Chapter 2

The days bled into weeks and Taima slipped across the border into the tribal lands of the Kindee. He had crossed mountains, rivers and valleys and all of them had left little impression upon him. Once he passed the ruins of an ancient building whose entrance was half buried in the ground. The walls, pitted and brown, were faced with large depictions of seashells carved into the walls, even though they were thousands of leagues from the great ocean. He smelled wolf and made a wide detour of the ruin despite his curiosity.

It was midmorning and tiny halos of sunlight bounced off the leaves standing limply in the full sun. Yesterday's rain had turned the air humid. The sun warmed up the packed earth underneath the tall, spreading trees. The ground was moist, making it difficult for Taima to hide his trail as he skirted through what he hoped was the northern boundary of the Kindee Tribe.

Taima was hungry, but he was afraid. If he had caught someone from another tribe hunting on his land, he would have killed them without hesitation. If they asked for hospitality rights, then he would have had to withhold his killing blow. He wouldn't be happy though and might still have struck the stranger down if there had been no witnesses. Now he was the stranger, running from his great shame. He had no desire to tarry in these bounded lands where others would understand the meaning of "winnowed" and "untouchable."

Above him he glimpsed a small clearing peeking out between the massive trees. The canopies were so thick that much of the underbrush couldn't find enough sunlight to survive. Taima felt like he was walking in the open, exposed to all eyes from a great distance. From this distance he recognized weeds and plants in the clearing that might have edible roots. Although he couldn't see the edges of the meadow, he was willing to bet the fringes were filled with berry bushes that thrived in partial sun.

He turned from the game trail and started to climb between the boulders and the trees. He was about to reach for the next shelf of rock and pull himself up when he heard voices from below. Freezing in place, Taima willed his lungs to move slowly. He was half hidden behind a tree trunk but his head and arm was exposed.

Three warriors walked into view on the game trail he had left only moments before. They were paying attention to signs on the ground although they weren't quiet about it. Their accents were thick to Taima's ears.

"You think these tracks are fresh?" the first one with the red feathers in his right braid.

A man with the intricate tattoo on his right arm shook his head.

"It only rained yesterday, you moron."

"Did you see the tits on Darwoonee last night?" the third one with the big nose asked.

"I could get lost in those swinging fruit," tattoo man said.

"What are we supposed to do if we catch this guy," red feather asked, apparently unimpressed with Darwoonee's breasts from last night.

Taima didn't hear the answer because the three warriors had walked past his hiding place and continued down the game trail. They didn't appear to take his presence too seriously, but he wasn't going to take any chances. As quietly as he could, he scampered up the rest of the mountain to the meadow.

He found berries and ate them as quickly as he could. He was relieved to see that the berry bushes were covered in spiky thorns because it provided an extra barrier between him and his lazy trackers. Because of his hunger, he chanced a few steps into the meadow to harvest what leaves and roots he recognized. A few young tubers were also sprouting and he stored them in the bottom of his rucksack for a later time when he could light a fire. Rolled in wet leaves and cooked in the ashes of a fire, tubers were a traveling man's best friends.

He continued along the edge of the meadow to the opposite side and plunged into the trees again. Needing information, Taima kept climbing until he reached the summit, or near enough to the summit that he could look out upon the land. This mountain was less steep than the ones of his tribal lands.

The view was spectacular. To the south Taima could see the distant smoke of a Kindee village and her cooking fires. It looked to be at least three days away if the terrain wasn't too difficult. That gave Taima heart. The bulk of this tribe was far away. He shied away from looking to the east because there was nothing there for him.

The winnowed could return in one year and the tribe had to welcome back the hapless man who had survived by a boon from the gods. What an empty gesture that would be. No woman would willingly give him bed rights; his own clan would be ashamed of his return. There would be no hope of rising to a council seat or attaining rank in the tribe. The winnowed were tainted forever.

He rounded a finger of rock and froze again. An old man with a huge head of grey hair and a long beard was sitting on a ledge that faced out over the western horizon. The man was wrapped in a bearskin against the chill wind.

"Come closer, young warrior," the old man croaked in the odd accent of the Kindee tribe.

Taima saw no good options, so he drew near, thinking the old man couldn't hurt him or chase him down.

"You don't dress like a Kindee," the old man said as Taima approached.

Taima looked at the old man's face and realized that the man's eyes were white with cataracts.

"You can't even see me," Taima said, not meaning to speak aloud.

"You don't sound like Kindee either. You speak the accent of the savages of the east," the old man said.

"I'm of the Trapi," Taima said. "I was of the Trapi."

The old man was silent for a moment as he turned his empty gaze back to the west. Absently he scratched his beard and sucked his cheeks once and then once again.

"You are an untouchable," the old man finally said. "Why?"

"I don't know for sure. I asked the second daughter of the goat master for bed rights," Taima said, unable to lie for some reason.

"Goat master is a stupid title," the old man said. "What do you have to eat?"

Taima shrugged. "Not much. I have some red root and minty leaves. There are some tubers but I don't have a fire to cook them."

"On the other side of this ledge is a protected alcove with some scraps of wood," the old man said. "Feed me and I will grant you a boon."

With warriors somewhere below and nowhere else to turn, Taima did as he was told. Besides, he hadn't talked to another human in many weeks and he was desperately lonely. If a blind, half toothless old man wanted his company, he wasn't about to complain. As he bent over to light a fire, he heard the trickle of water to his left.

The wood was dry and the fire started easily. Investigating the alcove, Taima found a little trickle of water running in the rocks. He wet the minty leaves and wrapped the tubers, gladly sacrificing the bitter greens for uncharred tuber. Then he drank deeply of the sweet water. He placed the tubers on the small fire and returned to the old man.

"Did you find the water?" the old man asked.