Chapter One

Primitive Culture

Yari grasped the last of the kindling. She thrust it toward the dying embers. The men were late in their return from the morning hunt, which was just as well. The fog had hampered the necessary preparation and cut a chill in the lungs. The dew still lay asleep amongst the leaves and grass.

Had it been a year since Sharak had left? It seemed longer. There had been no word, no sign. And now so many were gone. If only he knew how few were left. If only he knew how his stubborn arrogance had nearly jeopardized the lives of the entire clan.

She was angry with him. Yet she would hate him later should she see his face this morning. The joy would instantly scorch the fog of this day and in her heart. Each night she gazed into the sky, the questions remained. Was he looking skyward as well? Was he still of this earth? Did he have any thoughts of her?

The men would be here soon. Yari knew she had no time for such idle thoughts. Sharak's fate may never be known. The work must be done. Moki and Sira had cleared the circle, Yari shook the blankets and placed them once again around the great fire. The fog clamped the throats of the chicket birds. A tree frigget's chirp was all that broke the windless silence.

Although it had been nearly six months since the Ugarin had attacked their clan, voices remained soft and words short. Any noise may be heard by unwelcome ears. Laughter remained a distant hidden treasure. Smiles were a poor replacement, yet it was all they could afford. Pouches must be filled with water. Sharpened knives must be ready and positioned. They were ready. Moki and Sira sat beside her.

Moki whispered, "I worry. I fear they will not return."

"We will see them soon. Have faith," Yari assured her.

The tree frigget suddenly swallowed it's song. A flurry of wings broke the silence. Sira gasped, quickly covering her lips. The gani were easy to spot as their wings whistled through the trees. What had startled them? The backdrop of the trees stared back revealing no answer. The snap of a branch followed by another, sent the silent nuggut scampering to safe refuge in the tree. Something was coming. Two dari sprang from the face of the trees, leaping over fallen timbers, disappearing beyond the bend of the saplings. The javis birds who were silent all morning now mocked the trees with repetitious alarm. The signs were clear. Men were coming. But what men?

Yari clutched her knife. How could she have been so unprepared. She knew the dangers. Quickly, she motioned Moki and Sira to the giant trunk. She dashed to the rock, ducking her head of black hair. The cold knife handle seemed to burn in her palm. The javis birds now directly overhead continued their screams, drowning the clues. Dare she look? Temptation called her eyes over the rock. Yari scanned the trees glancing back at the trunk. Distant voices echoed softly with indistinguishable gaps of silence. The forest lay frozen as before.

But wait...Over there...men! She strained her eyes. She let go her breath. She felt the knife fall at her feet. They had returned. Was Sharak with them? How many times she had asked that question. How well she knew the answer. No, it was Tovik and the others. Feeling only relief she stood to greet them. The fog remained.