2001_ A Space Odyssey - Arthur C. Clarke [2]
His contentment vanished when he reached the stream. The Others were there. They were there every day, but that did not make it any the less annoying.
There were about thirty of them, and they could not have been distinguished from the members of Moon-Watcher’s own tribe. As they saw him coming, they begun to dance, shake their arms, and shriek on their side of the stream, and his own people replied in kind.
And that was all that happened. Though the man-apes often fought and wrestled one another, their disputes very seldom resulted in serious injuries. Having no claws or fighting canine teeth, and being well protected by hair, they could not inflict much harm on one another. In any event, they had little surplus energy for such unproductive behavior; snarling and threatening was a much more efficient way of asserting their points of view.
The confrontation lasted about five minutes; then the display died out as quickly as it had begun, and everyone drank his fill of the muddy water. Honor had been satisfied; each group had staked its claim to its own territory. This important business having been settled, the tribe moved off along its side of the river. The nearest worthwhile grazing was now more than a mile from the caves, and they had to share it with a herd of large, antelopelike beasts who barely tolerated their presence. They could not be driven away, for they were armed with ferocious daggers on their foreheads — the natural weapons which the man-apes did not possess.
So Moon-Watcher and his companions chewed berries and fruit and leaves and fought off the pangs of hunger — while all around them, competing for the same fodder, was a potential source of more food than they could ever hope to eat. Yet the thousands of tons of succulent meat roaming over the savanna and through the bush was not only beyond their reach; it was beyond their imagination. In the midst of plenty, they were slowly starving to death.
The tribe returned to its cave without incident, in the last light of the day. The injured female who had remained behind cooed with pleasure as Moon-Watcher gave her the berry-covered branch he had brought back, and began to attack it ravenously. There was little enough nourishment here, but it would help her to survive until the wound the leopard had given her had healed, and she could forage for herself again.
Over the valley, a full moon was rising, and a chill wind was blowing down from the distant mountains. It would be very cold tonight — but cold, like hunger, was not a matter for any real concern; it was merely part of the background of life.
Moon-Watcher barely stirred when the shrieks and screams echoed up the slope from one of the lower caves, and he did not need to hear the occasional growl of the leopard to know exactly what was happening. Down there in the darkness old White Hair and his family were fighting and dying, and the thought that he might help in some way never crossed Moon-Watcher’s mind. The harsh logic of survival ruled out such fancies, and not a voice was raised in protest from the listening hillside. Every cave was silent, lest it also attract disaster.
The tumult died away, and presently Moon-Watcher could hear the sound of a body being dragged over rocks. That lasted only a few seconds; then the leopard got a good hold on its kill. It made no further noise as it padded silently away, carrying its victim effortlessly in its jaws.
For a day or two, there would be no further danger here, but