Chapter 5: The Melting Pot

A  late  bloomer,  Dorag had grown tall like the majority of hunters in his troop, but by no means was he the most powerful, his lean body possessing  nowhere near the brute strength of the burly others.   Still he had become a proven hunter, more cunning than most, so much so that stories of his exploits made it to the campfires of the ruling clan.  As young and ambitious as Dorag was, there were those equally as ambitious among the Reindeer hunters of the Mammoti who vied for up and coming Bahr-Bahr hunters worthy of joining their high ranking clan.

As to the true history of the Bahr-Bahr Clan, much of this was lost, believing themselves as always having been a part of the Hinter-lander tribe.  The truth was that they were a melting pot of peoples that had come about  many generations before when the Bahr-Bahr were slaves, possessions of the Hinter-lander's who had migrated from the Northeast, a powerful and  aggressive group who eked out a new existence on the Southern land bordered by a range of mountains, a shimmering sea, and tidal river that at  the time was the home of two other peoples-- the River Tribe and the Southern Hinter-landers.

There was a time when the Hinter-landers lived only in the North East where they had prospered for many thousands of winters, but that was when it was balmy year round, and well before the great deluge of snow and ice that progressed over the 75,000 winters that followed.  The progression of ice being slow had enabled them to adapt, as did  their preferred prey -- furless mega beasts equipped with long tusks and snout, features that changed as the face of their land had changed with the ever growing cold.  Finally, the great white serpent of ice that encroached on their land had grown to the extent that undue pressure put on man and beast alike had brought about a major change.  

The stresses built up on the Hinter-lander's caused a rift, one that resulted in to the weaker clans being forced out.  Banished from the tribe they moved westward across a great mountain chain where the land at the time was less desirable -- drizzly wet, fog entrenched lands.   At the end of the forced migrations only one clan of Hinter-lander's remained in the Northeast for many thousands of years-- the Mammoti... the strongest of the lot.   

Finally the day came when the stresses proved even too great for the Mammoti to contend with, a stress brought on when the receding ocean had opened a new pass large and flat enough for the great hulking mammoth to traverse, passing over to the other side of the mountain chain and to the lands of the Hinter-lander clans who had been banished there a long time ago.  

So much time and environmental differences separated the two Hinter-lander groups that they no longer remembered or recognized one another.  The Northwest Hinter-lander's had lived in a predominantly cool foggy habitat for so long that they evolved a much lighter skin, large round pale blue eyes circled by white, their short hair a mix of blond and red, their face, nose and limbs long and their stature tall,  while their counterparts to the Northeast whose habitat had been colder and drier, lands that for much of the year had been encrusted with deep layers of snow, had evolved them into hairier darker skinned individuals with black-brown almond shaped eyes circled by a light brown, their hair short black and tightly curled and noses so stubby that they all but disappeared into fat laden cheeks, their short muscular limbs protruding from a broad trunk.  Any resemblance between the two Hinter-lander groups had all but faded over time.

The Mammoti had no other choice but to pack up and follow the Mammoth, an attempt that proved futile due to the Northwestern Hinter-lander's having become such a powerful group in their own right and in a land that they knew like the back of their hands. They would not give up their land to the foreigners without a fight. After many generations of bloody clashes, the Mammoti were forced to retreat, leaving only one route for them to follow.

When it became apparent that they couldn't follow their prey of choice to the northeast, the Mammoti sent out scouts in hopes of finding an alternative.  What they found, was a vast herd of reindeer on a migratory journey, venturing along the eastern side of the mountain chain and heading south.  Out of desperation, the cold, hungry and battle fatigued Mammoti headed south in pursuit of the herd.  For them, hunting the reindeer was a step down, but unless they were prepared to starve and freeze to death, they had little choice but to swallow their pride.

After a long and treacherous journey, they arrived at the reindeers migratory limit,  a land that the Mammoti found too hot for the most part and so the cool dark caves was a necessary reprieve and home to shelter their young.   

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Of all the herd animals, only the reindeer were able to withstand the rigours of a  migration that extended from North to south resulting in many of the Mammoti perishing along route as they struggled to keep up with the swift moving herd making their way while the land and rivers were still barely frozen.  It was no wonder then, that when the Hinter-landers finally arrived they made the decision to  stay even as the reindeer returned to their northern migratory limits in the fall.

The reindeer was the most prolific of all the herd animals, well equipped to survive in both worlds.  In the south the abundantly rich pastures and an accessible sea that satisfied their craving for salt, was their true Eden-- a place where they calved and gained a reserve of fat to sustain them for a good part of the winter.  Their northern land being a bare refuge in winter, a land that becomes pure hell with the onset of spring and as their most fearsome predator comes back to life -- hordes of biting, blood sucking, disease bearing insects that make wolves, lions and bears of the southern land, pale in comparison.  The insects forcing the herds into a panicked frenzy that served as part of nature's clock-work ensuring a timely migration before early summer rains broke the ice from rivers and the great swath of land became impassible. Even the recent introduction of the two legged predator wasn't enough to deter the reindeer whose way of life was so hard wired that with the first signs of fall their fur thicken atop a great accumulation of fat, both of which created  unbearable heat that drove them once again in frenzied droves racing to greet the welcoming arms of the north wind until  arriving at their northern limit-- a vast land encrusted with lichen... fit to be eaten by only a few creatures, the reindeer being one.     

The Mammoti soon realized that they were not alone in their new land.  Two  other groups had migrated here long before they -- a small off shoot from their enemies in the Northwest who referred to themselves as the Southern Hinter-lander's, and then the second group who were even stranger than the first, were known as the River People.  The Southern Hinter-landers were more similar in appearance to the Mammoti, but still, the differences were enough that each consider the other foreign.  The River People were vastly different than either Hinter-lander tribe, their tall lean bodies weighing nearly half that of the average Hinter-lander.  

The River People and Southern Hinter-lander's had lived in near proximity to one another for over two hundred winters before the arrival of the ones from the Northeast, keeping their distance for the most part except for once a year during early summer, they came together to make a single trade.  The River People trading  finely honed obsidian daggers for the right to venture on Hinter-lander territory in order to capture a handful of reindeer that had just calved.  It was essential for their survival in this new land that was lacking in the intense sunlight that they were used to from their ancestral home. During the first few years of living on the new land, many of their people died from lack of sun, but then they learned that supplementing their diet with oily fish was a  means of staving off the deficiency, as did the rich milk of reindeer a supplement they reserved for their babies and  younger children.

Other than that, the territories of the two peoples were vastly different.  The reindeer preferred to stay away from the swampy salt marshes that could bog them down, and so the Hinter-landers who hunted the reindeer had no reason to venture to this land that was also the domain of the River People.  The fact that the two peoples didn't compete with one another, and that they even benefitted from trading, meant they could live in peace and so prosper.   

Many of the creatures in their new land and waters were no more native than either of the two peoples who had come to live there, having been forced to immigrate out of necessity.  Such was the case with the salmon that had fled their now permanently frozen Arctic waters, a fish that  leapt along the shallow banks of the river having come to spawn in adjacent marshes that became inundated by sea.  

For the River People, and except for the hardship brought on by the lack of warmth and diminished sunlight, the new land was a reprieve from a once bountiful homeland that became ravaged by drought... from a once vibrant ancestral river now stagnant and poisoned by rotting death that in turn fostered a breeding ground for disease bearing insects that preyed on their people relentlessly.  Finally it was with the disappearance of a main source of food that forced them  out.  The ancestral  People relying heavily on the eggs of birds and water fowl that had migrated back and forth from winter lands further south in order to nest in the spring lands along a great river lined with once bountiful mangroves that that had made up the ancestral home of the River people. 

With the decline, the great migratory flocks began to pass by their usual nesting grounds, continuing their trek over the mangroves and to a new nesting ground somewhere across the inland Sea that lay to the north.  And so it came to pass that the ancestral River people finally moved, following the flocks, crossing along a chain of volcano's that divided the sea in two, the eastern sea land-locked as a result while the other opened to a channel that emptied into a vast open Ocean.  It was a long migration, one fraught with lava flows that forced them to precariously weave their way in and around each volcano, so that by the end of it, their provisions were completely gone as were many of the people.  Only the strongest and luckiest survived.  

Having arrived on the Northern shore of the twin seas, the survivors scouted along the shore line for miles, hoping to find the migratory flocks ... somewhere along one of the many rivers.  And find they did,... at least in part.  Many  miles to the west of the chain of volcano's and running adjacent to a great string of mountains  was a tidal river  surrounded by marshland as far as the eye could see, and a bounty of nesting waterfowl. 

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The South- Hinter-lander's relied on the herd animals-- namely the reindeer as their staple source for all their needs.  They were primarily meat eaters, with only ten percent of their diet consisting of various plant foods.  Every spring they waited for the reindeer to make their migratory return, a time when they could swiftly and safely travel across still frozen land and rivers.   

   

And then the fateful day had come when the Mammoti followed the reindeer, a move that would come to break the fragile balance of peace and prosperity enjoyed so long by the other two groups.  The Mammoti were intent on hunting the reindeer and thus put themselves in direct competition with the Southern Hinter-landers who were not nearly as powerful as their close relatives that had lived in the Northwest.   Numerous clashes ensued as each struggled for dominance over the rich but limited area, and in short time the Southern Hinter-landers were overwhelmed, with the invaders slaughtering the men and taking the  women as slaves.  The Northeastern Hinter-landers claimed the new land as well as the name of the conquered people, becoming the Mammoti of the Southern Hinter-land tribe.  

The River people were aware of the war being waged by the two groups and the slaughter of the ones they considered friend, and they feared for themselves with  many of their own people having disappeared, presumably killed by the ruthless Mammoti.  For this reason the River People sought a particular place of refuge… a place where they could remain hidden and safe right under the very noses of their enemy. 

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The conquering Mammoti had been aware of the River people on their arrival, but hadn't concerned themselves with what appeared to them as a weak, sickly lot, focussing their attention instead on the more formidable tribe that looked more like themselves ... the ones that positioned their camps near the herds of reindeer that they wished to hunt for themselves.  

Once the Southern Hinter-landers were conquered, the attackers turned their attention to stalking the small groups of River People, although not to kill them as the River People believed, but to capture as slaves that their women folk could use to make living in caves more bearable, not to mention a means of guaranteeing a continual supply of the beautifully honed obsidian instruments and weapons that the River People were so skilled at making.

The remaining River People had made their escape in the nick of time, given that the Mammoti had planned a final raid that was thwarted when they found the villages empty, believing that the much diminished tribe had packed up and left for good.  Little did the Mammoti know that the River Peoples were not that far away, but managed to keep secret the fact that they were nestled in the middle of what from the mainland appeared to be flat islands situated in the mouth of the tidal river, islands that were in fact coral encrusted volcano's long asleep, an ancient chain that had worn over a great period of time when they had been inundated by a much higher sea.  It all came about with the River People discovering that their huts of tightly bound reeds coiled around in similar fashion to making their baskets, could also float well when upside down.  The coracles boats enabled them to make their way to their new island homes.

Within a few generations after their move, the sea changed-- slowly but steadily rising, forcing the River People to busy themselves with building supports for the otherwise crumbling walls surrounding their villages, and as with anything new, the industry was given a name, and so important did it become to the people that they changed the name of their tribe to reflect this, and so from this day forward, they were known as the Dyke-landers.

Chapter 4: The Sacrifice

Thoughts of her son intruded Jayah's mind. She could still feel where his small fingers had squeezed around her ankle, his feeble attempt at trying to stop her from leaving earlier that morning. She was proud of Zahr, barely four winters and yet he knew enough to not make a sound as his tears brimmed and his eyes pleaded in silences. Jayah had managed a weak smile, her eyes trying to console as they pierced into his.

She thought of her mate, Atahr, and the promise she had made to him. “The Bahr-Bahr won't find me,” Jayah's fingers moved deftly in the sign language of her people. “After all, am I not the most adept among our people at covering a trail"? with this, she slung the satchel of provisions over her shoulder.

“Jayah,” Atahr pleaded, “you're in no condition…” his hands started before silenced by her own. Jayah brought his hands to the front of her tunic , a patchwork of cured fish hides, thin, supple, and stretched tight against her swollen belly.

“It's time," was all she could muster before her belly constricted, pushing into his hand. Atar's brow furrowed tightly as he felt her wince with pain.

“It is foolishness to think…” again Atahr was cut off from trying to reason with Jayah, her hands holding tightly to his. Atar looked into the eyes of his mate, pulling away, “I will go with you ”, he managed to sign.

“No! our Clan needs you, Zahr needs you"!

Atahr couldn't argue with that. “Take Yahnna at least,” he pleaded, desperately seeking a middle ground.

The entire clan stood nearby, watching and waiting. Sixty-six individuals made up the members of their clan, thirty-three adults in the prime of life and the rest children and elderly. Yahnnah stood among them, a stolid figure. She appeared regal, though her attire was no different than the others -- a variegated blend of green and brown fish hide, a special garb designed to camouflage. It was her stance, the deep lines of her weathered face, her knowing eyes… wisdom and authority permeated her entire being.

Jayah shook her head, “No, Yahnna is the last of the Shaman healers among our Clan… she is High Priestess to Ayah, leader of the Council of Elders, she must remain with the Clan and take on the role as Chief in my absence.”

Atahr was pulling at straws now, “Ayah forbids anyone from venturing away from the clan alone” he signed , “you must have someone accompany you” .

Jayah rested a hand on her swollen belly, “I'm not alone Atar, and remember, that as Shaman I'm allowed to bend this rule if circumstances warrant it, such as this circumstance . Atar was no match against her will, and besides, as their leader, she had the last say. Atar conceded, lowering his eyes to indicate this. Both knew that there was no more time for debating .

Jayah turned to her son standing nearby. Zahr was shaking, clutching a small figure made of tightly bound grass no larger than his hand, it glistened with his tears as he held it to his lips to stifle a cry.

His mother had told him that the little image of Ayah would help him to be strong. She had taught him how to hold the figure to his lips, whenever he felt an urge to cry. It was important to traverse the forest in silence, not wanting to draw the attention of mega beasts and other predators that scoured the mainland in search of easy prey. And that's precisely what they were at the moment, easy prey, as they moved through the forest with children and elderly.

For the first time in generations the entire River Clan made their way to Kwanzaa, a gathering of the clans that occurred every second year, but consisting usually only those between the ages of 13 and 50 winters who were fit enough to travel. This time was different, after the gathering the Dyke-lander tribe would move off in search of a a new home. leaving their beloved islands for good.

Jayah looked to her mate and saw that he too had been watching Zahr. Jayah could see the pain in his eyes and the mans love for his child that was equal to her own. She knew that nothing more needed to be said, she turned, shifted the satchel on her back, then made her way to the edge of the small clearing, and was about to disappear into the forest when she felt small hands wrap around her foot. Zahr clung with all his might, his body and feet dragging, trying to hold his mother back. Jayah pulled him up, shifting him awkwardly over her belly so that his tear stained cheeks pressed in the crook of her shoulder. Jayah lightly kissed the unruly mat of his sand brown hair, untangled his fingers from her own and placed him squirming, into the waiting arms of his father.

For what seemed an eternal moment, Jayah's eyes lingered on her family, to Zahr, Atar and then Yahnnah, before taking her leave. She didn't have to look back to know that Zahr's small hands were grasping at the empty air behind her… and it was everything she could do to keep her resolve and not turn back.

Despite her cumbersome belly, Jayah slipped gracefully between the trees as slick and sure footed as a cave lion. She headed north, away from her Clan and the enemy who pursued them.

With Zahr still in his arms, Atar moved along with the rest of the clan, glancing back now and then in hopes of seeing Jayah... hoping that she had changed her mind.

The Clans destination was to the west, to a place they called Ursa-maja, a mighty gorge and jagged lime stone cliffs riddled with caves, special caves that were inaccessible to predators, including the Bahr-Bahr hunters. The Clans people were avid climbers, and very familiar with the caves -- a maze of tunnels with many hidden entrances.

Atar could not stop worrying about Jayah, he hoped that her decision had been the right one and that by travelling alone she truly would be better off ... that she would find a safe place to give birth, recoup her strength and then meet up with the clan later that same day.

###

Shortly after having parted and knowing that the clan were well on their way, Jayah retraced her steps, returning to the small circular clearing where they had all stood only moments before. She perused the area, carefully combing along the boundary of trees. After a short while, she found her Clans parting trail. The evidence was scant, but it was there.

A look of concern furrowed Jayah's brow… ‘ If I can pick up their trail, than so will the Bahr-Bahr.’

Swiftly, Jayah made preparations, setting the first stage of her plan by creating another trail heading south, one that the Bahr-Bahr hunters would find and hopefully follow. Then for the second stage, she pulled up her tunic and removed her loin cloth that she had thickly padded with moss the night before... moss now drenched with her blood. Stuffing it in her satchel she flung it high so that it landed onto a tree branch and out of sight. She moved deeper into the wood-- a stand of mostly larch, blood flowing freely down her legs as she made her way.

After awhile, the larch gave way to a thick stand of hardwood, mostly l sprawling oak that she wound her way around until she was out in the open and able to see beyond the gentle slope of the land to the tangle of uprooted trees and beyond that a wide beach of boulders and then sand, from which protruded an outcrop, a giant finger of land pointing into the sea.

Before Jayah could get to the border of tangled trees she had to pass through a patch of tightly knit shrub that she didn't pay much attention to other than the quick decision to push her way through instead of going around. Jayah passed through not only once, but back and forth several times, leaving a wide swath that was sure to lure the Bahr-Bahr along... that is, if they had taken the bait.

The mid morning sun pierced through cracks in the cloud, leaving purple and red streaks on the horizon, further evidence of a brewing storm. 'Sacred-Pine'... or "Sapin" for short, was the name given to the outcrop of land that was sacred to her people as all outcrops were, but this one more so because at the top of the point extending into the sea stood a lone pine that had survived more than two hundred winters. The tree stood at the very top of a knoll at a point that jutted into the sea. It mocked the heavens, reaching into the sky higher than any other thing, living or innate, for miles around. That lightning had not struck it down was in itself a miracle, one suggesting that Ayah held the tree in high esteem. Many tantalizing stories were conjured up around camp fires by story tellers, each applying their own particular twist at trying to guess Ayah's reason for allowing the tree to get away with breaking one of her golden rules.

For a brief moment, Jayah hesitated on beginning the climb, after all, it was also forbidden to travel to such a place during a storm, or as with the case now, a storm that loomed nearby. This was a rule that even a Shaman was not allowed to break, but as Jayah thought of her family and the danger they were in, she pressed on. This was something that Jayah had always suspected of herself-- that she would go against Ayah herself if it meant saving her loved ones.

###

It had not been easy for the Clan to move on without Jayah, but the situation was dire, with Bahr-Bahr hunters in hot pursuit, and so under the circumstances, it seemed the rational thing to do. Her plan made sense in that it truly was less likely for the Bahr-Bahr to find a single person who could hide their trail much easier than a group, and as Jayah herself claimed, she was the most adept among the people at covering a trail.

Many o the clan were convinced that Jayah would find a safe place where she could then give birth with no complications given that her son Zahr had come into the world with no difficulty. Regardless, a woman in labour would slow them down, leaving the entire clan at risk.

###

On the previous day and only two days after having arrived on the mainland, the scouts returned to the clan with reports of their trail having been picked up by hunters, a group of 23 led by a red haired Bahr-Bahr, scars raking one side of his face. This was very bad news for the Clan who feared this Bahr-Bahr more than any other, and so those most skilled were put to the task at covering the Clans trail.

All their efforts were to no avail as the Bahr-Bahr continued to gain ground. The Clan pushed forward even as the light grew dim, feeling their way into the shadows, buying themselves a little more time. When they stopped for the night, their sleep was restless and when they had awoke, it was still too dark to travel so they took the time to fill themselves with the meddly of dried berries, fruit, seeds, nuts, honey and fat mixed with dry salted salmon, a combination of food that would give them optimal energy to last the rest of the day. Jayah waited for all to finish and while the sky was still peppered with stars she approached the clan with her dilemma.

It was not easy for Jayah to lie to her people, especially to Atar, Yahnnah, and Zahr, but she had no other choice, not if she wanted her true plan... the one she kept hidden from them, to succeed.
In the light of red coals that still burned in their fire pit. the Clan gathered to see why their leader had summoned them. Jayah started off slowly, her hands making signs with exaggerated precision in order that all could see what she needed to convey.

"It's time... the little one comes today."
No sooner had Jayah signed the words when another contraction seized her, causing her to wince as she continued. "I won't be continuing, but will find a save place to give birth and meet you at our destination before nightfall... it's best for all... and it's best for me and the baby".

Jayah knew that not all would be pleased with her plan, especially choosing to venture out alone, but she had to convince them that there was no other choice. "carrying me as my labour escalates is not an option," her signs were bold and convincing, " and discarding food in order to maintain speed is also not an option". She stopped, giving time for people to absorb it all.

It was indeed true. The Clan carried with them their entire ration of foraged foods, sustenance necessary for surviving the coming winter.

In her moment of silence Jayah had another contraction, one that she hid from the others this time... she didn't want them to know how close together they were and so realize the danger she was in.

Chapter 3: The Journey

The lay of the land had changed, gentle tree lined hills giving way to steeper slopes that were barren for the most part, save for a few wind dwarfed spruce jutting through a thin layer of soil gathered in the nooks and crannies of dramatic limestone outcrops.

Yahnnah had taken on the role of clan leader in the absence of Jayah, and in so doing continued to follow behind the others even though it was no longer necessary to cover their trail since their enemy who could not manage such steep slopes would give up the chase. They slowed their pace, taking precautions now to better ensure the safety of the younger children as they continued. They were near their destination.  Within moments, the land levelled off and the last remnant of forest disappeared.

The crest was a stretch of flat shimmering lime stone that overlooked a majestic gorge. It was deep, vast and beautiful, and on the far side Yahnnah could see cliffs pocked with caves.  It was a welcome sight, all were safe... that is, except for Jayah.  Yahnnah searched worriedly among the members of her clan until she caught sight of Atar, Jayah’s mate, and for a moment their eyes met, revealing their mutual concern.

The final leg of the journey would be much easier now, but a storm hovered dangerously close, evoking enough concern for Yahnnah to motion for the others to pick up the pace.

Suddenly, the North wind dissipated until an eery stillness swept the land. Yahnnah stopped in her tracks and held her breath... waiting.  It was only a moment before she felt the gust, and along with it the strong scent of sea and taste of salt in the air. The wind had turned, coming now from the south. And then came the bone chilling sound, a gurgling roar, and even though she knew that it posed no danger in itself, her body recoiled out of shear instinct. As Yahnna steadied her trembling heart, the babies and youngest children began to whimper and cry with fright.

The roar was due to a natural phenomena that emanated from the bottom of the gorge where large waves crashed onto deep layers of oversized round boulders, forcing them to roll back and forth... in and out of a very large cave, all the sounds combining in a crescendo, an echo so terrifying that it sent the hairs at the nape of the neck standing on end.  The sound mimicked perfectly, the gurgling roar of a charging Ursus, magnified a hundred times. 

Ursus was a fearsome predator, a great long toothed cave bear that roamed the mainland, the same fearsome creature known by their enemy as bahr.  The sound that Yahnnah and her clan now heard only occurred under certain conditions- at mid tide and accompanied by a strong south wind, one powerful enough to move wave and rock.

Of all Ayahs creatures living on the land, aside from the Bahr-Bahr Hunters, ursus posed the greatest danger to the Dyke-lander's.  Most predators avoided their people, but not ursus. As for the great cave bear, it was not able to discern the difference between the Dyke-lander's and Hinter-lander's, and if this were possible, it wouldn't be bothered with the former who posed no threat or competition, not like the Hinter-lander tribe who hunted the reindeer and frequently slaughtered the cave bears in order to steal their homes and warm winter fur.

The Dyke-lander's situated their villages among small the islands perched in the mouth of a great River that they named after the Salmon that returned every year to spawn, and from which Yahnnah's people owed much of their survival. The same river was known to the Hinter-landers in their own sign language, as the "E-Bahr"-- the Cave Bear River, because this was the place where the Bahr lived, the river and surrounding land providing all its sustenance-- the reindeer and salmon. All those living within or near this River, be it Dyke-lander, Hinter-lander, Bahr or salmon, were misplaced creatures, their original homes continents away, swallowed by either drought or glacial ice, forcing them to converge here in this foreign territory where each had carved out a precarious niche.

The home of the Dyke-landers was everything to the tribe, sacred lands where Ayah had led them many generations before. Islands that were once a chain of active volcanoes, sleeping now, and encrusted with layers of coral from episodes of history when inundated by sea. It offered a strange existence-- peaceful homes nestled in craters that would otherwise be swamped by the sea once again except for the many labour intensive dykes that reinforced the walls that kept the sea at bay.

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Jayah was fifteen winters when Yahnna, decided to take the girl under her wing as acolyte, and although she didn't usually take on anyone so young, there was something about Jayah that made her very special-- Ayah had gifted her with the inner-eye, the ability to see future events that the Great Mother Goddess wished to reveal, and as such, she was more than worthy of the opportunity to apprentice as Shaman.

Before Jayah had come along the gift was thought to have been lost, with the residual stories so old that many had come to regard them as only myth, while others believed that Ayah had all but deserted them, cursed for a myriad of unknown sins. Only a small handful believed as Yahnnah-- that Ayah had simply chose to withhold the gift for a greater purpose... such as a means to introduce a much greater gift that would otherwise be rejected by a people too young to reason with.  It was a concept that Yahnnah saw written in areas of life that surrounded her, one area in particular being the early stage of pregnancy when many women of their tribe developed a profound aversion to food and to the extent that what little they managed to swallow, came right back up. At one time the Dyke-landers had once regarded this as a curse as well and during Yahnnah's younger days as Shaman she used to worry along with the rest, as the young mothers to be shed weight until they were a mere shadow of what they once were, their swollen bellies protruding more noticeably than pregnant women who had no problem eating.  As time went on though, and as Yahnnah became more experienced as Shaman, she took note of the fact that the women afflicted were more likely to bring their babies to full term than the other women, and with this new awareness all came to recognize it no longer as an affliction, but as a gift.  Because of this, Yahnnah came to hope that Ayah had not cursed her people, but that they were not yet able to see the greater picture.  Yahnnah encouraged her people to consider the possibility that Ayah was simply witholding the gift of the inner eye as a means of introducing another hidden blessing that she would reveal to her children when the time was right.

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Yahnnah stood at the edge of the cliff looking down, watching as yet another giant wave gathered up boulders that lined the shore, smashing some against cliffs while cascading others along and into the great cave hidden below.  As the gurgling roar sounded, Yahnna was seized with profound insight involving a dream that Jayah had many winters ago, a dream that Yahnnah had just suddenly come to realize as a vision of the future.

The passing of eleven winters had faded the memory that the old Shaman now desperately tried to piece together: it was a cold winters night, when a very young Jayah had waken in fright, her body convulsing with sobs. Yahnna had heard the girl cry out and had immediately come to her side, holding up a stone lamp that revealed in its flickering glow, Jayah's wide glassy eyes and frantic fingers. It was hard for the old Shaman to figure out the garbled signs, so she placed her free hand on the girls shoulder, hoping that the warmth would help steady the girl.

Even though Jayah seemed awake, Yahnnah could see that a part of her was asleep, still lingering somewhere between the land of dreams and wakefulness. Yahnnah cooed, her gnarled fingers making comforting gestures meant to coax her young pupil awake, "It's only a dream Jayah... you can wake up now", but to no avail, forcing Yahnnah to sit and wait patiently for Jayah to awaken.

Now, 11 winters later and as the next gurgling roar played out in the background, Yahnna pieced together some of the more poignant details of the dream:

• ... Jayah had heard the echoing sound of a charging Ursus;
• ... thunder could be heard above a mist that had rolled in;
• ... through the mist Jayah could see a tall, lone pine;
• ... a strong scent of juniper permeated the air;
• ... a man appeared, his face scarred and eyes filled with hate;
• ... there was a baby, Jayah's baby that had just been born.

As the dream played out again in Yahnna's mind, she picked up her pace, hurriedly trying to catch up with the others who were making their way along an upper ridge of the gorge.  She couldn't help but see the parallels to events unfolding at the moment to  events portrayed in Jayah's dream.... a vision of the future, a future that was right now.

Yahnna's thoughts turned to events of the last two days, all the little discrepancies she had picked up on and had idly pushed aside, now made sense, and it dawned on her the reality of what Jayah had been up to. Filled with despair Yahnnah scolded herself for not paying closer attention, and if Jayah and her baby should die at the hands of the Bahr-Bahr, Yahnna knew that it would be because she failed to protect the one person she loved most.

When the last gurgling roar subsided and things quieted, Yahnna called out to the others.  It's not very often that vocals are used to communicate, the sign language of the clan was fluent, with fingers and hands far superior than rudimentary under developed vocal chords.  In fact, Ayah had laws against crying out, especially on the main land where predators roamed in great number.  However, as with many of Ayah's rules there were exceptions, and with the case of Yahnnah now calling out, time was of the essence... if they were to save Jayah, she had to act fast.  The sound of her voice pierced the air, bringing every adult member of the clan to an abrupt halt, each turning to see a frantic Yahnnah pacing back and forth.

“Where would Jayah go?” Yahnna questioned to herself, her gnarled fingers rubbing the creases over a tightly knitted brow. Yahnna rattled her brains, and finally beseeched the great Mother Goddess to intervene. And the answer came. There was one thing that Yahnnah had forgotten, a final detail of Jayah's dream that came rushing to her conscious: 

...Jayah legs had felt as though on fire.

Yahnna remembered that Jayah had repeated this over and over... in broken hard to understand signs as the young girl periodically stopped to rub and pat her legs as though trying to quench the burning she thought was still there. It was the final clue that enlightened Yahnnah as to Jayah's whereabouts.

The other clues of Jayah's dream didn't make sense at first, after all, juniper was found at the shoreline and pines trees further in land. How could Jayah be in two places at once? It was the final clue that enabled Yahnna to understand, and all because she herself had a similar experience where her own legs felt as though on fire. It occurred when on a foraging expedition to the mainland and as she made the decision to break away from the group, taking time to venture along a nearby shore in hunt of a certain berry that she often used in tinctures, and although they weren't usually picked during this time of year, she thought that some growing in more sheltered areas would be ripe enough.

It wasn't a good thing to venture from the group, and in fact anyone other than a Shaman doing the same thing would be penalized for breaking one of Ayah's golden rules, but knowing that their food quota was met and that her repertoire of herbal medicine was at an all time low, Yahnna decided that this was one of the moments that as Shaman, she could bend the rule and break from the group.

To save time Yahnna had decided to take a short cut, a route never taken before. The diversion went along uneventfully until she came to a cluster of low lying shrubs that she wasn't familiar with. It wasn't entirely unusual to see new plants appear as old ones died off or moved away to more suitable land. The shrubs looked harmless enough with clusters of beautifully scented bright pink flowers shaped like stars. It was a big patch that would take time to circle around, and she was in a bit of a hurry so she passed through the middle with not so much as a few faint scratches that criss-crossed her legs, and when discovered a patch of berries on the other side, she proceeded to gather the riper of the lot, filling her basket.  It wasn't until she began her return that she suddenly realized the shrubs weren't as innocent as they appeared, the pollen possessing a slow release toxin that penetrated the scratches and packed a mean punch, leaving her legs burning so intensely that even water couldn't put out. Not knowing if it was a poison that would eventually kill her, Yahnnah move along as fast as she dared. The burning eventually subsided to a red itchy rash, and a lesson well learned.

Yahnnah made a point of remembering the shrubs location by recognizing prominent features of the immediate area, signposts that would serve to remind others travelling in the area, including herself. A particular feature of the area being what sounded like the blood curdling roar of a charging Ursus, except it wasn't the great cave bear, but a place similar to where she stood at the very moment, a point of land that jutted into the sea at the base of which was a cave, not as large as the one immediately below where she now stood, but non-the-less, it generated the same gurgling roar when circumstances were right-- when the tide was mid way and waves powerful enough to roll the boulders in and out with force. This place was doubly sacred, because at the very tip of the point and directly above the cave atop a knoll stood a tall, lone pine .

Chapter 2: Baited Breath

Time was precious, and yet every inch of her body screamed in rebellion until she had no choice but to stop.  Doubled over, Jayah waited for the pain to subside and her breathing to calm.  The headband she dawned on earlier was saturated and sweat now burned  her eyes.  She yanked it free as her mind raced, wondering, had they taken the bait, and if so how close were they?  Jayah dried the headband in a patch of peaty soil and then strapped it back in place.  While securing the double knot, she was already in a full sprint.

Strategy was everything, including the section of forest she had chosen. The trees were mostly larch, their soft willowy branches much easier to push her way through, and their needles were bright yellow this time of year and so easy to distinguish from the intermingling spruce and fir.  The larch gave way to hardwood, large sprawling trees that she had to then weave her way around until finally bursting out.

Eyes squinting against the sudden brightness, Jayah climbed on a heap of fallen trees, remnants left in the wake of hurricanes. The better vantage point enabled her to take in the surrounding area. The distant rumbling had told her as much, that a storm was brewing.  She spotted the dark billowing clouds and tell-tale streaks of grey beneath, rain falling silently into the sea.  Jayah breathed a sigh of relief. It was far enough away and the shore remaining dry was essential to her plan.

Jayah crossed the bramble in good time.  Her speed was an advantage over her pursuers who excel in brute strength but lack in speed and agility.  Halting at the section of stoney beach, she perched herself on a large boulder, scouring her surroundings until to the right she found what she was looking for. The trick now was to get there without leaving a trail.  Jayah chose the unstable smaller boulders to walk on so in the event that any became stained with blood, she could simply roll them over.

While in the forest it had been easy for Jayah to set the stage of making it appear as though a group had passed through instead of a single person, but continuing the illusion while crossing the sandy beach would be much more difficult. First though, Jayah had to make it across the stoney section of beach and to the pile of driftwood. Again this is where her agility paid off, moving swiftly from one wobbly boulder to the next until she arrived without incident. Rummaging through the pile she found two that would suit her purpose, and then retracing her steps, she made sure to turn over the blood stained stones.

Arriving back to the fallen trees, Jayah set out toward her destination, crossing another section of boulders, but this time choosing the larger ones, no longer concerned with covering her trail. Back and forth she moved, retracing her steps in order to mark a wide trail of blood splattered stones, making it appear to those who pursued that their prey consisted of many wounded individuals

As Jayah reached the last leg of her journey, she stared across the golden sands that stretched to the craggy outcrop that towered more than 65 feet straight up. As with many outcrops on the shoreline, this one became an island as the tide rose, a feature of great value to her people, enabling them on many occasion to evade hunters like the ones pursuing Jayah at the very moment. The outcrop extended to the entire width of the sandy beach, its very tip touching the sea. Jayah was more than familiar with this outcrop. She knew that it ranged from 100-200 feet across and was also relatively flat on top, and so enabling a variety of flora— moss, juniper, low lying shrubs and at the very tip that hung over the sea, one very tall pine. That a single tree had been able to grow to such enormous size and on such a vulnerable perch was nothing short of miraculous, and because of this Jayah's people considered it sacred, a symbol of survival against the odds in much the same way that they too survived against the odds, protected by Ayah, the great mother goddess of all.  Jayah's clan believed that when Ayah went out of her way to offer special protection to any of her creation, it was for a unique purpose.

The top of the outcrop was Jayah's final destination, and it is also where she expected to breath her last, and this was a good thing she thought, better that I die here at this sacred place and at the hands of an enemy than the death that awaits me otherwise.

Jayah moved on the sand as she did on the stones, running back and forth to create what then appeared to be a group instead of just herself. After a final pass, Jayah inspected her work. The effect was convincing, the indentations made by the driftwood were similar to those left by her feet, and once again, making it appear as though a small group had passed through.  Had the sand been wet, her foot prints would have been too defined for the same strategy to be convincing. Everything was going as she had hoped.

Jayah faced the cliff and began her ascent, a climb that under usual circumstances would be easy, but she was tired, weak from loss of blood, 9 months pregnant and in labour.  She willed herself, pushing beyond shear exhaustion all for the sake of buying time for her loved ones to move safely away from the hunters that had been pursuing them.  As a means of drawing the predators away from their prey, she had set herself up as bait.

The troop of hunters lingered at the edge of the forest where all, save but one had their eyes trained on the ominous sky that hung over the sea. Dorag had arrived first, immediately putting himself to the task of inspecting the fallen trees and scanning for any sign of their prey. Then he spotted something-- a splatter of blood and then another further ahead and then following in a straight line and well beyond the stoney beach, he could see that the smooth sand had been disturbed.

Dorag turned back to join the huddle his troop had formed. He was eager to get on with the chase, but from the faces of his comrades he knew not to push it. His clan had their own set of beliefs some of which were similar to that of their enemy, including a Goddess named “Ayah”.  Both peoples had a healthy fear of the natural elements, and at the very top of the list were storms.  Being on a beach while thunder and lightning loomed nearby was asking for trouble.  Ayah didn't suffer fools lightly as she made abundantly clear time and time again by punishing those who dared to break her sacred laws.

At the moment there was no immediate danger, with the storm still out to sea, but this didn't make Dorag's men feel any less uneasy.  Dorag addressed his men in the sign language of their people, displaying confidence in the movement of his hands: the wind from the north grows stronger.  It was all that he needed to convey.  The men continued to sign among themselves.  It was true, the wind from the north generally grew stronger with the sun's descent and so it was unusual for storms to reach land especially during this time of year as the north wind picked up momentum.  Still, weather patterns had changed drastically in the last few years,  and so this was more fuel added to their fears.

Dorag had to admit to the black clouds chilling effect.  He also had more of a reason to continue than the rest of his troop, and so stepping away from the huddle was a way to show respect and give his men the opportunity to come to a consensus without the pressure of their leaders presence.  Even though Dorag was highly respected as a leader, all were more than familiar with history repeating itself-- the countless tragedies involving over zealous leaders nearing their goal.  They were cautious and rightfully so, rash decisions more often than not, led to death.  Each hunter was there on their own volition and so could leave at any given moment without fear of retribution.  It was simply their way, and this was the last thing Dorag wanted to see happen.

At the sand Dorag inspected the indentations. He figured 8 sets of foot prints. This was good news, not enough to be outnumbered and yet more than enough to warrant continuing the chase ... that is, if enough of his men chose to continue.  Even if outnumbered, this often didn't deter the hunters, each of whom towered a good foot and weighing as much as 100 pounds heavier than the average adult male of the River Clan.  Dorag figured that if a dozen of his men decided to continue, it would be enough, but anything below that, and though it would be a hard thing for him to do, he would call off the hunt.

That Dorag's troop had grown to 23 members in the past two years, was astounding. Much of this had to do with his success as leader, but it was the story behind the four scars raking one side of his face that played a significant part in his becoming a leader of the Bahr-Bahr clan in the first place.

It was a law that no one dared to defy, new initiates were required to join one of the many troops designated to hunt the bahr while also foraging for the needs of their people. After a year, the best among them moved up in rank to hunt the others, another formidable foe. And now, Dorag had enough victories under his belt that it would take only two or three more hunting excursions... or a single big one, that would entitle him to move up in rank and join the Mammoti.

The Mammoti and the Bahr-Bahr are two clans that make up a single tribe, with the latter being subordinate to the ruling Mammoti. As part of the ruling clan, a young Mammoti male by birth right alone was entitled to join the rank of reindeer hunter on turning 13 winters, a benefit that enabled these youth a much better survival rate than their counterparts of the Bahr-Bahr clan. The Bahr-Bahr didn't question their lot, but simply regarded it as Ayah's chosen design, where the weaker gives way to the stronger. The Mammoti were not only greater in number, but the majority were exceptionally bigger and stronger than the Bahr-Bahr, and so rebellion was out of the question. The greatest hope of a young Bahr-Bahr male would be to one day join the Mammoti as reindeer hunter, a status and occupation that would elevate their life expectancy to 30 years and beyond, giving them more than a fighting chance of attaining a hearth and winning a mate who would bear children of one's own spirit, THIS, was the highest achievement.

The present 23 members of Dorag's troop were mostly aged 14 winters, with the rest being either 15 or 16. All were in the prime of life, and if fate would be in his favour, this raid on 8 River people, would result in little loss... maybe only two or three from his troop. Dorag was so intent on keeping an eye on the tree line in anticipation of what his men would decide, that he didn't stop to dwell very long on where the foot prints led and all that it could mean, he simply watched in jubilation as he counted every one of his troop emerging from the forest and on their way to join him.

Together they followed the tracks. There was a lot of blood, much more than before, scattered enough so that it appeared as though several members of the group were wounded. For a moment Dorag had questioned this, what could have happened... how were so many wounded?  But then he didn't think any more of it, after all, in their brutally rugged land, it could be one of many things.  As they followed the trail, Dorag also questioned why the tracks didn't veer back towards the wood as he thought would be the case once their prey realized where they were.  Instead the tracks made a bee line straight for the cliff, and he couldn't help but wonder at his good fortune, believing that his enemy were obviously not aware of what he was aware of.

The River Clan were adept at climbing, hence one of the reasons why they aimed for outcrops surrounded by steep cliffs when evading Bahr-Bahr Hunters. The Bahr-Bahr on the other hand didn't have the same range of flexibility in their upper arms and legs that enabled the River People to climb sheer cliffs with ease.

Dorag knew the land like the back of his hand and had a great memory for retaining changes no matter how subtle. He knew that this outcrop had undergone some major changes during the last quake, causing the cliff on the further side to break away in a landslide that created a steep, but traversable slope.  Dorag knew from experience, the River Peoples means of evading them, and since the group they hunted had obviously climbed the cliff, this signalled to him that they were either not aware of the change or they simply hoped that Dorag wasn't aware.

Dorag looked to the sky, the storm appeared to be blowing further out to sea. So with this easing his mind, and believing that those he hunted were watching from above, he decided to react as he normally would, pretending of course that the other side of the outcrop hadn't changed and so signalling the end of the hunt to his troop.

In normal circumstances this is where the Jayah's people usually had the advantage, meaning that all they had to do at this point was to wait for night when the tide would be high, the wind depleted and water calm enough for them to escape wholly unseen. The Bahr-Bahr could never figure it out... how they could just disappear, but they always did.  Since members of their people sank like a stone in water, they couldn't conceive of an enemy who closely resembled them, having the ability to float and swim, an ability that the River People had managed to keep a secret for as long as their rivalry began many generations ago.

Dorag signed to his men, motioning for them to head back to the forest.

Once in the forest, Dorag and his troop circled around until they were able to peer through the trees and see the other side of the outcrop. Sure enough, the cliff was now a rugged slope. Dorag motioned for half of his troop to follow him and the other half to stay behind in case they were detected and the enemy then tried to escape by climbing back down the cliff.

Hidden from view, Jayah watched things unfolded below. Dorag had been wrong to assume that the River Clan weren't aware of the change in the cliff. She also knew the antics of Dorag well enough to know that he was more than likely aware of the change as well, but what was important at this time, was that she had managed to trick him. When she saw Dorag and his troop head back toward the forest, she wasn't discouraged, it's what she would do if she was in his place-- set the prey at ease and then under the cover of trees, circle around for a sneak attack.

Jayah crept along, moving to the northern end of the outcrop and waited, peering out from her place of hiding and watching the forest edge for any sign of movement. Sure enough she watched as half the troop emerge near the cliff's northeast side, hugging along it's face and moving ever closer to the slope.

It was only a matter of time before the hunters would discover her ruse. She knew that they would kill her before retracing their steps in hopes of picking up the trail that led to a bigger prize, one that gave cause for her to sacrifice her life and that of her unborn child.

Jayah was in immense pain and had lost much blood. She doubled over holding onto her stomach as it turned rock hard. The contraction lasted only a moment, but she knew that it would soon return with a vengeance. Jayah presumed her child to be dead, and had suspected it yesterday, after she had been a full day in labour and the baby had stopped moving. She knew something was seriously wrong, and she also knew that a woman in labour for more than a day never survived... another of Ayah's golden rules.

Chapter 1: Rite of Passage

No sooner had the coals gasped out their last dying light when another took its place. The rays were weak, barely percolating behind a wall of mist over  the horizon, and so the boys drew close to inspect their work.  On each of their bodies painted symbols in hues of yellow, brown and red ochre proudly told of various exploits.  Every inch of skin was painted, masking their faces so completely, that only one remained recognizable.

They were the same age, each having survived two winters beyond the average life expectancy of a Clan male, and this more than anything had marked them as special, but the scars bore by one told a tale that along with his slight frame set him apart from the others.

Of all the predators that roamed the the great plains and nearby forest, it was the bahr that clan members feared most, the largest and most fearsome of bears that was as ugly as it was mean. The fur of the bahr was a perfect camouflage, turning white during winter and then because each strand was hollow and transparent, they served as a micro green houses for algae to flourish and resulting in the bahr's coat turning a mottled green, a perfect camouflage against the backdrop of their summer hunting grounds. Unlike the smaller species of bear that were mostly vegetarian and hibernating in dens beneath the sod during winter, the Bahr were for the most part carnivorous, with hibernation occurring in intervals, waking occasionally to raid the dens of fox, wolves and even smaller bears.

There were many reasons why Dorag’s clan chose to hunt such a formidable foe, but competition was at the forefront: both hunted the reindeer and both sought caves as dens. The hunters were successful due to strategy and large expeditions. If ever a person venturing alone had the misfortune of confronting a bahr, it always ended with a dead clan member. The bahr on the other hand didn’t go out of their way to hunt clans people, preferring to avoid them instead, but if by chance they came across a lone individual, they would not turn away from the opportunity of killing an enemy.

A full day passed before the boys returned to the same sacred ground, their breath tortured and eyes focussed on the now setting sun, each paid silent tribute to their deity, offering up humble gratitude for the many times that Ayah intervened to keep them alive in their blood soaked lands. Dorag was among them, and during the moment of silence his mind drifted back to a time when he had just turned 11winters and his mother had gifted him with an extraordinary gift, his fathers spear.  

So happy had Dorag been with the gift, that even his mother couldn't pry it from her small son's grip as he slept that night.   The air was brisk and frost heavy on the ground when Dorag awoke, and even though he knew the teaming schools of fish would be gone, there were always some that lingered.  He also knew that it was the safest time because the reindeer were gone, and even though the bahr then turned to fishing, it was only when the schools of spawning salmon were abundant.  Dorag also knew that the bahr's fur at this time was newly white, making them exposed and vulnerable, and so further ensuring that all were nestled in caves.   

Only a select few of the clan enjoyed the taste of fish, most preferring the meat of reindeer, and even though the great herds were gone, it had been a good year and their caches deep within the permafrost were filled with reindeer meat.  Dorag enjoyed the taste of fish as did many of his family and close relatives, all of whom appreciated his contributions.  

He strapped the small harpoon to the back of his satchel and slung it over his shoulder leaving his hands free to cary his fathers spear, and then crept silently from the hut, careful not to wake his mother who would insist that he not venture out on his own.  When fishing, Dorag preferred being alone.

There was no other reason to bring the spear except to admire it and pretend that he was a great hunter like his father.  Dorag knew everything about his father's hunting prowess from the stories reenacted by hunters around their campf fires, and he loved all of them, except for the one where his father dies.  As Dorag's mind drifted to the stories, he stopped paying attention to his surroundings, a grave mistake that a seasoned hunter would never make, but he was just a boy pretending.  It wasn't until he heard the bone chilling sound that he stopped.  As he slowly turned around, the hair at the back of his neck stood on end, he already knew what it was.
 
The bahr stood upright, an indication that it was about to charge, and its lip was curled back in a vicious snarl so that Dorag could see fangs longer than his hand.  The bahr was a mass of white that 
towered 15 feet, it's black eyes darted and its nose sniffed, trying to assess the situation.  Convinced that no one else was around the bahr saw Dorag as prey and so made its move.  

As with all others caught unaware, Dorag's instinct was to turn and run, but then fate intervened, a loose rock beneath his foot gave way causing him to stumble backwards.  The young boy would have fallen to the ground except for the butt of his fathers spear wedging between two boulders.  Dorag's fear turned to despair at the thought of leaving the spear, and as he looked into the bahr's eyes, everything including the despair drained from him and was replaced with an anger so intense that every fibre of his being vibrated.  The beast transformed in his mind so that it became every bully that had tormented him, and it occurred to Dorag in that instant, that running had never done him any good, and now with death seemingly imminent, he simply refused to obey his instinct, choosing instead to face the enemy as though he were a hunter among hunters, his father standing protectively behind him.  

As the bahr fell back on all fours and about to begin its charge, clarity filled every dark corridor of Dorag's mind and the spear wedged in the boulders became an opportunity that would be lost if he turned to run and the bahr veered in pursuit.

The bahr hesitated, momentarily confused by Dorag's defiant stance and eyes that showed no fear.  The great white beast cautiously sniffed the air again, and having detected no others, charged, fully expecting it's prey to turn and run at any moment, but Dorag stood his ground.  The bahr wasn't worried, it's heavily clawed paw would be enough to dislodge both boy and spear with a single swipe.

The Bahr had no way of knowing the twist of fate.  Dorag waited for the right moment, and as he loosened his hold and began to fall backward, he felt a searing pain as claws raked his flesh. Thudding to the ground and before unconsciousness spared him the gory details, Dorag managed to roll.  It wasn't possible for the bahr to veer in midair, and so the spear securely poised between the boulders had greeted the beast head on.

When Dorag came to, a crushing weight on his chest made it difficult for him to breath.  Pushing off the massive paw, he then stood to face the grizzly scene-- his fathers spear had entered the bahr's gaping mouth and pierce through its brain and out through the back of its skull. 

It was dusk when the search party came across the boy who had already skinned the bahr and was in the process of removing its fangs.  All were in awe with Dorag's tale and even though he berated himself  for not paying attention to his surroundings, the elders recognized that Dorag had the presence of mind to take advantage of an opportunity that in the end had saved his life.  Killing a bahr single handedly by a clans member was a first, and that it was by a mere child resulted in the elders attributing it to the will of Ayah, their deity who chose to bestow favour on the boy.   

Now, 4 years later and as the group of boys witnessed the last of the sun bleed into a far off land across a great shimmering sea, and as rivulets of sweat rendered the painted ochre into sagging strips, they stood there no longer as boys, but men ... hunters of the bahr, and the slightest among them, the one with scars now visible through the remnants of ochre, took his place as their leader.