Authors: Chad Oliver
Instantly,
he
saw
that
he
had
let
down
his
guard too
soon.
There
was
no
warning,
no
hint
of
a
suggestion
of any
sort
that
it
was
going
to
happen.
One
minute, everything
was
moving
smoothly;
the
next,
tragedy struck
with
blinding
speed.
Three
of
the
giant
mammoths
turned
aside
as
one,
and
there
was
no
stopping
them.
They
simply
walked
over
the
warrior
who confronted
them,
brushing
aside
his
spear
as
though it
had
been
a
toothpick.
The
man
was
trampled
into a
pulp
with
frightening
swiftness;
in
an
instant,
where once
a
man
had
stood,
there
was
nothing.
The
three mammoths
moved
sedately
off
on
their
own
affairs, and
nothing
could
be
done
about
it.
The
warriors
of
the
Danequa
redoubled
their
efforts to
hold
the
remaining
twelve
mammoths.
There
was really
nothing
to
prevent
the
monsters
from
going
with their
fellows
if
they
so
chose—nothing
but
bravery
and human
voices
and
a
few
pitiful
torches.
But
they
did not
go—they
shambled
with
deceptive
speed
along toward
the
trap
which
awaited
them.
Mark
did
not
relax
again.
He
shouted
with
all
his strength,
and
when
his
torch
was
exhausted
he
threw it
in
the
midst
of
the
mammoths.
Fang
barked
and snarled
as
if
he
really
thought
he
could
tear
a
mammoth
to
pieces
if
he
felt
like
it.
Tlaxcan
maneuvered with
infinite
skill
and
patience,
a
fighting
smile
on his
proud
face.
Nranquar,
whose
bravery
was
beyond question,
risked
his
life
again
and
again
to
keep
the trumpeting
quaro
in
line.
Across
the
morning-wet
plains
they
ran,
and
Mark felt
his
newly
toughened
muscles
rise
to
the
occasion and
carry
him
forward
without
a
tremor.
He
breathed easily,
and
his
hand
was
steady.
He
had
a
healthy respect
for
the
mighty
mammoths,
and
he
knew
that they
could
wipe
him
out
in
a
second,
but
he
had
also learned
a
healthy
respect
for
his
fighting
comrades, the
Danequa.
They
were
not
fools,
and
they
would not
have
attempted
the
hunt
unless
they
had
thought they
would
be
successful.
The
very
fact
that
they
were still
alive
was
eloquent
testimony
to
their
skill
in
the past.
With
the
precision
of
trained
experts,
the
Danequa warriors
drew
together
into
a
compact
group
behind the
mammoth
herd
at
exactly
the
moment
the
beasts lumbered
into
the
mouth
of
the
trap
funnel.
The
men shouted
with
renewed
energy,
and
now
the
women and
children
sprang
up
on
all
sides,
yelling
madly, beating
on
drums,
flapping
robes
in
the
air,
and
making
a
general
racket
with
all
sorts
of
noisemakers.
It all
made
a
terrific
din,
to
which
the
mammoths
themselves
contributed
by
their
trumpeting
squeals
and
the vibrating
thunder
of
their
great
feet.
For
the
first
time,
the
nervous
monsters
began
to get
really
excited.
The
noise
kept
them
mentally
off balance,
and
they
were
not
thinking
clearly.
Their
one impulse
was
to
get
away
from
the
noisy,
irritating creatures
that
seemed
to
swarm
around
them
like angry
bees.
Not
yet
in
a
panic,
but
simply
eager
to escape,
they
followed
the
path
of
least
resistance, which
is
usually
the
most
dangerous
road
you
can take,
no
matter
what
your
destination.
They
lumbered skittishly
down
the
line
of
howling
humans,
and
as the
sides
of
the
funnel
closed
in,
the
noise
increased. The
mighty
beasts
lifted
their
powerful
trunks
and trumpeted
angrily,
and
at
last
they
broke
into
a
run.