Cjiena: Beginnings

by Patrice Caraway

  Turning, I dropped the head before kicking it as far as I could and was satisfied to see the camps dogs already attacking it with a frenzy as it bounced away. A small bit of triumph filled me. I felt relief for the first time that I could remember.

  The Mother had seemed to leave me, as once more I now had control over my limbs, however her power still coursed through me, and I felt lightheaded.

  It was only then that I realized that the camp lay in a deathly silence. All around me, men laid at my feet, their blood mingling with each other’s and the ground on which they lay. Although my breathing was heavy, I noticed I was hardly weary.

  I turned around to survey the camp and saw in the tree line the few remaining men, with the woman and children huddled in the shadows behind them. I could hear their minds’ plea that my wraith had been abated with my Uncle’s death.

  I felt sorry for a moment, and went towards them, perhaps to offer some sort of an apology, when a young woman stepped forward, her hair disheveled, her cheeks stained with tears, as she clutched an older babe in her arms.

  Her eyes were dark and cold. She watched me carefully as she raised a knife that had been strapped to her side. Since it was normally used for tanning hide, I had no doubt of its sharpness. “Are you here to kill us?” Her voice wavered but resonated a memory deep inside of me.

  “Kill the demon, kill the monster”

  My face hardened as she continued to berate me, calling me names that I had been called so many times and for so long. Memories of the continuous tormenting done at the hands of my cousin throughout the years flooded me. I held my fists by my side in anger, trying desperately to hold it back. I faintly remembered her getting married. I hadn’t paid any attention to the life she had led. I guessed that the child in her arms was hers.

  “I never killed anyone who didn’t deserve it.” I replied gruffly.

  “You killed my husband and my father,” she spat at me. “I always knew you for what you were, a monster!” she screamed at me

  A cold rage filled me as I clenched my fists tighter and gritted my teeth. “Am I? Or is that what you made me?”

  She flinched as though I had slapped her across the face, and for a moment I thought she would back down, but as I turned away, she regained her composure. “We should have killed you when we had the chance.”

  Something snapped inside me in that moment. Perhaps the fury of the Great Mother still coursed through my veins, or perhaps the constant torture my cousin had caused me all these years just became too much, but in that moment, I charged Khata.

  She lifted her knife in defense, but it could not deter me. I wrenched her child from her hands and threw it as hard as I could behind me. It cried as it sailed through the air. There was a loud thump, and then there was silence.

  I will give one thing to Khata, even when faced with death, she showed no fear. She was defiant. Clumsily seeking to stab me, I grabbed the knife from her hands and turned it upon her. I let my rage consume me, stabbing her over and over. I used her body as my own vengeance, just as the Great Mother had used mine to deliver hers. Even when she was dead, I continued to stab her.

  A hand reached out to touch my shoulder, I instantly turned around and stabbed out wards, still blinded by my anger.

  “It is over,” the voice murmured. My anger immediately fell away as chief's wife held onto me. “And now I can go be with my husband” she said dreamily as she stared into the sky overhead.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered, but she merely smiled in response as the light faded from her eyes.

  Gently, I reached out and closed her eyes. Looking as though she might be sleeping, I slowly stood up and shuffled my wings before I turned back to look at those who remained. They were huddled together clinging to one another.

  All the children were whimpered, clinging to their mother’s skirts, all except one who looked at me thoughtfully, her eyes wide. Mother’s held their babies tightly, until they screamed in discomfort, the last few men pulled their wives all the closer. They all seemed as if they were about to balk if I made the slightest movement towards them.

  “It’s over,” I called out causing a few of them to flinch, “let me bury my dead, then I will leave.”

  If they heard me, they didn’t respond. Walking over to the bonfire that still burned strong, I sadly stared at the flames. A tear rolled down my cheek. Our people’s custom when a death had taken place was very specific, especially for an Ulgog. I had only seen the ritual performed for those of regular status, but that of a chief or an Ulgog had always been far grander and more complicated. I wanted to ensure that Ulgog and mother’s burial was proper, even if their lives had meant so little to the tribe, they had been a part of their whole life. I wanted to make sure that in death, the reflection of what they meant to me in life would show.

  Half-heartedly, I walked over to my family’s hut and gathered all my mother’s water skins. I walked slowly to the river and filled them all. Walking back to the bonfire, I began emptying their contents. As I was halfway through, the young girl whom I noticed earlier shyly came towards me, her arms heavy with her own water skins. She gently set them down before taking the ones I had already emptied and ran off towards the river. A few other children followed at her heels curiously one by one, until I heard their squeals and laughter as they played in the water, as if the events from earlier were already forgotten.

  On their return, the others refused to follow their leader further than the ring of huts, but she came forth without fear, and helped me empty the rest of the skins. We watched as the flames sputtered and sizzled, and then finally were put out. I began to cry again as I saw that in my mother’s final moments of what must have been excruciating pain, my mother had used her final bit of strength to take Ulgog’s hand in hers, their hands still locked.

  I fell to my knees, a few feathers from the tips of my wings were ripped out in the process, but I was unable to register the pain, as the pain in my heart grew to being almost unbearable.

  The little girl sat down a few feet from me and was reverently silent as she allowed me to suffer in my grief. Although I could feel something different about her, in comparison to the rest of the tribe, I was unable to focus or comprehend in the moment.

  I don’t know how long we sat there. In my eyes it seemed like an eternity, that time had stood still. More than likely we were there for only a few hours. The tribe’s dogs paced back and forth around the fire. At first, the only deterrence required would be for me to simply utter low growls in their direction, but as the coals cooled, they became bolder and kept inching closer and closer to the bodies of my beloveds. As I was about to reach out to them with my mind, I saw a small missile thrown at what would be considered the leader and a shout. The young girl had jumped to her feet and was reaching for another rock when I held my hand out for her to stop.

  Staring coldly at the Alpha, I grabbed ahold of his primitive mind causing him to yelp in surprise, but I locked on and sent him images of me killing him and his pack should he continue. He began to whimper as if I was truly hurting him.

  Finally disentangling his mind from my own, I watched as he tucked his tail between his legs with a single bark and bounded off towards the body of Molog. He looked at me for disapproval, but when none was given, I watch him and his pack drag the body off under the brush, a young pup following behind with Molog’s lifeless face dangling from his mouth.

  The child was at first quiet, but her body language made it clear that she wanted to ask me something. “What is it?” I asked.

  “You will not have him buried?”

  “Would you have me bury a murderer?”

  “He was your uncle.”

  “He was no family of mine” I snarled a little gruffly before standing. I walked towards the tree where I had hidden my pack and stalked off towards Quilari. If nothing, I knew she could help me calm my emotions.

  Quilari came quickly to the sound of my whistle but snorted and refused to draw near. Every ti
me I tried to reach out with my hand, she would prance backwards. Looking down, I noticed that my clothing had been covered with the blood of my victims.

  Sighing, I headed towards the river and stripped down naked. I dropped my clothing into the stream and watched as the water pushed and pulled the clothing. The blood could barely be seen as it washed away. I scrubbed my skin with sand on the riverbank.

  When I realized I had nothing to dry myself off with, I just removed my extra set of clothing and put it over me. As I went to put on my boots, I noticed that blood had soaked the sole. Disgusted, I threw them over my shoulder and heard them splash in the river.

  Still feeling that I was living a dream, I walked towards my hut. Ducking my head, I entered and immediately was hit by the loneliness that permeated inside. Already the presence of my mother and Ulgog had disappeared.

  Hastily, I grabbed an extra pair of my boots that stood beside the doorway and before I could step outside, I realized that Ulgog and mother had needs for their afterlife. Sighing, I looked around the room dreading the task ahead of me.

  Slowly I made my way to my mother’s belongings and began to handle each item individually. Unfinished sewing projects lay on top, and each of them in different stages of completeness. I laughed when I saw my first attempt at sewing hidden amongst them. It was silly perhaps; it was only a few simple beaded lines on the hem of a doll's dress. I wanted her to have a piece of me in the afterlife, she who had spent so long and so hard to protect me, so I laid it down beside me.

  In another pouch, I found a few small trinkets of jewelry. I had never seen her wear them, and wondered where she might have obtained them, but I had so much more to go through. I decided that they also would be lain with her and laid them on top of the doll’s dress.

  Unwrapping a large bundle, I unfolded its contents to find a beautiful dress made of a hide that had been tanned until it was nearly white. I had never seen something so beautiful and hesitated for a moment before placing it to the other side of me. This magnificent dress I couldn’t dare to part with and decided to take it with me on my journey. Besides my cloak, I wanted something else that was hers, something she had more than likely made, and had some particular meaning to be held on for so long.

  At the bottom of the pile was a small pouch with an assortment of beads painstakingly sewn. Turning it over, I gasped in admiration.

  As always, my mother’s abilities to weave and sew a story into a pattern were amazing. She had sewed a picture of a large winged man. Although there were no intricate details, I could only guess that she had made a rendition of my father.

  For a moment I clutched the small pouch to my chest, tearing up. Looking down, I stroked the front with tenderness before placing it to the side of me with the other items I had chosen.

  Looking down, I kept questioning whether what I had picked out would be enough, then remembered that she would need her tools in her afterlife. Taking her work basket, I filled it with her various projects, and some beads and needles, and the thread she used made from the muscle of an animal. I also added her brush and hair thongs.

  Placing all her items outside the door, I then went to Ulgog’s possessions. They were not as neatly sorted as my mother's had been, but they still had their order. Unfolding his ceremonial robe, I shook it out and fingered the patterns that had been painstakingly painted on.

  This was something Ulgog should be buried with, as he held the highest position of all our tribes, and I prayed that the Great Mother would still take him in the afterlife despite his malformed body, for he would serve her well as he always had.

  On top, I laid a few of the precious stones he had always kept, not only for their beauty, but for the connection to the one whom he served.

  Then I found the two pouches that held his herbs; one for healing, the other for the sacred herbs. I was torn on which to bury alongside him. On one hand, it was only fitting that in the afterlife, he too would carry the sacred pouch filled with the ceremonial herbs, but on the other hand that pouch had been passed down from Ulgog to Ulgog through their lifetimes. It didn’t feel right that I should leave something so sacred and precious in the ground, and although I knew I would never be an Ulgog to the tribe, I couldn’t bear the thought of it not continuing its journey in our world.

  Carefully, I laid atop my mother’s dress the sacred pouch, and in the other pile, the healing herbs. I had watched Ulgog use that pouch daily and knew that he personally felt it was more sacred than the ceremonial one.

  Beneath those lay the metal balls that so many of our kind would collect and give to Ulgog for their importance to the belief that they were left by those who came before. People were still suspicious of their meaning, but nonetheless they brought them to Ulgog. In their minds, whatever power these objects might possess, Ulgog’s was greater, and therefore he could control them. Personally, I had never seen them do anything other than sit there. Sometimes, I liked to stare at the reflection of the flames as our cooking fire burned, but for the most part, I forgot their existence. I turned each over in my hands and picked a few whose designs held the most meaning for an Ulgog and placed him with that which I would bury him with.

  Finally, beneath everything I came upon an amulet that was old and had been worn quite a bit, if the wear along the edges was anything to go by. As I turned it over in my hand and felt its coolness upon my flesh, I noticed a faded design on one side.

  As I held it up, catching a few rays of sunlight from behind me, I gasped. It wasn’t a design, but rather a symbol, a common symbol at that, but its meaning is what held me. This was not a symbol of protection that most people wore, but rather a symbol of love. It meant more than love, it was an undying love, a love never broken, not even by death. I wondered for a moment why Ulgog had this. He had never been married before my mother, and their love had been nothing like this. Holding it close to my chest, I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. As I rubbed the stone between my hands, I was startled when another memory appeared, one that I had not remembered seeing when in Ulgog’s mind, but it as there, nonetheless.

  ~She lay on a pile of blankets, more bundled atop her as her teeth chattered. As I looked down at her, I could see the lines of her face had become more prominent. Her skin had become sallow, her breathing was raspy and shallow, the breaths that one took when death was near. Her eyes, despite being full of pain, were overcome with love as she stared up at me/Ulgog. She held our hand, her skin rough and cold, and as we sat there looking down on her, the pain in Ulgog’s heart became overwhelming. Tears dripped down Ulgog’s cheeks.

  “I must.... I must give you something” she gasped. Pulling her hand from Ulgog’s, she pointed to a small pouch. “Take it. It is ours.... It is the life we should have had.’

  Gently opening the pouch, Ulgog’s hands tipped it upside down and the amulet lay there. Ulgog looked down at her in disbelief, as it was an amulet, he had made with the sacred writing so many years ago for the woman he had planned to marry, but her breathing was no more, the love of his life was dead. He began to rock back and forth, quietly croon a song of grief, Ulgog’s voice carried softly, and alone. In that moment I felt the grief for the woman he had loved beyond all measure. ~

  As the memory faded, I found my cheeks streaked with tears. They would now be together in the Undying Lands. Carefully, I laid the amulet amongst the burial possessions.

  For a moment, I went to take more clothing to place upon Ulgog and mother’s body, then realized that except for laying something on top of them, I would more than likely never be able to bathe their bodies, and anoint them with the ochre that was customary to our people. Besides his ceremonial robe, there was nothing else I could think to take, until I glanced up at the doorway to see both their coming of age cloaks hung on pegs that had been buried into the wall.

  I wondered for a moment if they really mattered to the Great Mother, for she was the love and provider to us all, but I couldn’t stop the feeling as if I needed more. Removing their cloaks fr
om their place, I spread them out and carefully wrapped all that I would be sending with mother and Ulgog into the afterlife.

  I then packed the few of the belongings I had chosen to take with me in an extra pouch. Reverently, I removed all that I could, and took them with me to sit outside.

  Tonight, I would watch over the bodies of my parents to ensure no scavengers disturbed them, and in the morning, I would bury them where they had died. Praying that the ashes of the fire which had burned them, would also cleanse them in soul if not in body.

  Leaving the hut, I was surprised to find a group of people gathered near the edge of the bonfire. Ignoring them, I carefully put Ulgog’s and mother’s possessions in a pile next to my own bag, which had been taken from its hiding place and carefully place upright near my parents’ bodies. I saw the young girl who had help me earlier and as she felt my gaze, she smiled shyly at me, one that I did not return.

  Finished, I stood up to my full height before the people and waited for them to speak. Nervously, a man stepped forward, putting his hands out if he were approaching a wounded animal. At first, I thought he was trying to distract me, so when I scanned him, I realized his intent was to only show me that he held no weapons and was praying silently that I would not kill them.

  “We are sorry to bother you great Winged One, but the women here wish to ask a favor of you.”

  I stared at him with a hard gaze, sneering at their audacity to think a favor would be given after the atrocities that had just been committed.

  His voice wavered as he continued, trying to ignore my displeasure, while watching me wearingly. “We ask for you to have mercy upon us and our fallen people. We ask that you let us bury the dead in accordance to our customs.”