Returning Home

After a long season of murder and thievery, the Macari tribes finally return home to rest for the winter. But something troubles Sufoh.

Returning home

 

 Sufoh trekked silently through a path of trampled grass, mist creeping around his ankles as he moved around wide tree trunks and keenly scanned his surroundings. He sniffed the air. An extraordinary sense of smell revealed a variety of odors, most of them being trees and animals, but none were human. Sufoh gnashed his teeth in frustration.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

          It was the final day of the gathering season and he was on his way home after raiding a village, east of the Forbidden Forest. The villagers were poor, but very good farmers. Sufoh, and the fifty-man unit he had been put in charge of, had successfully stolen their entire harvest and were headed home when one of his men stopped, declaring that he had heard someone following them. Sufoh ignored him at first, but the rest of the unit insisted they'd heard something as well. As leader, it was Sufoh's responsibility to check while the others went ahead without him. So he did and found nothing.

          A cloudless dark sky hung overhead; allowing a big, round, silver moon to shed its light over the sleeping forest. The trees cast long, foreboding shadows onto the misty floor that moistened Sufoh's exposed toes, which the cool air had nearly numbed.

Sufoh was a young warrior; sixty and one seasons of age, but only nine seasons into manhood. Still, he was the top-ranked soldier in the White Wolf Tribe, first of the seven Macari tribes. His white robe was dirty and tattered from travel and battle and a sheathed sword was held at his waist by a cloth belt. Thick black hair fell over his dark face and blood-red eyes.

He assigned me new recruits, Sufoh angrily realized as he headed west.

He suspected that the unit was inexperienced, but his having to go back confirmed it. Anyone that had done more than one Gathering knew that there weren't many men around with the audacity to seek out a Macari tribe on their own or even in a group. And even if there were one so foolish as to pursue them, they would never continue that pursuit into the Forbidden Forest.

There were tales hidden in the shade of those, dark, looming trees, that kept even the most valiant of warriors away. Tales of the Supernatural: giant wolves and demon spirits, otherworldly creatures lurking about; drooling over the occasional human. That was why, not a single person that had ever ventured into the Forbidden Forest ever returned. At least, that was what legend held.

          Sufoh stopped when he met a gurgling stream. The dark water rushed through the grass and weaved between trees. This stream, he believed, began in the ice caps of the Guzile, a mountain range east of the forest. It flowed into the forest, though his village, and somewhere south. Since Sufoh had never been south of the village, he didn't know exactly where. He did know, however, that following it would ultimately lead him home, as it had done many times before.

          He kept a steady pace, not too brisk but not excessively slow. By midnight, the small stream had led him to a hollowed out fallen tree about six cubits in diameter. This tree served as a natural pathway to Sufoh's village. Small wooden buildings stood close together, in organized rows, made from the trees that had been cut down to clear the area. Closer to the center of the village, the buildings were larger, made of stone brought down from the Guzile. Moss and ivy covered the stone, camouflaging it with the surrounding forest and the rest of the buildings. Under the brilliance of the full moon, they cast shadows, nigh invisible in the darkness, especially with no candles or torches to light the village.

          The Macaris had many hidden villages in the forest. The White Wolf Tribe, in particular, had four. Sufoh's was called Pecskar. It was the largest of the four White Wolf villages. A great deal of its size was made up the palace of Lord Jayis, leader of the Wolves. The colossal structure stood as tall as the giant trees that flanked it on its four corners. Complete with a gated courtyard, it occupied an area that could fit ten large houses, at the very least.

          Sufoh strolled through the quiet village to his own home. There wasn't a single person outside tonight. Even the wolves were sleeping. Tomorrow, though, Sufoh was sure that his tribe and every other Macari tribe would be united in celebration of one of the most successful Gatherings their race had ever seen.

          The gathering season usually yielded barely enough food to make it through the season of Slumber. The Macaris would generally have to cut the rations of the tribe's non-military personnel, but not this time. This season had brought about enough that all ten tribes could eat bountifully and not even those who did not enlist in the army—therefore choosing not to help with Gathering—would have to suffer.

          Sufoh arrived at his home; a large, majestic building—overly majestic in his own opinion. The spacious foyer led him to a junction that included a staircase, a hallway that led to his and his sister, Kidja's bedchambers, and another hallway, which Sufoh rarely went down. He kept his unwanted belongings in some of the rooms and let Kidja play in the others. She was the only reason Sufoh accepted the house offered to him as part of his military position. Otherwise, he would have preferred something a little simpler.

          Sufoh took the stairs past the second floor—another place he rarely ventured—and through a trap door that led to the roof. There, he sat on the ledge and looked out over the village. It was rare that it was ever this peaceful, even at night, and if there was one thing that Sufoh enjoyed, it was peace.

          His serenity didn't last for very long, however. He could not escape thoughts of what had happened three seasons ago. The secret had been clawing at him like a caged animal, but he had been sworn to silence. Sufoh had kept his vow, but didn't know how much longer he could keep what had happened hidden.

          His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps on the rooftop. He placed a hand on his sword and readied himself to strike, sniffing the air for the intruder's scent. It was familiar. He let his guard down when he realized that the intruder was not a danger to him. Looking back, he saw the silhouette of a woman. Two swords sat strapped to her back. As she stepped into the path of the moonlight, Sufoh recognized her long, smooth black hair. In the light of the moon, her eyes matched it perfectly. Her face was absolutely beautiful, with the exception of the deep scar on her right cheek. Sufoh reminisced on the day she got it. He had put it there during a sparring session, many seasons ago.

          She took a seat beside him and looked out into the village, trying to see what he was so intrigued by. When she didn't find it, she looked up at the moon. Sufoh was silent.  It was as if he didn't even know she was there.

          "The moon is lovely tonight," she said. "Why don't you look up at it? It's far more appealing than the village."

          "I am not in the mood, Eana," Sufoh replied, tonelessly.

          Eana took Sufoh's head in her hands and turned it to look at her. "Come on Sufoh," she said. "It won't be long before the season of Death approaches. Clouds occupy the night sky a lot during that season. This might be your last chance to see it for a while. We've rounded up every piece of food and treasure in this Land. You could at least smile for me."

          Sufoh didn't smile, nor did he do anything else. His eyes were void, and his face was vacant. Looking at him, it wasn't hard for her to tell that something was troubling him. He was a very deep thinker to be so young, so he often pondered things that would seldom cross most people's minds. But, contrary to what his look said, Sufoh hardly ever truly concerned himself with anything.

          "What's the matter?" asked Eana.

          Sufoh shook his head. "Do not worry yourself with my troubles. It has been a good season and you should go home and rest. You have earned it."

          "I don't think I want to rest until I know that you will." Eana stared into Sufoh's red eyes. They were so empty and malevolent, but she loved them. They were truly a window to his soul. The same eyes that struck fear into the hearts of his enemies, comforted his friends, none more so than Eana. As Sufoh took Eana's hand and turned to face her, the rare sight of the warrior's smile warmed her heart.

          "You are right," he said, looking up. "The moon is quite lovely tonight. I guess neither of us will be resting, but we have an entire season for that, after all."

          Sufoh's change in disposition brought a smile to Eana's face. It was good to see him in a good mood, as rare as they came. There were so many people that didn't know him, so many that thought him to be a ruthless, bloodthirsty, murderer, and though their perceptions of him were just, they were still so very wrong, she thought. But, that was one thing that only those closest to Sufoh knew, and that was how he preferred it.

Eana laid her head on Sufoh's lap. With all that the tribe had been doing to prepare for the coming season, it had been a while since they had been alone. Sufoh's position in the army precluded him from being with a woman that wasn't amongst Lord Jayis's most loyal warriors, which Eana was not. She didn't care though, and she knew Sufoh didn't care either. He refused to show it, but she knew that Sufoh loved her as much as she loved him.

Together, the two of them sat under moonlight until the early hours of the dawn. 

Author's Note

No notes.