All Living : A Seedvision Saga (9781621473923)

by Humphrey, Michael C.

  Kole whistled as he walked along. It was a skill he had taught himself, and one he was especially fond of. He loved the sound, the music, the way a tender blowing of air through the lips could rise up and elevate his mood. It was like a honey that could be poured over anything.

  He heard a rustling in the bushes behind him. He whistled louder and turned around, just in time to see his sheep, all seventeen of them, come bumbling out of the woods, bleary-eyed and wooly-headed.

  “Ah, there you are,” said Kole. “Come along now.” He smiled, pleased that his sheep seemed to know the sound of his whistle.

  After a bit of walking, he heard the giggling of two young girls even before he saw them. Their pristine voices were pure and charmed him into his parent’s camp, filling the air with delight.

  “Kole,” yelled the girls in unison, running to him as he appeared around the rocks that jutted out from the forested banks of the stream. He dropped his staff and held out his arms to them. They leaped simultaneously onto him, and he picked them both up, spinning them around.

  “Mimah! Nolia! My wonderful little skyfires. I don’t think a brother could have asked the Creator for two more beautiful sisters.”

  “I’m five,” said Mimah, “so I’m two summers more beautiful than her is,” pointing at her sister in the other arm.

  “Now, Mimah, you know I think you’re both beautiful. You practically stop my breath.”

  “Do you think Kesitah is beautiful too?” asked Mimah.

  Kole set his two little sisters down and looked over toward the fire that was burning in the center of a stone-lined cooking pit. His mother and his other sister stood staring at him with knowing smiles. His mom’s eyes sparkled with pride whenever she looked at her firstborn and Kesitah’s eyes twinkled with love. Kole took Mimah’s hand in his right hand and Nolia’s in his left and walked toward the two older women.

  “Mother, you look radiant today,” said Kole and kissed her on both of her cheeks.

  “My son,” said Eve, “how are you this morning?”

  “Fine, Mother. Ready to help Father catch some fish today.”

  “Well, as you can see, he has already been at it,” said Eve, indicating two large trout roasting on a spit over the fire. The fish filled the air with their scent and smelled delicious. Kole’s stomach growled despite the berries in his belly.

  Letting go of his two younger sisters’ hands, he turned toward Kesitah. “And good morning to you, Kes,” said Kole, reaching for her hand. She placed her slender hand delicately in his and blushed.

  “I’m pleased to see you this morning, Brother, as I am every morning. Please sit and rest yourself. Allow me the privilege of bringing you the first piece of fish from the fire,” Kesitah said, twirling a stray strand of her hair around her index finger.

  Kole lingered a moment with her hand in his, watching as she released the tendril of hair, and it sprang back up into a small curl. “You honor me, Sister.”

  Kesitah was a beautiful woman. A full seventeen summers, and she had blossomed into a stunning duplicate of her mother. Her dark, brown hair was highlighted naturally by the sun, and her skin was tanned like harvest wheat. She was slender as a young sapling and moved with grace, as if she had a secret agreement with the breeze.

  As the firstborn son, Kole would one day take her to be his wife, a day he was eager to see come. He watched her as she moved over to the fire and deftly removed a meaty portion of the fish, placing it on the center of a large palm leaf and cooling it for him with her breath. As she blew on the fish, Kole watched her lips and wondered if they might not taste even better than breakfast.

  “Kole,” Adam strode up to his son, appearing from out of nowhere with two more fish strung on a thick braid of grass and slung over his shoulder.

  “Father,” said Kole, turning to greet him. His dad was lean and fit, muscular by creation and honed into further perfection by thirty plus years of hard work. He was half a head taller than Kole, but their resemblance to each other was evident. Both had dark, brown hair, thick and wavy, strong jaw lines under full beards and piercing stares. But Adam’s eyes were a deep brown, penetrating and intelligent, while Kole’s eyes were a brilliant blue, thoughtful and sensitive, like his mother’s.

  The two men hugged each other and laughed. Kole loved his dad more than anything. He had learned from him and respected his father’s wisdom. The three boys, Kole, Cain, and Abel, each had inherited a bit of their father’s spirit, and together they had set out to dominate the world around them—catching animals to train for work or for food and hides, building shelters for shade, crafting simple tools to make the work easier and to pass the time, and lately, working on more effective ways to plant seeds. Adam had discovered that using the shoulder blade of a large animal could furrow the ground in long, straight rows, cutting through the earth much quicker than dragging a pointed stick over and over the same spot.

  It was hard work, but they were fruitful at it. Foraging for wild berries, nuts, and vegetables kept them alive, but planting seeds and having crops all in one place for easier gathering was of tremendous value. The boys had developed a bond with each other, with their parents, and with their sisters. There was no one else.

  “Where are your brothers, Kole?” Adam inquired.

  “I’m not sure, Father,” said Kole. “They should be along after a bit.”

  There had come a time, when Kole was about twenty-five summers that he had stopped staying at his parent’s camp. His brothers followed suit not long after. Kole had moved upstream a ways to a place he thought of as his own; a place that gave him a feeling of independence most young men inherently crave. There he would think and plan and build his tomorrows one dream at a time. He enjoyed the solitude and the feeling of being self-sufficient, but he also enjoyed the infrequent visits from his sister, Kesitah. Occasionally she would show up, under the guise of wanting to share with him some new combination of foods she had concocted, but after sampling her meal, they would often spend long afternoons talking about the future and gazing into each other’s eyes. Kole would carve birds for her out of wood while she made up stories and hummed melodies for him. They would stare at the sky and make pictures out of the clouds or watch flocks of birds and speculate what it might be like to fly. Their time together was filled with laughter and whispering and shy smiles. Each moment was a promise of things to come, and Kole wondered if his brothers were ever envious.

  Adam laid the fish he was carrying on a flat stone the family used as a table. Later, Eve and Kesitah would clean them using a sharp piece of flint to slice the meat off the bones, then cut it into strips for drying. Eve brought Adam a generous portion of the breakfast trout on a smooth piece of bark, along with some fresh strawberries that she and the girls must have picked that morning.

  Kole glanced over at his sheep while he ate. He had led them into a small, wooden stockade built next to the cliff face. Sturdy, young saplings had been cut down using sharp flint axes, and cris-crossed to form a three-sided, zigzagged fence against the rock outcropping. Kole loved his sheep and could call them all by name if he needed. He and Abel tended several rams and ewes and had raised many in their flocks from spring lambs. Cain, on the other hand, like their dad, had only a few animals that he bred, preferring to follow God’s initial instructions to dress a garden and keep it. Both Adam and Cain had proven to be deft farmers, coaxing the ground outside the garden to yield fruits and vegetables both varied and delicious.

  The family was finishing their meal when Cain and Abel arrived, nearly at the same time but from opposite directions.

  “Well, there are my other boys,” said Eve, setting down her food to get them something from the fire to eat. “Just enough left for you two sleepy heads.”

  “Thank you, Mother,” said Abel, rubbing the last of the sleep from his eyes with one hand and brushing his hair back from his fo
rehead with the other. “It smells delicious.”

  Cain glanced around at the family but remained stoic, walking instead directly to the stream and proceeding to wash black dirt from his hands and arms. He splashed water onto his face and beard, then down the back of his neck. Standing up, he shook his head and beads of water flew from his thick, black hair causing Nolia to shriek and giggle, then run behind her mother.

  Cain grinned. “Good morning to you all. I see you have eaten and not waited for those of us who rise early to tend to chores that cannot be put off.”

  “And what might you have had to tend to so early this morning, son?” asked Adam, hoping for a more respectful greeting from Cain toward his mother.

  “Some of the seeds I have planted have begun to sprout and need more water than an early morning mist can provide,” Cain instructed Adam. “I’ve noticed if I wait until later in the day to do it, the newest leaves just burn off in the sun. Wait a second, I brought you all something.”

  Cain returned to the edge of the nearby woods and retrieved a basket he had hidden before entering the camp. He presented it to his mother. Eve took the basket and gasped at the beautiful colors; fruits of ripe reds, deep greens, and meadow yellows arranged purposefully, artistically, to enhance the presentation. Around the edges of the basket blue wild flowers had been woven to frame the natural splendor. Natural except that Cain knew that nothing that large and eye-pleasing would have grown naturally outside the garden. Cain prided himself on the results he could achieve with a little sweat of his brow.

  “These are lovely, Cain,” said Eve clearly impressed with her son. She showed them to all the girls while Abel rolled his eyes. Cain caught the look and gritted his teeth. His younger brother irritated Cain sometimes, not just that he lay around most of the day napping with his sheep and considering it to be actual work but mostly that he couldn’t admit that Cain was good at what he did, probably even better than Adam.

  “How did you ever get the fruits so big?” Eve asked, ignoring the obvious tension between the two.

  “I have discovered, Mother, that growing certain plants together helps each to prosper. The plants seem to help and encourage each other, almost like brothers should,” Cain said with a glance toward his father. “For instance, the corn grows taller when the squash grows around its base and prevents other things from growing near. The beans are longer and thicker when they can climb up the corn stalk rather than tangling around on the ground. I plant them in small mounds too, instead of in rows like you do, Dad. It gives them more room to breathe.” Cain drank in the attention from his family and grinned. “I call it the three sister’s method. I’d be willing to show any of you who would like to come to my camp and see how I do it,” Cain offered, casting a hopeful eye at Kesitah.

  “I’d love for you to show me that sometime, Cain,” said Adam, “but not today. Today we have plans to catch and dry some fish.” Adam hoped to change the subject. He would easily admit that his son had a natural proclivity toward growing things, but Adam had noticed a bit of something in Cain’s attitude that was beginning to disturb him. Cain seemed to be distancing himself from the family. Adam couldn’t quite name what it was, which was odd. He was very good at naming things.

  “I…uh…I’d be glad to help you, father,” said Abel. “I…uh…just want to check in on my sheep first. I left them back at my camp, and I don’t want any to wander away.”

  Adam nodded with understanding.

  “I have a few more things to tend to first as well, Father,” said Cain.

  Adam sighed.

  “I’ll help you, Father, if you’ll have me,” said Kesitah. “If Mother can do without me for these first two fish,” she added, indicating Adam’s stringer.

  “Of course, dear,” said Eve.

  “That will be fine, Kes,” said Adam. “Coming Kole?” asked Adam.

  “Right behind you, Father,” Kole said, rising to his feet.

  The family broke up, each heading in their own directions.

  Adam, Kole, and Kesitah walked together along the bank of the stream toward a shallow beach that dropped off into deep pools where many fish gathered, each thinking their own thoughts; Adam wishing his other two sons would cooperate more with him and their mother, Kole wondering why his brothers tended to be such loners, and Kesitah hoping she’d get a chance to splash Kole in the icy water.

  The three of them each picked up a spear from the pile that Adam had sharpened, and waded into the water. Then Adam changed his mind.

  “I’ve got a better idea,” said Adam. “We’ll catch more fish with the net. It’s right there under that bush. Can you fetch it, Kes?” Adam pointed. Kesitah waded back out of the shallows and stooped to retrieve the net. She tossed it in to Adam.

  “Very good. Now Kole and I will stretch it across the stream, and if you will walk upstream along the bank a bit before you get in the water, we should be able to manage a nice haul.”

  Kesitah turned and headed back the way they had come, her long legs taking confident strides. Both Adam and Kole watched her in the early morning light.

  “She’ll make a fine mate one day, Son,” said Adam, glancing at Kole.

  “Just what I was thinking,” said Kole to his father.

  “It will be good to have more young ones running about,” Adam speculated.

  Kole, lost in deep thought, made no reply.

  “Okay, I’m ready,” Kesitah yelled from two hundred cubits upstream.

  Adam tossed one end of the net he had fashioned from long, dried grasses to Kole, and they stretched it across the water letting the lower half, tied with stones, sink to the sandy bottom.

  “Okay, Kes. Make lots of noise, and start toward us.”

  Kesitah started walking toward them, splashing and singing in a loud voice. Below the surface of the water, Kole could imagine the fish, frightened out of their morning lethargy, darting away from the source of the disturbance. As Kesitah drew near, Kole could feel the tension on the net increasing as more and more fish swam into it. In one coordinated effort, both father and son bent and lifted the bottom corners of the net up and out of the water. The braided grass of the net strained with the weight of the stream fish. They carried it together up the small beach and opened it flat on the ground. A quick count showed thirteen large, silvery fish glistening and flopping about. Adam snatched up a couple of corded ropes, handing one to Kole, and they began to string up their catch.

  “Good work, my daughter,” said Adam. “This should keep you ladies busy this afternoon.”

  “Yes, Father,” said Kesitah, willing but not too eager to clean the slippery catch.

  “A good haul, you three,” said Cain, ambling out of the woods. “Looks like you didn’t need my expertise after all.”

  “True, Cain,” said Adam. “Perhaps you’d like to help the women with the cleaning and cooking. I’m sure you’ll want to help with the eating later.”

  Cain laughed. “This is true, Father. But I will not be available for women’s work this day. The Lord has truly blessed my efforts in the field, and today I build an altar to give an offering.”

  “Cain, we have always offered together as a family,” reminded Adam.

  “Yes, Father, but I must give as I am able, and there has been much abundance this spring. I give a freewill offering of thanks today.”

  Adam, as head of his family, had always made the offerings, but the boys were growing into fine men and would one day soon serve as heads of their own families. Adam nodded his approval.

  “May the Lord be pleased with your offering, Cain.”

  “Oh, he will Father,” said Cain, glancing at Kesitah’s wet silhouette. “Hello, sister. You seem more at home in the water than the fish you are attracting.”

  Kesitah blushed and looked down at herself. “Thank you, Brother.”

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nbsp; Kole watched the exchange with a half-smile, as Cain spun on his heel and headed back into the woods to the clearing where he had his gardens.

  While Kesitah busied herself checking the net for any tears or weak points, Adam and Kole finished stringing the fish and tied them to the bank, letting the fish dangle in the water until they were ready to clean them.

  Adam was readying the net for a second attempt when Abel showed up. “Greetings family,” he said with a hearty wave.

  They looked up at him.

  “Hi, Abel,” said Kesitah. “How are your sheep today?”

  “All accounted for, my lovely sister. Would you like to inspect them with me?”

  For Kesitah, it was a day of blushing.

  “We are nearly ready for another go with the net, Brother,” said Kole before Kesitah could take Abel up on his offer, “care to join us?”

  “I would have expected to see Cain here by now,” answered Abel. “Has he not come yet to show you all a better way to fish?”

  “Abel, enough jesting at your brother’s expense,” warned Adam.

  “Sorry, Father.”

  “Cain has it in mind to offer a sacrifice to the Lord today,” Kole informed his youngest brother. “He was here briefly but left without getting his feet wet.”

  “An offering? Can he do that, Father? I mean, we have always looked to you to give the offerings for us. Will God allow it?”

  “Abel, you and Cain and Kole are men now. You live on your own and establish your own daily routine. God expects me to teach you to be teachers of your own children one day. Today Cain is taking a step toward that end. I will ask God to bless his efforts.”

  “This is good news, Father. I too have nurtured a young lamb with special care to offer to the Lord. I will go find my brother and share in this good thing with him.”

  “Abel, we would be glad for your help here,” Kole said.