Chapter 5

We sleep in late. I feed the chickens and head inside to scramble three eggs. From the pot, I retrieve a leftover piece of steak. The dogs get a half an egg each.

I prop my bow up near the door and drag my chair outside to sit with my tea and think things over. The pups have come out and are sniffing around. The dead dog is gone. I go over to look and don't see any sign of it, so I go back to my tea as I contemplate life.

I need help. I feel my house is too small for me and another man to live comfortably. Two roosters in close quarters? That's no good. We are talking a woman here, one who will practically have to be my mate Living in close proximity will almost demand that. The 'other people' are five miles away, the Cro-Magnons twelve.

I can easily visit the other people and be back in two days, which is as long as I will feel comfortable being away from the chickens and dogs. I can't take the dogs because I have no ideas what I will come across. Twelve miles across country seems like quite a distance. Leaving the dogs inside for three days will create a training problem as I am still housebreaking them.

I'm not sure I am ready to live with a Neanderthal wife. Settling for second best because they are closer doesn't make sense. Besides, will they trade a woman to a different race?

What is known about them is that they died out partly from an inability to change and partly because Cro-Magnon man encroached on their territory. Like many critters, they ran out of habitat. The end of the last ice age was the very end of their existence. Neanderthals were around for almost 200,000 years, using the same tools in that whole time. They never developed any real art or adornment. When things changed, they simply died out.

Nope, the Cro-Magnons look like my best bet. Twelve miles be damned. I'd better take a look at what's ahead of me here.

I make another cup of tea and bring it outside. I think the word "computer" and when the display pops up, I go high to take a look around. I wonder where the Cro-Magnons are and my visual shifts quickly to their camp. This is better than TV! I can watch them and see what is going on.

OK, there are the women out gathering food, it looks like. Huh! The men seem to be sitting around doing nothing. I watch for a while and zoom in to see them better. They are all wearing some sort of long leather shirt or tunic that stops above the knees. They all have furs wrapped around their feet. I see no little children. I continue to watch for over an hour while petting the dogs absentmindedly. They don't mind. Like modern dogs they love being handled.

Can I take the dogs? Should I take the dogs? If I leave them locked in the house for a few days, the place will smell like shit, literally. They will eat three days' worth of food during the first day, pass out from food lethargy, and end up getting sick. They are barely trained, but I conclude that I really must take the dogs with me.

I start readying a pack. I bag up some dry food, including several food packets and a bag of jerky, and then start thinking about trade goods. I have plenty of knives; I can trade some of them. If I remember world history correctly, salt and spices are very important. I take a couple containers of Morton Salt and two jars of pepper.

After brunch, I work on training Jake and Misty. I get a nylon rope out, tie it to their collars, and walk around with them. When I say a strong "Stay!" I pull back on the ropes so they have to stop. They get to the point that they will freeze when I tell them to stay. After a minute they get bored and sit down. I also manage to teach them the "sit!" command. This seems to take all afternoon.

After supper, as I sit outside sipping on my tea, I call up an aerial view of the Cro-Magnon camp again. Fires are being tended and food prepared there. The men are not doing anything much; they are such slackers! I pull back and view back towards where I am. I pick several landmarks to use as navigation aids tomorrow. I have to try to get there in one day if I can. Sticking to the lowlands will be faster than a lot of climbing.

We settle down for the night, and my mind just will not shut down. I keep thinking about the trip. I am excited because I will be seeing people and talking to them for the first time in many weeks.

I am not keeping track of the days, but I figure I have been here about a month and a half. It might be mid-June now, maybe? I am not even sure if a year in this place has 365 days. What do I know? I'm the new guy on this planet. I eventually drift off to sleep.

We are up early the next morning. Eggs, fried beef jerky, and tea make up my breakfast. I feed the dogs some jerky, then feed and water the chickens. I put them back in their coop and move the feeder and waterers inside to the dirt floor. There is some light coming in, so they will be fine. I don't want to leave them outside because of hawks. I am not sure a dog, fox, or other varmint couldn't figure out how to come down the hill and jump from the roof into the pen.

My bow is strung, but I don't prep an arrow. The bow quiver allows me to quickly nock an arrow as needed. I strap on an extra quiver with about ten more arrows, just in case. I fasten a water bottle to my belt, and stuff the rope into my pack. I feel like a soldier with all this stuff.

After a quick look from the air, we set off on our journey. We walk and we walk and we walk. I stay down in the valleys as much as possible so we can make good time.

The valleys are the easiest way, but this increases the distance. Staying in the valleys requires following them a ways before going into another one. Once in a while I must go up and over a hill, anyway. The hills have brush and trees, which makes walking up and down them more difficult and time-consuming.

We stop in the middle of the day. Jerky and water are enjoyed by all. I make a point of staying put for a while after eating so we can all rest up. We continue on our long trek.

In late afternoon we come around a bushy area and see a large bird of some type, maybe a stork, wading in a stream looking for fish. Since we are quite a distance away from him, he only casts a wary eye at us. I put an arrow through him quite easily. I go over and pull him from the water after he stops moving. He is mostly white and has a black stripe on each wing. He weighs a good 15 pounds or more. This will make a nice gift for my new friends, er, friends-to-be. We continue on our way after I quickly gut the bird.

We come to the camp and are spotted as soon as we come into sight. We stop and wait. This is always the tricky part. Three men trot out to see me. They have spears. From what I have already observed, I can't imagine any of them as the 'he-man' type.

"What you want?" the heavy-set guy in the middle asks. Amazingly, I realize that I can understand every word he is saying. The language part of the implant is working, maybe too well. I feel like I am much more fluent in their language than they are. Hmmm.

"I have come to trade," I reply. I am startled that I am speaking in their language.

"We not have many things trade; we talk." Wow! They really do have a limited vocabulary. I feel like I'm talking to a three-year-old child, yet he seems to understand me quite well.

"I have brought a gift for supper." I hold out the bird to him, and he accepts it.

"Dogs good food?" he asks, pointing to Jake and Misty. He gestures excitedly, and I understand that he thinks I brought them to give as another food gift.

"No, they are my friends." I tug on the rope to pull them closer to me.

"Dogs come when cold time. Dogs good food when cold time." Uh-oh; they actually like to eat dogs.

"I need these two," I explain. "They are my helpers. I will not trade my dogs. If they have young, I might give you some next year."

"Good. I remember when cold come. We talk." he says.

We settle down on the ground. The dogs lie near me and settle in for an almost nap. It has been a long day for them, and they seem wary of my new friends. The three men are squatting, and since I am an American, I just sit down on the ground. I never got the hang of the squatting thing that is so popular in the Far East and Africa.

The big guy hands the bird to a woman. She grunts in apparent acceptance, and goes about preparing food.

"What you trade?" he asks, coming quickly to the point.

"I have strong knives that do not break. I have some salt and pepper; they both make meat taste most excellent. The pepper can hide the bad taste of old meat, and is much celebrated in other lands," I explain.

"What you want we give trade? We not have many things trade. Not have food not for trade."

"We can find something to trade." To redirect the conversation I ask, "Do you have a name? I am called Steve."

"I Ungur, chief Unguri people," he says proudly, pounding his own chest. He doesn't introduce his two cohorts. Has this not occurred to him, or does he not regard them well, or what?

"Ungur, I live alone. I want to trade for a woman. Do you have any unmated women? I need someone to help me keep my fires and to keep me warm at night."

"We have women have no mate, also have young men have no mate. Woman have no mate make big trade. What me tell young men no mate to warm furs? Big problem. Men get mate when have much trade. Men young not best hunters," Ungur says.

I think this guy might be a wily negotiator. Much of the world outside the US works on a barter system. It can often take over an hour to buy something because of the banter that goes on back and forth. Luckily I have been overseas and know a few things, too.

"I am not asking for your mate. I only want a small insignificant woman you don't need here any more. Who will feed this extra woman this winter? Better she be happy with me than wait for a mate who will not ever be able to buy her. I will see she is well cared for."

"You trade much. You no trade good. I have woman. I keep young women. Young men not like trade young women you."

"A good leader knows that he often needs to trade for women in other camps, and this makes your group stronger because of new blood. I trade with you for something you want, and you trade with another camp for something they want. We both win. Do you think I fell from the sky just yesterday?" If only he knew!

"Steve bad words, not good me. You trade much woman you bad me." Ungur smiles.

"Now we get down to serious bargaining. Do you have an older woman who lost her mate? The young men won't want an older woman, but a woman with experience would be of great help to me," I explain.

"Woman Sarbun not have mate. Sarbun help my mate. My mate Jairmo need Sarbun help. Sarbun mate many seasons, no child. Sarbun mate sick when cold last season no live. No man want woman make no child."