When Isa's child had returned to her, he came bleeding, limping, and by the expression he wore, bittersweet.
The morning mists had stayed, cold and clinging, and it was time that the hunting party should have returned by now, and the morning had been a good one, as Isa's brothers returned early with a good haul of fish. They were nearing the end of spring, as the fishermen reported, marked by the migration of the new spawns and the end of their fishing season. Summer was arriving in a matter of weeks.
The village was a cluster of sleeping cabins surrounded by a wooden palisade that stood low, adding to the protection provided by the natural uphill landscape. The landscape made it so that there was only one way in or out the valley, protected on all sides by mountains, save for a single pass down. The tarp they had made to smoke their various foods was just outside the palisade. Isa looked back at their summer home and took a deep breath.
Elder Lisi helped her daughter, making sure to give Isa the space to do the majority of the work. Her mother often helped her with these tasks as a way to talk with her daughter.
"He's a feral little one, you know. He likes to play rough with his cousins, too." Elder Lisi chuckled, side-eyeing her daughter. "Maybe he should be spending more time inside with us than outside with your wild husband?"
"What can I say?" Isa laughed. "I have a thing for strays. They're good boys if you feed them."
"Ha! My little animal tamer." The Elder looked away from the path up to their summer home and back to her daughter's work.
They had found him alone, cold, dirty and quite hungry. He had managed to sneak into their food house in their winter home. Some of the hunters had noticed that someone had been skirting around them throughout the Fall, making themselves scarce if the party tried to contact them. Some thought the presence to be a curious spirit. It was when Elder La'Lo had found him passed out from overeating. The Elder was a spiritual, honorable man, but he saw this strange thing to be just a child, scrawny save for the round belly of food just eaten, and sat next to him until he awoke. He said nothing at first, merely handing the boy his waterskin. The pale child spoke their language, and the Elder conversed with him for a while. No one knew what the conversation had consisted of, and the elder would not tell another soul even when asked. Yet when both walked out of the food house, he asked who would care for the boy while he worked to pay back the debt of all the food he had eaten. Isa stepped up and said she would. She knew her father, knew that this was how he made fair decisions. How could a child pay back a debt after all? This was to convince others, as well as to convince the child himself, to take a step back and view the family from a different perspective. Her father hid his heart through his duty, but not well enough to hide it from her.
"Remember, the trick is to let the fire die down. You want smoke, not heat. My first time smoking fish, I set the fish on fire." Her mother's voice shook Isa from her recollection.
"I'm aware, ama." Isa's tone was tired.
"You burnt the last one." Her mother pointed out.
"I'm aware, ama." She replied, more frustrated.
"We made you eat it." The elder chuckled at the glare her daughter gave her. Isa made sure to keep the pile of dried sticks nearby as she watched from inside the hut. The silence between them returned as Isa monitored the fire, lingering as they both listened to the crackling of the fire.
"You're worried. They're taking a while." Isa said, knowing her mother.
"Longer than usual."
"Good learning takes time. You used to love saying that."
Isa and her mother sat by the smoking fish inside the small structure. The fire was kept low as Isa maintained it inside the village's smoke tarp. A collection of sticks formed an upside-down cone that reached Isa's height, wrapped in animal hide. Inside, at arm's level, was a rack made of sticks tied together. Smoking the fish took time, and she and her mother monitored the progress over the low fire as it emitted smoke, allowing the flavor from the wood to soak into the fish. So long as they kept it dry, it would last them plenty of time.
"I would think he's had enough time. He is getting on in age. He's past time for his Firsts, and he needs to prepare for his Voyage."
"Ama," Isa chided, "You know my answer to this. He needs time."
"He is strange!" The Elder guffawed. "He learned to cook, climb, and sail faster than any of the other younglings! He is ready for manhood, but you and Hota coddle him. He has potential, and you squander it."
Isa laughed. The Elder spoke in a light tone, knowing the adoptive mother was fond of her child's strangeness. The Elder noticed, however, that her laugh fell short.
"He Is…" Isa shrugged, looking at her mother as her hands continued to move, smoothing out the wrinkles in her skirts. "Smart. Tough. But Reckless is scared of when it gets too dark or quiet. Wherever he was before he came to us, it did something to him. He learns fast, he is dedicated, but I know you see his eyes at night by the fire."
The Elder stared at her daughter, thoughts shifting behind her eyes as she mentally debated, before nodding. "A look that warriors have. Your father had that look before we had you. Yet, you said it yourself. He learns fast. That boy has brought good spirit to himself and us, yes, but the eidola would think him squandering all he has learned. Whatever he dealt with, it must have been something fierce."
"Sweet boy never shares it. He claims he doesn't remember, but there are other things he keeps to himself. Hota told me he excels at finding his way around the forests. He knows just the places to forage, and knows which tracks to avoid."
"Well," the Elder sighed, "if him opening up is your goal, then perhaps time is what he needs"
. .. . … . … . … . … . … .
Isa's son had returned to her injured.
A sharp whistle pierced the morning, and the village sprang excitedly to life to welcome back Hota and the seven young boys. Isa watched as her husband, Hota, came through the fog, several younglings following behind him. Some towed small catches, but two of the six carried a bundle of freshly caught Lepu on their backs, struggling to hold it between them. Tied together, Hota himself had a few new cuts, but thankfully, none were lethal. Trailing behind a few paces was Isa and Hota's son. His pale frame blended into the fog. What revealed him were his clothes stained with blood.
"Quite the stray you found." Elder Lisi muttered to her as they walked to welcome the group. "He can recover from injuries surprisingly efficiently. Maybe he really is the son of the Wailing Witch, like the other young ones say."
Hota slung his bow over his shoulder and embraced Isa tightly before pressing his nose and forehead to hers.
"It happened again." He muttered low.
"Did you have to step in?"
"There'd be a lot more red on him if I didn't. Found a whole burrow of quill snails." They separated, and he repeated the gesture to the elder, touching noses and foreheads.
"His cousins call him 'The Toako'. Pale, doesn't sleep, and knows the woods well. I think it fits!" Elder Lisi and Isa shared a chuckle. The name came from an old story of a pale spirit that would lead you astray in the woods, down the valley where it called home.
"With how he looks walking out of the trees, I can see why they call him that."
As their son walked closer, Isa noticed one of his arms was hanging limply, and he was dragging a closed bundle behind him.
"Did he carry all of them up here?"
"He insisted."
"With one arm? How did he-"
"He used his teeth." The glint in his eyes betrayed Hota's stoic expression. The closest thing Isa had ever seen to a laugh from him.
"Strange boy." Elder Lisi muttered, and Isa smiled at her. The Elder bent down to greet the boy as he walked up. Isa saw a hint of pride in his eyes when they met hers, but it was quickly hidden as he kept his eyes down. Grandmother greeted grandson, who then rushed to catch up with the other younglings.
"Quite the stray indeed."