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sermocinareMadness? This is MY NOVEL! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
*collapses into happy heap of squee*
And I gots a shiny to prove it!
...oh, you want to read the end? Sure, here we go:
“Looks like she is going to be on your thoughts for a while longer, then.” The dean nodded. “Oh, and by the way, congratulations on getting that funding. If you’ll excuse me now, I’ve got some contacts that need to be kept up with, so that we can maybe bring in a bit more for the whole history department.”
Dr. Loveless nodded, a knowing smile on her lips: “Good luck with that.” Depositing her empty wine glass on the table that served as a bar, she decided to polish a few doorknobs herself. It was just too bad that her parents, and most of all Chris, could not be here tonight. She would have loved to have them share this moment with her. Well, there was not much to be done about the horrendous ticket prices for transatlantic flights, so they would just have to wait until the winter holidays.
As the evening grew longer, the crowd thinned, until there was just herself, a few of the sponsors and about half of the team that had worked on the Neanderthal woman left. Dr. Loveless stifled a yawn.
“Long day, hm?” Emilio, who was by now standing next to her, remarked. “Time to drop the curtain on this?”
“Hum, yeah,” she nodded, throwing a glance around the room, “I think it’s safe to leave now. Not many people left.”
“Let’s go, then.”
They made their way towards the entrance hall where they had left their coats, and gave the poor souls who were staffing the cloak room a generous tip before making their way outside, in the direction of the parking lot. They walked in silence until they had reached Dr. Nabarro’s car, when, instead of just unlocking the car, he turned around to face her:
“Hey, what do you say we let the whole evening fade out on a nice cup of coffee over at that little bar near my place?”
She was just about to say no, since she was feeling a bit tired and worn out, when realization hit her. The whole situation, both right now, and how they had been working so close together over the last two years, and how she had always enjoyed his company without really thinking in the direction that it had obviously been going… how could she have not seen it? And, even more important, why had she not seen it? Or rather, a small voice at the back of her mind told her, why hadn’t she admitted it to herself up until now?
She could see him fidget with the car keys, probably not taking her confused silence too well. Time to act, then.
“Yes,” she told him, her face radiating with a bright, warm smile: “I’d love to.”
-------------------
Epilogue – Southern Spain, ca. 30,000 BCE
Even after all these years, Bengir could still remember where he had buried her. He had forgotten where they had buried Nehar, he had even forgotten where they had laid his father to rest, but he had never forgotten where he had buried her. The woman who had probably saved, and, for sure, changed his life such a long time ago.
His clan had left the plains in the following spring, following the herds of horses and buffalo along their grazing routes. It had taken a long time until they had finally returned to the place. One of the younger hunters had suggested that they make their camp in the secluded valley over the hills, but a lot of the others had been against that, himself included. Even though the valley was a nice spot, both because of its seclusion and because of the abundance of prey, nuts, berries and other sustenance that the nearby forests held, nobody really wanted to go there. At least nobody who had been a part of the raiding party that had set out and drenched its earth with blood a few years ago. To his relief, the head man had supported their opinion without much ado, and so they had settled on the plains again.
His wife had been pregnant with their first child in that year, so he had gone along on quite a few hunts, to make sure that he had first call on the best pieces of meat, and also on the fatty bone marrow that would keep her and the baby strong. At first, he had tried to avoid the glade of the deer, but something had drawn him to it until, one day, he had told the others he would be looking for small game, and had made his way over to the spot where he had met her. The fallen tree that he had hit his head on had decayed so much, it was hardly more than a bit of bark and spongey wood that fell apart at his lightest touch. Grass and moss had grown over the spot where he had dug her grave and had laid her down on her side, her hand with the lion in it pulled up to her chest.
He had spent the afternoon just sitting there, thinking back on that summer, still not at all sure what exactly had happened back then. Oh, he knew all the bits and pieces, but somehow, it failed to make sense. At least in hindsight, because he could remember how it had had made sense back when it happened, back when he had seen the corpse of his father.
From that day on, he had visited the glade now and then, and not just in that year, but also every time the clan had come back to the area.
A lot of time had passed since then. He had had several children, who, in turn, had had children of their own. Just a few days ago, the fourth generation carrying his family’s sign had been born. And he had met other flatheads, but none of them as numerous as the clan Nia had been from. They had kept away from those people, not wanting to risk bloodshed and slaughter again. But, through his own observation and the tales of others, he had come to the coclusion that those strange, flat-headed people were leaving the earth. There seemed to be less and less of them each year. And now that he was old, his bones weary and his hair grey, he had not seen or heard of them for years.
He groaned as he sat down on the mossy forest floor, his back and joints having their revenge on him for making them work so much, walking all the way up and then halfway down the hill. He sat still for a moment, feeling the warmth of the sun on his face, waiting for the ache in his body to subside. Finally, he laid a hand on the ground:
“I think this is the last time I’ll be coming here, Nia. I’m sorry. But my body is giving up.” He laughed, a rasping, half coughing sound: “It did make it for quite some time, though. I really thought I would die back then.”
He smiled, and shook his head: “The clan has decided to make camp in the valley again. I still don’t like it there. All those memories, I’ve never been able to put them to rest. But then, I probably shouldn’t, right? There’s just some things that you should not forget, or else, you’ll do the same mistakes again.” He looked around, listening intently. He thought he had heard a sound, just a few heartbeats ago, but now, everything was as quiet as it had been before. As it had always been. Peaceful and quiet. He went on: “Anyway, like I said, I won’t be visiting you again. My time on this earth is up. Don’t ask me how I know this,” he chuckled again, “when you get as old as me, you just know.”
Again, he heard a sound, and this time he was sure he was not mistaken. A short snap, a brach, breaking under the pressure of someone’s foot.
“Come out, whoever you are.” He called out, shaking his head in irritation. Somehow, his children had taken it to their heads that he needed to be looked after. As if. He was still perfectly able to look after himself. After all, he had done so for nearly sixty summers now.
“It’s me,” the voice of one of his granddaughters, Sharai, called, and the girl moved out from where she had been hiding. “Who were you talking to?” She cocked her head, looking at him with curiosity in her eyes.
He smiled: “I was talking to one of the forest spirits. We’re old friends.” Or, he thought, at least I hope we are.
“Really? You’re friends with a forest spirit?”
He nodded: “Yes. Which is why I don’t need anybody to follow me when I’m going here. And you can tell that to your mother and father, too.” The hurt, taken aback look on the girl’s face made him immediately forget his slight irritation, and he smiled at her, holding out his hand: “But now that you’re here, how about helping me up? And then, we can go back.”
Sharai nodded, once again the happy girl she usually was: “All right. And on the way back, you can tell me about how you got to be friends with a forest spirit?”
With the help of her strong hand, he pulled himself up out of his sitting position: “I might just do that, yes.” And maybe he really should. After all, people died, but memories, stories could live on, even if the people they were about had long since gone.
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Date: 2007-12-01 01:31 am (UTC)