West of Eden

positions they had chosen.
    When Herilak called like a bird they closed in. They met before the ledge, weapons ready, but there was nothing there. But something had been there. Kerrick pointed. "The grass has been flattened, broken in this place. Something was watching us."
    West of Eden - Harry Harrison
    "Spread out. Look for tracks," Herilak said.
    It was Munan who found the mark. "Over here, in the sand. A footprint."
    They bent close and looked. In silence, because there was no possible way of mistaking the creature that had made it.
    "Tanu," Herilak said, standing and looking to the north. "Could the dark Tanu have followed us here?"
    "That would not have been easy," Kerrick said. "And if they had done it they would have to have circled around us into the hills, to get ahead of us. This print is from different Tanu. I am sure of that."
    "Tanu behind, Tanu ahead." Herilak scowled at the thought. "Must we fight then in order to hunt?"
    "This Tanu did not fight—but only watched," Kerrick said. "Tanu does not always kill Tanu. Only with the cold winters did that begin. Where we are here, this far to the south, the winters are not as bad."
    "What do we do?" Munan asked.
    "Watch for them as well, try to talk to them," Kerrick said. "They may be afraid of us."
    "I'm afraid of them," Munan said. "Afraid of a spear in the back."
    "Then we are each afraid of the other," Kerrick said. "As long as we march together, with many spears and bows, these new Tanu may be too afraid to come close. If I go ahead on my own, taking just my spear, perhaps I will meet them."
    "It is dangerous," Herilak said.
    "All life is dangerous. There are Tanu out there, you see the print before you. If we do not try to make peaceful contact we have only one other choice. Do we want that?"
    "No," Herilak said. "There is enough death without our killing each other. We will stay at this camp today. Give me your arrows and bow. Do not go too far into the hills. If nothing has happened by midday, return then. Is that understood?"
    Kerrick nodded, passing over his weapons in silence. Then he watched and waited until the two hunters had returned the way they had come, down the hill towards the tents, before he turned his back on them and started slowly up the slope.
    There was rock and hard soil here so that whoever had made the footprint made no others—nor did he West of Eden - Harry Harrison
    leave any trail that could be followed. Kerrick climbed to the next ridge and looked back at the tents that were far below him now. This would be a good place for him to wait. It was open and no one could slip up on him without being seen. And if he had to flee his way was clear. He sat down, facing the valley, cradling his spear, watchful and aware.
    The hills were silent, bare and empty of anything that moved, other than the ants in the sand before him.
    They were struggling with a dead beetle many times their size, trying to carry it to their nest. Kerrick watched the ants—and from the corners of his eyes watched around him as well.
    Something itched the back of his neck and he brushed at it, but there was nothing there. He still felt something, not really an itch, but a sensation of some kind. Then he recognized it, remembered Munan's description of what he had felt. He was being watched.
    Slowly he stood and turned about, looking up at the grassy slope of the hill and the stand of trees beyond.
    No one was visible. There were some bushes on the hillside, but they were thin and offered no cover. If he were being watched it had to be from behind the trees. He looked at them and waited, but nothing moved. If the hidden watcher was afraid then he would have to take some initiative himself. Only when he started to put his spear down did he realize that his hand was tight-gripped about the shaft. His only protection. He did not want to discard it. Yet he must if the unseen watcher—or watchers—were to believe that he came in peace. With an effort of will, and a decisiveness that he did not feel, he hurled it aside. There was still no movement under the trees.
    Kerrick shuffled one foot forward, then the other. His throat was dry and the sound of his heart beat loudly in his ears as he walked slowly towards the trees. He stopped when he was a long spear throw from their cover, unable to force himself any closer. Enough. It was time for those in hiding to make a move. He raised his hands slowly, palms outward, and called out.
    "I have no weapons. I come in