West of Eden

strange-one, then we will go on."
    He threw the deer down and buried his face in the stream, came up gasping.
    "My name is Kerrick, son of Amahast," Kerrick said. "Do you find that too hard to remember?"
    "Peace, Kerrick. My throat is still sore from our last encounter. I meant no insult, but you do look strange.
    You have just stubble instead of a beard or hair."
    West of Eden - Harry Harrison
    "It will grow in time." Kerrick rubbed at the bristles on his face.
    "Yes, I imagine so. It just looks strange now. But that ring on your neck. Why do you wear it? Why not cut it off?"
    "Here, you do it." Kerrick handed over the ring he was carrying and smiled as Ortnar sawed uselessly at the transparent lead with the edge of his spear point.
    "It is smooth and soft—yet I cannot cut it."
    "The Yilanè can do many things that we cannot. If I told you how it was made you would not believe me."
    "You know their secrets? Of course, you must. Tell me of the death-sticks. We captured one but could do nothing with it. Finally it began to smell and we cut it open and it was a dead animal of some kind."
    "It is a creature called a hèsotsan. They are a special kind of animals. They can move around like other animals when they are young. But when they grow old they become as you saw. They must be fed. Then darts are placed within them and when they are pressed in the correct manner the darts are fired out."
    Ortnar's mouth hung open as he fought to understand. "But how can that be? Where are there animals like that?"
    "Nowhere. That is the murgu secret. I have seen what they do, but I do not understand it myself. They can make animals do strange things. They know how to make them breed to do anything. It is hard to explain."
    "Even harder to understand. It is time to go. Now it is your turn to carry the deer."
    "Herilak ordered you to carry it."
    "Yes—but you are going to help eat it."
    Ortnar smiled as he said this and in spite of himself Kerrick smiled back. "All right, give it to me. But you'll get it back soon enough. Didn't Herilak say we would have a fire?" His mouth was suddenly wet with spittle at the memory. "Cooked meat—I had forgotten what it was like."
    "Then the murgu eat all their meat raw?" Ortnar asked as they started up the track again.
    "No. Well, yes and no. It is softened in some way. You get used to it."
    West of Eden - Harry Harrison
    "Why don't they roast it properly?"
    "Because…" Kerrick stopped in his tracks at the thought. "Because they don't make fires. I never realized that before. I guess they don't need fires because where they live it is always warm. Sometimes at night when it is cool, or on wet days, we wrap—there is no word for it—warm things around us."
    "Skins? Fur robes?"
    "No. Living creatures that are warm."
    "Sounds disgusting. The more I hear about your murgu the more I detest them. I don't know how you could bear living with creatures like that."
    "I had little choice," Kerrick said grimly, then walked on in silence.
    Herilak joined them soon after they had reached their stopping place for the night.
    "The trail behind is empty. They have turned back."
    "Cooked meat!" Ortnar said, smacking his lips together. "But I wish we had brought the fire with us."
    These words touched a memory that Kerrick had long forgotten. "I used to do that," he said. "Keep the fire in the bow of the boat."
    "That is a boy's work," Herilak said. "As a hunter you must make your own fire. Do you know how to do it?"
    Kerrick hesitated. "I remember seeing it done. But I have forgotten. It was so long ago."
    "Then watch. You are Tanu now and must know these things if you are to be a hunter."
    It was a slow process. Herilak broke a branch from a long-dead and dried tree, then carefully cut and rounded a length of stick from it. While he did this, Ortnar searched deeper in the forest and returned with a handful of dry and moldy wood. He shredded and pounded this into a fine powder. When Herilak had finished the stick to his satisfaction he scraped another length of the wood flat, then drilled a shallow hole in it with his spearpoint.
    When the preparations were done Herilak took Ortnar's bow and wrapped the bowstring about the carefully fashioned stick. He sat on the ground, held the length of wood steady with his feet, then placed the pointed tip of the stick into the hole in the wood and began to draw the bow back and forth to make it spin. Ortnar pushed some of the powdered wood into the hole while Herilak spun