The Glaciermen #23: Bulltooth

Early access prepublication manuscripts of "The Glaciermen"

Image courtesy of Biodiversity Heritage Library

Hello again, Dear Readers,

I experimented with this one: I wrote it out with a pen and paper rather than a computer after hearing that a prolific author I respect does the same.

Two reasons given are that it removes the numerous distractions of modern devices, while also allowing the mind more time before having to commit words on the page.

Counter-intuitively, typing is actually too fast in some sense. Ironically, when looking at actual output of words per hour, I actually write slightly faster while doing it by hand, and I even included the extra time it took to type it all up afterward!

Best of all, I felt like I wrote better. So hopefully that’s true. Feel free to let me know…

(Here’s the previous segment if you missed it, and the first chapter and index, if you’re new).

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Bulltooth

Recap: Lee has survived the rough trip across the glacier on the way to hunt a bulltooth for the Second Trial, but now he’s out of food and there’s nothing to do but wait…

Lee peered over the rocky edge of the rise, counting at least a dozen of the lumbering creatures bathing in the sun next to the sparkling blue water of the inlet, which was about three miles across and long enough to stretch away past the horizon. The inlet was in a coastal valley, flanked by mountains on both sides and trailing west toward the North Atlantic.

Lee’s stomach panged. He had not eaten in nearly three days, and even what he had eaten two nights ago had come back up when his body rejected the oral ingestion of the godseye gel. In short, he was hungry, and his next meal was frustratingly attached to one of the two ton beasts lounging below, and it probably wasn’t too eager to part with one of its flanks, nor a juicy filet from its back.

Lee tried to ignore his hunger and went over his strategy again. Aguta had told him to seek out an isolated bulltooth. His odds were precarious enough against one, but he certainly would be slaughtered if he tried to take one while part of a group. Usually, the opportunity arose when the majority of a gathering of the large pinnipeds decided to slip back into the water, leaving a few stragglers here and there on the rocks. That was the time to strike, sneaking in low and fast and stabbing deep into the beast with his spear before it knew what was happening, then waiting for the blood loss from the wound to slow it down enough for him to cut away at it with his blade until it was weak enough for the killing blow—all while preventing it from escaping back into the sea. Unfortunately for Lee, this plan meant waiting until the gathered beasts decided in their animal minds that they were tired of this particular spot and moved on. But they seemed quite content at the moment, lounging peacefully in the sun, occasionally slapping a flipper or letting out their iconic ‘arp’ sounds. Not even one of them had moved into the water since Lee began surveilling them at first light, hours and hours ago now, so there was nothing for him to do except mull endlessly over his plan and keep waiting.

The boy scooted back from the edge of his vantage point on the ridge, dropping out of sight of his quarry to take a lunch break and get a change of scenery. Since he had no food, he had taken to sucking on pebbles while sipping water to trick his mind into thinking he had a real meal. He saw that on TV once, or read it in a magazine, or at least heard it somewhere… he couldn’t really remember. Regardless, it seemed to help a little, so Lee searched around the stones near him until he found a pebble of suitable shape and size, then popped it into his cheek before reclining with his waterskin.

As he sucked on the pebble and sipped melted ice water, he could not help but be drawn into the stunning beauty of the landscape. Mountains stood all around him, rising up and away from the inlet to pierce into the sky. Hidden behind them to the east was the glacier, though a white arm of ice reached through and was visible a couple of miles away in the gap between the two peaks which guarded the pass he had used to enter the end of the valley.

Lee almost couldn’t believe he had come from there, especially dragging a sled, but the distance was a trick on the eye, and the smooth layer of ice had made much of the journey easier. It had taken nearly as long to cover the mile or so of uneven, rocky ground as it had taken to cross the last ten miles of glacial ice. This achievement may have been impressive, but it had taken a lot of energy, which had only served to make Lee even hungrier, pebble or no pebble, and all the waiting wasn’t helping anything either. Now he was hungry and bored.

Lee reached into the pocket of his parka and pulled out the small wooden canister. He looked at it for a few seconds, pondering the strange effect caused by its contents, then put it back in his pocket. He did not want to have to use it again. Instead, he picked up another pebble and tossed it aimlessly. He watched it bounce against a few of its companions before coming to a stop. He tossed another pebble, trying to land it next to the first. The pebble bounced a few times before landing a foot away from the first. It was not good entertainment, but he had been watching bulltooths lie around for half a day straight, so any alternative was good enough at this point. Then, in a spark of entertainment genius, Lee spat the pebble from his mouth with a loud, theatrical ‘patooey!’ The wet projectile streaked through the air toward its target. Direct hit! He clasped his hands and shook them in the air to a chorus of applause from an imaginary crowd.

A rising chorus of ‘arps’ rose from the other side of the ridge, cutting Lee’s celebration short. He scurried back up to the edge to get a look at the cause of the commotion. Most of the beasts were already flopping across the rocks toward the water. They must have heard him spit the pebble and got spooked. No, that didn’t make sense, they couldn’t possibly have heard him. It must have been something else—but who cared, this was his chance—one of the bulltooths was heading away from the water and straying from the rest of the pack!

Lee checked that his blade and ice pick were secured in his belt, then grabbed his spear before dashing over the ridge and down after the lone beast. Rocks skittered under his feet as he ran toward the creature. It was about a hundred yards from his perch, still flopping and arp-ing away from the rest of its companions. Something in the back of Lee’s mind questioned why a singular bulltooth would have strayed from the safety of the herd, but in his excitement at the opportunity he paid the feeling no heed.

Lee was closing in on the animal, with only a few dozen yards to go, so he set his grip on the spear, making sure his hands were positioned exactly as Aguta had shown him. The beast finally noticed Lee, its head turning toward him for a moment as he ran toward it from the side, but it chose to ignore him and continued onward in the same direction.

Finally, some good luck! Lee thought.

The boy’s heart was pounding as he crossed the last few yards, his spear pointing straight toward the spot just behind the animal’s left arm. He was aiming for its lungs. If his aim was true, and he got lucky enough to slip the spearpoint between the bulltooth’s rib cage, he would pierce its lungs, and the beast would be dead within minutes, drowned in its own blood. It was the most humane, honorable option—otherwise the fight could drag on for a long time, and the animal would suffer a slow painful death from countless non-fatal cuts from the blade.

Lee was upon it now. He yelled a guttural war cry and plunged the tip of the spear into the bulltooth’s side, just behind the arm. The sharpened stone tip slid easily into the fatty outer layer of flesh, then slowed as it encountered the tougher resistance of muscle and sinew, but Lee’s form had been nearly perfect, and his grip was strong—the momentum from his charge was behind the spear, pushing the spearpoint deep into the animal. He did not feel the telltale jarring stop of hitting bone.

The bulltooth let out a shrieking cry, then recognizing Lee as the source of its wound, flailed its whole body in a violent twist, thrashing toward the boy with its fearsome tusks. Lee dove out of the way, narrowly dodging the deadly ivory spikes. He rolled with the dive, deftly coming to his feet and scampering away several paces until he was out of the lumbering creature’s reach.

The bulltooth strained its neck to bite at the haft of the spear buried in its side, but the awkward location of the wound made reaching it impossible. It shrieked and flailed again, turning its whole body in a wild, powerful barrel roll. The haft of the spear snapped off against the ground as if it were a toothpick.

Lee continued to stand back at a distance. He drew his machete, waiting for the right moment to slash at the creature to weaken it further before the killing strike, but it looked like he might not need to. In the beast’s effort to get at the spear, it had only managed to drive it deeper into its own flesh. Blood poured from both the wound at its side and now from its mouth. Lee’s spear must have found its lungs. He could see it weakening already before his eyes. There would be a chance soon for the killing blow.

Before Lee could find an opening, the bulltooth suddenly stopped thrashing, looked once toward Lee, then turned and tried to flee as best it could in its weakened state. Lee was a bit confused, but he made to follow after the animal anyway as it streaked a trail of dark blood across the rocky ground. 

As Lee took the first step, a great roar resounded from behind him. His stomach dropped. Everything suddenly made sense: the cause of the commotion, the reason the herd suddenly broke for the water, why this bulltooth had frantically gone off on its own and why it just now turned to flee desperately. It was not because of Lee.

The boy whipped around, machete swiping, but there was a flash of white and something heavy slammed into his chest. Then he was flying through the air. The seconds slowed down as he watched the ground twist sideways then up and away from him, turning from its correct place underneath the sky and trading places with it until his feet pointed toward a sea of cloudless blue and a ceiling of rocky soil sprawled above his head. Lee had the strangest sentiment that they were moving around him and not the other way around.

Then the moment was over, and the ground flew up to crash into Lee. He tumbled chaotically. The side of his head hit something—hard—then there was a clattering somewhere nearby as his machete found the ground too. Then he was still, slumped on his side and facing toward the bulltooth, which had now come to a final rest some distance off.

His head throbbed and a dull pain filled his entire body. His chest was on fire. The pain  was everywhere, but oddly, it felt as if at a distance, or belonging to someone else. His vision blurred almost to blindness. The last thing he saw made little sense to his freshly concussed mind. A small cloud must have taken leave of its place in the sky, for a great white mass was rolling toward the blurry brown lump that had been the bulltooth. Lee’s vision darkened completely, and he slipped away to sounds of crunching bone and tearing flesh.

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And that’s it for now folks

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