This is a blog hop to celebrate Jacqui Murray's publication of an interesting book, Against All Odds. If you think travel is tough today, or even in the era before cars or trains, imagine what's it was like almost a million years before McDonalds and even before Howard Johnson's dotted the highways. In this prehistoric saga, Xhosa faces hardship, courage, survival, and family. After having read Craig Childs Atlas for a Lost World, I'm intrigued. But Murray goes back way before Childs! Check it out.
Summary
A
million years of evolution made Xhosa tough but was it enough? She and
her People finally reach their destination—a glorious land of tall
grasses,
few predators, and an abundance that seems limitless, but an enemy
greater than any they have met so far threatens to end their dreams. If
Xhosa can’t stop this one, she and her People must again flee.
The
Crossroads
trilogy is set 850,000 years ago, a time in prehistory when man
populated most of Eurasia. He was a violent species, fully
capable of addressing the many hardships that threatened his survival
except for one: future man, a smarter version of himself, one destined
to obliterate all those who came before.
From
prehistoric fiction author Jacqui Murray comes the unforgettable saga
of a courageous woman who questions assumptions, searches for truth,
and does what she must despite daunting opposition. Read the final
chapter of her search for freedom, safety, and a new home.
A perfect book for fans of Jean Auel and the Gears!
FAQ concerning the book:
Big Heads smarter than Xhosa’s species?
What
Xhosa refers to as “Big Heads” were an archaic form of our species,
Homo sapiens. Morphologically and behaviorally, they fall between
Homo erectus and modern Homo sapiens. They had higher foreheads and
prominent chins. They were probably less violent than Homo erectus but
based on the shape of their cranium, solved more problems with brains
than brawn. If we define “smarter” as “cleverer”,
then yes, they were. The rise of multiple archaic forms of Homo sapiens
contributed to the end of the long-thriving Homo erectus.
Remember:
Xhosa and Wind resulted from a mating between archaic Homo sapiens and
Homo erectus making them brighter than the average among
Xhosa’s People.
?What does “strong” and “weak” side mean?
Based
on artifacts from 850,000 years ago (and longer), paleoscientists
speculate that early man preferred their right hand. That made
their right hand stronger than the left (though they didn’t identify
“right” and “left” at that time). Because of this, my characters call
the right side their “strong side” and left the “weak side”.
The foothills of the Pyrenees
They
came out of the mountains, hair frozen in sparkling strands, hands and
feet wrapped in shredded pelts, ribs etched against their skin under
ragged hides white with
snow, faces haggard with fatigue. Blood crusted scrapes and gashes,
many recent, others almost healed, reminders of the violent struggles
endured on their journey.
Though
their steps flagged, not one of these upright creatures exhibited a
hint of defeat. All males and a few females carried at least one spear,
some two, many with
warclubs strapped to their backs. Despite the anxiety and fear of
entering this foreign land, hope energized them today, that their
migration might be at an end.
All
of them—Xhosa and her tribe, Pan-do and his, Wind, Zvi, and Seeker—had
been chased from their homes by enemies. In their flight, they found
each other. It took time
to work through their differences but now they traveled side by side,
respected ideas not theirs, and called themselves the People.
Their
charismatic Leaders—Xhosa, Wind, and Pan-do—were known as reliable
friends to those who earned their trust and dangerous enemies to those
who opposed them. Two wolves—Spirit
and Black Wolf—journeyed with them. Though the People lacked the
animals’ sharp claws, dense fur, and piercing teeth, each considered the
other “pack” and would defend them to death.
The
exhausted group straggled down the gently sloping flank, feet shuffling
carefully over the slippery scree. The ground changed from talus to
stunted tufts of grass,
sparse and brown which made walking easier. Optimism shone from their
faces even as their tired eyes flicked side to side in search of
unexpected movement, ears strained for out-of-place noises, and noses
sniffed.
Rather than continue across the meadow, Xhosa led the People into the shade of the edging forest.
“Do you smell it, Wind?” Anticipation filled her gestures.
She
and Wind, pairmates as well as Co-Leaders, stood quietly, absorbing
their surroundings. Light filtered lazily through the canopy, the
shadowed ground dappled with
patches of warmth. She sniffed in the essence of wet earth and rotting
leaves, the mustiness of moss, and something else much more enticing.
“It’s there.” She pointed and strode forward, lengthening her stride.
An
icy gust whipped down the hillside through the shadows and raised bumps
on her arms but she ignored it. The forest gave way to open sky and
searing heat. It was too
hot for her thin pelt but she didn’t stop to remove it. Green stalks
swayed as far as she could see, edged on one side by more mountains and
the other by some sort of leaves and branches. Sunlight glinted off the
rippled surface of a distant river as it curled
over the terrain.
“Dung!” The scent overpowered every other odor.
Wind huffed to her side. “It’s been a long time since we smelled dung that wasn’t frozen.”
“We did it, Wind.” Her eyes glistened with relief.
For
most of a Moon, dread gnawed at her courage and left her wondering if
following the guidance of Seeker—a boy barely a man—was a mistake. But
Seeker assured her in
his ebullient way that once out of the hills, their new homebase would
welcome them. Xhosa wanted to believe him because she wasn’t sure what
else to do. Nor did she know what to do if it didn’t work.
Wind motioned, arms inclusive, “It’s beautiful, Xhosa.”
Siri,
Pan-do, Ngili, the wolves Spirit and Black Wolf, and the rest of the
People gathered around Xhosa and Wind, eyes locked on what lay in front
of them.
Pan-do whispered, “We made it.” His eyes were moist, mouth open.
Ngili, the People’s Lead Hunter, motioned, hands close to his body. “With all this grass, Gazelle or Mammoth must be nearby.”
Dust, the Lead Scout, trotted up, coming from a tall cliff far ahead on their forward path. “I think there are caves there.”
The People hadn’t slept in a cave since leaving Viper and the Mountain Dwellers. It would be a treat if true.
Xhosa
looked behind. Shadows already stretched as far from the bottom of the
rocky slopes as sunlight to the top. Daylight would soon end.
“We don’t have much time. Let’s rest and then see if those are caves.”
Ngili,
the People’s Lead Hunter, motioned, fingers spaced out, palms up, “I’ll
go with Dust to check.” He added a swift spread-fingered swipe with
first one hand and then
the other, followed by a quick bob of his head and a puff.
Xhosa brushed both hands down her sides.
Go.
The
People spoke with a complex combination of hand motions, facial
expressions, body movements, and sounds augmented with chirrups, snaps,
hisses, and whistles. By the
time Ngili finished talking, Xhosa knew how many would join him, where
they would go, and how long they’d be away. The People’s communication
was sophisticated but quiet, a precaution especially in unfamiliar
areas. Unusual sounds—voices, for example—stood
out. All animals made noises but few as varied as the People’s. Why
alert Others who lived here to their presence? Xhosa would do that in
her own time, in her own way.
Dust,
Ngili, and two scouts soon receded into the landscape, the only
evidence of their passage a slight disturbance in the slender waving
stalks. Despite the dung scents,
the abundant plant food, and the glisten of a faraway river, Xhosa
crossed her arms over her chest and paced.
Something is wrong.
She
searched the forests and the rippling field that had swallowed up Dust
and Ngili . Xhosa possessed the ability to see great distances in
sufficient detail to find
trails, footprints, movement, or the glitter of sun off eyes.
She saw none of those and that made her more uncomfortable.
With this wealth of food and water, Others should be here.
Wind
motioned, palms flattened against his chest, “The mountains we crossed
touched Sun. They’re cold and barren. Few can do what we did to get
here, Xhosa. We are safe.”
Xhosa
could hear in his voice, see in his gestures, that despite his bravado,
Wind too felt uneasy about what they didn’t see and hear.
But she grinned. “I don’t know how I survived without someone being able to read my thoughts.”
She
trotted over to a stream that fed into the river she had noticed. She
stretched out on her belly, flat on the soft grass at the water’s edge,
and took a long, satisfying
drink of the sweet liquid. Thirst quenched, she collected handfuls of
the tender shoots of new plants growing along the shore, ate what she
wanted and tossed the rest into a communal food pile that would be
shared with all the People. It was already filling
up with fat fish speared from the slow-moving pools beside the river,
tasty reeds and cattails, and even a handful of eggs plucked from nests
not hidden well enough along the shore and in the roots of trees. The
wolves snapped birds from the air and swallowed
them almost whole, coughing up feathers.
Xhosa
leaned back on her hands, sniffing the unique fragrance of each
groupmember. Zvi was sweaty from wrestling with Spirit. Siri smelled
sourly of hunger but she wouldn’t
eat until Honey’s bleeding foot was wrapped in mulch and leaves. The
females with new babies exuded the pleasant aroma of milk. Some scents
jumbled together making them impossible to identify. When Xhosa became
Leader of the People, before it merged with Pan-do’s
and Hawk’s, the People had been small enough that she could recognize
everyone by their odor. Now, she kept track of her tribe while Pan-do
did the same with his. Wind helped everyone.
Done
eating, the People sprawled on the warm ground, soaking up Sun’s
remaining rays, chatting contentedly with gestures and the occasional
sigh. Water dripped from their
thawing bodies, soaking into the thirsty ground, as the remaining ice
and snow on their pelts and in their hair melted away.
Xhosa
and Wind sat apart from the others, on a log long ago softened by rot.
She uprooted handfuls of grass and wiped the sweat from Wind’s body, as
he did hers. The soft
scratch felt good and the earthy fragrance reminded her of times long
gone. When he finished, she harvested chunks of green moss from the
log’s decaying bark and stuffed them into her neck sack. All the People
wore one of these around their necks. Even the
wolves did when they were migrating.
Finished,
she leaned against Wind and closed her eyes. In a group of Others, her
pairmate stood out. A Big Head, the People’s traditional enemy, the ones
who drove Xhosa
and her tribe from their long-established home, Wind had earned Xhosa’s
trust by saving her life more than once and then, as a member of her
People, sharing Big Head spear tricks and warrior skills with her Leads.
Before long, each of them individually told
her that thanks to Wind they could now defeat an attack which they
couldn’t have done in the past. Whatever distrust her People harbored
toward him faded away.
“Xhosa!” Dust panted up to her. “I found a cave. And we found trace of a herd. Ngili is tracking it.”
By
the time Sun settled into its night nest, the People were ensconced in
the cave Dust found. They had to squeeze together to fit but all were
thrilled to sleep without
waking to frozen toes and numb fingers. Stone and Zvi—the burliest of
the People—lugged rocks in and Siri built a fire that quickly warmed the
interior. The subadults gathered kindling to feed it and arranged who
would be responsible throughout the night for
keeping it lit.
Usually,
the wolves slept scattered among the People but with Black Wolf close
to delivering her pups, she dug out an opening in the back and claimed
it as her den. Then
she settled to her belly, one leg forward, the other bent back,
eyebrows twitching.
Xhosa
strode toward the nest she would share with Wind but stopped at the
sight of Seeker, weight on his bottom, legs crossed in front of his body
in the uncomfortable
position he preferred. His pairmate Lyta curled next to him with their
best friend, Zvi.
Xhosa approached Seeker. “You are not outside.”
Every
night as long as Xhosa could remember, the enigmatic male lay on his
back, gaze fixed steadily on the star-dotted sky, spouting what to Xhosa
sounded like gibberish
to whoever listened. Intermittently, he leapt to his feet and spun
dizzying circles or bounced from one foot to the other, huffing and
chirping. Lyta and Zvi would either join him or watch. He once explained
to Xhosa that this was how he studied the changes
in the night sky—the appearance and disappearance of particular stars
or their movement in relation to each other—so he could guide the People
accurately. This nightly process was how they had moved from the
distant start of Endless Pond to this cave where
Endless Pond seemed to end.
He
didn’t respond to her statement, didn’t even acknowledge her. That
worried Xhosa. She hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that danger
lurked around them, somewhere.
Seeker’s anxious look didn’t help.
She squatted at his side and added a question to her declaration. “The stars aren’t talking to you?”
To
the side, Lyta wriggled, not comfortable in the seated position Seeker
preferred but determined to try because Seeker liked it so much. Zvi
crouched on the balls of
her feet, the more traditional pose. She’d tried to sit on her bottom,
legs crossed in front, but kept falling backward. Besides, it took her
too long to rise from that position which meant if Lyta needed help, she
couldn’t respond quickly. Squatting, for
her, made more sense. Seeker didn’t care. He expected all to do what
worked for them. Both his best friend and his future pairmate were long
accustomed to his eccentricities.
Finally, Seeker offered Xhosa only a confused frown.
That’s not a “Yes they are,”
and that
raised the hair on her neck. Before she could ask more, Ngili scrambled
through the thistle barrier the youngsters had placed around the cave’s
mouth to prevent the entrance of intruders and hurried
toward Xhosa.
He
motioned, “I lost the herd’s trace in the dark. I’ll try again
tomorrow,” and then raced toward where the hunters had gathered. They
were all tired. Some would mate
before sleeping but not Ngili. He hadn’t given up hope that his
pairmate, Hecate, would come back.
After
a final glance at Seeker, Xhosa joined Wind in their nest. She squatted
behind him and teased the dirt and debris from his long head hair,
occasionally focusing
on a difficult tangle until her fingers could move easily through his
hair. When she finished, he did the same for her.
As he groomed, he said, “I’ll join Ngili tomorrow. If there are herds, we will find them.”
“Pan-do and I will continue with the People.”
They
said nothing more, both enjoying the calming feel of nails scratching
on their skin and the intimacy of someone they trusted implicitly. Done,
both fell asleep.
The
first rays of daylight filtered into the cave. Black Wolf was already
outside, padding back and forth restlessly, huffing uncomfortably. Wind
left with Ngili and a
handful of scouts, knowing Xhosa would leave a trail to wherever they
settled when Sun’s light ran out. Though Spirit usually went with the
hunters, today he stayed with Black Wolf.
Xhosa
and Pan-do led. Dust copied their pace and direction but a distance
away. With Ngili and Wind searching for meat, Xhosa focused on finding a
cave large enough for
the People. They strode onward, gaze sweeping the landscape, everyone
grazing on berries, roots, and worms as they walked. Sporadically, Xhosa
heard a faraway squawk or glimpsed a covey of birds as they exploded
into flight, fleeing an unknown threat. It was
the direction Ngili and Wind had gone, and told her how far they’d
gotten.
The
People rested by a waterhole. They searched its shoreline for prints
but found none. Wherever the herds lived, they didn’t drink here so the
People moved on, through
copses of young saplings and around a bed of haphazardly-strewn
boulders. The air tasted of flowers, warm earth, and the mild tang of
salt, but the dung they found was hard and old.
Xhosa touched Pan-do’s hand and both stopped, eyes forward. “Do you smell that? It reminds me of Endless Pond.”
He pointed to his strong side and the direction they were walking. “From there and there. How can it be on two sides?”
Xhosa
tingled. One of her People—Rainbow—had abandoned them long ago, taking
many males and females with him. Others she and her People ran into
while migrating here told
her Rainbow traveled the same route she did but along the opposite
shore of Endless Pond. For him, as for her, this was as far as he could
go without folding back on himself.
If they got this far. If any survived.
She
pushed aside those thoughts. Before searching for whatever remnants
remained of Rainbow’s group, the People must find a homebase. All they
suffered to get here—the
interminable walking, the loss of Hawk, the death of groupmembers,
Nightshade’s treachery—was for naught if they didn’t establish a home.
Spirit bumped her leg. Black Wolf panted at her mate’s side, her belly almost touching the ground.
Xhosa motioned, “Your mate’s pups won’t wait much longer. We will find a den for her.”
Spirit took off, his movements graceful and fluid with Black Wolf lumbering after him.
Not much later, Pan-do squinted ahead. “I think Spirit found a cave.”
Xhosa
leaned forward, narrowing her gaze, and finally saw where Spirit
stopped. He sat on his haunches at the base of a cliff, facing her, nose
twitching, tail swishing
the dirt behind him.
It
took the rest of the day to cross over the craggy scrubland, up and
down the deep ravines, and around the occasional spot of slippery ice.
The cave proved too small
for the People but not for Black Wolf’s needs. With much scuffling and
panting, she created a nest for her pups and disappeared into the cool
dark hole. The People settled outside, under an overhang that would
protect them from rain and predators, and far
enough away to not bother the new mother. As soon as Ngili and Wind
arrived, shaking their heads that they hadn’t found a herd, they left
again to search for signs of a trail left by former inhabitants of this
cave.
Xhosa’s
chest squeezed and her stomach knotted. Spirit padded up to her side,
hackles puffed, nostrils flaring. He agreed. Something about this area
made her tingle but
for now, until Black Wolf finished, they must stay.
Book information:
Title and author:
Against All Odds
Series: Book 3 in the
Crossroads series
Genre: Prehistoric fiction
Author bio:
Jacqui Murray
is
the author of the popular Building
a Midshipman
,
the story of her daughter’s journey from high school to United States Naval Academy, the Rowe-Delamagente
thrillers, and the Man
vs. Nature saga. She
is also adjunct professor of technology in education, blog webmaster, an Amazon
Vine Voice, a columnist for
NEA Today,
and a freelance journalist on tech ed topics. Look for her next prehistoric fiction, Laws of Nature, Book 2 in the
Dawn of Humanity
trilogy, Winter 2021.
Author's Social Media contacts:
Website:
https://jacquimurray.net
