Hunyak breaks the silence by saying. "Old man Luban is the blacksmith. He makes our weapons, our tools. He works the metal, but also the bones, the wood, whatever the village needs."
Only one guy who does everything. That's a bottleneck right there. Must be a very busy guy.
"Anyone else who can make bows?"
Hunyak glances at Binalig, who exhales before answering. "I can make bows, but if you want metal arrowheads or spearheads, you'll have to commission them from Luban."
Evan looks at Binalig with surprise. Oh cool, guess she is a warrior then. "Can I ask for your help to make me a bow?"
Binalig gives him a skeptical look. "You planning to hunt?"
"Well, from what you told me, farming's a bust. Weaving is off the table. I'm not a blacksmith nor a potter. And I'm definitely not in the mood for another pearl dive. That leaves hunting. What animals are valuable enough for tribute? Deer?"
Binalig crosses her arms, eyeing Evan like she's deciding whether he's worth the effort. "Deer, yes. Wild boar too. But a single animal won't be enough unless it's big." She tilts her head slightly. "Furs, hides, and horns are valuable. Dried meat, if prepared well, lasts longer and is worth more."
She glances at him up and down. "But hunting isn't just shooting an arrow. You need to track, to know where the animals move, when they drink, where they sleep. And you" she gestures at him, "don't look like a hunter."
Evan sighs. "Fair point. The Datu said there'll be a training session in three days, so I just need to be as prepared as possible. Any chance you can help me?"
Hunyak's eyes sparkled with excitement as she turned to Binalig. "Yes, yes, she can! She's the greatest archer in the village, her skill is unmatched! She can strike a wild boar between the eyes from a hundred paces, even as it charges."
Hunyak grinned, confidence brimming in her voice. "So yes, she can. And she will."
Evan turned to Binalig with a relieved smile. "Wow, that's great! With your help, we'll get that tribute done in no time."
Binalig let out a long sigh, glancing between Hunyak and Evan before finally taking the sugarcane from Evan's hands. "Fine. But first, we plant. Just because this harvest won't make it in time for the tribute doesn't mean we can't prepare for the next one. So, what's it going to be, rice or sugarcane?"
Evan hesitated for a moment, then asked, "Can it be both? Maybe rice in the middle of the field and sugarcane along the borders to help keep animals out?"
Hunyak shook her head. "Near the hut, maybe. But for the land by the river? That won't work, sugarcane won't grow if it keeps getting flooded."
With that, she stood up and motioned for Hunyak to follow. "We'll find you a basic bow to start your training."
Hunyak shot Evan an awkward bow before Binalig practically dragged her out of the hut. Evan just watched them go, then turned his attention back to the supplies. Among the sacks of grain and dried fish, a small pile of golden mangoes caught his eye.
"Oh? They didn't even mention mango cultivation. Is this rarer than I thought? Do they have dried mangoes here?" He grabbed one and peeled it with his teeth, letting the sweet, sticky juice coat his fingers as he sucked on the fibrous flesh. The rich, honeyed taste made his brain wander.
"Would this taste better if I dried it, soaked it in sugarcane juice, then dried it again? I should ask if they already have dried mangoes, but even if they don't, sugarcaned dried mangoes have to be an improvement, right? Sweeter, chewier… caramelization and all that." He chewed thoughtfully, already picturing the glossy, golden treat in his mind.
His gaze drifted back to the pile of fruit. A bunch of bananas sat nearby, their speckled peels hinting at ripeness. "Banana chips, huh?" He tapped one against his palm. "Maybe that could work, too."
Evan mulled over the possibilities, his mind buzzing with snack ideas as he devoured the mango, its sticky juice trailing down his wrist.
"Yeah... I'm definitely gonna need that bath after this."
Hunyak
Hunyak walked alongside Binalig as they reached the outskirts of the village, the dense jungle humming with life around them. She kept her eyes sharp, scanning for a good piece of wood that could be used for Aso's bow.
Spotting a relatively straight stick on the ground, she bent down to pick it up, testing its sturdiness between her fingers.
Before she could examine it further, Binalig's irritated voice cut through the air. "What are you doing?"
Hunyak straightened, holding up the stick. "Well, this seems straight enough to be an arrow."
Binalig let out a long sigh, crossing her arms. "We are not making a bow for that dog."
Hunyak frowned. "Don't call him that. He said his name is… Eban? Iban? I'm not sure yet, he speaks weirdly."
Binalig barely acknowledged her words. Her voice was firm, unwavering. "We're leaving. As soon as he steps out of the hut, we take his supplies and go. I'll take care of you out there. I may have only one arm, but I can still fight if I have to."
Hunyak stared at her, stunned. "I told you, we cannot leave. Don't you have any honor? We owe the Datu a debt of gratitude. He raised us like his own."
Binalig's jaw tightened. "And now he gave us away. I owe the Datu, yes, but not the dog."
Hunyak's grip clenched into fists. "That's not how it works. The Datu entrusted us to serve the foreigner. That is our duty. To not do your duty is to invite calamity on yourself. Do you want to become a monster?"
Binalig snorted. "Please, that's a myth. Dinaanod didn't turn into some flying monster. He was exiled."
Hunyak leaned in, her voice urgent. "Then how do you explain what happened after he left? The rumors of a winged creature, swooping down on villages, snatching livestock? Exactly a full moon after he was exiled. And no one ever found him. Not even the Rajah."
Binalig let out another dismissive snort. "That's what exile is. He probably wandered too close to the river and got dragged under by crocodiles. That's why no one found him, because there was nothing left to find."
Hunyak leaned in, undeterred. "Then what about Babaylan Hanibon? She poisoned her Datu's son and turned into a manananggal. Or Datu Baylon, he drowned his own father, Datu Bakulon, and now his entire village is cursed. They became siyokoy, doomed to wander the ocean depths, never allowed to set foot on land again. And Dayang Habuni, she killed her mother-in-law and gave birth to a tiyanak. That thing devoured five villagers before the Rajah put it down." She held Binalig's gaze. "You know what happens to those who break their debts."
Binalig let out a slow breath. "Those are just stories, Hunyak."
Hunyak's expression hardened. "It is known, Binalig. We were raised on these truths. You used to be so scared of tiyanak you couldn't even make rain alone."
Binalig sighed again, shaking her head. "We were children, Hunyak. We were scared of everything."
Hunyak shook her head, exasperated. "Please, just listen. Why do you even want to leave? We have everything here. The land is rich, the warriors are strong, the spirits speak through the babaylan." She gestured around them. "So what if you can't pull a bowstring anymore? You still have a place here. We still have a place here. There's so much you can do, so much we can do."
Binalig's gaze hardened, but there was something else there too, something Hunyak rarely saw. Uncertainty.
Hunyak pressed on, her voice softer now. "Please, Binalig. Don't do this. I know you yearn for something more, for glory, for recognition. But don't throw everything away. Everyone knows you are the best archer in the village."
Binalig's expression darkened, her jaw tightening. "And what good is that now? What's the use of being the best if I don't even have the arm to draw a bow?" Her voice wavered for a moment before she spat out, "Curse this life."
Hunyak's throat tightened, her vision blurring. "Are you… are you regretting saving me from the crocodile?"
Binalig stilled. Then, with a sigh, she pulled Hunyak into a one-armed embrace, holding her close. "Of course not." Her voice was quieter now, raw with frustration. "I just hate that I wasn't strong enough to save you without losing my arm."
Hunyak clutched the fabric of Binalig's tunic, pressing her face into her shoulder. "You were strong enough," she whispered.
Binalig sighed "No I'm not". But she made no further attempt at conversation and just held Hunyak's frail form for a while.
"Fine," Binalig muttered. Then her lips curled into a smirk. "But if that dog tries anything, I will geld him."
Hunyak let out a breath of relief, though a nervous laugh slipped out. "Fair enough."
Binalig motioned for her to follow. "Come on, let's go to Luban first. The spear and arrowheads will take time so we must take care of it first."
Hunyak adjusted her grip on the bundle of freshly cut sticks as she and Binalig made their way back to Aso's hut. Some were thin and straight, ideal for arrows, while others had the flexibility and strength needed for a bow.
The afternoon sun beat down on them, and with Aso nowhere in sight, they ducked inside the hut to rest. The moment they settled onto the woven mat, exhaustion took over. Without thinking, they curled up together, their bodies seeking comfort in the familiarity of each other's embrace.
They awoke abruptly to the sound of Aso's shouts outside. Blinking the sleep from her eyes, Hunyak sat up just as Binalig muttered a curse. They stumbled out of the hut to find Aso holding a poorly assembled bow, the wood uneven and the fiber awkwardly knotted.
Binalig didn't hesitate, she strode forward and snatched the misshapen bow from his hands. "What in the spirits' names is this supposed to be?" she asked, inspecting the rough craftsmanship with thinly veiled disdain.
Aso scratched the back of his head, looking sheepish. "I figured I'd get a head start," he admitted.
Binalig clicked her tongue, already unsheathing a small blade. With practiced ease, she set to work, shaving away the excess wood, smoothing out the unevenness, shaping the bow bit by bit into something actually useful. Hunyak chuckled as Aso stood to the side, watching with the look of a scolded child.
Once the basic form was assembled, Binalig thrust it into Aso's hands. "Before you even think about shooting, you need to strengthen your draw," she said, already looping a strip of braided fiber into a makeshift exercise band. "Hold this in front of you, keep your elbow straight, and pull back slowly. Shoulders down."
Aso frowned but mimicked her movements, adjusting his stance as he pulled against the resistance. Hunyak could see his muscles twitch from the unfamiliar motion.
"Good. Now do it fifty more times," Binalig said, arms crossed.
Aso groaned but didn't argue.
Hunyak smirked as she turned away, leaving them to their training. She had her own work to do.
She tied back her hair, gripped the wooden digging stick, and drove its pointed tip into the earth. The Datu had taught them this method, reminding them that if they ever became wealthy enough, they might afford animals to do the tilling. But until then, the work rested on their own hands.
The first few strikes into the hard-packed dirt were always the worst, but she settled into a rhythm, twisting the tool to loosen the soil before moving on. The heat of the afternoon clung to her skin, and soon, sweat trickled down her back.
The thud-thud of her digging must have caught Aso's attention.
"Whoa, whoa, do we really need to do that right now?" he asked, pausing mid-rep to stare at her.
Hunyak wiped her brow and shrugged. "No time like the present."
Aso hesitated, glancing at Binalig, who merely raised an eyebrow at him. He let out a breath, then stood. "Shouldn't we help her?"
Binalig barely spared him a glance as she continued working. "She's strong. She doesn't need help. We have our own tasks to finish."
Hunyak continued her work, rhythmically driving the wooden digging stick into the soil. Each thrust broke apart the earth, loosening it to prepare for planting. Her shoulders ached, her grip faltered slightly, and sweat dripped from her chin. After several passes across the field, she feels exhaustion set in and she moves towards the two.
She dips into the earthen jar and greedily scoops up the water. Feeling the cool water drench her thirst, she looks at the field. Only a small area of the land is tilled. That's good enough for an afternoon of work.
Binalig sat nearby, sharpening arrowheads with the same quiet intensity she had when carving the bow. Each stroke of her blade against the metal was precise, deliberate. Aso, on the other hand, sat hunched over, rubbing his sore arms like a man who had just been through war, though in reality, it was just Binalig's training.
Hunyak turned her attention to preparing their meal. She rinsed the rice in an earthen pot, adding just enough water before setting it over the fire. While waiting, she cleaned the fish, gutting and skewering them before placing them on the open flames. The rich, smoky scent of charring skin filled the air as she carefully turned them over, ensuring they cooked evenly.
When the food was ready, she portioned it out and handed it to the other two. They ate in near silence, too exhausted from the day's labor to bother with much conversation.
The silence was broken only by Aso's odd questions:
"Do you have dried mangoes here? Little thin strips of mango that are sweet?"
"Has anyone ever tried putting a bow on a stick? You know, so you don't have to keep the bowstring taut with your arms. Just pull it back, set it on a notch, and release when you're ready to fire."
"Have you ever seen a pineapple? A fruit covered in prickly skin with eyes all over it?"
By the time dinner was over, Hunyak and Binalig had grown so accustomed to his bizarre thoughts that they simply resorted to the same automatic response.
"No, we've never heard of that," they'd say, barely batting an eye.
Night settled over the village, and by midnight, Hunyak and Binalig stirred awake.
They slipped outside, where the moon hung in the sky, its light softer but still enough to cast shadows across the ground.
Hunyak and Binalig gathered a few stones outside and made a small altar of stones then placed a carved wooden figure in front of them. "For the ancestors," she murmured.
Binalig bowed her head, and together, they offered herbs, whispering words of gratitude for guidance and protection. The air was cool, filled with the distant hum of crickets and rustling palm leaves.
When the ritual was done, Hunyak turned back toward the hut. Aso was sprawled on his sleeping mat, snoring lightly.
Binalig smirked. "Seems his ancestors don't wake him up."
Hunyak let out a quiet chuckle. "Must be nice."
They exchanged a look, then slipped back inside, letting the night wrap around them once more.