Dreams -- Fiction; Fantasy fiction; Prehistoric peoples -- Fiction
By the time we got to stone-throwing, the Fire People had massed thick
at the base of the cliff. Our first volley must have mashed some heads,
for when they swerved back from the cliff three of their number were
left upon the ground. These were struggling and floundering, and one
was trying to crawl away. But we fixed them. By this time we males were
roaring with rage, and we rained rocks upon the three men that were
down. Several of the Fire-Men returned to drag them into safety, but
our rocks drove the rescuers back.
The Fire People became enraged. Also, they became cautious. In spite of
their angry yells, they kept at a distance and sent flights of arrows
against us. This put an end to the rock-throwing. By the time half a
dozen of us had been killed and a score injured, the rest of us
retreated inside our caves. I was not out of range in my lofty cave,
but the distance was great enough to spoil effective shooting, and the
Fire People did not waste many arrows on me. Furthermore, I was
curious. I wanted to see. While the Swift One remained well inside the
cave, trembling with fear and making low wailing sounds because I would
not come in, I crouched at the entrance and watched.
The fighting had now become intermittent. It was a sort of deadlock. We
were in the caves, and the question with the Fire People was how to get
us out. They did not dare come in after us, and in general we would not
expose ourselves to their arrows. Occasionally, when one of them drew
in close to the base of the cliff, one or another of the Folk would
smash a rock down. In return, he would be transfixed by half a dozen
arrows. This ruse worked well for some time, but finally the Folk no
longer were inveigled into showing themselves. The deadlock was
complete.
Behind the Fire People I could see the little wizened old hunter
directing it all. They obeyed him, and went here and there at his
commands. Some of them went into the forest and returned with loads of
dry wood, leaves, and grass. All the Fire People drew in closer. While
most of them stood by with bows and arrows, ready to shoot any of the
Folk that exposed themselves, several of the Fire-Men heaped the dry
grass and wood at the mouths of the lower tier of caves. Out of these
heaps they conjured the monster we feared—_FIRE_. At first, wisps of
smoke arose and curled up the cliff. Then I could see the red-tongued
flames darting in and out through the wood like tiny snakes. The smoke
grew thicker and thicker, at times shrouding the whole face of the
cliff. But I was high up and it did not bother me much, though it stung
my eyes and I rubbed them with my knuckles.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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