The clan of the cave bear_ a novel - Jean M. Auel [223]
“If Zoug were here, we would have won the sling competition,” Crug motioned. “No one could have beaten him.”
“Except Ayla,” Goov commented with guarded gestures. “Too bad she couldn’t compete.”
“We don’t need a woman to win,” Broud gestured. “The sling contest doesn’t count for that much, anyway. Brun will win the bola-throwing, he always has. And there’s still the spear-and-running contest.”
“But Voord already won the running competition; he stands a good chance to win in running-and-spear-stabbing, too,” Droog said. “And Gorn did well with the club.”
“Just wait until we show them our mammoth hunt. Our clan is bound to win,” Broud answered. Hunt reenactments were a part of many ceremonies; occasionally they happened spontaneously after an especially exciting hunt. Broud enjoyed acting them out. He knew he was good at evoking the sense of excitement and drama of the hunt and loved being the center of attention.
But hunt reenactments served a purpose greater than showing off. They were instructive. With expressive pantomime, and a few props, they demonstrated hunting techniques and tactics to youngsters and other clans. It was a way of developing and sharing skills. Had they been asked, everyone would have agreed that the prize awarded to the clan that came out best in the complicated competition was status: to be acknowledged first among peers. But there was another prize awarded, though it was not acknowledged. The competitions sharpened skills necessary for survival.
“We’ll win if you lead the hunt dance, Broud,” Vorn said. The ten-year-old boy, fast approaching manhood, still idolized the future leader. Broud courted his adoration by admitting him into the men’s discussions whenever he could.
“Too bad your race doesn’t count, Vorn. I was watching; it wasn’t even close. You were way out in front. But it’s good practice for next time,” Broud said. Vorn glowed under the praise.
“We’ve still got a good chance,” Droog motioned. “But it could go the other way. Gorn is strong, he gave you a good fight in the wrestling match, Broud. I wasn’t sure you could take him. Norg’s second must be proud of the son of his mate; he’s grown since the last Gathering. I think he’s the biggest man here.”
“He’s got the strength, all right,” Goov said. “It showed when he won with the club, but Broud is quicker, and almost as strong. Gorn came in a close second.”
“And Nouz is good with that sling. I think he must have seen Zoug last time and decided to work on it; he just didn’t want to let an older man beat him again,” Crug added. “If he’s practiced as much with the bola, he may give Brun a good contest. Voord is a fast runner, but I thought you were going to catch him, Broud. That one was close, too, you were just a step behind him.”
“Droog makes the best tools,” Grod gestured. The laconic man seldom volunteered comment.
“Selecting the best and bringing them here is one thing, Grod, but it will take luck to make them well with everyone watching. That young man from Norg’s clan has skill,” Droog replied.
“That’s one contest where you’ll have the advantage just because he is younger, Droog. He’ll be more nervous and you have more experience in competing. You’ll be able to concentrate better,” Goov encouraged.
“But it still takes luck.”
“They all take luck,” Crug said. “I still think old Dorv tells a better story than anyone.”
“You’re just used to him, Crug,” Goov motioned. “That’s a hard competition to judge. Even some of the women tell a good story.”
“But not as exciting as the hunt dances. I think I saw Norg’s clan talking about how they hunted a rhino, but they stopped when they saw me,” Crug said. “They may show that hunt.”
Oga approached the men diffidently and signaled that their evening meal was ready. They waved her off. She hoped it wouldn’t take them too long to decide to come and eat. The longer they waited, the longer it would delay them from joining the other women who were gathering to tell stories, and she didn’t want to miss any of it. Usually it was the older women who