Chapter One - Hunted

The first chapter, explaining the situation and culture of the Lataeri.

 

 

 

 

 

Caera looked up at the crescent moon, listening closely to the sounds carried by the wind. Save for the delicate swish of sand dancing in the faint blue light, everything was silent. He was tense, worried. The wolves had not howled for three nights, and the small nomadic group of men and women were left unprotected. The wolves had gone without warning of leave, and the small perimeters of the encampment were insecure without the them. Caera feared the worst -- that the wolves had been slain. It was unlike them to not communicate before taking action. He heaved a sigh and felt a gentle tap on his right shoulder. Caera turned to meet the eyes of a boy a few years younger than he, named Racae. They nodded knowingly to each other and Caera left his post, stepping briskly back to the miniscule encampment.

 

There were twenty three men and women left in Caera’s tribe. They represented one of the dozens and dozens of small groups of Lataeri traveling throughout the Eletaera continent. When the war between the two races, the Lataeri and Arasin, had begun, the Lataeri’s country split into four large and divided groups. That had been over twenty years ago, and the world Caera was born into. The four large groups continued to break up and disperse, and now the Lataeri were nothing more than nomadic men fighting to survive in a world seemingly built against them.

 

Caera made it back to his tent and stepped inside delicately, being careful not to wake the others inside. His father and brother were snoring lightly, but Koi and Maera were whispering quietly to one another.

 

“Why are you two still awake?” Caera groaned as he flopped onto his cold blanket, an insignificant barrier against the hard ground.

 

“Can’t sleep when the wolves don’t howl…” Koi replied simply.

 

“Can’t sleep when Koi can’t sleep.” Maera imitated.

 

“Besides, our stomachs have been talking more than we have.” Koi said in an extremely irritable voice.

 

Caera’s eyebrows knitted as Koi’s observation reminded him of the stab of hunger that was attacking his own stomach. He nor any of the other older boys had eaten a decent meal in two days. Since the wolves were gone, the hunters were very much afraid of leaving the encampment. The only thing that scared them more than hunting, however, was the looming disaster of an offensive attack by the Arasin. Every group of Lataeri nomads had it’s day. Most commonly, there were no escapees, no survivors.

 

“We will hunt tomorrow, during the day.” Caera told the boys, trying to give them a reason to relax. He ignored the knotted feeling in his stomach and it was an hour before he fell into an uncomfortable sleep.

 

“Caera. Wake up.” Takeri shook his brother’s shoulder gently. Caera’s eyes blinked open slowly, painfully adjusting to the light. He felt he had slept for no more than five minutes. “You look exhausted. Are you sure you’re fit to hunt?” Takeri asked, but the concern in his voice was laced with hope. “Maybe I should take your place.”

 

Caera shoved his brother and received a hard kick in the shoulder in return, in a typical brotherly fashion.

 

“No way. It’s not safe right now.” He sat up, wiping his light blonde hair out of his eyes.

 

“So it’s more safe for you than me? That makes no sense big brother.” Takeri smirked.

 

Caera turned his head, flinching at the sharp pain in his neck. He glared lovingly at his little brother. “Takeri, I’m serious. You know as well as I do about the wolves.”

 

“We’ve still got the dogs.” Takeri commented, trying as hard as he could to weasel his way into the hunt. He wanted so desperately to be a productive member of the tribe, and even though he was considered of age, Caera wouldn’t allow it.

 

Caera sighed, and left the tent in a swift movement. He blinked at the sunlight and the hatred for the hot weather of the desert seeped into his veins. The Lataeri came from a northern country that had a thick layer of snow blanketing the ground for the greater part of the year. They were supposed to have pale, pearly skin, but the harsh desert had turned everyone an unnatural bronze color.

 

“The desert is no place for a Lataeri…” He spoke bitterly to himself. Grabbing up his bow and a quiver of arrows, Caera looked right and left to find Ettor, the hunt leader.

 

“This way.” A large man name Boulder clapped Caera’s back and continued to walk. Caera looked back to see Takeri standing in front of the tent door, attitude slathered on his frame like sticky honey. He had his arms crossed tightly over his chest. Caera pointed a finger at him along with one word.

 

“Stay.”

 

Caera and four other hunters leaked out of camp slowly, their heads turning constantly for any sign of danger. The sun burned in a great orange explosion in the sky, and the hunters felt as if their clothes would burst into flame and fall off of their bodies. A feeling of dread filled Caera’s stomach as he noticed, by a small oasis at least a hundred feet away, six dark mounds scattered across the ground. The hunters approached the spot determinedly and cautiously. Fear turned into dread that turned into sorrow as a horrifying scene unfolded before them.

 

The six masses were the decaying forms of their wolves. Their blood was dried brown into the sand, and matted into their fur like mud. Caera and several of the other men collapsed to their knees. Caera grabbed the neck of one of the young wolves, Shinsi. Her skin felt hard and resisted his touch. Her body was littered with lacerations -- the work of a human sword. Caera stroked the clean spot with care, wishing with his heart and soul that her chest would rise and fall, as it was supposed to. He blinked back stinging tears.

 

“Is this Arasin work?” One of the men asked, addressing Ettor.

 

“I don’t think so.” Ettor replied. He had obviously been assessing the idea since they identified the bodies. “They would have come for us already.”

 

“It doesn’t matter.” Caera spoke angrily, rising up to his feet. No one would meet his hard gaze. “Let’s hunt.” He stepped deliberately away from the grisly scene, wanting to leave it behind as soon as possible.

 

They hunted for five hours straight, never stopping to rest or drink. Along the way, they killed six large desert birds, and by the grace of some unknown power, thought Caera, killed two large deer who had though themselves safe in an unusually thick cover of bushes. Their hike back to camp was brutal, as Boulder and Caera each carried a deer across their shoulders and the other two men held the hunting gear and birds. The food would barely be enough to feed the camp. Small portions would be dealt, just enough to keep everyone alive.

 

The hunters made it back to camp safely. They were relieved to discover that many of the women had left that day to gather roots and other edible plants that would supplement the meat retrieved. Caera dropped his deer to the ground with a grotesque thud, and panted heavily. He left the deer to the butcher and marched back to his tent, craving sleep.

 

Koi, Maera, and Takeri were waiting for him with eager violet eyes shining.

 

“Did you make a kill?” Koi inquired excitedly.

 

“Two deer six birds.” Caera replied, not wasting his breath on unnecessary words.

 

“What about the wolves?”

 

Caera looked from Koi’s face, to Maera’s, to Takeri’s. They instantly read the pained look in his eyes, and didn’t question him further. The moment Caera’s head laid down on his bundled up tunic he was asleep.

 

“What happened?” Maera asked quietly, looking to Takeri as if he had read his brother’s mind.

 

“I… I don’t know. Let’s go find Ettor.”

 

Caera awoke at twilight, as Lokai and his son, Amril, were distributing the food rations. Lokai was the undisputed leader of the camp, and had achieved the position naturally. He had a dominating nature and an ability to stay cool in heated situations that served the tribe well. All twenty three members of the camp had come together to hear Lokai speak. Everyone sat on the ground, meager rations in their laps. Most ate their food slowly, as if absorbing every calorie of nutrition independently.

 

Lokai stood before the gathering, the firelight of the torches flashing in his deep violet eyes.

 

“After much thought, I, along with the other family heads of this tribe, have decided it is time to move our encampment.”

 

Immediately there was a buzz of discussion. Takeri looked at Caera with fear in his eyes. Caera grabbed his brothers shoulder in a comforting manner, pressing his thumb into Takeri’s collar bone.

 

“I am aware of the danger of the action,” Lokai continued when the voices hushed, “but with our wolves gone, it is more dangerous out here in the open. We will travel to Berek forest. We leave at dawn.”

 

Caera looked up and met Amril’s gaze. Amril’s usually sarcastic expression was now riddled with fear, his one eye glinting. Amril and Caera had been close friends since they were toddlers, and had the scars to speak of it. In a skirmish with Arasin soldiers, Amril had had his left eye cut out with a dagger. Caera had been in the right place at the right time, slicing the soldier’s throat before he could take more than just Amril’s eye.

 

“Do you think it’s a good idea?” Caera asked Amril a short time after dinner, as they walked to the northern post of the camp, preparing for their night watch.

 

“I think leaving is a bad idea, I think staying is a bad idea.” Amril replied.

 

“That’s… ominous.” Caera smirked, attempting to lighten his friends spirits.

 

“Caera, we can’t win this. You know that as well as I.”

 

Caera was shocked at his friend’s statement, and even slightly angered.

 

“Well I for one want to go out fighting.” Caera said crossly. Amril didn’t respond.

 

The two sat in silence for a long time, and eventually the slight tension faded. In a situation like theirs, there was no room for uneasiness and instability. Every man and woman had to bond irrevocably to one another. It was agree or die. Just as they began to relax, however, a sickening sound pounded against their eardrums. A loud, clear whistle. It meant danger.

 

The Arasin were coming.

Author's Note

Let me know if anything is unclear or confusing.