instrument from a tusk.
She wouldn’t be expecting him back until tomorrow.
He called out to her, “Ra-Kel?”
No answer. That was strange. She loved to sew skins into clothes and it was more than he could do to dissuade her from spending all her spare time on this work. Of her own free will, she never would have abandoned a task so satisfying and useful, unless—
She couldn’t have followed him without his knowing.
So she must be inside, surely?
“Ra-Kel?” he repeated, even louder.
He reached the entrance and peered inside but it took several moments for his eyes to adjust to the gloom. Ra-Kel wasn’t inside. Her work lay on the floor, trampled by dirty footprints.
Ug crouched and sniffed. The quality of the strange animal skins they had found on top of this mesa was high indeed. They had been attached to the shell of the egg by tough sinews when Ug and Ra-Kel first discovered them up here on this lofty refuge, seemingly waiting for them, a gift from the gods perhaps? The only explanation.
“Ra-Kel!” shrieked Ug. Then he listened carefully.
A faint voice reached him. “Ug!”
It came from outside the egg, from far away, thin and desperate, as if it belonged to a spirit or the wind, which probably were the same things. Ug rushed back out into the glare, shielded his eyes and gazed around. But he saw nothing, only the bare ground of the perfectly flat top of the mesa, no vegetation or cover of any sort anywhere.
The whisper came again, “Ug!”
Squinting, he tried to work out the right direction. Then he stumbled to the far edge of the mesa and looked down. At first he reeled from what he saw, the sheer drop, the immensity of height and space, but then he saw a dreadful outrage in progress. A theft.
A stranger was stealing his woman! A rival.
Halfway down the face of the cliff, the hairy brute had thrown Ra-Kel over his left shoulder and was climbing down with only his free hand and two legs, a tricky feat considering the unreliability of the handholds and footholds. Ug wailed and clenched his fists.
The stranger paused and looked up, his immense black brows visible even from this distance. It was Og! Og, whom Ug had once treated as a brother, whom he had pulled from a quicksand after he had been chased by a sabre-toothed tiger into a swamp…
“Og!” bellowed Ug ferociously.
“Ug!” mocked Og as he flashed his teeth upwards.
“Ra-Kel!” shrieked Ug.
“Ug!” answered Ra-Kel, her tiny fists pounding the back of her captor but with no discernible effect at all.
Ug was frantic with frustration and worry, with intense concern for his mate and for his own honour. Shooting pains riddled his pride, biting him like mosquitoes. He had to rescue her! How? He thought about dropping a rock onto Og’s head and splitting his treacherous skull, but then Ra-Kel would be loosed into the immensity of death.
He had to climb down and confront Og on the ground. An idea jumped into his mind, almost as if it was an edible animal, and he trapped it there, examined it, grinned with the joy of the catch.
Running back to the egg, he entered and fumbled in the yolky shadows for the coiled sinews, his fingers closing on them, extracting five from the hiding place like the innards of an endless pig. He loped back to the edge of the mesa and looked over the side again.
Og was making slow progress. He still had far to descend.
Ra-Kel was whimpering softly now.
Ug tied the five sinews together to make a rope.
Frantically looking around, he located a projection of rock that stuck itself out a few inches into the void. He tied one end of the rope around it with a knot his father had taught him and then he dropped the tangle and watched it unwind, the far end striking the dusty ground with an audible slap ten seconds later. A mythical snake.
Taking a series of deep breaths, Ug abruptly pushed himself into space and dangled. His large hands clutched the sinew and burned as they slid down and for a terrifying moment
She wouldn’t be expecting him back until tomorrow.
He called out to her, “Ra-Kel?”
No answer. That was strange. She loved to sew skins into clothes and it was more than he could do to dissuade her from spending all her spare time on this work. Of her own free will, she never would have abandoned a task so satisfying and useful, unless—
She couldn’t have followed him without his knowing.
So she must be inside, surely?
“Ra-Kel?” he repeated, even louder.
He reached the entrance and peered inside but it took several moments for his eyes to adjust to the gloom. Ra-Kel wasn’t inside. Her work lay on the floor, trampled by dirty footprints.
Ug crouched and sniffed. The quality of the strange animal skins they had found on top of this mesa was high indeed. They had been attached to the shell of the egg by tough sinews when Ug and Ra-Kel first discovered them up here on this lofty refuge, seemingly waiting for them, a gift from the gods perhaps? The only explanation.
“Ra-Kel!” shrieked Ug. Then he listened carefully.
A faint voice reached him. “Ug!”
It came from outside the egg, from far away, thin and desperate, as if it belonged to a spirit or the wind, which probably were the same things. Ug rushed back out into the glare, shielded his eyes and gazed around. But he saw nothing, only the bare ground of the perfectly flat top of the mesa, no vegetation or cover of any sort anywhere.
The whisper came again, “Ug!”
Squinting, he tried to work out the right direction. Then he stumbled to the far edge of the mesa and looked down. At first he reeled from what he saw, the sheer drop, the immensity of height and space, but then he saw a dreadful outrage in progress. A theft.
A stranger was stealing his woman! A rival.
Halfway down the face of the cliff, the hairy brute had thrown Ra-Kel over his left shoulder and was climbing down with only his free hand and two legs, a tricky feat considering the unreliability of the handholds and footholds. Ug wailed and clenched his fists.
The stranger paused and looked up, his immense black brows visible even from this distance. It was Og! Og, whom Ug had once treated as a brother, whom he had pulled from a quicksand after he had been chased by a sabre-toothed tiger into a swamp…
“Og!” bellowed Ug ferociously.
“Ug!” mocked Og as he flashed his teeth upwards.
“Ra-Kel!” shrieked Ug.
“Ug!” answered Ra-Kel, her tiny fists pounding the back of her captor but with no discernible effect at all.
Ug was frantic with frustration and worry, with intense concern for his mate and for his own honour. Shooting pains riddled his pride, biting him like mosquitoes. He had to rescue her! How? He thought about dropping a rock onto Og’s head and splitting his treacherous skull, but then Ra-Kel would be loosed into the immensity of death.
He had to climb down and confront Og on the ground. An idea jumped into his mind, almost as if it was an edible animal, and he trapped it there, examined it, grinned with the joy of the catch.
Running back to the egg, he entered and fumbled in the yolky shadows for the coiled sinews, his fingers closing on them, extracting five from the hiding place like the innards of an endless pig. He loped back to the edge of the mesa and looked over the side again.
Og was making slow progress. He still had far to descend.
Ra-Kel was whimpering softly now.
Ug tied the five sinews together to make a rope.
Frantically looking around, he located a projection of rock that stuck itself out a few inches into the void. He tied one end of the rope around it with a knot his father had taught him and then he dropped the tangle and watched it unwind, the far end striking the dusty ground with an audible slap ten seconds later. A mythical snake.
Taking a series of deep breaths, Ug abruptly pushed himself into space and dangled. His large hands clutched the sinew and burned as they slid down and for a terrifying moment
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