by J. H. Hayes
"There were definitely three of them," Hadir went on. "It looks like a young woman and two young men. I'd say twelve winters, maybe thirteen. They all appear to be of fit build, and very fast, especially the girl and one of the boys. Exceptionally fast, I'd say. Ta'araki, come to think of it, this looks like it's-"
"I know who they are, Hadir," Azerban cut him off. He'd humored the boy for long enough, letting him show off in front of his superior. But his acolyte wasn't known for his tracking skills either. "The girl is my daughter and is fourteen winters. Dogahn was no doubt with her. The other boy was probably Tiriz. The three go off hunting and exploring together more and more lately."
"Ahhhh..." Hadir answered, wise enough to know he'd been put in his place. He regretted his fervor in trying to impress his elder. It wasn't the first instance he'd let that particular desire get the better of him. It’d been his downfall his entire life, trying to overcome his shortcomings by impressing others with his great intellect. It never seemed to work for him the way he wished it would. "Sorry, Ta'araki. I guess your daughter will be in a bit of trouble."
"I will take care of this, Hadir."
"Of course, Ta'araki," Hadir answered. "What do you think Ta'araki will do?"
"She’ll be angry and suspect I’m hiding something."
"So you mean not to tell her? But she gave you direct orders to-"
Azerban interrupted him again, more sternly now. "I told you, Hadir. I will take care of this. If Fahim questions you, tell her your tracking skills weren't good enough to discern any other information. She’ll believe you."
"Yes, Ta'araki," Hadir answered, his head hanging in front of him.
Azerban regretted his harshness, but it was necessary. He was sure his acolyte would do as instructed. Hadir had always been loyal to him first. It was part of the reason he liked him so much. He was more worried about his daughter, specifically how he should handle her trespass. It was a grave crime to spy on a Ta'araki gathering. How could she be so stupid? And of all the events Azaria could have chosen, why did she have to choose this particular one? He cursed her silently as they made their way back to the Temple, questions buzzing through his head like pesty water-flies. How should he handle the matter? Should he confront her? And her friends? Or should he pretend he never saw them? What if they told others of what they’d seen? Would they be smart enough to keep quiet? Azerban closed his eyes and shook his head, frustrated and confused. Even as they approached the Great Temple, his mind was swirling with indecision, a disposition he wasn’t use to. One he found he detested. Nevertheless the best path forward remained hidden and all were strewn with hazard.
The three young Natu did indeed follow the wind, each silent as they ran, lost in their own shock. Azaria led the way out of the cedar patch, toward a cliffside that shadowed the river below. Atop the steep cliff lay a trail which led back to Boar Camp. She knew there’d be little cover immediately ahead to hide if any Ta'araki had chosen to follow. But short of running through the high grasses just north, there was nothing to be done of it. Charging through the grasses would make too much noise and only slow them down, increasing the chances someone would catch up with them. And there was no way down to the river from here. They'd just have to run as fast as they could and hope for the best.
She didn't slow to a more moderate pace though, until she was sure the Ta'araki would not catch up. Luckily, the elders weren't known for their stamina or racing abilities. Her calf and thigh muscles ached. She couldn't remember ever keeping up a sprinters pace for so long. She could only imagine how Tiriz must feel, who'd never had any interest in becoming a Runner. She interlocked her hands behind her head and inhaled deeply, hanging her head back as she struggled to control her breathing.
As the three approached their camp, they were met by a small pack of large, black dogs. One of the canines ran straight at Azaria and jumped up to her, resting his gray paws on her shoulders and licking her face with vigor. "Hello Grayfoot!" she greeted him, scratching behind his sizable ears with both hands, happy for a comforting presence. His uncanny knack for arriving at the right moment always surprised her, but never more than now. He hopped down and ran circles around her, stopping only to sniff Dogahn and Tiriz, before jumping on her again. "Down, boy. I'm happy to see you too!" she said, pushing him off. She bent down and stroked the sleek fur along his back. His coat was shear, and his snout long and thin. His slim frame sat high atop lanky, but powerful legs. All four domesticated beasts sported the same athletic build, well-suited for chasing down the vast herds of gazelle that partly drove her ancestors’ nomadism. Only small variations differentiated one from another.
Azaria greeted the three other dogs, scratching the tops of their heads briefly before continuing on, with Grayfoot close on her heels. As they entered a sprawling, lively camp the other canines took off for more appealing interests.
Dogahn gripped her arm before they entered. “Azaria, what was that? What happened back there?”
“I... I don’t know,” she answered. It was the first moment in her life she'd had reason to question who she was - the proud daughter of an influential Ta'araki - and she didn't know quite how to deal with the unfamiliar wave of emotions sweeping over her. She'd always looked up to her father, respected him with great reverence, loved him without condition, delighted in his company and - every once in a while - feared him. Now she was baffled as to what she'd witnessed and distraught her father had been so clearly participating in an act he'd always taught her to be profane - the taking of another's life. Of course there were occasions when killing was considered justifiable - defending one's camp or loved ones - but this didn't seem to be one of those cases. She knew there must be a good explanation for what she'd seen. She just couldn't fathom what it might be. She turned her face away from him, her bottom lip quavering.
Dogahn put his arm around her shoulders and turned her toward him. She looked up into those vivid, hazel eyes so many girls remarked upon and thought she was starting to realize why. "Well," he said gently. "We can't tell anyone what we saw. Let's never mention this to anyone else." She nodded gratefully and Tiriz confirmed the pact without the slightest of objections.
---
Accompanied by Grayfoot, Azaria approached her family’s shelter with trepidation. The walls of the squarish structure were constructed from large bricks consisting of a mixture of wet sand, clay, mud and straw, set out in the sun for a full moon to bake solid.
However impossible she knew it to be, Azaria feared her father would be waiting for her when she entered, the other Ta'araki standing sternly behind him.
She slowly drew back the overlapping leather flaps and was relieved to instead be greeted by her mother. "Azaria! You’re back early? Thank the Mother," Zephia said. "Can you help me with these young ones while I prepare our meal?"
Zephia's sister, Shaledar, had asked her if she'd tend to their young daughter. It was no problem, Zephia had told her, since she already had her youngest. At some point, three other of Quzo's young friends had shown up looking for their favorite playmate. The five had kept themselves entertained until now, but were becoming restless. Shaledar hadn't returned, and Zephia didn't know if the other children’s mothers even knew where they were.
"Yes of course, mother. I just need to wash off first," Azaria replied, grateful her mother was too busy to notice her agitated state. She set her hunting weapons down on a padded wool mat and after a quick walk to the river, sat down to five small children delighted to have her undivided attention. She played a favorite game with them involving small fowl bones and twigs until they tired of it.
"Tell us a story, Azaria," Quzo pleaded, Azaria's bratty but lovable little brother.
"Yes, pleeease!!" said Shaledar's child, Ania, who was slightly older than her young cousin.
Azaria sighed. They always wanted a story. Although she’d bored of the tale long ago, she knew which one would hold their attention longest. "Yes, yes, little ones. Settle down and I will tell the Tale o
f the Watchers." She shifted to a cross-legged position and sat up straight. Swinging her head first left and then snapping it quickly to the right, she removed her long, straight hair from her face. Before beginning, she glanced over at her mother, who’d begun to cough heavily.
"First tell me what you know of the Great Birdmen," she started coyly, still eyeing her mother. The children knew the tale thoroughly - but she needed a moment to gather herself.
"Whoop, whoop," Ania cried out in delight as she flapped her arms. Quzo was quickly imitating her and soon all the children were hopping up and down, making entirely too much noise.
"Okay, okay, I can see the spirit of the Ta'ar has infected you all. Sit down now and listen." As she recited the tale, Azaria stroked the fur on Grayfoot's head and back. The protective animal had settled down next to her, lying on his belly with his snout on his paws, as he so often did.
Azaria started, "When Great-Great-Grandmother was fishing along the shore she was startled by a great flash in the sky. She looked up and was surprised to see a great beast hovering above her where before there’d been nothing. The beast was as beautiful as it was big, with glimmering skin that changed through all the colors of the rainbow. And it sang a beautiful song, like the little birds you like to chase so much, Quzo. That's why those small birds are called hummingbirds, because they sing like Great-Great-Grandmother's beast and have shiny skin like it too." She was rewarded by her little brother's excited grin and continued. "But even though Grandmother thought it was beautiful, she was very scared and threw her fish into the air, hoping the beast would go after the fish and leave her alone." Azaria threw a non-existent fish into the air and the children squealed with laughter.
"But the beast ignored the fish, and instead decided to swoop to the ground in front of her. Then it opened its great mouth and out came a strange man who looked like he was dancing as he walked toward her." Azaria rolled her body left and right to mimic the ancient dance. "Grandmother was frightened and asked 'Who are you.' 'We are friends,' the strange man replied. 'Do not be afraid. For we are here to help you.'" Azaria adopted the low voice typically used when quoting the Watchers.
"'But where did you come from?' asked Grandmother. Okay, who knows where the Watchers came from?" Azaria asked the children and smiled as they all pointed their fingers high into the air and screamed, "From the Vulture Stars!!"
"That's right... from the Vulture!" Azaria laughed again before continuing. "That's why we call them the Birdmen. And because they can fly through the heavens in the bellies of their great beasts. Now Great-Great-Grandfather, who was looking for his mate, happened upon a scene he’d never witnessed before. His mate was standing in front of a great shimmering creature and there was a strange smaller one who seemed to be talking to her. Although he was scared of what he saw, he ran to his mate because he was more scared for her than for himself, like any good mate would be.
"'I am fine.' Great-Great-Grandmother assured him when he ran up with his spear ready. The Birdman introduced himself, 'We are the Ta'ar. We have come here because you are good people and we want to help you.' Grandfather wasn't sure who he was talking about since he saw only one other strange creature, but then he looked toward the great beast and saw others flowing from its mouth. The new visitors made him even more frightened, for he had never seen anything like them and didn't understand why they were coming from the belly of the beast. They talked differently and moved differently. But he invited them in to share a meal, which is the proper thing to do whenever you meet a stranger. The Birdmen didn't want to eat, but said they would be back soon to visit.
"The Watchers came back often and helped with many things, as they promised they would. And Grandmother and Grandfather learned much from them and about them. They could do special things, things we could never dream of. Some could make a spear of light come out of their hands which would melt a whole field of ice. Others had more beasts who couldn't fly but could move mountains and tear down whole forests."
"When will they come back?" Quzo wondered aloud. By the way the children sat in rapt attention, Azaria knew they hoped she’d have a satisfying answer to the ever-recurring question. She didn't blame them - she still often wondered the same thing.
As she contemplated her answer, Azaria noticed her mother had stopped what she was doing and was making for the exit. Her eyes followed her out, but she continued with the answer. "Well... no one knows exactly, but I'm sure it will be soon if you’re all very good."
She’d decided to end the story quickly, skipping over some of the fun parts and finishing with the common conclusion. "The Watchers came back often and taught us to sow, and to quarry and how to build our shelters and the Temples. They delivered us from the ignorance the other peoples still suffer through. Eventually they had to leave, but they told us they’d be watching us and promised to come back. And when they do they’ll be so proud of everything we’ve accomplished."
Some of the children looked disappointed the story had finished so abruptly, but Azaria knew a sure remedy. "Now, who wants a fig?" she asked. It seemed to do the trick, as they all lost interest in the story and ran to where they knew Zephia kept the sugary treats. She instructed them to help themselves to just one since they'd be eating soon.
With the children distracted for the moment and Azaria concerned for her mother, she pushed the leather flaps open enough to allow her slim frame to slide through. Not seeing her anywhere, she took the path that wrapped around the shelters and headed west, in the direction she often found her mother when the sun was setting. She scaled the gentle slope and strolled around a small grove of cedar trees. As she suspected, her mother was at the top of the incline, watching the sun complete its accelerating plunge into the western hills. She noticed a symphony of colors had swept across the western sky, painting the newly formed clouds all shades of red, purple and orange. Is it just me, she thought, or does the sky look angry all of a sudden? No, it often looks that way when the sun is ready to plunge. She couldn't shake the feeling the Ta'ar - those who watched over her people - were offended however. She wondered if it was with the Ta'araki for the act they'd earlier committed or with her for witnessing it.
Azaria called out as she approached, "Hello, mother!"
"Oh hello, beautiful!" Zephia greeted her with a smile. "I almost missed the sunset."
Azaria was hesitant to just blurt out what she really wanted to ask and resolved to delay a bit first. "It’s so beautiful. Why do these sunsets always make me emotional?"
"Your emotions have always dwelled close to the surface," Zephia answered. "But yes, I feel it too."
"Are you okay, mother?"
"Of course, child!" Her mother's response was quick and pointed. "Why do you ask?"
"Your cough. It seems worse than before," Azaria answered.
"Oh Azaria, it’s nothing. Just a little cold. But I should get back to my cooking and you should return to the children – who, I suspect - you left unattended with the figs," Zephia teased as she turned back toward the camp.
Azaria took a couple quick steps to catch up as she defensively replied, "I told them to take only one."
"Child, you have a lot to learn about hungry children," Zephia mocked.
As they approached their shelter, the children were stampeding out, figs in hand as well as in their mouths. "Hey, where do you think you're all off to?" Zephia demanded.
"We're gonna see wha' Ilzan an’ Sekhi aw doin'," answered Quzo, his mouth full of fig.
"Well stay close, Quzo. The food will be ready soon," Zephia commanded.
"Okay, I'll," he mumbled as they fled into the dense cluster of shelters that made up the heart of Boar Camp.
Back inside, Azaria helped her mother cut shallots, carrots and other wild vegetables with a flint cooking knife, a specialized instrument fashioned by an expert shaper. It had to be strong enough to cut cleanly through a variety of fruit and vegetables and thin enough so as not to mash them. The flint blade was about as long as Azaria'
s index finger and embedded into the upper half of a bone handle and fastened tight with animal sinew.
"Have you picked your outfit for the Summer Solstice Feast?" Zephia asked as they worked.
"I think so..." Azaria replied. "I thought I would wear the gazelle skin dress with the ivory beads." The fact that Azaria had more than one option to choose from hinted at the high status of her hearth and by association, her entire camp. It showed they were not short on resources and had the capacity to fashion non-essential items. "What do you think?" she asked.
"I think that's a good choice," replied her mother, not surprised. She knew it was her daughter’s favorite outfit. She thought Azaria looked lovely in it, and it allowed her to run about with her friends, although they were doing less of that at the gatherings lately. "After our meal I'll help you refit it. You've only grown since you wore it last. We should remend the hems. I noticed it took quite a beating from when you wore it last."
Her eyes widening, Azaria cocked her head to cast her mother a glance that read, ‘Do you not miss anything about my affairs?’ But instead of protesting, she replied with a grin, "I would love that."
When her father later entered Azaria kept her head down, avoiding his eyes. She feared he would immediately begin questioning her, but was relieved he appeared not to suspect her at all. He asked only how her hunt had gone and seemed satisfied with her short explanation that they hadn’t caught anything. As they gathered around the hearth to enjoy a simple meal of boar meat, fresh greens and vegetables, she stole quick, nervous glances at him, hoping to determine his intentions.
"This is delicious!" exclaimed Azerban upon his first taste. "I'm sorry I couldn't help you prepare it, but you two have outdone yourselves. Perhaps we’d eat better if I always stayed away from the cooking." He ended his favored taunt with his big, boisterous laugh.
"You're too humble, father," Azaria responded. "The liver is from the boar you took down."