Steady flows of tears dripped down his cheeks. A white beard shimmered from the sadness he felt within. Once a great hunter, now, an old man who needed to be doted upon like a new-born son. He questioned why the spirits were so cruel; why did he live while so many others didn’t? His heart ached to be with them. He was tired. He closed his eyes and his failing memory took him back along the river bank with a group of hunters who had long passed into the darkness of the night.
Barely audible whispers announced trouble. A warning message hung on the misty air. “Brother, I smell a cave bear, but can’t see or hear him. He must be hiding in the trees just along the river, waiting for the right time to take one of us. Careful.”
Tosak delivered a tense response. “I too feel its presence, the bear’s spirit is still, watchful. He lies in solitude, nearby, patient, looking for the opportunity to prey upon us; make us his next meal. Stay close brothers, spears at the ready.”
The raging river, overflowing from the spring thaw, beat upon its banks like a shaman’s drum; an incessant, crashing of water over limestone rocks deafened one’s ear from the four-legged danger that lurked close at hand. These wise hunters were accustomed to such conditions. Rather than draw attention to their location by the spoken word, the men used an elaborate number of hand signs to communicate. Still, if a clumsy foot broke a twig by mistake, it would be heard by the bear since it had acute hearing just for such occasions. It had to if its species were to survive and escape the tunnel of extinction.
The jagged waterway was bound on both sides by mammoth boulders the size of a cave opening, a myriad of places for a creature to hide and spring-out to make its kill. Intertwined between the white sentinels that lined the riverbanks were scattered remnants of tree trunks and branches in various forms of decay, swept down the waterway, and deposited along the edge of the greenish ribbon of water. It was an uninviting environment that favored the creature and not the hunters.
A cool mist from the river made each step precarious. A veil of droplets coated the rocks with a slippery covering. Each step measured, carefully planted. How could a hunter escape powerful jaws when the pathway to freedom was hindered by an uncompassionate landscape?
Tosak felt especially vulnerable in this setting; he needed to focus intently upon his steps but also anticipate the unforeseen moment when the creature would spring out and attack the hunting party. Distractions resulted in injury or death…which would they face on this adventure? He witnessed many of his friends and family members attacked by countless wild beasts. Shaggy cave bears. Tawny lions. Long-toothed tigers. At times, the hunters won and at others, they were less fortunate, and their nemesis was victorious.
A handful of hunters moved as a single entity; spears held tightly in clenched fists. Glistening obsidian-points raised in all directions. Heads bobbed in a synchronistic wave like debris in the river. Eyes moved this way and that seeking any movement of their stalker. Gazing through the light mist that slowly descended upon them created tension…strained nerves undermined the bravery of the bravest. The wind carried an ominous sign as it swirled between the river and the rocks. The repugnant smell of the cave bear hung thickly upon the air…it was close, perhaps too close.
The men found themselves in a narrowed passageway of rocks. Limestone monoliths three spears-high strained to touch the sky, encircled them, smoothed by the raging waters, there were no handholds if danger presented itself. Only one way out. Trapped. Zedex was on the right and Tosak on the left, the group nervously moved forward to their destiny.
A dark shadow deftly lunged from behind a rock and took a frightening swipe at Zedex. There was no time to protect himself. He took the blow full force and bounced off the rocks like a pine cone carried by the winter winds. The sound of shattered bones pierced the men’s souls. A sickening groan echoed within terrified ears. The battle was on, and the outcome meant death to either the hunters or the hunted.
Tosak stepped-up and faced his nemesis. Fear, controlled fear, gripped him and he acted upon instinct. There was no time to think of what to do or what not to do. As he yelled, the bear stood on his back legs and growled ominously. A massive body blocked out the escape route for the hunters. Sharp teeth and wide eyes stared at its next victim. It lunged forward but stumbled on some loose stones; that was all that was needed. A fatal mistake, Tosak reacted without hesitation. In this position, a fearsome blade easily penetrated its broad chest.
It roared and fell with a well-placed spearhead embedded deeply within its heart. It let out a deep groan. It breathed its last breath. The claws twitched uncontrollably and then stopped. Death to the beast. A roar of approval could be heard above the din of the raging waters. A clean kill, the spirits of the lands looked favorably upon this rag tag group of men. A legend was born this day.
The hunters approached the bleeding corpse and in a final act of defiance, each plunged their spears into the body of the beast. They wanted the spirit of the bear to accept defeat at the hands of a stronger, wiser opponent.
With the slaughtered beast at hand, there was no time to waste; a broken body bleeds and requires action to stop it from ending one’s life. They huddled around their injured comrade, all eyes examined Zedex’s wounds; five deep claw marks across his back and one badly damaged leg when he was battered against the rocks. The injured clamped down hard upon a strip of hide, the bravest of the brave.
“Wrap his wound with this strip of fur.” Tosak took his flint blade and cut a long, narrow strip from his own furs for his friend. A porcelain white bone stuck-out of his fur leggings, coated with crimson blood. A bloodied set of hands delicately wrapped the entire area, from hip to knee. The others gathered around Zedex and offered red berries to help numb the pain from his shattered leg bone.
The injured hunter grimaced in pain…but this was a hunter’s life. He was injured, still, he was alive and would recover from this latest attack.
“Let’s wash that wound brother. You know that a cut from this foul creature’s claws can fester and send you to the spirit world. The pain of sharp claws is one matter to deal with; the agony felt from fever is yet another. The spirits are never patient with such wounds. They are bold as they attempt to grab hold of your hand and lead you down the pathway to their domain of death and sorrow. Be quick!”
With a family member on each arm, they brought their wounded brother to the edge of the river bank, rubbed green leaves into the deep gashes, and then washed it off. The pain was excruciating, but an experienced hunter had to deal with such hurts when they met the beasts that inhabited their area. Several more times they followed this regime; rub with leaves, wash with water. When they believed the wounds were cleaned properly, they made haste to head homeward.
“Men, I’ll help Zedex, and you prepare the kill for our way back home.”
With their injured clan member taken care of, the jubilant hunters searched for and found a stout tree branch amongst the large piles of rubble. They tied the beast’s feet together with sinew, and then passed the tree branch between its bound feet. A limp body hung from the pole; still, it was easier to move it this way than to cut-up the creature and carry separate pieces of its carcass to the cave. It was heavy treasure to present to the family.
They were ready to begin their odyssey back. Under an azure sky the procession took shape as Tosak and Zedex followed closely behind the line. As they maneuvered through the rocky terrain with their prize, pride swelled up in his chest. He saved his clan member and killed a beast. This was a story he could tell his children and his children’s children about…if the spirits blessed him with long life.
The trek back was tedious; a heavy carcass and an injured hunter made the journey a long one. The smell of blood made them an inviting target. Would the sky spirits betray them? A brisk wind can carry the smell of death far across the meadow grasses. The one hope was that no other beast would pounce upon them unexpectedly. If this occurred, they were in real peril since their spears were bundled together in one
hunter’s hands having been replaced with a tree branch transporting a slain animal.
Through clenched teeth Zedex thanked his savior. “Brother, you killed the bear before it had a chance to deliver you or another to our ancestors. You saved me today; you saved us today by your brave act. May our ancestors look upon you with a smile and continue to give you strength, bravery, and courage.” A strong hand slapped Tosak’s back as a sincere sign of his appreciation.
“Thank you. My dear Zedex, the gracious spirits of the lands and river looked graciously upon this today. We killed the beast and you’re alive. We must thank those who saved us this day; a day that allows us to live yet another.” The rest of the way home was quiet as each member of the clan was grateful for what took place at the river that morning.
As they approached the cave entrance, there were peals of laughter and fits of dismay as well. The children knew that they would eat sweet meat this day and the women knew that they had to care for Zedex as quickly as possible to heal his wounds. They understood that they needed as many healthy hunters as they could to provide food and safety for everyone.
“Old woman, Zedex needs your wisdom of such wounds to recover quickly, and to have full use of his leg again.”
This injury was like so many the women of the Forest Clan witnessed over many seasons. Broken bones. Bloodied bodies. Severed arms and legs.
“Healer, I know that you’ll do your best… that’s all a hunter can ask.”
Dona sat quietly beside the warming fire, eyes closed, when the party arrived back at the cave. There was much confusion, but she was calm while unexpectedly awakened from her union with the hallowed spirits. Piercing black eyes penetrated the mass of bodies that swarmed around the wounded hunter. Without hesitation, soiled fingers brushed back disheveled hair, untied two sinewy ribbons that held its contents hostage, and opened a small leather pouch hung around her thin neck. Colorful shells and beads reflected the warm hue of the fire as she rummaged through the bag which held her various medicines and totems. A toothy smile revealed that she discovered what was needed in this instance. Her right hand held the promise of full recovery and good health.
She deftly sprung up like a frightened lioness from where she sat. She was the Seeress of her people, entrusted by all to save them from what angered the spirits. She was the intermediary between the spirit world and their known world. The entire clan believed she held the wisdom to right any wrongs they committed knowingly or unknowingly towards the land, sky, and water spirits. This responsibility weighed heavy upon her youthful shoulders.
The Seeress was an odd creature when compared to other women of the cave. No hunter would have her…others of her age were two hands shorter, many hands wider, and able to sew, butcher game, and bear children. Narrow hips, frail arms and bowed legs were not looked upon favorably; these features were frowned upon by the men and women of this era. Most wondered how she could ever bear a child since she looked like a green sapling just a few seasons old. Furthermore, the furs she wore alarmed most eligible suitors; the men were unaccustomed to their women wearing colorful feathers in their hair and shells on their furs. Hers, was contradictory to the norm. In fact, most things, physical, mental, and spiritual deviated greatly from the accepted habits of her extended family. That was how she survived.
Her ivory cheeks were smeared with three horizontal black lines; ebony pigment dug from the nearby riverbank. White skin and black facial lines as well as several tattoos only raised the clan’s level of suspicion towards her. Her body markings inspired by legends of the spirits of the whispering spring winds and the howling of the winter’s ice and snowstorms. Frequently, she wore a wooden mask that concealed her eyes from the light of day…she often sang their ancient songs by the light of their night fires while others curled up in their warm furs wanting to stay safe from any nocturnal creatures. She felt a kinship with the spirits of the night, nestled within her black abyss she knew there was little for concern.
Since she was a Seeress, most were fearful of her. They kept their distance. They never stared her in the eye, if so, their life spirits could easily be taken from them and a quick death followed. If they wronged her, it was thought that she could summon up a handful of bad spirits against those unfortunate ones and cause sickness and death to them. Any spitefulness of such a woman could result in a painful life and quick death. Hence, there was a fine line between developing an attachment to her and being dependent upon her. Most were uneasy as they walked that line.
Nevertheless, being shunned by love never bothered her. Instead, her mate was the spirit world. There was a sacred connection between those that the eye could not see, but the spirit could behold. She found solace in journeying to the hidden worlds within her mind more than the physical touch of a hunter. And she would rather be the ‘mother’ of the entire clan than be limited to be a mother of several children.
Once up on her feet, Dona approached Zedex to examine his wounds. An experienced hand nimbly rolled the bloodied fur back revealing the severity of the five deep gashes left by the bear. Thin fingers poked and prodded the bloody wound. Crimson blood coated each of them; she put a finger to her opened mouth and licked the warm blood. Black eyes rolled in her head. Ecstasy written upon her face. She mumbled a few words, gyrated wildly, and threw what she held in her hand into the fire. A dazzling flame and a puff of grey smoke erupted in the face of the voyeurs. A collective groan passed through their lips as they nervously sat through this performance.
As the smoke settled to the earthen floor, the Seeress abruptly stopped her intoxicating spinning, and uttered these words. “Women, the all-knowing spirits have told me you can begin to cleanse Zedex’s wounds. Our kind benefactors also spoke that he shall recover but have warned me of a limp he must endure each day he lives. Still, he should be thankful for life, although his injured leg shall remind him of the pain he felt this day. Proceed.”
An entourage of elderly women gathered around the injured hunter, removed the last bits of fur that bound the wound, and took their turns licking the bloodied area of Zedex’s leg. He lay quiet, bravely fighting the pain that accompanied his condition. After some time passed, the women dried his leg with yellow grass, wrapped it with bluish seriated leaves, and gave him water to drink. This was the best care they could provide.
While his friend received such attention, Tosak, the brave and courageous hunter was about to share his experience with the young children of the clan, a tradition that would be carried on to the next generation and then the next one after that.
“Young ones, watch, and learn for you will one day pass this knowledge down to your children who will then pass it down to their children. In this way, I’ll never be forgotten; we’ll never be forgotten. Our grandfathers are not forgotten as they live in the spirit world; they are here with us as we make our spears and necklaces from the knowledge they received from their grandfathers and the grandfathers before that.”
The wise hunter used a sharp needle made from deer antler and made a small hole in each claw. As he worked, fourteen naïve eyes watched intently. He passed a thin sliver of sinew through the holes and strung them together to commemorate his brave and selfless achievement. He tied a knot that would keep each claw attached to his prize. As he placed the powerful medicine around his neck, Dona, who was finished with Zedex, spoke to the spirits of the lands. Young ears would hear those words and speak the same message of gratitude and reverence for the beasts of the land to their children one day.
“Beloved spirits that move about the lands, rivers, and valleys around our home, give brother Tosak strength and wisdom to end the life of those that enable us to live. Let their spirits be kind to us and allow us to live as they shall die. Their sacrifice enables our kind to exist, and as we live we shall remember them in our tribal songs, dances, and words. Legends of their great strength and cunning shall live as their bodies die to feed our bodies. Their claws shall hang as proud reminders of the earthly bodies that once roamed o
ur lands but now live with the spirits.” Her request would be answered for many seasons.
“Grandfather?” A soft voice jolted Tosak the Elder back to the present.
Teary eyes opened wide. “Yes, Johar, I hear you. Before you speak, listen to my words, let me have my say. My son now has his first son. It is now time to pass this along to him.” A trembling hand held his bear claw necklace. “Will you place my most prized possession around the neck of your new-born son, Ovark, when he has made the passage from boy to man?”
Johar hesitated, searching for a litany of kind words to address her elder’s request. “Please, you still have many seasons with us. Just two moons ago, Narizon ate his revered plants and visited the spirit world; he told me himself that he saw you living longer than most of us here today. The spirits told him they don’t want you yet; they need you to pass more of the clan’s wisdom to the young...the inexperienced in the ways of our ancestors. The hunters of the future must learn from the hunter of the past. The great one who tracked and killed many bears and lions, so his kind could live and prosper.”
This was what he expected from this fine woman and mother. “Narizon’s vison is sometimes blurred by his interpretation of our most revered plants. They tell the truth, but he may want to stretch that truth at times. He is a benevolent medicine man of great virtue, still he wants you to believe that I’ll outlive you, Tusik, and even Bundan. My wife, sons, and daughters are taken, turned to grey dust by the spirits. I’ve lost everyone, family, friends…all gone. My eyes are heavy as my heart at this moment and have little belief that I’ll be here to witness the next migration of the reindeer.”
Before mother could answer, a desperate call for help vibrated off the cave walls. These craggy walls were accustomed to such things; they had heard many such appeals before the voices were extinguished in a blood curdling scream of pain. Death by the strong jaws of a cave bear or sharp teeth of a lion. Instinctually, the hunters grabbed their spears and hurriedly ran to meet the voices…father was in the lead with several of our bravest hunters.
Birth of the Chosen One Page 2