The Wild Hunt (Part One)

Fried Rice

Chief Na-Wakee rode ahead of the warriors. His large mare galloped at a steady pace. It's large, round hooves clamped along the earth and threw up damp soil in its wake. It was a massive beast with a white coat, speckled with blue-grey splotches. It's mane was braided down its thick neck and was twisted around the chiefs hand and wrist. He used it to guide the mare forward while his other hand held his bow across his lap. An arrow knocked between his fingers.

Yetae rode just behind him on his own horse, similar to his fathers, but smaller and darker in color. His bow was slung around his back and he glanced my way, giving me a short nod.

I rode in the way back with the other slaves. Our horses pulled carts behind us. We were responsible for carrying the stolen goods as well as the pots of fire powder used to burn huts and dwelling places, whole fields if we needed to- if Chief Na-Wakee felt like it.

"My sister lives in Cona." The slave who rode beside me spoke.

He was a young man with sharp cheekbones and deep set eyes. He looked frail and hardly a man. Scars painted his face and bare arms. The Tewase mark was burned into his upper shoulder and it's pink ridges glistened with sweat. I think he said his name was Goapo.

I stared ahead at the throng of horses, men and woman. Everyone had black kohl smeared down their arms and face and neck. Marked for battle and camouflage. Night began to spill across the sky and stars twinkled to life. Cona was a large farming village that stored most of the palaces grain. The people who lived there farmed the land and catered to King Mansee.

"Do you think they'll kill her?"

His voice was quite, meek. The mark on his shoulder meant he had been taken from some village Tewase had raided and forced him to submit to Chief Na-Wakee. It was either that- promising a life of servitude or his head on a spike.

I wasn't sure what to tell the poor guy. I looked down at my plain, brown horse and ran my fingers through its mane.

"There's nothing you could do to stop him if he ordered it to happen."

It was the truth. Once Chief Na-Wakee called an order it was set in stone. Anyone who disobeyed was beheaded then their head placed on a spike and returned to their birth place.

Goapo grimaced and pressed his chin against his chest. Tears began to stream down his face and I shifted in my seat feeling suddenly uncomfortable.

Did this guy want to die?

"Hey! Hey. Enough. Your tears won't save your sister."

The poor guy wiped furiously at his eyes, sniffling. I reached over and bumped his shoulder with my first. "I heard we were only taking, burning and then leaving."

It was half a truth. Whoever was guarding the store house would die and anyone nearby to witness what was happening would die.... and then of course there was the whole kill a few just to leave a point thing. But I'm sure this guys sister wouldn't be near where we were at.

Goapo half smiled before retreating back to his sullen silence.

Hope was a funny thing.

I studied the forest around us. Mirans forests were thick and lush. Trees towered over with wide, spreading canopies. Their leaves and vines hung like ribbons in the air, reaching for one another across clearings. Large, flat leaf plants sprouted from the dark, damp soil and budding flowers spotted the surface and crevices of roots. There was always a hum that could be heard, especially at night. The forest seemed to come alive. Speak. The branches chattered against each other, the leaves whistled to one another. The bugs and animals sounded their presence in low, chirping noises and skittering squeaks and squawks. If I could shrink down and walk through my veins, the sound of life pumping through the arteries would imitate what I heard in the forest at night.