TSSotTTT: Secrets

7

"It's time."

Inyan looked up from where he was sitting. Two wooden folding beds were the only furniture in the log cabin where he had been attended to by the Medicine Man.

The man's wife had gifted him with a thick tawny-colored tunic with fringes across the chest. The tunic reached his knees. Inyan still had his battered dark trousers and leather loafer. A woven cord served as a belt. Surprisingly his hair was long and parted in the middle and braided.

The Medicine Man and his wife wore similar attire except they had leather strapped sandals on. They smiled warmly and beckoned for him to follow them.

Inyan stood on shaky legs. His heartbeat was erratic and his hands were clammy.

"Come on, young man. I know you're nervous but the ceremony is about to begin."

Inyan nodded and took a deep breath. This was it. Everything was going to be alright. He staggered out of the cabin for the first time since he was brought there two days ago. The fresh mountain air caressed his wan cheeks. Inhaling deeply, he noted the scent of pine and wet grass, as well as aromatic food and beverages. On top of that was the smell of burning wood but it was fragrant, not at all disturbing.

Before him was a circular plaza. A medium size bonfire burning in the middle of it. Log cabins surrounded the plaza, two layers deep.

It was now late in the year. The cold season was approaching. The cabins were made in a smaller, circular, dome shaped structure that looked like a beehive or an upsidedown basket. It was partially sunken into the ground. Being smaller and lower than the summer homes, it was easier to keep warm in winter.

Pack members sat on woven colourful mats or blankets spread on the ground circling the bonfire. Many of the women were similarly attired in the same tunic but there were others with more decorated chests and sleeves.

"Come," the woman urged and took his hand. She proceeded to the middle of the gathering, and as soon as Inyan reached the centre, she gave a slight bow to the men and left him, to go back to her own mat where her husband and young daughter were waiting.

The Chieftain stood before the crowd. He was a large, muscular man. He was wearing a breechcloth and leggings, a short tunic covering up his tribal tattoos and moccasins. His hair was shorn on the sides but had a top knot hairstyle. Inyan felt like a dwarf beside him.

The Chieftain was the reason he was there. He found him unconscious at the foor of the mountain where the tribe dwelled.

"Young man," his deep voice boomed. He extended his right hand towards Inyan. The teen wiped his hand on the side of his tunic before placing it in his great paw.

He gave a little speech as to how he came to rescue me.

"My dear child," an Elder said. "It is our pleasure to welcome you into our tribe. We offer you friendship, protection and provision and we expect your loyalty henceforth. From now on you are one of us. I bestow upon you the name of The Stone Carver."

One of Inyan's eyebrow twitched. They noticed his tinkering with some rocks he found to occupy him during his recuperation.

His thumb was cut and his blood dropped into an earthen cup, to be mingled with that of the Chieftain's blood. The Elder chanted some ancient words in their language over the cup.

The temperature in the high altitude went down significantly by night fall. Inyan was thankful for the thick tunic and the warmth the bonfire offered.

Strong energy surrounded him, caressing him tenderly like a mother towards her child, before it finally settled within his chest.

The cup's content was poured onto the bonfire. An elderly woman waved a clump of old grass and herbs, purifying him with the smoke from the fire. The fire hissed and crackled, letting out white smoke and we all watched until the smoke slowly became translucent and disappeared.

The tribe members clapped their hands to welcome him. Two of them came forward and encircled him, then let out a welcome howl. Soon drums started beating and gourd and turtle shell rattles began to shake. Several men and women started to dance and took his hands. He was made to join in their dance and although he was still in shock, he wholeheartedly joined them.

"Do you notice that all the young girls' eyes are on you?" one of the young men whispered. "I'm not sure I will like you very much if you steal the girl I have set my eyes on."

At first Inyan thought he was being serious but he could see his eyes sparkling with mischief. The others laughed, punching Inyan playfully on his upper arm.

"Come on, let's join the party," the young man said, dragging Inyan towards one of the blankets spread on the ground.

There were about twenty cabins surrounding the little clearing. Each household had brought forth dishes and drinks of all kinds as they all sat on the mats or blankets on the ground around the bonfire, enjoying our meal.

"Have you tried the pulque?" another asked.

Inyan shook his head. "No. What is it?"

"It's an alcoholic beverage made from the fermented sap of the maguey (agave) plant. Here, have some."

He handed him a clear glass with a milky liquid inside. It was foaming a bit on the top. Inyan took a sip and it tasted quite sour. They laughed at his scrunched up face.

"You'll get used to it. Drink up."

Inyan didn't want to be rude so he accepted the drink and only took an occasional sip.

Throughout the evening he had the uncanny feeling of being watched. He looked around him but everyone was having fun and nothing was amiss. He shrugged the feeling off as unfounded. Maybe he was just new to the area. Maybe it was the spirits of the ancestors looking down on him.

Why am I here? What do they want from me? More importantly, how am I supposed to go back to my own world? His brain bombarded him with so many questions and yet he had no one to answer them.