Winter's Tree

2 - Newcomer

Ayessa squatted atop the stone, watching the party below approach. Four men and a boy. Small enough to not appear a threat, large enough to deter trouble. Smart.

Absentmindedly, she scratched at a patch of dirt on the surface of the rock. They themselves were six. Herself, her father, her brother and three of the best hunters from their clan.

Beside her, Oyeka spat through a gap in his front teeth.

"What will they bargain, you think?" Ayessa asked.

He shrugged. "If they come from the west, fish?"

Ayessa squinted into the sun, dipping low on the horizon before her. "From the big water?"

"Maybe."

She had seen the big water once. Like two skies, one above and the other reflected below, stretching out right to the edge of the earth where it tumbled over and ceased to be, as all things did that fell over rim of the world.

She smiled at the memory. It was one of her most treasured. Her heart had sang that day, to see its wonder.

"Pay attention," Oyeka said, jabbing her in the leg with the butt of his spear.

She frowned at him and ostentatiously rubbed at her thigh. Only a man this season past and already he thought far too much of himself. Gone was the brother who would help her steal Taboua's berry paste from the pot, replaced instead by this too serious imposter.

When the travelers were close enough, her father rose and approached them. He carried with him no spear, but Umeke and Yaoum held theirs ready, just in case. It would not be the first time friend became foe. A sidelong glance at Eshemwa told her he was still seated on the slope of the grass covered hillock, spear held loosely across his knees. He appeared casual, but it would be a mistake to dismiss him. Eshemwa was the best of them.

"We greet you, friends," her father said, spreading his arms wide and holding his hands open to show he held no weapon.

The other men halted and their own leader approached, arms and hands also held wide. "And greetings to you as well, friend."

Her father smiled then, and the other man smiled with him.

"It has been long this time, Bene," her father said. "I thought the seasons had finally swallowed you."

Bene laughed. "No, not yet, my friend, although they have not been kind either."

"I am sorry to hear that. How is Pakwa?"

"Dead," Bene said bluntly. "Some many seasons past now."

"Ah," her father said. "It burdens my heart to hear it."

"As it does mine," the man admitted, "but come, we have not travelled all this way to burden hearts, let us trade and share news."

The trade was important, but it was the sharing of news that was most valued. The last snows had been long, and it had been many moons since another clan had crossed their tract.

"Sit with me," her father said, "we will eat and tell each other stories."

He led Bene to the base of the hill and the two men sat cross legged on the ground, each man facing the other.

"Tell me, Atua," Bene said, "have the days felt colder to you?"

"They do, but then, we are not young men anymore, Bene, and as old men, perhaps we feel the cold more keenly, no?"

Bene laughed ruefully. "There is truth in what you say, friend, but even my young men have complained of it this last season."

Atua sighed. "As have mine. I suppose there may be merit in it after all, but what are we to do if the Gods decide to freeze us?"

"Not much," Bene agreed, pulling out a small pouch of fruits and nuts and placing it open on the ground before him.

Atua returned the gesture with his own pouch, and each man ate from the others.

The two men shared news. Bene from the East and Atua from West. They arranged a trade of some small items. Fish, pelts, spear heads. The sun had sunk onto the horizon by the time they neared a conclusion.

Atua made to stand, but Bene forestalled him with an uplifted hand.

"I would have one more favour to ask, Atua, if you will it."

Atua lowered himself back to the ground. "I am listening."

Bene turned and waved the boy forward. He came and stood next to Bene.

"The boy is my wife's brother's son. Our clan grows too large, and it would serve him best to find a mate in another place. Would you have him?"

Ayessa eyed the boy. He was fit, if small, but she thought his full lips looked, perphaps, a touch sullen. It was not uncommon to trade people from clan to clan. Her own clan had done it and would likely do it again. Great benefit came from bringing in outside blood.

Atua eyed the boy. "What is your name?"

"Makaro," the boy replied.

"Are you a good hunter, Makaro?" her father asked. "Will you strengthen our people?"

Makaro puffed out his chest with the pride only a boy could have. "I am a great, hunter, maitze. I will make your people strong."

Umeke hid a smile, but Atua's face remained solemn as he said, "Then I welcome you, young Makaro."

Makaro beamed.

Atua stood and gave some distance to the men of the other clan, so they could make their farewells. He approached Ayessa.

"I would have you walk back with him, yayaza."

Beloved daughter. She knew what he really meant was 'do as I say'.

She sighed, and he patted her cheek affectionately.

After Bene and his hunters took their leave, she approached Makaro.

"Come," she said, waving him to follow her, "jarai"

Obediently, he fell in beside her.

"I am Ayessa," she said, "Atua's daughter."

She pointed to her brother. "That there is Oyeka, my brother. And there is Umeke and Yaoum. Back there, behind us, is Eshemwa. He is our greatest hunter."

Makaro glanced over his shoulder before turning back to face her.

"I will be your greatest hunter one day," he boasted.

"Father says only fools boasts."

That deflated him a little, but not as much as she had hoped. He eyed her from the corner of his eye and jutted his chin out.

And then Ayessa understood. He was not boastful, he was afraid. Everything he knew was gone and his bravado kept him from tears.

She put a hand on his arm and he turned his face up to look at her.

"You are not a fool, Makaro," she said. "I too wish to be the best hunter in the clan."

He smiled at her then, a crooked smile with one side of his mouth reaching higher than the other. "Maybe we are both fools then."

She laughed, and he joined her. His was an easy laugh. One that drew you in. She looked to him then started. His face had changed, no longer a face. Smooth, dark skin became rough, brown bark. Leaves sprouted from his eyes and mouth and then he was gone. She was gone.

She stood again at the base of the tree, one hand still extended, hand cupping the tender young buds between her fingers.

Her heart ached at his loss.