Orn spun to see a hooded figure standing only a couple steps away.
The man pulled back his hood to reveal a bald man with a salt and pepper beard. “Toln you should not talk when you did not realize I was following you.”
“What makes you say that? I noticed you an hour ago.” His father stepped behind Orn and rested his hands on Orn’s shoulders. “Orn this is Uncle.”
The man smiled down at Orn. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you. Though your father failing to notice I was following since the road does darken my mood a bit.”
Orn looked up to see exasperation plainly written on his father’s face. He winked at his son, when their eyes met. Looking back up at the man his father replied, “Not all of us are hunters, who can just become invisible in the forest.”
“Your mother saw to that.” Irritation was evident in Uncle’s tone, but he let the emotion pass quickly as his next words regained their playful tone. “We are here for meetings, not old regrets. Orn, let me introduce you to the others.”
The older man gestured to the figures approaching from the tree line. The men waved or raised their unstrung bows as Uncle introduced them. The introductions were quick and left Orn without any chance to remember the names of the other men.
Following the quick introduction, Orn’s father and Uncle started talking excitedly about people Orn did not know. This left Orn standing in a crowd of men whose names he did not remember. Orn was not sure what to say, instead choosing to listen to the men as they chatted over their lunch.
He is named Trom. I think … Orn tried to connect a name to the teenager who told a joke that received as many groans as actual laughter. Or was it Jrom?
“Time to go.” Orn’s father said patting him on the shoulder and retying the top of his own pack. “We have a long walk ahead of us.”
…
Just keep putting one foot in front of the other. Orn reminded himself watching where he placed his feet amongst the tree roots. It had been hours since lunch, so he was sore and exhausted. Despite being tired he could not bring himself to ask for another break. When he asked earlier, the hunters had looked confused, glancing between Orn to his father and then Uncle. The older hunter had only nodded. The brief rest was uncomfortable, as most of the hunters did not look at him. The others he caught one glancing at him from the corner of his eyes, clearly looking for what was wrong with Orn.
I wish I knew that asking to stop was not ok. Orn held back a shudder as he thought back to that break. I have never felt so embarrassed.
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Orn carefully placed his foot between the roots on the worn game trail. Sweat fell from the tip of his nose, and he wiped at his eyes with his sleeve to keep the sweat from blurring his vision. Again. He knew he was still slowing them down, but it seemed they did not mind moving slower, only stopping.
Finally, back on a level stretch of trail, he became less concerned with his footing and went back to watching the hunters. They casually moved into and out of the trees along the path. One moment they would be there and the next they were gone only to reappear further down the path. Orn was amazed by how silently they moved, and how effortlessly they kept up their pace.
Wait. Orn quickly counted the hunters he could see. There were only a handful in the clearing…six, seven, eight.
“Are we close?” Orn asked looking at his father who was walking in front of him.
His father stopped speaking to Uncle and looked back at him. Before he could respond Uncle asked, “What makes you think that?”
Orn kept trudging forward, refusing to stop even for a moment. “There are more hunters.”
Uncle laughed, “More hunters you say. How many would you say there were?”
“We started with five.” Orn did not even look at Uncle or his father as he walked past them. “There are at least eight hunters now.”
“What makes you think that?” Uncle asked from behind him. “I only see five.”
“They are coming and going from different sides of the path, and their heights are different.” Orn kept trudging onward. I hope we are close.
“I told you he would notice that one. Now pay up.” Orn’s father said causing Orn to stop dead in his tracks. Looking back, he saw his father extend his hand to Uncle.
The older man grunted and handed a couple coins to Orn’s father. “Fine. He is definitely sharper than you were.”
“You were messing with me.” Orn stood rooted to the spot. I expect it from Kao, but not you.
His father noticed his look and rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. Walking forward he picked Orn up, with one arm. “The hunters always try to see what new hunters notice and how long it takes them. You did good by the way.”
“I … WAIT!” Orn’s sense of betrayal deepened when they turned off the path and Orn recognized a weird rock cropping. “Have we been walking in circles?”
His father cringed, “For a bit yes. You did not notice when they started doing that.”
Orn glared at his father, who was staring straight ahead, purposely not looking at him.
A laughing voice made him turn to see Uncle with a bowl in his hands coming up alongside of them. “Do not be too hard on him Orn. It is a rite of passage for everyone, and you did not do bad.”
“Finally,” a voice yelled ahead of them. Orn turned and saw a group sitting on logs around a fire.
Orn’s father set Orn down on a clear section of the log alongside the others. Then he lifted Orn’s pack and helped him take it off. The air felt cool on his back with the pack gone, but he was too relieved the have the weight gone to shiver at the sudden chill. Looking at this father was trying to find the right words, when a hunter appeared to hand them both a steaming wooden bowl.
“Not the fastest, but you kept a decent pace and only stopped once.” The hunter said approvingly as he produced carved spoons for them. “You are a tough brat. I will give you that.”
Orn was unsure what to say, but the man walked away as if not expecting a response. The comment made Orn feel proud, but he could not completely push away the feeling of being tricked. As the emotions warred inside him, he ate the stew in silence feeling exhausted physically and mentally.
He awoke the next morning to his father patting him on the shoulder. He sat up rubbing his eyes, not remembering falling asleep.