Azaria

  The spear struck the giant male as it was turning toward her, plunging into the soft part above the breast bone. It was thrown with such force that it almost completely burrowed into the aurochs frame. Only the back tip of her spear was visible.

  It fell brutally.

  Mass confusion ensued inside the canyon.

  The majority of the ambushers had managed to scale the canyon side, looking down on the beasts caught in the enclosure, sending a flurry of light-spears into the midst of the circle of carnage. Some of the more experienced hunters aimed for a particular beast, still hoping for a direct kill. Others were launching wildly, just hoping to hit something not yet dead. Spears struck across the gorge floor, landing all around Yumineh. Aurochs were dropping like heavy rain. Blood pooled on the valley dirt.

  But Yumineh had no sense of the danger. Hunters never charged this deep into the melee, but stopped at the outskirts where it was relatively safer and picked the poor beasts off one by one.

  Yumineh saw a confused heifer, turning circles, not sure which way to run, death all around it. She grasped another replacement spear from her quiver and let the primary fly. "'Zaria!" she screamed again.

  Once more her weapon plunged deep into the fleshy part of the neck, and the aurochs' legs crumpled beneath it.

  Another male aurochs was charging straight for her.

  Yumineh ran at it like a falling star diving toward the earth.

  Only paces from the beast, which was many times larger than her, Yumineh planted hard with her left foot and dodged to the right. With a line of sight opened to the bull’s throat, she swung her arm violently forward, sending her spear directly at it. "'Zaria!" she howled a third time and reached back for another replacement.

  But it was unneeded.

  The spear in flight plunged deep into the beast's throat and it fell.

  In front of her, Yumineh saw no other aurochs standing. She spun around to find another kill, but there were none left. They were all downed. In frustration, she threw her spear into the ground and roared at the top of her lungs. She was still enraged, but had no target left to direct her fury. She briefly thought about chasing the fleeing herd down, but when she turned she found it was long gone.

  The muscle inside her chest pounded, but she didn't feel it.

  She was caught inside a moment of pure emotion. The super-charged mental state that had erupted within her was fueled by extreme amounts of adrenaline that saturated and overwhelmed her physical senses. She couldn't feel anything. Her only focus was on beating her treacherous rival - of preventing Azaria from stealing her glory. Only her sight remained and it was amplified by her distressed state. It would take a moment before she would come out of it.

  Some of the hunters approached, to congratulate her on her kills, but she didn't hear their words or recognize their signals. Most had seen her dazzling, crazed display, but it wouldn't be until later that she would truly realize what she'd just done.

  Yumineh lifted her mouth to the sky, letting her frustrations explode from her chest again. A deep, hoarse roar erupted and spread over the rolling hills. Her scream resonated inside the valley and echoed back, multiplying in volume and intensity.

  The hunters surrounding her stared with wide, disbelieving eyes.

  No one had ever witnessed anything like it before. No one had ever charged into the chaotic center of the slaughter. The young woman was covered in splattered aurochs blood and grimy, wet soil. She held a spear above her head as she howled her battle cry. To them it appeared the Great Earth Mother had risen up from the dirt beneath them and entered the body of the toned, bronzed young woman. She didn't look like one of them. She was a walking, living goddess.

  Yumineh was not the first to let her voice soar after a victory. It was a common practice. However this was more than a celebration of success. It was an explosion of frustration and pent-up despair.

  But those watching her heard something else. It was a warning to all the beasts in the lands. We might be smaller than you, but we are the dominant force here! And it was a warning to the neighboring peoples. We can defend ourselves. Do not test us!

  Luzon was the first to join in. He craned his head back and opened his lungs, holding a spear above his head in imitation of the possessed Fox Camp girl. Another of the young warriors joined in and then two more. Dogahn joined. Then Azerban, followed quickly by Irizahner. Soon the entire band of Natu hunters was roaring at the top of their lungs in celebration of their success. The echoing, accumulated thunder swept over the hills. Even the largest, most deadly of the beasts within the vicinity - the cave lions - cowered at the bedeviling uproar.

  Yumineh stopped first, slowly bringing her head down to find the scene confounding. Her other senses were returning. What was everyone doing? Why were they screaming? Her throat felt raw. Had she been screaming too?

  One by one the other hunters ceased their howls and returned their gaze to her, waiting to see what she'd do next. Was she still the goddess? Or had the young woman returned? Yumineh stared back at them with blank expression. She wondered why they stared at her. Did I do something wrong? Did I stop screaming too early? She turned to find the elders for direction and met Azerban's eyes.

  He saw the questioning look in the young girl's gaze and recognized that the Mother had departed. The young Fox Camp girl had returned. He approached and held out his arms. She fell into them. "That was amazing, Yumineh! I've never seen anything like it..."

  "What?" Yumineh sobbed. She didn't know what he was talking about.

  "You are extraordinary!" he repeated.

  Some of the elder hunters had begun to examine the carcasses. "Four kills!" one of them yelled. "She had four direct kills!!"

  The other hunters were inching toward them, the elders approaching first. Azerban braced her, making sure she was set on her own feet before letting go. "Four kills!" one of them repeated, putting his hand on her shoulder to acknowledge her.

  "Amazing!" another said, taking her triceps within his hand and gently shaking.

  "I've never heard of anything like it," a third, elder hunter remarked.

  Yumineh didn't know what they were talking about. Four kills? She didn't remember killing anything. Were they saying she somehow had four direct kills? That was ridiculous. A hunter hoped for one per hunt. Two was considered an impressive feat. She had only heard of long-dead hunters who had three in one hunt. But four? It didn't seem possible. There were over a hundred participating hunters and they only hoped for thirty to forty heads. The chances of getting one was less than half. That was why those young men and women attempting to prove themselves true hunters were given the most desirable assignments with the stampeders. Only they were close enough to have a good chance of bringing down an aurochs with one spear.

  Yumineh closed her eyes and saw a beast fall to the ground, blood gushing from its neck. As it slid, the horns came straight for her. She leapt out of the way. While she was still in the air, she looked down and saw her spear sticking out of the poor beast. Yes! I did kill that animal, she realized. She saw another vision of her spear plunging deep into the neck of a female. Slowly, her actions were coming back to her. The fog was dispersing. As she remembered each scene, her back straightened. She held herself up proudly, realizing what they were saying was true. She inhaled deeply through her nostrils and cast the warm air from her lips. I did kill all four of those beasts!

  Daneel was racing down the canyon’s side, screaming at the top of her lungs. "Yumineh! Yumineh! You were magnificent!!" She was so happy for her troubled friend, tears filled her eyes. She leapt into Yumineh's arms, nearly knocking her over.

  "Daneel, did you see it? Did you see me?" Yumineh asked.

  "Yes! Yes! And you were wonderful!"

  I did it! I finally did it, she told herself. I've finally beaten her. I've proven myself. I've beaten Azaria. Now everyone will know the truth. They will see her for the fraud she is. They'll know it was me who truly deserved to win the Long Race. Dogahn
will forget about her. He'll realize it's me he truly loves.

  As if she had willed him to her, Dogahn approached and took her in his arms. He kissed her on the forehead. "Yumineh. That was incredible! You are amazing!"

  She looked deeply into his eyes and smiled. She couldn't remember ever being so happy. All her planning and scheming had been unnecessary. She just needed to prove herself. That's all it took. She felt a hand gently grip her arm and turned to face its owner.

  "Yumineh! I'm so happy for you. You were unbelievable!" Azaria said.

  Yumineh looked at her rival, her jealousy and hatred now displaced by pity. She took her in her arms and held her for a moment. "Thanks," she whispered. I know it will be hard for you, she silently told Azaria. It will hurt so much. I know how much. But he wasn't meant for you. He loves me. You're a beautiful girl, with a lot of status and a lot of talent. It won't be hard for you to find a good man.

  ---

  Immediately the hunters began to skin and quarter the meat, planting the hearts within the ground in gratitude to the Mother. After the corrallers had claimed their share, anyone who had been granted a direct kill was able to do with their carcass as they chose, except for a significant portion of the meat which was expected to be handed over to the community. Some would be given to those who had stayed behind. Some would also be set aside for the winter stores. The best organs and furs were saved for themselves, but since so much work was involved in quartering the carcasses, they often shared some of the kill with those who assisted. Those with shared kills were also expected to contribute to the community supply. The rest they divided between themselves. Serious disputes were rare, but it wasn't unusual for the administering Ta'araki to have to mitigate an argument or two. Azerban made sure no one participating in the hunt would return empty-handed.

  Despite the prodigious task in front of her, Yumineh had more than enough offers of help. Most of the volunteers didn't even want anything in return. It seemed they just wanted to be near her, to introduce themselves or to talk to her. Her actions had instantly transformed her into the most desired female in all the three camps, at least among the present hunters. She was quickly becoming a living legend and while the hunters worked, the stories of her feats were being told over and again. With each hunter’s retelling of what they’d witnessed, new insights were gained. The beginnings of an epic tale were forming and those with musical ability were already composing their songs.

  Yumineh generously donated all the meat from two of her kills to the community, a bequest that served to further raise her exploding status. The truth was she had no use for the meat anyway. She was alone with only an aunt left in Fox Camp. Even one aurochs would be too much for them. She would eventually trade away much of the two she had left. Many of her volunteers offered to help her carry her remaining prizes back.

  Azaria and Dogahn were busy carving up their own carcasses. Azaria had her own direct kill to deal with, and Dogahn had two, an accomplishment that would have brought more acclaim had Yumineh's feat not far surpassed it. But he didn't mind. He liked Yumineh. She'd had a hard life, and he was happy for her success. Tiriz had also made a direct kill and Luzon matched Dogahn's two. He'd made his first direct kill early, at the age of twelve, a feat which had also attracted no small amount of attention. He was proud of his two kills, but was hoping for three. For Azaria, Dogahn and Tiriz however, their kills proved their abilities, marking a distinct change for them among the Natu. They were now Hunters and with the title came heightened status, although Azaria already had more than she cared for.

  Since Yumineh had more than enough assistance, Daneel offered to help them.

  "So you didn't kill anything, Daneel?" Dogahn teased.

  "No," she laughed. Killing an aurochs was the furthest thing from her mind.

  "You didn't even hit anything?" Azaria asked in exasperation. She didn't understand how Daneel could be so incompetent.

  "Nope! But I did throw one spear..."

  "Well that's an achievement!" Dogahn exclaimed. "And what poor soul did that noble spear hit?"

  "The soul of a big rock!" Daneel laughed.

  Azaria looked at her, shaking her head in disbelief.

  Daneel, seeing the expression, replied defensively, "What?? I was too busy watching Yumineh. I was transfixed!"

  "Trans-what?" Dogahn asked. Daneel was often using strange words that her trader father brought from distant lands.

  "Transfixed! Paralyzed by Yumineh's awesomeness!"

  "She means she couldn't get another spear out of her quiver," Azaria explained.

  Daneel laughed again. "Yeah, and that too..."

  Azaria stood straight and faced her, wondering how she could laugh off her ineptitude so easily. She was about to scold her on it when she noticed two scouts who weren’t of their party running straight for her. They could’ve been making for anyone, but somehow Azaria knew they were coming for her.

  Indeed, the first man stopped directly in front of her. "You and your father must return quickly, Bird-Runner," he said.

  The moniker annoyed her, but she ignored it. The runner's directive disturbed her far more. "Why is that, runner?" she asked.

  "It is Ta'araki's mate," he replied. "Your mother is near death."

  8

  Azaria tore away from the messenger, sprinting to her father. She found him with some women quartering a carcass and informed him of the runner's message. After hearing it, they started out at a fast clip for Boar Camp, leaving all of their bounty, weapons and belongings with others.

  Azerban had little trouble keeping up with his daughter. His motivation was great, but Azaria also ran at less than full-gait, so as not to outpace him. They ran silently, saving their energy. With the sun nearly down, the thatched roofs of the mud-brick shelters of Boar Camp finally came into view. They burst into their shelter to find Fahim sitting vigilantly at Zephia's side.

  "Shhh!" the Ta’araki matron commanded with a single finger to her lips. "She is asleep."

  "How is she?" Azerban asked.

  "What happened?" Azaria demanded.

  "She relapsed," Fahim answered. "Her cough became very severe and she started spitting up blood. She could barely mouth a word. I have kept her sedated since. It is very painful for her when she's awake and racked by her cough."

  Azaria looked to her father and saw him nod at Fahim's words. "Are there any other treatments we could try?" he asked. "Do you know of anything else?"

  "There are other remedies, but nothing as powerful as the Sugarroot," she answered, referring to the main ingredient in the solution she’d given to Azaria when she journeyed to the Great Temple.

  Azerban looked down upon his sleeping mate, taking her cheek in his palm. Her skin was pale and had a chalky appearance. She’d lost so much weight over the summer, he barely recognized the gaunt face within his hand. Her hair was much grayer than he remembered and there seemed to be less of it. She looked nothing like the woman he’d mated. The realization came like a sudden blow to the chest and he broke down. "Zephia," he sobbed, falling to his knees, "you must come back to me. You can't leave me now."

  Azaria, seeing her father losing hope, broke into tears also and threw her arms around his neck. Neither of them had noticed the scared, young boy sitting silently in the corner, with his arms wrapped around his knees. When he saw his father break, the boy couldn't stop his own flood of tears.

  "Quzo!" Azerban gently commanded, "Come here, boy." His son needed no prodding and came obediently. Azerban pulled him in with his powerful arm and the three remained huddled for a long moment, weeping together.

  Fahim allowed them their space before interrupting. "She has not eaten since this morning. I think we can wake her and see if she'll take some broth."

  The suggestion seemed to help Azerban pull himself together. "That is a good idea... Azaria, can you prepare some broth?"

  "Yes, father, of course."

  "No meat, Azaria," Fahim instructed. "No salt. It will only irritate
her lungs and strain her heart. Let me know when the water is boiling. I will add some ingredients to help with the bleeding."

  Azaria nodded her understanding and Fahim left her to her task. "Azerban, will you walk with me? I would speak with you."

  The two left Quzo at his mother's side, his face still wet.

  "As you know," Fahim began, once they were far enough away to engage in delicate conversation, "we were to have our meeting tomorrow night to prepare for the ritual. I have asked the other Ta'araki to postpone it for two nights, however. I felt it appropriate given the circumstances." She motioned with her head toward his shelter.

  "Thank you, Ta'araki. I appreciate your patience," Azerban replied.

  "Everyone will understand if you feel you cannot participate, Azerban. You do not have to come." Her tone sounded almost hopeful, as if she was encouraging him to opt out, but in his grief he didn't detect it.

  "No, Ta'araki. I appreciate your concern. But I will be there. Our responsibilities must be met, no matter the circumstances."

  "Very well," she sighed.

  "Ta'araki!" Azaria came running up. "The water is set to boil."

  "Very good, dear. I will be right there." She watched the young woman turn around and run back to her shelter. "The runners came just before you with rumors of the orphan girls' feats. So are they true?"

  "Completely. But I won't fault you even if you never believe it. Had I not seen her myself, I would never believe it - no matter whose lips the words sprang from."

  "Interesting..." she said before falling silent.

  When they returned, Fahim passed dried rosemary underneath Zephia's nose and several moments later she woke. Seeing the return of her mate and beloved daughter, she opened her mouth to greet them, but the inward breath instigated a violent fit of coughing. As Ta'araki had warned, she was soon hacking up a disturbing mixture of blood and mucus. Between spasms, Zephia was able to take a few sips of tea and the convulsions subsided long enough for her to swallow a good portion of broth. The coughing returned soon thereafter however, and Azerban asked Fahim to sedate her again, unable to watch his mate so tormented. In the span of her wakefulness, she was unable to utter even a single word, expressing her thoughts only by the look in her eyes. Azerban wondered if he'd ever hear his mate's beautiful voice again.