“He liked berries,” said Hamilton.
She placed, in the tiny trough, a dozen berries. They were large, juicy, red. She put in the tiny trough five tiny, pretty shells, and a toy, of stuffed leather, in the shape of a small, four-footed animal. Pod, who was the son of Short Leg, put a shiny pebble in the trough. Tree crouched nearby, but back with the others. He put a tiny bow, with tiny arrows in the trough. The Men put stones over the trough.
Hamilton stood up.
Short Leg, seeing her return, seeing her eyes, and that she knew, had leaped, eyes wild, terrified, to her feet and fled. “Turtle will kill me!” she cried to Stone. “Cricket is dead,” had said Stone. Short Leg fled to the cave where Spear sat, on a rug of fur. “Turtle will kill me!” she cried. “A child of the Men is dead,” said Spear. “Protect me!” cried Short Leg. “Are you here, Stone?” asked Spear. Prom the entrance to the shelter Stone had said, “I am here.” “With stones cut off her fingers,” said Spear. “With sticks punch out her eyes. Then take her into the forests. Leave her far from the shelters. Leave her far from the shelters at night.” “No,” cried Short Leg. She scrambled past Stone. On the ledge outside Spear’s shelter she saw Hamilton below. Hamilton began to climb toward her. “Turtle will kill me!” cried Short Leg. She picked up a rock and hurled it down toward Hamilton. Hamilton continued to climb toward her. Below, at the foot of the shelters, Short Leg saw Ugly Girl, Tooth, Cloud, the others. They were looking up, watching. “Protect me!” screamed Short Leg. “I am Short Leg!” she cried. “Protect me!”
Then Hamilton was on the ledge.
Short Leg turned to the cliff and, scrambling, hand by hand, feet scraping for holds, began to climb.
Hamilton followed her.
Some seventy or eighty feet from the stones below, clinging to the cliff, Short Leg turned her head, looked back, and, fingers scratching, sliding, lost her grip, and, screaming, plunged backward, falling, twisting, until she struck the stones.
At the foot of the cliffs Hamilton saw Pod, the infant of Short Leg. Suddenly screaming with hatred she seized the child and lifted it over her head, to dash its skull open against the cliffs, and then, sobbing, wild, Hamilton stumbled to Nurse, and thrust the child in her arms.
Hamilton rolled on the stones, striking at them, howling, shrieking at the sky in misery. She cut her body with the stones, and her tears and her blood marked the granite. In her right hand were the stains of the berries. Old Woman went alone into the forest and cut her face with rocks. With a flint knife she cut from her left hand two fingers.
Hamilton stood up. She looked down at the stones, covering the trough. All night Hamilton had sat with the child in her arms. By force Old Woman and Nurse had taken it from her arms, and placed it in the trough. Some articles, too, had been placed in the trough, some berries, some shells and a toy of stuffed leather. A child, too, had placed a pebble in the trough and one of the hunters had added a bow, a tiny one, with tiny arrows. Then the men had put stones over the trough.
Then Stone had said, “The meat must be roasted. There are skins to clean.”
The Men, followed by the women, and the children, turned away.
Hamilton, and Tree, remained behind.
“He liked berries,” Hamilton said.
Tree did not respond to her.
Hamilton took from her throat the necklace of the Men, unknotting it. She handed it to Tree. “I am going away,” she told him.
The hunter did not detain her.