PEACE

I am one of three. I have a brother named Qan, and a sister called Xagu. Together, we are the children of the wilds and we are among the last of our kind. My name is I’teedo.

My brother Qan leads as always. He is several years the senior of both I and Xagu and he is well guided by the spirits whom we follow. We have spent all summer taking rest beneath rock shelters, whilst hunting on the hills, but the game disperses into the valleys. The babbling brook which we choose to follow down, is not deep enough for floating upon, therefore on foot we must trek along hazardous shallows.

Xagu groans at this cumbersome legwork, ‘Qan, are you sure that this is the best way to reach the low valleys?’

Our older brother, his chest high and narrow like a bird’s, turns to flash a grin. The sun bakes his skin to a deep, permanent shadow, a stark contrast to Xagu, who despite her already proud, athletic build, her face still holds the round softness of a girl and skin, the pale hue of a fresh-shelled hazelnut.

He tells her, ‘This is the way of the Bearded Bull. He will lead us to safe winter quarters, free of strife. Xagu, spirit of Goshawk will grant you a reunion with your fabled other sister’.

He smirks in my direction. Ever since our mothers told us of the dream stories, Xagu selfishly brags of her destiny, to meet this barbarian sibling. It is her own pride. I must not be so mean. I love Xagu dearly, and aside from her ambitions, she’s a quiet, thoughtful and clever person, fiercely loyal to her family.

The brook twists around a bend of its rocky gorge, we stumble around the mossy rocks of this limestone vale. I need to look carefully where to place my bare feet to avoid slipping over. Xagu follows suit, in my own footsteps.

Qan disturbs our meditation, ‘There, look down ahead’.

We sisters both pause to see what catches our guide’s attention. My jaw drops in wonder, as my eyes feast upon the landscape which we now approach. This hillside brook descends to become a wide trout stream, which wiggles through a steep sided gorge before spilling out to a broader floodplain. I see thin forests, suggestive of many browsing kinds, both of deer and of bovines. Already the leaves of the forests there are changing to autumn colours. They will be heavy in nuts, and the understory with berries. Such a beautiful landscape that only savages - we wildborn folk can fully appreciate the true meaning of. This looks like a very good place to spend the winter. This will be where the herds shelter from cold hillsides.

Xagu decides to spoil our wonder with a pessimistic tone, ‘There will be barbarians there! It will not be safe for us. They’ll have found this sheltered valley before us. Those thinly wooded meadows beyond look too perfect for their cattle’.

Qan raises his eyebrows, then remonstrates, ‘No my sister, I tell you that this is the place for us to take shelter from the winter winds. As Bearded Bull is my own guide’. Qan is uniquely in communion with that representation of the bovine. A legendary kind which neither of we sisters have ever set sight upon. My mother had told me that she once saw Qan as a child conjure up a ghost of his type. Otherwise Bearded Bull features only in our stories.

My eyes enjoy the scenery to the south for enough time. I want to reach this apparent paradise. I hope that Xagu is wrong. Together we resume our hobble along the stones of a brook, and climb down towards the promised land.

To encourage my sister, with a mischievous grin I suggest, ‘Little Vole, maybe there are folk down there. Others of our own wild kind? There may be pretty boys there to entertain us?’

Xagu snorts at this comment, then snaps ‘Boys! Yes, boys of the barbarian sort. Those that would beat then enslave you as their concubine thing to work and to enjoy’.

I look over a shoulder to stretch my features, stick out a tongue, and pull an ugly face at my holier-than-thou sister. I really do love her, although our desires may at times be estranged.

Qan is leaving us behind. From ahead, I hear him cry out, ‘There are falls ahead, we will need to walk around’. 

I hear Xagu groan with despair from behind.

We make it down to lower, less steep ground where this stream grows wider as it snakes out of the gorge and across the upper reaches of a foundling floodplain.

We have little chance to explore this valley before Xagu wisely suggests, ‘Brother and Sister, here we should forage and make camp’. Her suggestion is, as always, sensible. I leave her to make the overnight den, for she is best for that duty. Qan uses his magic bow and drill to make the heat of a small hearth, while I explore this wonderful wilderness in search of its fruits. I need not look far, for despite the efforts of squirrels, pig, and bear, I find hazel heavy with nuts, and berries a plenty within the understory. As I wander around with nimble fingers picking away the fruits, I dream of bumping into a handsome boy of these woods. I am a young woman, keen to start my own life, for despite the pleasant company of my siblings, I feel so horribly alone.

On return I found a bivvy constructed with a low bough of a great, spreading yew as its beam, and insulated with much fresh fall of leaf. A hearth burns a safe distance in front of the opening. Our new camp is, however, devoid of its creators, and I guess that my sneaky siblings venture out to hunt, absent of myself. The rotters. I make myself comfortable by the fire, and shell hazelnuts for roasting. The scent of this cooking will soon lure them home.

It works. My brother returns with a guilty looking boomerang in a hand. A small piggy around his shoulders. Poor thing had barely grown out of his stripes when struck by the throwing stick. Xagu accompanies him, grinning with victory. It appears that tonight we are going to feast very well.

Xagu cheers up with this success, and cheerfully brags, ‘Beautiful!’. Ugh, she calls me that as her taunt. Xagu continues, ‘The spirits of this wilderness are generous, and I must beg your forgiveness, for on our jaunt, we saw no evidence of the barbarians’. Then she sticks out a rude tongue before adding ‘nor of any pretty wild boys!’ Does she need to say that?

I let her teasing fly free. We busy ourselves with cooking and eating. We agree that in the morning, with our bellies full, we shall explore more of this magical valley, and follow the stream further. Sleep soon follows.

A full day we saunter further down this bountiful valley, and continue to see no sign of any folk, let alone the barbarians who plague our world. We decide to make a more sedentary camp, and together as a family build a sturdier pair of dens - one for Qan, and another for his sisters. I find heavy stones and establish the magical hearth of our winter camp. This place is most enchanted. Now we need to secure our stores of autumn excess. I and Xagu will tomorrow set out to forage for nuts to be roasted.