Beginning at the End (Moon Child Trilogy: Book One)

by Sandra Lang

The village rapidly becomes more busy as the Great Hunt approaches. The young warriors – for whom this is their first hunt – walk around with a greater anxiety than they did a quarter cycle ago. The older warriors reassure them, but we all know how dangerous a whale hunt can be. Tragedy can fall at any time when one is on the ocean. Most of the men with young children like Sirak elect to stay and protect the tribe. The fewer family members left behind if misfortune strikes the better.

  All day prior to the warriors’ leaving, the tribe is busy. Men move the repaired boats from the work house to the bay. The women bring baskets of food and supplies and place them onto the boats. Unfortunately because the warriors may be gone for a cycle or longer, we can only give them so much food and supplies. If the spirits are willing, the Hunt will be successful, our tribe will not lose anyone to the seas or to injury, and the warriors will return swiftly.

  Once the boats are set, Natoak, the Matrons, and I ask the spirits to protect each man leaving our shores. This is the part that takes the longest as there is a special ritual presented for each man. Natoak, the Matrons, and I perform the Rite of Safe Passage which is broken into three parts: the Cleansing, the Prayer to the Earthly Spirits, and the Blessing of the Eternal Gods. Each of the warriors from the age of sixteen summers and upward wait their turn for each of the rites.

  The Matrons consist of the seven mothers of each House. These women come from the families in power among each House, Granny being one of them. How the other two Rites are completed and what goes on in each of those huts is a mystery to me and the rest of the village. Only the warriors know of their personal Rite and they do not speak of it to others.

  The Rite I will perform is a mystery to me as well. Our tribe had no previous Wise Woman to teach me the ways of our tribe, so I have to make it up as I go along. Natoak is no help in this regard because he does not know either. Instead, I draw on the Rites I learned through my journey and blend them to make them my own. We will all find out soon enough if my prayer is good enough to appease the earthly spirits into watching over the men of our tribe.

  Each time I perform the Rite, it changes. The words I say are different and the movements I make vary between each warrior who comes into the Sacred Glade for my blessing. I sit on the larger of the two rocks centered within the Glade. There are discarded items laying behind the rock where the warriors cannot see. They will not know that I am refining the Rite as I go along.

  My cousin Aros enters and I give him my best blessing and specially request that the spirits watch after him. I do the same for my father and Uncle who come in shortly after. Merick also gets my special request from the spirits; I know Tala would have a fit if she knew I had not given him one.

  Tarok is the last to enter. While this is customary, I still find it a little uncomfortable. We had not ended our last encounter on the best of terms and I had not seen him since that day at the work house.

  The first thing I notice about him is that he is not nervous like the others. He stands tall and proud with his shoulders set back and his head held high. He walks with purpose and kneels before me until I direct him to sit on the smaller stone. The second thing I notice is his warrior’s reserve is on so tightly that I cannot even pretend to know what is going on behind his dark brown eyes. I wonder what it is like having to keep a straight face like that all day. Chiefs are like the Shamans: one with the tribe, but not really part of it.

  “Are you going to do something?” he asks.

  I jump slightly at the sudden sound of his voice. I cannot keep myself from fidgeting under his weighty gaze. “Uh... yes.” I manage to say.

  I do not know what I am doing. My body moves on its own and the words come into my head. Around the glade there are flowers of different colors in bloom. Natoak once told me that these are the flowers of our ancestors and they are provided to us for luck. They die after the warriors return from the Great Hunt and it has never occurred to me what the reason for that may be. I pluck a white flower from the ground and hold it delicately in the palms of my hands.

  “Hold out your palms, please.” Tarok does as asked and I close his palms over the cupped flower. “Spirits of earth and sea watch over this warrior as you would watch over this flower. I ask that you bring it back to me with him or let it serve as a marker for the place he drew his last breath.” I let go of his hands and look him straight in the eyes. “Bring it back to me when you return from the Hunt.”

  Tarok nods and stands. “Thank you, Wise Woman, for your...” he pauses to gather his words, “for your blessing.”

  “You are welcome, son of Rising Sun House and future Chief of Kurtu’lak.”

  I try not to watch him as he walks in the opposite direction he came. A small part of me – the part that has constant doubts – tells me that this is the last time I will see him. I know it is not true. Tarok has gone on four Hunts and has returned from each one. I reason with myself that I could not get rid of him if I tried. I know he will return. I know he will bring back the flower of our ancestors.

  The following morning as the sun rises, the tribe gathers. There was no celebration last night, only families hoping that their sons, fathers, and bond-mates will return home. We do not ask the spirits or the gods for a whale to feed the village. All we ask before the Hunt is that our tribesmen be returned to us.

  Every farewell in the tribe is nearly the same. Mothers hold onto their sons a little tighter and a little longer. Bond-mates hold onto their loved ones just the same. Fathers kiss each of their little ones and hug them tightly. All of them are hoping that their father, lover, brother comes back. Everyone knows this could be the last time they see their son, father, or bond-mate.

  Despite the fear, there is great pride. Proving one’s worth to the village is the greatest honor a man can have. Among our people, a man who cannot provide for his tribe and his family is a burden to the tribe rather than an asset. When a man can no longer provide for his family, let alone his tribe, he will often walk down the next path of life.

  The men say their final good-byes and stand in a line to be sent off by the Chief. He clasps the forearm of each of the warriors heading out to sea. In the past, he has gone with the warriors on the Hunt. This summer – being Tarok’s twentieth – marks the first summer and Hunt that Chief Narot will begin handing his duties over to Tarok. I can tell he is wishing he were going instead of staying behind. He bids each warrior farewell and then takes his place beside Natoak.

  My eyes find Tarok where he stands straight and stiff. Are you terrified? I cannot see the answer in his guarded eyes. I would be in his situation, but he has prepared for this his entire life. His body is rigid… almost as if he is standing so to keep himself from falling over. The tips of his knuckles are white as he grips his spear – my spear – tightly. My eyes slightly widen in surprise. I would have thought he went back to my father to make a new one… I did not think he would be taking the one I made and shoved at him in anger.

  Our eyes meet. For a second everything is clear. For a mere second I can see the fear lying masked. I can see the tremble of his fingers, the twitch of his eye. Had I been a better friend he would have told me how worried he was. Had he not been so stubborn I would have told him he would be okay. He breaks our contact and signals for the men to get into the boats. Our eyes do not meet again.

  As a village we watch the men of our tribe set off in their boats and paddle into the unknown. The Matrons, Natoak, and I have done all that we can for these warriors. The rest is up to them and to the spirits and gods. When the last of the boats cannot be seen, the tribe disperses from the beach and off to their Houses. Natoak and I are amongst the last remaining. I do not know what we are waiting for, but I will know it when it comes.

  “Have you had any more of those dreams, Moon Child?” Natoak asks when it is just the two of us standing here.

  “No, I have not, Shaman. For that I am thankful. The thought of that dream still sends chills down my spine.”

  “I am glad to
hear nightmares do not plague you.” He rests his hand on my shoulder. “But there is something else that is troubling you, is there not, Akari.”

  I shake my head. “No, Natoak,” I say lapsing into the informal speech of two equals.

  “You have never been very good at lying and even as Wise Woman, you cannot lie to me.”

  Do you want the honest truth or a lie? “These are just confusing times. There is no need to worry about me.” I give him my most convincing smile and hope that it is enough for him to drop the topic.

  “You were away for a long time, Akari. A lot has changed in that time. People have, too. The tribe has accepted your place in it and I will be the first to admit that your welcome home was far better than I expected.”

  “Being the moon child was never easy. But I am glad for their change of heart. I imagine that you worked a lot on the tribe while I was away.”

  “I had lots of time to work with them. Will you ever tell me why your journey lasted four summers?”

  “A journey takes as long as it needs to and never a second longer or lesser.”

  He smiles at me. “Well said, Wise Woman, well said.”

  Natoak and I leave to go our separate ways. My feet lead me off into the Sacred Glade where I lay down beneath the warm sun amidst the flowers of our ancestors as clouds float lazily above my head.

  Chapter Ten