Rastaban's Words

Rastaban’s words ricocheted through Andrev’s skull, and he blinked rapidly.

“Pardon, sir?”

Rastaban’s smile turned puzzled. “You do play the pipes, don’t you? Of course, Kana lies to me all the time, so you don’t have to perform if you don’t want to --”

Andrev swallowed hard. He didn’t dare ask to hear those words again. He tried to will his feet to move, to carry him away to safety, but then children were clamoring around him, begging him to carve toy whistles and other charms.

“Brother, brother, please?” they piped up, dancing in eager circles around him.

Andrev smiled. “Yes.”

One Of Us

Andrev paused. His heart stuttered in his chest. Rastaban stood with some of the other Wanderer Elders, probably discussing what magical performance they would put on for the midsummer feast.

“Pardon?” Andrev asked.

Rastaban looked at him, puzzled. “The feast tonight. You haven’t been to one yet. You absolutely must come.”

Andrev shifted his spear from hand to hand. “Sir, I don’t think I --”

Rastaban grinned. “I understand - there’s a maiden in the main camp, isn’t there?”

Andrev shook his head quickly. “No, but --”

“Then come to our feast! You’re one of us. I hear you play the pipes well.”

The Feasts

There were glorious feasts almost every night in the main camp. Andrev avoided them, sitting on the edges of the firelight learning from the reindeer and other animals he tended for the night.

Andrev had heard of the feasts in the Wanderer camp, but he’d never thought to attend one. Kana was with the women, helping them skin and prepare the antelope they’d caught. When he passed, she smiled at him.

He couldn’t help but attempt to smile faintly in return. He would sleep under the stars and away from the humans tonight.

But Rastaban called out. “Andrev! Join us!”

One Barb

Andrev felt blood drip from his palms onto the grass. He wanted to say that Kana was no distraction for any man, but Kir was smirking at him knowingly, and Andrev knew better than to protest. Anything he said would turn into a weapon on Kir’s lips when Kir threw his words back at him.

Andrev settled on one barb. “Perhaps she could teach you to hunt.” And he started off toward the sunrise where he knew the antelopes were.

A few moments later, Kana fell into step beside him. She said, “Thank you.”


A butterfly fluttered in her hair.

A Very Fine Distraction

Kana giggled and nodded. “Very cute!”

She danced around Kir, skirts swirling, and Andrev was sure he’d drawn blood with how tightly his hands were curled into fists. Kir looked Kana up and down with obvious appreciation, and Andrev could hardly fault Kir for it. Despite her mad giggling and being easily distractible, Kana was very lovely.

Then Kana caught sight of a butterfly, and she dashed after it.

“She’s quite mad,” Kir said.

“Yes.”

“But lovely.” Kir tapped his chin thoughtfully, and Andrev saw he was wearing several trinkets. “She would make a very fine distraction, would she not?”

Just Like a Baby Bird

Kana’s eyes lit up, and Andrev’s hands curled into fists. Of course she would find Kir attractive, just like every other girl roaming this camp. One year Andrev really would leave the humans and live on his own with the animals. Animals had horns too.

Kir smirked, ran an appreciative gaze over Kana.

She waved her knife in some approximation of a greeting. “Awww, it’s Andrev’s little friend! Isn’t he cute? Just like a baby bird!” She circled Kir, cooing and attempting to pet his hair.

Kir’s smirk vanished. Then he attempted to reassert some confidence.

“You think I’m cute?”

At The Rate You're Going

Andrev flinched. No one in his tribe had asked that, not like they’d been asking Kir, but then no one would ever ask him. It was understood by all that the boy who was called a gift from the gods was too cursed to take a wife.

“No,” he said shortly.

Kana smiled brightly, oblivious to his discomfort with the subject. “Don’t worry - one will find you. After all, you are the mightiest hunter.” She peered into the distance. “What sort of animals will we find, do you think?”

“None, at the rate you’re going. Hunting with a girl, Andrev?”

She Was Mad; He Was Cursed

“What is that supposed to mean?” Andrev asked. But he could sense a decent crop of small antelopes toward the east, and he started walking.


Kana trotted beside him. “Rastaban only asks for the best hunter each year. You are the best of everyone.”

“Everyone?” Andrev echoed, voice laced with heavy skepticism.

Kana flung an arm wide to indicate the entirety of the summer camp and almost stabbed Andrev with her knife. “Everyone. You are the best of them all. You’re special.”

He shook his head. She was mad.

He was cursed.

“Have you chosen a maiden yet?” Kana asked.

Of Course

The girls in Andrev’s tribe didn’t know how to hunt at all. Maybe because The Wanderers had no hunters of their own, everyone knew how to hunt a little. It didn’t seem like a bad idea until a girl like Kana was allowed to hunt a knife.

Mid-hunt she’d probably get distracted by a butterfly and accidentally cut off her own hand or something equally horrible.

“Which way?” she asked.

“What makes you think I know?”

She tilted her head to the side and studied him, like a curious bird. “You hunt for us. Of course you would know.”

Certainly

They summoned Andrev before dawn, pressed a heavy spear into his hands and pushed him toward the edge of camp. Andrev wasn’t even sure when his pallet of furs had been moved into the Wanderer camp, but suddenly he was standing at the edge of the camp, half-awake and searching the air for the whisper-voices of animals that no one else seemed to hear.

“Take Kana with you,” Rastaban said.

Andrev blinked. Kana held a long knife and grinned like an eager kitten. Andrev was quite sure she was mad.


“Can you hunt?” he asked.

She nodded. “Certainly.”

Not People

Andrev was floored. No one was horrified by how he looked. His grip on his spear tightened. Then, he said, carefully,

“You’ve seen people...like me...before?”

“Not people,” the little boy said.

Andrev swallowed hard, bowed his head to let his hair cover his face one more.

“They’re very special, whoever they are,” the woman said kindly. “If you are as good a hunter as they say, then you must be one of them.”

“Don’t hide,” Kana said brightly. “You’re so pretty!” She ducked down and tried to peer into his eyes. “Smile, pretty boy!”

Andrev closed his eyes.

Who You Are

One curious child took a swipe at Andrev’s face, and he jerked back, but he was too late - the damage was done. He froze, naked under the Wanderers’ questing gazes, as his hair was shoved back to reveal his shame, his disgrace, the mark of his demonic nature.

The little child who’d shamed him blinked his wide eyes, and then he spoke. “Oooh! He has five horns! That’s way better than three.”

And then his mother shushed him. “Show more respect for the lovely hunter we’ve found.” She smiled at Andrev. “Those Dolgan don’t know who you are, do they?”

Wanderer Camp

The Wanderer camp was alive with sight and sound, girls wearing brightly-colored dresses twirling and tumbling in the grass, boys balancing spears on their noses and using staffs to vault themselves through the air. A child danced around Andrev’s feet, playing merry music on a wooden pipe.

Rastaban swept into the camp, and everyone cheered.

“This is Andrev, our loyal hunter for the season.”

The people cheered again. Andrev cringed at the wall of sound that hit him, but then they were all surrounding him, shouting hellos and reaching out to pat him on the shoulder, touch his hair.

Come With Us

“I hunt,” Andrev said warily.

Rastaban seemed oblivious to the way Andrev was doing his best to radiate hostility; the reindeer noticed and began stamping their hooves and snorting.

Rastaban clapped Andrev on the shoulder. “We’re glad we found you. Come along and meet the rest of the Wanderers.” And Rastaban spun on his heel.

Kana laughed sweetly and rose up in one smooth, graceful motion. Then she offered a hand to Andrev. “Come with us?”

Andrev pushed himself to his feet, careful not to touch her. “Go on, then.”

She smiled at him and turned, skipped across the grass.

Mod Post

So I decided to simplify the tagging system (since, upon reflection, some characters are going to go through a lot more lives than others) and now there are, quite simply, tags by name and/or interlude notices. Maybe at a later date when I'm feeling ambitious I'll tag things so people can find individual lives, but in the meantime, simplicity is best. Or so I'm told.

Usually

“I’m Andrev.” He shook Rastaban’s proffered hand. The Wanderers came to the Market every year to perform - music, acrobatics, sleight-of-hand - and though they were well-loved by the children, they were scorned by the adults. After a while, Andrev understood why, but that had never stopped him liking them.

Rastaban’s smile brightened. “Just the man we’re looking for - your chief Savva said you’re an excellent hunter.”

The Wanderers lived off the work of others, as it were, and every year they commissioned hunters from the tribes. Usually it was something of an honor to hunt for them. Usually.

The Wanderers

Andrev blinked, suspicious, when Kana smiled at him.

“Your reindeer love you. You take good care of them,” she said.

“Thanks,” Andrev said. She could tell that by looking at them? Something about the cheerful light in her eyes was...off. Was she mad?

She reached out. “Let me see your eyes.” She went to push his hair out of his face.

He recoiled.

“Kana, don’t run off.” A man trotted toward them, smiling apologetically. “Don’t worry - she’s harmless.”

“I’m sure,” Andrev said.

The man offered a hand. “I’m Rastaban of the Wanderers.”

Andrev’s eyes widened. The Wanderers were here.

Kana

Andrev was on his feet in an instant, ducking his head to hide his horns, and there she was, a girl.

She was kneeling beside one of the reindeer and petting its nose, laughing delightedly. Andrev could only stare, confused, when she smiled at him. She was lovely, unlike any girl he had ever seen, with dark skin and curly dark hair and eyes the color of fire.

How had she sneaked up him like that? Andrev knew better than to let anyone get the drop on him.

“What are you doing here?” Andrev asked warily.

Someone called out, “Kana!”

Always Tired

One of the reindeer nosed at his shoulder while he sat, sharpening his spearheads.

Andrev lifted his head, made a wordless sound of questioning. Something akin to motherly concern drifted over him, and Andrev shook his head. He wasn’t upset or lonely; he was tired. Always tired.

He glanced over his shoulder and watched the camp bustle with life and activity, set in a rhythm different from his own. No one was paying attention to him, so he lifted his head and shook his hair out of his eyes.

And then he heard laughter.

A girl’s laughter.

Right beside him.

Every Woman a Mother

Andrev led the reindeer to his chosen spot along the edge of the riverbank. He wouldn’t have to tether them; they listened to him and would obediently graze nearby while he pitched his tent.

He made quick work of his lean-to, a patchwork of furs and skins. His bed was another pallet of furs he’d collected over the years, more from his own hunting and scavenging than Savva knew; the women had never wanted to give him clothes or blankets despite the shaman’s insistence that every woman was mother to the boy who was a gift from the gods.

Summer Plains

It took another four days to reach the summer plains, but once the massive encampment came into sight on the horizon, Andrev felt hope soar. He could take the reindeer to the edge of everything, just by the river, and hide for all three months. As long as he brought his share of food back to the tribe, he could roam free and study the animals, trees, plants how he chose.

Savva didn’t look twice at Andrev to dispatch him to set the reindeer for grazing; Savva cared about the massive market built in the midst of all the tribes.

Savva's Son

The tribe caught up with Kir and the other hunters mid-morning the next day. Most of them wore shiny new trinkets and exchanged sly grins. Andrev walked at the rear of the caravan, driving the reindeer.

“Kir, you positively glitter with jewelry,” Savva called out, proud of his son.

Kir tossed his head and preened. “There are many lovely girls in our sister-tribes.”

Andrev resisted the urge to make a low remark that there were many people in Kir’s own tribe who’d gone without food the night before. But everyone was pleased for Kir; he was Savva’s son.

Shelter from the Midnight Wind

The matrons of the tribe looked up, surprised, when Andrev set down a rack of fresh, unconscious but still-living fish for gutting and cleaning.

“Where are Kir and the others?” one woman asked.

“Fetching trinkets from girls,” Andrev said. “The nearest tribe is half a day’s journey. Expect Kir and the others home tomorrow.”

The women exchanged looks; they knew that Andrev would never receive a trinket from a girl. Andrev shouldered his spear and headed toward the edge of camp where he’d made his own bed for the night. The reindeer would shelter him from the midnight wind.

When They Think I Can't Hear

Kir wanted him to be ashamed of what he was. Andrev had spent his whole life being ashamed. Sometimes, he was so ashamed that he became angry.

“They only say that because I hunt so well,” he said coolly. “But when they think I can’t hear they call me the spawn of a demon. Too bad I don’t have demon powers.” And he lifted his head, deliberately shook his hair out of his eyes.


The girl couldn’t even scream.

Andrev handed Kir his spear. “I’ll be at the river getting fresh fish for the women. See you back at camp.”

Not Quick Enough

The exchange of trinkets - bracelets, necklaces - was the first step in courting. Kir usually received the most trinkets, but he still had yet to take a girl to wife. Andrev lingered at the rear of the pack, spear in hand. The river wasn’t far - he could slink off, catch some live fish, and return to Savva’s camp.

Only he wasn’t quick enough.

One lovely girl with hair like the midnight sky and skin the color of warm earth smiled at him, toying with her necklace. “This one is new, Kir.”

Kir’s smile turned cruel. “He’s a gift from the gods.”

Their Girls

The best thing about spring was that it meant the big migration - along the river, toward the summer plains. The summer plains meant crowds and crowds of people where it would be easy for Andrev to blend into the shadows and go about his tasks unnoticed. He liked seeing the other animals the other tribes brought, hearing about the places where they roamed most of the year.

But this year he was a hunter. That meant running ahead and scouting, bringing back food. That meant meeting other tribes and trying to court their girls.

He always made their girls scream.

Fishing

“I know your secret,” Kir said as he and Andrev stood side-by-side in the river, armed with spears.

“Oh?” Andrev asked.

“You’re half demon. That’s why you hunt so well,” Kir said.

“Maybe I’m a gift from the gods, destined to bring this tribe to greatness,” Andrev said dryly. He set his spear on the riverbank and reached into the clear water, hands poised.

Kir gaped. “What are you doing?”

Andrev closed his eyes, waited, listening for the tiny heartbeat, the frantic animal thoughts. And then he opened his eyes and closed his hands over a live fish.

What To Believe

That night, around the fire, Andrev sat away from the others as he always did, gnawing on his share of the antelope meat and steadily avoiding everyone’s gazes. He could hear the men and women whispering.

“Perhaps he really is a gift from the gods,” one of the women whispered. “If we’d had him hunt for us before, we never would have wanted for food.”

“I don’t trust him,” another woman said. “He might try to poison us.”

Andrev dared to glance at Kir where he sat with Savva and the other hunters. Now no one knew what to believe.

Aren't I?

Andrev strode into the camp and laid the antelope carcass at Savva’s feet. Savva stared.

Kir, who had leveled the butt of his spear at Andrev as if to strike him, almost dropped his spear.

“Will this please the women?” Andrev asked, voice low. He kept his head down, let his hair obscure his features.

“I - where did you find it?”

Andrev couldn’t keep the bitter, sardonic twist out of his voice. “Apparently the gods favor our tribe, my chief.”

“You killed it yourself?” Kir asked.

In reply, Andrev leveled the bloody spear at him. “I’m a hunter, aren’t I?”

Before He Threw

He walked toward the trees, toward the place where he knew the antelope went to drink every morning. Most days, he did his best to ignore the chatter of the animals around him, hyperaware of the fact that others could not hear what he heard. But he knew when rabbits nested underfoot, when a falcon soared overhead, when a fox was protecting new cubs in her den.

He came across an antelope and her young, and he lifted his spear. It should have been to heavy for him, but he wasn’t like the other boys.

He apologized before he threw.

Opposites

Andrev murmured a soft farewell to the reindeer and rose to his feet, crossed the camp, kept his head bowed so his long hair obscured his face.

Savva handed him a spear. “It is almost daybreak. Go with Kir and the others. Come back with something big and fat to please the women, yes?”

Andrev took the spear in one hand, tested its weight. It was heavier than most, designed for an experienced hunter.

Kir started for the edge of camp. “This way, Andrev.” He spoke as if he addressed a dog.

Andrev turned and walked in the opposite direction.

He Will Hunt

Andrev heard the tribe council whispering, wondering what to do with the cursed child.

“He will never marry, never learn a trade - no one would trade with a demon,” Savva said.

“Perhaps,” his son Kir said, “he will hunt. Look at him - he is weak and frail. A large animal would kill him easily.”

Andrev pretended he heard nothing and continued feeding the reindeer. Kir was his own age, professed to be a loving step-sibling, but his cruelty was blatant, if ignored by the elders.

Savva called out. “Andrev, come over here and take a spear, hunt with Kir.”