Master-of-beasts had always been a little eccentric, and his latest project had done nothing to dispute that fact. He had spent part of the evening removing the sinews of the Igeel he had hunted during the day, and then he had strung them to a bendable wooden stick he had found.
The hunters had gathered around him, as he had claimed that he was about to demonstrate a mighty weapon.
I was leaning towards one of the huts, observing my mate thumb the string. As he flicked it, it made a note that sprang through the air. Was this weapon of his some sort of music instrument? I let my brow furrow slightly.
But I knew better than dispute the strange magic Master-of-beasts had demonstrated so many times before.
Like the time he had shown me the strange, mystical box called the ‘computer’, which flared up with weird squiggly lines and pictures upon touch.
Master-of-beasts had claimed that these squiggly lines was his language, English, and although River had thought it insane at first (after all, lines can’t be a language. They don’t even have a sound!) master-of-beasts had promised her that he’d teach her how to interpret the lines once she had learned to speak his language well enough.
River was startled out of her thoughts from the sound of a twang, followed by the cheering of the hunters.
I looked up to see that master-of-beasts was bending a stick, tipped with flint, out of a tree where it had become buried.
I could see that the younger hunters were now grouping around him, and he gave one of them the sinew-clad arc and the tipped stick.
Whispering Wind was standing away from the others. It seems like he is really intent on keeping the grudge towards master of beasts for “stealing” River away from him.
To be honest, though, I had never really liked Whispering Wing. He was far too full of himself, and I knew for certain that he’d never be able to love anyone as much as he loved himself.
I was content in seeing his agony at Master-of-beasts’ miracles.
I was now watching as the other hunters tried to draw back the sinew, arching the wooden stick further. Master-of-beasts was calmly instructing them, although his vocabulary and pronunciation was still those of a child.
Though, I had to admit, it was endearing to her that he still tried.
The sinew was released, and River was amazed to see the stick flung forwards, burying itself in the tree again.
This weapon would help the hunters, indeed, if it could fell a beast from further away than they could throw a spear. Master-of-beasts now came walking up to me, and swept me up in his mighty, muscular arms. I wrapped my arms around his neck as he spun around once, spinning me with him.
The momentum of the swing caused a tickle in the bottom of my stomach, and I couldn’t help but giggle.
My gentle giant, I thought to myself.
“What do you call that weapon?”
Master-of-beasts set her down, gently.
“That? It’s a bow and arrow. The bow is the weapon itself, and the arrows are the things fired from the bow.”
“Fired?” I was confused. I hadn’t seen fire when the weapon was used. Maybe it was some sort of spell that was supposed to go off?
Master-of-beasts seem to not understand her question at first, but she can see his eyes sparkle as he understands her confusion.
“Oh! Sorry, I guess a proper word for it is shoots. That’s when something is flung at a high speed, or just accelerates at a rapid pace. ‘Fires’ is a word that pretty much replaced it in many situations in my society because of the gun.”
I had a hard time keeping pace with all the revelations master-of-beasts was pouring out of him.
“What’s a gun?”
Master of beasts takes a while to consider his answer.
“It’s a tube, usually made out of metal, which burns a powder that explodes, which shoots a metal piece through the air just like a bow does.”
He winces for some reason.
“What’s the matter, beloved?”
I’m instantly worried he is in pain, and start looking him over for injuries.
“It’s nothing. It’s just that the description isn’t truly the entirety of what a gun is. A gun is so much more. It comes in many shapes and forms, in many sizes, but it always has the same function. It fires something at high speeds with the intent to kill.
My people have had it for hundreds of years, and it’s been used in countless battles.
It’s a tool for the hunt, but what it’s supposed to hunt is a bit… open to interpretation.”
I looks up to him, then nod slightly.
“So it shoots faster than a bow?”
Master-of-beasts laughs at that.
“Oh, you have no concept for how fast they can shoot.”
The bow wasn’t the only thing that Master of Beasts introduced to my tribe. Later that night he was gathering clay in the river, and then bringing it with him to the campfire in the center of the village.
I must honestly say I was mildly surprised. After all, he had been so intent on staying clean, and now he was dirtying himself with clay?
When I brought this up to him, he just laughed.
“Don’t worry, darling. Plenty of time to get clean later.”
He then winked at me, and I felt my face flush slightly.
I had gotten some experience of what he meant when he winked. He then started to shape the clay, using some water from his water skin to keep it soft in his hands. After a while, he nodded to himself.
And then he put it in the fire!
I was startled. He must surely have burned himself! And why did he destroy the thing he had been working on?
I took his hands in mine, and examined them.
Not a single burn.
Was he completely impervious to fire? I didn’t know. He had always been doing strange things with the flames, and I hadn’t seen him burned once so far.
Though his ‘smoked meat’ had proven rather tasty, and had kept well for much longer than any dead thing has any right to.
I had told the other women of the tribe plenty of tales of him, and he was proving them all true.
“Please be more careful with the fire. You’ll get yourself burnt.”
He smiles, and his pale teeth can be seen through the brown fur surrounding his mouth.
“Don’t worry about me, sweetie. I know what I’m doing. Now watch.”
He points to the fire. I turn around, and his creation isn’t destroyed by the fire, instead it keeps its’ shape. After a while, he uses two wooden sticks to take it out of the flames. He then leaves it for a while.
Then he just picks it up, and hands it to me.
The clay has hardened into something that feels like stone!
It’s amazing the things master-of-beasts can do with fire, and I point this out to him.
He laughs again.
“This is called pottery. It’s something my people has been doing for thousands of years, and if you think this is amazing, just wait until I show you blacksmithing. Or brickmaking.”
He chuckles to himself again, and pours some water in the bowl.
“See? It keeps water.”
He picks it up, and places it in the fire again.
After just seconds, the water is all bubbly, and hot air rises from the bowl.
“What is it doing?”
He smiles a little.
“It’s boiling.
Now watch as I show you my next trick.”
The following days Master-of-beasts was hunting during the sunlit hours with his mighty beast “Crusoe”, and he spent the evenings teaching us more things that we had barely been able to even think of.
He showed us how to make square stone bricks out of clay and fire; he showed us how to make bows, and then how to shoot them. He showed us how to catch fish without having to use speed or skill using something called “nets”.
He then showed us some strange grass that he believed could be tamed and eaten.
He showed us how by gathering the seeds of the grass, and crushed them with rocks. He then mixed the powder with water and baked it in the fire.
The result was something he called “bread”, and he told us that where he comes from, they have mastered bread in a plethora of ways.
In private he expressed his yearning for something called “cookies” and “milk”. I was startled to learn that the latter was the breast milk of an animal.
Master-of-beasts truly is a man of miracles, and he’s mine.