The Ice Sheet
Moreover, everyone seemed to have their place: some were designated as hunters, others as fisher-people, and still others, such as the women would clean up the campsites, caves they’d live in and so forth and so on; and there was those who carried wood and looked for wood; and still others who made the fire and of course the protector, Big-chest–who along with being the leader and giving orders did an assortment of things, in reality, a little bit of everything. They even had some sacred signs, a starting of a language and spoken words that they all understood; all signs of a civilization in the makings, a culture if you will in the process: a background for a new nation one might add
–in addition, Big-chest often went against the current of the group, but on the other hand, won their respect. In essence what Big-chest was doing, was new to him–that being, dealing with emotions, and thinking along with being a responsible leader, and not knowing the difference before–in any of these categories, and having just learned it recently: the difference between thinking and feeling, or thinking vs. emotions, he now was squeezing refractory-emotions into what one might call–longer and slightly wider, channels: so you see, he was now feeling them, and slightly reacting to them. And so during his leadership–should we say–the learning process, he was equated to being, or having a double-edge to his personality (which in itself was healthier than being only one edged, and having it be all of terror): but what I was about to say is: being double-edged made him a strict leader, as he was a disciplined survivor and hunter of men, by nature: thus, it served the purpose of the group at this vital time. Had he been the way he was in the Valley of the Caves, no one would have survived; in a like manner, had he turned out to be, too soft for this journey, no one would have survived either. And so it was, in all respects, and I repeat myself: his temperament was rooted in the right soil at the right time, for the right people, on such a long, very long journey.
[Eskimos] Little Bird-turtle was 4’11,” with dark black hair and dark brown eye, similar to her sister, who was also a bit taller and prettier; and the men were of a short size also, as I previously mentioned; all officially part of the Eskimo group. It also should be noted: it was not uncommon to have most of the tribe’s children being: half-brothers and half-sisters–and if a women chose not to be bear children, she was either cursed, or begged to bear them, or considered as Little-bird was: of a sacred mission.
As they drifted slowly across the Atlantic, every so often one could hear the tail, the underwater tail of the ice-sheet rubbing against other objects; the ice-sheet was hitting land–scratching and scraping it sounded like: horrible, frightening, akin to twisting the ice-sheet about at times; where it was thicker it made more noise as if pieces of the extending ice under the water was being broken off–and the ice-sheet was getting thinner. (It would seem the closer they got to the west, to the pole in the Hudson Bay, the warmer it got.) Soon the square mile of the ice-sheet, was half its size, and the seals and walrus’s that migrated onto the ice-sheet as it drifted, had now gone, for they could be seen with the blink of an eye–and evidently that was too hazardous for them, especially with Toma and Tundra around with their harpoon like spears. And if they did come upon the ice [the walrus’ that is] it was for only a moment and then dived back into the cool waters–escaping the deadly arms of the Eskimos. And so during this time, hunting for food got slim at best.
One of the things during this time was Toma’s wildness in the catching of turtles; he must have captured a dozen in a week, and brought them to the three igloos and shared them with all on the floating ice-sheet. This substituted for some of the loss of protean and nourishment they were receiving from previous hunting activities.
Toma cutting up a Turtle
Big-chest and the White Polar Bear
It was going on their 24th month since they left the Valley of the Caves, and now Big-chest’s little girl was running around [End of winter], and one could see land way off in the distance; possibly this was the land that kept hitting the ice sheet (a gradation to its surface), so thought many in the Assemblage [now the group being called the Assemblage, a name of their own, one all could pronounce], but whatever it was: for the most part, it seemed to be somewhat of a land bridge to the north of this huge iceberg they were on, and a great white bear found himself on it also. As Single-tooth squeaked his danger sounds, all were alerted, especially, Big-chest.
The group stood by the igloos, the king, King Big-chest stood in front of them, and the bear crawled closer and closer to the igloos.
“No, you can’t fight him; I will kill him with my spear…” But Big-chest couldn’t, or didn’t want to understand the full of it, and even though he looked at Tundra’s long and piercing spear, he shook his head, not believing it would do the trick. The bear was too big for him, Tundra thought. When the bear got within a few feet of Big-chest, he stood up, and he must had been all of thirteen-feet high, Bigger than Big-chest, whom was over eight feet, possibly eight and a half, but far from thirteen-feet: and in his old age, he had lost at least a foot off his back arch.
Big-chest started beating his chest, and the bear started growling, both now walking in a circle, as Tundra and Jaguar-eyes both got their weapons ready; Jaguar-eyes had a flanked-stone long knife, Toma a bow and arrow, Tundra a spear, long with a Clovis fluted point; Stern-toes a club, and the women had long tusks from the walrus. Then Tundra told the group to circle the bear, as no one could tell Big-chest what to do, he figured it better he take command on the perimeter, while Big-chest does what he wants to do in the inner circle. Next the bear took a sweep with his hand, his giant paw: at Big-chest–and Big-chest stopped it. All were surprised, even the bear, as the bear stopped a moment to refigure out his plan; thus, he tired it again, but Big-chest again stopped his paw from slapping him yet he got scratched from his long claws: which were in, in itself painful. The bear threw out his paw again, and with Big-chest’s large mouth, he bit the bear’s paw, it was similar to a knife cutting through ice, you could hear the bones crack–Big-chest’s jaws were akin to a bulldogs. After that, the bear became frustrated, stood up to show his height, and fell right on top of Big-chest, but as he was falling Big-chest grabbed him by the sides of his belly, holding him up and off a tinge, and threw him to the side, but the bear was too powerful, he just got back up–a little shaken, but not hurt, and Big-chest was getting tired, he was not the unbeatable young buck he was decades earlier (as he may have thought he was).
Toma shot two arrows into the bear, but it didn’t stop him, and Tundra took the spear and shoved it into his spine, and Stern-toes clubbed him over the head several times, then Big-chest beat his chest for everyone to stop, and he jumped on the bear beating him and beating him with his powerful hands: all could hear the ribs of the bear crack, his spine now was disengaged, and his neck broken. Aw yes, likened to a bull, the bear was weakened, and Big-chest did the rest, but it was Big-chest nonetheless who legend would record, stood up single-handedly against the bear.
Tundra the Hunter of the Arctic
As Big-chest got up, he found he had a hard time balancing his body–in addition, he lost all logic of direction for a moment, and even his thoughts were stagnate. He had never been tired like this before and was a bit dizzy, along with being a tinge embarrassed because he needed help. But all in the group jumped up and down with joy, calling him: “Big-chest, the king, and the mighty one,” he of course enjoyed the celebration and adulation, but he knew after this day, he knew he was not as mightily as the skilled hunter, and he needed them, as he hoped they remain needing him.
That evening the whole group got together and held hands dancing around one of the igloos. It wasn’t resembling the dance the People of the Fire used to dance, thought Jaguar-eyes, where his father would try to excite everyone in the tribe, get their blood hot, and then kill a few boys or women for a sacrifice, eat them, and then dance all night until they got exhausted, as they chewed on local-weed which grew nearby.
This was started by Little Bird-turtle, along with some humming which was added to the dance, and holding of hands, which seemed to calm all down, even old Big-chest; for still he was trembling inside, yes again he knew these were signs of old age, that the new people around him, the young ones, it was their time, and he was on his way out. His eyes slightly down a bit, kind of ashamed he needed help, but it was something he’d now have to get adjusted too, to get used too: it was reality. He was in a different world now, and a new time period for the world at large, an epoch had started, and he was part of making this new and different world-epoch, this era what it would be 10,000-years beyond his life time, and he knew: that is, kind of knew, how his leadership was, it would have to be a sample of how it would be for all after he was gone, and he did for some reason want to leave a legacy, or at best, a new group of people with hope for their future, something taken away from him by the Stone-Builders: for spite if anything, the Stone-People for killing off the whole world that did not see eye-to-eye with them–this new mixed group would be a new breed that someday would have to confront possibly, them again. And he was not king for nothing, he told himself, he was king because it was fate, it was meant to be, and he was the best one for it (he did have a rich ego you know).
Along with watching the stars in the sky, and the beautiful colors of the Northern Lights, they, this group learned now how to hum and dance, and laugh, it was breathtaking when one added this to the beautiful night, as if a ray came right out of heaven with its rainbow of mystic colors to sweep over this one and only drifting ice sheet in the Atlantic–this night was a night to remember, a night of celebration. Pekingg-girl stood silently looking at Big-chest daydreaming as the twilight darkened:
Pekingg-girl in her own way loved Big-chest, for deep in her loin’s stirred desire–her breath stopped the first time they had made love: she felt sensations in her stomach as well, when he touched her. She lay naked–with her youthful wishes; Big-chest saw this and sniffed the air often, gazing at her, drawing close to her, she’d touch his thigh, not knowing how at first, but somehow learning quickly: instinctive if you will. With her touch and kisses were important, she held him captive and he held nothing back.
Now she turned her mind to the present, his body got exhausted quickly, his life force was spent for the most part, his knees trembled at times, and his arms limp, yes old age was his disarmament–and quickly did it come, she thought. And in the process of all, he was becoming fully human it seemed.
As brave as he was, Big-chest was, he told Pekingg-girl in confidence, “Why should we fear, we are mortal now, like the Stone-People by the Valley of the Caves; and our time is like a flicker of light in the bonfire, then we are gone, dead.” Big-chest had now seen a few life times compared to his race–his breed, and many a creature and man died, it was part of the cycle, nothing to fear, only face and go through, and now what he was saying or thinking, was go through and out of perhaps; this never bothered him before, but now it was a reality, not an issue, but a known-observable and thinkable fact (if not most of life being of foolishness and vanity).
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