by Sean Golden
“I did,” he said. “Your shot would have killed it, but it would have run a long way before dying.”
“How do you know that?” Mayrie asked with a hint of fury in her voice. “You shot at the same time I did!” Her hair flashed in the sun as she turned her head back to the doe. “You don’t know whose arrow killed it! It might have been mine.”
Lirak said nothing for a moment, watching as Mayrie’s flash of anger slowly subsided from blazing fire to a brooding ember. “It was a good shot Mayrie. It was a killing shot, but you hit the lung, not the heart. And it’s a lot of work to track a lung-shot deer.” And you don’t need to see all that pain and suffering on your first kill, he thought.
Patrik appeared from behind them, his stone knife drawn, and he kneeled down beside the deer.
“Did you see what he did?” Mayrie asked Patrik.
“Oh yes, he’s done stuff like that to me too.” Patrik smiled.
Mayrie’s breathing slowed and returned to normal, but her lips stayed set in a thin line and her jaws clenched. “Show me,” she said.
Lirak nodded, and he and Patrik began the bloody task of dressing the deer. As they worked up into the chest, Lirak called Mayrie forward and showed her each arrow, hers buried deep in the lung, and Lirak’s straight through the heart.
“How could you know?” Mayrie asked, her anger receding like the swollen Fedon River after a spring thunderstorm. “You couldn’t have known.”
“Trust me, he knew,” Patrik said. “I’m glad he did, because I promise you, the least fun thing about hunting is tracking down wounded prey.”
“Mayrie, your shot was good,” Lirak said. “It was a killing shot. It was as good as many I have made, or Jerok or Gawn. As Patrik said, I wanted to be sure it didn’t run.”
Lirak and Patrik stood, each with blood covering their arms up to the elbow. Patrik held the deer’s heart and liver, and Lirak reached down and hefted the cleaned carcass on his shoulders. “OK, time to head back,” he said.
Mayrie walked up to Lirak, her face inches from his. The anger was gone, but it had been replaced by a look of puzzlement. She reached forward and touched the rapidly cooling head of the doe. “Do you truly mean my arrow was good?”
“It was a fine shot, one to be proud of,” Lirak said. “The kill is yours Mayrie; my arrow just saved us the task of chasing it down.”
Mayrie touched Lirak’s cheek. “OK, I believe you.” Her eyes relaxed and the smile returned.
Lirak relaxed, just then realizing that his whole body had been tense. Releasing the deer’s front legs for just a moment, he reached forward and with his thumb smeared the doe’s blood across Mayrie’s forehead, and then he returned his hand to the deer. “There, now you’re a hunter,” he said. Mayrie’s smile grew bigger, and she impulsively hugged Lirak, her arms and dress getting smeared with the blood of the doe. Lirak wondered what Tarii would think of her friend if she could see Mayrie now, and hoped Mayrie didn’t get in trouble. This feels so… right, he thought, and he wondered if he would have hugged her back if his hands had not been holding the heavy deer on his back and shoulders. He felt the familiar barrier slam shut in his mind, but he did not move away. She deserves a better life he thought, a sense of loss and sadness filling his heart while his body soaked in her warmth and comfort.
Mayrie stepped back almost shyly, while Patrik tried to whistle nonchalantly through his wicked grin.
“Thank you Lirak,” Mayrie said. “Wait until I tell Tarii that I am a hunter!”
Lirak smiled. “I’m not sure she’ll like to hear that.”
Mayrie giggled, then seemed to notice for the first time the blood and caked soil on her arms and clothes. “Oh!” she said. “I’m a mess!” but her beaming, blood and dirt-streaked face had never looked more beautiful to Lirak.
Later that afternoon, as the sun was sinking behind the far mountains, Lirak saw several of the village’s young women also moving around. The memory of their dancing the night before almost made him blush, and when he saw Mayrie’s bright red hair across the village green, his pulse quickened. Mayrie had cleaned up and changed, and walked with Tarii as she usually did, and the two were talking low, their heads leaning toward each other and giggling. Tarii’s blonde hair shone in the sun, and beside Mayrie she looked tall and thin. Lirak watched as Mayrie pantomimed the shooting of the doe and Tarii shook her head in consternation. Then Tarii giggled at something Mayrie said, and then her eyes flew wide in mock horror, and she slapped Mayrie’s shoulder as if to say, “Stop it!” Mayrie’s red hair danced as she laughed.
“Stop staring at that girl.” Soonya said, but a playful smile was on her lips as she put her hand on Lirak’s shoulder. Anyone could see that Soonya and Lirak were mother and son. Jerok was just as surely his father’s son. Soonya herself was a rare thing in the village; Lirak knew she had not been born in Luh-Yi. She had appeared one day with Lirak’s father Vorik as he returned from faraway lands. The two had met and had fallen in love, with Soonya leaving her home to come back with Vorik. Lirak never learned why his father had been so far from home as a young man, and Vorik had disappeared one day soon after Lirak’s dreams had begun. Soonya rarely answered questions about him. Soonya had remained with her two sons, had raised them in the Dwon ways, and rarely talked of her previous life or her missing husband. Only her brown skin, piercing gray eyes and flowing mane of jet-black hair now marked her as different from the other Dwon villagers.
Soonya leaned over and whispered to Lirak “She is the wood-nymph, you are the eagle. Remember the story?”
Soonya told Lirak and Jerok many stories of the “other world” as she called her past home. Lirak didn’t really believe many of them, they were tales of magical beasts, mysterious beings and powerful kings. One story had been of an eagle that fell in love with a wood nymph, and the comical escapades that followed as the nymph played games with the smitten eagle.
“She’s no nymph, and I’m no eagle.” Lirak paused for a moment. “She’s so different from the other girls. She’s learned to hunt, you know. She’s really very good with a bow; better than many of the men. Better by far than Toldek.”
Soonya’s smile turned into a tiny frown. She started to say something, then stopped and simply patted Lirak on the shoulder. “Yes, she is a beauty too, and just your age. Why don’t you two spend time together like you used to? I was glad you spent time with her today.”
Lirak sighed, “I don’t know what to do, Mother. I see how the others look at me. Some of them are frightened, others are angry and believe I bring bad luck. The test the elders speak of is frightening and I don’t know if I will come back. I want to be with her, but it’s not that simple. And Jerok doesn’t like it.”
Lirak sighed deeply and looked up at the sky. “It’s not fair to Mayrie,” he said. “It used to be fun to think that my dreams were messages from the gods, and that I was special.” Soonya stopped what she was doing and looked at Lirak. “Sometimes I think Sampt and the others are right to shun me and call me ‘bad luck’.” Lirak drew an arc in the dirt with the toe of his moccasin. “I just don’t want to lead her on. I don’t know what will happen in the future, but more and more I don’t see a long life shaping stone and playing with grandchildren.” Lirak’s eyes misted over as he spoke. “Mayrie can have that future, she deserves that future. I shouldn’t take it away from her.”
“I know she still likes you and misses you.” Soonya’s voice sounded suddenly distant as if her mind was far away. “Lirak, you can’t let what the others think control your life. Think about what you and Mayrie want. Life is short and nobody knows the weave of Faydah’s web. Not even the elders. Happiness in the future is never guaranteed, so you should take what happiness you can in the present. Just be honest with her and let her make her own choices.” With that, Soonya turned and left Lirak behind.
Lirak leaned against the cleared off table and looked down at his feet, feeling the last rays of the sun on his cheek as the sunlight filtered thr
ough the thinning limbs high up on the redwoods to the west. He smelled the freshness of the forest air through the fading smoke of the bonfire. He looked at the bonfire and had a mental image flash through his mind of his own Ko’Dimen next year, with Mayrie smiling and dancing with him. Then he shook his head and remembered what Kodul had told him, and the vision of his Ko’Dimen faded away. There would be no such dance for him, he feared. He was full of doubt he would return at all.
White Beast
Kathoias is she who guards and guides the forest and all that dwell within it. Her way is the way of tooth and claw. The strong, the quick and the cunning are her champions. She chose the Dwon as her people. So long as Kathoias endures, the forest will endure. So long as the forest endures, the Dwon will endure.
– Dwon oral tradition
Lirak made his way through the towering giant redwoods, heading deep into the forest to hunt. The festival had depleted the village’s meat stores. Jerok, Gawn and the other hunters would come back with their share, of course, but the village was large and there was a need to begin salting and drying meat for winter. Not as if I need an excuse to hunt he thought with a smile.
Soft light filtered through the towering forest canopy with rare bright sunbeams piercing the dimness. Clouds of humming mayflies swarmed the tops of small bushes, their lacy wings sometimes splintering the light into eddies of shining, swirling motes. The air was full of the sweet smell of honeysuckle and blackberries. Almost without thinking Lirak plucked a handful of juicy blackberries, ignoring the deep purple stains on his fingers. Pausing for a moment he popped the berries into his mouth, biting down to send a wave of tart sweetness over his tongue and down his throat. His skin tingled in anticipation of the encroaching chill of autumn as a cool breeze ruffled his dark flowing hair. A deep sigh escaped his lips as he closed his eyes and allowed his mind and body to absorb the delicately changing forest aura. Summer was fading into autumn, and Lirak’s senses were filled with subtle changes on the wind. For a moment he was fully at peace with the forest, and with himself.
A faint rustling sound to his left caught his attention. His mind instantly snapped into focus as he recognized the sound of deer grazing. Moving forward in a deep crouch, he carefully placed his toes on the ground first, before settling his weight on his foot to ensure he would feel any twig or dry leaf that he touched through his moccasins well before they would crack or rattle. As he neared the sound, he crouched lower until he was crawling forward on his hands and knees. Then lying on his belly he peered around the trunk of a pine tree to see a buck and three doe. But the moment wasn’t right. As happened so many times when he hunted, something in his mind whispered wait, so he waited, as still as a fallen log. As the deer grazed contentedly on the forest undergrowth, he lay unmoving for several moments. A green beetle crawled across his arm pausing several times to open its shiny wing casing and unfurl its colorful wings, only to roll them back up and cover them again. Finally the deer moved to his right, still unaware of Lirak’s presence, moving out of the small glade and into the forest, but still Lirak didn’t move. He would not move until something happened, or his mind no longer whispered “wait.”
The deer vanished into the forest, soon lost to Lirak’s ears. A line of ants crossed the trail, each carrying a small bit of leaf back to their nest. Still he didn’t move. Overhead a raven’s throaty “caw!” filtered through the high branches as a bead of sweat trickled down his forehead. Then something moved beyond the bushes, something taller than a deer, something white and four-legged. It comes, said the tickle in his mind. Then the something moved out from behind the bushes slowly, looking all around, its great white head swiveling on the end of a long, thick triangular neck while its nostrils flared with powerful breaths. Lirak was entranced. This was nothing he had ever seen before, but somehow, something moved in his memory from his mother’s trove of stories filled with fantastic creatures.
The creature vaguely resembled a goat, but was majestic and beautiful. A great single fluted horn grew from the center of the beast’s forehead. The horn was as straight as any arrow Lirak had ever seen, was as long as his arm, and was tapered gently from a base about as thick as his wrist, to a sharp point. Mighty shoulders held up that massive triangular neck. With a toss of its head, it snorted loudly and long hair flew up and settled down again, spilling over the back of the neck and over the shoulder nearest Lirak. It took another step forward, its head and neck finding a shaft of sunlight, sending a swarm of midges angrily buzzing away. Again it shook its head and snorted, and the hair caught the light of the sun so brightly that Lirak shut his eyes briefly.
When he opened them, the great beast had stepped fully into the open; its shoulders and back now in the shaft of light. So bright was its whiteness that the entire clearing was lit as if a white fire had been set in its midst. Lirak thought his head would just reach the top of the back of the beast at the shoulder, and that it could easily swing its head on that great neck over Lirak without touching him. A tuft of the impossibly white hair hung down from below its lower lip. Its tail was serpentine, with a thick bunch of hair at the very end. This it whipped around its side and legs frequently, perhaps warding off stinging flies or mosquitoes. Its legs were thick and powerful above the knee, but thin and graceful below the knee, ending with thick flowing hair at the ankles and a large cloven hoof. Lirak saw no sign of the beast’s gender. It gave off a powerful aura of strength and confidence. A scent came to Lirak’s nostrils, at once earthy and fresh, like the forest after a summer rain.
As Lirak lay on the soft earth, the great horned head turned and the beast stared directly at him. His breath caught in his throat as his vision suddenly faded and he found himself floating in a formless gray void. Time itself went strange and Lirak could not say if it were moments or days before he saw a dim light in front of him. Staring intently as the vision solidified, Lirak saw a man in tattered rags sitting on a rough bed, the only light a dim glow filtering through bars in a small square window.
Something about the man was familiar, but Lirak couldn’t put his finger on it. His hair was brown, and though his once large frame had shriveled in captivity, he yet radiated unusual strength. Jerok. He looks like Jerok. The man suddenly started, and then looked up and stared in Lirak’s direction, his eyes casting about. “Who’s there?” he said, speaking in the language of the Dwon. Lirak tried to reply, but he could not speak. “Your mind plays tricks again, old man,” he heard the other say to himself. “Nobody is there, nobody is coming.” And with that the grayness faded to black.
Lirak came to his senses again, lying on the soft forest floor. The beast was gone. Lirak waited a few moments more, unsure what to do. He was unsure he had even seen what he thought he had. After a moment, he sat up with his back against the tree, facing away from the spot the white beast had stood. In front of him he heard the faint sound of familiar footsteps. Jerok, Toldek and Gawn were coming. For some reason he didn’t want to see them, so he quickly slipped behind the tree and sat with his back against it. Soon the three hunters came up almost the exact path he had come. Jerok suddenly shushed quietly and they stopped.
“Look, see, I told you, footprints.” It was Jerok’s voice.
“And I told you footprints are all over the forest here, we’re not that far from the village.” Gawn’s booming voice carried a tone of bemused good humor.
“These are fresh, and familiar. Lirak, I think. This is the way he stalks,” Jerok said, “See how the toe leads the heel? How the feet are in one line?” Jerok chuckled “Only Lirak stalks like that.”
“Maybe you should try it yourself,” Gawn said. “I’ve watched Lirak hunt, he’s like a ghost. I once watched him walk up to a deer and slap it on the butt, just for fun. Have you ever tried that?”
“What a waste,” Toldek said.
Knowing the three would find him now; Lirak rose up and walked out from behind the tree.
“Hi,” he said. “Where’s the rest of the gang?”
&
nbsp; Jerok looked at him suspiciously, but simply said, “We split up, are you hunting too?”
“No, not anymore.” Lirak didn’t know what to say about the strange beast.
“Do you need help bringing back anything to be smoked?” Jerok asked.
Toldek broke off a branch from a sweetgum tree and lounged against a nearby oak tree, gnawing on it.
Lirak shook his head. “No. but…” he paused.
“What?” Gawn asked. “Are you well Lirak? You look a little pale.”
“No, I’m fine. But come here, I want you to look at some tracks.” Lirak led them over to where the white animal had stood. He pointed at the marks of the cloven hooves in the ground. “What do you make of that?”
Jerok crouched down and studied them. He put his hand next to one for measurement. He found one of the deeper marks, feeling how far down into the soil it had been pressed. “Hmm… big animal. Not a deer, maybe an elk. But bigger than any I’ve seen. Did you see it?” he looked at Lirak.
Lirak nodded, but said nothing. Toldek casually walked by, but as he attempted to bump Lirak, Lirak eased out of the way and Toldek cursed as he stumbled. Gawn laughed, and Toldek cursed at him too.
“Strange” Gawn said. “It ran off that way, and only a few moments ago I’d guess, the soil is still falling down on the edges of the track.” He leaned down and sniffed the track. “Doesn’t smell like an elk, and the tracks are not quite right. Hmmm…,” he mused. “It stood here for a little while, look how it strolled out into the sun here. It’s almost like it moved into the sun on purpose. Then it moved off quickly. It must have heard us coming.” Then he playfully tapped Jerok on the shoulder. “Heh, but it didn’t hear Lirak did it? I bet Lirak was right over by that tree the whole time. And it ran off when it heard us! Lirak I don’t know how you do it.” Gawn’s bemused grin made Lirak feel better.