Bonesetter Read online

  In the late afternoon as they walked down a ravine toward the cave they came to a narrow choke point where a flash flood had washed up a large assemblage of sticks, brush and other debris. It had caught on a couple of small trees to form what appeared to be an impenetrable morass. For a while they thought they would have to climb out of the ravine because the brush was too dense to get through. Then they realized from the way all the tracks came together that animals had found or created a small passage through one area. They crouched down to go through. Pell was pushing through a tight spot when a strand of dried vine got wrapped around his neck. He struggled somewhat frantically to get it loose in the tight little space. Afterward he mused that what had just happened to him must have been something like what had happened to the rabbit he had trapped in his thong.

  When they got to the other side of the morass of brush, they smelled blood. Looking about they saw an area off to the side where a big hole had been torn in the brush pile. It looked like some kind of animal had become trapped there and had been killed. To their disappointment, there wasn’t anything left except some blood splattered here and there. The ground was rocky so they couldn’t even tell what had made the kill, much less track it and attempt to steal its prey.

  When Pell and Boro arrived back at the cave, they found Denit strutting about proudly. A small boar hung roasting on a spit in the center of the cooking fire while Denit bragged to Exen and Gurix about his hunt. The two boys listened raptly, chins in their hands and eyes shining. Pell and Boro sat down to listen too as Denit described his chase. “So I just kept trotting after it and trotting after it. I felt so tired it hurt to breathe, but I could tell that the boar was getting worn out too. Then it started up a little ravine. I thought I would die going upslope but then the boar came to a spot where the ravine was choked off with brush. For a little bit it cast about looking for an exit but, finding none, it turned and charged right at me! Its head lowered, its tusks swinging side to side, its beady little eyes glowing red, it attacked! Knowing how much we needed the food, I didn’t give an inch. I dropped to one knee, my spear butted to the ground behind me and the boar spitted itself right below the breastbone. It dropped in its tracks.”

  Pell was musing to himself about the fact that it must have been the same brush clogged ravine he and Boro came through earlier and must have been the kill they saw the blood from when he heard Denit continue…

  “Yeah, good thing Pell wasn’t there. He probably would have thrown a couple of wild pebbles and frightened the boar away.”

  Pell started. A sick feeling came over him. Everyone was going to think he couldn’t hunt—maybe he couldn’t. Inwardly he raged at Denit. “Yeah, how come when Boro and I were in that same ravine on the way home from our hunt it looked like a pig got stuck in the brush and some great hunter just walked up and stuck his spear up its ass? Charging? Ha! Hey, did anyone see a wound in the front of that pig?” Pell looked around. “Where’s the skin?”

  Pell found himself on the floor of the cave with Denit astride his chest, hitting him. His arms were trapped under Denit’ knees but he convulsed one knee up to strike Denit in the back and knock him forward. Denit fell forward a moment but quickly sat back and resumed flailing at Pell’s head. Pell had turned his head and was trying to bite Denit on the thigh when Roley walked over and broke up the fight with a few well-placed blows.

  Later Pell cowered in the corner, hurt much worse by Roley’s single cup handed blow to the side of his head than the many rained on him by Denit— dazedly he thought to himself that it was little wonder no one challenged the massiveRoley for leadership of the Aldans.

  After several days of successful hunts, that night developed into a joyous celebration. They feasted on the leftover deer from the day before and the roast pig from Denit’ hunt. Pell was sitting by the cooking fire, sucking the marrow out of a couple of ribs. He didn’t feel the celebratory mood of the others—though he thought to himself that life probably couldn’t get much better. After all he had a full stomach and the warm fire made for a pleasant feeling all over.

  Still, he felt uneasy—worried about his status in the tribe. Though gratified he was amazed that Roley had cuffed Denit as well as Pell in stopping Pell’s fight with Roley’s own son. Donte had told Pell that Roley had respected Pell’s father Garen tremendously. Perhaps that led to Roley’s relatively soft spot for Pell—if Roley could be said to have a soft spot. Perhaps a “not so hard spot?” Nonetheless, Pell had gnawing doubts that Roley would continue even a pretense of fairness if it came to something really important. After all Roley had never really singled Pell out for special treatment or even tried to teach him to hunt. What if Pell never got any better at throwing? He resolved to try flint knapping again. He must find another skill! Somehow he had to become a useful and productive member of the tribe!

  Having made that resolution he sat back, feeling contented. He saw that the healer squatted near him, brewing one of his concoctions. It seemed, once again, to consist mostly of hemp leaves. “Who’s sick?” Pell queried.

  Pont glared over at him. “None of your business, ginja boy!”

  Pell started back. The healer’s answer was practically dripping vitriol. It was a bad portent to be on poor terms with the tribe’s healer, even the seemingly invincible Roley carefully stayed on the healer’s good side.

  Pell had often wondered why? It seemed to him that Pont could do little enough when you were sick. However, his hemp concoctions eased pain and dulled the worry. Also his chanting rituals seemed to have a calming effect on everyone, not just the victim of sickness. Just now Pell found himself in need of some calm, having just relaxed from his earlier concerns. He felt a gibbering terror run through his stomach. “Pont…” he mumbled, trying desperately to think of a way to apologize, but the healer had already turned his back and shuffled toward his furs. Pell watched him wide eyed, wondering what he could do to salvage this mess. After a moment he realized that the healer was once again simply partaking of his own medicine. Pell wondered a moment whether Pont might actually be sick and treating himself? Or was he only taking the hemp because he liked the way it made him feel? Pell resolved to collect some hemp for Pont when the leaves began to grow again—perhaps that would soften Pont’s attitude towards him.

  Pell fell asleep that night with a persistently gnawing feeling of sick dread. Something terrible was going to happen…

  However, the next day passed uneventfully as the tribe rested, gorged on meat and generally laid about. The day after that broke clear and cold with a few high clouds but almost windless. Pell was set to building up the fire and soon the tribe was warming themselves about it. They breakfasted on the remains of the deer and pig but there really wasn’t enough to gorge everyone again. Roley looked about outside and proclaimed it a fine day for a “great hunt.” Soon the men and older boys had set about sharpening their wooden “char” tipped spears. The good flint tipped spears were checked and their bindings tightened. Pell and Boro practiced throwing with some spearshafts and Pell spent some time trying to get a better point on his two hunting spears. He scraped the points with a shard of flint and then charred them a little in the fire. He wished for a good flint point and once again wished that his mother had somehow saved him some of his father’s good flint spear points. However, she had used the last of them in trades long ago, trades that had helped the two of them out of difficult situations. Now when she needed something she couldn’t get any other way she was forced to mate with one of the hunters. Fortunately it seemed that the men always wanted sex, but none of them desired a long term mating with her. Pell worried about what would happen if she got with child again. Without a mate it would be Pell’s responsibility to be the man of their little family, something he was far from ready for. Pell was embarrassed to be grateful that, though she had swelled with child three times since Garen died, every time the child had come too early to live.

  The band of hunters set out down their little valley and into the big
basin surrounding the great river to the south. When they broke out of the forest to reach one of the big open areas of the basin they saw it dotted here and there with animals grazing on the sere grass. Roley took out his “far-seer” and held it up to his eye. It consisted of an elaborately carved stick with a flattened area at the tip in which a small hole had been bored. Peering through the hole markedly improved the vision of many, producing a sharp image from a blurred one. Pell had heard some of the hunters discussing it one night. Tando claimed that it only helped the vision of those whose vision wasn’t very good. He said that, using the “far-seer” Roley only saw things that Tando had already seen. Tando said he had looked through the far seer and could see no better with it than without it. However, Pont said it had great magic and chanted over it before each hunt.

  Pell had bored holes in several small wood chips and found that they improved his distance vision without any magic words. He wondered if it worked like “squinting.” Members of the tribe whose vision wasn’t good could often be seen squinting at things in the distance. Pell thought they were looking through small slits between their eyelids like the little hole in his chips and the far seer. Maybe the “far seer” just formed a better slit than squinting did? Pell wisely told no one of his thoughts.

  The hunters passed the “far-seer” around and discussed the animals that they saw. They were nothing like the big herds that would be present in summer consuming the richer forage available then, but infinitely better than the empty dried fields of winter. Pell wanted to look through the “far-seer” himself, especially to settle his curiosity regarding whether it worked better than his little chips, but the hunters saw little need for the boys to survey the plain. Roley outlined a plan to encircle some antelope and trap them between the hunters. The men formed into a wide, crescent moon, skirmish line with the points forward. This plan would take tremendous coordination from the group. While the circle was large and the hunters were far apart, hunters on the part of the circle an animal broke toward were to make a great deal of noise in order to drive the animal back into the center of the circle. Once the circle closed to a point where they were within a few paces of one another, the boys were to continue making noise so that the antelope would shy toward one of the men who would spear it. “Remember, don’t throw your spear unless the animal has already broken out of the circle!” Roley reminded the younger hunters. “Stab yes, but if you throw and you miss, someone across the circle from you may be hurt.”

  “That means you especially, Pell.” Denit jeered. Many of the group snickered and Pell felt his face flush.

  Roley muttered, “That means all of you ginja fools.”

  Denit brightened, “Ginja fools? That’d be Pell and, maybe Boro?” He laughed again while Pell and Boro flushed with anger. However, neither of the two friends were brave enough to say anything back.

  Roley stayed in the center of the line and they walked on. He would occasionally wave someone into place but led entirely with silent gestures. Pell tried to watch his own step and cringed inwardly whenever he stepped on a twig t or otherwise made some noise. An hour or so later they came on three antelope. There were more in the distance but these three were grazing away from the rest of the herd.

  Roley stopped and began waving the points out around the three animals. As he had been taught Pell did not come nearer to the antelope but tried to walk around them in a circle while maintaining the same distance. The antelope seemed nervous but continued to graze while looking up repeatedly. As the circle began to close one of them made a quick dash toward the closing space but Denit, who was on the right point, dashed into the opening, yelling and waving. It skittered nervously away and back to the center of the hunters’ circle. With much gesturing Roley dressed their ranks and then got them moving slowly toward the center. The animals were obviously alerted now and pranced nervously about, skittering this way and that. When the antelope got too far from center the hunters on that part of the circumference shouted and dashed about, driving them back into the center.

  Then one of the antelope bolted towards the gap between Pell and Tando. Pell shouted, waved his spear and dashed toward the gap. Tando charged in from the other side of the gap but then Pell found himself skidding face first into the grasses, tripped over a stump or rock. Panicked he leapt back to his feet but the animal was already passing behind him. He dashed back into the gap that had formed between himself and Bonat during this fiasco. Another animal was bounding for that gap! Pell shouted and ran but realized that it was also going to escape! In a fury he cast his spear after it had crossed the circle on its way out. To Pell’s dismay his throw was so wide that it came within three paces of Bonat! Cringing inwardly he looked to the center of their circle. Yes the last antelope remained! But as Pell’s spirits surged he saw the animal gather itself and dash for a gap on the other side. It flew between Boro and Gontra despite their attempts to frighten it back to center.

  Dejectedly they gathered for a postmortem on the hunt. As Pell had feared Denit had a few choice words for Pell, “Can’t you even stay on your feet for a hunt, you ginja fool? Are you really that clumsy or did you just lie down to take a nap?”

  Pell hung his head. He had no spirit to argue and, even though he knew that Denit was using the term “ginja” as a swearword, nonetheless it struck terror in Pell’s heart.

  Roley tried to cheer them up. “This encirclement plan is going to work. We just need to try it again.” Pell realized with a start that Roley wasn’t confident about this hunting method and wondered whom Roley had learned it from.

  Soon they were spread out in their skirmish line again and advancing across the plain. It was another hour or so before they came on a large boar with a couple of sows. Pell was nervous, boars could be dangerous and this one was huge, nearly chest high and so dark it was almost black. Its tusks looked to be as long as Pell’s foot. At least they let the circle close considerably before becoming at all agitated. When they did take notice of the hunters, it was with a belligerent attitude, heaving their heads up and down and slashing the air with their tusks. Then they began making short charges directly at members of the hunting party. To Pell’s relief none of the charges were toward him. The circle became smaller and smaller and then the big one took a full charge on Boro. Though he appeared to be terrified, Boro nonetheless did as he had been taught and dropped to one knee. He planted the butt of his spear in the ground and held the point out at the charging beast. The boar spitted itself on Boro’s spear, bowling the boy away. The two sows exploded out of the circle to either side of Boro and the insanely thrashing boar. Gontra appeared out of the dust and began stabbing the boar repeatedly with his spear. Others quickly joined the melee. Pell turned from the excitement and checked on Boro. His friend was limping a little, but so excited he could hardly hold still. “I did it! It was my spear that killed it, wasn’t it?” He hopped up and down in delight.

  Other hunters came over to congratulate Boro as well. Pell, initially excited for Boro, found himself mired in jealousy and dismay. Until now, when he worried about his own inadequacies, at least he had felt superior to Boro. Now Boro had a major kill—of a charging boar no less! Pell’s pride over the kill of his rabbit seemed a petty thing now, especially since he knew that it was a trick with a thong, rather than true hunting skill or courage that had brought the rabbit down.

  As Pell stood scuffing his toe and worrying about his own predicament, he slowly became aware that a silence had fallen over the group. He looked quickly about for a cause. Exen’s face was ashen. Pell followed Exen’s eyes, which were staring at his father Gontra. As Pell took in the scene he realized that Gontra was grimacing and holding one hand with his other. The veins were standing out on his usually pleasant face and no trace of his customary grin was evident. “I fell,” he said, as if that explained it all.

  Everyone gathered around to gawk, so it was a while before Pell could see but it became evident that Gontra had injured his finger. Pell saw that it was be
nt back the same way that his own pointer finger had been several days ago! Pont looked at it briefly, and then rummaged in his pouch. “You’ve done the same thing that that ginja fool Pell did to his finger. Don’t worry, I fixed that worthless piece of boar’s scat, I’ll fix your finger too. Here, chew on this.”

  Pell choked on his rage. He wanted to shout out that he had fixed his own finger! Pont hadn’t done it! How could the hemp Pont was giving Gontra possibly fix a finger? However, when he looked at the others they were all looking relieved to have the healer take charge of the situation. Other than Pell, no one appeared to doubt the healer’s ability to fix Gontra’s finger. With dismay, Pell recognized that, tenuous as his own situation was, he’d best not express any opinions regarding Pont’s abilities.

  The hunters fell to hacking the boar up into pieces small enough to carry back. Somehow Pell was not surprised to find that he had been assigned to carry the intestines. Everyone else was packed up and had started back before he finished squeezing out their contents and had coiled them into some kind of a mess that he could carry. He thought to himself that it was good thing summer wasn’t here; he’d be covered with flies. Of course, during the good hunting of summer they usually didn’t bother with intestines. He set out, up into the little valley leading back to the Aldans’ cave, hiking rapidly to catch up with the others.

  When they came in sight of the cave the women saw them carrying haunches of boar and began to celebrate. Then Tonday cried out and came running out toward the group. She had seen that Gontra wasn’t carrying anything, rather just shambling along holding his one hand in the other. She took in the drugged look in Gontra’s eyes and began wailing even before looking at his finger. Gontra tried to console her in his own gruff way, but even in his glazed over state, his own apprehension was easily evident. In a few minutes, Tonday’s hysterics degenerated. She half lay, half sat at Gontra’s feet, tearing at her hair. The other women and children came out to the group and soon Gontra and Tonday’s little daughter Tila was adding her own hysteria to the mix. Though she was too little to understand what was wrong, she readily picked up her mother’s distress.