By William Sarabande
Stunningly visible, terribly unique, powerfully dramatic, here's the 1st quantity of a outstanding new sequence . . .The First Americans. When people first walked the area, whilst nature governed the earth and sky, a proud tribe is threatened via a chain of usual disasters. A daring younger hunter named Torka, who misplaced his spouse and baby to a killer tremendous, leads the survivors over the glacial tundra on a determined eastward odyssey to the shop their clan. Through assaults of savage animals and encounters with strangers no longer in contrast to themselves, they have to courageous the hardships of a international panorama and discover ways to dwell in an unique new international of poser and danger. Toward the land the place the solar rises they need to travel.Beyond the ocean Of Ice, toward a brand new day for his or her clan--and an amazing destiny for the yank.
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Extra info for Beyond the Sea of Ice: The First Americans, Book 1
A thin, dry snow began to fall at about the same time that he first crossed the mammoth's tracks. Tramping on, he knew that it was moving ahead of him, following the route that he and Alinak and Nap had taken outward days ago from the winter camp. Half sobbing, fighting against the pain and weakness that threatened to overwhelm him, Torka hurried on. He knew what was in the mammoth's mind. Poor, foolish Nap had been right. It was a crooked spirit, and its rage was not spent. It was on the scent of Man.
It bored him. Perhaps it was boring Death as well? The thought piqued him. He was Umak! What hunter could boast of more daring deeds than he? Death should be impressed. But even the Arctic's greatest spirit master could only fill a life song with so many stories. How many great bears could a man challenge in one lifetime, or saber-toothed cats, or stampeding herds of giant bison? He was, after all, only a man, despite his extraordinary prowess. What did Death want of him? He could not very well make up stories to extend his life song; that was a taboo that no man would break lest his life spirit be thrown away upon the winds.
Her voice continued on, barely audible, a croon, not to the old man, but to the sleeping infant. "You sap me of my strength, little one. There is not much milk for you now. If the hunters do not soon return with game, the band will move on. But do not be afraid. Sleep. Dream. In this place where you shall stay alone, the spirits will ease your hunger. Dream of that. " Beyond the pit hut, far away across the cold darkness of the Arctic winter noon, a wild dog barked, and Egatsop tensed, listening.
Beyond the Sea of Ice: The First Americans, Book 1 by William Sarabande