The Mammoth Hunters - Jean M. Auel [368]
The old she-mammoth sunk to her knees, tried once to rise up, then fell over on her side. Her trunk rose once more in an effort to cry a warning, then slowly, almost gracefully, dropped to the ground. Brecie touched a spear to the head of the valiant old cow, praised her brave struggle, and thanked the Great Mother for the sacrifice which allowed Earth’s Children to survive.
Brecie was not the only one who stood over a brave mammoth and thanked the Mother. Teams of hunters had informally grouped together for a multiple attack on each animal. Spears that were thrown allowed them to stay out of range of the tusks and trunks and heavy feet of the mammoths they singled out, but they also had to watch out for the animals that were the prey of other hunters in the close quarters. Blood pouring out of the wounded and dying beasts softened the ice of the partially frozen ground, then froze in bright red slicks, making footing hazardous. The icy canyon was a melee of hunters’ shouts and mammoths’ screams, and the glimmering walls amplified and reverberated every sound.
After watching a few moments, Ayla went after a young bull, whose heavy tusks were long and curved, but still useful as weapons. She settled the heavy spear on the new thrower, trying to get the right feel. She recalled Brecie saying that the stomach was one of the more vulnerable places on a mammoth, and Ayla had been quite impressed by the disemboweling of the herd matriarch. She took aim and with a hard throw, cast the lethal weapon across the icy canyon.
It flew fast and true, and struck the abdominal cavity. But with the power of the weapon and the strength of her throw, and without others ready to assist, she should have aimed for a more vital spot. A spear in the stomach was not immediately fatal. He was bleeding profusely, mortally wounded, but the pain enraged him, giving him the strength to turn on his attacker. The bull mammoth blared a challenge, lowered his head, and thundered toward the young woman.
The long-distance cast of the spear-thrower gave Ayla her only advantage. She dropped her spears and raced toward a block of ice. But her foot slipped as she tried to climb up. She scrambled behind it just as the huge mammoth slammed into it with all his force. His massive tusks cracked the gigantic block of frozen water in two and jammed it back, knocking the wind out of Ayla. Then screaming his frustration, and his dying, he jabbed and tore at the slab of ice, trying to get at the creature behind it. Suddenly two spears flew in quick succession, and found the maddened bull. One landed in his neck, the other cracked a rib with such tremendous force it reached his heart.
The mammoth crumpled in a heap beside the broken ice. His blood spilled from his wounds into deep red pools that steamed, then chilled, then hardened on the cold glacial ice. Still shaking, Ayla crawled out from behind the block.
“Are you all right?” Talut said, reaching her in time to help her stand up.
“Yes, I think so,” she said, somewhat breathless.
Talut reached for the spear that was sticking out of the mammoth’s chest, gave a mighty heave and yanked it out. A new spate of blood poured forth as Jondalar reached them.
“Ayla, I was certain he had you!” Jondalar said. The look on his face was more than worried. “You should have waited until I came … or someone came to help you. Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Yes, I am, but I’m very glad you two were around,” she said, then smiled. “Hunting mammoth can be exciting.”
Talut studied her carefully for a moment. She’d had a close call. That mammoth almost had her, but she did not seem unusually upset. A little breathless and excited, but that was normal. He grinned and nodded, then examined the point and shaft of his spear. “Hah! It’s still good!” he said. “I can get another one with this sticker!” He waded back into the fray.
Ayla’s eyes followed the