The Wolf Tribe

[Val]

The bright sunlight floating through the canopy was the first thing to awaken the young Miqo’te; the smell of freshly cooked meat incentive to rise. Young Val, barely older than a kit, immediately went about his daily chores along with the rest of the Wolf tribe. It was small, barely more than fifty members, well over half of which were female. Of the handful of males, three were considered nunh. Like the creature they’d taken their name from, the strongest of the three nunh, W’tende, was known for being fierce and wise. He was the leader of their “pack,” an offshoot from the main tribe, and had his choice of mates first and foremost. The two others had their choice from what was left over. The rest of the males were the tia of their tribe.

 

Val went with the tias.

 

While Tende was the leader and sired more offspring than the rest of the tribe, more often than not they turned out to be female. Many began to wonder if he would ever give the clan a new male to pass on his lineage until Val arrived. He was birthed by Tende’s most prized mate, W’diah, and there was certainly no doubt that he was Tende’s son. The Seeker had his mother’s ash blonde hair from birth. He was fair like she was, yet he had his father’s almond eyes and fierce gaze. For coloring, he borrowed blue from his mother and gold from his father. He was leaner than the other tia, not to mention better built. Even as a young adult Val noticed the looks the other females gave him as he strode by in confidence. The other tia, however, did not share the enthusiasm of the tribe’s females. Val often talked down to them even though he himself was a tia. He felt as if he were the proverbial prince of his tribe; the title of nunh his birthright.

 

After a morning of washing the tribe’s clothing and assisting with picking the berries of nearby bushes, Val and his tia brethren finally settled down to finish what was left of the cooked meat. This had been routine for the Seeker. Val especially hated stitching the clothing, which was a job that needed tending to often due to the various trials of the forest. It wasn’t always like this, thankfully. Some mornings Val would be taken aside by the other nunh or Tende himself for private training. His weapon was to be a spear like the rest of the hunters, male and female alike, fashioned from one of the many ash trees that littered the Shroud.

 

With renewed energy and a full stomach, Val retired to see if his mother required any assistance with her chores. His tribe was on the move and had thus vacated their last area, having picked it clean and little game remained. She could have been anywhere: washing clothes, picking berries, skinning the kill from a recent hunt, tending to her mate. Nevertheless with such a small tribe, finding her would prove to be rather simple. In fact, he nearly bumped into her as he rounded a tree on the way to the nearby stream.

 

“Val!” Diah called out in surprise, nearly dropping the small makeshift basket of berries she carried in her hands. “Don’t scare me like that! And put a shirt on. There’s no telling what’s in this part of the Shroud. You could get hurt, or worse!”

 

Val took a moment to look down at his bare chest, marred with a few scars and scratches from branches and briars he’d ran into. He looked back to his mom just to make sure she’d notice him roll his eyes, “Oh c’mon. A flimsy little shirt isn’t gonna make much of a difference. Besides, how’re the women supposed to get a good look at me if I go covering up everything?”

 

Diah stared at him in disbelief before a cheerful laugh rangout. She reached across to rest her hand on Val’s head and ruffled his hair, “You are certainly your father’s son. Did he teach you that during one of those ‘lessons’ of his?”

 

“No. He taught me this,” Val said as he turned to show her. A lengthy scar ran its way from his shoulder to the center of his back. Gruesome as it might have been, the wound had scabbed over and seemed to be healing nicely. This was largely due to the medicinal herbs used on the wound. They were painful, but they healed wounds remarkably well. The women had told him that it would make him strong, like Tende.

 

“Well,” Diah finally asked after surveying the wound, “Didyou learn from your mistakes?” Despite her words and stern outward appearance, her voice carried a soft and gentle tone to it. She was not allowed to be motherly in public, so in private she made sure that Val was taken care of. She knew of his destiny and knew that the road would be arduous. Val smiled to her. The women often cared for their children, though few of them had ever been as caring as Diah. She smiled at him with large, blue eyes and lifted a hand up to tuck some of the sandy blonde hair from her visage. Diah was lovely in every sense of the word. She, like many Wolf tribe females, was known for being independent and self-sustaining. She hunted with the rest of their tribe, prepared their food, tended to the clothing and ensured far more than the other females that their mutual mate was kept satisfied, all without a single complaint. She knew her place, knew what was expected of her, and carried out her job flawlessly.

 

“We’ll know in time,” a third voice rang out from beyond the two, deep and commanding. Tende stepped from beyond the tree before Val managed any sort of response. He was everything a nunh should be. His face was oval shaped and he looked upon Val with piercing, golden eyes. He had long, black hair set in braids. Some strands were left alone, however. From them hung several tribal beads fashioned from wood and dyed blue in color. Like Val, he did not wear his shirt. He trained daily and was naturally fit on top of that, lending to a well-muscled physique. It was meant to intimidate and discourage those that dare challenge him for his nunhship. So far, it had worked.

 

Tende made his way past Val to Diah, his eyes trailing over her body. She often knew what this meant and found herself looking from Val to Tende with a pleading look in her eyes. He gave a soft grunt before speaking up, “Boy.”

 

“Father,” Val replied obediently. Cocky he was, ignorant he was not. He knew what it meant to defy the tribal leader.

 

“Find Kiza. Join him on the hunt. Do not return until you’ve killed something yourself.”

 

Val wouldn’t respond, at least not verbally. He turned and began to walk away to show sign of his immediate compliance. He heard a soft gasp from his mother, forcing a curious glance over his shoulder. Tende could be seen grasping his mother by her shoulders and pushing her against the tree. Val immediately averted his eyes. He knew what came next.

[Val]

Pain. It wasn’t something foreign to him. As a Seeker in the Wolf tribe, Val had been constantly subjected to it for as long as he could remember. He’d first learned to deal with emotional pain as a child when his mother, Diah, was forbidden to care for him as she had in his early years. After all, he needed to learn to fend for himself in case he was left alone in the wild. The second, third, fourth, and many other times he’d been introduced to it was when he trained with other tia and went on hunts. His training was not kind and often resulted in bruises that lasted for weeks; the broken bones lasted much longer. He’d never been subjected to healing herbs unless it was absolutely necessary. They had told him that he’d need to learn to work through it in case he was harmed outside of his tribe’s reach. It certainly seemed to help at first. After all, he’d gone on many hunts and received many wounds from the beasts they’d slain. But if any of that really held any merit, then why the hell did he hurt so much now?

 

It took a moment for the darkened canopy above to return to focus. The taste of something metallic flooded his mouth and something wet dripped from his lips. In the background he could hear some sort of loud buzzing noise, but he couldn’t quite make out what it was.  The more he regained consciousness, the more pain flooded his sensors.  The first thing he noticed was that his head throbbed relentlessly. Next the hot, searing pain in his back. His left arm absolutely refused to respond to his urges to make it do so and another sharp, pulsating pain emanated from his right side. Then, more darkness came.

 

But he was still very conscious. He knew this because his sense of taste had never left him and he could still hear that annoying buzzing sound. Finally his eyes adjusted further in order to find that the looming shade above him was, in fact, another Miqo’te.  The dark brown tuft of hair along the ears gave it away, but the Miqo’te didn’t seem very friendly at all. He wore a deep-seated scowl along his features, something made thoroughly more intimidating by the strong, square jaw and large, broad shoulders that accompanied it. His golden eyes pierced the darkness to ensure Val got a good look at them as he knelt down after the much, much smaller Seeker. It was only then that Val caught a glimpse of a sickening scar that curved its way around the opposing Miqo’te’s neck.

 

It all came back to him in a sudden flash. This was W’renhari. They had known one another since they were babes. Renhari was always considered a prime contender for nunhship ever since a sudden growth spurt sent him towering above the rest of his tia brethren. A fateful hunt some years ago changed all that.

 

Val was not quite of age to attend the hunt, but he recalled Renhari’s fallen form being brought back to their settlement. A ziz that the tribe had been tracking managed to catch him off guard and take a large bite out of his neck. Many believed he’d never make it without proper care, and Tende almost refused to give it to him in order for Val and the rest of the tribe to know what it meant to be careless. Renhari showed great promise, and Tende felt that letting one such as him perish would be a mistake. The tribal healers mended the wound the best they could and left the poor boy to fend for himself. Much to their surprise, Renhari quickly recovered from his wound. His voice, however, was forever lost.

 

Val felt a vice around his neck and what must have been a tree settle down on his chest. His airway had been cut off and the Seeker began to aimlessly writhe beneath his assailant. His only good arm reached out for something—anything—to help him gain freedom. His fingertips brushed over an object, something rough and hard. His fingers immediately curled around it and his arm swung around with every bit of might that he had left. The large branch crashed into the side of Renhari’s skull, just along his brow, and sent him rolling away in a mixture of pain and fear. Val rolled in the opposite direction in order to gain some distance between the two. He struggled to stand and, once he did, suddenly knew where he was.

 

He was surrounded by the rest of his tribe, all deathly silent as they watched the spectacle unfold. The buzzing he’d heard had been in his head all along, likely ringing from when Renhari knocked him to the ground—if that’s how he’d even ended up there in the first place. Both of their hunting spears were randomly scattered about the field, disarmed by one another during what must have been a close fight judging by the attention they were being given. Unfortunately for him, one seemed to be very close to Renhari’s position.

 

Val also recalled that the two were in the final match to be recognized as a nunh, the position left vacant by Renhari’s father. Territorial disputes were not uncommon for the Wolves, thus why they cherished strength and tenacity over all else. Tende had always been one to fiercely protect what was theirs, including the lands they’d settled in and their surrounding areas. He’d tried to settle things peacefully. The neighboring tribe, their own Wolf brethren, had agreed to leave their lands after they’d managed a few nights of rest. They attacked not long after and, while they had won, Tende’s tribe was not without its casualties. Renhari’s father was amongst them.

 

Renhari’d trained long and hard after. Both Miqo’te believed the position to be their birthright, and both were quietly uncertain as to whether or not they’d be victorious. Over time, their rivalry grew. Val often teased Renhari, making fun of his inability to speak by stating that he deserved his fate. After all, had he been good enough he’d have never been caught by the ziz in the first place. Renhari was not quite as cold as Val. He accepted Val as a worthy opponent, even respected the humility that he’d tried to bring. He spent many evenings training and meditating in order to ward the negative emotions away. For him, it all boiled down to that final moment when he’d be able to unleash everything he had at Val. Then, the Seeker would pay dearly.

 

Val was the only male sired by his father, and his father took a great deal of pride in him. Not only his father, but the entire tribe expected great things of him. They saw the only son of Tende as a great omen; becoming a nunh was his destiny. It was the sole reason he was birthed, his purpose to live, and he would not come this far just to let it slip out of his grasp. With renewed vigor, Val knelt down to pick up a stone almost too big for his fingers to wrap around. Renhari had not quite recovered from the wound, which gave him plenty of time to hide the makeshift weapon behind his back.

 

“You can give up now, you know!” Val boasted to Renhari in his native tongue. “I’m not a ziz. You’ll get no mercy here.”

 

Renhari had certainly been hit hard, the skin tearing open just above his left brow. He’d be forced to keep that eye shut now, half-blinded thanks to the blood that dripped from it. He brushed his forearm over the wound to try and relieve himself, but it was no use. Even the tiniest droplet would be enough to blind him. With a huff of annoyance, Renari stood. He lifted one of the previously discarded hunting spears with him and raised it in a challenging gesture towards Val.

 

“Mute, dumb, and blind?” the Seeker continued, a cocky grin on his lips. “You can’t catch a break, can you? What makes you think you’d ever be a Nunh? You dishonor your father by even trying!”

 

That set Renhari off. He’d let many things slide by him over the years, but to question his devotion to his father in such a public manner was more than he could handle. He pulled the spear back and charged with all his might. Val followed in turn, stumbling at first but eventually finding the strength and energy to keep his legs beneath him. When the two met, Renhari thrust the spear forward with his right arm. Val jerked to his left, the weapon just grazing the right side of his neck as it went by. He simultaneously swung his right arm around to deliver an open-palmed strike with the previously acquired rock directly to Renhari’s exposed trachea. Renari never saw it coming.

 

Val turned to peer down at his foe, watching closely to ensure he’d not get back up. Renhari would not move. The only sounds that could be heard were the pathetic gargling as he tried to breathe. No one cheered. No one moved to help Renhari. No one dare sought to congratulate Val. No one except Tende, that is. Val turned to find his father moving forward from the edge of their makeshift arena. He dropped to his knees and bowed forward to show his respect.

 

“Father,” the Seeker spoke obediently. Tende knelt before him and brushed the tips of his fingers over Val’s chin in order to lift his gaze skyward. For the first time since Val’s birth, Tende smiled at him. Val was unable to find the words to break the silence. He saw his mother watching out of the corner of his eyes. It seemed as if the entire tribe was unsure of what Tende was going to do, as was often the case. Tende continued to say nothing Val. He stood, gave a beckoning glance to Diah, and left the arena. Diah followed, though she gave a pleased smile to Val as she wandered past.

 

The rest of the tribe soon followed to go about their daily business. Several carried Renhari away, presumably to assist him in whatever way they could. If not, his body would be discarded. Val eventually stood and scanned the crowd. He was a nunh now, and as such he had duties to perform. Two Sunseeker females caught his eye, one well-endowed with fiery red hair and another blonde with shapely hips. He beckoned them forward and they happily obeyed.

 

Pleasure. Up until now, it had been something entirely foreign to him. He’d never been allowed to have it as a child, perhaps in order to make him fight harder when the time came. He couldn’t use his left arm, but he didn’t care. The pain in his back and chest all but vanished and the throbbing of his head was drowned out in the pleased cries of his chosen mates. He wouldn’t last long, not his first time. But then he had them again, and again, and again, until neither of them could find the strength to continue. He lay there with a pleased smile on his face, staring up at the darkened canopy as it slowly drifted out of focus. This was something he could certainly get used to.

[Val]

Val was never sure how much time had passed since his foray into Nunhship. Such things weren't important to his tribe. They were well aware that everything had a beginning and an end. It was something they knew to be inevitable, so there was little reason to count days or worry about other such nonsense. Val gained his relatively relaxed and carefree disposition from these teachings—or the lack thereof—and thus didn’t seem to worry about others constantly complaining to Tende about how he’d begun to treat the rest of the tribe.

 

Being a Nunh had rather quickly gone to his head. He loved the attention, he loved the power, and most of all he loved the unbridled pleasure of it all. While Tende and Kiza saw bedding the tribe’s females as their duty to the tribe itself and an honorable ritual, Val’s outlook on the idea soon became something far more selfish. Despite being considered the weakest Nunh of the three, he acted as if he were the strongest. Several Miqo’te, men and women alike, began to disappear from the tribe. There were no signs of a struggle and no tracks to follow; they simply vanished, leaving behind only what they couldn’t take with them.

 

Val didn’t care. While the rest of his brethren bothered themselves with the well-being of their tribe, Val was focused on an entirely different matter. There was one Seeker woman that he’d had eyes on for some time now, and not because she was particularly more beautiful than the rest. While her features lent an exotic tone to her body, the rest of her was rather plain and ordinary. She had curves, but none of them overly exaggerated. Val noted that plenty of other women had larger breasts, shapelier hips, or prettier smiles. However Simah, as she was known, was unique: she had been the only one in their tribe born with completely white hair. Her eyes were a bright pink and her skin was pale. Some took it as an ill omen, while others considered her to be blessed by the gods.

 

As she grew, many of the tribe alienated her despite Tende’s wishes to accept her as one of their own. She soon found a friend in Val, whom had been there to comfort her since they were both children. Sure, he could be mean to her, but she found it almost endearing in a brotherly sort of way. After a failed attempt on her life by one particularly superstitious member, Val even took the time to teach her a few things about defending herself. He was her savior, her proverbial knight in shining armor, and would always be there for her. What she didn’t know is that Val, the selfish prick that he was, kept her close so that he could claim her when she inevitably became a woman. She was one of a kind to their tribe, and he’d make sure he was the first to have her. In fact, that was precisely why he was now tracking down his father.

 

“I know that he’s your son, but he is destroying this tribe,” Val heard Kiza speak as he drew near the two. “You need to be rid of him before he completely destroys us.”

 

Like many times before, Val had hidden himself behind one of the trees that populated the Shroud. He was never one to keep himself hidden for long, however, and thus stepped into view in order make his presence known. As per usual, Kiza was without a shirt. He and Val were similar and that they both had plenty of scars from their hunts, though Kiza was more than proud to show them off. The Seeker was fit and lean, with a narrow face that sported short, dark red hair. He often kept spiked using the sap of trees. He somehow felt that it was more defining and allowed him to stand out among the rest of his kin, while Val thought it made him look like an idiot.

 

“I’ll have a talk with the boy,” Tende assured after a moment of silence.

 

“And one other thing,” Kiza added upon noticing Val's approach, “Simah has come of age. I know that you have your hands full with the tribe, so I’d like to take her as my mate.”

 

“So you wish to see if she’ll truly sire one of the Voidsent?” Tende questioned with a hint of mirth, “You’re welcome to her. I’ve no reason to protest.”

 

“But I do,” Val finally spoke aloud, disappointment clear in his voice. “Simah is mine. You already have plenty of mates for yourself, Kiza.”

 

“And still not near as many as you’ve caused to abandon us, boy.” Tende responded with an air of finality. Kiza only turned to offer Val a coy grin, while Val was left to stare back in anger.

 

Val took a rebellious step forward, forcing Kiza to go into a defensive stance while Tende remain unmoved. “But I’m a Nunh!” he called back to them, “And your son! Why’re you taking his side?”

 

"Because you’ve yet to prove yourself worthy of being either. You have the strength and determination, but you lack the discipline. You treat your tribesmen like common fodder instead of your people. You are a destructive, vain, and selfish child. You want women? You want glory? First prove to your people that you deserve any of it, and then the day will come that you win their respect and your desires are granted. But that will not be this day." A long silence fell over the three, and only then did Tende take his time to address Kiza. “You can take her after your hunt. We are low on provisions, so that must take priority.”

 

“Would you like to join me?” Kiza questioned. Unlike Val, he knew better than to openly gloat about his success, especially in front of Tende. “It would be like old times.”

 

“Yes. It has been some time since I’ve gone on a hunt, and recent events have given me a hunger for blood. Boy,” he spoke to Val with bass in his voice, “If I return and you’ve done anything to cause harm to this tribe or its people, you will be punished. Is that understood?”

 

Val left in a huff. He knew that he had little room to argue with his father’s rules, especially if he wanted to keep his life or station. The more he thought about it, however, the more sure he became that Kiza didn’t even want Simah for himself. He’d likely seen the two together and decided that he would take her from him out of spite. Yes, that had to be it. Unfortunately there was little that Val could do to impede his father’s wishes. Unless.. Unless he managed to convince Simah to lay with him before Kiza got the chance to bring her the news. After all, the hunt could take the rest of the evening and Val was certain that it would give him more than enough time. And why not? He’d managed to do it with plenty of Kiza’s other mates.