[https://i.imgur.com/brlLiRR.jpg]

*The Birth of Big-Eye*

Lolla-Tombona, leader of the First Clans, was a strong man and a respected man. With his help, the First Clans defeated Monster Tlunolo and settled along the River. With his help, River Spirit Hoeyi was befriended, and under his guidance, the First Clans prospered.

He was a great man, but he also was a vain man and a snobbish man – two traits that he hid his whole life. He married Sora-Laze (Pale-Skin), daughter of the Hu people, who was humble and obedient. She gave birth to their first son and that was Big-Eye.

He was born on the second day after the winter solstice. One of his eyes was big and wide open, and the other one was small and not seeing. He was a freak, and Lolla-Tombona was terrified seeing this child. At the time, birthing an ugly infant was considered a disgrace for both parents among the River People. What would others say of him? Him, having achieved so many feats, then bringing a child like this into the world? He would be denounced, ridiculed, worse still – exiled.

He made his wife put the baby into a basket and throw it into the River. Poor Sora-Laze did as told, with tears but obediently, and the basket floated down the River.

The basket reached Clan Wawava. A girl and a boy fished the basket out of the River and opened it. They saw the crying baby with one eye big and wide open and another one closed and not seeing. “Drop it!” cried the boy, scared. They dropped the basket back into the water, and further down the River it swam.

It reached Clan Kizhji*. A fisher named Tlun-Shiklu (Wild-Water)** caught it and got it onto his raft. He and his wife Tushiklu-Yogha (Holding-Water)*** looked inside the basket and saw the screaming baby with one eye big and wide open and another one closed and not seeing. Tlun-Shiklu got scared and wanted to throw the basket off, but his wife stopped him.

“What are you doing, woman?ˮ Tlun-Shiklu exclaimed. “We will be denounced, laughed at!ˮ

“Who dares to laugh at a child?ˮ Tushiklu-Yogha answered and tore the basket from his hands. “What creature in the world would throw out their own kin?ˮ

“He's not our kin! Who knows where he’s from?ˮ

“He will be our kin. We will make him one,ˮ was Tushiklu-Yogha's resolute response.

She took the crying child and calmed him down. The husband railed and swore, but his wife did not respond. He toiled back to the shore still swearing, and his wife sang the child a lullaby. They hit the shore near their settlement.

“Think about it twice!ˮ Tlun-Shiklu shouted, but Tushiklu-Yogha went to the house, the baby still in her hands. The husband groaned, sighed, swore for the final time, grabbed the baskets with the fish, and went inside too.

Thus Big-Eye ended up in the house of Raging Waters.

Footnotes:

* - /kiʒˈdʒi/

** - /ˌtlun-ʃiˈklu/

*** - /tuʃiˌklu-joˈga/

*Big-Eye in the House of Raging Waters*

Everything on the River gets a name, including marriages.

Young Tlun-Shiklu was a hot-tempered man. When he married the small and humble girl from Clan Soddowaji named Ashila-Doagha (Quiet-Stream), everybody in his clan felt sorry for her. How bemused they all were, though, when the wife turned out to be no better than the husband, and how even more bemused they were when they saw how she could hold her savage spouse on a leash. Since then they called her Tushiklu-Yogha–Holding-Water, and their marriage bore the name of Raging Waters.

They lived on the outskirts of the clan's settlement. They had two children: a girl who died of black fever just a moon after her birth, and a boy. The boy was called Tushiklu-tu-Wagha*—Running-from-the-Water was the meaning of his name, and he received it because he constantly rebelled against his parents.

When Big-Eye was brought to the house, little Tushiklu-tu-Wagha rebelled against that too. Once, he put the baby into a basket with fish. The parents searched half the settlement before Mother Tushiklu-Yogha heard a cry from one of the baskets. Another time, he brought the baby to the River and threw it into the water. Big-Eye didn't drown—he floundered his way back to the shore and hid from his brother in the tall grass. Both of these cases resulted in intensive spanking for Tushiklu-tu-Wagha.

The adults of the clan weren't fond of the new member too, but nobody dared to say it out loud. Only Tushiklu-Yogha's sister, Nawa-Tlo-Lii (Morning-Star)**, accepted the child. She was his wet nurse when he was small, and became his best friend when he was older.

* - /tuʃiˌklu-tu-waˈga/

** - /naˌwa-tlo-ˈliː/; 'nawa' means 'early in the morning', and 'tlo-lii' means 'sister of the sun' and refers to Venus.

*A Curse*

Once on a dry winter evening, a group of elders headed by Respected Qaoron, Tutugha-Bimbagha (Bending-Trunks)*, and accompanied by Tlun-Shiklu's older brother, Wara-Hiitali (Black-Spear)**, visited the house of Raging Waters. The child was not accepted in the clan, and that matter had to be settled.

“He is a cripple,” Qaoron said. “An alien child who arrived like no child does. Do you even know where he's come from?”

“He’s come from the River,” Mother Tushiklu-Yogha answered. “He’s the most ‘River’ man of us all!”

The council exchanged glances. Wara-Hiitali, who watched the conversation from a corner, chuckled.

“He misses an eye, and by the look of it, he misses it from birth. He’s targeted by an evil spirit—it may be looking for him. What will you do if this spirit visits our clan?”

“And what do you suggest?” the mother threw an angry look at Qaoron. “Throw the child into the field like a dirty animal? Is that the ‘Good River Way?’”

Qaoron’s face darkened. Other elders whispered between themselves; now that the child was with the clan, throwing it out would not have looked good.

“He’s a cripple,” Qaoron reinstated. “He will die soon!”

“You do not know that!ˮ was the mother’s answer.

“I do know what I say because I’ve seen it before,ˮ Qaoron retorted.

“You haven’t seen this child’s future, so you can’t say! Besides, why do you even call him a cripple? He’s only missing one eye.ˮ

“Missing one thing often implies missing many other things – “

“Well, your beloved brother misses a whole hand, why don't you apply that thinking to him as well?ˮ Tushiklu-Yogha said; Qaoron Tutugha-Bimbagha coughed out a sigh and went silent. Wara-Hiitali smirked.

On went the council. The elders kept pushing; the child would be weak, they said. We will make him strong! the parents responded. The child is a curse, the elders insisted. No! he is the asset! The parents said.

“In what way is he an asset? He is not even Kizhji!” one elder shouted.

“Nobody is Kizhji at this age,” Wara-Hiitali inserted from his corner. “We all became Kizhji after initiation, didn’t we?”

“That is right,” Father Tlun-Shiklu said, glancing at his wife. “We will foster him, and he will be initiated as a Kizhji!”

“A good Kizhji?” Qaoron asked.

“We will make a very good Kizhji,” the father said.

So it was decided that the parents were to raise the child and do it well. Should they fail, it was decided, they would all get into a basket and swim down the River, just like the child did.

* - /tutuˌga-bimbaˈga/; qaoron /kaoˈron/ - an authoritative figure in a tribe. (See Ch.5)

** - /waˌra-hiːtaˈli/

*Fishy*

Big-Eye grew up fast. In his fifth year, he was already pretty big and strong like a young boar. Brother Tushiklu-tu-Wagha had softened in his attitude by that time. The two brothers often played with each other, running around, laughing and wailing, jumping and hiding, spooking other kids from the brush.

Once, they ran to the women’s side where girls wove mats. Big-Eye squatted over a reed carpet on which sheaves of mint lay drying. He sniffed in the exciting smell.

“Hey, go away, fishy!” a woman cried and pushed him away.

“Go away, Fishy, go away!” other girls picked up and shooed him off.

In the evening, Aunt Nawa-Tlo-Lii visited the house of Raging Waters. She gave little Big-Eye a sheaf of mint. Big-Eye put his face in the smelling grass and breathed in as deeply as he could. “Oh,” he exclaimed when his head got dizzy and he fell over to the laugh of women.

“Why do they call me ‘Fishy’?” Big-Eye asked his aunt.

“Because they envy your big beautiful eye, but want to hide it,” the aunt said, tapping him on the nose.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Big-Eye did not know what that meant.

“Will they stop calling me that if I give them my eye?” he asked.

“No, they won’t, and you shouldn’t,” the aunt said. “Never give those that call you bad names what they want!”

Members of the clan kept away from Big-Eye, and their kids followed their parents’ example. Soon, his brother followed the kids in his attitude again. No more games were played together, no more fun times were had. Now Brother Tushiklu-tu-Wagha was with the rest of the kids, mocking him and pointing at his looks: his hair curled in the wrong way, his nose was wrong and different from his brother’s, his ears were too big, his big eye was light brown. “Look, ours are almost black!ˮ Besides, he was ‘fishy’.

“Fishy! Fishy! Fishy!” the kids chanted from a hilltop while Big-Eye sat near his parents’ reed house.

“How about I get me some fish now, eh?!” Father Tlun-Shiklu, screaming, charged up the hill with a stick held high. The kids scattered, disappearing in the bush, their laughter resounding in the distance.

“Why do they call me ‘fishy’?” Big-Eye asked his father. The father rubbed his balding head, knowing the answer, but thinking of a substitute.

“They... envy us,” he said. “Yeah. Because we have a lot of... fish! Yeah. Right. Come on, help me with those baskets.”

*The Mark*

The parents took Big-Eye up the River, to the place on the northern shore where a shaman lived. The shaman's name was Ira-Wyghu (Clear-Sight)*, for his eyes were clouded from his birth, yet his sight was clear as day and sharp as that of the healthy hunters.

They brought their child and asked about curses.

“I do not see any immediate evil,ˮ Ira-Wyghu said, touching the child. “But I see a sign.ˮ He put his hand on the boy’s undeveloped eye, who disliked the shaman and fought his touch. “He was crippled on purpose. A spirit marked him.”

“What kind of spirit?” Father Tlun-Shiklu asked.

“How am I to know?” the shaman said.

“But is it an evil one?”

“Could be.”

“How do we protect him?” Mother Tushiklu-Yogha asked.

“Same as every parent protects their child—make sure that he’s prepared.”

“But how do we protect him until he is prepared?”

The shaman looked at the parents with his white eyes.

“What amulets do you have relating to your marriage?”

Each of them had a half of a clay medallion. They gave those halves to the shaman who crushed them into powder. He then mixed the powder with new clay and molded a new medallion, drew a fish on it, made a hole in the upper part, and fired it. He then hung the medallion on Big-Eye’s little neck.

“Until his adulthood, he’s protected by the Raging Waters,” he said, letting the boy run off.

“And after that?” Father Tlun-Shiklu asked.

With his white eyes, the shaman watched the reddish sun in the west.

“Make sure he’s prepared,” he said without turning.

* - /iˈra-wuˈgu/

*Uncle’s Teachings*

Tlun-Shiklu’s brother Wara-Hiitali was a prominent hunter who trained many of the clan’s children. He had been watching Big-Eye for a long time, and when Father Tlun-Shiklu asked him to train the boy, he agreed readily.

“You know, my training won’t be easy on him, though,ˮ Wara-Hiitali said while applying charcoal grease to the shaft of his spear. “You know why—he’s a special kid.ˮ

Tlun-Shiklu, hearing that, let out a deep, sad sigh.

“Yeah. Everybody tells me that. If anybody could tell me what that means!”

Uncle Wara-Hiitali became Big-Eye’s teacher.

He took him to the southern shore. There they tracked down a small young antelope and sneaked up on it.

“Every game,ˮ Wara-Hiitali whispered, “needs its own approach. Small and nimble need a snare. Big and strong need an ambush and a thick spear. Medium and quick need a quiet sneak-up and a good shot.”

They were close to the animal and Wara-Hiitali was preparing his arrow; Big-Eye was fighting with a spikelet under his nose.

“Everything must be done just right,” Wara-Hiitali went on. “Get too close, and the prey gets scared off. Too far—you miss. Too hasty a movement and you’re exposed. Too slow—and you’re a loser.”

Wara-Hiitali pulled the bowstring; Big-Eye sneezed—the antelope dashed away, out of the hunters’ sight. Wara-Hiitali loosened his bow and said with a chuckle,

“Our life is hunt, and hunt is patience. You’ve got a long way, kid. And it looks like you’ll start it hungry.ˮ

For many days, Uncle Wara-Hiitali taught his nephew, and for the nephew those days were torture. For days they ran across the shores, Big-Eye ahead and Wara-Hiitali following behind with a stick. If Big-Eye slowed down, he received a bump to his butt,

“Forward, not backward! Breath in, step, step, breathe out, step, step, breathe in...”

If he reached for his flask, he got a bump into his hand.

“On the next stop! Forward!”

If at the stop he drank too much, he received a bump to his chin.

“This is your day’s ration. Save it rationally!”

Wara-Hiitali taught Big-Eye to run deftly and quietly under the cover of the tall grass. Whenever his uncle saw or heard him, he threw a small rock.

“There you are!” and a rock flew into Big-Eye’s nape.

“There you are!” and another one into his back.

“There you still are!” another rock to his butt.

“Why are you still there? Move!” yet another rock.

“I can hear you damn it!” and a rock again.

One day Wara-Hiitali walked in the field, gawking around, with a staff and a handful of rocks. He couldn’t see or hear anything except for the quiet rustle of the grass. He dropped the rocks, and happily announced,

“All right, kid, you did it. Come out.”

But there was no answer—only the grass rustled in the summer breeze.

“All right, kid, you win!”

And still no answer. Uncle Wara-Hiitali went forward, swaying his stuff across the grass. Suddenly, something bent his knees. He fell down with a cry, and a rock hit him in the crown.

“I can hear you!” the boy’s voice sounded from the grass.

“You little...” Wara-Hiitali rose, furious, but there was nothing around but the rustling grass. He laughed loudly and stepped forward, and when his nephew got close to him again, swirled around. Big-Eye stopped dead in his tracks, uncle’s staff poking his forehead.

“There you are, winner!”

“Urgh.” The disappointed ‘winner’ straigthened up.

“Don’t use the same trick twice. Especially on people,” the uncle said and went on, satisfied.

Wara-Hiitali taught Big-Eye to throw a spear. He taught him the stance, and he taught him the throw. Little Big-Eye was throwing for twenty days but could not hit the reed target.

“Again!” Uncle Wara-Hiitali cried, and the boy threw a miss.

“Again!” and the boy threw another miss.

“Again!”

“Uncle,” the boy said, stooping and panting, “My hand hurts. Can we rest? Just a little...”

“Phuh!” the uncle muttered. He took a stick and launched it into the target’s improvised head. “A hurting hand does not save you from a foe and grant you rest. A good hit does! Again!”

And Big-Eye, peeved, caught his breath, gathered strength, and threw again, hitting the accursed target. He received the deserved rest.

Wara-Hiitali taught him to shoot a bow. He taught him the stance, he taught him the draw. Like before, for dozens of days, they practiced with a target.

“Uncle!” Big-Eye pleaded, “My fingers burn, my back is in pain. Please, let me rest.”

“Oh, you lazy little cat!” the uncle took the bow and an arrow, and shoot it into a thick crown of a nearby tree. A bird fell down with a thump. “You don’t get a meal with an aching back, you get it with a sharp shot!”

Big-Eye, angry, pressed his teeth, squeezed his fingers, and shot again. He hit the target and got his deserved meal.

*Harsh Teachings*

Once, Father Tlun-Shiklu came to Wara-Hiitali and asked him,

“I have a feeling, dear brother, that you’re being too harsh on our boy.ˮ

Wara-Hiitali was calmly whittling a stick and didn’t answer straight away.

“I have a feeling, beloved brother,ˮ Tlun-Shiklu went on, “that your teaching is way too harsh on him, too much so.ˮ

“No, brother,ˮ Wara-Hiitali said, “it is just as needed. He is a special child and he has to be taught properly.ˮ

“And where’s the limit for that ‘properly’ of yours? He comes home moaning and lies ill for days! You know, my wife wants to bathe you in the northern sands for your teachings sometimes.ˮ

“Well, I’m sure that my beloved brother won’t let it happen,ˮ Wara-Hiitali said with a slight smile. “Look,” he went on, “no man would need such training to excel in our hunting affairs, that’s true. But this boy that you fished out of the River is bigger than just a hunter. Remember what the shaman said? There is a mark on him. We don’t know what foes he’ll have to fight on his way, and that is why he should be prepared well.”

Tlun-Shiklu let out a deep sigh.

“Sometimes I wish to have fished out something more...”

“Fishy?” Wara-Hiitali finished with a smirk.

“Don’t insult* my son,” Father Tlun-Shiklu said and left his brother’s house.

* - wordplay based on the fact that in their tongue 'insult' and 'hurt' are expressed with one word.

*Lesson of Lessons*

Father Tlun-Shiklu had a cousin, Si-Kishoo ([Born]-Under-Wind). She had been married to a man from Clan Wawava. One dry sunny day, however, she unexpectedly returned to her clan, and with her came her son—Hala-Totala-Shkuu*. That name meant Featherless-Bird, and he received it because he was hairless from birth and very agile, like a bird. He was in his seventeenth year—three years older than Big-Eye, and was already supposed to be initiated, but had failed the rite.

The grown-ups gathered in the center of the settlement to discuss the occasion. Son Hala-Totala-Shkuu went to a beach, where local teens were playing Skittles. He asked to join, but the boys refused rudely. Big-Eye was nearby, whittling a stick with a knife

“We don’t need freaks around here,” Tushiklu-tu-Wagha said, pointing at his bald head.

“You’re acting unbecomingly to River People, brother. Be more respectful to the guest,” Big-Eye said, but his brother snapped,

“You stay silent there, freak! One freak comes intruding, another freak comes teaching.”

That made Big-Eye angry. He took the stick and went to his brother. “What?” his brother asked, backing away. Big-Eye grabbed him by his hair and hit him with the stick. Other teens met the spectacle with joy. Tushiklu-tu-Wagha tried to fight, to escape, but Big-Eye was trained well by Wara-Hiitali—he held his brother tight, and he smacked him in all the tender places. He had given him eighteen hits by the time Wara-Hiitali parted them by force.

Tushiklu-tu-Wagha ran away in tears. Wara-Hiitali dragged Big-Eye away from others’ eyes. There, the uncle took the stick and forced the nephew on his stomach.

“How many times did he insult you?” the uncle asked.

“Four!”

“Four hits for four insults he deserved. How many times did you hit him?”

“Eighteen.”

“From four to eighteen, how many steps do you take?”

Big-Eye counted on his fingers. “Fourteen?”

And the uncle hit his nephew’s butt fourteen times. When he was over, Big-Eye, wailing and sniveling, sat half-turned on the ground. Wara-Hiitali threw the stick away and sat beside him, breathing deeply.

“Everything must be just right,” he said. “Too close, and you are spotted. Too far, and you miss. Too much evil for evil in return, and you become evil yourself!”

Big-Eye didn’t seem to listen. He ran off, hurt and offended, and wasn’t seen around the settlement that day.

Late in the evening, Hala-Totala-Shkuu found him sitting on a branch of a tree. He carefully approached him and started,

“I have to thank you. But I... I could have dealt with them alone, actually. I’m in my seventeenth year, actually. I’m actually –”

“It was actually not about you,” Big-Eye said. For some time they remained silent, watching the remnants of the Light redden the horizon, listening to the rhythm of the dance back in the settlement. Big-Eye broke the quiet first.

“So are you staying?”

“Sure. We actually came here to stay.”

“What did people say?”

“Oh, they said so much I actually don’t remember anything,” Hala-Totala-Shkuu said with a silly smile, and Big-Eye answered with a smile as well.

“What is your name again?” Big-Eye asked the boy.

“Hala-Totala-Shkuu—Featherless-Bird, I received it because I am hairless from birth. And you are Big-Eye!”

“How did you know?”

“By your big eye!” said the boy, and they both laughed.

Thus Hala-Totala-Shkuu became Big-Eye’s first friend.

* - /hala-ˌtotala-ˈʃkuː/