The clan of the cave bear_ a novel - Jean M. Auel [45]
Zoug, who had lived with Grod since the death of his mate, had worked to improve his skill with the sling after he retired from the ranks of Brun’s hunters. It, and the bola, were the most difficult weapons for the men of the clan to master. Though their muscular, heavy-boned, and slightly bowed arms were tremendously powerful, they could perform functions as delicate and precise as knapping flint. The development of their arm joints, particularly the way muscles and tendons were attached to bones, gave them precise manual dexterity coupled with unbelievable strength. But there was a penalty. That same joint development restricted arm movement. They could not make a full, free-swinging arc, which limited their ability to hurl objects. Not fine control but leverage was the price they paid for strength.
Their spear was not a javelin, thrown across a distance, but rather a lance thrust at close range with great force. Training with spear or club was little more than developing powerful muscles, but learning to use a sling or a bola took years of practice and concentration. The sling, a strip of flexible leather held together at both ends and whirled around the head to gain momentum before flinging the round pebble held in the bulging cup at the middle, took great effort, and Zoug was proud of his ability to sling a stone accurately. He was equally proud that Brun called upon him to train young hunters in the use of that weapon.
While Zoug and Dorv ranged the hillsides hunting with slings, the women had foraged over the same terrain, and the tantalizing aroma of cooking food whetted the appetites of the hunters. It made them realize that hunting was hungry work. They did not have long to wait.
The men relaxed after the meal, replete with satisfaction, retelling the incidents of the exciting hunt for their own pleasure and the benefit of Zoug and Dorv. Broud, glowing with his new status and the hearty congratulations of his new peers, noticed Vorn looking at him with unabashed admiration. Until that morning, Broud and Vorn had been equals, and Vorn had been his only male companion among the children of the clan since Goov had become a man.
Broud remembered hanging around hunters just returned from the hunt as Vorn was doing. No more would he have to stand on the fringes ignored by the men as he eagerly watched them tell their stories; no more would he be subject to the commands of his mother and the other women calling him away to help with the chores. He was a hunter now, a man. His manhood status lacked only the final ceremony, and that would be part of the cave ceremony, which would make it especially memorable and lucky.
When that happened, he would be the lowest-ranked male, but it mattered little to him. It would change, his place was foreordained. He was the son of the mate of the leader; someday the mantle of leadership would fall to him. Vorn had been a pest sometimes, but now Broud could afford to be magnanimous. He walked over to the four-year-old boy, not unaware that Vorn’s eyes lit up with eager anticipation when he saw the new hunter approaching.
“Vorn, I think you’re old enough,” Broud motioned a little pompously, trying to seem more manly. “I will make a spear for you. It’s time you began training to be a hunter.”
Vorn squirmed with delight, pure adulation shining out of his eyes as he looked up at the young man who had so recently gained the coveted status of hunter.
“Yes,” he nodded in vigorous agreement. “I’m old enough, Broud,” the youngster motioned shyly. He gestured toward the stout shaft with the dark bloodstained point. “Could I touch it?”
Broud laid the point of his spear on the ground in front of the boy. Vorn reached out a tentative finger and touched the dried blood of the huge bison that now lay on the ground in front of the cave. “Were you scared, Broud?” he asked.
“Brun says all hunters are nervous