The King's Tribe

that day I would work with Randall whenever he had time, and I absolutely loved it. He taught me everything a father should, I still lacked natural strength, but I could throw a spear well enough and my speed made up for it. Eventually we began to race, and I began to win, every time earning a comment about how I was my father’s son, causing a blossom of pride to overwhelm me. I learnt to make traps, and to stalk prey, I began fishing and preparing food. As one of Avlym’s medics, my mother disapproved of any violence, while she wouldn’t step between us, she forbade us from play fighting. Sacrificing fighting to continue everything else was more than enough for me, and before long it was my dream to follow in Randall and my father’s footsteps. 

I would be a hunter.

I grew up quickly in those hours with Randall, finally maturing more into the man I wanted to be instead of the child I was. From then on Rhys was more of a nuisance and less of a tormentor, no matter how many bruises or scratches he gave me, there was nothing he could do to waive my conviction in my destiny.

My mind side-tracks to one particular morning.

It was a few months after the berry incident, and I was now used to Randall returning to the village a couple of hours early in the afternoon to retrieve me and teach me about trapping at the forest edge or by the stream. It was always just the two of us, him explaining and me listening intently. At first, I got the sense that he was doing all of this to help me protect myself, but after a while he genuinely began to enjoy it. 

Every now and then I would get slightly injured and my mum, disapproving, would accuse Randall for mistaking me as his fallen brother and remind him that I was still a boy. This only spurred me on further. I barely knew my father, but if he’s anything like the stories Randall told as we fished then that was fine by me.

I keep asking Randall every so often when I can join the other hunters, always he would tell me to wait until I came of age and then I could decide what I wanted to do.

My heartstrings ache slightly as I realise my dream of returning to Avlym and becoming a hunter may likely never happen. I will come of age in just a few months, but that won’t make a difference if I have been branded a traitor.

One day I get sick of waiting. Rising at the edge of dawn, I slip outside past my still sleeping mother. I spot Randall and the other hunters disappearing into the treeline and I move to follow them. 

I track them just like Randall taught me, thankfully they’re also talking ever so softly which I use occasionally to guide me back onto the right track. I doubt I’ll reveal myself to them, I don’t want to make Randall angry, but I’m fascinated to watch them work and I fantasize about stepping into a grand entrance. 

I envision myself outrunning the lot of them to chase down a boar and awaiting their surprise and impressed faces as they finally catch up and see me there with the haul of the day. Returning to the village not to a disapproving mother but a proud one, as she begins to prepare a feast of my making.

I start falling.

In my dream state I’ve stopped paying attention and the ground crumbles beneath me as I tumble into the pit trap. Loose dirt, leaves, and branches falling to bury me. There’s no way the hunters wouldn’t have noticed the noise of such a large prey tumbling into one of their traps from such a short way away. 

Sure enough, I have only just finished clawing my way out of the hole, brushing spiders and ants out of the dust heap that used to be my hair, when Randall and Devin appear above and help me to my feet. 

A disgruntled Devin begins resetting the trap as I await Randall’s fury. It never comes. Instead he resigns to letting me shadow him that day, on the promise that I wouldn’t follow the hunters again. As proud as he was for my enthusiasm, my being in the depths of the forest without his knowledge had scared him to death. In hindsight, I realise he would have never forgiven himself if anything had happened to me. I am almost ashamed of myself, for running into the forest like I had when so many others my age had gone missing. But then again, you can’t resign yourself to fearing the forest when it surrounds you every day.

That evening we stealthily come out of the trees when confident that nobody would spot us. To my relief, Randall was even more anxious than me about my mum finding out, and so it was after a hearty goodbye to the others, consisting of much friendly laughter at my appearance, that we duck behind Bruce’s farmhouse. He sloshes water over me, removing any evidence of my adventures before we sit to watch the sunset as I dry, enjoying the view whilst coming up with a plausible story for what I had spent the day doing should my mum ask.

It is quite possibly the happiest I remember being. Whilst the story satisfied my mum, her suspicion was raised several times when she caught me hours later, still contently smiling as I relived the sunset.

I stop abruptly and not by my own choice, waking me from my recollections as I find myself subconsciously tracing the long white line on my forearm, still here after so many years. Curiously my head and legs are still trying to move forwards, but my torso is disobeying. Edwyn’s bear-like paws have stopped us from continuing any further. Sensing our confusion, he snaps around to us with a sharp look silencing any questions rising.