He Had No Name

The Boy had no name, for he had yet to be deemed worthy of it. The Boy would seek his name. The name that the Blessed Spirit would give him. His elders had taught him, that he must earn his name. For the name that he would wield would be sacred. He must aspire to be given a name that was worthy of his family, and his ancestors. He quested, for his name. He must find it.

The cold from the mountains had fallen into the valleys. It brought crisp layers of frost that lay deep in the mornings and came early in the nights. It was not the bitter colds that would come with the winter. But the haunting chill that shown the abandonment of the summer grasses. The game would move into the well protected basins of the mountains and would leave the harsh winds of the plains. The Boy’s people would move soon, to follow the game and to protect their people from the bitter cold of the winters.

He wore animal skins that covered his entire body. In the times of the summer suns he might go half clothed or only with a loan cloth. But it was not the time of the summer suns, it was the time of the falling skies. When the leaves danced in the wind, and the morning cold flew and danced with the leaves. The morning frost leaving its presence across the land and falling in the skies with the leaves. He also wore an animal coat, with the hair well-enact and turned inward, as a strong insulation against the cold. The Boy might have had an animal blanket with him, but he had left it behind, opting to travel lighter, and to show that the weather would not make him weak.

Yet, he felt weak as the discomforting cold woke him every morning. But a man was not deterred by simple inconveniences like coldness. And for him to have a name, he must be strong. The Blessed Spirit must see him be strong, to rise to the glories of his ancestors. And the warriors of his clan. He had to show strength and independence from the life of a child. Only a man could come back with the name.

He had been searching for his name for six days. The seer was supposed to find him and bestow on him the name that he would present to his people. The elders had said that the seer might come to him in a dream, or a vision. Perhaps the seer would come to him as an animal and speak to him. The elders spoke of the seer with reverence, and solidarity. They would not say if the seer was a mighty ancestor of his people, or if the seer was a great spirit. But they spoke that they had all encountered the power of the seer, and all those that truly sought their name would find it. Some had found their name in a day or two, others had taken five or eight. He didn’t know any of the elders that had taken longer than eight days. He feared that if he didn’t find the seer in the next two days, he would be left nameless.

He had left valleys and climbed the ridgelines up the mountains. It was colder up here, but there was game. Although he spent his time seeking, and praying to the Blessed Spirit, he did hunt if necessary. The Boy knew that seeking the seer involved depravation of the mind and the body, so he did not hunt often. Only enough to sustain himself. He had spent the third day in complete contemplation, sitting on the flat side of a rock out cliff overlooking the rolling foothills out over the plains. Still the seer hadn’t come.

He ran with the wild rabbits and yearling deer. He danced with the grouse in the thickets. He reached for their wisdom and communed with their spirits. Could the seer be among these creatures? Would they show him the wisdom of the forest and reveal his truth to him? He believed the Blessed Spirit would show him how to find the seer.

He was sitting by the river, seeking the spirits of the water, that they might show him wisdom. He waited by the edge of the rushing waters, meditating on the Blessed Spirit. He watched and listened for hours, as the night fell and the cold with it. Most nights he went without a fire, but he had been moving most of the days. He had spent the day by the river, seeking the guidance of his people’s spirits. The Boy knew that he would need a fire, for it would be particularly cold this night. He prepared to build a fire and eat the small amount of meat he had salted from three days ago. As he prepared, he heard the stirring of the wind. He felt the presence in the air, a mysterious force. Perhaps the seer had finally found him?

The fire crackled. He kept it small, manageable. It was hard work to build and maintain large fires. This was small, built in a protected cropping of rock, casting the heat back away from the rock. Small to make sure none of their enemies could see. His enemies should not be here this time of year, but one always followed the same practices of survival. The Boy knew that if you always planned to survive and to protect your people you would less likely be victim of caught unaware. Preparation and caution were methods his ancestors and his people used to stay alive.

The presence he felt never left him all night as he stared into the fire. But the seer did not speak to him. He did not reveal himself. In the deepness of the darkness, he finally fell asleep. The presence he sensed seem to close in on him in his dreams. He could feel that he was being watched, even in the depths of slumber. The presence was with him, haunting him.

He woke, trembling slightly in the cold of the morning. He could still feel the presence. It was the first thing he noted when he woke. The seer watched him. It must be that, the seer had come at last. But why did the seer not reveal itself the previous night? He stumbled around his small camp to warm himself in the morning, walking to the river to drink. He felt that he had been watched the entire night. The eerie presence was almost becoming familiar. The Blessed Spirit would lead him to find his truth, to find his name.

He had the urge to find a place of deep power. Where the Blessed Spirit’s presence would be close. Perhaps the seer would show himself to The Boy. His people told tales of a place between the mountains, a place of great power that few would venture to because it was considered a holy place. The Boy was one to two full days hike away from the sacred saddle that nestled between the mountains. His fear that it would be more time than anyone he’d known to find their name, but he didn’t dare return without a name. One last push to find his truth, he must succeed.

For two days he traversed the mountains. Slowly climbing higher, finding ridgelines that he could travel for miles with relative ease before having to climb around or over peaks. The presence never left him. He knew that if he could just turn around fast enough, he would be able to see the seer looking at him. The cold was much more acute at these heights and he greatly regretted leaving the blanket behind. At last he saw the place between the mountains. A sweeping pass saddled between two ridges that dipping low between the mountains did not sink to the valley floor. He was slightly above the saddle and would have to hike down to it, burrowed halfway up the mountain, well cloaked and protected from the elements. The Boy knew he didn’t want to upset the great spirits in the area or betray the trust and honor of the Blessed Spirit, so he would only go into the place between the mountains with discipline and honor. He decided he would spend the night above the place between the mountains, and hike down in the morning.

The presence followed him to the place he picked to camp. He had sworn he had heard the seer walking behind him, deftly quiet, but not unnoticeable to his keen senses and training. High on the side of the mountain he again opted to start a fire this night. He was protected in tree cover, but the nights were still cold this high and this late in the year.

As the fire burned, he thanked the Blessed Spirit for the abundance during his search for his name. He asked that the seer show herself, so that he might seek her wisdom. He requested the seer guide him with his understanding and wisdom. That the seer would use his knowledge to reveal his destiny. She would teach him what it was to know his name. The Boy asked diligently for the name of his ancestors.

He could feel the presence keep a slight distance from the fire, but as the fire grew smaller in the late hours of the night the presence grew closer and bolder. The Boy could no longer stay awake though, for it had been an exhausting day seeking the place between the mountains. He drifted to sleep, feeling, and knowing that the presence of the seer was ever nearer.

He woke suddenly. The Boy wasn’t sure he had slept at all. Deep pain wracked his entire body. He screamed. The Boy had never been in so much pain, he screamed in pure agony. The wolf thrashed and ripped at his leg. The boy spun on the ground with his other leg and kicked the beast across the face, pushing it off him. The vicious monster didn’t hesitate to reengage. The wolf immediately jumped for The Boy’s face and biting deep gouge marks across his face.

The Boy panted in pain as he thrust his entire body at the creature, tossing it under him. The thrust put weight on his leg, and he let out another crippling scream. His leg felt entirely destroyed, and the pain was almost enough to render him unconscious. As he fought for awareness the beast swung around and attacked again. The animal went right for the abdomen and left lashes from teeth and claw marks. The wolf raked his claws over and over across The Boy as he thrashed his head back and forth and repeatedly bite and thrashed.

The Boy grabbed the knife he had at his belt and plunged it deep into the beast’s side. He used the last of his strength to rapidly pull it out and plunge it back in as many times as he could. He might have thrust the blade ten times; he might have done it twice. He wasn’t sure. The wolf made a painful yip as the blade went in and immediately jerked away.

The wolf, his eyes fiercely reflecting off the embers of the fire, backed away. The Boy and the wolf stared at each other, both breathing deeply and in intense pain. The Boy, knowing he wouldn’t be able to walk away, was tying cloth around his leg and using a stick to twist it tighter than he could be able to manage any other way. The pain pulsed through him and horrifying agony.

As he collapsed back to the ground, his eyes met the wolf’s eyes again. It was at that moment that he knew fear that he had never known in his life. The beast moistened his lips with his tongue, staring directly at The Boy, slowly bent his head to the ground while never losing eye contact, and then turned around and walked away.

He let out a ragged breath, and the pain finally overtaking him. He tried to fight as much as he could, rolling over and throwing every bit of wood he could reach into the cinders. But he could fight it no longer, and the unconsciousness overtook him as he passed out from the pain and exhaustion.

Story Image Credit (Randomly Discovered On Internet):

Amirouche Mokdad ([email protected])

https://mokdadamirouche.artstation.com/projects/8eOPE