Flint Dog

Flint Dog

  by

  Stephanie Dagg

  Copyright 2011 Stephanie J Dagg

  Cover photo ? Pavel Kohout | Dreamstime.com

  Introduction

  Welcome to the Stone Age!

  Flint Dog is set in the Stone Age about 25,000 years ago, when people had begun to use flint for tools and weapons. The proper name for the Stone Age is the Palaeolithic Period - but Stone Age is probably easier to say!

  People had moved out of caves and now lived in villages of tent-like huts. They lived as hunter-gatherers. The men would hunt animals for meat and the women would gather nuts and berries. Because of this way of life, I decided to refer to the men in my story as Hunters. The women are called Birth-givers.

  The hero of this story is Youngest, the youngest child in his family. I wasn't sure how to name my characters because there is no record of what people actually called themselves all those years ago. Extending the practice of people taking their surname from their trade or occupation (which has given rise to many modern names such as Smith, Baker and Carpenter), I have named my characters in a similar way. So Youngest's father is called Flintworker as he makes the flint tools for the tribe and his mother is called Bread Maker because she bakes the best bread in the village. There is Pot Maker, Lamp Maker and Strong Man, the chief, to give a few more examples. Of course the children are too young to have a particular trade or skill, so they are given names that reflect some feature of them. Youngest, as we've just seen, is the youngest of his family. His older brother, who is the oldest child, is called First Son. Youngest's sister is called Hazel Eyes, because of her unusual eye colour. Youngest's friends have names like Long Legs, Red Hair and Burnt Arm. You will find out about these other characters as you read the story.

  My story is based in France. The village setting was inspired by Les Eyzies in the Dordogne, a known stronghold of Cro Magnon people. (Cro Magnon is the name given to the people who lived at the time of this story. They were very much like us.) There is a river in front of the village and large cliffs, riddled with caves, behind it. The holy cave with the paintings that appears in the story is based on the famous Pech-Merle cave in Cabrerets, Lot-en-Quercy. All the paintings I describe in the story are there - including the handprints on the walls and the footprints on the floor!

  The Stone Age people worshipped the Mother Goddess, a sort of Mother Nature figure. They believed that she was responsible for the changing seasons and the various natural events that occurred, like floods or thunderstorms or deaths. She looked after the spirit of people and animals that died. She could be kind but she could also be very cruel.

  I think that's all you need to know before you start to read Flint Dog. I hope you will enjoy the story and perhaps it will make you think about how our ancestors lived, all those many thousands of years ago.

  Chapter 1: Waiting

  It was evening. Youngest sat in the warm sunshine outside his family's home. Home was a small shelter made from branches and reeds roughly bound together with twisted fibres. A few large rocks to either side added some support. The domed roof was made from branches and reeds too, and these were covered with some animal skins. Father had built their hut for them. The whole village consisted of huts much the same as theirs.

  Youngest cast a long shadow in the evening sun. Inside the hut he could hear his mother and sister moving around. Every now and again, one of them would pop her head out and ask: "Any sign of them yet?" Youngest would shake his head. "Not yet." Then his mother or sister would disappear back inside and Youngest would gaze out over the countryside again, looking for any sign of the returning Hunters.

  He had a good view. The village was built on a ledge of land in front of cliffs that were riddled with caves. Once upon a time people had lived in the caves. That was before they learned how to build shelters from trees and skins. So now the caves were just used for storing food to keep it cool and away from animals. There were more caves, further away through an oak wood. Youngest knew that sometimes the grown-ups did magic in those caves. He'd never seen them, but he had been told about the magical paintings in the cave. They were meant to bring good luck to the village. First Son, Youngest's oldest brother, had been to see them when he became a Hunter. Youngest had asked him about what he'd seen but First Son hadn't told him much. He didn't have a lot of time for his younger brother. He preferred to hang around with the other new Hunters.

  Youngest sighed and returned to watching out for the return of his father and brother and all the other Hunters. They had left early that morning to hunt some big game - some bears or a lion or, if they were really lucky, a mammoth - to bring back. That would mean fresh meat and skins for the villagers.

  Everyone who had stayed behind had been busy during the day. Some of the women had been laboriously grinding corn with heavy stones to make bread; others had been gathering fruit and berries from the nearby woods, and a few had been scraping animal hides to use as clothing. The children had been trying to catch rabbits - Youngest had been one of them - but without success today.

  Now Youngest was bored and hungry. The Hunters were late getting back. Youngest glanced at the other huts in the village. Outside each of them sat one or two of Youngest's friends. Like Youngest, they had been told by their fathers to guard the door of the hut when the day's jobs were done until the Hunters got back. Although not old enough to be Hunters yet, they were old enough to help protect the Birth-givers.

  Youngest idly started playing with the flint axe beside him. Father had made it. Father made all the axes and spears and arrows for the people. He had a special skill which made him very important. Youngest loved watching Father at work. First of all, Father would find a large, round pebble, usually from the river bed. Then he would take a lump of the special rock called flint and strike it with the pebble. Father would start by removing any odd lumps and bumps with deft blows. He knew exactly where to hit the flint. Then he would strike off a series of flakes from around the edge of the flint. This gave it a sharp edge. Then Father would take a smaller pebble and chip away at the edge again, making it even sharper.

  It took Father a long time to make even a small arrow head. But Father's flint tools and weapons were said to be the finest for miles around. Visiting tribes would trade furs or seashells or baskets and pots for Father's handiwork. Their own chief valued Father very highly. Father promised he would teach First Son and Youngest his skill when they were old enough.

  Youngest got up and stretched. He was ten years old, short and stocky with a thick mop of dark hair. But, like all the people, despite his heavy appearance he was very light and agile on his feet. Youngest started kicking a few pebbles around for a moment then suddenly he became aware of a noise in the distance. He looked out and saw the Hunters, the excited dogs running around, yapping happily. There were Father and First Son. Youngest waved. He wanted to run out and meet them but his job was to guard the family. So that was what he must do. But it was hard! A couple of little children ran out to greet their fathers. For a moment, Youngest felt quite envious of them but then he remembered that it was an honour to guard the family for Father.

  The Hunters had had a good day. They had killed a bear and three wild goats. These were now tied by their feet onto two long branches so that they hung down. The Hunters carried the branches on their shoulders. Two hunters shared the load of the goats, but it took six to manage the bear!

  The day's kills were laid carefully in the cool of one of the caves behind the settlement. Tomorrow the Birth-givers would skin the animals and slice up the flesh to be shared amongst everyone. Youngest's mouth watered at the thought of the meals ahead. But for today, supper was already cooked, and now that the Hunters were back, they could all eat.

  It was an enjoyable evening. The vi
llagers gathered around a large fire and ate together. Father, First Son and the other Hunters were full of the day's adventures and told the rest of the people all about them. Even the very youngest children were allowed to join the feast. It was always a special occasion when the Hunters came back with food for them all.

  Away from the heat of the fire, the dogs prowled. Youngest dropped back into the shadows after a while to play with Black Spot and old White Tail, Father's two dogs. White Tail was his favourite, even though he was old and getting slow, and was sometimes bad tempered. He stroked White Tail's floppy ears as he listened to the Hunter's talk. Then some of the Hunters fetched their instruments and the evening ended with music. They played pipes made from animal bones with holes cut in, or hit mammoth tusks with pieces of wood. A few of the Birth-givers rattled strings of bones. These made a hollow, echoing sound. Youngest loved to hear the music. He sighed happily. It had been a good day.