The Outcast

It was early morning and the sun had just risen, sending its flat rays across the meadow. The light had not yet gathered sufficient strength to drive the dew from the grass. No breeze stirred the trees enclosing the meadow. A deer, a buck with a large set of antlers, nuzzled the grass as he grazed. Hidden in the forest at the edge of the meadow were five men. Gripping their spears, they stared at the stag.

Behind them were several women. They watched intently for it was not often that they witnessed a kill. Hunting was the domain of the men and it was rare that the foraging of the women took them to the proximity of a hunt. Elna held her son of four with one arm and covering his mouth with the other hand, lest he make a noise and scare the quarry. But the boy, Jareb, had no intention of making a sound. He was too intent on staring at the stag. It was the first time he had seen a deer and it fascinated him.

As it grazed, the stag migrated slowly toward the edge of the clearing. In one swift, fluid motion, one of the men rose and hurled his spear. It lodged itself in the chest of the startled deer. As it bellowed in shock and pain, the men rushed toward the stricken beast. Blood spurting, it leaped several times and then fell on its side, legs kicking.

Jareb's eyes, already large with wonder, expanded even further in horror. He pulled away his mother's hand and began to wail piteously, burying his head against his mother's chest.

His mother frowned in surprise. "What is wrong with you, my child?"

"They . . . they . . . hurt the . . . deer," Jareb said between sobs.

His mother laughed. "It's all right. That is how we get our food. Did you see how well your father threw his spear? He is a great hunter!"

Jareb stared at his mother as tears continued to stream from his large brown eyes. "Daddy hurt the deer!"

"Come, little one." His mother turned away from the scene of the kill. "There are ripe berries by the creek. Let us gather some."

For several days after the hunt, Jareb would not speak to Maren, his father, other than to ask why he had killed the deer. And from that time on the boy ate meat only reluctantly, preferring fruit, honey, berries and the coarse bread his mother made. As he grew older, Jareb was small for his age. Maren was convinced it was due to his son's aversion to eating meat and badgered his son to change his dietary habits. But Jareb refused.

Like all the boys in the village, Jareb learned to handle a spear and other weapons of the hunt. Maren was one of the best hunters in the village and dedicated many hours to training his son. Although Jareb would have preferred to spend his time gathering with the women, he became proficient with the weapons in order to avoid his father's displeasure.

When Jareb was fourteen, it was time for his first hunt. He had never seen another kill since his first at the age of four and he did not look forward to witnessing, much less partaking, in another. The men left the

village at dawn, traveling rapidly and silently through the forest. It was not long before they came upon deer tracks of two adults and three juveniles.

For two hours they followed the tracks until they came upon the deer grazing in a small meadow beside a river. Silently the men crept closer. When they were just within spear range, Maren, the leader of the hunt, raised his spear. Before he could launch the weapon, Jareb jumped to his feet and shouted. Frightened, the deer bounded away.

At first the men were frozen in shock. And then a chorus of shouts and curses rang out. Dropping his spear, Jareb sprinted into the brush. Maren, followed by the other men, plunged after him. Jareb ran to the river and dove in. The current was swift and a mile downstream was a set of rapids.

The men halted on the bank and scanned the water. There was no sign of the Jareb. "The rapids will finish him off," one of the men said.

Maren nodded. "It's just as well," he said in disgust. "He's an embarrassment to me and the whole village."

They followed the track of the deer for a short distance but the trail became faint and finally vanished. The men gave up and returned to the village. When Maren told Elna of Jareb's behavior and his loss, she held back her tears, fearing her husband's wrath. But later, when she was alone, she wept bitterly.

The very next day the men returned to the hunt. This time they were on their way long before dawn. By the time the sun was nearing the horizon, they were hiding beside a pond commonly used by game for water. They shivered in the predawn cold as they waited. Their patience was rewarded by the grunts and gurgles of a herd of wild pigs as it approached the pond. Gripping their spears the men stared intently into the semidarkness. Suddenly a bird screeched a warning. With frightened squeals the pigs scattered into the underbrush. Maren cursed and stood up. Once it was light enough to see the tracks, the men tried to follow the trails but they vanished into the thick tangle of underbrush. Discouraged, they returned to the village.

The hunting forays continued to go mysteriously awry. Invariably something of a loud cry or a flying object would startle the prey. Even small game such as rabbit and grouse became illusive.

After several weeks of frustration, the men held a meeting.

"We have never had so many unsuccessful hunts," Maren said. "What have we done wrong? Have we unwittingly broken a taboo? Are the spirits angered with us?" He and the other men looked at Niln, the aged shaman.

"I know of no violations," Niln replied. He was a small man with a mane of silver hair and piercing black eyes. "But one never knows with the spirits."

"We will starve," one said, "if the current state of affairs continues.

Niln smiled. "No. We won't starve. What the women gather is sufficient."

"We would no be longer men," Maren said, "if we are reduced to living off what the women gather."

Niln ignored Maren's comment. "When was the last successful hunt?" he asked.

There was a pause. "It was shortly after the last full moon. We took a wild boar."

The other men nodded in agreement.

"And what happened on the next hunt?" Niln asked.

"That was with Jareb," Maren replied. "He startled the deer." There was bitterness in his voice. His son's behavior still rankled him.

"And it continues," Niln said.

The group was silent for a full minute.

"You think the spirit of Jareb is disturbing the animals?" one asked finally.

"Perhaps," the shaman replied. "But the body of Jareb was never found. The women searched the banks of the river below the rapids and never found a sign of him. Perhaps it is more than his spirit that is disturbing the animals."

Maren stroked his chin. "I see what you mean. Well, if he is alive, there will be signs. He will leave tracks. He will light a fire. There will be smoke."

"I will find him," Poln said. He was the village's best tracker.

"I will go with you," Maren said. "Let us start tomorrow at dawn."

Poln nodded and the meeting adjourned.

Maren and Poln were on their way at the first light. They climbed a hillock near the meadow where Jareb had frightened the deer and scanned the area.

"There!" Maren pointed to a wisp of smoke. It was on the far side of the river and a mile to the south.

Poln squinted at the smoke. "You are right. Let us cross the river and see what we can find.

They hiked upstream to a shallow ford. Once on the other side, they turned south. It was not long before Poln found a set of tracks.

"Look at this." He knelt beside a patch of soft earth. "Clearly these are tracks of a person."

Maren knelt beside him. "I see. They are small too. It could very well be Jareb."

Poln nodded and they continued, following the trail. It took them an hour to work their way to the camp. The smoke was still rising as they approached the clearing. Peering through the brush, they saw Jareb sitting beside the fire.

"He's alive!" Maren whispered.

Indeed the rapids had not led to Jareb's demise. He had managed to swim underwater for a distance and then reach the further bank before the current swept him into the rocks. Once on shore, Jareb had no trouble surviving for he was an accomplished gatherer. He knew which plants, roots and berries were edible and when to harvest them and how to store them for the winter.

"It is he who has been disturbing the game," Poln said.

"Kill him."

Both men raised their spears but before they had cocked their arms, there was a loud roar as a bear charged from the brush. Neither man had time to react before the bear was upon them. Poln took the brunt of the charge and was crushed by the bear. Maren, who had been knocked down, scrambled to his feet. The bear rushed toward him and he threw down his spear and fled.

Jareb remained by the fire during the attack. Once the ruckus had subsided, he went to where Poln lay mangled. He shook his head slowly and turned away.

Maren re-crossed the river. The bear followed at a distance, not turning away until Maren neared the village. When he arrived, the men assembled to hear his story.

Once Maren had finished, Niln was the first to speak: "Perhaps the spirits have smiled on your son. Why else would he be alive and the bear protect him?"

"Protect him!" Maren snorted in derision. "It was mere happenstance. Why would a bear protect him? I say that we should go after him. Let us take our spears and hunt him down."

Niln said nothing as the men shouted in agreement.

As Maren packed a satchel of food in preparation, Elna asked what had happened. When he told her the story, she yelped in joy.

"He's alive! My son is alive!"

"Not for long," Maren said. "We will hunt him down. He is destroying the village. Because of him, men are no longer men."

"You will never kill him. He is protected!"

A harsh glance from Maren silenced her and she said nothing further until he left. And then she went about her household tasks, smiling happily.

Maren led the men to the ford and then south toward Jareb's camp. This time there was no telltale smoke to guide them. But Maren was able to follow his and Poln's tracks. As they neared, they took care to tread softly and kept their spears at the ready. But all they found was Poln's body. Although the coals of the fire were still warm, there was no sign of Jareb.

By the time they had buried Poln, it was evening and the men decided to camp in the clearing, leaving one man on guard. It was well after midnight and the sentry was leaning on his spear, dozing, beside the fire when a number of dark forms swiftly penetrated the clearing. Suddenly two of the forms, large male wolves, attacked the sentry. His screams brought the others awake as more wolves streamed into the camp. Pandemonium broke loose. The screams, cries and curses of the men mingled with the snarls and yelps

of the wolves. Several men hurled spears and others ran into the night. Above the shouts and yelps could be heard the distinct sound of laughter. And then the wolves withdrew as quickly and soundlessly as they had arrived.

In the flickering light of the fire the men regrouped. Half of them were injured from the attack and one man lay dead, impaled by a hastily hurled spear. There was no sign of a dead or injured wolf.

"He was laughing at us," Maren said. "Did you hear him? I'm sure it was Jareb."

The rest nodded. "Yes, I heard him," one of the men said. "There is nothing more we can do here. Let us return."

"No!" Maren was adamant. "Wait for light and we'll follow him. He must have left tracks."

"There is more going on here than the peculiarities of your son. The spirits are working in a way to oppose us. We will all die if we continue."

The others muttered their agreement and Maren made no further comment. At dawn they returned to the village. The shaman could do no more than commiserate with the men. His incantations and amulets were to no avail. Hunts continued to be sterile. The quarry always eluded the hunters. As before, a noise or a hurled rock would disturb the animal or bird. And often the sound of laughter would float through the air. Several hunters were killed, being ambushed by a large animal. Eventually the men gave up.

At first the men sat around the village sulking. And then under the press of need, they joined the women and children in gathering. Initially they did so reluctantly. But with time they became more enthusiastic,

searching out new sources and trying new combinations. Niln had the idea of taking seeds from some of the edible plants and planting them near the village. The men were pleased to see sprouts pushing out of the soil and spent their time tending them. And so it passed for five years.

Each year when the full moon rose over the mountain to the east, the village held a festival. There was a feast and story telling. Those of the children who had come of age were welcomed into the community of adults. Weddings were preformed and those who had passed away during the last year were remembered.

As the feast which concluded the festival was ending, Jareb strode into the circle of firelight. At first no one, not even Maren and Elna, recognized him. He was no longer the thin small boy who had run away years before. Rather he was a full-grown, powerful man with long hair reaching past his shoulders. A stunned silence gripped the village as Jareb halted beside the fire and folded his arms across his chest.

"Well, don't you recognize me?" He smiled at the villagers.

"Yes!" Elna shouted. "You are my son!" She ran forward and threw her arms around Jareb. "I have been so worried for you!" A murmur of surprise rippled through the crowd.

"There is no need to worry, Mother." He gently moved her to one side.

"So it is you who has driven us from the hunt!" Maren shouted angrily.

Jareb threw back his head and laughed. "No. It is not I who has destroyed your hunting. It is you."

Although the crowd continued to glower at Jareb, no one responded.

"Yes, it is you. You had no need to hunt for food. As you can see, gathering has given you plenty. And you have gone even further, raising some of the plants yourselves. That is good and how it should be.

"There is resentment against you in the animal kingdom. You have killed solely for the sake of killing, not out of necessity. And that is not good. If you try to kill again, it will be in vain. And if anything dies, it will be you."

A growl sounded from the forest and a large bear ambled into the village. From the opposite side a pack of wolves hung at the edge of the circle of light emanating from the fire.

"These are my friends," Jareb said. "And together we will enforce the edict. Continue your gathering and learn how to raise the plants which will sustain you and kill no more."

With that he strode into the forest and vanished with the wolves and bear.

No one in the village stirred. Finally the shaman broke the silence:

"He has spoken. We would do well to listen."

Don Stockard's background includes growing up on a homestead and working as a commercial clam digger, a miner and a geophysicist. He spent ten years in school studying math and science at Carnegie Tech, Dartmouth and Caltech. He has also spent quite a bit of time bike touring in Europe, mountain climbing and sailing. Over the last four years he has accumulated over one hundred eighty credits, a hundred forty of which are short stories. Some recent publications are: Raskolnikovâ's Cellar "Dark Horse" Fall, 2001 Once Upon a World "Karmic Trap" Fall 2001 Armchair Aesthete "Frozen Monk" inter/Spring, 2001. In addition Softspin Press published a collection of his short stories in 1994.

Email: Don Stockard

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