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As that thought enters my mind, I notice an old sword strapped to his back along with his hunter’s spear. The blade is dull and nicked and has not been cared for properly.
My resolve wavers as I regard the young male’s squared shoulders and clenched jaw. Try as he might to bluster his way through this, he cannot hide his trembling fingers and his darting gaze. It would be my right as an Anuriix warrior to march this male to my chief for punishment for poaching from our lands, but I will not do that. This scared young hunter needs to be shown mercy.
“Stand tall, hunter.” I order and the male snaps to his full height, his wild gaze meeting mine. “What is your name?”
He swallows hard before answering in a quiet mumble. “Sevix.”
I gesture towards the dicro carcass which has finally escaped his hold and fallen to the ground. “Sevix, why are you poaching food from Anuriix territory?”
The male’s gaze drops in embarrassment, and he stutters in obvious discomfort before he stubbornly presses his lips together, his eyes rising and flashing with defiance. There’s an unexpected thread of anger in his voice when he answers. “I am not stealing. The Anuriix owe us. If you had not driven off our game and poisoned the land, we would have food of our own. I’m only taking back what is rightfully ours.”
I bristle at his accusation even as his words confuse me. I don’t know what this male is talking about. The Anuriix have not driven off any creatures from other territories or poisoned anything. Even though the Ancestors left their home world far behind, we still uphold the values that were so common on it, and to deprive anyone of food would be cowardly.
“What nonsense do you accuse us of? We have done no such thing.” My voice is most likely harsher than it should be if I want to get any answers from this young male hunter, but I ask anyway.
The male draws to his full height, which only reaches to my chest, before answering. “Your tribe invaded our land and forced our game off. Then, you poisoned all of the plants on our land that produce food.”
Nothing of the sort has happened nor would it ever, but I can tell this hunter believes it to be true. “The Anuriix have done no such thing. Have you seen your game being driven off? Or your land being poisoned?”
“Well. . . uh, no.” He stutters, his forehead creasing in doubt. “But my chief said it was true. He has proof. He has told us the Anuriix are trying to weaken us so that you can invade our territory and take it for yourselves.”
What nonsense is this youngling speaking of? Could the bump to his head have rattled his thoughts?
“Chief Aarixon?” I ask, confused.
Chief Aarixon and Chief Daggir have always had a healthy respect for each other. It seems out of character for the normally shrewd Aarixon to baselessly accuse another tribe of wrongdoing. My instincts are screaming at me that there is more going on here.
“No, he has gone to dwell with the Ancestors.” The male’s sorrowful words leave me stunned. The last time I saw Aarixon he seemed to be in good health and as strong as a tiniio. Sevix continues, “Our new chief is named Sevvern.”
Ahh, some of the pieces of the puzzle begin to fit themselves together. If that rotten sardo is the new chief, then. . .
I consider myself to be a good judge of character and I have never liked Sevvern.
In the past, when our tribes held games for the kitlings, I took an almost instant dislike of Sevvern. The games were designed to help kitlings practice their skills and learn to cooperate with each other. Sevvern was a smug male even then, with a cruel, lazy streak. At the first games I competed in, I remember him pushing down a much smaller kitling from his own tribe.
He had stolen the kitling’s finds and claimed them as his own. We were competing in a game designed to challenge our ability to track scents – pelts were hidden amongst the foliage and we had to use our abilities to find as many as possible. Many of us kitlings had witnessed the transgression, but we knew if we told on Sevvern he would find us later and seek revenge. So, we all agreed to keep quiet.
Placing my fist against my chest in greeting, I say, “I am Draggar, first warrior to Chief Daggir.” Sevix’s eyes widen in recognition when he hears my name. “I vow to you on my honor as a Laediriian warrior that the Anuriix have no plans to invade your territory. If we did, wouldn’t there be signs that our tribe is preparing to attack? You have obviously spent time in our territory recently. Have you seen any such signs of us building up our forces or stockpiling weapons?”
The young male reluctantly shakes his head while dropping his gaze and mumbling, “No.”
“We have not driven away your game, nor have we poisoned your land. We have no reason to do such a cruel thing to the Xeniiv.” I spread my palm out and slap it against my chest, right over where my secondary heart resides. It is the gesture we use when we are confirmed as warriors, when we are sworn to protect the tribe and uphold the Laediriian code of honor.
I hold Sevix’s gaze as he searches for any sign of dishonesty from me.
After a moment, he slowly nods his head in response and I continue, “I am a fair male, and I would make a trade with you. You may have the meat and any other food that you need. . .” The young male’s shoulders sag with relief before I continue with a thread of steel in my voice, “As long as you ask permission first. In exchange, I would ask you to answer a few questions for me. Do we have a trade?”
Sevix eyes me warily before he finally agrees.
“Good.” I rummage through the pack looped around my shoulders and remove the small medic kit that I carry with me anytime I’m in the jungle. I hold it out to the young hunter and indicate he should use it to treat the still bleeding cut on his forehead. Sevix reluctantly takes it and digs though it until he finds the healing gel we use for injuries.
When he’s finished smearing the gel on his forehead and hands it back, I ask, “When did Chief Aarixon die?”
“He was found after the sun rose, dead in his furs. It happened before the hottest season began, over sixty days ago.”
Chief Aarixon was a formidable warrior and a fair-minded chief who only wanted the best for the males under his leadership. It seems unreal to me that he is actually gone. “How did he die?”
Sevix shakes his head in response, and answers, “Chief Sevvern said he had been in bad health. He confined Chief Aarixon to his bed to heal after he was stricken with stomach pains, but two days later he went to dwell with the ancestors.” At my questioning look, he adds, “Chief Sevvern became our medic during the last hottest season after our previous medic died.”
