his great herd arrived.
Others came out of the cave. The seven or eight young men who had stormed off in anger before now approached with raised spears.
What fools!
Tor thought. He’d done what he had to to keep people from fighting when they were clumped around Ashan. But now, with her
safe, he felt strong with his warriors ready behind him. Ashan could worry about making them all into brothers and sisters
when she awoke.
“Listen to me!” he said in a menacing voice, and the Tlikit halted their threatening approach.
“This is
my
place,” he shouted. “Without me, you would still be living by a lake with no water. I dreamed this place, I found it, and
I allowed you to live here. Now it is
ours.
My people will hunt the prairie and fish the Great River, and live on this flat piece of ground. We don’t want your cave.
The way you live, the way you dress, or don’t dress, you need a cave.
This
is what we want.” He waved his arm to show theground just waiting for Shahala huts. “We are here and we will stay. We are many more than you. If you try to fight, you will
die. Die!”
He raised his spear to a thrusting position, and felt the tense heat of the Shahala warriors ready behind him.
“We will live
here,”
Tor went on, jabbing the butt of his spear in the ground. “And you can live there.” He pointed to the cave. “Unless you want
to find some other place. Now bring us food. We are hungry.”
Tsilka walked up. Tor was glad to see her—which was not a thing he thought he’d ever feel again—even though her face was full
of unwanted lust.
“I’m happy to see you, Tor,” she said thickly. “I thought you might take your people and fade away.”
“No,” Tor said. “A man does not fade before destiny.”
“Not a man like you,” she agreed. She turned to her tribe, and Tor saw the lust in her face change to command.
“Put your spears away! These strangers are hungry, and we are not savages without food!”
Some relieved, others reluctant, Tsilka’s people obeyed her. A great variety of food was brought out of the cave. Tor’s people
ate on and on, washing it down with flavored teas. The Shahala who had eaten mosscakes and chewed grass stems last night kept
looking at each other, laughing, saying, “Tor spoke the truth about this place!”
The Tlikit watched the newcomers eat. Some seemed proud of having hunted and gathered it all. Others seemed resentful at being
forced to give it away, but they said nothing.
When the Shahala had eaten their fill, Tor spoke in Tlikit.
“We left our belongings on the prairie. You will help my warriors get them. Elia, you go along so they can talk to each other.”
After a group of men had gone, Tor and Tsilka talked with the others, putting words in both languages so all could understand.
The woman could not hide her lust, but he didn’t allow it to distract him. His brain was busy as he tried to keep up with
questions in two languages. To Tlikit complaints that they did not have enough food for two tribes, Tor replied that the Shahala
were skilled hunters, and soon there would be enough to feed three tribes.
“The Shahala are a people who
like
to share,” he said. “Your lives will be better because we have come. We will change this spot by the river where some people
live in a cave; we will
The ancient, fickle river had cut a long, low cave into solid rock. When Tor had come here with Wyecat and Tsilka, they’d
slept in the cave. The Tlikit must be sleeping there still. Tor imagined future huts on the flat middle ground of Teahra Village.
At the outer edge, fish-drying racks held their bounty up to wind and sun. Water lapped at a gravel shore. A bit of the shore
jutted into the river, like a connected island, ready to catch any driftwood the River Spirit sent.
Back near the cliffs, smoke rose from the village fire. The people sitting around it stood when Tor and his great herd arrived.
Others came out of the cave. The seven or eight young men who had stormed off in anger before now approached with raised spears.
What fools!
Tor thought. He’d done what he had to to keep people from fighting when they were clumped around Ashan. But now, with her
safe, he felt strong with his warriors ready behind him. Ashan could worry about making them all into brothers and sisters
when she awoke.
“Listen to me!” he said in a menacing voice, and the Tlikit halted their threatening approach.
“This is
my
place,” he shouted. “Without me, you would still be living by a lake with no water. I dreamed this place, I found it, and
I allowed you to live here. Now it is
ours.
My people will hunt the prairie and fish the Great River, and live on this flat piece of ground. We don’t want your cave.
The way you live, the way you dress, or don’t dress, you need a cave.
This
is what we want.” He waved his arm to show theground just waiting for Shahala huts. “We are here and we will stay. We are many more than you. If you try to fight, you will
die. Die!”
He raised his spear to a thrusting position, and felt the tense heat of the Shahala warriors ready behind him.
“We will live
here,”
Tor went on, jabbing the butt of his spear in the ground. “And you can live there.” He pointed to the cave. “Unless you want
to find some other place. Now bring us food. We are hungry.”
Tsilka walked up. Tor was glad to see her—which was not a thing he thought he’d ever feel again—even though her face was full
of unwanted lust.
“I’m happy to see you, Tor,” she said thickly. “I thought you might take your people and fade away.”
“No,” Tor said. “A man does not fade before destiny.”
“Not a man like you,” she agreed. She turned to her tribe, and Tor saw the lust in her face change to command.
“Put your spears away! These strangers are hungry, and we are not savages without food!”
Some relieved, others reluctant, Tsilka’s people obeyed her. A great variety of food was brought out of the cave. Tor’s people
ate on and on, washing it down with flavored teas. The Shahala who had eaten mosscakes and chewed grass stems last night kept
looking at each other, laughing, saying, “Tor spoke the truth about this place!”
The Tlikit watched the newcomers eat. Some seemed proud of having hunted and gathered it all. Others seemed resentful at being
forced to give it away, but they said nothing.
When the Shahala had eaten their fill, Tor spoke in Tlikit.
“We left our belongings on the prairie. You will help my warriors get them. Elia, you go along so they can talk to each other.”
After a group of men had gone, Tor and Tsilka talked with the others, putting words in both languages so all could understand.
The woman could not hide her lust, but he didn’t allow it to distract him. His brain was busy as he tried to keep up with
questions in two languages. To Tlikit complaints that they did not have enough food for two tribes, Tor replied that the Shahala
were skilled hunters, and soon there would be enough to feed three tribes.
“The Shahala are a people who
like
to share,” he said. “Your lives will be better because we have come. We will change this spot by the river where some people
live in a cave; we will
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