Kront allowed the clan a brief respite to stop and rest. A portion of their meagre supply of dried meat was passed around and they took the opportunity to drink from a nearby snow-fed stream.
All the while Kront stood sentinel atop a large boulder, and as he scanned the horizon any sign of approaching danger he caught a movement in his peripheral vision.
He crouched down to hide his position and gave a low whistle which attracted the attention of his younger brother. Kront signalled with his hand for his fellow hunter to join him.
The young man climbed up beside Kront and the clan leader silently pointed with his spear. Together they studied the horizon.
His brother nodded excitedly as he caught sight of the distant figure with its wide spread of horns. ‘A bull.’
They quickly scrambled down and Kront assembled the men. ‘Cattle’, he told them, and pointed.
***
The men were all keenly aware of how important it was for the clan’s survival that they catch up to, and slay, the distant animal. As one they set off at a trot to find their prey, leaving the women and children to follow at a more leisurely pace.
***
Kront’s was a seasoned hunter and unerringly led them to where they had last seen their target. They found the animal’s spoor several hours later and relished the thought of the feast that would follow the slaughter.
Several moons had waxed and waned since they had been forced to leave their former hunting grounds, and take to the long and tortuous trail over the snowy mountain range in search of a new home.
Few in numbers, they had been unable to do battle when a far larger tribe from the south had usurped their former hunting territory, and now they had been driven further and further into the wintery north to find a new home.
Hunger drove the hunters on, but they were forced to come to a sudden halt when they reached a wide but shallow river bed and found that all signs of the fleeing animal had disappeared.
The hunters could clearly see where the bull had entered the stream but could find no trace of where it had emerged on the far bank. Kront split his team into two groups and they made their way up and down both sides of the river, but nowhere was there a mark to be discerned. It was as though the animal had disappeared off the face of the earth.
The disappointed men gathered to discuss their dilemma when Kront suddenly held up his spear to silence them.
After a moment or two of utter silence a distant sound could be heard. To Kront’s experienced ear it seemed to have come from the direction of a nearby wall of solid rock, and was the echoing rattle of an animal moving over loose stones.
Curious, Kront signalled his men to spread out and move quietly in the direction of the sound.
As they came closer to the soaring wall of stone, the bank of the river became harder to negotiate and they were forced to climb down into the river bed itself to continue travelling upstream.
Kront noticed a small amount of mud being carried by the normally clear water of the stream and guessed that the bull had done exactly what they were doing which was why it hadn’t left a trail on the river’s bank.
Sheer cliffs now towered over them and Kront wondered where the animal could be hiding as there was now no open ground between his hunters and the sheer rock wall.
His question was answered as they followed the river to the base of the cliff where it suddenly took a sharp turn to the right, and then a short distance beyond, a turn to the left. Kront saw that a curtain of rock had been carved out of the sheer cliff face by the action of the running water and this had disguised the true course of the river.
Now the hunters could see that a narrow passage had been gouged through the mountain by the rushing stream while at the far end sunlight was pouring down on a hidden valley laying the end of the shadowy defile.
Even in the dim shadows of the encroaching rock walls, Kront could see his brother’s look of anticipation as the hunters quickly made their way toward the sunlight.
***
After the darkness of the gorge the hunters were forced to stand for a few moments at the valley’s opening to allow their eyes to adjust to the bright sunlight.
Then Kront silently signalled to his men who spread out in a long line amongst the trees that grew along the river while he took the opportunity to study their surroundings and decide on their next move.
He noted that the river wound its way across a wide grassy meadow until it came to a further line of cliffs opposite where they now stood. There the stream emerged as if by magic from a point half way up the cliff face and fell as a sheet of water that caught the sunlight and burst into a rainbow of shimmering colours in the sunlight.
Beside the river at the far end of the valley a small herd of cattle grazed, and the bull that the hunters had followed moved confidently toward his cows.
Kront smiled in delight at the prospect of fresh meat while he studied the valley more closely. He noted that it was surrounded by soaring cliffs and that he and his men were now standing guard as its one and only entrance.
After all their trials Kront could hardly believe that the gods had chosen to smile on the clan this day. The herd was trapped and his hunters now had complete control over the slaughter that was to come.
Kront motioned his men to move forward, their razor-sharp flint tipped spears at the ready. The gods were certainly smiling upon them as the slight breeze that ruffled the leaves was at their face and the herd would be unable to sense their presence until the hunters were upon them. He knew the clan would eat well tonight.
Slowly and silently the men moved forward and formed themselves into small killing groups. They knew from experience that one spear alone would not do enough damage to bring down one of these large animals, but with two or three piercing their thick hide even the mightiest animal would soon bleed to death.
At last the hunters were in position, their spears held high, ready to strike at Kront’s command.
He was about to open his mouth and yell the fateful cry when the air was suddenly torn apart by a sound that none of those who were present had ever heard before. Many times louder than the claps of thunder that usually accompanied the god’s display of displeasure when storms wracked the skies, it caused the hunters to fall to their knees in fear, with hands clapped over their ears in a vain effort to stop the sudden pain.
A second, and then a third explosion rent the air around them and Kront looked up in abject fear and saw a ball of fire race cross the sky.
The piercing sound also had the same effect on the cattle. They crashed about in terror and screamed like as though a hunters’ spears had pierced them. The urge to escape the dreaded sound infected them, and because they were hemmed hard up against the cliff face they stampeded in the only clear direction open to them, which was straight back across the valley and directly into the cordon of Kront’s hunters.
With their spears now lowered and their killing groups in disarray, the hunters had no choice but to try to evade the solid mass of charging animals. Most dived behind a tree or large boulder to protect themselves from the herd’s thrashing hooves and slashing horns but Kront’s brother was caught in open space with no protection, and despite his desperate efforts to outrun the crazed animals, he was pierced through the back by the great bull’s crashing charge. The animal swung his head to rid himself of the unwanted burden and the unfortunate hunter’s body was cast aside and crushed under the following press of maddened animals.
Despite the sight of his brother’s death, Kront’s experience as a hunter and his desperation to find food for his clan came to the fore, and as the herd smashed their way past his hiding place, he stepped out and thrust his spear into the side of the last animal in line.
But a single spear was not enough to bring it down, and the herd was soon past him, rushing for the only