Desperate Remedies

The Golden God was beginning the languid descent towards his home beyond the horizon, casting a brilliant tinge across the embankment sheltering the trees. The river, a smooth glass of serpentine fluidity, reflected the blazing orb as it neared the jagged peaks that devoured it every night. On the shore, a man as stout and squat as the rocky escarpments surrounding the valley advanced with unwavering resolve, his broad brow furrowed with worry as he pushed onward into the formidable landscape.

In the dimming radiance of a setting sun, Druk, with his brawny arms, pulled a travois masterfully crafted from the bounty of the forest. Upon this bed of interwoven branches and animal hides rested his beloved Ren, the most cherished being in his world. She took ragged and urgent breaths in between weakened whimpers, a far cry from the births he had witnessed within their tribe. A dire unease hung in the still air. The shells and stones woven into her hair had come undone as she thrashed and convulsed, and his heart pounded in tandem with each jolt of her torment.

He moved with the flow of the water, aware of the gamble he had taken. The Summer Gathering of the Others was a realm where his kin were strangers; the people there were tall and lithe, their dispositions often harsher, and the nature of each individual was a dark mystery until face-to-face. Yet his quest lay not with the men of questionable temperament. Druk’s pursuit was of their women, custodians of ancient wisdom—keepers of herbal secrets, mystical rites, and the sacred mysteries that shrouded their femininity. They would surely show compassion for her and their child, and their acumen would save them both.

As he crept with measured steps, his thoughts drifted to the haunting tale Om, chieftain of the Sea Tribe, had woven. It was a grim recounting of an unfortunate soul who encountered a band of these strangers and fell victim to an unfathomable anguish the tribesmen could never have imagined. Their display of cruelty, the use of advanced tools, and the savage pleasure they derived from provoking pain made the Others seem alien. The captured man had been kind, a storyteller who sang the tales of their ancestors, wandering from one encampment to the next. They had laid him to rest in a bed of flowers and rough-hewn gems, with a bone flute held in his unyielding hand, no more stories to tell.

One could not ignore the stark contrast between the tribesmen killing for food and the Others killing for fun. The forest echoed memories from the blood of slain men, where it once held the lilting notes of legends lifted into the ether.

Yet whispers of a different kind stirred the air—tales of healing and sorcery that defied the very essence of nature. Such powers, if they indeed existed, warranted the risks Druk would take. The Others flourished, their numbers swelling with the use of this arcane craft. Their offspring thrived where others faltered, and their women were well-versed in the sacred dance of life and death.

They held the secrets to surviving the serpent’s strike and how to mend shattered bone. Their shamans brewed the elixirs to quell fevers and staunch the crimson tide. To the Tribes, such mastery was supernatural, for they knew the ways of flora and fauna, but the Others—they were as deities among mortals.

The lights in the void above them flickered into sight, and the Night Goddess emerged as an ethereal disc, granting the world her silvery luminescence. Druk subconsciously slowed his progression and eyed the land directly ahead, the way his people would have. The hour to establish camp and draw fish from the waters had long passed, yet they were no longer among the Sky Tribe. His hair, which Ren herself had tightly woven, had loosened and allowed tendrils to escape and cascade over a commanding brow, casting elongated shadows across his vision, yet he pressed onward. Ren moaned deeply, her body folding protectively over her bulging womb, the writhing from within becoming less and less with each passing hour.

A mammoth trumpeted from somewhere beyond the forest wall and drew his gaze towards the deceiving shadows; his steadying breath filled his senses with the smells of soil and pine. The tree line remained undisturbed, harboring no sign of threat. Unconvinced of safety, his thick fingers reached for his belt until he gripped the stunted rock blade, secured snugly to the smooth bone handle that fit inside his palm with ease—a Bonding Gift from Ren, given to him the night he accepted her as his own. He smiled slightly as he recalled the memories of the Fire Rites before winter—a sacred ceremony where their union had anointed him with the mantle of manhood.

It had already been one full rotation of the Night Goddess’ journey since they left their people, so the Others must be near. They were never far.

As soon as the thought entered his mind, the breeze came alive with their presence. The steady beat of tightly pulled skins echoed off the pocked stones rising into the sky before the melodious notes of flutes joined the drummers. A tingling sensation swept across his skin, and a bitter surge of bile caught in his throat, the acidity arresting the rhythm of his breathing.

The sinuous waters, veiled by the bend just beyond the scope of his vision, concealed their future. Unaware his pace had lessened, her fragile whimper pressed him to hasten his steps, knowing that in mere moments, they would either encounter hope or confront its absence. The outcome was undetermined; Druk’s only certainty was the lack of any alternative. High above, the Night Goddess watched them move, her pearly scrutiny unwavering as it revealed the couple's precarious vulnerability.

Druk had barely pulled them around the increasing rush of the river that cleanly cut through the protective stone wall when he saw the settlement. Long ago, they pushed back the forest to create the plains that cradled the meeting grounds—between the rise of the mountain face and the dark line of ancient trees that stood as sentinels. In the heart of the wide meadow, their hearth fires danced and cast shadows across rows of tents. Children darted between campsites to collect the friends seen only during the Gatherings. Their laughter was full of innocence, not the bark of wild animals he had imagined.

An assemblage of souls, numbering in the hundreds, had converged upon this single expanse—a sight he had never before witnessed. Their sprawl of massive presence was both daunting and unexpected. Here they stood, a tapestry of flesh and animal skins, moving amongst each temporary home, their smiles, a flash of ivory in the dim, smaller than his own but somehow terrifying. The smell of meat and vegetables roasting drifted across the encampment and caused his hunger to awaken, and he grumbled a deep gurgle from his belly. 

The man crouched, his breath shallow, eyes wide with fear. His eyes searched the crowd, seeking the subtle signs of a medicine woman. Perhaps a painted face, adorned with symbols of their ancestors, or intricately plaited hair entwined with knuckle bones and teeth. Maybe she'd hold a staff topped with a mass of feathers, given willingly by sacred fowl. Or perhaps he would glimpse the ominous bear claw strung on leather, hanging low between her naked bosom—a potent talisman.

Ren’s cry rose above the sounds of music and throngs of people, startling him and turning the heads of all those near the thicket where the pair lay concealed. Suddenly, the night erupted with shouts, and urgent hands yanked silent spears from where they rested, always ready to defend in a world of constant dangers. The earth rumbled as the stampede approached, their eyes frantically scanning the shadows for movement.

There was but one last choice to make. Swiftly, he jumped to his feet and drew her into the open before shielding her heaving body with his own. The tremors wreaked havoc on them both as Druk gathered his resolve and swallowed his fear. When he lifted his gaze, he confronted a sea of faces, their eyes holding surprise as they stared. The pair’s arrival was undeniable. The moment suspended heavily on the stillness between them, and the Night Goddess held her breath. Their destiny awaited.