West of Eden

peace."
    Still no response. But was there a movement in the shadows beneath the trees? He could not be sure. He stepped back a pace and called out again.
    A stirring in the darkness. An outline. Someone was standing there. Kerrick took another step backwards and the figure moved towards him, coming into the sunlight.
    Kerrick's first reaction was fear. He swayed backwards but managed to control himself before he turned and ran.
    The hunter had black hair and a dark skin, was beardless. But his hands were empty like Kerrick's. Nor was he wearing skins like the hunter in the foothills. There was something white bound about his head, white leather also about his loins. Not gray-white, but white as snow.
    West of Eden - Harry Harrison
    "We will talk," Kerrick called out, taking a slow step forward.
    At this movement the other figure turned, almost ran back into the cover of the trees. Kerrick stopped when he saw this. The other recovered and, even at this distance, Kerrick could see that the man was shivering with fear. As soon as he realized this Kerrick sat slowly down on the grass, his hands still raised peacefully.
    "I will not harm you," he called out. "Come, sit, we will talk."
    After that Kerrick did not move. When his arms grew tired he lowered them and rested them palms upwards on his thighs. He hummed to himself, looked up at the sky, then around at the empty slopes, making no sudden motions that might startle the stranger.
    The other hunter took a single hesitating step forward, then another. Kerrick smiled and nodded and did not move his hands. One single, shaking step at a time the other moved forward until he was less than ten paces away. Then he dropped to the ground, sitting cross-legged like Kerrick, looking at him with wide and terrified eyes. Now Kerrick could see that this was no youngster. His skin was wrinkled and the black of his hair was shot through with gray. Kerrick smiled, made no other motions. The man's jaw moved and Kerrick could see his throat working, but only a harsh sound came out. He swallowed and was finally able to speak. The words came in a rush.
    Kerrick could understand nothing. He smiled and nodded to give the other some assurance as the low and sibilant words continued. Then the other stopped speaking suddenly, bent forward and lowered his head.
    Kerrick was baffled. He waited until the hunter had looked up again before he spoke.
    "I cannot understand you. Do you know what I am saying? Do you want to know my name?" He touched his chest. "Kerrick. Kerrick." There was no response. The other just sat and watched, jaw hanging open, his eyes round and white against his dark skin. Only when Kerrick had stopped did he nod his head again.
    He spoke some more, then stood and walked back towards the trees. Another hunter stepped out of the shadows and handed him something. There were others moving behind him, Kerrick saw, and he gathered his legs under him, ready to stand and run. When none of them came forward he relaxed a little.
    But he kept watching the trees as the first one returned. The others stayed where they were.
    This time the hunter came closer before he sat. Kerrick saw that he was carrying a dark bowl of some kind filled with water. He raised it in both hands and drank, then leaned far forward and put it on the ground between them.
    Hunters who drink together are sharing something, Kerrick thought. It is a peaceful act. He hoped. He watched the other closely as he reached out and picked up the bowl, raised it and drank from it, returned it to the grass.
    West of Eden - Harry Harrison
    The other reached down for the bowl, picked it up and poured the remaining water onto the ground beside him. Then he tapped the bowl and said one word.
    "Waliskis."
    Then handed the bowl back to Kerrick. Kerrick was puzzled by the actions, but he nodded and smiled in an attempt at reassurance. He held the bowl close and saw that it was made of some dark brown substance that he could not identify; he looked at it more closely. Rough and brown, but decorated with a black pattern near the top edge. He turned it in his hands—and discovered that there was a larger design in black on the other side.
    It had been well done, a clear, black silhouette. It was not a random blotch or a simple, repeated pattern. It was the figure of an animal. The tusks were obvious, the trunk as well.
    It was a mastodon.
    "Waliskis," the other said. "Waliskis."
    CHAPTER TWENTY
    Kerrick turned the bowl over and over in