Apolar stared at a little beetle chewing on a sprout. The insect paid no mind to the massive snout of the gigantic white creature. They had a connection, or Apolar wanted to believe they did. Were there something as big as that beetle compared to him, a dragon perhaps, would he also be unafraid? If he knew the dragon wouldn’t hurt him, he wouldn’t be afraid. So, surely, this meant they had a connection. Bear and beetle.
Or, perhaps, the insect was too occupied with his food to care about what some massive, wiggling mass was doing. If only they could understand each other, Apolar would know for certain. He was sure that little bugs had a lot of wisdom to share. Life must be much different for them than any person could imagine.
Despite all the philosophising, Apolar’s mind was caught by a far more straightforward question. “Aren’t they supposed to be black and red?” Apolar asked without taking his eyes off the bug.
Behind Apolar, a taruca was watching for any movement between the trees, taking his time to gather any unusual scents in the air. He was Cravo, Apolar’s current teacher. The herbivore was about the same height as Apolar — except the bear still had much growing to do — and about twice as old. He wore leather padding around his vital areas, and a wood armour over his shoulder and legs. His fur and clothing were scarcely decorated with paint, only a few lines of green paint over his face and armour. Yet, the paint that was on the armour had been carefully placed. The same crescent moon over the sun that Apolar had on his body was drawn in little patterns all over the wood.
On the taruca’s back was a large stick lined with several obsidian blades, ready for battle. Although such weapons were common in Apolar’s home for hunting and fighting, he did not desire to wield something so dangerous. Apolar only had a little obsidian knife. Enough for simple tasks — a tool for everyday life. But what Cravo had was a terrifying weapon. Capable of chopping someone’s head off with a swipe. It was heavy and unwieldy, but in the hands of a master it became horrifying. It would be a sight to behold, were its only purpose more than killing.
While Apolar was engrossed in the bug, Cravo approached from behind. Even as the taruca looked at the tiny, harmless bug, he retained an air of authority, like he was about to order the beetle to find a tall tree to climb twenty times — a common punishment inflicted on Apolar for not paying attention to combat training.
“This one is black and blue, see?” Apolar continued, “but it looks just like the black and red ones that enjoy eating our gardens—” He was interrupted by the taruca flicking one of his hooved hands on the sprout, startling the bug. Apolar could only imagine how upset the poor bug must have been as it flew away; That leaf looked delicious. “Not very nice, Cravo.”
“How many times do I have to tell you to not talk while we travel? We’re in a dangerous part of the jungle, and it’s not appropriate behaviour,” Cravo grumbled with finality, backing a few paces and resuming scouting his surroundings. Apolar was not sure what his teacher was searching for; the trees were too dense, it was impossible to see very far. Besides, he had not caught any unusual smells such as Lost Pupils or dangerous animals. His nose was far more sensitive than his Cravo’s, so if he couldn’t detect anything, he doubted his teacher could.
Apolar settled down, preferring not to respond to his teacher. He searched for the friendly beetle again but had no such luck. Sadness didn’t take him for long; even if his new friend was gone, he’d find all sorts of curious bugs in the grasslands of the continent of Ampasso. All he knew were the jungles around his home in the village of Sadade, so heading to the far east was exciting.
In Cravo’s eyes, the entire purpose of the endeavour was to teach Apolar to fight with masters from Caiaguas, one of Sadade’s sister villages. The bear cared little for fighting, yet this boring training was a small price to pay for the opportunity to travel. He found the journey could be a deeply spiritual experience. It was a shame he would not see Caiaguas itself; the village was in the mountains, but their training camp was in grasslands. He held hope that maybe they’d visit on the way back to Sadade. For now, teacher and pupil were heading for the grasslands beyond the chain of mountains where Caiaguas was located. There, people trained their fighting and survival skills. It was an honour to be taken to such a place — or it should be, if Apolar cared about combat.
Cravo’s signalled Apolar. They were ready to resume walking. Apolar followed a few paces behind, paying attention to how his teacher moved. Weaving through the dense jungle was an important skill, especially when Apolar had a lot of growing to do. He had gotten quite good at it over his ears in the jungle, but he was nowhere near as incredible as Cravo. These were the kinds of skills that he wished Cravo would tutor him in on. Practical matters that did not involve the most effective ways of hurting others.
For a few hours, they walked silently. Apolar had found some distraction by observing the subtle gradient of changes in the jungle with each step they took: the spacing of the trees, the distinctive scents of the animals, the moisture in the soil. The land and living sang together to form a unique tune, and their music faded into a new melody as they grew distant from Sadade. He was so distracted by his observations that he almost bumped into Cravo.
His teacher had stopped abruptly to scout once again and Apolar sat on a fallen log to wait, occupying his mind with more observations about the greenery. At least he had time to cool down from all the walking. But as soon as he began wondering about the distant icy plains from his books, a fhe’arara landed right next to him. It was a striking shade of red and green, with intelligent eyes that stared in waiting. Apolar was confused at first, but soon realised what the bird wanted. He reached into his pouch to toss a few nuts.
The bird happily ate them. “Thank you!” It chirped.
Apolar’s ears perked up. He reached into his pouch again and rolled another nut toward the bird.
“Thank you!” It repeated.
“You are a very polite bird, you know,” Apolar said, scratching its head with the back of his claws. The bird happily leaned into the petting. “What else can you say?”
“Nature bless clear skies!” The arara said almost as if it understood Apolar.
“Nature bless clear skies indeed!” His excitement grew. The mystery grew in size; the arara had been domesticated by someone. Apolar rattled his brain, trying to remember if anyone he knew had spoken of araras. “Who taught you?”
“Stay away from the nuts!” The bird answered as if it had understood.
“Did the person who teach you these words also say that? Aha! It’s a hint! Hmm, who often complains about birds eating their nuts…” Apolar wondered as he resumed scratching the bird’s head. “Definitely not mom or dad. They know better than to leave unattended food when I’m around. Also, they’d probably tell me if they found you! Let’s see, who else? Maro likes birds, but he likes them a little too much. He’d never stop talking about it if he had befriended something as cute as you!”
“Apolar,” Cravo said sternly. He loomed on a branch above the bear, looking down on the noisy pupil. “How many times do I have to repeat the same instructions!? They are not that complicated! Do you think Caiaguas’ masters will be as lenient as me?”
“But… the arara… he must have come from back home. It’s like a sign from Nature! And Nature is telling me to have a chat with this very polite bird.” The bird agreed — although his opinion should be regarded with suspicion since he was being bribed with head scratches.
“She is not wasting time sending a bird to talk to a pupil that doesn’t even listen to his own teachers,” Cravo said. “You must think very highly of yourself to think Nature Herself would pay that much attention to your affairs. You are letting your mother get in your head.”
Apolar frowned. The comment itself was not that bad, but the implication that he thought so little of his goddess was upsetting. “Well, maybe it’s for you. She is telling you to relax with this ‘no talking’ stuff when you could teach me something practical.”
“If you were paying attention to me instead of sitting around and letting your mind hop around the trees like a monkey, you’d learn plenty of useful things.”
“What is a monkey?” Apolar asked, twisting his head to the side.
“Monkeys are… Look, it’s an old expression!” Cravo looked quite annoyed at a question. “And besides, a single bird is not enough proof that hundreds of years of wisdom from the Caiaguas is wrong,” Cravo grumbled. “The first lesson I learned there — the first lesson everyone learns there — is that if you want to hear the world, you must first be silent.”
“Isn’t a bird more proof than any wisdom since it comes directly from Nature?” Apolar asked sincerely, placing a hand on his chin to ponder his own question.
“That’s not — Apolar,” Cravo took a deep breath to calm himself before continuing, “at least try to listen to what I am teaching you. When we get to the Caiaguas’ camp, people are going to behave differently from what you are used to. They are far stricter up there and you must learn from it. If you argue about Nature with everyone you meet, you’ll end up getting in a lot of fights.”
“I’m not arguing, I’m just…” His argument was interrupted by a disappointed look. “Fine, I understand,” he concluded, daring to glance back up at Cravo. Through the stern eyes of his teacher, Apolar could see compassion and love. They were hidden behind annoyance, frustration, and a long day’s journey, but their presence was undeniable.
Apolar considered what he was told. “I am going to try to pay more attention. Although, getting into fights would be effective combat training. I thought you’d appreciate it.”
“Well, yes,” Cravo said with some amusement, “even you would learn the importance of knowing how to hit back, but then your mother would kill me when she caught wind of it.”
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“Mom would never—actually, yes, you are right.”
“Now, I’ve broken my rules to reach you,” Cravo continued. “Will you follow mine to reach me? We can talk once we camp for the day and we know we are safe.”
Apolar nodded confidently. Cravo smiled and resumed their journey.
Before leaving, Apolar went back to the arara and produced a piece of fruit from his pouch. He gave it to the bird and waved it goodbye, still wondering who that bird was imitating. It flew away, disappearing between the canopies.
He was about to turn around when he saw a shimmer between the trees. His mind was still processing the image when Cravo suddenly pounced on him. Student and pupil fell. When Apolar realised what was happening, he noticed an arrow lodged where he had been standing.
“Who is—” Apolar began, but Cravo pushed him to the side and the two scampered over quickly to take cover behind a log. As soon as they settled, they heard a thunk of another arrow lodging itself on the wood behind them.
“I didn’t smell them coming,” Apolar said, worried.
“These Lost aren’t playing around, but they haven’t surrounded us, so we’re not being stalked,” Cravo said. Without flinching, the taruca reached for his antlers and snapped them close to the base. Apolar winced.
“Why didn’t I smell them coming? Lost Pupils usually have such a… distinctive scent,” Apolar asked.
“Camouflaged scent,” Cravo said, peering over the log. Another arrow hit the wood, and Cravo ducked behind the cover again.
“What do we d—”
“Stop asking questions and just listen to me,” Cravo growled. “There are three of them. One alligator with the bow trying to keep us down, a nasua flanking my side, and a tapir on your side, both with blowguns.”
“How do you—”
“Just listen, Apolar! I’m going to bait the next arrow, and as soon as I do, you’re going to run to that tree,” he pointed to a thick trunk a quick sprint away. “Wait for the nasua to blow his dart and defeat him in close quarters.”
Cravo spoke fast and the amount of information overwhelmed Apolar. He tried to keep the plan in his mind as simply as he could: wait for the signal, hide, wait for the blowgun, attack.
“What do we do about the alligator?” Apolar said just as Cravo grabbed one of his broken antlers and lifted it over the log. An arrow hit the antler almost immediately and shattered it. The bait worked.
“Now! Go!” Cravo ordered, running opposite to Apolar. The bear got up and ran to the tree as fast as he could, hopping and dodging shrubs and logs on his way. He heard an arrow whizz through the air and ducked reflexively. He hid behind the tree his teacher had picked out and waited.
Apolar’s heart was racing. He checked his body to make sure no arrow had found him. Cravo was nowhere to be seen. The whole jungle fell into an eerie calm. No arrows, no shouting orders. Just the sound of birds singing and the bugs buzzing about. Apolar found it unnerving to not be able to smell his enemy; to him, it was like being blind or deaf. His ears twitched as he heard a leaf crunch just behind his tree, his attacker was nearby. At this range, the bear picked up a hint of the tapir’s scent in the air. He followed the gradient to his left. There was a little more confidence in him now that he could smell his opponent.
With a swift hop to the side, Apolar came face to face with a tapir, standing at arm’s reach of him. The creature was two-thirds of his size, wearing a wooden mask with rough planks on his arms and legs for protection. It reminded Apolar of Cravo’s armour, except without any of the craftsmanship. There was some paint over their bodies, but it had no familiar shapes or designs. Apolar found it more erratic, like it was done in a hurry. The colours also weren’t as harmonious – the tapir, for example, choose browns and blacks. These were the colours of a poorly prepared Corinte, the same kind of seed used to make paints in his home.
The smaller mammal hesitated upon seeing the large, colourless bear before him, which gave Apolar enough opportunity to slap away his blowgun..
“We don’t have to fight. You weren’t after us, right? Let’s both just walk away,” Apolar said, but there was no reason to believe a Lost Pupil understood his language. Instead, the tapir responded to the peace offer by reaching for a bone knife. Apolar tried to stop him from drawing it, but he was not quick enough.
The tapir stabbed at Apolar’s legs, but the bear dodged. Each slash was another retreat, carefully managing his footwork on the uneven forest ground.
Eventually, Apolar hit his back against a tree, so the tapir pounced presently. With his enemy in the air, the bear quickly snapped a branch off the tree and hit the critter over the head.
The Lost Pupil crashed before Apolar’s paws, his knife flying away. The bear reached down and confiscated his enemy’s blow darts and a second knife he had hidden behind a wooden plate.
“Sorry, but you can’t get these back on account of trying to murder me,” Apolar explained, even though he knew the critter wouldn’t understand most of it — if anything at all.
For a second, Apolar inspected his enemy. In his view — one that was shared between many others in his home — the Lost Pupils were people who had lost their ways. They both came from an old civilization, but their paths diverged at a point in history. While Apolar’s village of Ampasso and the sister villages of Oromargo and Caiaguas became sedentary, the Lost Pupils were nomads. They scoured the forest, searching for food and resources.
Their danger came from unpredictability. Some ignored anyone they found, while others were aggressive and hunted people as trophies. Their ways were strange to Apolar, who was so averse to violence, but he still sympathized with their plight. He wondered if he was born like them, nomadic rather than sedentary, he would also think differently of the world.
The brief moment of respite was over. Apolar grabbed some rope from his pouch to make sure the tapir would not rejoin the fight. He approached, hesitated. There was no sign of life in the Lost Pupil. No breathing, no sounds. As soon as Apolar approached to check if he was still alive, the tapir rolled sideways, punched the bear on the snout and dashed away.
The blow was surprisingly painful for such a small person. Apolar staggered back and fell on his butt. For a moment, the tapir and him exchanged looks, judging whether the fight was about to continue or not. It was a tense moment, undermined by Apolar rubbing his sore snout. In the end, the tapir said something unintelligible and jumped away, disappearing in the bushes
Apolar cursed how slow he had been to react, but there was no time to waste; he had to rendezvous with his teacher. He pointed his nose up and searched the air for Cravo’s presence. There was no blood in the air yet, which was good news. His teacher’s sent was nearby, he hurried after it.
Cravo came into view just as he was grabbing the Lost nasua by the neck. Without pause, he slammed his enemy against a tree. The creature fell limp on the ground, leaving Apolar to wonder if he had just watched his teacher kill someone. Cravo was disarming the nasua when he spotted Apolar. There was visible relief in his eyes.
“The alligator. Follow me, only move between arrows,” Cravo said and Apolar nodded.
The two scouted the area briefly, and Cravo was the one to spot the remaining enemy. Apolar felt quite useless without his snout to guide him. They slowly approached while taking cover between the trees. The alligator had keen eyes like Apolar’s teacher and quickly saw them in return. He shot an arrow, Cravo signalled Apolar, they moved. They repeated the process a few times until they were almost upon the archer.
The reptile was backing away, holding an arrow ready. Cravo pointed at a rock near Apolar, and the bear understood what his teacher meant. He peeked at the growling alligator and threw it the stone as hard as he could.
The alligator flinched to protect himself; enough time for Cravo to bridge the gap and hit the reptile on the snout. It was a quick dash that left Apolar in awe. There was so much confidence in each movement from his teacher — it was all purposeful. He kept his guard up, but without hesitation; he moved forward swiftly, but never in a straight line. The alligator couldn’t even find time to aim toward Cravo, the taruca was always a movement ahead. Apolar felt blessed that so much knowledge and skill were on his side.
Apolar only watched as the two began exchanging blows. He thought the alligator would have an advantage for being nearly twice as tall as Cravo, but the smaller taruca was nimbler. His teacher did not even attempt to draw his weapon. He was dodging slash after slash and following up every opening with a strike of his hooves. The weapon on Cravo’s back stayed in place, he never reached for it. It was some relief for Apolar, who was worried that he would see his teacher cut someone down.
The reptile was slowing down, unable to keep his pace against Cravo’s constant blows. With a growl, the alligator grabbed an arrow from his quiver and tried to jam it on Cravo’s neck, but the smaller taruca deflected the arm, twisted it, and used the momentum to have his enemy stab himself. The alligator roared, opened his hand. The arrow stayed firmly in place, jammed just above his hips.
The archer staggered back and fell, defeated. Apolar did not know whether to be impressed or terrified by Cravo. There was also some sadness in the bear; sadness that it had come to this. If only they understood each other, perhaps they could have talked it out. He made a note to ask Nature for guidance during his nightly prayers.
While Apolar waited there, prodding his feelings and seeking a better understanding of what had happened, Cravo drew his weapon. Apolar quickly placed all of his emotions on hold and jumped out from his hiding place.
“Wait! What are you doing!?” Apolar cried as Cravo prepared to hit the alligator. The reptile breathed heavily, looking down in defeat. He held a hand over his wound, pouring with blood.
“He will not live. This is mercy. I’ll be as quick as I can be,” Cravo explained.
“You can’t just kill someone like that,” Apolar retorted. “If we treat him, he might live.”
“Apolar, he just tried to kill us! Do you think he’d offer us the same courtesy?” Cravo sounded genuinely baffled by the notion behind his authoritative demeanour.
“It doesn’t matter what he’d do to us, we have to help him. It’s the right thing to do,” Apolar declared. “We can’t waste Nature’s precious gifts like that.”
“You want to talk about wasting Nature’s gift?” Cravo sounded furious now. “How about I start with how you are the biggest land predator in the world and instead of learning how to fight, you go around trying to make friends with Lost Pupils? Or how you care more about bugs and birds than your combat training.” Apolar looked wounded, but his teacher continued. “In all my years, I never had a more physically promising yet more useless pupil than you. You waste the gift Nature blessed you with, and you are about to waste everyone’s time in the Caiaguas too!” Apolar looked as if he was holding back from crying by this point.
Cravo was about to turn around and finish his business when a sound made the pair turn around. The tapir lunged toward Apolar, ready to stab him, but Cravo pushed the bear out of the way in time.
When Apolar realised what had happened, his teacher was growling and holding his leg. Just under the leather padding, a sharp chunk of rock was protruding from Cravo’s leg. The tapir Apolar had failed to capture was carrying the unconscious nasua on his back. Once again, they exchanged a meaningful look. Apolar was surprised, but the tapir was furious. Apolar had never seen such fury — when his teacher was angry at him, there was no fury behind his eyes. It was his first time seeing so much anger. It was a scary sight, and one that Apolar could not fully comprehend. He had never felt this way about anyone.
The two critters approached the alligator, who gave them a resigned look and growled something. They seemed to insist on their strangely familiar language, but the alligator shook his head. The tapir then hesitantly walked away, glanced back at the alligator one last time, and then disappeared into the jungle. It was a sad affair, leaving Apolar to, once again, grieve over the terrible outcome. Once this fight had started, they would have no winners.
Cravo toppled back, and Apolar finally came to his senses. He held his teacher and eased him on the ground. He gently lifted the taruca’s leg and placed it over a log. There was a lot of blood. Apolar felt his heart begin to race.
Through his own hesitation, he had allowed the tapir to flee, and now Cravo paid for it.