The Chronicles of Amon book 1 LINK

  Chapter 3.

  He remembered when he was just a youngster, he had watched his mother use a stone to crack the tough shells of nuts, a delicacy he relished when they ripened and fell to the ground. He remembered how he had marvelled as she selected the stone carefully, rejecting first one and then another, being careful not to use one so heavy that it completely crushed both the tough shell and the sweet nut inside. He remembered snuggling closer to her, waiting with eager anticipation for the treat he was soon to enjoy. Over succeeding months his curiosity grew, as did his strength. He began trying what he had seen his mother do. At first he had selected stones which were easy to pick up. But, though he had tried time and again to crack the tough shells, he had failed. Once he had chosen a stone that had taken all his strength to lift. As he strained to lift it as high as he could, it slipped from his grasp and crashed down onto his foot. He had yelped in pain and ran whimpering and limping to his mother for comfort.

  For some time afterward he shied away from any further attempts with the stones. But eventually his desire to taste the sweet nut overcame his fear. After more practice he was finally able to pick just the right size stone for the job. He had spent much of the remainder of the season perfecting his new skill and had luxuriated in the taste of his favorite treat. Eventually the season for the nuts ran out, and with it the need to use stones. Though he no longer had a need for the stones, the memory of how he had been injured remained with him. He recognized the stone as a potential weapon.

  Searching for stones under the thick matted jungle floor had become an exercise in futility. Tangled vines and roots blocked his efforts at every turn. The few stones he uncovered were either too heavy to move or were so entangled in the undergrowth that they were impossible to extricate.

  Tired and thirsty from his efforts, he moved cautiously toward the small stream from which he and his family drank. It was dangerous to approach the stream alone. His family always went to drink together. That way someone was always alert, watching for signs of danger. All creatures of the jungle needed water, and predators knew this. Not infrequently an unwary victim was snatched away screaming in terror, never to be seen again.

  As silently as he could, he came to the water’s edge. He bent low to the ground, trying to make himself as small and inconspicuous as possible. Cautiously his lips touched the water. Just as he drew in a taste of the coolness, a sudden sound caused him to start.

  Frozen with fear, his eyes and ears strained to locate the source of the sound. There, just a few yards to his right, almost completely hidden from view under a low-hanging frond, a small rodent crouched. The tiny wide-eyed animal was just out of reach of the water’s edge. Its nose twitched ever so slightly as it cautiously moved forward to drink.

  Just as the rodent lowered its head to drink, a shape exploded from the water, fanged jaws agape. In less than a heartbeat, the jaws clamped onto the poor beasts head. Almost as quickly as it had begun, it was over. The serpent snatched its prey back into the water, leaving only a small ripple. The frond swayed ever so slightly above the empty space where the hapless victim had been only a second before.

  Forgetting his thirst, he inched back cautiously, soundlessly. Then, frantic with fear, he sprang toward the nearest tree and scrambled up into the safety of the branches.

  His heart pounding, his breath catching in his throat, he sat there clinging to the tree trunk trying to become invisible. After a short time the pounding subsided and he again breathed more easily. Completely unnerved, he crept slowly down to the ground. Forgetting his thirst, he worked his way from the stream back toward the safety of the family.

  The following morning brought a heavy rain. Slowly, reluctantly, the family left the comfort of their nests and descended to the ground. Infants clung to their mothers’ wet fur, nursing contentedly in the warmth and shelter of their mothers’ bulk. All members in turn made their way to the edge of the group to relieve themselves, and then returned to forage for the first food of the day.

  Alpha, ever dominant and intimidating, now crouched glumly as rivulets of rainwater trickled down between his furrowed brows to drip incessantly from the fur under his chin. Grunting quietly to himself, he rummaged listlessly in the tangled mat around him, probing for succulent grubs or roots to satisfy his hunger.

  The young male now took his turn at the periphery. But instead of returning to the group, he crept quietly away toward the stream. Rainwater had swollen it and the usually clear water was now cloudy, gritty and unpleasant to the taste. He leaned forward cautiously, his hands supporting his weight on the stones protruding above the water’s surface.

  Remembering his need to find another weapon, he pulled the stone he was resting on out of the water. It fit comfortably in the palm of his hand. Still carrying the stone, he worked his way back from the water’s edge. As he lumbered back toward the family he thumped the stone against the ground with each step. It became mud-covered and slippery. Raising his hand as he stepped forward, the stone fell from his grasp. It hit the ground with a wet squishing sound a foot or so in front of him.

  At that moment the idea formed clearly in his mind. Up until this moment he had planned to hold the stone, using it as a club just as he would a stick. Now he realized that by throwing the stone he would not have to risk close-in combat. Considering the ramifications of this discovery, he moved back toward the family, hiding the stone in some thick foliage along the way.

  From that day forward every time he was able to slip away, he’d retrieve the stone from its hiding place and carry it with him to a secluded area. There he would practice tossing the stone.

  At first he was unsuccessful at hitting anything with consistency, regardless of whether it was close by or farther away. His simian posture didn’t lend itself to the task of standing stably on his feet and one hand while he tossed the stone underhand.

  Close-in accuracy gradually improved with practice. But he recognized that the force with which the stone made contact with the target wasn’t going to be sufficient to cause any serious damage to the alpha male. A new method had to somehow be developed.

  From time to time he as well as all other family members had had to stand erect on two feet, usually to reach for something just out of easy reach of a three-point stance. An upright stance could be maintained for a short period of time. But, owing to short legs and long arms, the position was inherently unstable.

  With practice, he became more proficient at standing upright as he tossed the stone (again underhand). Then one day the connection in his brain was made. Why not try throwing the stone overhand? Adopting this method, he immediately recognized the advantages. The overhand method allowed him to apply more force and gain more distance with the throw.

  His skeletal structure restricted the amount of rotation he could obtain in his shoulder joints. This limited him to a side-arm throw, which was inherently inaccurate. He eventually adopted a sort of trebuchet motion, which allowed for more distance and, with practice, much better accuracy.

  In a relatively short time he was able to consistently hit objects several yards away. With continued practice his proficiency grew, as did his confidence. He no longer saw himself as just another member of the clan vying for leadership. He now knew that, owing to his new skills, he had a very good chance of defeating the alpha.

  Then came the rainy season.

  One dreary day followed another. The canopy above offered a welcome change from the dank jungle floor. Refreshing breezes helped pull moisture from the air during the brief interludes between showers. But only birds, a few reptiles, and the smallest of primates could afford themselves such luxury high above the jungle floor. For the others it was their lot to slug it out the best they could in the stifling confines below. The rains would be gone soon enough, and ripe fruit would become harder to find.