Idyllea Index
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 Xagu and me, well guided by the spirits whom we follow. We have spent all summer resting beneath rock shelters whilst hunting on the hills, but the game is dispersing into the valleys now. The babbling brook we choose to follow down is not deep enough to float upon; we must trek on foot along the hazardous shallows.
Xagu groans at the 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 has baked his skin to a deep, permanent shadow—a stark contrast to Xagu. Despite her proud, athletic build, my sister's face still holds the round softness of a girl, her skin the pale hue of a fresh-shelled hazelnut.
‘This is the way of the Bearded Bull,’ Qan tells her. ‘He will lead us to safe winter quarters, free of strife. Xagu, the spirit of the Goshawk will grant you a reunion with your fabled other sister.’
He smirks in my direction. Ever since our mothers told us the dream stories, Xagu selfishly brags of her destiny to meet this barbarian sibling. It is her own pride, though I must not be mean. I love Xagu dearly; aside from her ambitions, she is a quiet, thoughtful, and clever person, fiercely loyal to her family.
The brook twists around a bend of its rocky gorge, and we stumble over the mossy stones of the limestone vale. I watch carefully where to place my bare feet to avoid slipping. Xagu follows suit, stepping exactly in my footprints.
Qan disturbs our meditation. ‘There. Look down ahead.’
We both pause to see what has caught our guide’s attention. My jaw drops in wonder. The hillside brook descends to become a wide trout stream, wiggling through a steep-sided gorge before spilling out onto a broader floodplain. Thin forests suggest many browsing kinds—both deer and bovines. Already the leaves are changing to autumn colours. They will be heavy with nuts, and the understory thick with berries. It is a beautiful landscape, the kind that only savages—we wildborn folk—can fully appreciate the true meaning of. This will be where the herds shelter from the cold hillsides; it looks like a very good place to spend the winter.
Xagu spoils our wonder. ‘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. ‘No, sister. I tell you that this is the place for us to take shelter from the winter winds. The Bearded Bull is my guide.’
Qan is uniquely in communion with that representation of the bovine—a legendary beast that neither Xagu nor I have ever set eyes upon. My mother told me she once saw Qan conjure up a ghost of his guide when he was a child, but otherwise, the Bearded Bull features only in our stories.
I look at the scenery to the south. I want to reach this paradise, and I hope that Xagu is wrong. Together, we resume our hobble along the stones, climbing down towards the promised land.
To encourage my sister, I offer a mischievous grin. ‘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, snapping instantly. ‘Boys! Yes, boys of the barbarian sort. Those that would beat you, then enslave you as their concubine-thing to work and to enjoy.’
I look over my shoulder, stick out my tongue, and pull an ugly face at my holier-than-thou sister. I really do love her, even if our desires are sometimes estranged.
From ahead, Qan calls back, ‘There are falls ahead! We will need to walk around.’
Behind me, Xagu groans with despair.
We make it down to lower, less steep ground where the stream grows wider, snaking out of the gorge and across the upper reaches of a foundling floodplain. We have little chance to explore the valley before Xagu offers another thought.
‘Brother and Sister, here we should forage and make camp.’
Her suggestion is, as always, sensible. I leave her to build the overnight den, for she is best suited to that duty. Qan uses his magic bow and drill to coax heat from a small hearth, while I explore the wilderness in search of its fruits. I need not look far. Despite the efforts of squirrels, pigs, and bears, the hazel trees are heavy with nuts, and berries are plentiful within the understory. As I wander around, my 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; despite the pleasant company of my siblings, I feel so horribly alone.
On my return, I find a bivvy constructed under the low bough of a great, spreading yew, which serves as its main beam. It is well insulated with a thick carpet of fresh fallen leaves. A hearth burns at a safe distance in front of the opening. Our new camp is devoid of its creators, however, and I guess that my sneaky siblings have ventured out to hunt without me. The rotters.
I make myself comfortable by the fire and shell hazelnuts for roasting. The scent of the cooking will soon lure them home.
It works. My brother returns with a guilty-looking boomerang in his hand and a small pig slung over his shoulders. The poor thing had barely grown out of its stripes when struck by the throwing stick. Xagu accompanies him, grinning with victory. Tonight, we are going to feast very well.
Xagu cheers up with this success, her tone turning to a cheerful taunt. ‘Beautiful!’
Ugh, she calls me that just to tease me.
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.’ She sticks out a rude tongue. ‘Nor of any pretty wild boys!’
Did she really need to say that?
I let her teasing fly free. We busy ourselves with cooking and eating, agreeing 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, continuing to see no sign of any folk, let alone the barbarians who plague our world. We decide to make a more permanent camp. Together as a family, we 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 deeply enchanted. Now we need to secure our stores of autumn excess. Tomorrow, Xagu and I will set out to forage for nuts to be roasted.














