A Hare in the Wilderness

by S E Turner

  A heron was hunting, poised like a statue, ready to take its meal. It didn't flinch when they came into view. It kept still, unmoving, and not once did it take its eyes off the prey. The keen observers waited as patiently as the heron; all they could hear was the sound of their own breathing and the mewing of the buzzard overhead. Suddenly, the heron plunged its long spear of a beak into the water, brought out an impressive size trout and tipping back its head, swallowed the whole fish in one go, so that you could see its writhing body being manoeuvred down a long thin neck.

  'Now that's what you call impressive hunting,' said Ajeya in awe of the skill.

  'An expert hunter, that's what he is. Now where's that rope swing that we put up last year.' He climbed the grassy bank to have a go on their thrill-seeking apparatus. Below him, a clear lake beckoned, its very base lined with a rich golden sediment. Water snakes slithered through the reeds while fish blew out debris from the bed. He took hold of the rope, stood as far back as he was able, and catapulted himself from the highest point to land in the water in a seated position. The water snakes slithered away, and the fish darted to the other side of the pool.

  She laughed at him when he surfaced with a head full of green algae. 'You look like the monster from the deep lagoon.' Her laughter was uncontrollable.

  'Perhaps, I am,' he teased, and raising his arms high above his head, came at her like a walking undead. She screamed at the sight of him, scrambled up the bank and then grabbing hold of the rope, swung herself into the water. Hers was an altogether perfect entry, and barely made a ripple as her body glided through the surface in a streamlined fashion. She swam back to the shore and climbed out nimbly, then sat down and tilted her head back for the warmth of the sun to dry her off. Dainn came and sat down beside her and pawed at the blanket weed that was still stuck to his flaxen hair. He couldn't help look at her loose silk shirt clinging to the contours of her magnificent shape.

  'You truly are a beautiful woman.'

  She turned and looked at him and thought him to be the most beautiful man she had ever seen, with his broad shoulders, muscular chest, strong arms, working hands, and skin tanned after spending hours in the outdoors. And the fine hairs that covered his body had turned golden in the sun. But then she looked at his grimacing face pulling at the green weed stuck to his head. 'Wish I could say the same about you.'

  He looked at her lovingly and leaned in to kiss her. 'I know you don't mean it, and that you love me really.'

  The water had cooled them sufficiently on this hot summer’s day. After a week of unusually high temperatures, it was usual for them to spend most of their afternoons by the lake, listening to the sound of crickets in the long dry grass, and worker honey bees going about their day and watching butterflies weaving through the air, finally settling on vibrant colours fed by the heat of the sun. They looked out over to the pastures where the horses were swishing away nuisance flies with their busy tails and shook their heads every time they raised their necks to take a look at the leaping deer that passed through their domain.

  'This has to be the most peaceful place on earth,' she said drawing in a long deep breath of fresh air.

  'I think so, too,' and he leaned over to kiss the top of her head.

  'I wish we could stay here forever and build a little hut in the forest, just you and me— hunting, trapping and living off the land. To just stay like this, and not have to learn to fight to protect ourselves against the bigger monsters.'

  'It's the way of the kingdoms we are living in.'

  She didn't hear him—she was caught up in the moment. 'Isn't nature wonderful? I wish we could camouflage ourselves like the insects and the animals because everything they do is an illusion to protect themselves.' She looked at the scene around her. 'That butterfly over there with her beautiful painted wings? She has to blend in with the different colours of flowers so she is not eaten, and the cricket has to change colour to camouflage himself in the grass so he is not seized. And the deer in the meadow flash the white of their tails to evoke a sense of size. Everything in nature is an illusion to outwit and outmanoeuvre.'

  'But we don't need those things, we have a much wider range of defences to protect us. Those smaller mammals and reptiles have to rely on another set of skills.'

  She looked at the heron—solitary, still and undoubtedly aware of everything around it. 'I love the summer, everything is full of life and burgeoning with colour. The song of the bird, the hum of the insect, the call of the wild. Then by November, everything changes: The stags fight for supremacy, the stallions kill for their harem, the animals get slaughtered for their meat. Birds have all but disappeared and hibernating creatures will have stuffed their last morsel of food.'

  'Are you all right?' His tone was one of concern.

  'I am just thinking about life. I hope we are safe here. I hope the blood month doesn't bring any monsters to our shores and into our lives.'

  His face couldn't help but hide his surprise. Did she know something? Had he spent too long teaching her how to fight with a sword and train for hours with bows and arrows? No, it could not be. They had always done that for as long as he could remember. But she was the Hare, she was all knowing and could see things before anyone else. 'We will be fine,' he assured her. 'We are so far north that monsters don't even know we are here.' Her words took him back to a carefree time, more than a decade ago, and it made his heart melt. 'Do you remember the time when you told me that fairies lived in the woods?'

  She nodded.

  'Think about the nice things, my love, and the horrors will take care of themselves.'

  She snapped out of her trance and smiled at him. 'Of course, you are right. Keao was always telling me to pretend. Even then he was probably protecting me. But I should be enjoying the summer while it's here, not envisaging the wrath of something that might never happen.' She kissed his face. 'Come on, I'll race you to the glen. We can conceal ourselves in there. You've got a boxing tournament to win in a few months and I've got an archery competition to train for.'

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The sun was shining bright above them and the day was pleasantly warm for early autumn. The long hot summer had disrupted the seasons and even nature was confused. A horse nickered behind them and a buzzard mewed from above. On this fine September morning, Colom had started out by setting a pace that he was accustomed to using when travelling with a large section of the camp. One that would not push the slower members of the clan too hard. The horses were used to this journey every year, though the Marshland Tribe was one of the closest clans, and it made the journey that much easier.

  Wagons rolled along, spewing up debris as they churned up the well-worn path. They were carrying the gifts, trade goods and food for the day. The others carried their skills on them. Dainn and Ajeya trotted along together at the helm followed by Keao and Rufus who were eager to watch the rematch. They stopped by a small river to rest, and they took their breakfast in a large field partially surrounded by trees. Dainn practised his punches with Keao while Ajeya took Rufus into the forest to help with her shooting.

  'He will win today, won't he?' asked the young lad.

  She nocked an arrow to her bow and sent it pulsating through the air. He went running after it and snatched it out of the trunk she had aimed at.

  'I'm sure he will, Rufus. He has been training so much these past twelve months.' She sent him scurrying after another one that had been deployed into a notch in an old oak.

  'He is ready for anything, now, isn't he?' Rufus came back with both arrows.

  'I think he is. I think we both are.' Another quiver hit the acorn out the hands of a bewildered squirrel.

  Rufus laughed. 'You two can take on anything.'

  'Well thank you, Rufus. It would be amazing if we were both wearing a crown by the end of the day.' And she finished off with a quick round of six that were sent into the stub of a tree branch.

  The sun was high when the clan approached a large settlement. It ran al
ongside a wide swift river situated on a broad natural terrace. Travellers emerged from the green of the wood with their banners held aloft, while the wind caught the tails of those floating vessels gliding on the river. Ajeya watched from atop her horse on the crest of the wooded ridge that overlooked the settlement with its mill, houses and stables. The trees were full of golds, crimsons, and browns now, and the few withered flowers that still clung on to the branches did little to obstruct her view. She could see the archery tournament being set up quite clearly, and then her gaze took her to the arena where Dainn would be heading.

  This was the rematch that everyone had been waiting for. The champion Torré and the man that had nearly taken his crown the year before. There was a large crowd around the make-shift arena, all eager to watch and learn but mainly to see if Dainn could take the crown from the three times champion. Last year's winner was heralded into the ring amongst uplifting cheers and a riotous applause. Torre paraded around the roped off circle to the adulation of the crowd. Dainn dived under the rope to shake hands with his opponent.

  'So, you are back then?'

  'Yes, I am.'

  'I hope you've been training and got yourself fit.'

  'I certainly have, Torré, I can't take another beating like last year.'

  Torre smiled. 'Good luck, my friend.'

  'Good luck to you, too, Torré. May the best man win.'

  They retreated to their respective corners and waited for the sound of the drum.

  The fight started and they vied each other, feeling the energies around them and willed the power of the spirits into their veins. Above them, the plumped-up clouds marched across a clear blue sky and seemed to stop every now and then to view the unravelling spectacle.

  An invisible chord held them together as they bobbed and ducked around the perimeter of the ring. It wasn't long before the first move was made, and with a double left as he walked outside his jab, Dainn had the upper ground. But then Torré came back with a right hook over his jab. It caught Dainn unawares and he had to refocus. A moment ticked by, and Dainn leaned his head to avoid the punch back and threw a left uppercut to his opponents exposed body. Torré tried to get another jab in response, but Dainn dipped out of the way.

  They parried and danced around each other, the invisible chord tight, fists raised, light feet barely making any impression on the ground, holding the gaze, not flinching, undeterred, neither giving anything away. But then Torré came in with a right hook against Dainn’s own right cross, and they stood there, locked together, beads of sweat congealing, and then they separated again.

  The crowd swelled and enjoyed the parry, yelling out encouragement to their favourite to win. Dainn raised his concentration levels; he tried to think, he tried to feel. The moves got quicker. Jabbing, hooking, striking as they hopped and skipped round the arena. Each yielding nothing, holding perfect concentration, and the tension grew. Grim faces around the perimeter urged them on. Which one would concede first and lose the fight?

  Torre tried a succession of sweeps, but Dainn blocked with strong arms and protected his head. He responded with a two-fist strike but that was also defended well by Torré. They parried round the ring, and Torré launched with a full arm thrust. Dainn recoiled again and returned with a clean sweep. He caught Torré on the jaw. He staggered back and shook the surprise from his swelling face. Dainn launched in again with the other fist and Torré only just blocked it in time.

  They refocused and eyed each other, dancing and jabbing with continual movements. To them, nothing else was around except the time ticking by. They didn't even notice the excitable voices getting louder and louder, giving advice, making remarks and spurring them on. Torré was still giddy from the knock, but he came back into the game with a swipe that knocked Dainn off balance. The invisible chord was still taut, but Dainn staggered and lost his footing. He took a step back to get his composure and refocus his game. He raised his eyes to Torré, concentrated all his energies on the man's stomach, and struck. His own body remained perfectly still, but the blow landed with such force that Torré was sent sprawling backwards. He stumbled around for a while, trying to find his balance. He was stunned and shaking his head in disbelief.

  Dainn was inspecting his own fist. He hadn't really thought about what he was doing, or how he was going to do it, he had just felt a huge surge of energy and had deployed it. He wasn't aware of the chants urging Torré to get back in the game and wasn't aware of anything apart from the elation he was feeling. He was unaware of his own strength and took his mind off the task. So much so that he wasn't prepared at all when Torré came back at him with a left hand to the body and a right hook to the jaw. Dainn had the wind knocked out of him and with waves of disorientation flowing through his body, he was rendered motionless.

  Time stood still.

  But to the shock of the crowd, he raised his stance again as a rush of exultation fired through his body. His power was growing, and with a surge of strength pumping through his veins, he launched in with a straight lead left. It was fast, it was strong, and it was unpredictable. He didn't hesitate—he knew exactly what to do and where to punch. He gave Torré no time to think, and with that punishing strategy, Torré was sent flying. Last year's champion was knocked out as his head hit the floor. He had to be revived. He sat up dazed and shook his head. Dainn helped him up and embraced him.

  'Hope I didn't hurt you Torré.'

  'Nothing that won't heal. My ego is permanently damaged, though.' He rubbed his jaw and grimaced. 'But thank you for a good fight, Dainn. You are a worthy champion.'

  They shook hands gracefully and Torré ducked out of the ring. Dainn then went on to knock out every other opponent that came into his domain and take the championship. Rufus punched the air in admiration and they both went off to watch Ajeya win her archery competition.

  The leaders had gone in for their yearly talks and it transpired that the General hadn't been heard of for some time.

  'Just as I thought,' Colom said easing a heavy heart. 'We are too far north for the General. It just isn't worth his trouble.'

  'I had thought the same at last year's Gathering,' came another voice from the back. 'There are many miles between us and Ataxata and many zones full of wild animals and hazardous terrain. Only a madman would even attempt the journey.'

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  The horizon was grey on this morning, and overhead, an obscured sun peeked out timidly through low scuttling clouds and tried desperately to brighten an otherwise forlorn day. The wind blew cold and Ajeya could hear the gushing rush of water and the creak of the mill's great wooden waterwheel. There was a smell of rain in the dawn air, but no drops were falling yet. Smoke was rising from the chimneys, indicating another chilly November day. Children's shrill voices could be heard coming from the homes.

  A wagon carrying a crowd of boys was on its way to the fields. She heard Storm, Malik, Durg and Tay, shouting and laughing as it went off. She waved to them, but they were too engrossed feasting their eyes on the pretty girls feeding the chickens and geese. Ajeya smiled as she watched them go, and as she followed their path with her eyes, she could see the rich and fertile land filled with orchards of trees yielding the fruits of autumn. Further on, she could just about make out the tilled fields, many still tawny with the stubble of a late harvest. And adjacent to that, the keen farm workers, already starting their day, driving teams of plough horses or digging up roots and vegetables.

  Jena and Hagen had left even earlier in their wagon that morning. Catching fish at this time of year was always profitable, and a good supply of nutritious vertebrates could be guaranteed. How she loved fresh salmon for dinner and felt the pit of her stomach growl as she anticipated a rich meal that evening. For now, a chunk of bread and a bowl of last night's left-over stew would have to suffice, for in a few hours, she would be out hunting with Dainn for the rest of the day.

  But as the wagon of boys disappeared out of view, there came the roar of horses hooves followed
by a loud thud. An army of soldiers had thundered into the village, overturned a wagon and set fire to it. There were cries and jeers as they upturned more. And then came further devastation as flaming arrows shivered through the morning mists, trailing pale ribbons of fire, and splintered into the wooden huts. A few smashed through shuttered windows, and soon there were thin tendrils of smoke rising between the broken shutters. Ajeya ran forward, and without a second thought, shouldered her bow and snatched her quiver of arrows leaning against the door.

  She could hear fighting from the stables now. Shouts mingled with the screams of stricken horses and the clang of steel as the metal on metal rang out across the settlement.

  She saw Dainn in there, wielding his sword in a desperate fight with an armour-clad guard. She loaded up her weapon and sent an arrow through the burning building and ended the fight for that soldier. Dainn looked up, nodded to her, and got the horses out safely as the old dry wood blazed with a fierce, hungry light. Another man came through on a charger and was swinging an axe in both hands. With his first blow, he smashed one of the struts of the water wheel, with his second and third blows, he demolished even more. The water gushed without the struts, and the power was depleted. But then Dainn came from nowhere and threw himself at the man. The soldier fell to the ground gasping, winded and barely conscious. Dainn knocked him out with one swipe and Ajeya sent another arrow to finish him off.

  She turned on her heels to see a man take an arrow through the chest as he tried to torch the Blessing Tree; she heard him scream as he fell and looked over to see Colom reloading. The smoke was heavy now, and a series of arrows sped back and forth as Peira fed more shafts into the wrath of her husband's bow. Suddenly there was a great rush of bodies, noise, and panic. Those that could ran into the siege to help, while others were barged out of the way by men on horseback as they ran for cover.