FAMILY TREE Marks

Copyright (c) 2019 by Randall R. Peterson ALL RIGHTS RESERVED This is a work of fiction. All persons, locations and actions are from the author's imagination or have been used in a fictitious manner.

FAMILY TREE

“MARKS”

By R. Peterson

Pangaea …about three-hundred and eighty-million, six-hundred and twenty-eight thousand, seven-hundred and sixty-three sunrises ago …

            Gawa was worried, the gatherers had been gone for more than a hand’s fingers of sun widths and it was starting to get dark. The cave they had found the summer before alongside the river provided good shelter and a natural hole in the high ceiling allowed smoke from the fire to escape but food was beginning to be harder to find. She wrapped rabbit furs around her son and pulled He Who Stares next to her. He was more than two finger hands of seasons but still seemed like a baby, although he could talk better than most of his grown elders. “I love you mama,” he murmured.

While the other children of the cave spent time walking along the stream trying to knock fish from the water with sticks or pretending they were leading gatherers into the forest and making cuts on the trees with sharpened rocks to guide everyone back, her son was content to sit in the cave and watch as others worked. He would spend hours running his fingers over the grass baskets the women had weaved or endlessly examine the thin strips of dried flesh that joined furs together. He seldom went farther than ten steps from the cave, other than to watch others work

When the others in the cave first began to call him He Who Stares she had dragged her son to the river and placed him among the other children. His cries brought her back a short time later. With a head that was much larger than his body and legs like tiny sticks he was soon knocked to the ground and scorned by the others. “He is like a baby who never grows,” the son of Gorb declared. “He should be left in the forest when the cold comes.”

-------2-------

Gawa was almost asleep when a noise woke her and He Who Stares. Two women were struggling over a woven basket. “Give it to me, it is mine!” Juka said, shaking the basket and trying to dislodge it from her sister’s hands.

“It is mine,” Tona screamed. “I set it here when I went to the stream!”

He Who Stares left his mother’s arms and staggered toward the fighting women. He pointed to the basket. “This is the basket that Juka wove,” he said.

            “The basket’s all look the same,” Tona said. “How would a stupid boy like you know?”

            “Juka always pulls the stem to the outside before she starts a new row,” He Who Stares lifted the basket and showed the tiny stems protruding from the outside of the basket. “You always tuck your stems to the inside.”

            “I haven’t thought about that before … but you do,” Juka said taking the basket from He Who Stares.

            “Then who has taken my basket?” Tona demanded.

            “I watched you carry the basket with you when you went to drink water,” Oona, Gorb’s mate said. “You must have left it by the stream!”

Minutes later Tona returned from the stream carrying her own basket. She refused to make eye contact with anyone. Gawa smiled. Her son might have a too large head but he noticed details that no one else in the cave did.

-------3-------

It was fully dark and Gawa stood with the others at the entrance to the cave. They had built up the fire so that any wandering in the darkness might see it and find their way. It was dangerous for anyone to be away from the safety of the cave at night. When the moon rose from the horizon and began to cross the sky everyone had a feeling of doom. The gatherers had been gone too long. Many large animals hunted at night and a few crude clubs and sharpened sticks were no match for claws and razor sharp teeth.

Suddenly when the moon was almost directly overhead a cry came from Oona. The cave leader and four others stumbled out of the trees. Gawa and the other women moaned and a few fell to the ground and began to thank God. But the gatherers no longer carried the woven baskets they had been sent to fill. “What happened?” A relieved Oona asked when the group reached the safety of the fire. “Did you not use the marks?”

“We followed the marks to the clearing in the trees five sun widths from this cave.” Gorb said. “Many strangers had been to the streams gathering berries and roots also. When our baskets were filled we found that the trees were cut with marks in all directions. We are not the only ones who use the cuts in bark to find our way.” Gorb hung his head as if ashamed at what happened. “We followed the marks that we thought were ours and we came to a large camp of Zutoos. They had many clubs with cutting edges. They took our filled baskets from us and started to bind our hands to the trunks of trees.”

Gawa and the other women gasped. They had all heard stories about how the Zutoos sometimes raided camps and took prisoners. They traded the captives to other peoples for use as slaves. Those taken were force to gather every day all day long with only enough to eat to keep themselves alive. Everyone was glad the gathers had escaped but now the family would go hungry unless the gatherers could go back again tomorrow and return with filled baskets. The sudden quiet prompted Gorb to continue his story.

“Todar bit their leader’s hand and knocked him to the ground.” Everyone stared at Todar … and he smiled. “In the confusion we ran. Some of them followed but it was getting dark and they turned back. It was hard to see the marks in the dark and then we had to wait until the moon crossed the sky before we could see them at all! We found other marks in the moonlight and followed them back here!”

Oona hugged her mate. “We will return to the clearing tomorrow and once again fill our baskets,” Todar said. “We must have food!”

Gorb shook his head. “It is too dangerous. We must leave this cave and find a new place. We cannot find our way through the woods when so many people make marks.”

Gawa and the others were saddened. The cave was warm and it provided the family a good place to live. But the family must have food to live and the marks they made in the trunks of trees to find their way no longer worked. Everyone around the fire went to sleep very sad … and also hungry.

-------4-------

            It was early in the morning when Gorb directed the family members to start gathering their belongings. It would be a long day and maybe many days before they could find another place to live. He only hoped that they could find things to eat on the way.

Todar shook his head when he looked at the large stack of wood he had helped gather just inside the entrance to the cave. It had taken most of the summer to drag and stack. “Leave it,” Gorb ordered. “We will have to find more when we reach our new home.”

“Everyone is hungry, maybe we should send another group to gather at the clearing, Juka suggested.

Gorb shook his head. “We cannot tell whose marks we follow in the forest. They all look the same. If we find our way to the camp of the Zutoos we will never return.”

He Who Stares was helping his mother gather their belongings. “The marks are all different,” he said. “When someone cuts a tree with a sharpened stone he does it different than anyone else!”

Gorb scoffed. “A mark is a mark. No one can tell who made it!”

            “I can,” He Who Stares said. “Follow me to the practice tree and I will show you.”

            “He Who Stares showed us that each basket we weave is different,” Juka told him. “Maybe it is the same for the marks you leave on trees.”

-------5-------

Gawa and the others followed her son to the pace by the river where the young members of the family practiced making marks on the bark of a large tree. “These marks were made by Dua,” He Who Stares pointed to a group of white slashes in the bark.

            “How can you tell that?” Gorb demanded.

            “The marks are lower on the trees than the others and he uses his left hand. The cuts are deeper on the left and then taper off. The stone he uses has a nick on the sharp edge and it leaves a small notch in the wood.”

He Who Stares pointed to several other marks in the tree bark and then told who made them.

Todar commanded Dua to bring his cutting stone and when the boy did Todar took it from him. He looked at the stone and then at the mark in the tree. “He Who Stares is right,” he said. “The marks made in this tree are from this stone.

            “If you go with the gathers will you be able to tell which marks were made by this family?” Oona had asked the question and the entire cave held their breath waiting for his answer.

            “Yes, I can tell who made the marks,” He Who Stares said.

-------6-------

Gawa watched as He Who Stares led eight gatherers into the forest. She had never been more proud of her offspring, but she was worried. Gorb had made it known that if they followed a wrong path her son would be left in the forest. She worried about his wobbly legs. It was a long way to go and very dangerous. What if they were chased by a wild animal? Her son could barely walk there was no way he could outrun a tiger or a bear.

-------*-------

The sun crossed the sky at an agonizingly slow pace. Gawa had stared at the sun so many times her eyes felt burned. When the sun was sinking far in the west her heart began to sink with it. “It was foolish to send them off on the word of a boy,” Tona said. She pointed her finger at Gawa. “This is your fault. You should have left him in the forest when he was born!”

It was growing dark and the ground around Gawa was wet with tears when a shout went up from those staring into the darkness. Gorb led the gatherers toward the cave. Six of the men carried three large baskets filled to the top and spilling over with edible roots, fruit, seeds and berries. Two others carried a sleeping He Who Stares in a fourth basket.

“You son knows the marks,” Gorb said proudly. “He could not only tell who made the cuts in the trees but when they were made and under what circumstances. We even followed the marks of others to a new place that is closer where there are many fruit trees. He took a bite of a large red apple and then tossed it to Ooga. “But it was a long way and your son is very tired. He deserves his sleep.”

Gawa was so happy she forgot to eat. Several of the family members had begun to dance they wouldn’t be forced to leave the cave. Gorb and several others were already discussing having He Who Stares examine all the marks in the forest so they would know where the various peoples lived. “I’ve always said that your son is the offspring of a God,” Tona declared. “When he is old enough … my daughter would make him a good mate.”

-------7-------

            Gawa watched from her resting place near the fire as her entire family and many from other families gathered noisily in a circle around He Who Stares. Her eyes were dimmed by the whiteness inside them and she had to squint to see clearly to see in the back of the cave. A granddaughter brought her water and a wooden bowl and a handful of red berries. Gawa smiled, and patted the young girl’s back.

He Who Stares, now the most respected of the many families who lived next to the river, was also ancient with seasons… but still not as old as her. With shaking hands, and with help from one of several readers he was teaching, her son gently lifted one of the bark slabs from the numerous stacks by his sleeping place. The thin layers of wood cut carefully by his children from the trees he had selected were his most precious possessions. They had been arranged in a specific order. His swollen fingers traced over the marks in the bark and the light in his tired eyes slowly became brighter and he smiled. The magical cuts made in the wood of trees long ago brought back things from the past if you knew what to look for. They not only told who made the marks but they also told many things.

When the Keeper of Memories began to speak … everyone, even the leaders of other families, bowed their heads and listened. The spirit of God moved as a breeze across the entrance to the cave. Crackling embers in the fire suddenly became dry leaves being crushed by running feet. Her son’s normally loud voice was now much softer, but he spoke clearly so that everyone could hear.

“Gorb ran through the forest, followed by a large bear …he was afraid …”

THE END?