The Eagle Feather: Life is Hard, but Beautiful (The Eagle Feather Saga Book 1) Read online

  THE EAGLE FEATHER

  LIFE IS HARD, BUT BEAUTIFUL

  A. K. VYAS

  For Emilian and Louisa

  Table of Contents

  Preface

  Chapter One - The Song

  Chapter Two - Wolf Cub

  Chapter Three - The White Bison

  Chapter Four - Jungle Lore

  Chapter Five - The Running Boy

  Chapter Six - The Autumn Feast

  Chapter Seven - Bears and Men

  Chapter Eight - The Deer Hunter

  Chapter Nine - Courage

  Chapter Ten - Ghost

  Chapter Eleven - The Frog Spirit

  Chapter Twelve - The Sabretooth

  Chapter Thirteen - Lions, Tigers, and Bears

  Chapter Fourteen - The Mistake

  Chapter Fifteen - Good

  Chapter Sixteen - Mountain Woman

  Chapter Seventeen - Snow

  Chapter Eighteen - Mammoth

  Chapter Nineteen - Edelweiss

  Chapter Twenty - Star Talk

  Chapter Twenty-one - The Purple Fruit

  Chapter Twenty-two - The Gift

  Chapter Twenty-three - The Eagle Feather

  Food for Thought

  Winter’s Wind Preview

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  “I was not the lion, but it fell to me to give the lion's roar.”

  -Sir Winston Churchill

  Preface

  Human nature is eternal. This is why we can relate to people we`ve never met across oceans of time, with different temperaments, talents, and convictions. Life expectancy in the Stone Age was only thirty-five short years. Yet they lived, loved, and imagined, just as we do now. Millenia from now, the trappings of life in the early 21st century may similarly be considered Hobbesian. Our future descendants will still need grit, dark humor, and the entrepreneurial spirit.

  As a father, only now have I begun to comprehend the depth of love and responsibility that comes with the blessings of parenthood. Children are the future, and limitless in their potential. Civilization progresses in leaps and bounds. Somewhere, somehow there are little boys and girls out there who will use their imagination, courage, and entrepreneurial spirit to better the human condition.

  My father, a retired US Army officer from the Vietnam War era, missed meeting his grandson by slightly over a year. He always taught me through stories which is the old way, the proven way. Afterwards, he would always ask questions and we’d discuss opinions as food for thought.

  This story passes this tradition on to our little boy who is fascinated by dinosaurs, woolly mammoths, Sabretooth, and the great outdoors.

  Perhaps it might also benefit other young people, or the young at heart.

  Chapter One

  “Knowledge is like a lion; it cannot be gently embraced.” -South African Proverb

  The Song

  The dusky smooth snake slithered unseen down the verdant leafy branches toward the little boy.

  Coal-black serpentine eyes hardened. Its inky forked tongue flickered out, tasting the balmy air.

  An arid wind gust suppressed the menacing hiss, as the bigger boy began climbing.

  The young boys of the Auroch People were hunting mottled bird eggs across the great silver-brown steppe. All but one. Emil lay under the lush, cool shade of a gnarled old tree. He was watching the shapes of the puffy white clouds overhead, imagining fierce shaggy mammoths, and his egg pouch was nearly empty. Dori came running to the tree with a full egg pouch. He gently added a few eggs to his best friend’s pouch, then began climbing with a grin. “Emil, Emil, we are hunting eggs! Who cares about clouds?” Emil just smiled at his husky friend.

  Emil was startled by a sudden painful scream as Dori fell to the ground with a thud. Emil looked up and saw the snake’s scaled tail disappear into the high grass. Dori was pale with a glossy complexion and barely breathing. There were two large red bite marks on his neck. Emil pulled Dori away from the tree while screaming for help. As Papa had taught him, Emil took a sharp flint from his pouch. Tomi, one of the older boys, ran over. Emil gave him the flint in a daze. Tomi opened Dori`s wounds and began sucking and spitting the venom out of the bite.

  The rest of the boys came running over, as did Emil’s mother Lulu. Dori was gone.

  Emil stopped hugging his friend and walked off with bright watery eyes. Life was hard for the People. He didn’t want them to see him cry.

  Back near the village, Emil was absent-mindedly fetching water from the bubbly spring. He felt his mother’s warm arms wrap around him. Lulu sang him a new song about Dori. The People were sure no one knew more songs than Lulu, not even the Elders.

  Emil voiced softly, “Mama, it was all my fault, I should have been climbing the tree, it should have been me, and I cried too.”

  Lulu kissed her son on the forehead and then took his little face in her hands, while looking him in the eyes. “Life is hard, Emil. It was Dori’s time. There’s no fault here. We’ll think of Dori tonight and honor him at the Spirit Ceremony. We can cry, then we go on.” Emil hugged Mama tight.

  Shouts of excitement rang through the camp at dusk. The men were returning from a successful hunt. The dusty hunters were tired and sanguine. Emil ran at full speed for Papa, Aash, jumping into his arms, and checking for wounds.

  “I’m fine, Babo,” grinned Papa, running a coarse hand through Emil’s sandy brown hair. Papa gave Lulu a quick hug and kiss. Emil always insisted on carrying Papa’s heavy spear when the hunters returned. “Babo” was what the People affectionately called their young boys.

  Papa’s charcoal ash spear was a source of pride for Emil. It was perfectly balanced, tapering into a conical obsidian spearpoint. Papa led a hunting team for the People. He was the only hunter in the village who made his own spears. Emil said, “Dori is gone.” Papa knelt, then nodded while he held Emi’s hand tight and gave him a big kiss.

  Then he prompted quietly, “First the Daily Task.” Emil nodded.

  Life was hard for the Auroch People. They were nomadic hunters of the plains. Everyone had daily tasks and the order was important. The task order was village, tools, body. The People had to be ready to move, hunt, or defend themselves on a moment’s notice.

  Everyone had camp jobs. The children set snares, hunted eggs, and gathered water and wood. The women worked the hardest. They maintained the fires, and gathered food while watching the children. They skillfully mended anything that needed it, and guarded the camp during the day. When the men weren’t hunting or scouting, they were repairing the Ghers and weapons.

  First, the village tasks. Fix Ghers, traps, snares, anything that needed repair. Second, equipment tasks. Each hunter would make sure his flint or obsidian-tipped spears were ready. The women would mend footpads before cooking the meat. The children’s responsibility was water. Only then would each person see to their own needs. Finally, the People all relaxed together. It was time for joking, talking, and eating around the large roaring fires. This was the best part of the day.

  Emil was cleaning the water pouches, when he heard light footsteps behind him. The boy spun around and grinned despite the grim events of the day. A sunny voice said, “You’re good, little man, I usually sneak up on people. Your papa tells me you had a long day.” It was Bret, who at seventeen winters wasn’t the youngest hunter of the People, though he was the smallest hunter in the village.

  Bret had briefly been on the same hunting team as Papa back when they were young hunters. The little hunter was always upbeat.
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br />   The People teased Bret. He was so easily underestimated when standing next to the towering Leif, or the powerful Bron. There was also the shaking. The village boys passed rumors that Bret’s hands and knees often shook before and after hunts. They’d smirk about this behind his back. This was understandable from young boys who’d never missed a meal, or faced a charging Grizzly. Yet, many of the adults teased the little hunter as well.

  Emil had seen the little hunter’s hands shaking one foggy morning before hunting a cackle of marauding hyenas.

  Bret had said, “It’s true my hands can tremble before a hunt. If they knew where I was taking them today, they’d shake even more.”

  Emil knew Papa, who joked and playfully teased with everyone, truly respected the little hunter. The boy liked Bret because he was funny, and never talked down to him like he was a kid.

  Emil told Bret about Dori. The little hunter squatted down on his haunches to face the boy.

  “That’s a rough day. A snakebite took my mother too, when I was a bit older than you. Snakes kill more people than any other forest creature, Emil. Always be alert for snakes. Now let’s see your water pouch, young buck.”

  Bret looked it over; there was no design on it. Bret began carving a flying fish design into Emil’s leather water pouch. “A flying fish has always been lucky for me on the hunt, so now you have one too. We actually make our own luck, Emil, but every bit helps.”

  Emil thanked him. The little hunter went on, “Do you want to learn a trick that helps me run fast?” Everyone knew Bret ran like the wind.

  Bret told him, “If you are relaxed you can run faster and longer. Loosen up before runs. First, I want my arms relaxed, so I drop my arms and really shake my fingers. Then I make sure my jaws are stretched and loose.”

  Bret stopped and looked Emil in the eye. “At first whenever I was sad, I ran. Then just to do it. Now the wind itself can’t catch me.”

  The little hunter shook his hand firmly, and walked off into the scarlet-orange sunset. The tantalizing smells of sizzling meat wafted over the village. Emil finished cleaning the water pouches just as Mama called him to eat.

  Bret was quietly talking with Papa at the evening meal. His finger traced a slow, treacherous circling path around the village. Papa nodded and tested the wind. He looks very serious, thought Emil. Then Papa saw him watching, and scooped him up with a tickling hug.

  Emil sat cuddled between his parents eating quietly. There was ripe fruit, mottled blue eggs, and plenty of fresh roasted meat from the day’s hunt. Papa was very quiet afterwards, and Mama knew something was on his mind.

  Later in their Gher, Papa told Emil, “Crying isn’t weakness, but don’t do it too much. Dori was a good boy who died finding food for the People. He’s made the journey we must all make. Dori’s with the Sky Spirits of our ancestors now, little one.”

  “You cry too, Papa?” Emil asked.

  Papa nodded and said, “Life is hard, Babo, but beautiful. Everyone cries sometimes. Then we must be brave and go on.”

  As Emil slept, Mama held Papa close. “I worry for him, he blames himself for poor Dori, and the others tease him for daydreaming,” she said.

  Papa smiled. “I was never the strongest boy or the fastest, and the best girl in the village picked me. Emil never quits. His mind is swift, and he speaks the truth with a smile or rhyme. The People will respect this.”

  Then Papa whispered, “There are fresh Sabretooth tracks circling the village. This will be trouble. Keep yourself and the boys close to the village for now.” Papa held Mama’s head snug to his chest until she fell asleep.

  Emil woke up to Mama’s cheerful blue eyes and smiling face. Papa and Mama’s sleeping furs were neatly rolled and tied. Mama told Emil, “Babo, make your sleeping furs, have some water, and then go check the little traps with the boys.”

  Emil was still sleepy, asking, “Mama why do we make the sleeping furs first every morning?”

  Mama said, “It’s our way. When the first thing we do in the morning is make our sleeping furs, we start the day doing something right. Some days are good, others are bad. This way, every day starts with something we can control and do right.”

  As Emil was making his sleeping furs Mama said, “Papa and the hunters want everyone back in the village before dusk. After morning chores there will be a fire lesson.”

  Fire was very important to the Auroch People. It kept them warm, cooked their meat, and kept them safe at night. Everyone in the village must know how to quickly make fire with sticks, moss, or flint.

  The sound of singing in the camp welcomed the hunters’ weary return at dusk. Emil ran to Papa, boisterously singing a new song.

  “First a dry stick long

  Then flat wood wide

  Turn it fast with song

  Until sparks inside

  Then tinder slow

  Blow, Blow, Blow!”

  The dust-covered men sipped water and hugged their families in greeting. All the children were scampering around like happy little monkeys. They were singing this new song with glee.

  Papa scooped up Emil and sat him up on his shoulders. Children are so resilient, he thought. Mama hugged Papa with a proud smile on her face. “My son Emil made up a fire song and all the children use it to remember.”

  Papa`s dark brown eyes wrinkled in reply. “Oh, you mean my son Emil has a new fire song for the People. You must teach me the words.”

  Emil looked down. “Papa, is there fresh meat today?”

  Papa shook his head. “We chased a herd of red deer all day into the hills, and speared a big one. It passed right by the cave of a great bear as it died. He took our kill.”

  Emil said, “That’s not right, it was our kill!”

  Mama and Papa smiled and Emil already knew what they’d say.

  “I know, I know, life isn’t fair,” Emil said.

  Emil was curious: “Papa, was it a black bear or a Grizzly?”

  Papa answered, “A big brown bear, and mean too. We wouldn’t have let a black bear take our kill. With a Grizzly it’s different.”

  Mama said pleasantly, “We gathered fresh roots, berries, and eggs today. There’s enough food.”

  Lulu’s cheerful spirit always warmed Aash’s heart. Even if he didn’t say this enough.

  Papa looked up at Emil and whispered in his ear. “Learn from Mama, little one. Do you see how strong and cheerful she is? Life is hard, but beautiful.”

  Then it was time for the daily tasks. Emil and the boys ran off to clean water pouches and snag kindling for the evening meal. The sight of four little boys, wrestling a long thick log over to the fires, brought a smile to the hunters’ weathered faces.

  Papa was sharpening his obsidian spearpoint when he saw Emil do something curious. The boy stood alone shaking his fingers and loosening his jaw up and down, back and forth.

  Then he watched Emil running laps around the village, as the other boys wrestled and practiced throwing spears. Mama called them both for the evening meal.

  It was a beautiful summer sunset. This was big sky country. A blend of gently rolling white clouds with subtle purplish pink hues, all set amidst a backdrop of warm amber rays.

  The evening fires cackled, jumped, and danced in the nocturnal winds. This was an invitation from the Sky Spirits to do the same. The rhythmic beat of the drums built up with sounds of laughter.

  It would start with the children. As the drums clapped, they’d pretend to be the wavy flames themselves. Everyone knew there was fire in the body. Why else does smoke escape with breath in the cold? The women would join next. Everyone is young when dancing, waving their hands overhead, and laughing with little ones.

  The men danced last, circling the flames with spears in hand. It was more jumping than dancing. Each man jumped up as high as he could to the beat of the drums. The running joke was the bravest men were actually the poorest jumpers. They jumped to thank the Sky Spirits for this day and for the company of brave men. They danced to renew their
courage. It didn’t matter if this worked or not. Every morning the hunters set out to face deadly hoofs, horns, and claws. The dangers of dawn were inevitable. The hunters had to produce meat for the People.

  The children suddenly squealed with peals of laughter. Bret was doing his turtle dance. The little hunter would hop on one foot, then do a jumping spin, hopping on the other. Then he’d flop on his back with his arms and legs flaying like an upended turtle. The impressive part was the little hunter could flip off his back right back up onto one leg. As the children copied him, none of the People could keep a straight face. There is no sound in the world like happy children.

  Papa stopped jumping and took over some drums to let the drummers dance. Emil settled in his lap, slowly adding the wild patter of little hands to the merry din.

  “Papa,” asked Emil, “Bret was on a hunting team. Why did he leave to hunt alone?”

  Papa stopped drumming, declaring, “I don’t know, Babo.” Emil didn’t like this answer.

  Aash reminded his son, “A man’s business is his own until he cares to reveal it.”

  The boy thought this over carefully. Emil went back to playing the drums.

  Chapter Two

  “When the grass whispers, the lion stalks the land.” -Ashanti Proverb

  Wolf Cub

  The wily old Sabretooth struck that Stygian night. Even the owls were silent, as the moonless winds masked the big cat’s presence until dawn. Tarik, the venerable old Spearmaker of almost thirty-four winters, was gone. From the tracks, he was taken as he stepped outside his Gher to make water. This was a severe blow to the People. Tarik’s expertly crafted spears were vital for hunting and defense.

  Papa quietly sifted a bit of dirt through his hand. His hunting team grimly prepared to track down the Sabretooth. Sev, the Chief of the Auroch People, inspected Papa’s obsidian-tipped spear.

  “Aash, you will not go hunt this Sabretooth,” Chief Sev said.