“This hunter has the name of Kerrick, not little-hair. Although Ilgeth should know much about little-hair, since each year he has more skin than hair reaching up above his own eyes.”
There was a great amount of laughter and thigh-slapping at this so that Ilgeth could only scowl and be silent. When Herilak had been sammadar he had used humor often to convince others. But he had other things to say as well and he waited for silence before he spoke again.
“Kerrick’s hair is of importance only to remind us that it was removed by the murgu when they held him prisoner. We must not forget that he can speak with them and understands them. Our stomachs are full because he showed us how the murgu could be killed. We hunted where we knew they could strike. He showed us how we could attack them first and we killed many. When Kerrick talks we will listen.”
There were grunts of agreement at that, so much so that Kerrick had the courage to go on.
“Then we are all of the same mind then that we cannot go north. To the east the land is as barren as here until the shore is reached where the murgu can strike. There is no place to winter there. Nor is there to the west where the land may be good but where the way is barred by Tanu who will not let us pass. Now I ask the question; why do we not go south?”
There were murmurs of astonishment at that, and at least some laughter that died away when Herilak scowled fiercely. He was much respected, for his skill as a battle leader as well as for the strength of his arm, so laughter faded before his displeasure. It was Ulfadan who rose then and spoke of the south.
“I have gone to the edge of the forest to the south, and when I was young even out into the grass that goes on forever. This I found there,” he touched the long tooth strung about his neck. “I was young and foolish enough to risk my life for it. There are no deer there but only murgu that fight and kill. Murgu as tall as trees. There is only death for us to the south. We dare not go that way.”
There were cries of agreement and Kerrick waited until there was silence before he spoke again.
“Let me tell you of murgu, because for many years I lived so far to the south that the snow never came and it was warm always. In that warm land there are murgu that eat grass and graze in the forests and in the swamps. Though they are not like the deer or other animals that we hunt, they can be eaten and their flesh is good. I know, because that is what I ate all those years.”
There was only silence now. Even the women stopped talking to each other, the children ceased their play, as they all listened to Kerrick’s strange and frightening story.
“What Ulfadan has told you is true. There are great murgu who eat the smaller ones. I have seen them and have seen even stranger things as well. But that is not important. What is important is this. How do the murgu-who-walk-like-Tanu live there? How do they exist among the killing murgu? They eat the meat of animals just as we do. Why are they not killed by the murgu as high as trees?”
There were many reasons he could have mentioned, but none of these were relevant now. Only one thing was and he was determined to speak of that and that alone.
“They are not killed because the murgu-who-walk-like-Tanu kill anything that threatens them or their meat animals. They kill them with this.”
He bent and picked up the hèsotsan that lay on the ground beside him, held it up high. There was not a sound now and every eye was upon it.
“No matter how large the beast, this will kill it. A murgu that would need all your spears and all your arrows to kill will fall dead when a single dart from this pricks its hide.”
“I have seen this,” Herilak broke in, bitterness in his voice. “I have seen the murgu come from the sea with these death-sticks, seen all in my sammad fall before them. Have seen the largest mastodon fall before them when the death-stick cracked. Kerrick speaks the truth.”
“And now we have many of them,” Kerrick said. “Many of them, darts as well. I know how to care for these death-stick creatures and I can show you the manner in which it is done. I know how to make them send out the darts of death, and will show that to you as well. If you go south there will be good hunting, good forage for the mastodons. And with these—” he held the weapon high above his head so all could see “—only certain death for the murgu.”
After this there was excited talk and much argument, but no decision. Kerrick had eaten little during the day and when he saw Herilak leave he went after him. They went to the fire where the women were roasting meat on green boughs, brewing bark tea as well. Merrith, the woman of Ulfadan, saw them sit down and brought them food to eat. She had few teeth left, but she was wide and very strong and the younger women did as she ordered.
“I hope the death-sticks will obey us as they do you, or we will all leave our bones in the south.” Her voice was husky, almost like a hunter’s. She spoke her mind freely.
“Do you think, then, that we will go south?” Herilak asked, talking with difficulty around the mouthful of meat.
“They will argue all night, but that is what they will decide in the end. They talk too much. We will go south because there is no other way to go.” She looked at Kerrick with frank curiosity. “What are these murgu like who held you captive? Are their tents big? Do they use mastodons — or giant murgu to pull their travois?”
Kerrick smiled at the thought, then tried to explain. “They don’t live in tents, but grow special trees like tents that they sleep in.”
Merrith laughed loudly. “You are telling me wicked stories. How can you load a tree behind a mastodon when you move to another campsite?” The rest of the women around the fire were looking their way, listening as well, and there was much giggling at this thought.
“It is the truth — because they stay in the same place all of the time so they do not have to move their sleeping trees.”
“Now I know that you are telling me stories. If they stayed in one place they would hunt and kill all of the animals there. They would pick all the fruit and then they would die of starvation. Such a funny story!”
“This is true,” Herilak said. “That is the way that they live. I have been there and I have seen them, but I did not understand them. They do not need to hunt because they keep all of their animals in one place so they cannot escape, then kill them whenever they want to. Is that not the way it is?” he asked Kerrick.
Merrith had shrugged her shoulders at such useless stories and gone back to her fire, but the other women remained, eyes wide as they listened to this wild talk. True or not, the stories were worth hearing.
“That is only part of it,” Kerrick said. “A lot of things happen, and different murgu do different things. Some clear the land and build the fences so the animals can be kept safe, yet kept apart. Then there are the guards who take care of the males during the breeding season so the young are born safe. Some raise food for the animals, others kill them when the time comes. Others fish. It is all very complex.”
“The males take care of the babies?” one of the women asked in a quiet and nasal voice. The older woman beside her struck her.
“Be quiet, Armun,” she said.
“It is a good question,” Kerrick said, trying to see who had spoken, but she had her face turned away with her hair held over it. “The murgu lay eggs and the males hatch the eggs. Then when the young ones come out of the eggs they go into the ocean to live. They do not take care of babies the way we do.”
“They are filthy and should all be killed!” Merrith called out, for she had been listening all the time. “It is not right that women should hear these kind of stories.”