The First Jumper (first draft version)

The First Jumper 27: Demonstration

Little Bear woke early, as Willow was coming back, bleary from a stint standing watch.  He grabbed his spears, the new stick, and the pouch with the scraping stones, and ran to the edge of the wood.

The faintest light of dawn was showing.  It wasn’t enough to see very far, but it was enough.  The wood ended at the edge of a hill that sloped down to the plain, a quarter mile below.  Off to the left, the river ran, wide, lazy, and meandering, across the wide plain, disappearing into the dark.  There wasn’t enough light to show if anything was moving on the plain.

Little Bear set one spear in the ground, then laid the other on top of the strange stick.  It fitted pretty well in the groove, but not perfectly.  He spent the next few minutes scraping and adjusting, before he was satisfied at how well the spear rested on the stick.

He tried making a throw with the stick, and was dismayed, as both stick and spear flew a few feet.  He heard a snicker, and turned to see Willow covering her mouth with her hands.  

“What?” he demanded.

“You look funny,” she said, and began giggling.

He wanted to tell her to stop laughing, but instead turned and retrieved the stick and spear.  

“Do it again,” said Willow.  She was still giggling.

Trying not to growl, Little Bear fitted the spear again on the stick, and tried the throw again.  This time he concentrated on not letting go of the stick.  

This was an even more spectacular failure than his first attempt.  He kept hold of the stick, and it swung all the way forward as he had intended.  But he had held the spear a bit longer than he should have, and it had stayed on the stick as it rotated.  

The spear ended up in the ground right beside his foot.  A few more inches, and it would have been through his foot.

Willow was immediately beside him, frightened.

“It missed,” he growled.

She put her hand on his arm.  “I’m sorry I laughed,” she said.  “I think you have something good, here, but the thought of you hurt frightened me.”

Looking at her wide, frightened eyes in the dawn, he reached for her without thinking, and kissed her.  He had seen others do that, but this was the first time he had ever kissed another person.  His mother had died at his birth, and other women had nursed him, but he had not given or received a kiss since he had been old enough to walk.

The explosion of feelings from that first touch of lips was overwhelming.  He was not trying to sense things from his Tarshen side, but he could not help noticing that Willow was just as shocked by the contact as he was, and even more powerfully affected.  As he had watched moths dive into the campfire, he felt his being moving toward hers.  It might kill him, but . . .  

“There will be time for that later, I think.”

The dry voice behind them made both youths jump apart.

Little Bear shook himself and said, “I didn’t notice you, father,” as he turned.  

Not only was Raccoon there, but so were Pomegranate, a very sleepy Rat, Cave Bear, and Apple.

“I don’t think you noticed the herd of mammoth that just ran through here, either,” said Cave Bear.

Red-faced, all Little Bear could do was sputter, as the rest laughed.  Willow reached out and put a hand on his chest.

“Show them what they came to see,” she said.

“I don’t know,” said Apple.  “I kind of liked what I saw just now.”