Silverhair

'They should be frightened!'

Hastily Silverhair shoved her trunk into Lop-ear’s pink, warm mouth to silence him. 'Come on,' she said. Pulling him with her trunk, nudging him with her flank, she led him away from a glaring Eggtusk.

She felt a deep chill. Lop-ear, with his fast, unusual mind, could sometimes be distracted, a little strange. But she had never seen him so agitated.

…And what, she thought with a deep shiver, if he is right? He’s been right about so many things in the past. What if we really are just walking to our deaths?

Still, Lop-ear called. But the wind snatched away his words, and nobody listened.

7 The Barrier

With Foxeye and a reluctant Snagtooth, Silverhair shepherded a trembling, unsteady Sunfire along the bank of the runoff stream.

Although the depth and ferocity of the central channel gradually reduced, the stream spread further over the surrounding ground, and sheets of water ran over the rock. The cloudy water made the rock slick enough to cause even the tough sole of a mammoth’s foot to slip, and several times poor Sunfire had to be rescued from stumbles.

Meanwhile the storm mounted in ferocity, with gigantic clatters from the sky and startling bolts of lightning and a wind that swirled unpredictably, slamming heavy wet snowflakes into her face.

And all the time she could sense the fire as it spread through the dry old grass toward them.

Lop-ear was helping Owlheart and Eggtusk with Wolfnose’s cautious progress. But he was still calling to the sky, complaining and prophesying doom. At the moment, the Matriarch and the old Bull were too busy to deal with him, but Silverhair knew he would pay for his ill-discipline later.

They came to a young spruce lying across the rocky ground near the stream. It neatly blocked the mammoths’ path.

The little group broke up again. Foxeye, panting and near exhaustion, tucked her infant under her belly-hair curtain. Snagtooth, yowling complaints about her tusk, turned away from the others and scrabbled in the cold mud of the stream bank to cover her wound once more.

Silverhair stepped forward. She saw that the tree’s roots had sunk themselves into shallow soil that was now overrun by the runoff stream; when the soil had washed away, the tree had fallen. The tree itself would not be difficult to cross. They could all climb over, probably, or with a little effort they could even push the tree out of the way.

But the tree was only an outlier of the spruce forest. Other trees grew here, small and stunted and sparsely separated — and some of them, too, had been felled by the runoff. She could see that a little farther south the trees grew more densely, and she could smell the thick, damp mulch of the forest floor.

Eggtusk, with Owlheart, came up to her. Eggtusk saw the fallen tree. 'By Kilukpuk’s gravel-stuffed navel. That’s all we need.'

'We’ll have to climb over it,' said Owlheart.

'Yes. If we get Wolfnose over first—'

But suddenly Lop-ear was here, standing head to head with Eggtusk. He was bedraggled, muttering, excited, eyes wide and full of reflected lightning. 'No. Don’t you see? This is the answer. If we push this fallen tree over there — and then go farther toward the forest to find more—'

In the flickering light of the storm, the old Bull stood as solid as if he had grown out of the rock. Owlheart and Wolfnose, the two Matriarchs, stood by and watched, their icy disapproval of Lop- ear’s antics obvious.

Eggtusk said, 'You’re risking all our lives by wasting time like this.'

Silverhair hurried forward. 'What are you trying to say, Lop-ear?'

'I can’t tell you!' he cried. 'I just know, if we push the trees together, and—'

'He’s going rogue,' said Owlheart. The Matriarch lumbered forward and glowered down at the prancing Lop-ear. 'I always knew this calf would be trouble. All his talk of changing things. He’s more like one of the Lost than a mammoth.'

'Listen to me!' Lop-ear was trumpeting now. He ran to Owlheart, who was turning away, and grabbed at her trunk. 'Listen to me—'

Eggtusk inserted his massive bulk between them. 'You don’t touch the Matriarch like that.'

'But you must listen.'

'Perhaps you’ll listen to this,' roared Eggtusk, and he tusked the ground.

It was a challenge.

Eggtusk and Lop-ear faced each other, trunks lowered, ears flaring, gazes locked.

Lop-ear was trembling, and Eggtusk seemed to tower over him, his great incurving tusks poised over his head.

Bull mammoths have their own society, a society of bachelor herds independent of the Families of Cows and calves controlled by the Matriarchs. It is a warrior society, based on continual tests of strength and dominance. Normally, unless enraged by musth, a young Bull like Lop-ear would never challenge a giant tusker like Eggtusk — or if challenged, he would quickly back down.

Now Silverhair waited for Lop-ear to stretch his trunk at Eggtusk to show his deference.

But Lop-ear made no such sign.

Silverhair rushed forward. 'Eggtusk, please. He didn’t mean—'

But Owlheart was in her way, solid as a boulder. 'Stay back, child. This is a matter for the Bulls.'

Lop-ear raised his tusks and made the first blow, dashing his tusks against Eggtusk’s. There was a knock of ivory on ivory, as if one great tree was being smashed into another.

The older Bull did not so much as flinch.

Lop-ear raised his head and again stabbed at Eggtusk’s face. This time Eggtusk dipped sideways, so that Lop-ear’s thrust missed. Eggtusk brought his massive head down and slammed his forehead against Lop-ear’s temple.

Lop-ear cried out, and stumbled back.

Eggtusk trumpeted and lumbered forward. Lop-ear turned to face him, both mammoths trying to stay head-on; if either was turned, his opponent could easily knock him down or even stab him.

Still the rain howled around them, still the lightning split the sky, and still the gathering light and smoke-stink of the fire filled Silverhair’s head. She was peripherally aware of the other mammoths: Foxeye’s weary disbelief, Snagtooth’s disdain, Croptail’s childish excitement.

'I don’t want to fight you,' said Lop-ear. He was panting hard, and blood was seeping from a wound in his temple. 'But if that’s what I have to do to make you listen—'

Wordlessly Eggtusk trumpeted once more and raised his massive tusks. The sleetish rain swirled around them, and water dripped from their cruel tips.

Lop-ear lunged. Once again Eggtusk sidestepped, and he brought his tusks crashing down on Lop-ear’s domed head with a splintering crash.

Silverhair, horrified, trumpeted in alarm.

The younger Bull bellowed, and fell to his knees.

Eggtusk turned again, and his tusks slashed at Lop-ear’s foreleg, cutting through fur and flesh and drawing thick blood.

For a heartbeat, two, Lop-ear did not move. His face was wreathed in steam, and his great form shuddered.

But then, once again, he clambered stiffly to his feet and turned to face Eggtusk again.

Fights between unmatched Bulls are resolved quickly, Silverhair knew. Usually it would be enough for Eggtusk to raise his great tusks for a junior like Lop-ear to back away.

Usually. But this was not a normal fight.

Silverhair tugged at Owlheart’s trunk. 'Matriarch, you have to stop this.'

Owlheart quoted the Cycle: 'To fight is the way of the Bull…'

'This isn’t about dominance,' Silverhair said. 'Don’t you see?'

But once again Lop-ear was facing Eggtusk. The space between their staring eyes was filled with tangled hair and steaming breath.

With blood smeared over the dome of his head, Lop-ear charged again.

The Bulls met once more in a splintering crunch of ivory. Silverhair saw that their curving tusks were locked together. This was a risky tactic for both the combatants, for the curving tusks could become locked inextricably, taking both mammoths to their deaths.

The Bulls wrestled. Lop-ear bellowed, resisting Eggtusk.

But the older Bull was much stronger. With a smooth, steady, irresistible effort, Eggtusk twisted his head to one side. Lop-ear pawed at the ground, but it was slick and muddy, and the pads of his feet slipped.

It was over in heartbeats.

His tusks still locked to Eggtusk’s, Lop-ear crashed to the ground.

Eggtusk stood over the helpless younger Bull, his eyes hard. Silverhair saw that he might twist farther, surely snapping Lop-ear’s neck — or he might withdraw his tusks and stab down sharply, driving his ivory into Lop-ear’s helpless body.

The storm cracked over their heads, and for an instant the lightning picked out the silhouette of Eggtusk’s giant deformed tusk.

Eggtusk braced himself for the final thrust.

'No.'

The commanding rumble made Eggtusk hesitate.

The voice had been Wolfnose’s. The old Cow, once the Matriarch, was coming forward. The rain dripped unheeded from her tangled hair, and only a smear of tears around her deep old eyes betrayed the pain of her legs.

Eggtusk said, 'Wolfnose—?'

'Let him up, Eggtusk.'

In the silence that followed, Silverhair could see that they were all waiting for the Matriarch’s response. It was wrong for a Cow to interfere in the affairs of Bulls. And it was wrong for any Cow — even a former Matriarch like Wolfnose — to usurp the authority of the Matriarch herself.

But Owlheart was keeping her counsel.

Eggtusk growled. Then he lowered his head, dropped his trunk, and allowed Lop-ear to clamber to his feet.