The First Two
I. The Arrow in the Buck
    The beast lay on the forest floor, writhing helplessly as blood poured from an arrow wound, breath labored. It was a young buck, its fledgling antlers barely twigs upon its brow. Its dark eyes were wide, unfocused, fearful, and tired, both fighting and accepting death in its own primitive way.
    The Miqo'te huntress approached it, long braid touching the ground when she knelt beside the poor beast. She placed her hand upon its snout, bowing her head in respect. The creature huffed, eyes closing half-way, relaxing under the calming touch of the huntress that seemed to radiate with finality. When she was certain it was in a more peaceful state, her blade flashed across its throat. It was quick, clean, and precise. The young beast would no longer suffer.
    She slowly rose, not turning towards the two grey-skinned Keeper boys standing at some length behind her.
    "My conjury could do nothing fer the beast. Its death--yer carelessness--upset the natural balance," she said evenly, turning her head to the side as she spoke with no hint of emotion in her flat, listless voice. In the pale moonlight, it would have been apparent even to other races beyond just the Keepers of the Moon that her expression was as stoney as her tone of voice.
    After a lingering silence, she turned fully to the boys, approaching them in a graceful stride. Before the elder of the two, she halted. He couldn't have been more than fifteen. The boy beside him was two thirds his age and trembling, eyes stuck to the ground rather than chancing to look his mother in the eye, where his brother bravely maintained his. The older boy held a bow in his hand, and his quiver lay on the ground with only one arrow left. The younger was unarmed.
    There was another tense silence as the huntress, Rakka, stared coolly down at the brave bowman. Without a word, she struck him hard across the cheek, causing him to stumble back. The boy held his burning cheek, while his little brother choked back a startled sob.
    "I am ashamed that ye bear my name, this day," the woman said, icily. "I taught ye better 'n this."
    He lowered his hand and bowed his head. "I will repent, mother," he said solemnly.
    Rakka looked him over again, still cool. "Ye can try," she replied after another lasting pause, before turning to the younger boy. "Rakka'to. To me."
    Without a second thought, the ten year old boy, Rakka'to, moved to his mother's side, still unable to look at her, much less his older brother. He was still trembling, terrified.
    She touched Rakka'to's shoulder, turning him in the direction of the tribesground. She turned her back on the older boy, speaking lowly. "Come. It's time te answer fer what ye've done, Rakka'a."
    Rakka'a bowed his head, following his mother and brother at a respectable distance. Rakka'to cast a worried glance over his shoulder to his sibling, heart hammering at his chest, for he was distraught. It was his guilt that was eating away at him, and making his chest ache. He knew what punishment his brother would endure, and he knew that Rakka'a was innocent. The trouble was, Rakka'to himself was not, and he was a coward where his brother was brave enough to claim fault to spare him the whip.
    In its own way, their arrival back on the tribesground was symbolic. Seeing Rakka'to at Rakka's side, and Rakka'a following obediently, the tribe could discern immediately that the older boy was in trouble, and the younger was under the protection of his mother. Her presence alone often drew the attention of the other tribeswomen. While she wasn't the chieftainess, she was arguably one of the best hunters in the wood, and she had gained her prestige at a relatively young age. She was still relatively young, having bore her first son when she was scarcely seventeen--and he had not been her first child.
    The first person to approach was a teenaged girl--Rakka's firstborn daughter. She looked to Rakka'a, who still maintained a proud dignity, then to Rakka'to who was yet meek as a mouse, and finally to her mother. "What happened?"
    Rakka didn't answer, instead turning her head towards Rakka'a, not deigning to actually look at him. Though she seemed calm and stoic as ever, her eldest daughter knew better than to assume she was feeling at all even remotely calm. There were little signs in her mother's body language that told the girl that she was quite livid. The young girl's gaze slid to meet her brother's brave stare.
    "I poached," he said in a tone not unlike his mother's that conveyed no emotion.
    The girl blanched. "On purpose?"
    "No," he answered simply.
    She looked relieved for a moment, but her mother's lips thinned ever so slightly.
    "Carelessness," Rakka began, "is no excuse." She touched Rakka'to's shoulder again, urging him toward his older sister. "Where're the boys, Akkhi?"
    "Sleepin', I think," Akkhi replied, taking Rakka'to's hand when he joined her.
    "In the middle of the night?" Rakka questioned. "Wake 'em, or they'll be wide awake well past the risin' of the sun. When they awake, I want 'em te see our clan's justice done."
    Akkhi blanched again, but didn't argue. She gave Rakka'a a pitiable look, before tugging on Rakka'to's hand and dragging him off. Rakka advanced further in to the settlement, speaking in a low, formal tone with other huntresses, and eventually the chieftainess.
    Within moments, the tribe was abuzz with the news of the boy's fault, and they began to prepare for ritual punishment. Preparations took nearly an hour. The participants adorned their paint and jewelry, and stripped Rakka'a of his shirt, binding his hands and forcing him to kneel after he too had been painted. All the while, he maintained his courageous demeanor. He did not challenge the tribe or its justice, neither did he simper and plead. He simply kept his dignity, even as he was forced to kneel at the center of a gathered ring of his tribespeople.
    Akkhi was within his line of sight, along with the still terribly guilty-looking Rakka'to, and joined by two sleepy, identical, four-year-old boys who shared the Kuhn clan's coloration. The two younglings were the last of Rakka's children born. Everyone had fallen silent, knowing what was to follow, but the two little boys seemed confused.
    "What's wong wif Ah-Ah?" "Why's Ah-Ah dewe?" they both whined, only to be sharply hushed by Akkhi and Rakka'to.
    They were surrounded by their own Kuhn kinsmen, most of Rakka's daughters sitting in front of their mother as she looked on upon her soon-to-be-punished son with a stony gaze.
    Behind the kneeling and top-bare Rakka'a, stood the chieftainess wearing a fearsome wooden mask adorned with feathers and paint. It was carved in the likeness of a predator cat, jaw open and snarling, with terrible fangs. In her right hand rested a short brown whip of leather. Her voice was muffled by the mask, but resonated with her power and influence.
    "Rakka'a Kuhn," she pronounced carefully. "Ye're accused of poaching a young buck. What plead ye?"
    "Guilty," he replied simply, voice strong enough to be heard by all of those gathered. There were hushed murmurs and gasps, largely of disapproval.
    "So be it," said the chieftainess. "First, I sentence ye te five lashes." Her hand raised, displaying the whip for all to see. It wasn't long, so it wouldn't do any real lasting damage, but it was a firm whip, and was sure to sting and leave the skin red.
    She didn't prolong the punishment unnecessarily. All five lashes happened in quick succession. A's fearless demeanor broke with the first lashing, and he cried out for the first three, voice breaking, clenching his teeth hard for the last two. The whipping couldn't have lasted more than ten seconds, but in that time, Rakka'a heard the wailing of his two youngest brothers, joined by his younger sister, who was barely a year older than the twins.
    He trembled with pain by the time the whipping was finished, back red and lightly bleeding. With effort, he straightened his back and looked upon his family, trying to regain his dignity, piece by piece.
    "Second, I revoke yer hunting rights until yer sixteenth cycle," boomed the chieftainess.
    Rakka'a was an astounding hunter. He'd been mentored by the best--his mother. Hunting was his life. Though he would turn sixteen in just under half of a year, he was clearly devastated by that ruling. He half expected it, but had been holding out hope that he would be forgiven for what he claimed was his first accidental transgression. Of course, he wouldn't tell the truth--that it had been Rakka'to who knowingly shot the buck, rather than Rakka'a having accidentally shot it. He was entirely too skilled to make such a mistake, but he was young. It was a believable lie.
    "Third, I revoke yer role as a mentor, permanently," said the chieftainess.
    That, he clearly had not expected, eyes going wide. He looked to Rakka'to in disbelief, and Rakka'to began to weep. Rakka'a had been mentoring his younger brother when the buck died. It was foolish to give the younger boy his bow and quiver, but Rakka'a himself had been even younger than his ten year old brother when he'd shot his first arrow at a live animal. He didn't expect him not to listen when he warned him not to shoot the buck. Now he'd lost the chance to instruct him in the future, and get him back on the right track. Forever.
    Though he felt some resentment at his circumstances, he loved Rakka'to dearly. He lost his rights to train him, but at least Rakka'to hadn't suffered the consequences. He would have suffered just as many lashes and likely been barred from hunting until he was at least thirteen. Rakka'a hung his head, tired and downtrodden. At the very least, his sacrifice was worthwhile. He could be proud of that when he rose the next evening and watched his hunting party depart without him.
    The chieftainess pulled him to his feet, startling him out of his maudlin stupor. Her grip was both firm and gentle. He knew that she didn't mean him any harm, but the tribe's justice had to be done. He turned and bowed formally to her.
    "It is done," she said to him. "Go pray and bathe, brother."
    He bowed again, then made his way to the Kuhns. His mother turned away, still livid, and left.
    "The buck's death won't be in vain. They're skinning it now." Akkhi smiled up at him kindly, sympathetic. One of the young twins was in her arms, still recovering from his wailing, and the other was just fine, playing skip-o'er-the-tail behind her. Their five year old sister was sitting obediently by Akkhi's side. "She'll recover. She just needs time."
    "I know it," Rakka'a said. He was never much to speak overmuch, but Akkhi seemed to understand more than he let on.
    "After ye bathe, come te me and let me look at yer back. Can't have cuts and bruises slowin' ye down with yer activities with Kyara Ora."
    He flushed, only knocked out of his embarrassment when the twin that had been in Akkhi's lap came to cling on to Rakka'a's leg. He smiled and reached down to muss the kitten's hair. "Didn't think ye knew about that," he said to Akkhi.
    Akkhi laughed. "She's a talkative one, that."
    "Right talkative in bed, te," he commended, grinning slightly.
    "Now look who's - YEOW!" She coiled, whirling to face the little boy who had just lost his game of skip-o'er-the-tail, having landed right on it. She picked him up, much to his dislike. The little girl, still ever present by her eldest sister's side, set to petting the tail her little brother had so rudely jumped on, and Akkhi sighed.
    "Ye'll make a fine mother someday," Rakka'a said.
    Akkhi shrugged a shoulder. "And ye'll make a fine uncle, soon enough. I just hope I'm not as 'blessed' as mother was with your like. Little monsters, you boys are," she said, half to Rakka'a, and half to the boy she was now dangling by his shoulders in front of her. "Which one are ye?"
    "Sae," said the guilty little boy.
    "Nooo," the other one cried in reply, looking back to the troublesome twin, then up at Rakka'a, sparing the effort to let out a forced, soft sob. His distressed expression was urging him to intervene, but the teenaged Keeper boy only showed him a helpless shrug.
    Akkhi looked from the one in her arms, to the one wrapped around Rakka'a's leg. She smirked, turning her attention back to the boy she was holding, giving him a shake. "Don't you lie, little Li."
    Rakka'li bubbled with laughter, his trick exposed. He kicked his feet until Akkhi put him down.
    Rakka'a gently pulled the other boy off of him, lifting him and setting him down next to their toddler sister, Hanah Kuhn. Face not betraying how badly the motion he'd just gone through stung his back, he stood tall. "I should get," he said blandly.
    "Don't forget to pray," Akkhi said.
    Rakka'a nodded, reaching down to tweak Rakka'li's ear to distract him from whatever mischief he was planning for Rakka'sae and Hanah. The distraction seemed to work as 'Li ducked and swatted at his hand. The teenager laughed and captured the little boy's wrist, lifting him off the ground and dumping him in Akkhi's lap, who promptly wrapped her arms around him to keep him still.
    "Keep ye," he said in a casual departing greeting, starting off for the springs--a good bath and a good pray.
I. The Arrow in the Buck
    The beast lay on the forest floor, writhing helplessly as blood poured from an arrow wound, breath labored. It was a young buck, its fledgling antlers barely twigs upon its brow. Its dark eyes were wide, unfocused, fearful, and tired, both fighting and accepting death in its own primitive way.
    The Miqo'te huntress approached it, long braid touching the ground when she knelt beside the poor beast. She placed her hand upon its snout, bowing her head in respect. The creature huffed, eyes closing half-way, relaxing under the calming touch of the huntress that seemed to radiate with finality. When she was certain it was in a more peaceful state, her blade flashed across its throat. It was quick, clean, and precise. The young beast would no longer suffer.
    She slowly rose, not turning towards the two grey-skinned Keeper boys standing at some length behind her.
    "My conjury could do nothing fer the beast. Its death--yer carelessness--upset the natural balance," she said evenly, turning her head to the side as she spoke with no hint of emotion in her flat, listless voice. In the pale moonlight, it would have been apparent even to other races beyond just the Keepers of the Moon that her expression was as stoney as her tone of voice.
    After a lingering silence, she turned fully to the boys, approaching them in a graceful stride. Before the elder of the two, she halted. He couldn't have been more than fifteen. The boy beside him was two thirds his age and trembling, eyes stuck to the ground rather than chancing to look his mother in the eye, where his brother bravely maintained his. The older boy held a bow in his hand, and his quiver lay on the ground with only one arrow left. The younger was unarmed.
    There was another tense silence as the huntress, Rakka, stared coolly down at the brave bowman. Without a word, she struck him hard across the cheek, causing him to stumble back. The boy held his burning cheek, while his little brother choked back a startled sob.
    "I am ashamed that ye bear my name, this day," the woman said, icily. "I taught ye better 'n this."
    He lowered his hand and bowed his head. "I will repent, mother," he said solemnly.
    Rakka looked him over again, still cool. "Ye can try," she replied after another lasting pause, before turning to the younger boy. "Rakka'to. To me."
    Without a second thought, the ten year old boy, Rakka'to, moved to his mother's side, still unable to look at her, much less his older brother. He was still trembling, terrified.
    She touched Rakka'to's shoulder, turning him in the direction of the tribesground. She turned her back on the older boy, speaking lowly. "Come. It's time te answer fer what ye've done, Rakka'a."
    Rakka'a bowed his head, following his mother and brother at a respectable distance. Rakka'to cast a worried glance over his shoulder to his sibling, heart hammering at his chest, for he was distraught. It was his guilt that was eating away at him, and making his chest ache. He knew what punishment his brother would endure, and he knew that Rakka'a was innocent. The trouble was, Rakka'to himself was not, and he was a coward where his brother was brave enough to claim fault to spare him the whip.
________________
    In its own way, their arrival back on the tribesground was symbolic. Seeing Rakka'to at Rakka's side, and Rakka'a following obediently, the tribe could discern immediately that the older boy was in trouble, and the younger was under the protection of his mother. Her presence alone often drew the attention of the other tribeswomen. While she wasn't the chieftainess, she was arguably one of the best hunters in the wood, and she had gained her prestige at a relatively young age. She was still relatively young, having bore her first son when she was scarcely seventeen--and he had not been her first child.
    The first person to approach was a teenaged girl--Rakka's firstborn daughter. She looked to Rakka'a, who still maintained a proud dignity, then to Rakka'to who was yet meek as a mouse, and finally to her mother. "What happened?"
    Rakka didn't answer, instead turning her head towards Rakka'a, not deigning to actually look at him. Though she seemed calm and stoic as ever, her eldest daughter knew better than to assume she was feeling at all even remotely calm. There were little signs in her mother's body language that told the girl that she was quite livid. The young girl's gaze slid to meet her brother's brave stare.
    "I poached," he said in a tone not unlike his mother's that conveyed no emotion.
    The girl blanched. "On purpose?"
    "No," he answered simply.
    She looked relieved for a moment, but her mother's lips thinned ever so slightly.
    "Carelessness," Rakka began, "is no excuse." She touched Rakka'to's shoulder again, urging him toward his older sister. "Where're the boys, Akkhi?"
    "Sleepin', I think," Akkhi replied, taking Rakka'to's hand when he joined her.
    "In the middle of the night?" Rakka questioned. "Wake 'em, or they'll be wide awake well past the risin' of the sun. When they awake, I want 'em te see our clan's justice done."
    Akkhi blanched again, but didn't argue. She gave Rakka'a a pitiable look, before tugging on Rakka'to's hand and dragging him off. Rakka advanced further in to the settlement, speaking in a low, formal tone with other huntresses, and eventually the chieftainess.
________________
    Within moments, the tribe was abuzz with the news of the boy's fault, and they began to prepare for ritual punishment. Preparations took nearly an hour. The participants adorned their paint and jewelry, and stripped Rakka'a of his shirt, binding his hands and forcing him to kneel after he too had been painted. All the while, he maintained his courageous demeanor. He did not challenge the tribe or its justice, neither did he simper and plead. He simply kept his dignity, even as he was forced to kneel at the center of a gathered ring of his tribespeople.
    Akkhi was within his line of sight, along with the still terribly guilty-looking Rakka'to, and joined by two sleepy, identical, four-year-old boys who shared the Kuhn clan's coloration. The two younglings were the last of Rakka's children born. Everyone had fallen silent, knowing what was to follow, but the two little boys seemed confused.
    "What's wong wif Ah-Ah?" "Why's Ah-Ah dewe?" they both whined, only to be sharply hushed by Akkhi and Rakka'to.
    They were surrounded by their own Kuhn kinsmen, most of Rakka's daughters sitting in front of their mother as she looked on upon her soon-to-be-punished son with a stony gaze.
    Behind the kneeling and top-bare Rakka'a, stood the chieftainess wearing a fearsome wooden mask adorned with feathers and paint. It was carved in the likeness of a predator cat, jaw open and snarling, with terrible fangs. In her right hand rested a short brown whip of leather. Her voice was muffled by the mask, but resonated with her power and influence.
    "Rakka'a Kuhn," she pronounced carefully. "Ye're accused of poaching a young buck. What plead ye?"
    "Guilty," he replied simply, voice strong enough to be heard by all of those gathered. There were hushed murmurs and gasps, largely of disapproval.
    "So be it," said the chieftainess. "First, I sentence ye te five lashes." Her hand raised, displaying the whip for all to see. It wasn't long, so it wouldn't do any real lasting damage, but it was a firm whip, and was sure to sting and leave the skin red.
    She didn't prolong the punishment unnecessarily. All five lashes happened in quick succession. A's fearless demeanor broke with the first lashing, and he cried out for the first three, voice breaking, clenching his teeth hard for the last two. The whipping couldn't have lasted more than ten seconds, but in that time, Rakka'a heard the wailing of his two youngest brothers, joined by his younger sister, who was barely a year older than the twins.
    He trembled with pain by the time the whipping was finished, back red and lightly bleeding. With effort, he straightened his back and looked upon his family, trying to regain his dignity, piece by piece.
    "Second, I revoke yer hunting rights until yer sixteenth cycle," boomed the chieftainess.
    Rakka'a was an astounding hunter. He'd been mentored by the best--his mother. Hunting was his life. Though he would turn sixteen in just under half of a year, he was clearly devastated by that ruling. He half expected it, but had been holding out hope that he would be forgiven for what he claimed was his first accidental transgression. Of course, he wouldn't tell the truth--that it had been Rakka'to who knowingly shot the buck, rather than Rakka'a having accidentally shot it. He was entirely too skilled to make such a mistake, but he was young. It was a believable lie.
    "Third, I revoke yer role as a mentor, permanently," said the chieftainess.
    That, he clearly had not expected, eyes going wide. He looked to Rakka'to in disbelief, and Rakka'to began to weep. Rakka'a had been mentoring his younger brother when the buck died. It was foolish to give the younger boy his bow and quiver, but Rakka'a himself had been even younger than his ten year old brother when he'd shot his first arrow at a live animal. He didn't expect him not to listen when he warned him not to shoot the buck. Now he'd lost the chance to instruct him in the future, and get him back on the right track. Forever.
    Though he felt some resentment at his circumstances, he loved Rakka'to dearly. He lost his rights to train him, but at least Rakka'to hadn't suffered the consequences. He would have suffered just as many lashes and likely been barred from hunting until he was at least thirteen. Rakka'a hung his head, tired and downtrodden. At the very least, his sacrifice was worthwhile. He could be proud of that when he rose the next evening and watched his hunting party depart without him.
    The chieftainess pulled him to his feet, startling him out of his maudlin stupor. Her grip was both firm and gentle. He knew that she didn't mean him any harm, but the tribe's justice had to be done. He turned and bowed formally to her.
    "It is done," she said to him. "Go pray and bathe, brother."
    He bowed again, then made his way to the Kuhns. His mother turned away, still livid, and left.
    "The buck's death won't be in vain. They're skinning it now." Akkhi smiled up at him kindly, sympathetic. One of the young twins was in her arms, still recovering from his wailing, and the other was just fine, playing skip-o'er-the-tail behind her. Their five year old sister was sitting obediently by Akkhi's side. "She'll recover. She just needs time."
    "I know it," Rakka'a said. He was never much to speak overmuch, but Akkhi seemed to understand more than he let on.
    "After ye bathe, come te me and let me look at yer back. Can't have cuts and bruises slowin' ye down with yer activities with Kyara Ora."
    He flushed, only knocked out of his embarrassment when the twin that had been in Akkhi's lap came to cling on to Rakka'a's leg. He smiled and reached down to muss the kitten's hair. "Didn't think ye knew about that," he said to Akkhi.
    Akkhi laughed. "She's a talkative one, that."
    "Right talkative in bed, te," he commended, grinning slightly.
    "Now look who's - YEOW!" She coiled, whirling to face the little boy who had just lost his game of skip-o'er-the-tail, having landed right on it. She picked him up, much to his dislike. The little girl, still ever present by her eldest sister's side, set to petting the tail her little brother had so rudely jumped on, and Akkhi sighed.
    "Ye'll make a fine mother someday," Rakka'a said.
    Akkhi shrugged a shoulder. "And ye'll make a fine uncle, soon enough. I just hope I'm not as 'blessed' as mother was with your like. Little monsters, you boys are," she said, half to Rakka'a, and half to the boy she was now dangling by his shoulders in front of her. "Which one are ye?"
    "Sae," said the guilty little boy.
    "Nooo," the other one cried in reply, looking back to the troublesome twin, then up at Rakka'a, sparing the effort to let out a forced, soft sob. His distressed expression was urging him to intervene, but the teenaged Keeper boy only showed him a helpless shrug.
    Akkhi looked from the one in her arms, to the one wrapped around Rakka'a's leg. She smirked, turning her attention back to the boy she was holding, giving him a shake. "Don't you lie, little Li."
    Rakka'li bubbled with laughter, his trick exposed. He kicked his feet until Akkhi put him down.
    Rakka'a gently pulled the other boy off of him, lifting him and setting him down next to their toddler sister, Hanah Kuhn. Face not betraying how badly the motion he'd just gone through stung his back, he stood tall. "I should get," he said blandly.
    "Don't forget to pray," Akkhi said.
    Rakka'a nodded, reaching down to tweak Rakka'li's ear to distract him from whatever mischief he was planning for Rakka'sae and Hanah. The distraction seemed to work as 'Li ducked and swatted at his hand. The teenager laughed and captured the little boy's wrist, lifting him off the ground and dumping him in Akkhi's lap, who promptly wrapped her arms around him to keep him still.
    "Keep ye," he said in a casual departing greeting, starting off for the springs--a good bath and a good pray.
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