In The Beginning

by Richard Webber

  Chapter Eleven

  My family was the people of God. This was an indisputable fact. My parents had been created by God Himself and had once been blessed by Him. Even though they had done something wrong and fallen from His favor, that did not change who we were and would continue to be.

  Even what I had done to my brother, as wrong as it was, still did not change that like my parents I was one of the people of God.

  As little as my father had told me about the other humans in the world, the people I now walked with, I had learned they were different from us. I knew that God had not created them for the same reasons He had created my parents, to have dominion over the earth.

  Although he tried to hide it, even in the little my father had spoken of these people I realized he did not consider them our equals. It was apparent that he was glad he no longer needed to interact with them.

  I thought back over the morning; how they spoke, what they ate, their behavior and the way they treated each other. The only reason I could think of that would have caused God to create my parents separate and different from these people was because He wanted us to be their leaders.

  I considered some of the most obvious differences I had noted so far between our two races. I was tall, well built and fair of form and feature. I was fleet, strong and my eye was keen. My voice in speech and in song was strong, rich and melodious. In my travels I had found a strength and endurance that had shocked even me. From what I could see, in all physical aspects I was vastly superior to these people.

  I believed that I was also their superior intellectually. Their crude and rudimentary verbal skills were shocking. They obviously could understand one another and had developed a working language based on a number of main words, but it was inherently limited. From what I had seen so far, speech seemed to be used only when it was required. I had yet to hear a social exchange of words between any of those walking with me.

  When I was still with my family, the discussion was virtually nonstop, often to my dismay. The multitude of issues we talked about ranged from the weather and the beauty of creation, to our health and what we would have for dinner. Of course there were times of quiet and meditation, but it seemed like my family never ran out of things to discuss.

  Not so here. Walking with these people one would never realize that they even knew each other. There was no talking whatsoever unless I initiated it, which I did with increasing frequency to teach them words in my language.

  The differences between me and the people I walked with were as obvious as the day is different from the night. They were considerably shorter than me, and they were slim and rangy while I was broad and muscular. They had long, black, unkempt hair and dark, almost black, eyes, while both my hair and eyes were brown. Our skin coloring was the same now that they were cleaned up. We both had a complexion that was light brown, and our facial structure and posture were also the same.

  My clothing was a finely woven tunic of wool, and I wore sturdy leather sandals on my feet. I had knotted about my waist a belt which held my sheath and fine blade of stone with the beautifully carved wooden handle. When my father had given me the knife many years before he had bade me to use it well. I had failed him in that request.

  The people I walked with were dressed nothing like me. They wore rough animal skins crudely stitched together with leather cords, with their knives thrust under the wide leather straps that were tied about their waists. They all walked barefoot, apparently unaffected by any rocks they trod upon.

  The weapons they carried were as crude as their clothing. They used an inferior type of stone that I had not seen before for the blades of their knives and the tips to their throwing weapons. The stone did not flake smoothly, which meant the edges would not stay sharp and the tips were not well shaped. The long shafts of their throwing weapons were not straight or smooth. I felt confident the weapons would not fly through the air straight or reach the target with accuracy over a longer distance. Inaccuracy would obviously impair their ability to bring food back to their tribe.

  Their knives were also of poor quality. Not long, slim and beautifully shaped like mine, but short, thick and blunt. They used a piece of horn for a handle, lashed onto the blade. Functional but not attractive, like the people themselves, I thought. Looking at their crude weapons, I was not surprised that they were returning home with only a few rabbits for food.

  I was quite curious to find out how the woman had caught the rabbits. She had no weapons that I could see beyond her knife and the leather straps she had been holding in her hand when I first saw her. She had tucked the straps into her belt when we started walking, and upon closer examination I noticed they were more involved than just a simple strap. I decided I would ask her about them later when I could speak with her alone, as I did not want to stir up any more dissension among them right now.

  I wondered how many people lived at their home. We were returning with only three rabbits, and I assumed they would normally want to return with a larger animal to eat, such as a deer or boar, in order to provide food for all their people. Watching them as we walked, I did not see how it was possible for them to kill a large animal, given their size and the weak weapons they carried. I was interested in learning how they caught their food, perhaps they had special techniques that allowed them to approach the prey, or perhaps they trapped it or cornered it in chase.

  I believed that the women of this tribe were not supposed to hunt, and assumed this was their rule because hunting was considered a dangerous activity. Since their weapons were so rudimentary, I would guess that the animals were killed at close range, and a trapped or wounded boar would easily be able to kill these people if they were not careful. I began to understand why they did not want a woman hunting with them, but I thought the problem was not the gender of the hunters, but the weapons they were using.

  These people needed better weapons. I didn’t see how they could kill anything with the ones they were now carrying. It didn’t matter whether you were hunting, farming, cooking or cleaning; a person needed a good tool to do the job correctly. I would need to show them how to make a decent knife, and I would also make them a stronger and more accurate throwing weapon.

  If I was going to lead these people, I could not allow them to starve, no matter how abhorrent their food was to me. Everything I had seen about these people so far, from their language to their clothing and their weapons, indicated that while they had potential and some intelligence and ability, they needed leadership and innovative thinking.

  Their personal hygiene, clothing and weapons; everything I saw indicated a culture which either consciously resisted change, or lacked the drive to do things better. I had been attempting to converse and teach them as we walked, and I had seen both intelligence and active minds in the two younger people. The two older hunters seemed to have a more limited but still strong potential to learn, but obviously had no desire to converse with me. Still, as the day went on I became more positive about the type of people I would find when we reached their tribe.

  I was asked to stop speaking, and from the way we were stealthily moving through the forest, I understood that they were hoping to come upon some animals. We paused frequently as the men would look and listen for signs of life. Though we had now been walking for quite some time, we had seen or heard nothing.

  Though I really had no desire to kill anything, and in fact the idea was detestable to me, I realized how important meat was to these people. I knew that should the opportunity present itself, I would need to help them get food for their home. Getting food would allow me another way to show how valuable I could be to them.

  I did not want to show them I was a hunter as much as I wanted to prove I could and would help them survive and thrive as a tribe. It was imperative that they believe I was able to do everything at a very high level; that my talents, abilities, and intelligence were unmatched. I needed these people to believe in me so absolutely that they did not question anything I did or told them to do.
My success, as well as the success I planned to bring to their tribe was predicated on my ability to gain absolute and unquestioned authority.

  Apparently we had come to a good hunting spot, and at the leader’s request we stopped and all listened intently, but even I had heard nothing. We had just started walking again, silent and cautious, when it happened. A huge deer sprang from the heavy brush on our right side, running directly across our path. This was what I had been hoping for.

  Since our water break I had carried a large rock in my hand, anticipating this situation. The rock was the perfect size for throwing, about the diameter of a small apple, round and smooth.

  I did not think. In less time than it takes to blink an eye, I reacted. I threw the stone, hard and true. It sped through the air and contacted the deer exactly where I had aimed, just under the ear.

  The deer feel like a sack of stones, either stunned or dead. The entire episode had happened so quickly that my companions had not even lifted their weapons from their sides; they had barely registered that the animal was there. The deer had fallen only twenty paces from me. I ran to the animal and felt its neck; there was no throbbing, no movement of blood under its skin. It was dead.

  Though I knew it was imperative that I do this in front of them to demonstrate my power, it still made me feel sick to kill an animal for food. But I accepted that I would need to do things I did not want to do, things I did not even believe in, in order to reach my goals. I took a deep breath, set my shoulders, and turned back to them.

  “It’s dead” I said.

  I was not proud of what I had done, but I was pleased with myself. I was conscious of how important animals were to these people. They wore their skins for clothing, and I wouldn’t be surprised if meat was their main source of food; it was probably the difference between life and death for them.

  Even more important to me, I had been the one to get this food, and I had done it in a way that was almost miraculous to them. I watched my companions as I slowly walked back to where they had stopped, frozen in surprise.

  Yes, I thought, meat was important. But even more important to me was the response I had gotten from my companions. They all stood still, staring at me, disbelief at what they had seen showing on their faces. I could see awe and respect in the eyes of the woman and the man I was becoming friendly with. In the eyes of the other two men I saw only fear.

  They feared me even more than before, because they had seen a tangible reason that proved they should fear me, and this was much more intimidating than me catching a weapon out of the air. It was not some mark upon my forehead, a mark that they didn’t understand. No, now they feared me because they had seen a powerful example of what I was capable of.

  While they had barely realized a deer was present, faster than their eyes could follow I had reacted, and in the blink of an eye I had thrown a stone twenty paces with shocking accuracy and enough strength to instantly kill a large adult deer.

  I believed they now understood how different I really was from them. They knew they could not kill me even if they wanted to, and they knew that I could kill them with ease in an instant. They may not have been smart, but they realized their hold on life could be very tenuous if I was not their ally, and this realization made them fear me even more.

  I had no idea what needed to be done to the animal to allow it to be eaten. I didn't know if it was ready to be carried to their village, if it needed to be prepared in some way, or if they had a ceremony or sacrifice to honor the death of the animal. The only thing I could do was turn the animal over to them.

  I looked at the leader, and pointing at the deer said, “For your people to eat.”

  I repeated myself slowly to make sure they understood what I was doing, that I was giving this bounty to them.

  Their expressions quickly changed to looks of joy as they understood what I had done. It had happened quickly, but with my words they realized I had killed the animal for them. They would be able to return home with a large kill, and I could see the relief in their eyes, knowing that they could return successfully to their tribe.

  All four quickly went to the animal and knelt over it, apparently examining it to make sure it was really dead. There seemed to be a brief pause and a moment of silence, though it happened so quickly I wasn’t sure. Suddenly, with no discussion on their part, the leader pulled out his knife and slit the neck of the deer. The blood gushed forth in a stream that turned my stomach, making me feel instantly sick. I had to turn away; I could not bear to see all that blood.

  The sight immediately brought back the last time I had seen blood flowing so freely. It had been the day of my brother’s death; the day I killed him.