The Hunt

The morning of Trysa’s first scavenging journey her father hung a pendant around her neck. It was a seashell that he had found and polished and given to her mother when they were young. Trysa hadn’t seen it since her mother died when she was small. She was an adult now, and the Chieftain had decided that she would be part of this scavenging party.

They were going to one of the Ancestors’ villages near the tribe. It wasn’t a long journey, like the huge ancient cities that were days of walking away. She was going with Koba and Avla, and they would be led by Reb who had gone scavenging many times before. Koba was the biggest man in the tribe and Avla was one of the most skilled with the spear. Trysa had watched her practice with the others many times and sometimes helped her chip away flakes from her spearheads to keep them sharp. Reb was one of the older warriors, hardened with scars from battles and hunting accidents long since past.

Trysa had never seen one of the Ancestors’ villages before. Like all of the tribe, she grew up hearing the Wise Woman tell stories of the Ancestors. The Wise Woman was unquestionable in her knowledge, with the longest hair Trysa had seen and a face covered in wrinkles like a dried winter berry. She knew all the plants the tribe could use for medicine, and how the stars changed every night. But most important was her knowledge of the Ancestors. She told the tribe stories of the Ancestors that had been passed down from her mother and her mother’s mother before that.. She entertained the children by telling them fantastical tales of their strength and power, how they could throw boulders with ease and change a river’s course if they so pleased. It wasn’t until she was older that Trysa had heard the darker stories, how years and years ago there were tribes upon tribes of Ancestors that had been wiped out without a trace.

It was them who built the great villages and cities, with walls higher than imagination and hidden riches within. They built great temples, huge buildings and complexes with more rooms than could be counted. This was where the tribe went to scavenge, where they found all sorts of useful things. Her favorites were the bowls and cups, in beautiful colors that couldn’t be replicated with any dye the tribe made. For years Trysa had marvelled at the bounty the scavengers had brought back and now she was finally going to be the one returning to the tribe in victory!

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When they set out, the Chieftain told them to be on their guard, to avoid danger and to walk through the Ancestors’ village with respect. Truthfully she wasn’t sure what walking with respect really meant but she was certain she would walk with some degree of fear which was probably close enough.

The air in the forest hung heavy around them and felt sticky with humidity on their skin. Trysa kept behind Reb and Avla who cut a path ahead of them through the vines that dangled from treetops like giant green ropes. She looked at her feet as she walked, wary of stepping on a venomous toad or snake or any other nasty thing hidden in the leaves. She could hear distant rustles in the trees amongst the whining mosquitoes, probably an animal on the hunt or passing through as they were. It was almost startling when they emerged, the openness of the village seeming to jump upon them from the trees.

It was amazing. It was beautiful but frightening in its scale. Everywhere Trysa looked were buildings, like the huts the tribes lived in but bigger. Everything was sharp angles, flat and triangular roofs jutting out on top of harsh straight walls. They were covered in holes, straight too but open and dark inside like crowds of beady eyes. Most of them were falling apart, just crumbling pieces sticking out of the earth like the shattered parts of a seashell that had washed ashore broken and smoothed by the sea. The group walked through on a huge path, wide enough for a dozen people to fit side by side. It was covered in a thick black matting like a woven reed floor. It had probably been smooth and flat like a floor when the Ancestors built it, but now it was buckled and bunched up like the earth beneath was pushing through. The buildings were blanketed and bound with vines, and some bloomed with moss. It was hauntingly quiet. It was impossible to imagine anyone ever living here, children chasing each other while adults butchered a hunt or knapped tools. Trysa knew they did, of course, and she glanced at their houses out of the corners of her eyes as they passed.

The Ancestors’ homes were strictly forbidden. No scavengers or hunters ever, ever entered them. The Wise Woman told them that they were taboo because the Ancestors’ spirits still dwelled within them. Disturbing them or even worse, taking from them, would anger them and bring disaster upon the tribe. She said that was what brought the Ancestor’s downfall. They needed to scavenge too, to support themselves and their giant cities. So they pilfered from the old ones that had come before them, digging their remains from the earth, burning them like firewood to warm their huge tribes. They disturbed and angered the old ones who punished them with raging flames and floods that buried their cities beneath the sea.

So the tribe only took what they could find outside the Ancestors’ homes, from their temples and their gathering places. This time they were going to a smaller room within one of the big flat buildings, to take some strong shelves Reb had seen. They would be good for hanging meat as it dried, if they could sink the bottoms into the mud and stand them up in the sun. The building was blemished with decay like rotting fruit, the walls cracked and the ceiling falling in. It had surely been beautiful once, filled with wonderful things. Trysa liked the swirling designs on the floor that Reb said were made of tiny pieces of stone.

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It was as Avla and Koba were beginning to lift the shelf that they heard a shattering cut through the heavy silence of the temple. Avla and Koba whipped their heads up and the three of them stared wide-eyed at each other. Reb held his finger up, indicating them to be still as he tilted his ear toward the entrance of the room and listened. Trysa thought perhaps an animal had broken in through one of the holes but they shortly heard the barking of human voices. It was another tribe. Trysa knew that other tribes came to sift through the Ancestors’ villages too, but some were dangerous. Some attacked other tribes, and there were whispered rumors that some even hunted them down for food. Reb gestured to the doorway in the back of the room but before they could lower the shelf and escape it was too late.

There were five of them, bursting through the door with spears ready. One in the front thrust his spear through Reb’s chest. His blood spurted out and he fell to the ground like a stuck boar. Avla screamed as she and Koba dropped the shelf, crushing her leg. She could only squirm and reach up helplessly as the other tribe was upon her. Trysa couldn’t think, couldn’t stop to help her. She felt herself running through the door in the back and squinting as the sun hit her. Koba was behind her but the others were on their heels. They ran, the black path sticky and hot under their feet. She could hear shouting behind her and heard thudding by her side. They must have been throwing stones, or bricks at them. Koba cried out and she heard him fall but she didn’t stop running. Something grazed her right leg, a bright ripping pain and a dizzying lurch to the side. They were behind her. They were right behind her and they were going to catch her and kill her and who knew what else.

She could hear the thunderous pounding of her heart in her ears. Her legs and her chest were burning and she knew they would catch her soon. She had no chance to fight, her spear was left in the temple. She knew her only chance of surviving to see her own tribe again was to escape. She had to hide. She was swerving around a corner and into another building. Her legs had carried her up a smaller path and through a broken doorframe before her mind caught up and realized. She had run into a house.

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The house didn’t look much different from the temple on the inside. Right before her was the beginning of a long passageway and to her left another room. It had a huge opening an arm’s length above the floor that spanned almost the whole front wall. She heard the other tribe’s voices and ducked into a crouch. She curled down to hide her head and held her breath. Everything seemed to happen achingly slowly, like running through sand. Their feet slapped against the ground and their breath was in harsh pants as they ran past. She couldn’t understand what they were saying but their words were short and sharp. One of them yelled from the front and they kept running past the cluster of houses. She waited as their voices faded into the distance. She waited for what felt like a long time in the silence that stretched out once they were gone. By the time she slowly raised her head above the ledge in the wall and peeked out the sun was starting to set. She was safe from the other tribe for now, but she had still barged into an Ancestor’s home.

She knew she should leave, scurry back out the entrance and maybe no bad would come of it. But her curiosity overwhelmed the chiding voice of the Wise Woman in her head telling her of the danger. Her legs burned as she stood, her feet tingling as she shifted her weight. The room she was in was large, but there wasn’t much in it. The one behind it was smaller, with a high ledge along one wall. At one end there was a mass that she realized when she approached it was a pile of broken dishes, maybe bowls and flat plates.

There were some tiny flat pieces that were almost perfectly circular. They were silver and grey, and crumbly to the touch with decay. There was another object though, that was a dull reddish yellow. Its shape reminded her of a clover’s leaf, with two round lobes that tapered into a point. When she picked it up she saw it hung on a thin string made of tiny yellow pieces. It was beautiful. It reminded her of her own pendant, her father’s shell. It was beautiful, and Trysa felt herself captured by it. Was this an Ancestor’s pendant? Had an Ancestor’s father given it to her?

She knew she had to take it, had to slip it into her pocket before she left the house and picked her way back through the village. It would be a long journey to the tribe through the forest, and full of dangers at night. She wanted it with her, this Ancestor’s amulet from lifetimes and lifetimes ago. She felt that it would be lucky, it would keep her safe from harm the way the house had. She felt the Ancestors watching her, but not in anger. They were protecting her, they were pleased that she remembered them. They were glad that all this time later, they lived on.