Clash of Men Page 4

  Perhaps they were just a tale used to scare children into behaving, how could I ever know for sure?

  He picked himself up off the hill and began to walk again. Then Ohitekah noticed the ground looked different, and paused. There were tracks in the dirt left by bison. He looked straight ahead, the empty route he was following. He looked to his left, the trail of the bison herd. He turned and decided to follow the bison. They may be heading to a source of water. Tracking gave him something to do at least, kept his mind focused on something other than his poor condition. The herd was walking, slowly. They must have newborns with them, passing this way about a day ago. He could tell by their droppings they had had little to drink, so they probably were looking for water.

  Ohitekah wondered if the buffalo ever prayed to the Mythics, or if they understand their place in the world. The Shaman says they do, that they have spirits just like people do. Whether or not they actually pray for rain is another thing.

  Suddenly, Ohitekah realized that he might not be the only one tracking the buffalo. He paused his trek for a moment. If an enemy tribe found him out here he could be killed. He looked back and could see his own footprints in the grass, noticing how easy they could be tracked. He had a slight moment of panic, but decided to stay on his course. Most other tribes would respect that he was on a vision quest, and would not disturb him.

  Most.

  The sun was starting to set. This quest was already taking longer than he had hoped, he had no idea how long this could last. Though, he thought, what if I had been given the vision already and missed it entirely.

  Could that happen?

  Ohitekah hoped the vision would be a bit more noticeable than that. Maybe he needed to look deeper at the things around him. Perhaps these were spirit footprints and they were leading him to a holy place of worship. He checked the footprints again and tested the droppings. They did not feel like spirit droppings, and they smelled pretty real.

  He set up camp at the top of another hill. His ‘camp’ was really just himself laying down on the grass. There was not much he could do without supplies. The sun had completely set and he could see the bright stars in the sky, the same stars he saw from his tipi last night. His stomach grumbled as he laid on his side. He took another, longer, sip from his water and hoped that would settle it for tonight. Ohitekah closed his eyes and tried to sleep. He had heard stories of spirits sometimes communicating in dreams.

  When he woke up expecting some grand dream explaining his destiny. Yet, to his dismay, he could not remember anything.

  Ohitekah decided to get up and move on. The sun had not yet risen. The hill had also not moved. The rolling hills were clearly just a children’s tale. He picked up his water sack and started to walk again. To his dismay, his stomach was much worse than last night. He hoped this was his last day wondering aimlessly across the plains.

  Whoever came up with this vision quest must have been mad because Ohitekah felt as if he was going to die out here. Perhaps he could just lie to everyone, make up a grand story of maybe a buffalo spirit telling him to be a great hunter for the rest of his life. No one would ever know. How could they? Maybe everyone came to the same decision in the face of dying from the elements. Perhaps instead of wasting away alone in the fields everyone pretended they saw a "vision" and chose their own path. The whole community was secretly hiding their boring story from everyone else, everyone thinking they were the only one who actually saw nothing.

  The buffalo trail was growing fresher. He was catching up to them. After a few hours, he came across the place where they rested for the night. Clumps of brown hair blended with the grass and he could see the flattened dirt where they laid.

  The herd trail lead to the top of another hill, and he stumbled to its peak. Perhaps the whole herd was just beyond this ridge. Perhaps there was a large pool of water that only he and the bison knew about. He mustered his last bit of strength and climbed to the top.

  His face dropped, followed shortly by his knees. The trail of bison he had been following continued straight into the horizon. He was still days away. There was nothing here for him. He had been walking for two days straight with no food, no water, and no vision. He had run out of sweat, out of tears. There was nothing in his body left for him to lose. He collapsed to the ground, giving up. If he wasn’t getting a spiritual vision here, he was never getting one.

  There was a deafening crack of thunder and a blinding flash of lightning. The sound and light was so sudden and loud it made him jump to his feet. Ohitekah was standing in an unfamiliar place. He was no longer at the top of the hill; he was now in a totally new location on the plains. There were spiraling black storm clouds that blocked the sun and thick pillars of white lightning that pierced the ground beneath it. There was a man standing at the top of a hill under the storm. Ohitekah thought that it could be his father, but he had no memory of his father’s face. He tried to look closely. The face was familiar. It was too familiar to be his father’s. He had seen this face before. Then it clicked. It was him! It was Ohitekah.

  How am I seeing myself? What is this?

  He was somehow staring at himself from a distance. Ohitekah was speechless.

  What does this mean?

  Then the Ohitekah on the hill suddenly grew large golden wings and transformed into a giant glowing bird. The being made a loud cry and flew into the heavens leaving a trail of bright lightning. The Thunderbird? What else could that be? He collapsed again, out of shock this time. The bird soared through the clouds and seemed to explode into a burst of electricity, the bolts slicing across the entire plains leaving trails of scorched land. The power was incredible, and Ohitekah feared for his life. There was another flash of light and crack of thunder and Ohitekah was back on the hilltop, not a single cloud in the sky.

  He knew that was his vision, no doubt about that, but what shook him to his core was the next part of the quest. As a part of the tradition, the man must prove himself to the spirits and the tribe. Whatever animal he saw in the vision, he must hunt and kill, bringing a trophy of the kill back to his tribe. Usually the animal to be hunted was buffalo or a rabbit, maybe an eagle. But there was only one animal in the vision that Ohitekah could see.

  Ohitekah must hunt and kill the Mythic of Thunder.

  Chapter Four:

  Survival

  Ohitekah was shaking. “What does this mean?” He found himself saying out loud. He paced back and forth frantically. Ohitekah had received his vision, but he needed to hunt the spirit shown to him.

  The Thunder Mythic! Can that even die? He thought to himself. It has been flying for thousands of years, sent by the God of Storms to serve him on earth. At least that’s what the legends said. Until now Ohitekah even doubted the Thunderbird’s existence. He has only heard broad claims of people thinking they have seen it flying above storms. Now he is supposed to hunt it, and kill it.

  Why couldn’t I have just gotten a rabbit or something easy like everyone else? He thought to himself. “No!” he began to shout to the open air. “I get the legendary being sent from a god to create thunderstorms around the earth.” This was terribly unfair. How could he even begin to approach this task sent to him by the spirits? This was it, now he is certainly never going home.

  Well at least the vision is done now. He could stop starving himself and put on some decent clothes. He was only supposed to fast until he received his vision. Once the hunt began, he could begin to eat again. That was some good news for once. Ohitekah noticed for the first time that he was no longer as hungry. Actually, he was overwhelmed with energy. Pacing back and forth, he thought about what to do first. He is forbidden to return to his tribe, so that was out of the question. Perhaps he should head north east, toward the large forest where he could hunt and gather supplies.

  The forest was in a different land, the Kingdom of Ashland. They spoke a different language there but Ohitekah was familiar with it. He was taught to speak the words of his tribe as well as the common tongue should he
ever have to deal with them.

  Ohitekah looked for the sun. It was just past noon. He turned around and started walking in the general direction of the forest.

  The forest was out of the territory of his people. He seldom ventured that far except for trading purposes. The forest belonged to their kingdom, and they shared the large eastern border with the tribes of the plains. The people who lived there were very different than Ohitekah and his people. They wore heavier clothes, sometimes armor made of metal. Their bows were held differently and shot with something called a trigger, and they carried long swords instead of clubs. They also did not move like the tribes do, living instead in permanent settlements. That idea seemed strange to him, only living in one place all the time. How could you gather supplies? Maybe that’s why they needed us to trade with them. Some were small towns, some huge structures made out of stone. It’s a very odd place for a tribesman to visit.

  He brought his mind back to the current problem. It was about another day’s walk until he crossed the border, and that was a rough estimate. Ohitekah worried about his mother. He would be expected back within a few days, and he knew it would be much longer than that, if he returned at all. They probably would assume he was killed or starved, as was sometimes the case. Ohitekah did not want her to think those things, but there was nothing he could do.

  This walk went by much easier than the previous one. Ohitekah knew where he was going. He had a goal, a destination. He knew food waited for him, possibly shelter. The sun set behind him and he rested at the base of a small hill. He did not dream of anything that night, too exhausted from his journey.

  The sun woke him again. He rolled over to drink his water but remembered there was none left. Getting up, he continued his walk across the plains. There was still not a cloud in the sky.

  He paused his steps, and placed his ear to the ground so he could hear better. It sounded as if there was thunder coming from under the ground. Small pebbles around him began to shake and jump around. This sound was all too familiar to Ohitekah. He stood up again, the rumbling approaching quickly.

  It’s a stampede!

  He panicked. Looking around, there was no place to hide and no way to defend against a buffalo herd in full stampede. He did his best to run, but it was coming closer. He turned around but did not see the buffalo like he expected. This was much more surprising, a herd of wild horses charged over the hill.

  He stopped running and watched them. Wild horses were growing more and more rare this day and age. Most were bred from within tribes. The Shaman of the tribe said that wild horses would not let just anyone ride. They choose who may ride them. They can never be trained completely, and are never truly yours. It was said that old heroes would find wild horses in their time of need. Ohitekah realized this must be a sign, and maybe the opportunity he needed. He changed direction and sprinted toward the horses. They were fast, very fast. Ohitekah expected this. They gained ground on him quickly. His breath was running ragged and his energy dropping dangerously low, but Ohitekah managed to intercept some of them. He locked eyes with one of the mustangs. It was white with large brown patches, and one of the smaller horses of the pack. Something else about it stood out however. It kept looking over to Ohitekah, as if expecting him to catch up. It seemed it could run faster, but was holding back for some reason. Ohitekah picked up his pace. That was the horse he wanted.

  With one final burst of speed Ohitekah raced up to the mustang and jumped at him, grabbing him by the neck. Ohitekah hung to the side of the horse, holding on with all he had left. The mustang stumbled and came to stop, but Ohitekah did not let go. The rest of the horses ran past them.

  Uneasily, Ohitekah lowered himself off the neck of the stallion. For a moment, they both paused to catch their breath. When Ohitekah looked the horse in the eye, there was no fear. Ohitekah felt he was looking into the eyes of an old friend. For some reason, Ohitekah felt compelled to speak.

  “Come with me now, please. Help me, noble stallion,” Ohitekah asked the horse kindly. He knew it sounded ridiculous, but he believed the horse could understand. “There is something I need to do, and I can’t do it alone. I will let you free once I am done, and you may return to your family. I promise. Please, I need your help now.” He looked into the horse’s large brown eyes. It looked trusting. Ohitekah took a deep breath. “I will die without you.” Ohitekah stroked the horse’s face, then took a step back. The horse stood still for a moment, looked at Ohitekah and looked back to the horses galloping away.

  This is ridiculous. This horse can turn and run away right now and I would be left for dead. It can’t understand me anyway. What am I doing?

  The horse looked back at Ohitekah for a long moment. It took a step toward him and lowered his head.

  Ohitekah was overjoyed. He stroked the horse’s mane and jumped on top of him. The horse immediately bucked and threw him to the ground. The landing knocked the wind out of him, and it took Ohitekah a minute to roll over.

  “That was rude.” Ohitekah stood back up.

  Ohitekah had to remember that this beast was not tamed. It was a wild mustang. Ohitekah stared at him for another moment.

  “Look, my name is Ohitekah. Do you have a name? You’re a very fast horse, you know that? Can I name you Atsiniltl’ish?” The horse cocked his head to the side. Ohitekah looked down to think. “No, no, that’s no good. What’s the translation… Bolt! That sounds nice... Bolt.” The horse made a motion with his head.

  “All right, Bolt. We’re going to have to work together here. I have no experience taming or breaking horses. Not like that’s what I want to do to you, that is...”

  Why am I explaining myself to a horse?

  “…but I am trying to go to the forest of Ashland. It’s that way.” Ohitekah pointed east. “It’s about a day or so walk for me, but together, we can be there tonight.”

  This is so stupid. People are going to think I’m crazy.

  “So. Please. Can I ride you into the forest? I won’t kick or hit you. You can just go at your own pace. All right?”

  Bolt made another motion with his head and turned to face east.

  I remember stories of some Shamans being able to speak to horses, but I can’t believe this is working. Maybe I should be a Shaman or something when this is over.

  Ohitekah climbed slowly back onto Bolt’s back. He paused there for a moment expecting a buck. After a minute, he took a deep breath and relaxed. Bolt took a few fast steps forward and came to a halt, throwing Ohitekah over him and back into the ground.

  Ohitekah groaned and rolled to his back. He let out a deep sigh and looked over to Bolt. He was standing over him. If Ohitekah didn’t know better, it seemed as if the horse was laughing. It bent back over and offered Ohitekah to climb back onto him.

  Ohitekah rolled his eyes and cautiously mounted the horse once more.

  "I knew I should have grabbed that black horse, he looked faster anyway," Ohitekah spoke quietly to himself.

  Bolt dug his hooves into the dirt and took off faster than anything Ohitekah had ever rode in his life. He leaned forward and grabbed onto Bolt’s mane to avoid falling off. The two rode for a while at top speed. Ohitekah felt as if Bolt was testing him, and he held on as tight as he could. Eventually, the mustang settled into a more reasonable pace. Ohitekah took a breath now that the race was over.

  “Is that out of your system now?” Ohitekah asked. He patted Bolt on the neck. The horse let out a snort and continued east.

  Riding bareback was easy for Ohitekah, as he had done it many times before. Saddles were hard to come by for someone his age and, for the most part, unnecessary to most tribesmen. Ohitekah preferred bareback. He felt closer to his companion. They rode for miles and miles together, much further than Ohitekah could have walked in one day.

  Soon he could see it, the break in the horizon: the Ashland forest. The tall pointed trees of green towered into the sky. They picked up speed and found themselves at the border of their homeland. The horse s
topped in front of the forest. Bolt was clearly uncomfortable about entering the dark woods.

  “Afraid of some trees? Don’t worry. I’ll watch out for both of us, let’s find a place to sleep.” Ohitekah patted him again on the neck. Bolt slowly moved into the forest line.

  The forest was thick, the base of some trees were larger than tipis back home. Their wide trunks stretched up from the brown dirt and their green limbs cast a ceiling over the forest floor. Few beams of light penetrated the dark canopy. The slim rays of light glistened down like auras of gold. This was a very peaceful forest, where the squirrels and animals took little notice of him.

  Good for hunting, Ohitekah thought.

  The trees seemed old, somehow untouched here, as though the people of Ashland did not care for the serenity of their own backyard. Ohitekah had heard that Ashland was once all forest, north to south. But in the shadow of the volcano, and in the steady development of industry, castles and villages cleared down the trees to just one last forest. Ohitekah picked a nice spot to set up camp. They found a small stream and both of them immediately took a long drink. Ohitekah drank as much as he could and then filled up his water pouch.

  Ohitekah had no way to tie up Bolt, but he figured the horse was cautious about the forest and probably wouldn’t stray too far from sight. In the meantime, Ohitekah collected foliage and wood from where he could scavenge around the camp. He made an effort to not kill any trees, and only used wood that was already dead. He constructed a small lean-to shelter to rest under, softening the bottom with some grass. It was conveniently warm enough to not need a fire, so that step could be skipped for now. He then gathered sticks, rocks, and berries and set up a few animal traps and snares around camp. They were designed for small rodents, or maybe a rabbit. He could check these again in the morning.

  Once the traps were all set up, they got ready for the quickly approaching night. Ohitekah kept an eye on Bolt, who was resting nearby. Ohitekah decided he had a few more minutes of light left and collected some softer leaves to build a more comfortable foliage mat to sleep on. He decided this had been a good move, as the bed was very comfortable.