The valley of horses_ a novel - Jean M. Auel [148]
“Baby! How am I going to get this hole dug,” she said, exasperated, but laughing, which encouraged him. “Here, let me get you something to drag.” She rummaged through the pack baskets, which she had taken off Whinney to let her graze comfortably, and found the deerskin she had brought along as a ground cover in case it rained. “Drag this, Baby,” she motioned, then pulled it along the ground in front of him. It was all he needed. He couldn’t resist a hide dragged along the ground. He was so delighted with himself, dragging the hide between his front legs, that she had to smile.
In spite of the cub’s assistance, Ayla did get the hole dug and covered with an old hide brought for the purpose, and a layer of dirt. The hide was barely held in place with four pegs, and the first time she had it ready, Baby had to investigate. He fell into the trap, then jumped out with shocked indignation, but stayed away afterward.
Once the pitfall was prepared, Ayla whistled for Whinney and circled wide to get behind a herd of onagers. She couldn’t bring herself to hunt horses again, and even the onager made her uncomfortable. The half-ass looked too much like a horse, but the herd was in such a good position for a chase into a pitfall that she couldn’t pass it up.
After Baby’s playful antics around the hole, she was even more concerned that he would be a detriment to the hunt, but once they got behind the herd, he assumed a different mien. He stalked the onagers, the same way he had stalked Whinney’s tail, just as though he might actually bring one down, though he was far too young. She realized then that his games were cub-size versions of adult-lion hunting skills he would need. He was a hunter from birth; his understanding of the need for stealth was instinctive.
Ayla discovered, to her surprise, that the cub was actually a help. When the herd was close enough to the trap that the scent of human and lion was causing them to swerve, she urged Whinney forward, whooping and yelping to start a stampede. The cub sensed this was the signal and took off after the animals, too. The smell of cave lion added to the onagers’ panic. They headed straight for the pitfall.
Ayla slid off Whinney’s back, spear in hand, running at full speed toward a screaming onager trying to scramble out of the hole, but Baby was ahead of her. He jumped on the back of the animal—not knowing yet the lion’s fatal suffocating hold of the prey’s throat—and, with milk teeth too small to have much effect, bit at the back of the onager’s neck. But it was early experience for him.
If he had still lived with the pride, no adult would have allowed him to get in the way of a kill. Any attempt would have been immediately stopped with a murderous swipe. For all their speed, lions were only sprinters, while their prey were long-distance runners. If the lions’ kill wasn’t made in the first surge of speed, the chances were they would lose it. They couldn’t afford to let a cub practice his hunting skills, except through play, until he was nearly grown.
But Ayla was human. She had the speed of neither prey nor predator, as she lacked claw and fang. Her weapon was her brain. With it she had devised means to overcome her lack of natural hunting endowments. The trap—that allowed the slower, weaker human to hunt—gave even a cub the opportunity to try.
When Ayla arrived, breathless, the onager was wild-eyed with fear, trapped in a pit with a cave lion kitten snarling on his back trying to get a death hold with baby teeth. The woman ended the animal’s struggles with a sure thrust of her spear. With the cub hanging on—his sharp little teeth had broken the skin—the onager went down. Only when all movement had stopped did Baby let go. Ayla’s smile was a mother’s smile of pride and encouragement as the cave lion cub, standing on top of an animal much bigger than himself, full of pride and