“Chief, I’m sorry.”
“If you are a traitor, I should kill you right now. But first, Wakiza, I want you to answer me one question.”
“What’s that?”
“Why did you do it? Why did you let him live?”
Wakiza paused, and looked into Taima’s eyes, but said nothing.
“Very well. Wakiza, I cannot in good conscience kill a man who, in the past, has done so much for our people, who was once so revered as a warrior. But you are henceforth excommunicated from this tribe. You are no longer welcome in our village. May the Earth grant you more mercy than I have.”
With that, Taima turned his back on Wakiza and walked away, back to the shambles that were once the Thunder tribe’s encampment.
❦
Wakiza sat numbly on the ground as the whole magnitude of his predicament settled upon him. He’d been banished from his family, the only home he’d ever known. He wondered if he would ever see his parents again in his lifetime.
He stayed there, motionless, for quite a while, listening to the distant sounds of his former tribe recoiling from the surprise attack. Tears welled in his eyes at the sobs of devastated wives and mothers, and the cries of grown men who had lost a brother, son, or friend. Many had died protecting their families, as Siwili surely would have had Wakiza not intervened. The destruction would have been far worse without his impromptu warning; but in the end, it didn’t matter. He was alone now.
Finally realizing there was nothing he could do to remedy his current predicament, Wakiza picked up his blade, pulled his body up, and began to walk.
He walked away from the Thunder tribe, and ventured in a direction far even from the Sun tribe. If he had been excommunicated from his own people, he figured there wasn’t much of a chance of him being accepted by Aiyana’s tribe either. Sure, he had saved Akano, but he was still likely considered an ally of the Thunder tribe, given his status up until recently. If he chose to approach Aiyana’s tribe, the best he could hope for would be that her father, Chief Etu, would kill him and spare him the shame and loneliness that he was now destined to face. But even that sounded undesirable to him, and he had a feeling that although he was shunned, there might still be hope to have a decent life on his own—if he created that existence for himself, that is.
So Wakiza walked, and walked, and walked, until eventually he came upon what appeared to be some kind of makeshift shelter deep in the woods.
Wakiza approached the tent, which was made up of tightly woven branches and leaves, with a drooping bear’s hide for a door. He crept up to the entrance slowly, taking care not to crunch down on any sticks, but his attempts at remaining silent were futile as the hide swung open and Wakiza found himself face to face with a snarling wolf’s head.
Wakiza started to back away, but as the wolf emerged from the doorway to the hut, he realized that it was not in fact an actual wolf, but rather a stocky old man wearing a wolf’s hide. He froze, then decided it might be best to try to reason with this wolf-man and see if perhaps he could provide him with any kind of enlightenment on where he was, or where he could go from here. He did not want to impose on the man, but was simply curious as to why the wolf-man would go to all the trouble of building such an intricately designed house in such a remote location of the forest.
“What is it?” the man growled, much like a wolf might if Wakiza had in fact come upon an actual wolf.
“Hello… My name is Wakiza, of the Thunder tribe. Well, formerly of the Thunder tribe. I was hoping you might be able to help me.”
The man pursed his lips, and stared at Wakiza inquisitively. “What do you want?”
“Um, well, I was sent away from my tribe, and am looking for a place to stay. Might you have any idea where a good location would be? You see, my tribe is at war with another tribe, and I don’t want to live anywhere that might intersect with either one.”
“So old Chief Taima cast you off, did he?” the man harrumphed. “Typical. No wonder the Earth never blessed him with a son. He doesn’t know how to treat them well, now, does he?”
Wakiza said nothing. He had no desire to speak ill of his former chief, even despite his most recent interaction with him. Though he was deemed a traitor, Wakiza was far from one, even in his excommunication.
The man glared at Wakiza for a moment before sliding the wolf’s hide off his body. “I, too, was once a member of the Thunder tribe. But unlike you, I chose to leave. I am not the kind desperate for glory born from violence.” He cocked his head at Wakiza slightly and winked.
Wakiza squinted his eyes, and suddenly recognized the old man as the former shaman of the Thunder tribe. “Muraco?” He asked inquisitively.
“That’s me,” the man, whose name meant ‘white moon’, replied.
“What are you doing all the way out here? And by yourself?”
“Well, like I said, I chose to leave.”
“Aren’t you worried, being out here and all?”
“Worried about what? The Beast?”
“Aren’t you afraid he’ll try to eat you?”
“He’s not interested in eating my old meat!” Muraco chuckled. “Now, enough questions about Kajika for now. You’ll learn about him soon enough.”
“What does that mean?”
“Now, have you managed to become the great warrior you were foretold to be yet? Judging by your current predicament, I’m inclined to think otherwise.”
“I guess I sort of was. Up until recently.”
Muraco furrowed his brow. “I don’t know, Wakiza. I have a sense you might still have a chance. But it won’t be easy, of course.”
Wakiza mustered a small grin and chuckled. “Nothing ever is, right?”
“Right. Now, come on in, would you? It’s almost dark, and I’m sure you’re hungry and thirsty by now, after all your travels.”
“Thank you,” Wakiza replied, following the shaman into his home.
The interior of the tent was dark except for a small fire burning in the very back, below a tiny hole in the roof that allowed the smoke to disperse from the inside. A bed composed of leaves and animal hides on the ground extended down the side of one of the walls, while on the other side stood several clay pots that likely contained food and water. Wakiza gazed from pot to pot, wondering what could possibly lie within their hollows.
“Now, have a seat,” Muraco said, pointing to his bed. “I think I may be able to help you.”
“How?” Wakiza inquired.
“Well, there’s quite an easy way to find the answers you seek.”
“And what way would that be?”
“A journey of course!”
“Journey to where?”
“Not an actual journey somewhere, although I can’t guarantee that’s not what you may discover along the way!”
“Please, Muraco,” Wakiza nearly pleaded, rubbing his temples in exasperation. “I’m not so keen on the folklore and riddles and such. Can you just tell me outright, please?”
Muraco laughed. “Typical moose-headed warrior. I’m speaking of a spiritual journey.”
“A spiritual journey?” Wakiza said, though part of him wasn’t surprised. “You mean, like taking mind-altering substances?”
“‘Substances’? Boy, Taima sure has done one over on you. It’s mushrooms, to be exact. A special kind of mushroom. One that can take your mind to places never thought possible.” Muraco harrumphed again. “Mind-altering substances,” he muttered mockingly.
“But I am not a shaman!” Wakiza protested.
“Of course you’re not. But a lot of people in your very position do it, too. To find themselves, or their life’s purpose, if you will. If you’re unable to on your own, that is. Most people are, but you’re one of the lucky ones that, so far, has not been able to. So here we are.”
Wakiza sighed. “I guess what do I have to lose at this point, right?” he lamented.
“Exactly!” Muraco exclaimed, opening one of the clay pots and removing a few pieces of dried,
brown lumps. “Chew and swallow, if you please.”
Wakiza took the mushrooms from the shaman and sniffed them. They oddly enough did not smell as terrible as he expected. He took a quick lick of one, and found it didn’t have much taste. Reluctantly, he plugged his nose, opened his mouth, and dropped one in. As he chewed, he found it wasn’t horribly offensive to his taste buds, and when his saliva had broken down the mushrooms significantly, he swallowed.
“There you go,” Muraco said. “Now we wait.”
Wakiza lay down, and allowed his thoughts to gradually drift away. He pondered his predicament, explored possible outcomes, and—at last, when he couldn’t bear to think of the real world any longer—allowed himself to daydream of Aiyana.
Just as he was finally feeling like he might fall deeply into sleep, he slowly became aware of slight color changes within Muraco’s house that seemed to shift before his very eyes. Each color intensified, and began to trace across the room, trailing an aura of mist behind it. Sounds began to fluctuate within his mind, sounding very distant from him, then instantly loud, ringing and echoing in his ears. Then the colors cascaded down the walls, and patterns began to form that represented nothing to Wakiza’s eyes but pure perfection.
“Wakiza. Wakiza, do you feel it? Just visualize.” Muraco’s voice trailed across his brain. Wakiza sat up, looked around with wide, dilated eyes, then fixated upon the shaman.
“I feel… strange,” he whispered. Muraco laughed.
“Well, let’s get up then, and walk around the forest,” the shaman replied.
“No!” Wakiza protested instantly. “I… I can’t.”
“Nonsense. What kind of journey is spent just lying around? Get up, and let’s go.”
Wakiza reluctantly obliged, and followed Muraco out of his tent. The two men walked into a thick patch of trees, the songs of birds and the rustle of leaves surrounding them, and twigs cracking beneath their feet. The proximal noises violently assaulted Wakiza’s ears, and he couldn’t help but notice a faint chanting and pounding drums in the far distance.
“Here we are,” Muraco announced when the two had reached a very large and ancient-looking oak tree. “Sit. And close your eyes.”
Wakiza sat cross-legged on the ground, his eyes darting around and his torso whipping back and forth with every sound that came at him. He shut his eyes.
“Tell me, desperate warrior,” the shaman said softly. “What do you see?”
Wakiza squinted, hoping for some apparition or visualization to just appear out of nowhere, but all he saw was the pure darkness of the insides of his eyelids. He began to grow impatient, but instead took a deep breath and sighed. He relaxed his body and waited.
Suddenly, Wakiza got the distinct feeling that he and Muraco were no longer alone. There was a new a presence, though not a human one. Wakiza tried his hardest to focus on the visitor as its energy swirled around him. Within his mind, he attempted to reach out to the being, hoping to discover its identity.
Who are you? he asked fervently within his thoughts.
A voice, deep and gnarled, growled in reply, echoing only in his mind. I am the Spirit of the Mountain Lion. I’ve come at your request for guidance. What do you seek?
I seek the knowledge and wisdom necessary for peace within myself. I do not know who I am anymore, Wakiza replied.
I do not agree, the Lion snarled. You do know who you are, but your tribe chose not to accept you. I can help, if that is what you desire.
Wakiza opened his eyes, half expecting to snap out of his daydream and find himself sitting alone with Muraco. But he found to his surprise that Muraco was nowhere to be seen.In his place was a faint vision of a mountain lion—though much larger than an actual lion. The apparition floated distinctively before him, glaring him straight in the eye, staring through his entire soul. The forest around him had also grown eerie, the air was still and stale without a hint of wind, and an overall mist enveloped through the canopy of the trees.
Wakiza felt uneasy about the sudden change, but knew this was likely his only chance to communicate with his spirit animal totem directly.
“Please. I desire your help, Mountain Lion,” the warrior said aloud, to which the lion narrowed its eyes and nodded. Then the lion dissipated into thin air, and an image of a dark cave, rooted in the base of the northern mountain appeared, and an enormous, lizard-like monster emerged from the cave, its sharp, jagged teeth dripping with drool.
Here is where Kajika lies. Slay the Beast and reunite the inhabitants of this forest. Fail, and bear witness to the destruction of all the tribes within these trees.
So the Beast is real… Wakiza thought.
But remember, the lion added, Kajika walks without sound, so use your other senses to guide you. And whatever you do, do not look into the Beast’s eyes.
The energy then shifted, and Wakiza felt his stomach turn. He blinked, then looked around and found that once again Muraco was sitting beside him, and the forest had returned to its former normalcy.
“Well? How was it?” Muraco asked, excitement apparent in his tone.
“Very insightful,” Wakiza replied. “I think I know what I need to do now.”
“And what is that?”
“Slay Kajika. I guess he does exist, after all.”
“Then get on with it!” the shaman exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air. “I will leave you now. But you know where to find me if you need anything.”
“Thank you Muraco. And if I succeed in my quest, I hope you will to return to the Thunder tribe.”
“If the fighting has ceased, I just might. Goodbye.” And with that, Muraco rose from his seat, turned from the warrior, and walked away.
❦
Wakiza set off to the north. His mind was still unsure that this was the right path, yet something within his heart urged him to follow it. Though the vision of the spirit of the Mountain Lion had passed, Wakiza could still feel a hint of his almighty presence, looming over him and watching closely as he traveled. Every so often, Wakiza would stop, look around, and whisper some brief words of gratitude, expressing his appreciation for the lion’s invisible appearance and silently pleading with the spirit not to leave his side. His rhetorical offerings seemed to be effective, for all the while that he traveled, he was accompanied by his animal totem.
As Wakiza walked, he found himself thinking of nothing but Aiyana, recalling the moment he had first met her over and over within his mind. It had been spring, and both tribes were eager to resume their hunting and gathering routines after the long winter. Wakiza had been hiding behind a blackberry bush, spying on a family of rabbits in the distant clearing, poised with his bow and arrow and ready for one to draw close enough to provide him a suitable shot.
One of the larger rabbits had moved away from the group, drawing closer to Wakiza’s hiding place. He readied his arrow, tense with anticipation, ready to loosen the taut string at a second’s notice. Then he felt a slight shove, and lost his crouched footing, falling to his rear with a loud thump. The family of rabbits perked up, eyes wide, then instantly scattered back to their burrows.
Wakiza stood up, angry and indignant, but his rage quickly dissipated as he found himself gazing directly into the shimmering eyes of Aiyana, who had been picking blackberries from the other side of the bush. Apparently he had been in her way, and was blocking a prime batch of berries, which prompted her to try to move him rather than request his relocation. Rather than protest, Wakiza had been so stunned by her beauty that he was at a loss for words.
“Very articulate, I see,” Aiyana teased, flashing a quick wink in his direction.
“I, uh, um…”
“The hunter speaks!” Aiyana giggled. “Or, judging from your arm tattoo, I should call you the brave warrior, yes? From the Thunder tribe?”
“That’s right. I’m Wakiza.”
“Aiyana. Pleasure to meet you, great warrior.”
“I… I’m sorry that, um, my body happened to be in your way,” Wakiza stammer
ed.
Aiyana smiled. “It’s not a problem. Luckily for me, my meal isn’t able to just up and hop away.” She delicately plucked a few more berries from the bush and dropped them into her basket, then glanced at Wakiza once more, her eyes sparkling. “Sorry about your rabbit. I’m happy to share some of these ripe berries with you, if you’d like.”
Wakiza felt his face flush, and took a deep breath. “Thank you,” he nearly squeaked out. “That will be better than returning home empty handed.”
“This batch over here looks the best. Why don’t you grab some of them?”
Wakiza inched forward, and held out his hand to select one of the berries from the batch. To his surprise, Aiyana reached her soft hand toward his, guiding it to the ripest, juiciest berry of the bunch. The two locked eyes, and Wakiza felt a chill radiate through his entire body. He couldn’t look away from Aiyana, and knew at that very moment that this was the woman he forever wished to look upon. Not just for the remainder of his life, but in his heart he knew it was for all of eternity.
“Aiyana! Aiyana, where are you?” An unfamiliar female voice rang out, and Aiyana quickly pulled her arm away from Wakiza, and quickly stood up.
“I have to go,” she said. “My mother can’t see me talking to you.” She began to hurry away.
“AIYANA!? AIYANA, WHERE ARE YOU?!”
“Coming, Mother!”
“Aiyana, wait!” Wakiza called out, and Aiyana whirled around. “When can I see you again?”
“Meet me by the oldest oak that marks the line between our tribes. Tomorrow night just after the sun sets,” Aiyana hollered back before darting off and finally disappearing within the trees.
After that, the two of them began to meet in secret, disappearing from their tribes for short periods of time to walk through the forest together, sharing stories and laughing. They would always meet at the same tree, and with each passing day they fell deeper and deeper in love.
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