REMEMBER.
REMEMBER.
I am haunted by that word. It echoes in the depths of my mind like a distant thunderclap. Each time it strikes, I try to grasp its meaning, but it slips away like water through my fingers.
Light hits my eyes. Cold sweat drenches my skin. as I came into consciousness I know I have forgotten something, Again. Another dream, another failed attempt to remember something—something important. It clings to me, always just beyond my reach, gnawing at the back of my mind. Every morning, I wake like this, trembling, searching for something I cannot name.
What is it that I’ve lost? Why does it matter so much?
Ever since I was a child, I’ve felt it—that pull. As if I was meant to remember something forgotten. its always close as if its on the tip of my Tongue,. But the memory never comes. It hides in the shadows, taunting me.
Maybe that's why I keep diving back into my mind re-living the past, who knows?, maybe something will help me figure out what I am looking for.
I was born on a cold, bitter winter night to a woman of the Bronlo tribe. My mother, Ranla, was a gatherer, leatherworker, and cook. She told me how the tribe was formed—how Bronlo, our namesake, was banished from his original tribe, cast out with a group of other exiles. Weak, forgotten people. The unwanted.
The tribe members where like bronlo banished for different reasons, the most common was not enough food for everyone so the weak and less connected get kicked out first, 'one less mouth to feed'. And getting banished was good thing, better then the alternative, some tribes can shift to cannibalism in bad times.
but out here there is no place for the lonely, They had no choice but to band together to survive.
But survival has a cost.
“There’s no place for the weak,” my mother used to say. “We’re only safe as long as we’re useful.”
My mother Warned me that we are considered the weak and less connected in our tribe, that's why we must work and fix our position, we cant survive alone.
She was right, fear of loneliness and the need for a sense of belonging and shared identity built this tribe, but there are limits to tribal unity when starvation hits.
Her words haunt me as much as my dreams. We’re the weak ones here. The expendable ones. And if the tribe ever decides we’ve outlived our usefulness... Well, exile is the kindest fate compared to what might come next.
Our tribe isn’t stationary. We travel from cave to cave, scraping out a living from the land, always on the move. Always running. From hunger, from predators, from the dark things that lurk just beyond the firelight.
The cave we call home now is different from the others—larger, deeper.
Safe, for now. It’s surrounded by open fields, where nothing can hide. The sun rises directly into the cave entrance, illuminating everything. During the day, the light is our shield. But at night...
At night, things change.
that's why the entrance was walled-off with stone wall built with large stones, and Barricade with wooden braces on the wall and cave door, that was to keep the cave safe from what lurks in the dark. The place was good and safe, a big deep cave for small tribe of 32 that relied on cooperation for survival.
People cant survive on there own, Hunting, gathering food, and defending themselves from predators were all easier with a group. Living together allowed us to share in the fruit's of knowledge, skills, and resources.
knowledge and skills where passed from father to son and mother to daughter. and family resources, tools inherited, yet every family had something to contribute to the whole. As families grew and generations lived together, they would form larger groups with extended family members.
but our tribe is a young tribe. a semi-nomadic tribe, moving around to find food and resources in the Forest and plains. avoiding predators, and monsters. Then run back as fast as possible to hid in caves before the night.
The semi-nomadic life style of jumping from cave to cave as we travel ended when Bronlo noticed that the old cave was too small for the growing tribe and found this cave.
its perfectly in the center of a large area covered chiefly with trees and undergrowth. Yet mostly open filed, open was good, open meant that the noting is hiding behind that hill or tree, open was safer to move in. And the sun rises directly into the cave entrance, its a perfect home.
until my father Harlo died, he was a hunter and a spear maker. Harlo named me ⴰⵏⵉⵔ Anir, later I learned that the people have a common name used on an everyday basis, and secret name used in private rituals to never be shared except with the spirits. And they could have a variety of nicknames.
All I know is my name is Anir a term in my fathers old tribe it meant the light spirit or angel, am not sure he died before I was wise enough to ask for clarification.
And I don't know what my secret name is, it died with my father.
Maybe that is for the best, a secret cant be exposed if no one is alive to share it.
as for his death, he died on hunt after a saber-tooth tigers noticed him before he noticed it. I was five years old at the time. before he had taught me more than the rudiments of the hunt-hand-speech or spear making or actual hunting.
my mother Ranla, found herself without a husband and with a five year-old to feed, just as winter started, And with the low hunting the food was low and in times of hunger only the hunters can eat enough, the rest of use get the scraps from the communal pot. so she wiped her tears and search for new mate.
I don't remember him clearly, he was a hunter-gatherer, his first proposal to her was a fish, but our new source of food didn't last, after one year he developed pains in stomach, it happened five nights after he started betting her, He was simple cruel man if he had an empty belly then he will be violent, he hit me only once then he died the next day in slow agonizing end. Poison? Disease? I never asked.
Now am nine winters old, In my small fur bed. I stopped thinking about the past, and stood up noticing a light beam that entered the cave and woke me up.
Our little corner inside the cave was triangle in shape.
two wooden poles, connected to the cave wall and then to a support wooden pole to form a triangle, the two poles where used as walls that was achieved by the tree vines that where Hanging on the wood, and covered with mud for privacy, finally more tree vines as door.
image [https://preview.redd.it/anirs-little-home-inside-the-cave-v0-pafmarlpszwd1.png?width=964&format=png&auto=webp&s=a1c6a735949b7a8b7e49685aeb5a712419b39e02]
it was the best privacy we could get inside a cave, and it was our little home.
My mothers voice interrupted my thoughts “Anir stop lazying, and go get us some water, I need to start working and the water pot is empathy”
“Yes mom, I will be back.” Picking up the water pot I started walking out.
“Be careful not to brake the pot, and Wash your face, the cold water will wake you up,,, Lazy boy.”
As I excited I looked at the sky, The day was cold with gray sky, winter is closer.
I walked to the river passing some hunters and women with kids, they where clearing the path to the small shallow river, to make it safer, no shadows or hiding spots.
That made my trip safer, as I walked again I tried to remember the stupid dream that keeps running from me.
I’m different. I’ve known it since I was six years old. That was when the visions began—flashes of places I’ve never seen, of knowledge I’ve never learned. They come to me in my dreams, during the day, even when I’m awake.
They where random and short.
After every vision I learned something knew like how to push my aura out and take in mana, or how to move my mana in my body and aura, how to take the ambient mana in to use for warmth. I did it without even knowing, I was so young. At first, I thought it was normal. I thought everyone could feel the pull of their aura, could sense mana in the air. just like walking we all did it.
But it wasn’t long before I realized I was alone in this. I could push mana through my body for warmth in the freezing winters. I could use it to defend myself from the older children who tried to bully me.
Slowly the vision became longer and stranger, I started collecting hematite stones, and other stuff that looked important yet i don't know why I want them. I had dreams, and knowledge of things I have never done.
And then there was Grandpa—the strange old man who visited me in my dreams. 'grandpa is strange name!,' I traveled with him in the forests that where unfamiliar to me, He showed me how to survive, how to wield my aura like a shield, how to shape tools, knives, weapons. He took me into the forests, where we stayed out even during the dark hours, and we didn't die!.
The visions also had ideas in them, flashes of comprehension, ideas about better spears, better flint knife, where to hid one, and how to use it if I was attacked, a better way to shape my aura to protect me from the knife or cold as if it was thick Fur.
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That was good thing to learn because In winter all we had where our thick Furs, and we couldn't start a fire in the cave, it would kill us, the fire is small and outside the cave to keep the monsters away.
We had smoke problems when setting the fire inside so mostly it was done only when we had to.
Heating rock was good idea at first then it wasn't when it's your job to heat them outside and bring them into the cave, that can be done only before the cave is sealed, and using hot rocks was dangerous, that's why I found the aura trick important.
Aura warmth, That one saved my life in the past winter, I still remember one of the baby's tribe not surviving the winter, it was sad night for the tribe.
The next and best trick I learned was how to push anyone trying to bully me down in an arm lock, that made my playtime with the other older kids really fun. It didn't get me any new friends, but it stopped them from bullying me.
Then the clothing ideas on how to shape the fur, and skins for better protection from the cold, that idea made my mothers leather work liked among our little tribe, the leather jackets where a real life-saving gift, and when we traded with other tribes, she even managed to get to show others how to do what she did for a payment of food, pots, and more leather.
It helped us at difficult times.
The years passed, and I noticed am different from others I was smarter or wiser maybe both, and maybe a bit more evil!?.
No, am not evil, The word I am looking for is selfish, yes that's the word, selfish.
My instincts tell me that I am not meant to live like this—weak, powerless, relying on others for survival.
One night after I told my mother about my ideas and how i see better ways to do things, she was both happy and worried. My mother warned me about standing out too much, but I couldn’t help it. I saw the way things could be improved—the better ways to shape leather, to craft tools, to harness mana. It felt like second nature.
In a loving voice she would whisper, "It's as if wisdom was whispered to you, Anir your blessed." Her voice changed into a warning tone, "just remember not to let your fire outshine others, jealousy is as dangerous as the saber-tooth".
At the age of ten and half, I somehow understood what she was saying to me. I noticed how the kids didn't like it when I showed them my small skin backpack, A bag carried by a strap on my shoulder, I noticed how they wanted it, but a memory of my arm lock technique mixed with my monkey-fist a stone weighted to short leather rope, previous demonstrations of how I can bring the pain stopped them from taking anything from me.
My backpack was my backpack, They always looked at it, until the day there mother’s traded with my mom to make them backpacks for there husbands, and the kids.
Then I slowly found my self more and more lonely when it’s play time.
People noticed it, they subconsciously feel am not part of the group, its in how I walk, talk, how I set and eat, I noticed the looks they gave me.
Even in the words I used, I understood Am not a part of the pack, yes that's it am Just alone Wolfe.
They avoided me more and more, especially after I started using my aura in ways they couldn’t understand. They resented my intelligence, my strange skills. Even my mother, though proud, often looked at me with a mix of awe and fear.
I learned to keep my talents hidden. The few friends I had were gone, and I found myself increasingly alone.
Except for Monire—another outcast. But even his company was conditional, something fleeting. I had become the lone wolf, surviving in isolation. I knew I needed to change that. The lone wolf dies in the night.
I needed to belong again. I needed to fix what I’d broken. But how?
Soon I will be fourteen, my adulthood test will start, I need to be ready.
I contemplated that idea as I heard the water flow and looked at the shallow water, it was safe, close, and nothing will jump at me, yet still I looked very carefully around me.
That's when I noticed the area we were warned not to approach it, the area had insects that can kill, and an Idea slowly formed in the back of my mind.
I filled my pot, and walked back home.
Back home I found my mother outside the cave in here work spot, with the leather, I gave the water pot to my mother then went into the cave, I picked up my flint knife, and the leather I need to work on outside where there is sunlight.
I did my normal leather work, cutting strips to make strings and rope, we use it with boon needle to make good clothing like the winter jackets.
I cut, and cut, then took some brakes for water and food then worked more leather.
The work was difficult the stone knife lost its edge fast, I need better knife.
I stopped frozen in my place, I almost remembered something about a shiny knife!.
“Anir stop dreaming and work you lazy fool.” My mom’s voice brought me back to reality.
“Sorry” I went back to work, as I did I continued to think about my plan to fix my lonely wolf problem.
My mother and I worked all day, she cut skin and made it into good pieces to be connected later to make jackets and backpack or pants and boots, blankets, beds.
This year our work will be good sent to other tribes to exchange for other things, like good flint knifes, spears, pots and those hemp ropes, the moment I saw them I told my mother how we can use them for better leather work, and other things like nets.
My mother and I kept the ideas and plans for our selves until we will be ready to show the work, our tribe will feed us for getting them the extra tools, it will make our position stronger in the tribe.
When today's work was finished, we collected our things, and placed them inside our home in the cave.
Before it went dark I went to the river for more water, the night is long and having water close is good even if am not thirsty.
As I walked to the river to fetch water, my mind was preoccupied with the same thoughts. The dream—the one I can never fully remember—nagged at me again. It’s always there, always lingering. What am I missing?.
As I dipped my pot into the water, something reflected sunlight at me,
A glint caught my eye, just beneath the surface. I knelt down, pushing aside a stone, and there it was—a small, yellow rock, an Aura stone, a gold nugget the size of my thumb.
Gold?, That’s new word huh am superb at naming things, but the hunters call it aura rock or stone. They said it could enhance their aura abilities, yet I never learned how and am no hunter only hunters are allowed to show there sons how to use it.
I played with the heavy gold thing moving it in my hand, it felt so close to my aura, for some reason the worthless yellow thing looked/felt... important. More than that—it felt like it was meat, "maybe I should make crown. Huh!!, what's a crown? Why does it feel so familiar?", strange words are in my head again. ‘Yes there is something I need to,,, I must,,, shit I lost it’. The idea in my head Its like squirrel impossible to catch.
I shifted my attention back to the gold, The hunters would trade for it, I knew, but something deep inside me told me to keep it. To take it home, to bed, and sleep with it near my head, my skin.
‘It's my precious’.
The cold wind hitting my face and wet hand broke my concentration, and I remembered why am here.
I slipped it into my fur clothing, hiding it from sight. And with heist I went back to the cave, this time I went fast because I don't want to be out at night or even at sunset and because the food was ready.
The food pots where cooked outside, and as the smell hit me, my stomach woke-up and told me to feed it.
As I entered the cave and placed the water pot near my mother, she picked up our diner pots and went to get us food, I waited and turned back to watch the tribe settle down for the night.
Our tribe routines was different day to day, but not as mush as it seems, there is always pattern in how people moved, talked, or did things.
Some things repeat daily others take days or months, yet they repeat.
It all starts with Some of the men going around the area to search the perimeter for any danger, others stay and protect the women and children as they collect vegetables plants, and they keep an eye on any small animal that can be caught, then all the hunters go hunt after they make sure there are no strangers nearby, and for extra safety the children and women hid back in the cave or stay near it when there are few men watching.
Sometimes most of the men go to hunt and the tribe hides or some stay watch-over the gatherers and other's go hunt. It's actually a mess that has order to it, is there an injured man or are the men fighting and have no social cohesion to go together, that's when they argue more about who stays who leaves.
But there is one constant in all of this.
I noticed that one of the bronlo family members is always with the hunters, talking or listening, the men in large group are never alone together without a bronlo present for leadership. Why is that?, the men don't look stupid to me to need guiding hand all day.
I dropped that thought and watched shaman woman tahya work, she's bronlo’s wife she's our shaman and medicine woman, I watched her use some of Yesterday’s ash in ritual, it was mixed with mud and used as paint to cover the cave outer wall and around the entrance, and on the wooden door.
As the sun went down more getting closer to darkness, she always works on the door and wall.
I sometimes like to watch her work when no one is looking at me, that woman had body that made men drool.
Here eyes moved my-way, and I looked off beyond her making it look as if I am looking at the sleeping men in the cave.
Those men were the night watchers, and as I predicted when the shadows from the sunlight hitting door was just low enough in position I marked inside the cave.
The night watchers woke up from the nap they always take before the long night, am not sure if it's the smell of food or the noise the tribe makes when its food time that woke them.
My mother came to me with the food, and she went to eat and talk with the other women, and I looked around watching.
My focus tonight was the watchers, after they finished their food.
I listened to them talk about the next sleeping schedule and whom will be on it, they talked and worked, they were placing the fire wood that was collected by the other tribe members today and pilled outside the cave and preparing the Incense to be burned in the fire.
We called it the dark spirits banishment ritual, and I have seen it every-night as far as I can remember, I watched every detail, someday I will be the man to do it.
Maybe it will banish the spirits haunting me when I see fire, I don't like fire When I look into the flames, I see visions of people, of an empire burning, but the visions are hazy. What's an empire?.
I ignored the question and looked at the watchers.
There job was simple yet important, only the truly trusted are given the job, it's too important to let children do it. Or for one man alone to do it, that's why five did it with the shaman in training as the sixth man watching, more like listening, there is nothing to be seen or could be seen outside, the cave will be fully sealed leaving only small air holes, and its dark outside, we can only see the small dim light from Incense-fire outside that can be seen through the watch holes, and the rush-light inside the cave the night watchers used, its dim light but good enough for anyone to find the pissing hole.
The rush-light was kept burning all night to easily light a more rush-light during the night and start a new fire in the morning.
The cave door was being sealed—the heavy wooden logs pushed into place, it wasn't even an actual door, just wooden logs on-top of each-other and braced with more wood, it's not stone, but It Prevents what's in the dark from entering.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the cave transformed. The small fire inside burned low, once bright and warm, was reduced to glowing embers, casting long, flickering shadows on the walls. The shaman, her face streaked with ash, whispered ancient words, smearing mud across the inside of the entrance to keep the dark things at bay. I watched the others—the way they huddled together, eyes darting toward the cave’s mouth, afraid to speak too loudly, afraid to look out into the night.
I don’t like the night
Unusual events begin to happen in the night, around cave dwelling and its surrounding area.
Animals become restless, and strange noises are heard at night, I think I once heard laughter—a twisted, thirsty sound that sent chills down my spine., whatever made it, it sounded thirsty.
In the morning when we walk too far from the cave we find claw marks on the trees and some rocks, what could make marks on rocks?.
When it was my time to sleep, as I lay in my fur bed, I clenched the golden nugget in my hand. Its warmth pulsed in my palm. I tightened my grip keeping it safe, and closed my eyes, clutching the nugget tighter.
~REMEMBER~
The word echoed in my mind, louder this time, more urgent. But as always, the answer slipped away, leaving me grasping at shadows.
~REMEMBER~
And then, for the first time, I dreamed not of Grandpa, but of something else. A throne. A kingdom in flames. Whatever it was, I knew it belonged to me.
~REMEMBER~