Embers of Fall

Deer Season

In the weeks following their ceremony, Kotve brought her along to fish and hunt. He taught her the ways of his tribe and measured her own abilities in the process.

At first, she did not want to leave the cave out of sheer stubbornness, but eventually obliged and returned to the land and nature in which she and every person within their tribes were born.

That morning the sky was bleary, but bright and burned her eyes after the days spent lounging within the cave. Fresh air worked its way into her lungs as she breathed in and rushed free of their abode to look for him.

When she caught sight of his figure walking ahead in the distance, she ran to catch up.

Dew dampened the hem of her buckskin dress and the toes of her tan boots as the blades of wet grass tickled the exposed skin above her ankles and folded beneath her every step.

The air was surprisingly sweet and crisp, pulling at her braided hair as she reached him.

Above her, sparrows and songbirds sang merrily across the opaque sky. A few warblers swarmed in and sat upon naked branches, tilting their little heads and chirping to each other.

More leaves began to fall around them, creating a blanket of scarlet, orange, and brown along the dirt path they walked on. She couldn't help but watch in wonder as she trailed behind Kotve and bunched her hands into her long sleeves to keep herself from picking up things that caught her attention. Some of which were discarded feathers and tiny stones that took on peculiar shapes.

He would occasionally glance at her, checking to see that she was still following him, but she would turn her head and cross her arms, ignoring him.

The rest of the walk had been short and silent until they reached a small river that sparkled as if coated by an array of diamonds under the rays of the rising sun. Its waters flowed gently and its surface was as clear as spring rain, reflecting the cloudy sky.

A few leaves found their way in, unable to escape the current, and on the opposite end, various animals had crept along the bank to quench their thirst, but scattered upon sensing their arrival.

Near the waters edge, Navati watched him set down the woven basket and take up his spear, while his bow and quiver laid complacent against his bare back. He worked to set up a makeshift dam made up of a few sticks. They were placed in a line, near enough to the next to only allow smaller fish to swim through, but since the gaps were kept narrow, the larger fish were trapped within the section of the river he planned to use.

He explained this to her as if she were a child, then readied his spear. It stood, sharp and heavy in his hand, but he wielded it with ease and only when his golden and green eyes narrowed did he plunge it through the body of the river.

She observed him with silent admiration, but shifted away when he repeated the move a second time, then waded through the river towards her.

When he was a few feet away, he lifted the spear to reveal a few speckled trout, then motioned for her to bring the basket.

She grasped the basket and held it out to him, to which he lowered the end of the spear and slid the fish free. They flopped in and the raw scent made her wrinkle up her nose.

Even after eating many fish growing up, their smell was still hard to get used to. But they were fresh and ready to be prepared and eaten and she was taught to appreciate everything that nature gave. To deny its gifts was to deny its love and protection. It would be a sign of disrespect and cause sorrow.

Everything around them carried life and energy. Their voices only heard by those who cared to patiently listen. The wind and the water could sing as could the rocks, the earth, the trees. They could see and hear and speak.