SANCTUARY

2-GUR, MESSENGER OF DEATH

The slingshot spun quickly for a brief moment, releasing the projectile that impacted the bird that was feeding on the bank of the creek.

A multicolored flock took flight as Mostaggeda approached.

-Hello, lunch - as he leaned over to take his prey, the young man drank and dipped his head to escape the strong sun for a moment.

Three years had passed since he had settled with the beautiful Ela in that little paradise. He walked slowly to the entrance of the cave, plucking the bird; a white column of smoke rose lazily from the entrance of the cave.

She was grinding wheat seeds with a heavy stone mortar, when she heard the young man's footsteps, she interrupted his activity.

-What is it that my favorite hunter brings this morning? - The girl turned towards the entrance, a small stain of flour on her cheek gave her a childish appearance that brought a smile to Mostaggeda.

-We shall have a succulent heron, my queen - he gently wiped the young woman's face.

-I told you not to call me queen; Ela smoothed her long brown hair.

- The queen no longer exists, she belongs to the past.

-Mostaggeda remembered that at the time he met her, Queen Ela shaved her head, looking exotic and severe, very much like the queen of a vast territory.

Both had adapted to the new life in that little valley, far from other people, trying to forget the destroyed city, the deaths and the suffering.

During his brief hunting expeditions around, the young man used to remember his friends in the delta of the great river Hiteru, and he would have gladly travelled to the village, but he knew that this could mean doom for Ela. He would never abandon the girl, for whom he had been deeply passionate, and no one would understand that the cold and cruel Queen Ela had become a sweet woman who only yearned for peace; she seemed to have resigned herself to her destiny by renouncing motherhood, accepting the curse of her people.

After feeding the couple used to rest inside the cave, leaving time to pass, while out there the sun burned the meadow and life seemed to stop. In those hours the silence was complete, broken only by the monotonous song of the cicadas.

The relative abundance of resources in the little valley allowed them to enjoy periods of idleness; the couple could subsist on the meat of a goat or gazelle for several days. She had made many baskets of fiber, which Mostaggeda traded every two or three months with the fishermen of the coast, two days away, from where she returned with salted fish, terracotta containers, in addition to seashells, one or two huge turtle shells, and the valuable and important salt. In addition to the baskets, Mostaggeda offered obsidian objects, and sometimes gazelle meat and other animals that were not found in the vicinity of the sea.

Mostaggeda preferred to avoid the curiosity of fishermen, so he made this trip only once or twice a year and never allowed Ela to accompany him. It was a difficult journey, as he had to climb the mountain by a makeshift trail, to reach the fishermen's village on the other side, transporting meat and other objects without having pack animals. It would still take millennia for these animals to be domesticated.

During the long afternoons, while waiting for the sun to descend, and then trying to hunt something in the creek, Mostaggeda dedicated himself to working with stones, making arrowheads and spears, scrapers or knives, while Ela prepared clothing with skins, using bone needles to join several pieces. It was a pleasant and peaceful routine; both had built a small cabin inside the cave, which kept them safe from the natural moisture that seeped from the heart of the mountain, forming annoying leaks that slowly, over the centuries, were forming long stalactites.