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Daro

Moen cleared his throat. “Can we start now?”

Sighing, Daro nodded. The breakfast fires had long since been extinguished, the sun was high in the sky, and the air and the rocks were rapidly warming. “All right. We will go on without her.” He glanced back at the cave entrance, hoping that Shara would appear out of the darkness. But the cave remained silent and black. It was time to get to work.

“Moen, do you understand how this gate is going to come together?”

Moen started to nod his head, but then thought better of it and shook it slowly. That was hardly surprising – Moen was not the brightest boy in the Clan. But then he was much smarter than his father.

Daro squatted down in the dirt, and gently brushed an area smooth. Using his index finger, he traced his thoughts into the dirt. “First, we are going to put a strong trunk along the top. Then we are going to build two doors from wood and vines, and lastly we are going to attach these doors to the top pole, so they can be lifted when someone wishes to leave or enter the cave.

Moen nodded blankly. Daro sighed. Too much of his father in him. He turned to re-examine the piles of sticks and vines and grasses. “What are we going to do first?”

Moen was staring at Oola, who was pacing back and forth in front of the main door. Reaching over, Daro slapped the boy across his head. “Pay attention. What are we going to do first?”” Moen frowned, looking guilty and wounded.

The boy stared at the pile of wood. “Build the doors?”

“No.” Moen’s face fell immediately, and Daro, feeling a surge of sympathy, paused, and pondered the answer for a moment. It wasn’t the answer he had expected, but it wasn’t a completely bad choice either.

“That isn’t what I was planning. But I suppose it is just as good of an approach.” A smile crept across Moen’s face as he recognized the praise.

Daro waved towards the wood. “Grab some vines and some stout poles, and we will build the first door.” The boy rushed over to the pile, searching for the right material. Daro stared at the cave entrance, trying to estimate how large each door should be. At least the height of two men, and the width of two plus a child.

The doors would be heavy – it would be difficult for a child to lift. But that was a good thing – the idea was to keep the children inside the cave at night, and to keep the wolves out. Too many times the Clan had been woken by the screams of a mother, or a father, discovering that their child had wandered away in the night, usually to be found the next day as a bloody, half-eaten pile of bones and gobbets of meat.

“You are a great builder, Daro. Build a way to keep us safe.” Roggo had said, after they had found the body of the young girl.

A soft hand touched his shoulder as he shook his head to clear his thoughts of the dead. “Do you have a moment?” His wife’s voice was low, and urgent, and he turned immediately.

As always, he was struck by her beauty – Rare blue eyes, gently flowing black hair that drifted gently across her smooth cheeks and her gentle features. Her face always relaxed him, giving him warm thoughts of home, and love. “For you? Of course.”

She held her finger to her lips, and pointed at Lara, who was wrapped up in a sling that ran across Shena’s chest. The two year old was nearly too big for the sling, and one leg hung loosely out as she slept. “What do you need?” he whispered.

She frowned, and motioned for him to follow her upriver, away from the cave entrance. Moen was still hunting through the poles, looking for the right size. It would take him a little while to get through the stack. He nodded and followed her along the riverbank into the shade of a pair of old oak trees.

“Shaman discovered that I still use the Song.”

Unfortunate. But not necessarily as bad as she said. “What does he know?”

“I was netting fish, and most were much too small. So I took the best two and used the song to make a full catch. As I was returning to the cooking fires he stopped me and examined the bag.”

Daro’s eyes narrowed. He had suggested strongly that she not do this, but it was her Song, and it seemed wrong to punish her, when they all certainly would have died without it. “Did he take any of the fish with him?”

She shook her head. “No, he gave them back, and they have all been cooked and eaten.”

His shoulders relaxed a little, and he let his breath out in a slow whistle. “I think he will leave it alone, then. If you are banished, he knows that I will leave with you, and there will be no one to build new spears or knives.” He glanced back at the boy. “Or doors.”

She nodded, quietly, her lips quivering, eyes tight. He recognized this sign. “What’s wrong?”

“I am sorry that this happened. I will not use it again.”

“Good.” he smiled. “We have plenty of food now, and we don’t need Shaman scolding us.” He turned to go back to the entrance, but she grabbed his arm once more. There is more. “Shara has learned the Song.”

That was a problem, because after today, his daughter would be an adult, and if she were caught, the banishment would fall on her alone. “What? When?”

Shena shrugged helplessly. “I think she must have learned it a long time ago, but she heard me singing it to Lara today while she was nursing, and she sang it along with me.”

He was rather surprised by this. “You have sung the song to our children when they nurse?”

“Of course I do.” she snapped. “Don’t you pay attention?”

He started to apologize, before remembering that it was her singing that had gotten them into this situation. “Well, I guess you shouldn’t have done that. Are you going to stop now?”

“I told you I would.” she snapped.

Daro nodded again, ignoring her ire. “Very well. I will speak to her later today, or tonight, and tell her not to sing it anymore. I don’t want her to be condemned to wander the wilderness.” He kissed his wife gently on the forehead, and turned back to the entrance. Moen had finished selecting his poles, and was busy placing several of them in the fire to shorten them. He has learned something, after all.

Returning to the entrance, Shena walked past him into the gloom. He turned to the fire, and examined the poles. Moen had chosen strong branches, and he had estimated the length well too. “Good work. Now go fetch some vines while I break these poles to the right length.” Moen scurried back to the pile of vines, searching for those of the right length. Daro studied the burning poles, lifting one from time to time to blow on the charred portions to eat away faster at the pine. After a short time he scooped up the bundle and carried it to the riverside, plunging the burning tips into the water. Pulling them out, he carefully jammed the ends into the soft mud of the riverbank, nestling the burned area against a large stone. Pulling down strongly, he snapped each pole off at the weak point.

Moen joined him, and grabbing half of the poles helped carry them back to the working area. Working quickly, the two of them used the vines to lash the poles together to create the two frames. Without anything to fill up the empty space they were next to useless, and so now they had to collect more sticks and poles to fill out the center. This work went much more slowly, as they had to carefully tie each stick to the main frame and to the others. Daro kept an eye on the bottom of the door, trying to make sure there were no weak spots for an animal to dig apart, or for a child to squeeze through. If only I had thought of this three years ago. Kito and Shara never mentioned her anymore, perhaps they had truly forgotten their lost little sister. He shook his head again, to clear his thoughts of the dead.

The sun was already past its height when they were finished with the doors, and his stomach was growling. He sent Moen inside to find some food while he spent some moments enjoying the beautiful day. A very light breeze blew across the plains, as children ran to and fro under the watchful eyes of their mothers. Most of the men were out hunting right now. He often went out with them, but the door was far more valuable to the Clan than any deer or buffalo that he might help bring down. Normally they would hunt until almost nightfall before returning, but they would return early today for the Starfall celebration.

The sky was bright blue, almost cloudless, a fine omen for the night’s Starfall display. A hawk or perhaps a small eagle circled lazily through the air, searching for an afternoon snack. As he watched the bird, a series of golden flashes lit the sky beyond. The flashes were barely visible, but he had seen enough Starfall days over the years to detect them. Still, this was nothing, especially compared to the streaming clouds that–

A fiery golden-white trail of smoke shot across the sky, vanishing across the northern horizon. A heartbeat later a sharp scraping sound ripped across the sky, followed by a distant rumble.

His heart pounded rapidly in his chest, and he froze, eyes glued to the sky. He waited, watching for another star to follow. He had been a young man the first time this had happened, many years ago. Everyone had pointed and shouted with excitement as the first star has shot across the sky. They had laughed and yelled as the second, and the third, and the fourth burning trail had followed. But as the fall continued, and the sky began to darken from the mass of the golden trails, the excitement had turned to fear. And when the great roar of anger echoed across the plains, and the burning golden clouds filled the air, they had crawled like worms to hide in holes and behind rocks.

Someone was speaking in his ear, yelling at him, but he didn’t care. His eyes were focused on the sky, his thoughts with the spirits. Please don’t send another Great Winter. We have worshiped you, and sacrificed to you, and honored your wishes as Shaman has commanded.

Except for Shena, who has sung the Song of Thanks.

Daro tried to push that thought away, as the golden trail slowly faded and smeared out across the sky. No other followed. Perhaps this was just a warning. I will make sure that Shena does not sing it again.

“Daro, sir! Are you alright?” Moen was practically shouting in his ear. He turned towards the young man, and nodded slowly. “Yes. I think so.” He glanced around, checking for trouble.

Out on the plains, children were still pointing at the sky, and laughing. Some were gleefully dancing and shouting “More. More.”

Daro shook his head, and turned away, trying not to think about it too much. There was work to be done, and it wouldn’t get done if he spent the rest of the day trembling in fear inside the cave. So many dead.

With an effort, he shook his head sharply, too sharply in fact, sending a burning pain through his neck. Grimly, he ground his teeth and tried to ignore the pain. “We need to put the main pole up on the wall now. I still need to dig out the socket for the right half of the pole. You should come up with me and watch how I use the digging stone.”

Moen nodded, and Daro turned and carefully crept up the rock face, using the ledges and cracks and pockets in the stone to help him on his way. Finally reaching the long ledge, he scooted backwards until he was snug against the wall. Moving delicately, and with great care, he folded himself into position. A man standing on the shoulders of a second man would still look up to him, and while a fall from here probably wouldn’t kill him, it would easily break his leg, or smash his skull. Once he was set, he motioned for Moen to follow him.

Limber and strong, Moen had no problem with the rocks and was up next to Daro on the ledge in just a moment, practically running up the side. Reaching the top, he leaned over precariously to view Daro’s work. “Careful.” he muttered. “Your father will have me banished from the Clan if you get hurt.”

Moen leaned back towards the wall a finger’s width. Sighing, Daro continued with his work, describing his actions for Moen as he went. “We need to dig a resting place out of the rock for the main trunk.” He pulled the digging stone out of his pocket. It glittered brightly in the sunlight. No one now remembered where it had come from; it had been with Red Cave Clan for far longer than even Shaman had been alive. Nothing seemed to be able to scar or damage its surface, except for an occasional flake or chip, but almost all of the protrusions had been worn off, so that hardly happened anymore. It was used for breaking flint stones into knives and spearheads and scrapers, for polishing and grinding holes into stones, and for amusing children with the way it seemed to glow from the inside whenever held up to the light. He motioned to the wall in front of them. “Some rocks are very hard, and it takes days of grinding to make even the slightest hole in them. This rock,” he pointed to the coarse, reddish-yellow sandy layers that made up the walls of the hill, “is crumbly, and easy to dig out.” He ground the digging stone against the rock, and bits of stone and dust crumbled away easily. In short order there was a good-sized pit gouged into the hillside.

He handed the stone to Moen. “Now you do it on the far side.” Moen nodded and scampered across the hillside to the far end of the entrance. The boy quickly got the hang of the tool, and dirt and pebbles started skipping down onto the cave entrance below. Daro watched for a time as the shadows grew longer across the hill. Suddenly, he realized that the sun was already well on its way towards the western plains. Scowling, he turned back to the boy. “I want to have this gate up before the hunters return. That’s enough digging; let’s get the main pole in place.” Moen nodded again, and clambered back down to the ground.

This was the part where Daro was most grateful for Moen’s help. It would have been even easier with Shara to assist, but the two of them would suffice. They lifted the main pole into the air, positioning one end carefully against the first hole. That was the easy part. Now, they had to carry the other end up the hillside, and slide it into place at the groove that Moen had just dug.

This was a job for the young, and Daro carefully directed Moen as the boy lifted the pole carefully into place, inching his way up the hillside. Even for a strong young man this was hard work, and Moen was soon grunting as he crept upwards, pushing and shoving the heavy log before him. Finally, he reached the resting spot, and shoved the log into place.

Except it didn’t go in. Daro looked closely, and saw that the groove that Moen had dug wasn’t quite large enough. “Moen. Come back down. I’ll fix the groove.” Moen shook his head. “No. I can do it.” Reaching into his leg pouch, he pulled out the digging stone and started to scrape away at the rock. He was balanced very awkwardly, trying to hold up the pole with one hand, dig with his other hand, while using his knees to hold himself up.

Daro grimaced, almost wincing in fear at the chance the boy was taking, but was little he could do at this point. When the pole finally slid into place, he breathed a huge sigh of relief. “See?” said Moen, almost haughtily as he slid down again and handed the stone back to his teacher. “No problem.”

Daro nodded, “Good job.” He had been that young once. “Now we need to attach the doors. Take these vines, and slide them behind the main pole all along its length. We will pull the doors up next to them and tie them in place.” I should have had the vines already on the pole when we put it up in the first place. There was nothing to do about it now. Moen was quick at the task, and in a few moments had snuck a series of vines behind the main pole. And now the doors.

The man and the boy lifted the doors into place, and they fit snugly against the pole. Once again, Moen climbed up the hillside to start tying the left door to the pole. To save time, Daro climbed up the opposite side to work on the right. Inching his way along the pole, he stretched out to reach the furthermost vine, and carefully threaded it through the door frame, carefully tying it into place. He worked steadily through two more before the pole lurched underneath him. Immediately he hugged the pole with a death grip and looked up at Moen. Too late, he realized the boy was standing on the pole, yanking on the vine to pull the knot tight. Anger surged through Daro. “Moen! What are you doing? Get down, you’ll get yourself killed.”

Moen ignored him, and pulled on the vine again. The vine snapped from the tension, and the boy gasped in fear as he flipped backwards through the air, falling headfirst onto the stones below. Daro slid down the doorframe, landing hard, rushing to his apprentice’s side. Blood dripped from the side of Moen’s mouth, and his eyes stared emptily off into space, twitching slightly. A pool of blood slowly formed around the back of his head from where it has smashed against the rocks. “S-Sorry.” the boy whispered through a mouthful of blood. “You… right.”

“Hush. Don’t move. Don’t speak. I will get help”

Daro looked up – two of the women had rushed up to help. Shrieks and screams echoed from nearby. “Find Shaman!” he cried. “Hurry!” They nodded, and one rushed inside the cave, the other running out onto the plains searching for the healer.

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Sunday, February 12th, 2006 at 6:58 pm.
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