Storms of Fury

Storms of Fury::Chapter 4

The days passed like fallen leaves in a creek, swiftly floating past on the billowing water while twirling in an un-patterned, and yet beautiful, dance known only to them. But unlike those insignificant petals that washed away with the waves, each day held new sensations and wonder. In its own unique whirling dance, each day was new and fresh and exciting, no matter how quickly it passed over the water.

Every day, during what minuscule free time Adira had, she would sneak off to the secret camp, hidden nestled in a cover of leaves a twigs, and watch the people. She quickly learned the everyday life of the strange forest dwellers. The men and women had much the same roles, though she saw more men forage and hunt for food, and more women tend to the children. But the men helped cook and clean, and the women would hunt as well from time to time, they treated each other as equals, which was unheard of in Adira's home.

When someone needed help, whether it be with watching their child, preparing a meal, or simply placing something on a shelf too tall for them to reach, they would ask it of the first person capable that they came across; and that person would happily oblige without any talk of repayment or a deal. It seemed that everybody helped everybody for no cost. There was no barter system among them, other than the promise that everyone be ready to lend an unquestioning hand when needed. At first this system had confused Adira greatly, seeing as in her own home, if you did a favor for someone, they were indebted until they paid you with a favor of equal value, an item from their trade, or, in some cases she had seen, their eldest daughter's hand in marriage. But soon, after seeing the system in action, she began to see its logic. One day she saw an old lady that had needed a few places fixed on her roof to keep the late summer rain from seeping in. She had asked a young man for help and he did without complaint, fixing the small holes in no more than three hours. Then, no more than two days later, he needed his shirt fixed, for it had ripped during a hunt. A different lady, only half as old as the first, sewed it for him without even the mention of payment. That same lady, not a day earlier, needed help with a recipe she couldn't quite get right. She ran to the old lady that had commissioned the boy, and she gladly helped her.

Adira saw this cycle form again and again. Never with the same people, or the same problems, or in the same pattern, but it was unmistakably the same cycle, repeated again and again as the days wore on. In this unspoken contract between them, everyone was expected to help when needed, and in this expectation, they could expect the same thing of their neighbors; that was their payment. Help and be helped. No debts, no outlandish requests for compensation, no unsatisfactory payments. She was quite taken with this system, and thought of mentioning it to her father, but forgetting that same thought when she realized she could never explain where she had gotten such a radical idea.

As he studied the people, she began to recognize faces as they passed her hiding place day to day.

The old man she had met on her first visit walked about the camp, conversing with the people, asking them about their children and families; seeing if they needed anything; an extra blanket for the night, more food for the growing 'young ones'-- as he called them. He was kind and gentle, always greeting the adults and children alike with a warm and welcoming smile, and yet a steady gaze that demanded respect; and they gave it to him without hesitation. Some called him Martin, some called him Chief, but he only allowed Justin to call him Old Man; and even then he rolled his eyes, an amused smile playing at his weathered lips.

She eventually caught on to the training pattern. Justin was the main Instructor, but mostly taught the younger children. Old Man Martin, as she had taken to thinking of him, only trained the older people, the more advanced. These small classes, with no more than four or five people at a time, were a rare occurrence, and Adira always followed them eagerly to the small section of flattened land just beside the main village. It was a rare treat to see the Old Man in action, his decades of experience showing as he moved his body with the talents, his wrinkled skin bending and stretching, but with hidden muscles visibly rippling under the surface. His eyes would hold a gleam to them, not unlike Justin's when he instructed the children in his regular lessons. It was the proud gleam of a teacher, proud to show just how much he knew, proud to pass on his great knowledge to his students. She always watched with fascination, whether it be with Justin or Martin. Both were interesting in their own way, Justin holding a youthful playfulness about him when he taught the young ones, inventing games and amusing tasks to teach them while still allowing them to have fun, and Martin holding the ruse of soft and gentle old man in the village, but showing his tough side, his dangerous side, when training the more advanced that wanted to further their training. His eyes, though gleaming with pride during these times, would seem to glaze over and harden to stone, no doubt returning to a time when training was not something just to pass the time, or to learn for the sake of learning, but a time where it was vital for survival. Train hard, or die. She could almost see this tense and dangerous time reflected in his steely gaze; the hardships, the losses. She aways felt a pang of pity for the Old Man when she saw this look.