Hidua is Found by Yichimet
Posted: Sun Jan 17, 2016 7:09 pm
Hidua is Found
Yichimet - December 7, 2005
Hidua sat under a tall pine tree, staring at his small, popping
fire made with what twigs he could gather, and groaned. He rubbed
his knees where they ached, which was everywhere. He hadn’t
walked so far in as long as he could remember, which for a bull
as old as he was a long time. The groan was more than pain,
though. Panic and sadness tinged the edges as he looked at the
stars and did not recognize much of their patterning. He was
lost, and Yichimet was sick.
* * *
Yichimet is a star over the ground. A stag that dances with a
doe. A broken twig beating on a skin pulled tight over an open
tree trunk.
His skin bubbles and grows scales. His arms fall off, he regrows
arms, he swings them around his head, laughing.
He walks into the Fire and continues through it.
* * *
The owl clasped onto Hidua’s forearm. Its talons dug deep into
the leather guard, but the pain was small, and Hidua barely
noticed as he tugged the rolled up letters from the owl’s legs.
“Yichimet’s friends have found him, I think, my friend,” Hidua
said to the owl. It looked passively at the horizon.
“Now if they could find me,” he sighed, and sat down in the dewy
grass to write replies.
* * *
Yichimet bobs like an apple in a giant salt sea. His scales fall
off, his arms sprout feathers. His voice is no voice. His voice
is his ancestors and they all are silent.
* * *
Hidua leaned heavily on his walking stick and rubbed at his
snout. The sun was high on a day he could not count anymore. He
was hungry, and desperate.
He mumbled to himself in Grimtotem Taurahe. “Mixed in the night,”
he grumbled. “Mixed in the night.”
He was walking slowly down a giant hill toward large shapes on
the horizon. His old eyes could not see what the shapes were, but
he thought they might be tents, and any Shu’Halo was a good one
to find at this point.
Minutes later he heard a rustling in the grass. He turned slowly
to see a wolf trailing a tall, gruff bull of a Tauren approaching
him.
Hidua squinted at the tracker. “They have found me, my son…” he
whispered.
* * *
Yichimet flies through the air, catches a dragon, eats its belly
and leaves it to rot. Yichimet catches Fire and eats its belly
and leaves it to rot. Yichimet catches himself, eats its belly
and leaves it to rot.
* * *
Hidua wheezed climbing the hill to the Barrens. Mohan offered his
arm to help the old bull while Lord Pincus stalked slowly behind
them warily.
Hidua caught his breath at the top and continued his story. “You
know that all this land was once ours, and the glory of the hunt
was our greatest glory.” Mohan nodded, looking impatient and
concerned at the sorcerer’s shuffling feet and slow pace. “And
the story is told that our hearts grew dark and we left the path
of the Earth Mother to walk in darkness.”
“Yes, that is how the story was told around our fires,” Mohan
said.
“And the Earth Mother turned us back to her heart. Well, the
Grimtotem story is different. The Earth Mother did weep at our
dark hearts, but only for our danger, because what we hunted was
demons, and those that brought them into the world.”
Hidua looked at Pincus warily. “You control that being?” he
asked.
“Yes,” nodded Pincus, looking at Pizloz the imp, “though this one
is a bit ornery at times.”
“Then you are the most powerful being I’ve ever known,” Hidua
said.
* * *
Yichimet’s talons dig into branches. Beings sprout from the bark
around him and pluck his feathers. Vines grow around his feet,
grow into his legs, grow through his veins. Yichimet laughs and
laughs until his voice breaks.
* * *
They stalked near the Quilboar lands. Hidua’s voice was soft, but
continued the story. “And then there was a time when we sat
around the fire with the long-ears. No elder can tell me why.
But, like the tricksters and thieves they are, they backed away
from the fire and destroyed our land, stealing it from us.”
“They are deceitful, yes,” Mohan muttered, his eyes going glassy
and fierce.
“This is what Yichimet and I sought in the Vision hunt. Answers.
Answers to our questions. Only, I have done something wrong.”
* * *
Spirits eat at Yichimet’s flesh. Demons dance on his horns. A
white heart bursts from his chest.
* * *
Eelai, the shadowed one, scouted ahead. The Needles’ spires
reached high like fingers. They rounded a bend and saw Freewind’s
elevators. Hidua sighed.
* * *
Yichimet’s body breaks into pieces. Yichimet’s body melts and
drips down the bark.
* * *
A faint smell of alcohol came off Snowfeather’s breath. “Go, look
at him! Are you too late? You have been so long getting here!”
she cried at Hidua.
The old bull stumbled quickly into the tent. Yichimet was under a
blanket, still and near-peaceful. His snout was covered with
moisture and sweat coated his palms.
“He is bad. But he is not gone,” Hidua said. “We must mix another
sapta.”
“What is a sapta?” asked Eelai.
“It is a mixture. You might call it a potion? We use it for Sight
and Vision. We used one for a Vision hunt a few moons ago.”
“What must we do, then?” asked Snowfeather.
“Pincus, Eelai…all of you…would you help him? It will be
dangerous.”
“What would happen?” Eelai asked.
“Your spirit leaves your body for a time with a sapta as powerful
as we need. You would have to find Yichimet.”
Pincus nodded.
“Probably not the most dangerous thing I’ve done,” Eelai said.
“To help a Grim, yes, I would.”
Snowfeather nodded through her near-tears. Mohan did not even
make a motion, but his body said yes in the way he stood over his
brother-in-heart.
* * *
Yichimet’s blood feeds the roots of the Tree.
* * *
Hidua and the Grim stood at the edge of Freewind Post. Hidua’s
owl flapped off, carrying messages to Hidua’s elders, who would
tell him what he needed to know to make the sapta.
Snowfeather gave him a blanket and water and helped him in to the
tent so he could watch over Yichimet and rest.
“It is my fault,” Hidua said as he sat down with a grunt.
“Don’t blame yourself, Hidua,” Mohan said.
“Guilt is not a state to entertain,” Pincus agreed.
Hidua laid down and closed his eyes. In Grimtotem, he muttered,
“should’ve been mixed at night.”
* * *
Yichimet sprouts branches and leaves. He drops fruit, and the
fruit turns to Fire.
[Chilalli]
A small black hawk owl lands near Snowfeather with a note
attached to it's leg.
"Humm.. what's this? Hello Eats Rats Whole.."
Quickly, Snowfeather takes the note and reads it:
Tonight
Freewind Base
9 Drums Dark
The Hunt Begins
Turning the note over, Snowfeather replies with one word and
attaches the note to the owl. Delicately she tosses it up into
the air to seek it's master.
"Finally."
She opens her flask and starts to drink, trying to drown out the
nightmares of Yichimet.
Yichimet - December 7, 2005
Hidua sat under a tall pine tree, staring at his small, popping
fire made with what twigs he could gather, and groaned. He rubbed
his knees where they ached, which was everywhere. He hadn’t
walked so far in as long as he could remember, which for a bull
as old as he was a long time. The groan was more than pain,
though. Panic and sadness tinged the edges as he looked at the
stars and did not recognize much of their patterning. He was
lost, and Yichimet was sick.
* * *
Yichimet is a star over the ground. A stag that dances with a
doe. A broken twig beating on a skin pulled tight over an open
tree trunk.
His skin bubbles and grows scales. His arms fall off, he regrows
arms, he swings them around his head, laughing.
He walks into the Fire and continues through it.
* * *
The owl clasped onto Hidua’s forearm. Its talons dug deep into
the leather guard, but the pain was small, and Hidua barely
noticed as he tugged the rolled up letters from the owl’s legs.
“Yichimet’s friends have found him, I think, my friend,” Hidua
said to the owl. It looked passively at the horizon.
“Now if they could find me,” he sighed, and sat down in the dewy
grass to write replies.
* * *
Yichimet bobs like an apple in a giant salt sea. His scales fall
off, his arms sprout feathers. His voice is no voice. His voice
is his ancestors and they all are silent.
* * *
Hidua leaned heavily on his walking stick and rubbed at his
snout. The sun was high on a day he could not count anymore. He
was hungry, and desperate.
He mumbled to himself in Grimtotem Taurahe. “Mixed in the night,”
he grumbled. “Mixed in the night.”
He was walking slowly down a giant hill toward large shapes on
the horizon. His old eyes could not see what the shapes were, but
he thought they might be tents, and any Shu’Halo was a good one
to find at this point.
Minutes later he heard a rustling in the grass. He turned slowly
to see a wolf trailing a tall, gruff bull of a Tauren approaching
him.
Hidua squinted at the tracker. “They have found me, my son…” he
whispered.
* * *
Yichimet flies through the air, catches a dragon, eats its belly
and leaves it to rot. Yichimet catches Fire and eats its belly
and leaves it to rot. Yichimet catches himself, eats its belly
and leaves it to rot.
* * *
Hidua wheezed climbing the hill to the Barrens. Mohan offered his
arm to help the old bull while Lord Pincus stalked slowly behind
them warily.
Hidua caught his breath at the top and continued his story. “You
know that all this land was once ours, and the glory of the hunt
was our greatest glory.” Mohan nodded, looking impatient and
concerned at the sorcerer’s shuffling feet and slow pace. “And
the story is told that our hearts grew dark and we left the path
of the Earth Mother to walk in darkness.”
“Yes, that is how the story was told around our fires,” Mohan
said.
“And the Earth Mother turned us back to her heart. Well, the
Grimtotem story is different. The Earth Mother did weep at our
dark hearts, but only for our danger, because what we hunted was
demons, and those that brought them into the world.”
Hidua looked at Pincus warily. “You control that being?” he
asked.
“Yes,” nodded Pincus, looking at Pizloz the imp, “though this one
is a bit ornery at times.”
“Then you are the most powerful being I’ve ever known,” Hidua
said.
* * *
Yichimet’s talons dig into branches. Beings sprout from the bark
around him and pluck his feathers. Vines grow around his feet,
grow into his legs, grow through his veins. Yichimet laughs and
laughs until his voice breaks.
* * *
They stalked near the Quilboar lands. Hidua’s voice was soft, but
continued the story. “And then there was a time when we sat
around the fire with the long-ears. No elder can tell me why.
But, like the tricksters and thieves they are, they backed away
from the fire and destroyed our land, stealing it from us.”
“They are deceitful, yes,” Mohan muttered, his eyes going glassy
and fierce.
“This is what Yichimet and I sought in the Vision hunt. Answers.
Answers to our questions. Only, I have done something wrong.”
* * *
Spirits eat at Yichimet’s flesh. Demons dance on his horns. A
white heart bursts from his chest.
* * *
Eelai, the shadowed one, scouted ahead. The Needles’ spires
reached high like fingers. They rounded a bend and saw Freewind’s
elevators. Hidua sighed.
* * *
Yichimet’s body breaks into pieces. Yichimet’s body melts and
drips down the bark.
* * *
A faint smell of alcohol came off Snowfeather’s breath. “Go, look
at him! Are you too late? You have been so long getting here!”
she cried at Hidua.
The old bull stumbled quickly into the tent. Yichimet was under a
blanket, still and near-peaceful. His snout was covered with
moisture and sweat coated his palms.
“He is bad. But he is not gone,” Hidua said. “We must mix another
sapta.”
“What is a sapta?” asked Eelai.
“It is a mixture. You might call it a potion? We use it for Sight
and Vision. We used one for a Vision hunt a few moons ago.”
“What must we do, then?” asked Snowfeather.
“Pincus, Eelai…all of you…would you help him? It will be
dangerous.”
“What would happen?” Eelai asked.
“Your spirit leaves your body for a time with a sapta as powerful
as we need. You would have to find Yichimet.”
Pincus nodded.
“Probably not the most dangerous thing I’ve done,” Eelai said.
“To help a Grim, yes, I would.”
Snowfeather nodded through her near-tears. Mohan did not even
make a motion, but his body said yes in the way he stood over his
brother-in-heart.
* * *
Yichimet’s blood feeds the roots of the Tree.
* * *
Hidua and the Grim stood at the edge of Freewind Post. Hidua’s
owl flapped off, carrying messages to Hidua’s elders, who would
tell him what he needed to know to make the sapta.
Snowfeather gave him a blanket and water and helped him in to the
tent so he could watch over Yichimet and rest.
“It is my fault,” Hidua said as he sat down with a grunt.
“Don’t blame yourself, Hidua,” Mohan said.
“Guilt is not a state to entertain,” Pincus agreed.
Hidua laid down and closed his eyes. In Grimtotem, he muttered,
“should’ve been mixed at night.”
* * *
Yichimet sprouts branches and leaves. He drops fruit, and the
fruit turns to Fire.
[Chilalli]
A small black hawk owl lands near Snowfeather with a note
attached to it's leg.
"Humm.. what's this? Hello Eats Rats Whole.."
Quickly, Snowfeather takes the note and reads it:
Tonight
Freewind Base
9 Drums Dark
The Hunt Begins
Turning the note over, Snowfeather replies with one word and
attaches the note to the owl. Delicately she tosses it up into
the air to seek it's master.
"Finally."
She opens her flask and starts to drink, trying to drown out the
nightmares of Yichimet.