West of Eden

Har-Havola, call your hunter, the one named Munan. Let him speak to us about the mountains."
    Munan was a tall hunter with long scars scratched onto his cheeks in the manner of his sammad and the other sammads from beyond the mountains. He puffed on the pipe when it was passed to him and listened to their questions.
    "There were three of us," he said. "All very young. It was a thing you do when you are young to prove that you will be a good hunter. You must do something very strong." He touched the scars on his cheekbones. "Only when you have been very brave or very strong can you get these to show that you are a hunter."
    Har-Havola nodded agreement, his own scars white in the firelight.
    "Three went, two returned. We left at the beginning of summer and climbed the high passes. There was an old hunter in my sammad who knew about the passes, knew the ones to take, and he told us and we found the way. He told us what sign to watch for, which passes to climb. It was not easy and the snow was deep in the highest passes, but in the end we were through. We walked always towards the sunset.
    West of Eden - Harry Harrison
    Once beyond the mountains there are hills and here the hunting was good. But beyond the hills the desert begins. We went out into it but there was no water. We drank what we had carried in water bags and when this was gone we turned back."
    "But there was hunting?" Herilak asked. Munan nodded.
    "Yes, there is rain on the mountains, then snow in the winter. The hills close to the mountains stay green.
    Once beyond them the desert begins."
    "Could you find the high passes again?" Kerrick asked. Munan nodded. "Then we could send a small party out. They could find the path, find the hills beyond. Once they had done this they could return to guide the sammads there, if all is as you say."
    "The summers are too short now," Herilak said, "and the murgu too close. If one goes—we all go. That is what I think should be done."
    They talked about it that night, the next and the next again. No one really wanted to climb the ice mountains in summer; winter would come quickly enough without going to it voluntarily. But they all knew that something had to be done. There was a little hunting here so they had some fresh meat. There were also roots to be dug, plants and seeds to be found, but these would not last the winter. Their tents were gone and many other things that they had prized. The one thing they still had was the meat they had taken from the murgu, unchanged in the bladders. No one liked the taste of it very much and as long as there was something else to eat it had not been touched. But—it could sustain life. Most of it remained.
    Herilak watched and waited patiently while they hunted and ate all that they desired. The women were curing the few deerskins they had and there would be tents again when they had collected enough. The mastodons grazed well and their wrinkled hides soon filled out again. Herilak saw this and waited.
    Waited until they had fed well and the children were strong. He looked at the sky each night and watched the dark moon wax bright, then wane again. When it was dark once again he filled the stone pipe with pungent bark and called the hunters together around the fire.
    When they had all smoked he rose to his feet before them and told them the thoughts that had been in his head all of the time since they had returned here to the bend in the river.
    "Winter will come as it always does. We must not stay here to meet it. We must go where there is good hunting and no murgu. I say that we cross the high mountains to the green hills beyond. If we go now it will still be summer and we will be able to get through the high passes. Munan has told us that is the only time we can cross. If we go now we will travel light as we did when we escaped the murgu. If we go now we will not have to worry for food for we can eat the murgu meat. If we go now we can be in the green hills beyond the mountains before winter. I say that now is the time when we must pack the travois and start towards the west."
    West of Eden - Harry Harrison
    No one wanted to leave; no one could find reason to stay. Between the ice and the murgu they had no choice. They talked about it far into the night, but search as they might they could find no other course open to them. It must be the mountains.
    In the morning the travois were assembled and old traces repaired with new leather. Small boys searched the woods for the compact