Post by TimberWolfie on May 11, 2011 19:57:15 GMT 8
1
The Coming of Eytukan
The screaming only stopped when she died. And then he started to scream.
The young hunter, whose keen ears picked up on the wail, was never sure whether it has been the woman’s last call, or the boy’s first that alerted him. It was such an alien sound, a sound that no native animal would ever make.
Careful, brisk steps led the way to the sound of the cry, which continued on like an ikran calling out to its lost mate in the night. The hunter kept in the safety of the trees, stealthily moving, knowing not to go into the open, as his father had told him. To do so would put one certainly in the range of danger, and that was something he could do without. The bioluminescent light cast an angelic glow on the hunter as he made his way towards the unknown creature, making such a horrible night not quite so fearsome.
In his keen line of sight, he saw her. Not animal; definitely no animal. Rather, one of his own kind lay in the open grass, unprotected. How foolish was she? At this area, there was risk of attack from anything, such as a young palulukan who had a taste for blood. The hunter cast his eyes around, trying to see if there was any other danger nearby. There would be, if she didn’t stop crying. The hunter moved towards her once he was sure he was in no immediate danger, and he quickly discovered that it wasn’t her who had been making such a racket in the otherwise still forest. She looked young – not much older than he – and she was clothed, and through those clothes the hunter saw stains of blood. Her legs were open, and her face was ashen; the hunter knew she was dead.
A cry alerted him again, and the hunter thought to look down. He pulled back slightly at the sight at his feet. There was a little body, its cyan skin covered in blood and fluid, and a rope coming from its stomach and attaching to its mother’s. The hunter had a choice to make – should he flee, or should he save? ‘Eywa help me,’ he prayed in his head. If he brought such a young one back to his clan, in the time it took him, the child could easily die of cold. He had no fabric upon him other than the clothes he wore, and that was barely enough to keep him safe from the slight chill of the evening. Then again, if he left the baby, what would Eywa do to him? His kind didn’t have a revengeful goddess, but did he not owe her something in exchange for the life She had provided him?
It occurred to the hunter that as he debated his options, the child would grow weaker and weaker. He looked at the cord, and then his knife. He quickly let the knife slice through the flesh-like rope, and immediately blood rushed out of either end. He thought quickly, and subconsciously his hand reached out to the blades of grass in the meadow. He hastily wrapped the grass around the place he had cut the cord, as the child’s cries had come to a small whimper. The hunter’s ears went back; that couldn’t be good. He picked the child up, ignoring the fact that the blood got rubbed off on his own skin. The hunter paused for one moment as he looked at the woman. He closed her legs and covered her up more with the clothes she wore. It seemed to be the right thing to do.
But what to do with the child? The hunter started to head home, not really knowing, hoping an idea of sheer genius would come to him as he did. And, one did.
• • •
The healer had picked up the newborn by the ankles and slapped its bottom. No sound was uttered.
In the clan in Nawmä Na’ríng, the women didn’t scream; it was just not the done thing. But as the new mother had looked at her child, she wanted to. She gazed at the limp body and just wanted to cry out in anguish.
The healer had gently placed his clan mate down; a clan mate that never breathed. He looked at the woman, who had tears gathering in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Ta’riat,” the healer, Ex’to sincerely apologised. He came over to his leader, and friend, and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. She brushed it off, and the healer pulled back.
Ta’riat looked at her son, one who hadn’t even had a chance at life. That was unfair. What had she done? It must have been her error, for her son hadn’t even had a chance to live – to make a mistake. It was her fault.
“It happens sometimes, Ta’riat,” Ex’to told her. It was meant to offer comfort, but even he could hear the hollowness in his own voice. Sure, he could tell her that she could have another. He could tell her that she would have another son, one strong enough to even put his father to shame. He didn’t want to say it, and she didn’t want to hear it. Ex’to’s ears went back as he looked out towards the hall, where the expectant father was waiting. He hesitated, and then went outside to deliver the news.
But that was over an hour ago. The lifeless infant was left on the table, as Ex’to chanted some prayers upon him. It would have been Ta’riat’s responsibility, but given the circumstances, he took on the role as acting Tsahìk. The actual one laid in a hammock, her knees to her chest as the cramps ebbed away, and as she brooded over her loss. The Olo’eyktan paced furiously, and in doing so did little to calm his distraught wife. Her brother had been in before, until he had kicked him out. He usually adored his brother-in-law, but was just wracked with sorrow, he hadn’t wanted him within the area he was. And the less people who knew about this, the better. “You’ll just have to stay inside for a little while,” he instructed his mate. “Until we figure out what to do.”
Ta’riat’s ears flickered at that. She didn’t really want to make a reply. Thankfully, Ex’to finished his chants over the infant – the infant she hadn’t even held – and turned to his leader. “’Figure out what to do’?” he echoed, something rather bold. The leader’s condemning eyes told him he was crossing the line. “What is there to do, Auel?”
“You are not helping,” Auel growled at the member. Ex’to held his tongue. Auel turned to his wife. “We’ll just tell them that someone came and hurt you, and you lost the baby.” It was better than saying it was a stillborn, which was the worst thing, under miscarriage, in the clan’s eyes.
Ta’riat snapped at that. She brought her head up from the hammock and looked at her mate out of the corner of her eye. “And what would that achieve?” The hostility in her voice snapped both men to attention. It wasn’t only her tone, but this was the most she had spoken in an hour.
“It’s better than saying he was a stillborn,” Auel argued.
“’He’ is named Eytukan,” Ta’riat frowned. She turned her back to him once more, curling her body up. Ex’to sighed. The poor woman. She was so distraught over her loss.
Auel sighed and let his ears fall low. He wasn’t taking this whole situation well. “I’m sorry,” he apologised to his love. He knew she was taking this badly, and his attitude wasn’t helping. Ta’riat made no reply to him, verbal or otherwise. He was about to add something when he heard a gentle rap on the pillar of the medical centre. Auel’s sudden temper rise made him want to turn around and snap at the one who had entered, especially since no one was to be up here, until he saw the figure of his brother-in-law. That still didn’t truly alter the fact that he wanted him out, but he was family. “Yes, Ta’ren?” he asked in a weary voice. He hoped that the boy was smart enough not to run around announcing to the clan that the future Olo’eyktan didn’t breathe. Auel cast his eyes over the boy, and saw the bundle he carried. Naked, and wet, it was a little child.
“My Eywa,” Ex’to gasped, making a sign over himself to ward off the evil.
Ta’ren looked at the small bundle in his arms that he had found after leaving his sister’s birthing room. He had managed to keep him alive, but only just. Ex’to hurried over, promptly forgetting the deceased, and picked the child out of Ta’ren’s arms. A little boy, so small that Ex’to wondered if he had been premature, or if that was his actual size.
Auel paid no attention to the infant, and turned to Ta’ren, his eyes narrowing somewhat. “Where did you find him?” he asked his brother-in-law.
The young hunter hesitated. “I went hunting in the woods. I found him.”
“His mother?”
“Dead.”
Ex’to shook his head sadly as he cleaned off the little boy. Poor little thing, he wouldn’t last till morning. The child’s feverish cries as a warm cloth was dragged over his skin roused Ta’riat slightly, and she cast her eyes over to him. It was as if she were looking right through him at first, refusing to believe that even though she had lost her child, others could still have them. Slowly though, her eyes came to focus as she saw the struggling infant.
Ta’ren and everyone else was unaware of the feelings that stirred within Ta’riat. “What shall we call him?” he asked before Ex’to could tell them of his fears for the baby.
Auel shook his head. “We shouldn’t give him a name.” When Ta’ren looked at his brother questioningly, the elder replied, “Let him return to Eywa. She will give him a name in Paradise.”
Ta’riat moved so she was sitting up, trying to get a better view of the child. She hesitated and, since she couldn’t get up, she stretched her arms out. “Ex’to... May I?” Ex’to paused and, before Auel could say anything, brought the child to the grieving Tsahìk. Ta’riat took the child tenderly in her arms, cradling him against her chest. At the feeling of warmth, the child quietened, and his large, intelligent eyes looking up at Ta’riat. Ta’riat felt a sudden need rise within her; the need to protect him.
Auel caught the look in his mate’s eyes as she looked at the child. No. No, that couldn’t work – not for a clan leader. It just wasn’t done. “Ta’riat... Don’t.”
Ta’riat wasn’t paying attention to her mate’s pleads. “Eytukan...” she whispered, pressing a kiss to the child’s forehead.
The Coming of Eytukan
The screaming only stopped when she died. And then he started to scream.
The young hunter, whose keen ears picked up on the wail, was never sure whether it has been the woman’s last call, or the boy’s first that alerted him. It was such an alien sound, a sound that no native animal would ever make.
Careful, brisk steps led the way to the sound of the cry, which continued on like an ikran calling out to its lost mate in the night. The hunter kept in the safety of the trees, stealthily moving, knowing not to go into the open, as his father had told him. To do so would put one certainly in the range of danger, and that was something he could do without. The bioluminescent light cast an angelic glow on the hunter as he made his way towards the unknown creature, making such a horrible night not quite so fearsome.
In his keen line of sight, he saw her. Not animal; definitely no animal. Rather, one of his own kind lay in the open grass, unprotected. How foolish was she? At this area, there was risk of attack from anything, such as a young palulukan who had a taste for blood. The hunter cast his eyes around, trying to see if there was any other danger nearby. There would be, if she didn’t stop crying. The hunter moved towards her once he was sure he was in no immediate danger, and he quickly discovered that it wasn’t her who had been making such a racket in the otherwise still forest. She looked young – not much older than he – and she was clothed, and through those clothes the hunter saw stains of blood. Her legs were open, and her face was ashen; the hunter knew she was dead.
A cry alerted him again, and the hunter thought to look down. He pulled back slightly at the sight at his feet. There was a little body, its cyan skin covered in blood and fluid, and a rope coming from its stomach and attaching to its mother’s. The hunter had a choice to make – should he flee, or should he save? ‘Eywa help me,’ he prayed in his head. If he brought such a young one back to his clan, in the time it took him, the child could easily die of cold. He had no fabric upon him other than the clothes he wore, and that was barely enough to keep him safe from the slight chill of the evening. Then again, if he left the baby, what would Eywa do to him? His kind didn’t have a revengeful goddess, but did he not owe her something in exchange for the life She had provided him?
It occurred to the hunter that as he debated his options, the child would grow weaker and weaker. He looked at the cord, and then his knife. He quickly let the knife slice through the flesh-like rope, and immediately blood rushed out of either end. He thought quickly, and subconsciously his hand reached out to the blades of grass in the meadow. He hastily wrapped the grass around the place he had cut the cord, as the child’s cries had come to a small whimper. The hunter’s ears went back; that couldn’t be good. He picked the child up, ignoring the fact that the blood got rubbed off on his own skin. The hunter paused for one moment as he looked at the woman. He closed her legs and covered her up more with the clothes she wore. It seemed to be the right thing to do.
But what to do with the child? The hunter started to head home, not really knowing, hoping an idea of sheer genius would come to him as he did. And, one did.
• • •
The healer had picked up the newborn by the ankles and slapped its bottom. No sound was uttered.
In the clan in Nawmä Na’ríng, the women didn’t scream; it was just not the done thing. But as the new mother had looked at her child, she wanted to. She gazed at the limp body and just wanted to cry out in anguish.
The healer had gently placed his clan mate down; a clan mate that never breathed. He looked at the woman, who had tears gathering in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Ta’riat,” the healer, Ex’to sincerely apologised. He came over to his leader, and friend, and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. She brushed it off, and the healer pulled back.
Ta’riat looked at her son, one who hadn’t even had a chance at life. That was unfair. What had she done? It must have been her error, for her son hadn’t even had a chance to live – to make a mistake. It was her fault.
“It happens sometimes, Ta’riat,” Ex’to told her. It was meant to offer comfort, but even he could hear the hollowness in his own voice. Sure, he could tell her that she could have another. He could tell her that she would have another son, one strong enough to even put his father to shame. He didn’t want to say it, and she didn’t want to hear it. Ex’to’s ears went back as he looked out towards the hall, where the expectant father was waiting. He hesitated, and then went outside to deliver the news.
But that was over an hour ago. The lifeless infant was left on the table, as Ex’to chanted some prayers upon him. It would have been Ta’riat’s responsibility, but given the circumstances, he took on the role as acting Tsahìk. The actual one laid in a hammock, her knees to her chest as the cramps ebbed away, and as she brooded over her loss. The Olo’eyktan paced furiously, and in doing so did little to calm his distraught wife. Her brother had been in before, until he had kicked him out. He usually adored his brother-in-law, but was just wracked with sorrow, he hadn’t wanted him within the area he was. And the less people who knew about this, the better. “You’ll just have to stay inside for a little while,” he instructed his mate. “Until we figure out what to do.”
Ta’riat’s ears flickered at that. She didn’t really want to make a reply. Thankfully, Ex’to finished his chants over the infant – the infant she hadn’t even held – and turned to his leader. “’Figure out what to do’?” he echoed, something rather bold. The leader’s condemning eyes told him he was crossing the line. “What is there to do, Auel?”
“You are not helping,” Auel growled at the member. Ex’to held his tongue. Auel turned to his wife. “We’ll just tell them that someone came and hurt you, and you lost the baby.” It was better than saying it was a stillborn, which was the worst thing, under miscarriage, in the clan’s eyes.
Ta’riat snapped at that. She brought her head up from the hammock and looked at her mate out of the corner of her eye. “And what would that achieve?” The hostility in her voice snapped both men to attention. It wasn’t only her tone, but this was the most she had spoken in an hour.
“It’s better than saying he was a stillborn,” Auel argued.
“’He’ is named Eytukan,” Ta’riat frowned. She turned her back to him once more, curling her body up. Ex’to sighed. The poor woman. She was so distraught over her loss.
Auel sighed and let his ears fall low. He wasn’t taking this whole situation well. “I’m sorry,” he apologised to his love. He knew she was taking this badly, and his attitude wasn’t helping. Ta’riat made no reply to him, verbal or otherwise. He was about to add something when he heard a gentle rap on the pillar of the medical centre. Auel’s sudden temper rise made him want to turn around and snap at the one who had entered, especially since no one was to be up here, until he saw the figure of his brother-in-law. That still didn’t truly alter the fact that he wanted him out, but he was family. “Yes, Ta’ren?” he asked in a weary voice. He hoped that the boy was smart enough not to run around announcing to the clan that the future Olo’eyktan didn’t breathe. Auel cast his eyes over the boy, and saw the bundle he carried. Naked, and wet, it was a little child.
“My Eywa,” Ex’to gasped, making a sign over himself to ward off the evil.
Ta’ren looked at the small bundle in his arms that he had found after leaving his sister’s birthing room. He had managed to keep him alive, but only just. Ex’to hurried over, promptly forgetting the deceased, and picked the child out of Ta’ren’s arms. A little boy, so small that Ex’to wondered if he had been premature, or if that was his actual size.
Auel paid no attention to the infant, and turned to Ta’ren, his eyes narrowing somewhat. “Where did you find him?” he asked his brother-in-law.
The young hunter hesitated. “I went hunting in the woods. I found him.”
“His mother?”
“Dead.”
Ex’to shook his head sadly as he cleaned off the little boy. Poor little thing, he wouldn’t last till morning. The child’s feverish cries as a warm cloth was dragged over his skin roused Ta’riat slightly, and she cast her eyes over to him. It was as if she were looking right through him at first, refusing to believe that even though she had lost her child, others could still have them. Slowly though, her eyes came to focus as she saw the struggling infant.
Ta’ren and everyone else was unaware of the feelings that stirred within Ta’riat. “What shall we call him?” he asked before Ex’to could tell them of his fears for the baby.
Auel shook his head. “We shouldn’t give him a name.” When Ta’ren looked at his brother questioningly, the elder replied, “Let him return to Eywa. She will give him a name in Paradise.”
Ta’riat moved so she was sitting up, trying to get a better view of the child. She hesitated and, since she couldn’t get up, she stretched her arms out. “Ex’to... May I?” Ex’to paused and, before Auel could say anything, brought the child to the grieving Tsahìk. Ta’riat took the child tenderly in her arms, cradling him against her chest. At the feeling of warmth, the child quietened, and his large, intelligent eyes looking up at Ta’riat. Ta’riat felt a sudden need rise within her; the need to protect him.
Auel caught the look in his mate’s eyes as she looked at the child. No. No, that couldn’t work – not for a clan leader. It just wasn’t done. “Ta’riat... Don’t.”
Ta’riat wasn’t paying attention to her mate’s pleads. “Eytukan...” she whispered, pressing a kiss to the child’s forehead.