The First Jumper (first draft version)

The First Jumper 26: Spears

That evening represented the first moments of leisure the tribe had experienced, from the time they had started South.  While Cave Bear and Raccoon considered how they might get past the other tribes on the plain, Little Bear sat by the fire with Rat and Pomegranate, discussing spears.

It did not take long for Little Bear to realize that Rat knew absolutely nothing about spears.  He was only six, and the most he had done was carry a bundle of shafts.

Pomegranate, on the other hand, had watched Bison make spears for almost two years, and she had paid attention since before she had chosen him.  Little Bear was surprised at how much she knew about the art of spear making.

He took the special scraping flints Bison had used, and began to look at how they could be used to scrape a shaft smooth.

Pomegranate did not know how Bison had decided how long to make the spears, but he made them a different length for every warrior.  They could throw each other’s spears, she explained, but they were more accurate with their own.

That bothered Little Bear.  Tarshen manufacturing was automated, but he still had learned enough about methods to realize that something was inefficient.

Little Bear decided that the tribe would probably benefit from having the spear standardized.  If every spear were the same, nearly every warrior would have to make an adjustment, but only once.  After that, they could swap spears, and every warrior could use every other warrior’s spears, with no loss in accuracy.

Holding a completed spear in his hands, Little Bear began wondering if there were other changes he should make.  The spear balanced well, and the head penetrated well.  I’d better leave that alone, he thought.

Tarshen had used something like spears in their distant past, but they would have been pathetic compared to humans in accuracy.  Little Bear had seen Tiger hit a rabbit at an amazing distance.  The Tarshen could throw a spear farther, but not nearly as well.

Little Bear frowned, and thought about that.  The Tarshen method of throwing was to use a plant stem--to humans, it would look like a small log--and balance it on one of her feet.  Using her other three legs for balance, she would fling the leg forward, and the log would go spinning through the air, for many times the length a human could throw something that large.

He looked down at the spear again, still frowning.  There was something about that image that bothered him.

Suddenly sleepy, Little Bear got up from the fire, moved to the sleeping area for Raccoon’s family, rolled up in his furs, and was almost instantly asleep.

Sometime later, he woke, and leapt to his feet.  He looked around.  He must not have been asleep for long, because none of the others had come back to lie down.  

Quickly, he picked up the spear and went over to the fire.  Sitting in the warmth, his heart thumping, he put the end of the spear on his foot, and thought about kicking it.  That was what had intrigued him before.  The Tarshen could fling the log so far, because their legs were so much longer than human arms. It was the length that made it possible.

He again looked at his foot, and saw how the end of the spear sat naturally just behind his big toe, so he could actually fling it pretty far that way.  He did not bother to try it, as he knew there was no way this could replace throwing with the hands.  

What he had seen in his sleep was a vision of holding a Tarshen leg in his human hands, and using the Tarshen leg to throw a spear instead of a log.  The proportions were all wrong for that, as the leg section was much longer than Little Bear was tall, but that did not matter.  The image he remembered was holding the leg up over his shoulder, and flinging the spear with that.