In the Beginning Read Online Free

forever. The skeletons stretched away into distant blackness.
    Dom bowed his head. He took the dagger from his belt and showed it to them, strained to lift the club high.
    â€œProtect me,” he prayed, “as I shall protect the tribe.”
    The skeletons stared sightlessly back at him. Thankfully Dom turned and climbed the slope, toward the light and the waiting tribe.
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    There was sand outside the Cave. Dom spent all day there, polishing the thighbone to brightness and honing the dagger point. As the sun was setting his father came to him.
    â€œAre the weapons good?” he asked.
    Dom stood up and silently handed him thedagger. His father studied it carefully, trying its point against his arm, the palm of his hand.
    â€œIt is good,” he said, and gave it back.
    Dom gave him the club. His father lifted it and swung it. He tossed it from his right hand to his left, and back again.
    â€œA good club also,” he said, “if you have the strength to use it.”
    Dom did not speak. His father threw the club and he caught it, but the weight pulled down his arm.
    â€œMek chose a heavy club,” his father said.
    Mek had been his father’s first son. He had been killed by the trampling hooves of a buffalo within a year of becoming a hunter.
    â€œBut you have chosen,” Dom’s father said, “and a choice once made cannot be altered.”
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    Dom remembered the tribe’s last hunt in the old land.
    The herd of antelope was very small: consisting only of a buck and five does. The old ones and the boys set off on either side, in two separate lines, moving in the direction of the herd but fanning awayat oblique angles. After fifty yards one in each line halted and the rest went on. Although the greatest risk was of being scented, they moved very stealthily, crouching low, their progress soundless except for the tiny rustle as the long grass parted for them. Two more halted, and then two more.
    On previous occasions, Dom had been one of the beaters. Now he stood with the hunters at the mouth of the funnel which the old ones and the boys were forming around the grazing antelope. He touched the dagger in his belt, silently hefted his club.
    Time passed slowly. As the lines moved out, dropping their sentinels every fifty yards, they must also go more cautiously. Once abreast of the prey, any slight gust of wind could carry a scent inward and alarm them. Often enough the tribe had seen their quarry take fright and flee away on springing legs into the trackless savanna.
    Sweat ran down Dom’s legs and his back. The muscles of his legs tightened and his fingers clenched into a fist. Behind him he could hear his father’s steady breathing: he did not look round but braced his legs so that he would not tremble. Sometimes, though not often, a young hunter showed himself acoward in this test. Then the tribe cast him out, leaving him to wander alone until starvation or the lions ended his misery. Outside the tribe there was only death.
    Suddenly from the distance came a shout, the wild cry of the chase, and the antelope lifted their heads and ran from it. As they ran the sentinels along either line took up the cry in turns, moving inward and driving the fleeing animals toward the hunters.
    Toward Dom; for while the rest kept their places he advanced as was required of him. They were the large antelope, not the small species, and although the herd was few in number they were a fearsome sight as they raced through the grass, their hooves making the ground shake beneath his feet. He shouted, giving the hunter’s cry for the first time, using his voice to force strength into his limbs, courage into his spirit. The doe . . . in the lead, a little to the right of the others . . . he chose that one. His club of bone was heavier than ever as he ran, lifting it to strike.
    Then the antelope were on him. He swung the club high, aiming