Birth of a Spirit

“When I was a small girl, on dark rainy days as the sun hid over my village, my grandmother would tell stories of a young boy who grew to be the greatest of animals.”

Long ago in a dark forest, a small group of people gathered around a fire. One would not call this a family, rather a collection of outcasts. Five children huddle against the rain, the smallest among them fighting for even a moment of warmth. The loose furs of his covering were soaked from running to this last source of warmth outside the tribe’s circles. As he tried to reach the edge of the whispery fire the larger boys pushed him back, trying just as hard to reach the torch. Eventually, as ones his age often are, he was pushed back away from the huddled mass, into the downpour and the winds.

The young lad became angry, ‘why should I be pushed into the muck?’ he thought to himself, ‘they are no better than me, should we orphans not help each other. Yet they turn on me like rabid dogs.’ Fueled with indignation the boy struck off into the dark undergrowth, ‘Let them be strays, I will be more’.

Under the heavy canopy the boy found shelter from the torrents, but the ground was too muddy to sleep on. He searched for a low branch to get off the ground where hopefully a dryer bed could be found. The boy was deep in the forest when he found a fallen log, caught at an angle with the trees, that ascended high into the branches. Using a bit of cloth from his belt the boy secured two leaves above his head and using another to cover himself he drifted off. The rain was heavy even in his dreams as the clash of thunder roared like the mighty saber-toothed cat that stalked the people who abandoned him.

The boy was woken by a roar like thunder, just some ways deeper into the dense jungle. Frightened and unsure he climbed steadily down the log back onto solid ground. The boy pulled out his stone knife, moving toward the dwindling call. He pushed through the last of the ferns and saw a large, long-toothed cat lying motionless, deep rips in its hide showing that it had lost its battle with whatever creature dared to fight it. Yet, the lad still heard a faint roar coming from the beast. He crept silently forward, circling the large animal. Once around its side he saw a small cat, no bigger than the sack he carried at his side.

The startled little creature jumped back, evidently spooked by the boy’s small, thin frame and shaking hands. The kitten bared its small fangs, barely the length of the boy’s smallest finger. Taking his empty pack in both hands the boy took slow deliberate strides towards it. The kitten arched its body, the hairs down its back and ears pricked up. After a few steady steps the boy lunged for the creature, but it jumped nimbly away from his reach. The boy glared at the creature just out of reach, before he stood and prepared again. The boy crept just a little closer than he had the time before, he sprung a little quicker, and as his bag came down on the ground so did the rest of him. He looked up with one eye, the other covered in mud, and saw the cat again just out of reach.

The rest of the morning was spent failing in new ways to catch the cub; leaving and coming around the other way, jumping down from a high place – which only resulted in him knocking himself out – and even just plain chasing the little thing. Through all his efforts he still had not caught the thing when the sun was high, and his stomach was growing louder than the cub. With no other source of food, the boy took his knife to cut up the mother cat, but as he readied himself physically and mentally the kitten came and bit down on his arm. With a cry more from shock than hurt, the boy flung his arm and the small creature flew back, hitting the ground hard with a cry of pain. Worried he may have inured it the boy ran to the cub, more concerned for it than his own bleeding arm. The cub was dazed but otherwise seemed fine.

“I understand,” the boy said, cradling the tiger almost as big as his chest. “I wouldn’t want you to eat my mother either. But now we need to find something else to eat.”

Though he felt like he had a bond with this creature, abandoned in the world just like him, when the cub recovered its senses it quickly jumped away from him again. In seconds the creature was lost in the bushes and ferns. Alone again, the boy pushed on in search of food.

It didn’t take long to find a tree with fruits aplenty. He also found a sturdy branch leading to a small cave dug into the cliff. With no other way to the entrance, it seemed as good a place as any to call ‘home’. Fortunately, he had been old enough when his mother lived that he learned many skills. Cutting a vine and tying one end to a hand-sized rock, the boy tried to throw the vine over the lowest branch. After many failed attempts the rock finally reached the branch, tying off both ends to a tree root the boy climbed into the canopy. He checked the cave and found that it was empty, with no sign of anything ever living in it. The cavern was deep enough for at least three people to live comfortably and would suit him just fine. After starting a small fire with the few dry branches and dead leaves he had collected along the way, he hung up his damp furs to dry. He went back out to find more vines to make his rope stronger, and then sat back with fruit in hand to admire his work. Down below he saw a small cat staring up at him. The creature had followed him! He watched it begin to climb the tree. It fell several times but eventually reached the branch he sat on, from there it simply watched him.

Slowly the boy reached for his bag, the creature’s eyes sparkled like a sunset as the boy slowly lifted the bag. Steadying himself so as not to fall, the boy lunged from the cub. The cat jumped gracefully under the bag, landing directly on the boy’s head with its hind legs, and ran down the boy's back, almost throwing him off the branch. The cub dashed across the branch-bridge and into the cave. Rubbing his nose after its collision with the tree, the boy followed the cub's trail into the cave. He found it curled up near the fire. The boy sat slowly on the opposite side of the flames, and they watched each other. When the boy went out before dark to gather wood the cat followed, and when he went to gather fruit it followed. The boy went to sleep that night across from a young saber-toothed cat, but in the morning, it was gone.

Figuring the creature had gone for good, the boy left the cave to hunt; as he was tying his knife to a long stick he had carved, the cub returned with a small animal clutched in its teeth. The cub enjoyed its meal as the boy tested his new spear, and when the boy walked into the trees to hunt the cat followed close behind.

The day dragged on and the boy managed to catch a ground bird and drag it back to his home. The cat followed. Once he was back in his cave, he set to work cleaning the bird as best he could from vague memories of his mother doing the same. All the while the cub sat on its side of the fire. When he began to cook the cleaned meat the cub sniffed around the remains.

“Help yourself little one, I have no need for what is left.” The boy said as he wrapped cooked meat in leaves, sliding it into his pack.

The last of the cooked meat he ate himself. Seeing the cub distracted by the bones the boy tried again to catch the beast, he slowly turned, set his legs under himself then he leaped. The young cub escaped again, the bird head in its jaws, darting into the back of the cave. It stayed there until the boy slept again.

The next day was much the same, he looked for wood to make a door, the cat followed. He dried the skins of fruit to hold water, the cat followed. Even when he made multiple trips to the stream, the cat followed. The boy tried every day to catch the cub and he failed each time, but he never gave up. As the seasons went by the boy grew as did the cat, until the once cute cub was now a strong handsome tiger, still it followed him. The boy was now a young man, he still tried to capture his companion although now from time to time he would succeed.

“You know Rain, I think you might be getting a little big. Maybe I shouldn’t feed you on top of what you hunt.” The young man said to the animal beyond the coals, the creature growled lowly as if he understood and did not agree. “Alright, no need to get grumpy, here.” The man tossed a large bird leg over the fire to be devoured by Rain.

He had named the cat the first time he managed to catch him, and he still smiled each time he said the name. Rain and he had been together every day now for fifteen seasons, and he had learned much from his friend. He learned to move silently through the jungle, when to fight another creature, and when to run. He had been saved by Rain when he was attacked by another saber-toothed beast and had, in turn, treated Rain’s wounds from the many fights it had had over the years. The two found peace in their simple life, but the jungle was still a wild and dangerous place where any manner of beast may be lurking.

The unexpected happened one day while the pair was out gathering water very deep in the jungle. The man heard a scream within the trees that he did not recognize, so he quickly set out to look for its source. What he found was a creature that resembled himself vaguely. When it turned, he saw it was a young woman; most likely from the very tribe he had left long ago. The girl was being pestered by small apes and was backed up against a large tree swinging a stick with all her might. Without delay the man charged forward with a loud roar to frighten off the screaming primates. The pests ran into the trees and the girl stood frozen, staring at the wild man before her. He was tall and strong, his hair was long and black as night, his eyes the color of leaves after a summer rain, but he was wild; his clothes were tattered, his skin was scarred across his arms and chest; the light in his eyes seemed like that of a beast.

“You’re safe now.” The man said calmly like when he used to talk to Rain as a cub.

The girl seemed startled but more relaxed than she had been, when a branch snapped behind him the woman screamed again. The man gave a heavy sigh, his head hung low for a moment before turning back to the screaming girl. The man tried to speak over her but when that failed, he stepped forward covering her mouth.

“Rain will not harm you.” The boy said as they locked eyes.

After a moment he let her go, she stood their eyes locked behind him as she spoke, “I was gathering fruits when the monkeys started to chase me, now I am lost and do not know my way out.”

The man looked at Rain, the large lazy cat just looked at him and shook out its fur. Taking that as a neutral answer to his question the man took the girl by the arm and started leading her out of the jungle. When they neared the edge, the cat stopped far back in the trees while the man and woman made their way to the last row of trees. “Is that your village?” the man asked in his deep voice.

“Yes! Yes, it is. Many thanks stranger, to you and your beast.” With a smile the girl ran from the trees back to the safety of her people.

The man stood hiding in the shadows of the trees watching the villagers milling about; women mending clothes, watching children, and preparing meals, while the men sharpened their spears as night began to fall. For a time, the man pondered what his life would be like had he stayed with those people all those seasons ago when he was still a child. Would he have his own family by now or would he have starved living on the fringes of their world? His wonder stopped when he saw a group of children alone near the far edge of the tribe, their clothes tattered, and their eyes hungry. A soft purr behind him pulled the man back into the present, he turned smiling at the tiger behind him, he slowly stepped toward it, then jumped for the cat which nimbly slipped out of his grasp and ran a few feet ahead as the man fell in the dirt. The man chased the cat back to the river to gather water before they returned to their home and their daily lives.

The girl returned to her village and told them of the man who tamed a saber-toothed tiger. The people searched the jungle for days but the only traces they ever found were tracks near the river where a man had walked with a tiger. Over the seasons the man became a myth as more people lost in the jungle were found and escorted by him and his companion to the safety of their village. The man became known as the Spirit of the Jungle, the king of beasts, who ruled the dense jungle, and people began leaving gifts for the spirit whenever they entered his land to guarantee a safe return. Likewise, those who had lost family would bring offerings and prayers to the spirit for the safe return of their loved ones…

While my grandmother had many tales of the Man and Rain, the story of their origin was always my favorite. She would often tell me, on these rainy nights, that if I listened closely, I could hear the roar of the ancient beast hiding in the thunder. When storms came my grandmother would set out a bowl of fruits, so the jungle spirit would protect our home. Then, when the storms passed, she would take me to the jungle’s edge to collect the empty bowl saying, “The Spirits are pleased with those who keep the old ways and respect their land.”

Now that I have grown, I tell these stories to my children and we honor the ways of our ancestors, though we may be far from the jungle we still hear the tiger in the storm.

~Legends of the Spirit