Chapter 16
Pino POV
My age from my past life was a young and spry twenty years old, while Pino’s age was only around sixteen to seventeen years old when I arrived in this body. In the old world I didn’t have much experience with children, while in the current world, child-rearing is 100% a woman’s job.
This all boils down to what I’m doing now, in the middle of winter, sitting in a tree, freezing my butt off, looking for fresh meat.
Ever since the boy, Atilla, came too, I have been working overtime. I’ve had to fashion new winter clothes that fit him, I’ve given up my bed so that he can have a comfortable place to rest and recuperate, I’ve had to make my trips to Lake Tural more and more frequently, and most importantly, food has been running out quickly.
Since it’s no longer safe to bury meat in the ground, my only option became my paltry storeroom. So, the amount of food I can store was effectively cut in half. Moreover, I’ve come to realize that a child’s stomach is essentially a black hole! No matter how much food I put in front of him, he can eat it. Then he sleeps, then he wakes up and eats aga-
A small crunch of dead and frigid twigs being brushed aside resounded through the surrounding area.
Immediately my hunter instincts kicked in as I further slowed my breath, and hugged the tree, making myself appear small. Ignoring the snow battering my face and stabbing my eyes and nose, I searched the pristine blanket for whatever caused the disturbance.
It took a while for my eyes to recognize it, but there was a hare standing just a bit to the left of where I was perched. It cautiously looked around, ensuring no predators lurked in the snow, before pushing its nose in the ground, searching for Aki knows what.
As I slowly analyzed the hare’s movements, as well as its alertness, I began to formulate a plan.
If I jumped down towards it, it would likely sense me before I was in attacking range and run off. I’m nowhere close to as fast as a hare, so that isn’t an option. When it comes to laying traps, any trap is all but obsolete in this snow. Which only leaves spear throwing.
Usually, I am confident in my ability to throw spears, however the weather has gotten colder and windier. That not only affects my accuracy, but also the integrity of my spears. I don’t want them to break due to brittleness, because it’d be all but impossible to make a new one during this season!
After a short amount of deliberation, my need for more meat and hide outweighed my fear of being potentially defenseless.
I reached behind me at my back, and my hand clasped around a firm and trusty spear. I slowly and silently slid it from its holster while also making sure that the prey never left my sight.
When the spear was firmly in my hand, I leaned slightly backwards, stretching my arm out and sideways. After that, I paused in that position, feeling the wind, and making small adjustments. Once I was sure that the spear would strike true, I snapped my arm forward while releasing the spear from my grip.
The spear glided through the air in a beautiful and deadly arc, but I didn’t stop to admire my handy work. Instead, I kept my eyes on the hare, already prepping for my second throw.
‘SHIT!’ I thought as I saw the hare move slightly forward.
This small shift was enough to cause the gliding spear to dig gracefully in the snow, just where the hare had been a moment ago.
I reacted fast, but the hare reacted faster. Just as my second spear grazed the animal, it shot off into the distance.
I didn’t even attempt to chase it, I just clambered down the tree and collected my spears, checking their integrity as I holstered them.
“It’s going to be another long day…” I practically cried as I made my way to my alternate hunting grounds.
Miso POV:
When I first left on this expedition, I never thought my life would turn in this direction. We, the proud Tamul tribe, worship the mighty Banta, the God King of all bantila, ruler of the strong.
The Tamul tribe practices ritual sacrifice, giving up the weakest of our members to the Mighty Banta, it assures that we are protected against his messengers on Mahr-Kelan, and it also pushes us forward in our pursuit of strength.
All of us pursue strength. From the men down to the smallest child, grasping his mother’s tit, seeking nutrients to empower its body. Because of our power and ambition, we were feared, and seen as a scrouge on the steppe. Just as the great cold fell, we were run off our ancestral roaming grounds by the larger tribes of the steppe. Left to freeze to death in the frigid winter.
Many of our men died honorably whilst we fled, but we, the proud Tamul didn’t falter. We knew that with the blessing of Banta, we’d soon return, far stronger due to the tribulation. At that time, we’d surely pay those evil weaklings for their actions!
Moving to the Great Forest was the obvious decision for our clan Elders, its long been told that the people of the forest are the weakest on all Mahr-Kelan, and stories have been told of the great success that many of the steppe tribes who migrated to the Forest accomplished.
Moreover, with our skills with stone working, houses, prey, and firewood would never be a problem. All that was left to do was to find a good place to settle within the forest. Many of the tribesmen battled each other, me included, for the opportunity to go on this expedition. The reason being that in the Tamul tribe, you aren’t allowed a name until you’ve proven yourself.
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Hunting prey is an expectation and a responsibility, so that isn’t good enough proof. Nor are mere physical feats, what bantila can’t climb or leap? The only way to prove oneself is either by killing men in battle, dying honorably on the battlefield, or contributing greatly to the tribe.
Scouting a new tribal roaming ground is as big an accomplishment as one can get, other than battling a messenger of Banta!
I, along with four hands of the strongest within the Tamul tribe set off to scout our new lands. We hunted a little every now and again, but mostly we simply scouted. On one of those scouting missions, a terrible fate befell us. Spears appeared from thin air and pierced us from the side, felling many of our strongest and bravest. The leader of our band called out to the enemies, saying to fight like men and die with honor, but he died promptly after his shout.
I soon was witness to a sadistic slaughter as my comrades and friends were picked off one by one. Though now I wished I’d died with them, if not for learning the Forest language, I would’ve died a terrible and painful death.
That man… Tana‘Il they called him, he is more terrifying than a Bantila, colder than a snake. If any deserves to burn for eternity in the great darkness, it’s him. He offered me a deal, and since the fate of my tribe has already been decided, I have taken it. Perhaps I am a coward, maybe I should’ve died with my lips closed on that snowy battlefield. But death, real death, the kind that isn’t a swift spear to the throat or a thrust to the chest. The type that causes you to soil your pants, I felt that death. I felt that FEAR... I don’t want to feel that way ever again, nor do I want my small clan to either. With this, we will be done with the Tamul tribe…done with Banta.
Tears streaked down my face as I resolved myself, “DISASTER!” I yelled as I swiftly ran towards the guards at the tribal entrance, “DISASTER HAS FALLEN THE TAMUL!!!”
…
The Tamul tribe is run by a council of Elders. Once hunters become too old to perform their duties, the four mightiest and most pious among them are chosen to lead the tribe. One elder acts as head of the hunters, another the head of the gatherers, another head of the resources, and the final being the Grand Elder, the overall decision maker. Usually, the Elders meet once a month, but this is an emergency.
“So, let me get this straight… there is a large tribe, with more hunters than can be counted on the hands of all those gathered here, and they are headed towards our tribal grounds?” The Grand Elder asked somberly.
“y-yes Grand Elder.” Miso replied in a shaky voice.
“How did only you manage to return, when other hunters, braver hunters, STRONGER HUNTERS ALL WENT TO HUNT WITH BANTA!” the Elder of the Hunt screamed, unable to control his emotions.
“You know how!” the Elder of Gathering scoffed, “Look at his hand, who amongst us hasn’t learned of our enemies through such tactics? Clearly, he has sold the tribe to this ‘Tula’ tribe to save his own skin. This man is a filthy muttan!” (muttan is an imaginary word for mutton or sheep. It means that the man is a timid coward, which is a grave insult to any hunter but especially for the worshipers of Banta, and so the people of Tamul)
“You understand what must happen to you next right? You have betrayed our God, our tribe, and your ancestors. You will forever burn in the Great Darkness. You understand that right?” The Elder of Resources asked softly.
“Yes Elder.” Miso responded with a grim gaze.
“At least you had enough honor left within your muttan body to warn us. It will take a while to march so many hunters to our tribal grounds. We will have time to flee, and the tribe will live on. For this final act of service, we shan’t cull your chosen and sparklings. But today… today you will watch Mahr-Kelan from the Great Darkness.” The Grand Elder stated, finalizing Miso’s fate.
…
“GATHER TRIBESMEN, GATHER!” A hunter yelled continuously, quickly gathering a crowd in the central area of the tribal grounds.
“What’s happening? What’s going on? Is there an emergency?” Many voices called out in confusion.
The Grand Elder who’d been standing to the side with the other elders, walked towards a central location to address the tribe as a while.
“THERE IS A MUTTAN AMONG US!” he started.
He was met with a shocked and confused silence, so he continued.
“THIS MUTTAN WENT TO FIND OUR TRIBE’S NEW HOPE, BUT HAS INSTEAD BROUGHT ENEMIES TO OUR YURTS, AND THREATENED THE VERY EXSISTENCE OF OUR TRIBE!”
This was met with an outcry, some of the women and children felt fear, while the men felt deep anger.
“What will we do?!”
“How far are the enemies, will we have time to flee?!”
“Who was it, bring that dirty muttan to face punishment!”
A mix of yells, spanning various emotions bounced across the gathering.
“Silence! Don’t disgrace yourselves in front of Banta and the Ancestors by showing fear in the face of the enemy!” The Elder of the Hunt yelled.
“THE BETRAYER, THE MUTTAN, IS MISO!” He shouted for all to hear.
There was a collective gasp, but there was one voice that screamed, “No! Impossible!”
A frail looking woman, no older than 25, shouted in defense of her chosen. “He would never! My chosen is brave! Strong! And a good man!”
“Brave? Strong? DRAG HIM OUT!” the Elder of the Hunt sneered.
Two hunters dragged Miso out of a nearby tent and tossed him to the ground, fingerless hand still bleeding and badly beaten, the result of the elders and hunters present at the emergency meeting venting their anger.
The woman was shocked, but she still ran towards her chosen,
“What is happening?” she cried as she ran towards him, feeling his face and looking over him frantically.
“Wha- what happened to your hand? Is it true?” She whispered.
“I’m sorry my love. I- I’m truly sorry.” he replied, voice cracking as he began to cry anew.
“Don’t worry, I’ve solved any problems you will face. Everything will be ok, all that is left is for me to take this final step.”
The crowd could no longer stand this scene, they cried for blood.
“HE MUST PAY! STONE HIM!”
“STONE HIM”
“STONE HIM”
“STONE HIM”
“STONE HIM”
“STONE HIM”
The crowd cried, screaming for blood.
A/N: (muttan is an imaginary word for mutton or sheep. It means that the man is a timid coward, which is a grave insult to any hunter but especially for the worshipers of Banta, and so the people of Tamul)