Young Flame

I can finally see it. Our destination is on the horizon, a large pointy thing unmissable amongst the featureless sandy wasteland. Uncle calls it a shipwreck. A ship that had been wrecked. He was cagey about what a ship actually is, but something that big can only be some form of shelter. Maybe the eastern races lived out here at some point. No áed would be silly enough to build their own homes from timber, no matter how heat-resistant they manage to make it.

Timber is an important resource for us even if it is more prone to accidental damage than any other type of material besides some furs. It is an extremely easy-to-use crafting material that doesn’t require us to set up entire workstations to use as most ores do.

We use wood in our traditional rituals that require us to let the fire begin naturally. These fires, like the funeral pyre, are given no direct interference to allow the will of the world to determine if it is the correct time for it. If the pyre doesn’t start, we would try again somewhere else the next day. After the fire reaches a certain strength, we would then oversee and control the flame for the rest of the ritual.

The most important use for wood in áed tribes is the production of charcoal, which is the best form of sustenance for young children. As the youngest member of the tribe, I have seen no one but myself consume it. I remember being told how important it was for me to eat it when I was first trying to be allowed to have normal mined coal.

Now, as much as I want to move on from coal and consume other rocks and metals like everyone else, I know I can't. My flame is still far too temperate to burn through them and I would only give myself indigestion.

Unfortunately, I’m speaking from experience.

Turning my attention back to the shipwreck far in the distance, I struggle to make out any features besides its outline. Objects in the desert have a weird way of obscuring their size and distance. Some things you’ll see don’t change their size for hours, making you think they are really far away huge things. Which then turn out barely bigger than they appeared hours ago. Then there are the times when you see something minutes before you come across it and the thing turns out to be huge. Most of the time it happens because of the dunes of sand blocking sight, but I doubt that’s all there is to it.

Elder Enya returned from scouting the shipwreck not long ago. Turns out it’s one of the former circumstances; we still have many hours of trekking before we reach it. The other news she brought was that she’d seen an encampment of another áed tribe already set up.

This comes as a surprise to everyone; almost a year has passed since we last interacted with another tribe. I feel excited to meet them. Had they been to the ocean? The coast isn’t too far south from here, so it isn’t impossible, especially if they frequent the area.

It is odd to see another tribe this far south. Our tribe only came down so far to keep out of the reach of the hostile groups that murdered our tribesmen. And we have been travelling further south than we ever had before. The elder’s plan now is to head west and place the mountain ranges between us and the known search area of our threats.

I hadn’t been close to the fight that day. Elder Enya hadn’t noticed the hostiles within the mine and by the time our first scout checked it out, we had already gotten too close. A group of our elders and the better warriors of our tribe engaged the hostiles after they came charging out towards us. Uncle led me away, keeping me from seeing the fight.

When they came back, they were nine members short, four of our elders missing. My mummy didn’t come back. A pained tightening pulses in my chest remembering the day.

They had been waiting for us. Water wielders slaughtered many of our tribesmen before they even realised what had happened. Nobody expected it. The enemy group had too many able to control water for us to fight without losses, even while we had the advantage of numbers.

My elders found maps on their bodies. They contain markings denoting many of our race’s most common resource collection and camping locations in the area. They had more information on the area than we do.

It was also determined they weren’t working separately and there is a larger supporting structure for this group. They found notes confirming that there are many other groups and that they are definitely hunting áed.

Nobody told me this directly. Everyone still believes I don’t hear when they talk after my bedtime. They prevent me from knowing when I am around. They try to make me think we are heading south because of the ‘untouched resources’ we can find in this area.

I feel uneasy about them keeping this from me; do they not trust me? My thoughts had been consumed with grief since my mum's passing, but now? They are still keeping the biggest issue we face from me. Do they assume I can’t handle it? It is irritating.

It has been on the minds of everyone in the tribe for the entire month since the attack occurred. Whenever they believe I’m not listening, or I’m not around, they talk. It’s all they talk about. They speak of their fears of what lay behind us. They speak of the uncertainty our path lay ahead of us.

While in my bed, overhearing their subdued comments, my thoughts resonate.

Why did they attack us? What are they after? Are they following us?

The information taken from the group that attacked us confirms they are targeting áed. But why?

It is a good thing we will interact with the other áed tribe soon. Giving them the forewarning not to head north might save their lives.

The ship is enormous. At least a hundred of me tall. The front is flat, but the sides curve to a point at the back. The walls of the ship taper to a sharp spike at the top, pointing into the sky.

The foreign tribe’s camp is set up a short distance from the shipwreck. Their ger are familiar and of the same style as ours, but their wagons are odd. They are huge, looking way too heavy for an áed to reasonably pull without tiring themselves in minutes. The space in the wagons is double, maybe even triple, that of our wagons. And each wagon has this strange box at the front with padded seats on top. Thin metal tubes poke out of the box at random points and curve back in. It looks like someone took several spears and bent them out of shape before shoving them into the thing.

The weirdest thing is that the wagon does not have the long handles at the front that allow for easy pulling. Do they have to push it from its rear? It looks inconvenient.

They have three of the things, and I don’t see any standard wagons around, so they must be able to push them somehow. Even if they would be incredibly heavy with 3 carts worth of storage.

The elders go off to give their initial greetings and discuss trade while those who don’t go with them, including uncle and I, move to set up our own camp for the next few days.

I don’t notice until I try to set up the framework of our ger that uncle’s attention is on the other tribe.

We learnt they are the Kenna tribe. Not a name I am familiar with, but I’m sure those older than I had interactions with or heard things in the past.

I can't set up the ger by myself. I am too small to reach the parts necessary to bind it in place.

I am going to call my uncle’s attention back to helping me when I see Serafi watching the Kenna tribe in much the same way. Glancing around, I find myself to be the only one not paying attention to the interaction between our tribes. They look unsettled. Many of their faces contort into frowns as they look on in concern. Very few tribesmen are helping to set up the ger, instead waiting for the elders to finish their introduction.

Do the Kenna tribe have some unsavoury history with our tribe? Nobody looks hostile at least, so it’s probably nothing too bad.

Raised voices from the interaction between the leaders of our tribe reach my ears. Looking towards the elders, Elder Cyrus is loudly berating the Kenna elders, who look back at him with wide eyes and pale faces. The other elders seem just as furious as Cyrus, my pop has a deep scowl and seems to give off smoke. It is the closest I’ve ever seen him to losing control. What could possibly make him so mad?

“What kind of absolute fucking morons do you have to be to make such a dumb mistake!? Your greed and misjudgement have and will cause disaster to…” Elder Cyrus’s angry tirade is muffled by the hands abruptly covering my ears.

I scowl up at my uncle who looks back at me unapologetic. I’m old enough now that he shouldn’t be covering my ears because of a swear word. It’s embarrassing that he thinks I’m not mature enough.

I try to remove his hands from my head, but it is a futile effort; he won't let go.

When he finally lets me go, I hear the words of elder Cyrus as he and the other elders rejoin the tribe. “We are leaving. Pack your things back up. Those not packing go and collect as much timber as you can before we leave.”

Apparently, our history with the Kenna tribe is worse than I thought. I don’t remember elder Cyrus ever being so mad. I’ve seen him yell before, of course, but he is usually pretty careful with his words, so to hear him swear is rather shocking. It frustrates me being the only one not in the know, so I ask uncle Rivin. “What did they do? Why are we mad?”

“Something bad.” Is all he gives me. I wait a moment for him to elaborate before becoming impatient.

“Well? What is it?”

Uncle just remains quiet, not giving my question even a thought. Anger flares within me. Why does he not trust me? This is something important to our tribe, so why does he want to keep me in the dark?

Irritated, I storm off, planning to ask auntie Kay. I’m sure she’ll tell me, she’s pretty bad at lying.

As I approach her, I can tell even she is mad about what the Kenna tribe has done. “Auntie!” I call out to her.

“What did the Kenna tribe do? Uncle won't tell me.”

Auntie Kay looks at me, then looks over my shoulder. Turning around, I see she is looking at Uncle.

“I’m sorry Olvy. I shouldn’t say,” she looks sadly at me, but it irritates me more. Why does nobody trust me? I ball my fist and grit my teeth. My hands tremble in anger and a sense of helplessness washes over me.

The urge to run to my mummy and cry into her lap washes over me. But that does nothing but amplify the tangled knot of emotions within me. Anger, frustration and sadness well up in me and before I know it, my legs are moving. The sand passes beneath me as I run.

Straight out into the desert, I run. I don’t know what I’m doing or where I’m going, but I want to be alone. I run until my legs tire and slow, dropping to a walk, I keep moving. My body feels sluggish, exhaustion dulls the sharp edge of my ire. As I drag my feet across the sand, my dejection only stings more. I’m not truly a part of the tribe. They try to protect me, but it feels more like they see me as a burden than a valued member.

I look back and see that I’ve run a fair distance from the shipwreck. Our tribe has begun travelling to the left of the wreck. Looking towards the moon, I see I’ve been running north, so the tribe must be heading east.

Why east? Didn’t we come from that direction? Aren’t we heading west?

I can see Auntie following behind me, still almost a hundred metres away. Even if she comes to take me back, I don’t want to yet. The cold silence beckons me to return, but the frustration is likely to overwhelm me again should I not try to do something for myself; even if it is simply to travel by myself for a bit.

I turn my walk to the east, not enough that I close the distance with the tribe, but enough that I can keep them in sight.

I say nothing when Auntie catches up with me. I just continue walking. If she wants to take me back, she will, there is no way I’ll be able to stop her if she wants to carry me back forcefully.

Fortunately, she doesn’t do that. Instead, she matches my pace and walks beside me.

“Olvy, I’m sorry. We only want to protect you, ya know.”

“I know.” And I do know, but I don’t want them to protect me. I want them to be honest with me. I want them to trust me.

A few minutes pass with both of us walking in silence. I don’t want to talk, I want to walk and forget everything right now. I’m still hurt by auntie’s decision not to tell me so I don’t pay attention to her.

Auntie Kay eventually breaks the silence. “They gave them information.”

Not sure what she’s talking about, I can only let out a “huh?”

“The Kenna tribe sold the location of all our major resources to some strangers for those wagons they now have.” She looks me in the eye with a seriousness I haven’t seen in her before.

“Those wagons are of similar design to the weapons the group that attacked us had. The Kenna tribe gave the most likely locations any áed may travel to a group that is now hunting us.”

I look back at the shipwreck with disbelief. They are the reason my mummy is dead? It’s unbelievable. Did they sell out our race for a couple of shiny wagons? No, it is unreasonable to believe they did it on purpose, but we lost so many because they knew where we would be.

As horrible as it is to know that some of our own are the cause of our suffering, or at least contribute to it, it changes nothing.

“Thank you.” I appreciate her telling me, even if it’s bad news, I prefer to know than not to.

“For what?” she asks, confused. Maybe she never actually realised how I feel, then why tell me?

“You trust me enough to tell me. Nobody will trust me with anything. I am never expected to do anything for the tribe and when anything important happens, no one will tell me. Everyone protects me, but I can’t help but feel they do it because they have to, not because they consider me an actual part of the tribe.” I let out my concerns, clutching my arms together as I tell her.

Auntie pulls me into a hug, and I bury myself in her stomach.

“Olvy, of course we think of you as part of the tribe. You’re family.” She says while rubbing my back.

“I’m sorry we didn’t trust you. We wanted to keep the truth hidden so you wouldn’t be any more hurt or worried. Also, you are still young, nobody in the tribe is expected to participate until they reach adulthood. It’s still early for you.” She pauses for a moment, reaching forward and tilting my head up to meet her eyes.

“Look at your spear training. We have you learning so that you can do your part in the future. So whenever you feel neglected or rejected, focus your feelings on improving yourself. You should never worry about not being a part of the family. Even if you take years to contribute anything, you will never be an outsider. And you will never be unwanted.”

I look up into auntie’s eyes and see the concern she has for me. Maybe I am being silly, there is no reason to believe they won’t consider me family. But since my mum passed, I can’t help but feel like this.

My value to the tribe is nothing compared to those that we lost. It’s been constantly nagging at the back of my mind, I am scared they will see me as not worth the effort to keep around. I am scared I will be abandoned.

Maybe I’ve doubted myself and my position because of the way Pop has been treating me. I used to talk and play with him every day before the incident. But now? He won’t even look at me anymore. After losing mum, that feels like twisting a knife in the wound. It stung thinking about it.

I talk about them not trusting me, but I haven’t even done the same myself, have I? I haven’t trusted that they wouldn’t abandon me. But should I have ever worried about that?

Looking back, both Uncle and Auntie have done a lot for me without needing to. Uncle has been looking after me in a similar way my mum did, he makes sure I am eating and kindles my inner fire every night. Auntie has been trying to keep me happy and attempting to turn my thoughts away from mum.

I may still have doubts about how some in the tribe may see me, especially poppy, but I still should have trusted Uncle. I overreacted, and I should apologise to him.

But first I should do the same to auntie Kay.

“I’m sorry, auntie.”

She smiles at me and rises to her full height.

“C’mon, do you think you’re ready to head back?” she asks.

I nod and we are walking back towards the tribe. It’ll take a while to get back, so at least I’ll have some time to think how to apologise to uncle Rivin.