I had been with the tribe for just over a month, and I was now teaching those willing to learn how to read and write.
Many of the villagers had adopted my advice that in order to stay healthy, they had to stay clean, and so illness among the tribespeople had reduced significantly, and already a few houses made out of clay bricks had been erected. I had also chopped down a patch of the forest outside of the village, where I was experimenting with growing various grasses that had reminded me of grain. If only I found one that was suitable for growing, I would be able to introduce the tribe to agriculture.
Merely the thought of freshly baked buns made my mouth water.
I hadn’t had fresh sweetbread in years, and I still remembered my mother’s baking clearly.
And while a handful of hunters had joined with Whispering Wind, the male which had proclaimed himself my rival, most of the tribe was overjoyed with the changes I had brought them.
Now, in my improvised classroom (which was really just an open patch of land, lit so that I could see in the moonless nights) there were a number of natives. Most were women or children, but even a few of the men had joined to learn.
River sat in the front row, with Crusoe resting with his head in her lap.
Poor Crusoe, all this sitting around must be dreadfully boring to him, especially since I can’t really pay attention to him.
This evening I’ve been repeating the alphabet, including simple phrases. And while the alphabet doesn’t have all the pronunciations of the native tongue, I manage fairly well. Or at least that’s what I believe.
Most of the hunters had already left for the hunt, and had taken the bows and nets with them.
This wasn’t unusual, so I wasn’t worried.
I wasn’t worried when only a part of the hunters returned, carrying nets full of fish, the next day.
I was worried when two nights had gone by, and Whispering Wind and his posse hadn’t returned.
The third day I was walking around with a pit in my stomach, and I approached the fishermen to ask them where they had last seen Whispering Wind and his inner circle.
They had been walking towards the sunset, claiming that they were going to more bountiful regions.
Instantly I remembered the rival tribe that lived in that direction, and I felt afraid. I called for Crusoe and told River to wait for me in the village, and I set off.
I ran for most of the day.
I slept uneasily that night. For the first time in forever, I fell asleep without River in my arms, but that wasn’t what unsettled me. It was the fear of what might have happened. Crusoe slept back-to-back with me, and even though we lacked shelter I knew that nothing would be able to sneak up on us.
The morning I continued my high pace, and at noon I could see the smoke of a village up ahead.
It seemed to stem from a campfire just like the one in River’s village. For a moment I felt calmed. Maybe my fears had been unwarranted. Well, better to make sure.
I snuck closer, slowly, not making a sound.
Crusoe came with me, sniffing the ground and slowly pawing ahead.
As we drew closer to the village, my fears were rekindled. I could smell the stench of charred flesh on the wind.
As I exited into the clearing of the village, I could see the devastation. The central fire had been left, and was nearly out of fuel, except the charred bones of a native that lay in it.
The huts had been touched by flame, although their non-flammable nature had saved them.
But that wasn’t what stabbed my heart with icy rage.
Not even the corpse in the flames was the cause.
I stood over the corpse of a young child, no larger than a five year old human.
His body carried several wounds left by arrows.
These natives, no, these monsters
They had used my gifts to murder children.
I looked around and I saw more corpses carelessly dumped in a pile.
Men and children, butchered with arrows.
Tears welled up in my eyes, and a burning hot rage burned furiously throughout my body.
I screamed out in pure rage, and forms started shifting in the huts.
I pulled out my pocket knife.
Not one of the fuckers would be left alive.
Whispering wind awoke to the sound of a howling wind, but he instantly knew that something was terribly wrong as it was soon joined by screams of fear and pain from his hunters. He arose from the Harem he had made for himself from the women of the enemy village, and grabbed his bow.
He stepped outside just in time to see one of his men get his arm ripped straight off, and then get bludgeoned to death with his own limb.
In the center of the carnage stood the pale devil that had come to haunt him wherever he went, but he was not the same. Those strangely green pools that had once been filled with a gentle calm, almost loving, were devoid of any joy or happiness. The sheer hate that shimmered and sparked in them now was enough to shake Whispering Wind to the core.
And the sound, spirits, the sound the pale devil was making was out of this world. The strong, deep tones were replaced with the howling of a great beast. And it didn’t stop as he ripped through the last of the hunters.
Whispering Wind tried desperately to notch his arrow, but he was too slow. The furred beast that had always walked with the master-of-beasts was upon him, and his body was filled with agony as his wrist cracked in its’ jaws.
Then master of beasts was upon him, and held him aloft in a single hand.
Then his world went dark.
I stood in a sea of broken corpses. I had barely registered my actions as I ripped through the hunters in a rage that had filled my mind with red mist.
I had to stop myself screaming, and I let the corpse of whispering wind fall to the ground.
I had ripped his head off with my bare hands, but I held no sorrow for his death.
Instead I dug a dozen small graves, for a dozen small bodies.
Bodies that had no place in the ground for many years yet.
And I wept. While I could hardly see through the tears, I still dug. And I didn’t stop until each and every slain child was safe from the harsh light of day.
While I hadn’t paid any attention, the women of the tribe had vanished into the woods.
I walked back towards River’s village with a heavy heart.
I had wanted to make the natives’ lives better, and this is what they did with it?
I kept walking, my mind filled with the darkest of thoughts.
Why did they have to be so like us?