The First Jumper (first draft version)

The First Jumper 36: The Three Year Winter

They were going to have to go south.  Fox and Leopard had both become warriors, even though both were fire makers like their father Ringtail.

What made the trip south necessary was that, in addition to the craving for sunshine which all of them had, there was only one girl in the tribe who was anywhere near marriageable age for Fox and Leopard.  Day-lily would soon come of age, and it was clear that it would not be long before the brothers would be in a fight to the death for her.

All wondered how long Cave Bear was going to last, but no one wanted to face that day.  He had led the tribe for almost ten years, and had done so very well, through harsher times than even in the old stories.  When he died, his seven wives were going to be free to choose new mates.  That would probably help the new warriors, but no one knew how long Cave Bear would survive, and there was no guarantee the women would choose Fox or Leopard if he didn’t.  It all came down to whether Cave Bear would have to move fast.  If he did, it would be the end for him.

They all considered it more magic of the rabbit god, that Cave Bear was alive at all, but they were not sure if it was good magic, or bad magic.  When they got the massive head of the mammoth bull off of him, his body had been crushed.  Both legs were broken, as was his skull, collarbone, one arm, and several ribs.

He was still breathing, but no one expected him to last more than a minute or two.

"Medicine Man!" Tiger screamed, as he went to Cave Bear's side.

Raccoon and Little Bear both went to his side, but Raccoon just shook his head.  "I can do nothing for him," he told Tiger.

"Noo!" said Tiger.

Little Bear did not want to let Cave Bear die, when he had meant so much to him and to the tribe.  He could see that Cave Bear was going to die, but it did not have to be soon.

"I can save him," said Little Bear to Tiger.  He straightened out the breaks in the chief's arm and legs, and tied sticks to them with pieces of briar.  As he did, he noticed a few very small fruits on the briar.  Curiously, he took a nibble on one, before wrapping the arm the rest of the way.  It was bitter and sour.

When he asked others to carry Cave Bear, the Chief raised his hand, and said, "Let me die."

"No!" said Little Bear.  "I can save you."

The Chief was unconscious by then, and did not reply.  They carried him back to the cave, where he lay for a full moon by the fire, tended by his wives.  At the end of that time, he could hobble around, with help.  He could eat, and he might live a long time.

But he was not happy with Little Bear.

"Look at me," he commanded him.  "I can barely walk.  I told you to let me die.  I could have died as the only man in our tribe whoever killed a mammoth bull with his own hands.  That would have been a glorious death.  Instead, I will die soon, and everyone will remember me as I am now, instead of as I was then."

Little Bear tried to talk to him more, but Cave Bear would have none of it.  "Leave me alone," he said.

Tiger was much more hostile.  "You have dishonored my father," he hissed at him.  "He asked me not to kill you, but that is the only reason you are still alive!"

Even Raccoon was not supportive.  "Better to let a man die with dignity, Little Bear.  All of us die, but few get to die in that fashion, as a hero."

It was a very dark time for Little Bear.  It should have been spring, but there was no lessening of winter.  

Whenever there was a day of even moderate sunshine, the whole tribe came out into the sun, and took off their furs for as long as they could stand it.  Little Bear felt his body responding to the sun.  When they couldn’t get some sunshine, the tribe tended to get weak and sick.