Free The Boy of the Painted Cave by Justin Denzel

stumbling, sliding to the bottom with Ram close behind him. Without stopping they ran out across the valley, racing through the knee-high grass, scattering the game before them. The antelopes went bounding away; the horses whinnied and galloped off.
    Breathing heavily, the boy and the wolf dog plunged headlong into the swamps. Here they would be downwind from the animals. They could hide in the tall reed grass and watch in safety.
    Standing in the shallow water, they waited silently as the first groups of mammoths lumbered into the open meadow. Tao pushed aside the reeds to get a better view. He could see the herd clearly now. It was made up of cows, with many yearlings and calves. As tall as the birch trees, some of the older, elephantlike animals had long, sweeping tusks that curved inward, almost crossing over at the ends. Thick, hanging mats of reddish-brown hair covered their bodies, all shaggy and disheveled from late spring shedding.
    The calves wandered on either side of the herd, exploring, romping, then running back. Great black-winged vultures soared overhead, circling the herd.
    Tao counted on his fingers. It was three summers since the mountains-that-walk had come through the valley. Now they were back and Tao was overwhelmed at the sight of them. Of all the animals in the valley, he loved to watch the mountains-that-walk best. They were like the earth, massive, shaggy old giants, lumbering out of the dawn.
    Moving slowly, in scattered groups, the monsters plodded along, pulling up great trunkfuls of grass, bending down the willows and birch trees to get at the succulent buds and twigs.
    Tao was still downwind from the animals. Never had he seen so many, never had he been so near to the gigantic beasts. They were so close he could hear the gurgling rumble of their stomachs. He could smell the musty odor of their bodies and see the clouds of blackflies buzzing around their heads.
    Ram’s eyes followed the slow-moving giants, a low, guttural growl coming from deep within his throat. The boy held him tight by the scruff of the neck, and the wolf dog strained until his breathing was almost choked. Tao could feel Ram’s body tremble with excitement. “No, Ram,” he whispered. “They are too big. You would have no chance against the monsters.”
    The mammoths kept coming and coming, and now they seemed to be everywhere. Then Tao heard sounds behind him, sounds of breaking reeds and sloshing water, sounds of heavy bodies splashing through the swamp. He was no longer downwind. He was no longer safe. They were all around him.
    Suddenly one of the lead cows caught the man scent and sounded the alarm. Long, snakelike trunks swept overhead, searching for the danger. Trumpeting shrieks filled the air. Hurriedly the calves and yearlings moved into the center of the herd.
    The shrieks and squeals and the thundering bodies were everywhere.
    Ram tugged and squirmed, and before Tao could stop him he pulled away and dashed straight into the milling herd.
    â€œStop, Ram, stop!” Tao shouted. But it was too late. Already the wolf dog was leaping and snapping at the legs of the nearest beast.
    Tao cried out, shouting again and again, trying to make himself heard. But his voice was drowned out by pounding feet and wild screams. He stood by helplessly as he saw the wolf dog dart from one angry animal to another, dashing between them, nipping at their legs.
    With amazing quickness the big animals whirled around, lashing out, striking back at this annoying pest. Two or three times Tao saw Ram disappear into a jumble of legs and trunks, any minute expecting him to be thrown into the air or impaled on a long, curved tusk. Once the wolf dog was caught by a swinging trunk and sent sprawling into the swamp-grass. But Ram was quick. He leaped to his feet and charged again, snapping, jumping, dodging out of the way, almost toying with the enraged beasts as the boy looked on in horror.
    Noises filled the swamp, reeds