The First Two
II. The Quarrel in the Wood
Thin, sparse whiskers of blue upon Rakka’to’s chin was evidence of the steady maturing of the once fearful little boy who hid behind his older brother's shoulder in the Wood so many years ago. Rakka'to Kuhn sat, back straight, shoulders squared and kneeling, exuding the once proud yet disciplined aura his sibling often had emanated before him. Directly across from him sat his mother, mirroring his stance. They were alone together in a clearing, rare in the ordinarily thick Wood. Bathing in the pale glow of the moon and stars overhead Rakka's shoulders relaxed and an easy expression crossed her otherwise normally placid features, they had just concluded a purposeful conversation.
"I am relieved ye came te be the hunter ye are," she said in a tone just above a whisper, her normally strong voice carrying a hint of tenderness. The teenaged Rakka'to betrayed a wisp of a smile, and his mother continued, "After yer brother committed a foul, I thought again on teachin' my sons the art. I thought I might be conditionin' a natural strand o' poachers rather than independent men who can fend fer themselves. That all four of my boys would forever remain in the men's huts at the tribesground, and never set out on their own. But it seems that fate is only for Rakka'a. Time will tell with the twins."
Rakka'to maintained his attentive posture, but could not wholly conceal the small smirk tugging at his lips. He was proud, and as far as his mother was concerned, he had every right to be. With a formal dip of his head, he spoke in a solemn tone, mimicking the tone his elder brother often assumed when he was still recognized as a hunter, "Ye speak me undue praise, mother."
His mother smiled a rare, warm smile, then climbed to her feet. She held her hand out to him and spoke. "Yer small brothers owe ye a kindness. It's for you that I teach them at all. Perhaps once ye've completed yer trial, you might consider helpin' Rakka'li some te hold his bow right."
'To chuckled as he took her hand, allowing the huntress to pull him to his feet. "I'd entrust that te Akkhi. I haven't proven my worth yet, and there's no tellin' if'n I'll come back successful from the provin' grounds."
Soon it would be time for Rakka'to to prove his worth and gain formal recognition from the tribe as a huntsman, earning the right to hunt alone if he so chose. This was an almost necessary tradition for the few males of their tribe, as most of them would leave before they were twenty to live in seclusion. Those who couldn't fend for themselves or who were deemed unfit to embark from the tribe would remain until old age took them, and they would often never have any part in mating.
Rakka'to was, in actuality, an alarmingly good hunter. His brother had talent when he was a hunter, but Rakka'to was now almost as old as his elder brother had been on that fateful day when Rakka'a lost his hunting privileges, and he was twice the huntsman - only no one knew it. He spent much of his solitary time in the wood, getting real hands-on experience with beasts far mightier than the simple antelope doe. The trial would be all too easy, but admitting that would bring his mother's eye down upon him, as well as the rest of the tribe's. There were things he wasn't quite prepared to reveal about his hunting habits, not yet.
"Well, ye'll need plenty o' rest," Rakka said, directing her gaze upward. The sky was beginning to purple with the first hints of the morning sun. "Ye start first thing in the evening," she reminded him. The Keepers were nocturnal, so it stood to reason that sleep came during the brightest parts of the day.
Rakka'to bowed to his mother and stood. "I won't disappoint you," he said, evoking a good humored scoff from Rakka. With that, he turned towards the distant tribesground and departed from the clearing, in to the woods.
The tribesground was built in a densely wooded area. The center of the village was made up of clusters of huts, twisting around the chaotic scattering of thick-trunked trees that stretched forever in to the sky. The huts were typically constructed with wood, clay, and hay, and decorated with luminescent paint that seemed to catch the moonlight even far below the canopy. The dwellings that belonged to the more influential members of the tribe were closest to the communal area where the chieftainness would convene with the tribe when necessary. The clearing was patchy as far as grass growth was concerned, trampled so thoroughly by foot traffic that bald earth dominated the area. The clearing was also the place where, four years ago, Rakka'a had been stripped of his title as a hunter and forbidden from teaching his younger brother the art. It felt to Rakka'to as though it was an eternity ago. To Rakka'a, it felt like it had happened only yesterday.
Further on the outskirts of the tribesground was a pond lined with tall weeds and tangled shrubbery. The greenery not only obscured the pond from view of the central tribesground, but the few huts that belonged to the men of the tribe. Grown men did not reside with women, and in this particular Keeper tribe, a male came of age on his fourteenth nameday. By twenty, most men would set out to live alone in the woods, but some would remain. Rakka'to was only recently dubbed a man himself, and he had just begun to live with his now nineteen year old brother. The space they shared was small, but in truth, no man in the tribe had any trouble sharing space with kin and close friends. Rakka'a and Rakka'to, in fact, like many other males in the tribe, slept side by side on the same straw mat. There were nine adult males in their tribe - the most the tribe had ever seen. That was nearly one adult male to every four adult females.
Despite harboring the secret that Rakka’a had taken responsibility for Rakka’to’s wrong doing, the brothers were close. Rakka’a had selflessly accepted the revocation of his role as hunter and teacher and had taken to fishing, gathering, and whatever crafts or hobbies interested him, while Rakka’to became a fine hunter.
Entering their shared living space, Rakka'to noted Rakka'a's presence, the older male sat cross-legged on the ground of their hut, busying himself by creating jewelry from hempen string, agates, fangs, and bone chips. He paused briefly and looked up from his work to smile at his brother. Rakka'to reflected the smile.
"Tomorrah's the big night," Rakka'a commented. "Hope yer more successful than ye been on some o' yer practice runs."
When he was included in tribal hunting excursions, Rakka'to often feigned an unsteady elbow or a nervous blink at the wrong time, so that he would return home without a kill. He'd put an arrow in a tree when he could have put it in the eye of a skittering critter. He'd fire at a rock instead of directly in to the throat of a fearsome predator, allowing his "experienced" hunting band to take care of the threat. The boy had more talent than he felt safe to share - or rather, more practice. At his age, he had hunted alone in secret far more times than Rakka'a had hunted alone. Solitary hunting, before formal recognition as a hunter, was against the tribe's rules.
It began a year ago, when he first stole away unbeknownst to the tribe in the middle of daylight intending to privately refine his skill on live game. He had ventured far, and had encountered a band of Keeper huntswomen. They were hostile to him at first, but they relented when he showed potential. They were not a tribe, they were in fact poachers by profession, and they took the spoils of their hunt to fences in the Twelveswood, selling them for Gil. While Rakka'to's tribe had never had much use for Gil, the poachers showed him what good money could provide and how quickly he could make it by taking down forbidden game. He was shown things that had him considering how he could vastly improve the way his tribe lived: better materials for their shelters, better utensils for cooking, better weapons for hunting and self-defense, medicines for all manner of illnesses. So many treasures and luxuries, it made his head spin.
Following that, every week he would sneak out once or twice to hunt with or for the poachers. Hidden in the woods, he stashed his rapidly accumulating stockpile of Gil. He became a sharp shot, and a superb tracker, all from poaching. His mother would have beaten and disowned him in a heartbeat if she knew. He pledged he would one day reveal what he had been doing, but not until he had the gifts he'd intended for the tribe to demonstrate its necessity.
Rakka'to showed his brother a stiff smile before retorting, "I'm not that bad a shot."
"Yeah, ye just think rocks look 'n awful lot like critters," the older Keeper said with a teasing scoff.
Rakka'to didn't seem to find this funny. "Maybe I shot th' rock b'cause I didn't want te show off."
"Right, sure, and I'm the chieftainness of th' North tribe" Rakka'a replied, disbelieving as he focused on threading a leather cord through the steel cap that had been grafted around the base of an animal's fang.
Normally, teasing didn't get a rise out of Rakka'to. Maybe it was his nerves. Even if he was confident in his abilities, tomorrow would be a very big day for him, and he really was desperate to prove himself to his mother, as well as the rest of the tribe. He'd intentionally sold himself short... but maybe too short, and in so doing his tribe's confidence in him wasn't as high as he'd have liked. His brother's confidence in him was insultingly low. In the dizzying height of his sudden anger, he blurted. "I've killed far more prey than ye ever 'ave."
Rakka'a looked up from his work, looking momentarily wounded. Rakka'a hadn't hunted in half a decade, and he long ago lost hope he’d ever be permitted to hunt again, unless he went into exile. He was quick to collect himself though, giving his younger brother a flat look, "Yer fourteen. What are ye at now, six kills in a group hunt that're yers undisputed? ‘Round my fifteenth nameday I was up te twenty-five, not countin' the group hunts."
"Oh I've far more kills 'n ye know," Rakka'to replied hotly.
"That so?" Rakka'a replied, folding his arms. "And when did ye get them, then?"
Rakka'to grimaced and looked away with a mixture of guilt and displeasure on his face. "I don't need to explain myself te ye. Ye'r no hunter."
The elder sibling was a little surprised. He had assumed they were just joking around, taking jabs at one another, but the serious, guilty look on Rakka'to's face had him rethinking that assessment. Rakka'to wasn't allowed to hunt alone yet, so there was no way he could have gotten more kills than the bands he'd hunted with attributed to him. Instead of saying anything about it, Rakka'a shrugged a shoulder and looked away, busying himself with his necklace.
Rakka'to glowered. "Nothin' te say te me?"
"No," Rakka'a replied simply. His tone had gone serious as well, but he forced a smile, wanting to believe they were still just joking around.
"You know I'm twice the hunter you were," Rakka'to spat, still angry.
"I know," his brother replied, still not rising to the challenge.
Silenced, 'To moved across their hut and snatched his satchel, then marched toward the exit.
The older sibling spoke up. "Where are ye goin' this time o' the mornin'?"
"Shooting practice," Rakka'to said with sharp sarcasm. As he turned quickly, poking his arm out to part the curtain that sheltered the hut's entrance from the weather, he fumbled with his satchel and dropped it. It hit the ground heavily, spilling a myriad of items. Dried provisions for a hunt were among them, as well as arrowheads that had been protectively wrapped in cloth in the event a quiver broke.
It was nothing out of the ordinary, but Rakka'to was quick to get to his knees and start hastily gathering up what had spilled. That was when Rakka'a noticed the bone whistle. 'To shot him a defensive glance, and his brother feigned interest in the necklace in his lap, as though he'd never set eyes on the whistle. He'd heard bone whistles when he was younger, and his mother had told him that was how poachers communicated. The Gridanian forces weren't privy to the practice, but Keeper tribes most certainly were.
Rakka'to left then, looking sullen. Some of the men who were still awake gave him strange or worried looks, but he ignored them as he headed to the range where the huntresses often practiced their aim.
The next evening the tribesground was bustling, all of the tribe going about their business as usual. Akkhi, the eldest of the huntress and warrior Rakka's children, walked past a breakfast fire with a squirming infant in her arms. There she found her mother, sitting to enjoy her meal. Beside her were two identical little boys, no more than eight years old, making faces at each other when they thought mother wasn’t looking. Both became quietly obedient when their big sister shot them a look.
Rakka looked up to her daughter, then rose to her feet, crossing to take the infant from her gently. Akkhi smiled. "She misses 'er grandma."
"Stop that. Ye'll make me feel old," Rakka replied, humorlessly. "The boys were goin' te play with their friends at the Eastern edge."
"Trade ye," Akkhi said, grinning. When Rakka nodded, her daughter beckoned the boys to her, and they both climbed to their feet, racing to Akkhi. She placed her hands atop their heads, peering down at them. They were tall for their age, but Akkhi was twelve years their senior, and they were far from adulthood. "What're ye goin' te play?"
One of the boys shrugged. "Figurin' we'll decide that when we get there." The other twin nodded in agreement, as the first continued. "Mayhap we'll play keep-up or hide-and-hunt. But some of the girls're little 'n can't run as fast as us."
"Oh? Aren't ye confident? They might also be lighter on their feet th'n ye. Did ye consider that?" Akkhi replied.
The boy looked away, thoughtful, while his brother stared up at Akkhi, tail flicking anxiously. "Li's gonna show us a big tree," Sae chirped.
"That so?" Akkhi replied, grinning down at him.
He nodded, looking between Li and his sister. "He says it's bigger 'n the one 'To saw on his autumn hunting trip, 'n that if'n ye try te shoot a arrow at it, ye couldn't hit the tip top. Even ma probably couldn't, he says."
Akkhi nodded, turning the boys towards the tribesground's limits, where a few other children had already gathered. ""It ain't too far away, right?"
Li shook his head up at her. "It's ‘afore the river, right at the edge. I'm gonna climb it."
"No yer not," Akkhi said firmly.
"I'm gonna climb it," Sae echoed.
The older sister sighed. "No, yer not either."
"Fine..." the twins conceded, pouting simultaneously. They gave each other looks that clearly said they were far from actually yielding to her command. Akkhi paid it no mind.
"Be careful ye don't startle any hunters either," she warned.
"Is Rakka'to hunting in the East wood?" Li asked.
Akkhi shook her head. "No, he's down south far's I been told. Still, he ain't the only hunter in the wood, I'm sure."
"When he comes back," Sae started. "D'ye think him 'n Rakka'a 'll make up?"
"Pakoh'a said he heard 'em fightin' last eve," Li explained.
"Everyone's heard that by now. I'm sure they will," Akkhi reassured them. She gently nudged them forward when they came to stand at the edge of the tribesground, four young girls awaiting them. "Now go play, and don't get ye in te any trouble, hear?"
The twins nodded and darted off, meeting their friends and beginning their departure in to the woods. Akkhi let out an exasperated sigh and turned back to her mother, whose attention seemed to be wholly on the infant girl in her arms. She watched them silently until her mother spoke.
"Rakka'a is jealous this day," she said simply. "So he took it out on 'is brother. Selfish."
Akkhi nodded slowly, looking aimlessly off towards the male’s huts. "Why don't ye talk t'im, mother?"
"I've nothin' te say te 'im," Rakka said coolly.
Her eldest daughter pressed her lips together. No one liked to challenge Rakka, but Akkhi was quite close to Rakka’a, and she found it rather out of character for him to be angry with Rakka'to for pursuing recognition as a hunter. If anything, Rakka'a was happy for his brother, and worried - but not jealous. "Rakka'a's not the type te, well..."
"Mother er not, ye're young yet," Rakka said. "Ye don't quite understand the way males are te each other. Competitive as a rule. Even between brothers." She paused. "Especially between brothers. Ye see it some with the twins, young's they are, and the other two're no exception. They're just older, 'n better at hidin' it."
"If that be the case," Akkhi started, hesitant. "Then why's all the fault fer Rakka'a? What about Rakka'to?"
Rakka was silent. She was so set in her ways that she didn't want to stop to consider her daughter's words. While she didn't hate any of her children, it was true that Rakka'a had the least of her favor because of that incident half a decade ago. Some rightly accused her of being too harsh - others of being too lenient. Rakka'a had paid the price he owed already, his punishment fulfilled, but Rakka's disapproval of him wasn't intended to punish. It was simply her natural inclination.
Rakka came from a long line of huntresses, and she was revered both for her own ability, and her bloodline, which was so blessed that it endowed her with the fortune of mothering many sons when sons normally accounted for one in every ten births or less. That one of her sons would so carelessly disregard the tribe's hunting laws made her look terrible. For a time there was talk, but that talk had quieted over the years. Nonetheless, it caused irreparable damage to the Kuhn reputation. Her hard-won prestige had suffered.
However, it was difficult to continue ignoring Rakka’a’s diligence. He had not, embittered by her forbidding him to hunt, run away into exile, and despite her harsh words about him, Rakka’a had taken to other tasks and trades with the same vigor that he’d taken to hunting. The huntress within her was angry still, but perhaps it was time to forgive.
Exasperated by the dragging silence, Akkhi sighed. She moved to her mother's side and opened her arms for the gurgling infant. When the squirming kitten was in Akkhi's arms, Rakka spoke.
"If it please ye, I'll talk te Rakka'a," she conceded. "But not until Rakka'to's returned."
Caught unawares, Akkhi smiled widely, exuberantly pleased. Her tail swished in rhythm with her rising spirits. At long last, her mother would finally give Rakka'a the time of day, and perhaps soon she'd find reason to forgive him. Akkhi was hopeful.
It was only the second night. Rakka'to decided that he would seize upon the opportunity to bring back his kill on the third night, and it would be a magnificent kill. In the meantime however, he had taken the opportunity to hunt and kill other game - game he was used to, game that sold nicely. With his bone whistle on hand he could call for the other poachers to take the kill. He'd have to give them a cut of the profits for taking care of the delivery end of the trade, but it didn't matter. It was still decent coin.
One of the things he certainly wanted for his tribe was an arsenal of crossbows. They were rare and forbidden in some parts of Eorzea, or so he'd been told, but they were wonderful. They took a bit too long to load, but the bolts sailed true and fast as lightning. He had one of his own which he kept hidden out in the woods. For his final kill he'd certainly use his traditional longbow, but for poaching he loved his crossbow. Hiding low in the brush, he'd followed a lone, somber looking sylph to a watering hole where it stopped to reflect upon something. The foolish little creature.
Sylphs were one of the more sought after kills, though they were difficult to find alone--and if they weren't alone all of their kind were like to retaliate. Some poachers thought killing Sylphs to be taboo or too risky, but the little leafy creatures made for wonderful ingredients in a wide array of medicines and culinary brews, and certain buyers would pay handsomely for them. They were a risky catch for certain, but in Rakka'to's mind, they were worth the risk.
He fired at the lone creature, crossbow making a short, sharp snapping sound, bolt singing through the air. It was too fast for the Sylph to turn completely to face the origin of the sound, so it landed squarely in its back, carrying the tiny thing forward and face-down in to the pond, lifeless. He reloaded his contraption, watching the Sylph for any movement as he did so. When it was loaded and ready, he smirked and stood, eyeing his prey. He pointed the crossbow at the creature as he slowly walked towards it, just in case it suddenly sprung in to action. When it didn't stir, he lowered his crossbow to his side and brought the bone whistle to his lips.
Before he could blow something caught his ear. He dropped the whistle and held his crossbow at the ready, baring his fangs. Whatever it was, it wasn't a dumb beast. Something – someone - was hiding. Another Sylph could flee to its village and rally its friends, or another person could alert his tribe and rat him out for what he'd done. He squinted at the area the rustle had come from, but it must have moved while his mind was racing near to a panic.
"Rakka'to," a familiar voice sounded.
Rakka'to whirled around to face the speaker, who now stood in the clearing. Scared half-to-death, he pointed the crossbow at his brother. "A-are ye insane? I nearly shot ye," Rakka'to complained at Rakka'a.
Rakka'a looked mournfully to the dead Sylph, then to his younger brother, face hardening to an unreadable mask. "What've ye done..."
Rakka'to remembered himself, pressing his lips together and looking to the Sylph. After a moment's hesitation, he spoke, "I know what ye're thinkin', but let me explain."
He paused, but Rakka'a didn't interject, so the younger brother continued.
"This little thing'll get us Gil. Lots of Gil. In fact, I've got impressive wealth stored away. We could make life so much better fer the tribe. Fer everyone. Ma 'n Akkhi 'n her kin. All the girls, 'n the twins too. Cabins instead'a huts. Weapons te protect ourselves..."
"Weapons like the thing in yer hand?" Rakka'a said blankly, expression impassive.
"Exactly!" Rakka'to said, brightening. He imagined Rakka'a was already starting to see things his way, and if that was the case, soon the whole tribe would understand.
"At what cost?" Rakka'a asked, frowning.
Rakka'to hedged, then looked slightly uncomfortable. "What d'ye mean?"
"Ye know why we don't poach. Ye understand the Wood 'as a delicate balance we 'ave to maintain," Rakka'a said sourly. "If ye disturb the balance, no weapons er cabins er anything's like to be enough te comfort us."
Rakka'to was silent. He certainly disagreed, but he didn't know how to articulate his argument, so he didn't even try.
"Rakka'to, I forfeit somethin' of my own five years back because I thought ye made a mistake. A mistake that weren't no thought o' yers te make. But now ye've wasted my sacrifice 'n become exactly what I ne'er believed ye'd become. A poacher. A thief. A criminal. A disgrace."
Rakka'to's brow twitched, and his eyes found his feet, smoldering with hurt and anger. He didn't understand at all. Rakka'to hated having his hopes lifted, then shot down and trampled again.
"Ye have te confess, Rakka'to. 'n I'd be grateful if ye came forward about what happened all that time ago," Rakka'a said, gentling his stern tone some. "They'll punish you, and that'll be that. I can teach ye te fish instead, and we'll set ye on the right path yet."
Rakka'to was still silent. After a long pause, he nodded, shuffling forward slowly. Rakka'a looked momentarily relieved. He raised his arm to touch Rakka'to's shoulder when he drew near, smiling sympathetically to his brother. His brother smiled back, weakly at first, but then something about his smile changed, it darkened. Then there was a sound, like a giant mousetrap, then a stake being driven in to the ground.
The brothers separated, and Rakka'a found himself unable to walk, unable to breathe, unable to speak. Pain roared through his chest, and his heart thumped rapidly in his ears. To a war-drum tune, he looked at his brother, half-lidded, wondering why. His brother stared back at him, grinning with terrified hysteria, eyeing the bolt that was half-buried in Rakka'a's chest. Finally, the reality of what had just happened sank in, just as the last of Rakka'a's strength, his life blood, spilled out. He fell to his knees. The shock, pain, and betrayal all left his eyes as he ragdolled at an awkward angle and hit the ground. He was dead before the soil touched his cheek.
Rakka'to's voice was high with the hysteria that was written all over his face. "You can't tell them. You can't tell anyone. I didn't do anything wrong!"
He waited for Rakka'a to respond, panting - hyperventilating in fact.
"It's not my fault!" he screamed, voice hoarse and ragged. It startled birds from their nests high in the treetops.
He lifted the bone whistle to his quivering lips, and blew.
It was on the third night that a ragged Rakka'to returned to the tribesground. He didn't have to feign his exhaustion, but as far as anyone in the tribe could tell he was beaten from the hunt, not from the reality of killing his brother. After he'd ended Rakka'a's life, he had called upon his poacher friends and stolen back to the tribesground hidden under a heavy brown cloak. People certainly saw him, but they didn't speak to him. Rakka'to wouldn't have been back in the village, so clearly it had been Rakka'a who ducked in to their shared hut, gathered all of Rakka'a's treasured belongings, and departed. The few who caught sight of him would have seen Rakka'a leave the tribesground, and nothing more.
So when he returned and everyone had gathered but Rakka'a, he made something of a show of searching for him. Akkhi greeted Rakka'to with a wavering smile, looking from the spoils of the hunt, to him. He knew what she was going to say.
“Akkhi, ye seen Rakka’a? I mean te talk.â€
II. The Quarrel in the Wood
Thin, sparse whiskers of blue upon Rakka’to’s chin was evidence of the steady maturing of the once fearful little boy who hid behind his older brother's shoulder in the Wood so many years ago. Rakka'to Kuhn sat, back straight, shoulders squared and kneeling, exuding the once proud yet disciplined aura his sibling often had emanated before him. Directly across from him sat his mother, mirroring his stance. They were alone together in a clearing, rare in the ordinarily thick Wood. Bathing in the pale glow of the moon and stars overhead Rakka's shoulders relaxed and an easy expression crossed her otherwise normally placid features, they had just concluded a purposeful conversation.
"I am relieved ye came te be the hunter ye are," she said in a tone just above a whisper, her normally strong voice carrying a hint of tenderness. The teenaged Rakka'to betrayed a wisp of a smile, and his mother continued, "After yer brother committed a foul, I thought again on teachin' my sons the art. I thought I might be conditionin' a natural strand o' poachers rather than independent men who can fend fer themselves. That all four of my boys would forever remain in the men's huts at the tribesground, and never set out on their own. But it seems that fate is only for Rakka'a. Time will tell with the twins."
Rakka'to maintained his attentive posture, but could not wholly conceal the small smirk tugging at his lips. He was proud, and as far as his mother was concerned, he had every right to be. With a formal dip of his head, he spoke in a solemn tone, mimicking the tone his elder brother often assumed when he was still recognized as a hunter, "Ye speak me undue praise, mother."
His mother smiled a rare, warm smile, then climbed to her feet. She held her hand out to him and spoke. "Yer small brothers owe ye a kindness. It's for you that I teach them at all. Perhaps once ye've completed yer trial, you might consider helpin' Rakka'li some te hold his bow right."
'To chuckled as he took her hand, allowing the huntress to pull him to his feet. "I'd entrust that te Akkhi. I haven't proven my worth yet, and there's no tellin' if'n I'll come back successful from the provin' grounds."
Soon it would be time for Rakka'to to prove his worth and gain formal recognition from the tribe as a huntsman, earning the right to hunt alone if he so chose. This was an almost necessary tradition for the few males of their tribe, as most of them would leave before they were twenty to live in seclusion. Those who couldn't fend for themselves or who were deemed unfit to embark from the tribe would remain until old age took them, and they would often never have any part in mating.
Rakka'to was, in actuality, an alarmingly good hunter. His brother had talent when he was a hunter, but Rakka'to was now almost as old as his elder brother had been on that fateful day when Rakka'a lost his hunting privileges, and he was twice the huntsman - only no one knew it. He spent much of his solitary time in the wood, getting real hands-on experience with beasts far mightier than the simple antelope doe. The trial would be all too easy, but admitting that would bring his mother's eye down upon him, as well as the rest of the tribe's. There were things he wasn't quite prepared to reveal about his hunting habits, not yet.
"Well, ye'll need plenty o' rest," Rakka said, directing her gaze upward. The sky was beginning to purple with the first hints of the morning sun. "Ye start first thing in the evening," she reminded him. The Keepers were nocturnal, so it stood to reason that sleep came during the brightest parts of the day.
Rakka'to bowed to his mother and stood. "I won't disappoint you," he said, evoking a good humored scoff from Rakka. With that, he turned towards the distant tribesground and departed from the clearing, in to the woods.
________________
The tribesground was built in a densely wooded area. The center of the village was made up of clusters of huts, twisting around the chaotic scattering of thick-trunked trees that stretched forever in to the sky. The huts were typically constructed with wood, clay, and hay, and decorated with luminescent paint that seemed to catch the moonlight even far below the canopy. The dwellings that belonged to the more influential members of the tribe were closest to the communal area where the chieftainness would convene with the tribe when necessary. The clearing was patchy as far as grass growth was concerned, trampled so thoroughly by foot traffic that bald earth dominated the area. The clearing was also the place where, four years ago, Rakka'a had been stripped of his title as a hunter and forbidden from teaching his younger brother the art. It felt to Rakka'to as though it was an eternity ago. To Rakka'a, it felt like it had happened only yesterday.
Further on the outskirts of the tribesground was a pond lined with tall weeds and tangled shrubbery. The greenery not only obscured the pond from view of the central tribesground, but the few huts that belonged to the men of the tribe. Grown men did not reside with women, and in this particular Keeper tribe, a male came of age on his fourteenth nameday. By twenty, most men would set out to live alone in the woods, but some would remain. Rakka'to was only recently dubbed a man himself, and he had just begun to live with his now nineteen year old brother. The space they shared was small, but in truth, no man in the tribe had any trouble sharing space with kin and close friends. Rakka'a and Rakka'to, in fact, like many other males in the tribe, slept side by side on the same straw mat. There were nine adult males in their tribe - the most the tribe had ever seen. That was nearly one adult male to every four adult females.
Despite harboring the secret that Rakka’a had taken responsibility for Rakka’to’s wrong doing, the brothers were close. Rakka’a had selflessly accepted the revocation of his role as hunter and teacher and had taken to fishing, gathering, and whatever crafts or hobbies interested him, while Rakka’to became a fine hunter.
Entering their shared living space, Rakka'to noted Rakka'a's presence, the older male sat cross-legged on the ground of their hut, busying himself by creating jewelry from hempen string, agates, fangs, and bone chips. He paused briefly and looked up from his work to smile at his brother. Rakka'to reflected the smile.
"Tomorrah's the big night," Rakka'a commented. "Hope yer more successful than ye been on some o' yer practice runs."
When he was included in tribal hunting excursions, Rakka'to often feigned an unsteady elbow or a nervous blink at the wrong time, so that he would return home without a kill. He'd put an arrow in a tree when he could have put it in the eye of a skittering critter. He'd fire at a rock instead of directly in to the throat of a fearsome predator, allowing his "experienced" hunting band to take care of the threat. The boy had more talent than he felt safe to share - or rather, more practice. At his age, he had hunted alone in secret far more times than Rakka'a had hunted alone. Solitary hunting, before formal recognition as a hunter, was against the tribe's rules.
It began a year ago, when he first stole away unbeknownst to the tribe in the middle of daylight intending to privately refine his skill on live game. He had ventured far, and had encountered a band of Keeper huntswomen. They were hostile to him at first, but they relented when he showed potential. They were not a tribe, they were in fact poachers by profession, and they took the spoils of their hunt to fences in the Twelveswood, selling them for Gil. While Rakka'to's tribe had never had much use for Gil, the poachers showed him what good money could provide and how quickly he could make it by taking down forbidden game. He was shown things that had him considering how he could vastly improve the way his tribe lived: better materials for their shelters, better utensils for cooking, better weapons for hunting and self-defense, medicines for all manner of illnesses. So many treasures and luxuries, it made his head spin.
Following that, every week he would sneak out once or twice to hunt with or for the poachers. Hidden in the woods, he stashed his rapidly accumulating stockpile of Gil. He became a sharp shot, and a superb tracker, all from poaching. His mother would have beaten and disowned him in a heartbeat if she knew. He pledged he would one day reveal what he had been doing, but not until he had the gifts he'd intended for the tribe to demonstrate its necessity.
Rakka'to showed his brother a stiff smile before retorting, "I'm not that bad a shot."
"Yeah, ye just think rocks look 'n awful lot like critters," the older Keeper said with a teasing scoff.
Rakka'to didn't seem to find this funny. "Maybe I shot th' rock b'cause I didn't want te show off."
"Right, sure, and I'm the chieftainness of th' North tribe" Rakka'a replied, disbelieving as he focused on threading a leather cord through the steel cap that had been grafted around the base of an animal's fang.
Normally, teasing didn't get a rise out of Rakka'to. Maybe it was his nerves. Even if he was confident in his abilities, tomorrow would be a very big day for him, and he really was desperate to prove himself to his mother, as well as the rest of the tribe. He'd intentionally sold himself short... but maybe too short, and in so doing his tribe's confidence in him wasn't as high as he'd have liked. His brother's confidence in him was insultingly low. In the dizzying height of his sudden anger, he blurted. "I've killed far more prey than ye ever 'ave."
Rakka'a looked up from his work, looking momentarily wounded. Rakka'a hadn't hunted in half a decade, and he long ago lost hope he’d ever be permitted to hunt again, unless he went into exile. He was quick to collect himself though, giving his younger brother a flat look, "Yer fourteen. What are ye at now, six kills in a group hunt that're yers undisputed? ‘Round my fifteenth nameday I was up te twenty-five, not countin' the group hunts."
"Oh I've far more kills 'n ye know," Rakka'to replied hotly.
"That so?" Rakka'a replied, folding his arms. "And when did ye get them, then?"
Rakka'to grimaced and looked away with a mixture of guilt and displeasure on his face. "I don't need to explain myself te ye. Ye'r no hunter."
The elder sibling was a little surprised. He had assumed they were just joking around, taking jabs at one another, but the serious, guilty look on Rakka'to's face had him rethinking that assessment. Rakka'to wasn't allowed to hunt alone yet, so there was no way he could have gotten more kills than the bands he'd hunted with attributed to him. Instead of saying anything about it, Rakka'a shrugged a shoulder and looked away, busying himself with his necklace.
Rakka'to glowered. "Nothin' te say te me?"
"No," Rakka'a replied simply. His tone had gone serious as well, but he forced a smile, wanting to believe they were still just joking around.
"You know I'm twice the hunter you were," Rakka'to spat, still angry.
"I know," his brother replied, still not rising to the challenge.
Silenced, 'To moved across their hut and snatched his satchel, then marched toward the exit.
The older sibling spoke up. "Where are ye goin' this time o' the mornin'?"
"Shooting practice," Rakka'to said with sharp sarcasm. As he turned quickly, poking his arm out to part the curtain that sheltered the hut's entrance from the weather, he fumbled with his satchel and dropped it. It hit the ground heavily, spilling a myriad of items. Dried provisions for a hunt were among them, as well as arrowheads that had been protectively wrapped in cloth in the event a quiver broke.
It was nothing out of the ordinary, but Rakka'to was quick to get to his knees and start hastily gathering up what had spilled. That was when Rakka'a noticed the bone whistle. 'To shot him a defensive glance, and his brother feigned interest in the necklace in his lap, as though he'd never set eyes on the whistle. He'd heard bone whistles when he was younger, and his mother had told him that was how poachers communicated. The Gridanian forces weren't privy to the practice, but Keeper tribes most certainly were.
Rakka'to left then, looking sullen. Some of the men who were still awake gave him strange or worried looks, but he ignored them as he headed to the range where the huntresses often practiced their aim.
The next evening the tribesground was bustling, all of the tribe going about their business as usual. Akkhi, the eldest of the huntress and warrior Rakka's children, walked past a breakfast fire with a squirming infant in her arms. There she found her mother, sitting to enjoy her meal. Beside her were two identical little boys, no more than eight years old, making faces at each other when they thought mother wasn’t looking. Both became quietly obedient when their big sister shot them a look.
Rakka looked up to her daughter, then rose to her feet, crossing to take the infant from her gently. Akkhi smiled. "She misses 'er grandma."
"Stop that. Ye'll make me feel old," Rakka replied, humorlessly. "The boys were goin' te play with their friends at the Eastern edge."
"Trade ye," Akkhi said, grinning. When Rakka nodded, her daughter beckoned the boys to her, and they both climbed to their feet, racing to Akkhi. She placed her hands atop their heads, peering down at them. They were tall for their age, but Akkhi was twelve years their senior, and they were far from adulthood. "What're ye goin' te play?"
One of the boys shrugged. "Figurin' we'll decide that when we get there." The other twin nodded in agreement, as the first continued. "Mayhap we'll play keep-up or hide-and-hunt. But some of the girls're little 'n can't run as fast as us."
"Oh? Aren't ye confident? They might also be lighter on their feet th'n ye. Did ye consider that?" Akkhi replied.
The boy looked away, thoughtful, while his brother stared up at Akkhi, tail flicking anxiously. "Li's gonna show us a big tree," Sae chirped.
"That so?" Akkhi replied, grinning down at him.
He nodded, looking between Li and his sister. "He says it's bigger 'n the one 'To saw on his autumn hunting trip, 'n that if'n ye try te shoot a arrow at it, ye couldn't hit the tip top. Even ma probably couldn't, he says."
Akkhi nodded, turning the boys towards the tribesground's limits, where a few other children had already gathered. ""It ain't too far away, right?"
Li shook his head up at her. "It's ‘afore the river, right at the edge. I'm gonna climb it."
"No yer not," Akkhi said firmly.
"I'm gonna climb it," Sae echoed.
The older sister sighed. "No, yer not either."
"Fine..." the twins conceded, pouting simultaneously. They gave each other looks that clearly said they were far from actually yielding to her command. Akkhi paid it no mind.
"Be careful ye don't startle any hunters either," she warned.
"Is Rakka'to hunting in the East wood?" Li asked.
Akkhi shook her head. "No, he's down south far's I been told. Still, he ain't the only hunter in the wood, I'm sure."
"When he comes back," Sae started. "D'ye think him 'n Rakka'a 'll make up?"
"Pakoh'a said he heard 'em fightin' last eve," Li explained.
"Everyone's heard that by now. I'm sure they will," Akkhi reassured them. She gently nudged them forward when they came to stand at the edge of the tribesground, four young girls awaiting them. "Now go play, and don't get ye in te any trouble, hear?"
The twins nodded and darted off, meeting their friends and beginning their departure in to the woods. Akkhi let out an exasperated sigh and turned back to her mother, whose attention seemed to be wholly on the infant girl in her arms. She watched them silently until her mother spoke.
"Rakka'a is jealous this day," she said simply. "So he took it out on 'is brother. Selfish."
Akkhi nodded slowly, looking aimlessly off towards the male’s huts. "Why don't ye talk t'im, mother?"
"I've nothin' te say te 'im," Rakka said coolly.
Her eldest daughter pressed her lips together. No one liked to challenge Rakka, but Akkhi was quite close to Rakka’a, and she found it rather out of character for him to be angry with Rakka'to for pursuing recognition as a hunter. If anything, Rakka'a was happy for his brother, and worried - but not jealous. "Rakka'a's not the type te, well..."
"Mother er not, ye're young yet," Rakka said. "Ye don't quite understand the way males are te each other. Competitive as a rule. Even between brothers." She paused. "Especially between brothers. Ye see it some with the twins, young's they are, and the other two're no exception. They're just older, 'n better at hidin' it."
"If that be the case," Akkhi started, hesitant. "Then why's all the fault fer Rakka'a? What about Rakka'to?"
Rakka was silent. She was so set in her ways that she didn't want to stop to consider her daughter's words. While she didn't hate any of her children, it was true that Rakka'a had the least of her favor because of that incident half a decade ago. Some rightly accused her of being too harsh - others of being too lenient. Rakka'a had paid the price he owed already, his punishment fulfilled, but Rakka's disapproval of him wasn't intended to punish. It was simply her natural inclination.
Rakka came from a long line of huntresses, and she was revered both for her own ability, and her bloodline, which was so blessed that it endowed her with the fortune of mothering many sons when sons normally accounted for one in every ten births or less. That one of her sons would so carelessly disregard the tribe's hunting laws made her look terrible. For a time there was talk, but that talk had quieted over the years. Nonetheless, it caused irreparable damage to the Kuhn reputation. Her hard-won prestige had suffered.
However, it was difficult to continue ignoring Rakka’a’s diligence. He had not, embittered by her forbidding him to hunt, run away into exile, and despite her harsh words about him, Rakka’a had taken to other tasks and trades with the same vigor that he’d taken to hunting. The huntress within her was angry still, but perhaps it was time to forgive.
Exasperated by the dragging silence, Akkhi sighed. She moved to her mother's side and opened her arms for the gurgling infant. When the squirming kitten was in Akkhi's arms, Rakka spoke.
"If it please ye, I'll talk te Rakka'a," she conceded. "But not until Rakka'to's returned."
Caught unawares, Akkhi smiled widely, exuberantly pleased. Her tail swished in rhythm with her rising spirits. At long last, her mother would finally give Rakka'a the time of day, and perhaps soon she'd find reason to forgive him. Akkhi was hopeful.
________________
It was only the second night. Rakka'to decided that he would seize upon the opportunity to bring back his kill on the third night, and it would be a magnificent kill. In the meantime however, he had taken the opportunity to hunt and kill other game - game he was used to, game that sold nicely. With his bone whistle on hand he could call for the other poachers to take the kill. He'd have to give them a cut of the profits for taking care of the delivery end of the trade, but it didn't matter. It was still decent coin.
One of the things he certainly wanted for his tribe was an arsenal of crossbows. They were rare and forbidden in some parts of Eorzea, or so he'd been told, but they were wonderful. They took a bit too long to load, but the bolts sailed true and fast as lightning. He had one of his own which he kept hidden out in the woods. For his final kill he'd certainly use his traditional longbow, but for poaching he loved his crossbow. Hiding low in the brush, he'd followed a lone, somber looking sylph to a watering hole where it stopped to reflect upon something. The foolish little creature.
Sylphs were one of the more sought after kills, though they were difficult to find alone--and if they weren't alone all of their kind were like to retaliate. Some poachers thought killing Sylphs to be taboo or too risky, but the little leafy creatures made for wonderful ingredients in a wide array of medicines and culinary brews, and certain buyers would pay handsomely for them. They were a risky catch for certain, but in Rakka'to's mind, they were worth the risk.
He fired at the lone creature, crossbow making a short, sharp snapping sound, bolt singing through the air. It was too fast for the Sylph to turn completely to face the origin of the sound, so it landed squarely in its back, carrying the tiny thing forward and face-down in to the pond, lifeless. He reloaded his contraption, watching the Sylph for any movement as he did so. When it was loaded and ready, he smirked and stood, eyeing his prey. He pointed the crossbow at the creature as he slowly walked towards it, just in case it suddenly sprung in to action. When it didn't stir, he lowered his crossbow to his side and brought the bone whistle to his lips.
Before he could blow something caught his ear. He dropped the whistle and held his crossbow at the ready, baring his fangs. Whatever it was, it wasn't a dumb beast. Something – someone - was hiding. Another Sylph could flee to its village and rally its friends, or another person could alert his tribe and rat him out for what he'd done. He squinted at the area the rustle had come from, but it must have moved while his mind was racing near to a panic.
"Rakka'to," a familiar voice sounded.
Rakka'to whirled around to face the speaker, who now stood in the clearing. Scared half-to-death, he pointed the crossbow at his brother. "A-are ye insane? I nearly shot ye," Rakka'to complained at Rakka'a.
Rakka'a looked mournfully to the dead Sylph, then to his younger brother, face hardening to an unreadable mask. "What've ye done..."
Rakka'to remembered himself, pressing his lips together and looking to the Sylph. After a moment's hesitation, he spoke, "I know what ye're thinkin', but let me explain."
He paused, but Rakka'a didn't interject, so the younger brother continued.
"This little thing'll get us Gil. Lots of Gil. In fact, I've got impressive wealth stored away. We could make life so much better fer the tribe. Fer everyone. Ma 'n Akkhi 'n her kin. All the girls, 'n the twins too. Cabins instead'a huts. Weapons te protect ourselves..."
"Weapons like the thing in yer hand?" Rakka'a said blankly, expression impassive.
"Exactly!" Rakka'to said, brightening. He imagined Rakka'a was already starting to see things his way, and if that was the case, soon the whole tribe would understand.
"At what cost?" Rakka'a asked, frowning.
Rakka'to hedged, then looked slightly uncomfortable. "What d'ye mean?"
"Ye know why we don't poach. Ye understand the Wood 'as a delicate balance we 'ave to maintain," Rakka'a said sourly. "If ye disturb the balance, no weapons er cabins er anything's like to be enough te comfort us."
Rakka'to was silent. He certainly disagreed, but he didn't know how to articulate his argument, so he didn't even try.
"Rakka'to, I forfeit somethin' of my own five years back because I thought ye made a mistake. A mistake that weren't no thought o' yers te make. But now ye've wasted my sacrifice 'n become exactly what I ne'er believed ye'd become. A poacher. A thief. A criminal. A disgrace."
Rakka'to's brow twitched, and his eyes found his feet, smoldering with hurt and anger. He didn't understand at all. Rakka'to hated having his hopes lifted, then shot down and trampled again.
"Ye have te confess, Rakka'to. 'n I'd be grateful if ye came forward about what happened all that time ago," Rakka'a said, gentling his stern tone some. "They'll punish you, and that'll be that. I can teach ye te fish instead, and we'll set ye on the right path yet."
Rakka'to was still silent. After a long pause, he nodded, shuffling forward slowly. Rakka'a looked momentarily relieved. He raised his arm to touch Rakka'to's shoulder when he drew near, smiling sympathetically to his brother. His brother smiled back, weakly at first, but then something about his smile changed, it darkened. Then there was a sound, like a giant mousetrap, then a stake being driven in to the ground.
The brothers separated, and Rakka'a found himself unable to walk, unable to breathe, unable to speak. Pain roared through his chest, and his heart thumped rapidly in his ears. To a war-drum tune, he looked at his brother, half-lidded, wondering why. His brother stared back at him, grinning with terrified hysteria, eyeing the bolt that was half-buried in Rakka'a's chest. Finally, the reality of what had just happened sank in, just as the last of Rakka'a's strength, his life blood, spilled out. He fell to his knees. The shock, pain, and betrayal all left his eyes as he ragdolled at an awkward angle and hit the ground. He was dead before the soil touched his cheek.
Rakka'to's voice was high with the hysteria that was written all over his face. "You can't tell them. You can't tell anyone. I didn't do anything wrong!"
He waited for Rakka'a to respond, panting - hyperventilating in fact.
"It's not my fault!" he screamed, voice hoarse and ragged. It startled birds from their nests high in the treetops.
He lifted the bone whistle to his quivering lips, and blew.
________________
It was on the third night that a ragged Rakka'to returned to the tribesground. He didn't have to feign his exhaustion, but as far as anyone in the tribe could tell he was beaten from the hunt, not from the reality of killing his brother. After he'd ended Rakka'a's life, he had called upon his poacher friends and stolen back to the tribesground hidden under a heavy brown cloak. People certainly saw him, but they didn't speak to him. Rakka'to wouldn't have been back in the village, so clearly it had been Rakka'a who ducked in to their shared hut, gathered all of Rakka'a's treasured belongings, and departed. The few who caught sight of him would have seen Rakka'a leave the tribesground, and nothing more.
So when he returned and everyone had gathered but Rakka'a, he made something of a show of searching for him. Akkhi greeted Rakka'to with a wavering smile, looking from the spoils of the hunt, to him. He knew what she was going to say.
“Akkhi, ye seen Rakka’a? I mean te talk.â€
