Mammoths Never Forget.

The man trudged down the snowy slope of the mountain. Far away, he could see the spire of smoke and the dull glow the fires at his encampment made. He did not envy his family and friends who were warm, cold as he was. He had an appointment to keep….
He reached the shallow pit at the bottom of the valley. Taking care not to step on the massive bones, he slowly made his way to a sheltered part where a rock blocked most of the wind. Rubbing a few pieces of flint together over a pile of wood he’d brought, his mind drifted to the past.
20 years ago……

There was a huge celebration in the camp. After all 3 mammoths in a day was a huge catch for a camp of 15 people. The boy was very happy and proud that his father had been the one who had devised the trap. Now they dragged the exhausted mammoths to the centre on the camp. It was then he saw the 3rd mammoth. It was an infant. It stayed close to its mother as she was dragged up unceremoniously, tethered to two giant logs. It looked at him at the same time.

He didn’t know what made him do it. The boy’s father was not a emotional man, certainly not a sentimental one. But something about his son’s request had moved him. He gave in and the mammoth now belonged to the boy. No-one grudged him anything as the two mammoth they had just slayed meant food for at least 6 months. They were not selfish people.

His mother asked him what he was going to call his new pet. He thought a while and replied “Ken.”

Ken followed the boy everywhere. He even tried to sleep with him, but the boy’s mother stayed firm on that matter. Even so, he never was more than 10 meters away from the boy. They did everything together and the days evolved into years.

“You have to let him go now,” his mother told him. “Don’t worry, he’ll always be yours. Mammoths never forget.” As so Ken was free to go. With one last look at his savior and best friend, the mammoth ambled away into the valley.
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The sparks took their time to appear, but when they did, the fire crackled merrily. The man wrapped his blanket made of skin tighter around his body and tried to warm himself. As he stared into the leaping flames, he recollected a fire brighter than any he had ever seen. The winter the marauderers had come to their valley…..10 years ago….

The huts were on fire. There was screaming everywhere. They had taken the camp by surprise. The boy was roused by his father yelling. He instinctively grabbed a spear and ran out. He saw his father cornered by the leader of the bandits and 6 of his henchmen, hopelessly outnumbered. Screaming loudly, he too jumped into the fray though he knew it was hopeless. As he turned to face the leader, he saw a blur of a large shape rush past him.

The man next to the leader was thrown into the air. The mammoth turned to the others who panicked and ran for their lives. Their leader ad never informed them about a tame mammoth that belonged to the encampment. The leader raised his spear and thrust it at the mammoth. The boy screamed and flung his own spear at the leader. It pierced him squarely in the chest and he went down. But even as he did the boy knew he’d been too late. The spear had gone cleanly into Ken’s forehead. The battle was over.

As the boy rushed towards Ken, he turned to look at his best friend. He lifted him up with his trunk and placed him on his back. Then he ambled off, down the same direction he had ten years ago into the valley taking the boy along with him. At the bottom they reached a pit and there he placed the boy down. He turned around and looked at him. He raised his trunk to his forehead. And then he stepped into the pit and lay down as the boy began to weep. His eyes closed and the boy, weeping, ran up the valley back to the camp.

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Every year since then, the boy had come to the valley on the day of the battle. He would spend a few hours there and return. But this was the first time he had come at night. There had been a blizzard and it had slowed his descent down the valley.
As he sat near the fire, he heard a howl quite close to him. The wolves had come down the valley in search of food for the winter. And they had found it. They circled around him, waiting for his move. He grabbed a flaming brand and faced the largest of them, the pack leader. One of the wolves attempted a grab and the man struck his down with the log. The pack became more careful after that.

The man knew he didn’t stand a chance against these wolves. They were hungry and the cold made them desperate. And there were still five of them. Even making a dash for it might have ended it immediately. The leader took one step forward and bared his canines. The man waved the brand around fiercely, but he could see that it was not working anymore.

Suddenly the leader became very cautious. He howled into the night and stepped back. The rest of the pack looked around bewildered. The man strained to see what they were looking for in all the snow and sleet.
There was a blur as a large shape rushed past the man. The pack leader was flung up and then trampled upon. The rest of the pack fled in a cacophony of howls as Ken turned around and looked at the man. He then raised his trunk to the forehead, stepped into the pit and lay down. And as he closed his eyes, the man smiled….

His mother had been right all along.
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Mammoths never forget…………