The Earth Shrugged

Chapter 1 The Adventure Begins

Chad awoke to his neighbors’ rooster greeting the dawn. After stretching luxuriously and then yawning hugely, he rolled over and sat up. Today I begin my adventure. I wonder what I will see?

I wonder what old Sherman would say if he could see what I’m about to do? After five years of catering to that doddering fossil, I’m finally free to do what I want. In some ways though, I’ll miss him."

Chad had apprenticed to Sherman to become a Scribe. He’d loved learning how to interpret the symbols in books and amazing his friends with the stories he could tell. Being a full-fledged Scribe was a rare honor.

He got up to put his cooking gear into the top of his pack, nibbling dried fruit as he worked. Shouldering the heavy pack, he cast one last look around for anything he might have missed. Satisfied, he ducked out through the doorway and then turned to secure the heavy wooden door. As he turned away, he almost ran into the village leader.

Stepping back out of respect, he said Sorry, Sir. I didn’t see you.

The old man chuckled while stepping forward to place his hands on Chad’s shoulders. It is I who must apologize to you. I should have spoken sooner. Do you have everything?

I packed everything last night and checked again this morning. Chad hefted the pouch on a lanyard around his neck. I placed the most valuable trade goods in here.

The old man nodded and said, I will walk with you for a while. And turned northward. Chad hurried to catch up.

Where will you go?

I plan to walk to the nearest villages first, then wander as my heart leads.

They walked for a few paces before the elder answered. That is a good plan. When I did my travels forty years ago, I had the same plans. He chuckled and added, Things didn’t go quite as I expected. I made it to two villages, then met my wife. I ended up staying with her until we started this village.

You started this village?

The old man nodded. Yes. I found this place during a trip to her village.

They walked on in silence. The elder spoke first.

We’ve lived here with our friends for many years in peace. Some died when the long winter hit before you were born. Your parents died when the sickness came.

Chad had just begun his apprenticeship to old Sherman when he saw his father die with festering sores all over his body. His mother had tended her mate outside the village and then succumbed to the same illness. Because his father had fled the village when he discovered the first red swellings on his skin, it spared the rest of the villagers.

The entire village had turned out to torch his family’s hut, along with everything in it. The village had bartered for oil from another village and had used it to fuel the fire that burned the bodies of his parents.

The village leader stopped at the bank of the small creek bordering their village. Leaning on his walking stick, he turned to look at Chad.

Pointing at the pouch at Chad’s neck, he said, You carry much of the wealth of our village in before-time treasures. Use them well. Bring honor to yourself, and to us. Enjoy your journey, as you may never again get the chance to wander free. Someday, you will find a worthy young woman and settle down. You may even start your own village! Then you will find yourself bound to the land and to the people around you. You will, as I do, looking back fondly on the simpler days of freedom and curiosity.

Stepping back, he blessed Chad with his walking stick, tapping him on each shoulder with it. Go in peace. Be at peace. The old man then turned and shuffled back the way they’d come. Sobered by the leader’s words, Chad watched the old man until he rounded a curve in the trail.

Turning about, he hopped across the creek, then climbed the other bank. There, he found his friends, Jorge and Brett, waiting for him. Both had small packs strapped to their backs and grinned at his surprise. You didn’t think we would let you go off on your own, did you? Jorge said. We’d planned all along to walk with you for the first day and camp with you the first night.

We’ll be able to talk around the fire without the adults listenin’ in. The younger one, Brett, chimed in.

Where are you going first? Brett asked.

Anywhere I want, Chad boasted.

Not me. Jorge said. I’m staying here and marryin’ Nicole next spring.

Yuck! Brett said, shaking his head. Gettin’ married is for guys who want to be boring. Me, I wanna go exploring, like Chad.

The older boys laughed and Jorge tousled Brett’s hair.

Quit it! Brett brushed his curly mop back out of his eyes.

As the sun neared the horizon, the three youths found themselves in an unfamiliar area. They hadn’t wandered this far away from the village alone before. For a time, they were unsure of their way. A pile of rocks left as trail markers put them back on the path.

Under a spreading tree beside a large stream, Chad used his flint and steel to start a fire. His friends contributed kindling and small pieces of fallen branches they’d gathered after dropping their packs at the campsite. Huddled close to the small fire to ward off the evening’s dampness, they regaled each other with memories of their real and imagined exploits. Chad described the faraway places he hoped to see. They crawled into their bedrolls when Brett yawned hugely.

Chapter 2: A New Village Home

The three awoke to find their bedroll covers soaked with dew. The air was chill and a light fog surrounded them. Except for murmurs from the stream, the silence was absolute.

Pulling kindling from under a ground cover, they soon had a small but cheery fire crackling. They pooled their rations of eggs, nuts, and fruit. The smell of their fire accented their meal.

When the sun had burned off the fog, they cleaned up the site, then hoisted their packs. Chad doused the fire. Facing his long-time friends, he said, Thank you for coming with me, guys.

We’re glad too. Besides, it got us out of the village for a few days! Brett said with a grin. Jorge punched him in the shoulder and said, Come on, Brett, we have to head back now or we won’t make it back before sundown.

Jorge held out his hand and said, May the path rise to meet your feet, and may you find friends wherever you go.

Thank you, Jorge. I look forward to returning and telling of what I found. He paused and then added, I’ll try to bring back something for each of you from the Before-Time.

Jorge snorted. Just bring yourself back in one piece. With a mate, if possible!

With that, he grabbed Brett by a sleeve and pulled him back the way they had come. Chad watched his friends disappear around a curve in the trail, then turned away.

As he walked in the warming sun, he wanted to see if he could move silently. It wasn’t long before he stole within a few paces of a doe and her tiny fawn. The doe spotted him when he swatted at a fly exploring his nose. He smiled as the doe fled, her fawn struggling to keep up.

For the next week, he traveled wherever his curiosity took him. He explored before-time structures and some caves. One day, he encountered a larger cave blowing chilly air out of a steep-sided hole in the ground. Some crumbling pour-stone steps led down to a corroded gate.

Creating a torch out of an oil-soaked rag bound tightly to a green stick, he worked his way into the cave. A scattering of artifacts showed people had once used or occupied the cave. Deep in the cave, the path forked. Turning right, he followed the wider path.

A metal rail with a chain dangling from one end marked the end of the path. There was more to the cave beyond the reach of his torch. A sense of dark immensity urged him to backtrack his trail.

Retracing his steps, he saw traces of old fires and scattered debris. Why would anyone live in here? It’s cold and empty. I wonder where they got their water? A glint to one side of his path led him to a piece of oddly shaped glass. It was polished and had a shallow groove around the edge. Holding it up to his eye, everything appeared bigger. He pocketed his find.

His torch was failing. Shielding his eyes from the light, he couldn’t see any light from the entrance. Nothing around him was burnable. He searched frantically and found a bit of rag sticking out from under a rock.

Propping his dying torch against a rock, he heaved the rock aside. The cloth was very soft. His torch sputtered and nearly went out.

Uh-oh.

He cast around for something to bind the cloth to. A shiny metal pole with several thin metal sticks attached at one end caught his eye. Quickly knotting the shirt to the pole, he poured most of his tiny stock of oil onto the shirt, then touched it to the dying sparks of his torch. It flared to life, and he hurried towards the exit. A sudden sound caused him to glance at his torch. Liquid flame dropped to the ground with a ‘Vvviip’, leaving sputtering spots marking his trail. The torch guttered and died minutes later, plunging the area into absolute darkness.

Oh crap.

Chad waited several dozen heartbeats for his eyes to adjust to the dark. Maybe I’ll see the light from the entrance.

Nothing.

Shivering from the chill air, he pondered his next move. He was still facing the entrance, but could lose the path if he wandered in the dark. My flint!

Digging into the pouch at his waist, he pulled out his flint and steel. Striking sparks gave him flashes of his surroundings. Pacing to the limits of each flash, he retraced his steps. The cool breeze from behind assured him he was heading in the right direction.

A distraction caused him to drop the flint. He dropped to his knees and felt around in the direction he’d heard the stone bouncing. Damn! Failing to find the precious flint, he squatted and considered his next move. While pondering his situation, he saw a difference in the blackness ahead. He hoped the faint change in the surrounding dark wasn’t merely his imagination.

No. It really is lighter in that direction.

On his hands and knees, he crept forward, feeling his way. Stones set into the floor marked the trail. Keeping his left hand against the rocky border, he crept towards the light. When the path became clear, he lunged to his feet and raced out of the cave.

Climbing the steps back into the warm sunshine, he shivered at how close he had come to losing his way in the cave. That was a stupid stunt. What was I thinking!

Later that day, he came to a small swift-flowing stream. He followed its course westward until it merged into a larger stream.

Hungry, he paused in the shade of a grove of trees and chewed some jerky. I need to hunt. I’m about out of meat. I need some fruit and nuts too, if I can find them before the squirrels get ‘em.

Two days later, the larger stream flowed out into a vast grassland with few trees. He paused under the shade of the last tree.

There’s no cover out there. Where would I find food? looking north, then south, he turned south. While cresting a rise, he spotted a thin ribbon of smoke to the east. He sat on a rock in the warm afternoon sun to think. I’m out here to explore and meet new people. If I ignore the smoke, I’ll never see who made the fire. Decided, he pushed off and headed east. Encountering a faint trail heading towards the smoke, he followed it, pausing frequently to scan his surroundings.

His father had told him stories of when he’d encountered people that tried to steal his supplies. Chad also remembered fireside stories of times long past, when the area had been more dangerous. His father had warned him to always use caution when approaching another village or a person he didn’t know.

A sound ahead! Plunging into the bushes on the downwind side of the trail, he crouched and froze. Moments later, two men strode by, dressed in well-worn leather pants and faded cloth shirts. They were wearing small packs and carrying bows. A large dog loped alongside them. It stopped to nose the trail where Chad had stepped off the trail, looked around, then caught up to the men when one of them whistled.

Chad counted a hundred heartbeats before returning to the trail. I’m lucky that dog didn’t find me.

Inhaling slowly, he tasted the air. Not detecting any threats, he stepped onto the trail, continuing east.

The trail was becoming more well-traveled. He spotted evidence of a nearby village or large camp; No fallen wood under the trees. A wisp of blond hair caught on a twig. A child’s petulant cry diverted him off the trail. He crept into a dense stand of trees atop a rise.

Shedding his pack, he readied his crossbow, cocking it and placing a steel bolt in the breech. Cautious steps brought him into view of the village.

It nestled in a shallow dell near a large stream. The untrampled grass in the open areas told him it was new to the area. He looked around to see if he was being watched.

Looking back at the village, he saw children playing. A couple of older boys tussled near the stream. One boy pushed the other into the water. A young woman scolded them.

Strips of meat and fish dried on racks. A young woman appeared at the edge of the village with a basket under her arm, and a baby slung in a carrier across her back.

Where’re the men? There should be several for a village this size. Even with the two I saw earlier, there should be more.

While the village seemed peaceful enough, approaching while the men were away was unwise.

As the sun reached late afternoon, he withdrew and worked his way downwind into the trees, watchful for anyone lurking nearby. His pack was where he’d stashed it, the telltale still in place. Shouldering the pack, he headed back to the trail, carrying the crossbow.

A few hundred paces later, he heard a dog’s whine. Doffing the pack, he stashed it under some leaves, then stood behind a tree. A few heartbeats later, he saw the men he’d seen earlier, striding back towards their village. Each carried a string of rabbits and a couple of beaver slung over their shoulders. They would eat well for a few days.

He waited until he couldn’t hear them and counted a hundred heartbeats more before stepping out from his hiding place. Retrieving his pack, he stepped onto the trail and slipped away. Knowing he hadn’t accounted for all the men in the village, he approached curves in the trail with senses alert.

He made camp under an ancient oak and scouted around it while gathering firewood, a few handfuls of acorns, and a few late-season berries. He made a light meal of the berries and some jerky. Roasted acorns were dessert. Sated, he leaned against the trunk of the tree and debated approaching the village.

He hadn’t seen any trade goods other than the meat and fish. The women seemed comfortable with their surroundings, so they were probably safe to meet with. The open question was the attitudes of the men.

Eyeing his pack, he wondered, I wonder if they’ll barter for some dried meat?

He slept fitfully and awoke still undecided. He found some more berries for his morning meal, then washed in the chilly waters of a stream. Later, standing on the trail, the scent of wood smoke drifting past decided him.

While retracing the route of the day before, he debated about slinging his crossbow. Courtesy won out. Walking into a village carrying a weapon was asking for trouble. Leaving the weapon cocked, he returned the bolt to his pouch, then slung the crossbow over his pack, within easy reach.

Just outside the village, a man stepped out from behind a tree. Chad’s hand moved to his crossbow, but stopped. The man was holding his bow loosely in his left hand with an arrow fitted but not drawn. After a tense moment, the man smiled and spoke.

So, you came back.

Chad stared at the man in astonishment.

With a quiet chuckle, the stranger added. I saw you approach and watch us yesterday.

Chad’s embarrassment seemed to amuse the man even more. He laughed, then stepped forward to extend his right hand. I’m Darrel, the leader of this village.

Remembering his manners, Chad extended his hand and grasped Darrel’s. I’m Chad, from a village many days’ walk north and east of here.

Welcome, Chad. Will you do us the honor of joining us for the midday meal?

Bowing respectfully, he replied, If I may also contribute something to the meal.

Your company and news from afar are contribution enough.

Formalities over, Darrel slung his bow and stepped aside, gesturing for Chad to walk with him. Why didn’t you approach us yesterday?

Chad squirmed again, embarrassed his efforts at stealth had failed. My father and uncle told me stories of the men and villages they had visited or had heard about. Some were deceitful. Others would try to steal trade goods. One village made my uncle a slave to work their fields.

Darrel nodded, but said nothing. They had walked in silence a few paces when Darrel called out, Jim! Anthony! Our visitor has returned!

Chad watched in amazement as two men stepped out from the brush with bows held ready but not drawn. Both men eyed Chad. His crossbow’s still cocked, Darrel. The taller one said.

Darrel watched as Chad slowly reached over his shoulder for his crossbow, released the tension, then returned it to its place. The other men relaxed and shouldered their bows. Darrel introduced them.

Chad; this is Jim. He said, pointing towards the taller man. Chad shook his hand and said, Your welcome to me is like the sun after rain. Jim’s expression warmed only slightly.

Waving an open hand towards the other man, Darrel said, This is Anthony. Our scribe. Chad beamed as he announced, I apprenticed under Sherman the Scribe!

Anthony looked puzzled, then burst into a broad smile. I once met Sherman at a gathering many summers ago. I remember a young lad with him, an orphan boy. Are you he?

I apprenticed with Sherman for six years. How does that fit with your reckoning?

Anthony looked off into the distance and said, That seems about right. He looked back and added, The years have favored you, young Chad. He reached out his hand. May your eyes always take delight in the written word.

Chad clasped hands. And your hands ever delight in the feel of a book!

Bemused, Darrel broke in as said, We are well-met indeed! We look forward to hearing what news you have of the world.

Darrel led the group into the village. Children swarmed around them. At an open-sided shelter, the leader invited him to sit and rest. Shrugging from under the pack, Chad leaned it against a pole supporting the roof.

No one is to touch that pack! Darrel ordered. The children near the pack shrank away. Darrel looked at Chad and said, The children are very curious and I was afraid some things might end up broken… or missing! He eyed one of the older boys as he said this.

The boy’s face flamed red. I wasn’t going to touch anything!

Darrel held the boy’s eye until he turned and slunk away. Tim’s a good kid, but he has trouble remembering who owns what.

The village women joined their men at the table to meet Chad. They listened as he related what news he could recall of the world. The villagers shared what they knew with him. Some events were new to him. They ate the mid-day meal while recounting tales told around many campfires and family tables.

He learned the village sometimes attended the same gathering near the old place his village attended. When Darrel mentioned that Chad was a scribe, several people dashed to their huts and returned with treasured books or articles with writing on them. Chad pulled out his precious cloth and unfolded it reverently. The villagers grew quiet as he read from the books they presented to him. Some were school books, but a few were children’s readers. The youngsters laughed with delight as he pantomimed the story and used exaggerated voices. As the light faded, Darrel halted the readings and called for the evening meal. The older children topped off the oil lamps on the poles of the shelter and lit them. Their warm light kept the dark of night at bay.

When the food arrived, Darrel seated Chad next to him, then passed the plate of food presented to him, to Chad; a high honor. Chad nodded and waited until the rest of the adults had food as well. Darrel held his hands in front of him, palms up, intoning, May each of us enjoy the bounty of the Earth, and vow to never hurt her again!

The others murmured a reply and set to. Darrel waved at Chad’s plate, inviting him to eat. He didn’t need to be asked twice; he hadn’t eaten this well in days.

It was fully dark when they finished the meal. The children cleared the table and washed the dishes in the nearby stream. They stacked them on a shelf edge-on to dry.

The women soon hustled the children off to bed amid pleas to stay up. Darrel invited Chad to bed down in the open shelter.

Chad responded, Thank you all for the meal and the company. I realize my being here interrupted your day. He paused and then asked, "By the way; may I ask a question?

Darrel nodded. Chad swallowed and then asked, Since you knew I was here yesterday, why didn’t you approach me then?

We wanted to know your intentions. You were carrying a weapon. Our village was never in any danger, as we had you under our bows the entire time. Jim examined your pack, and we learned you were not out to cause harm.

But the telltale was still in place!

Jim chuckled. I saw you put the twig against the pack. I replaced it when I finished looking.

Darrel saw Chad’s expression close in with anger.

Would you have done any different? Were our positions reversed?

Chad glanced at the surrounding faces, seeing concern, but no hostility. He drew a deep breath and released it slowly, reaching for inner calm. Turning back to Darrel, he answered, No. I guess I am grateful you were honorable enough to not take anything. That pack is all I have.

Then what about the pouch under your shirt?

Reflexively grasping the bag through his shirt, Chad said, It contains trade goods from my village.

Darrel nodded. Your village must trust you. That speaks well of your character. Tomorrow, we’ll bargain.

I look forward to it.

On that note, the adults headed off to their huts. Darrel remained nearby until he had unrolled his bedroll. Sleep easy tonight, Chad. Our village is well-guarded.

They shook hands again, and he watched as Darrel entered a larger hut and closed the flap. Chad snuggled into his bedroll, glad to sleep without having to be watchful.

Chapter 3: Sara

Chad awoke to a small grinning face peering at him from behind a post. The tyke couldn’t have been over three years of age.

Good morning, young one!

The grin grew even wider and then burst into a giggle. Feeling something on his face, he reached up to touch his cheek. His fingers came away black.

The child ran away, laughing and calling out to his friends. They came running and peered at Chad as he stood up. The peals of laughter brought the adults from their huts, who then joined their children in good-natured humor. One woman ducked back into her hut, then re-emerged with a cloth and a bowl. She approached Chad with a shy smile and said, I’m sorry Rollo painted your face. This will wash it off. She presented the cloth and bowl to him.

He accepted them and returned to the table to wash his face. Partway through his efforts, he heard a sharp cry from a young child, followed by insulted sobbing. The perpetrator had received his reward. Chad grinned as he scrubbed the black smudges from his face.

A nearly intact mirror appeared over his shoulder. His eyes followed the graceful arm back to where it joined with a lovely young woman. Thank you. was all he got out around tight throat muscles.

She smiled, then pointed to her own face. He looked in the mirror and saw the child had drawn circles around his eyes, and a line under his nose.

How did I not feel this?

He cleaned off the rest of the smudges and returned the mirror to his benefactor. Thank you…?

Sara. Glad to meet you, Chad. She bobbed her head once and withdrew.

I see our jokester has initiated you into the clan!

Chad turned to find Darrel grinning at him. He shrugged and answered, I’m sure I did similar things when I was growing up.

The morning meal will be ready shortly. After we eat, we can begin bartering.

Chad nodded. He shook out his bedroll, then rolled it up and lashed it to the top of his pack.

After a breakfast of eggs, berries and beaver meat, the children cleared the table. Chad brought out his least valuable trade articles first. Darrel had the others bring their trade goods, and the bargaining began.

As the noon meal approached, Darrel called a halt. The participants gathered their treasures and cleared the table.

We all seem to be happy with our trades. Darrel observed. Is there anything you want for your journey?

"I saw some drying meat and fish. Could I trade for some dried meat?

Done!

But we didn’t bargain!

As the leader, I can reward people that benefit the village. Reading from our books yesterday merits some dried meat.

Thank you, Darrel. I was more than happy to read to you all. I read for pleasure and for barter. I enjoy learning new things, so I considered it a fair trade.

We too enjoyed the new knowledge. Waving to take in the drying racks, empty now, Darrel added, We have more than enough to share with you. Besides. Darrel leaned in to add in a whisper, Sara seems to have taken a liking to you!

The memory of Sara’s gentle smile caused his face to flame red. Darrel’s smile widened.

Ah! Have I touched a nerve?

Chad struggled to come up with a reply. Darrel saved him the trouble by grasping him gently by the shoulder and saying, You are welcome to stay with us until you are ready to move on. By the way; winter is not too far away. Where were you planning on staying?

He’d planned to continue south into the warmer areas he’d heard about. He wanted to see trees with feathers for leaves and lizards that were as long as a man. See birds that waded in water and had pink feathers. Visit the ocean, wade in the water, and taste the salt.

"Of course, you could stay here for the winter and continue on your way in the spring!"

Sara appeared, carrying a platter of food for the noon meal. Chad watched as she set the tray on the table and then flashed a shy smile at him. Darrel saw the color creeping up the back of the young man’s neck, knowing Chad’s face was again flaming red.

Struggling to find the words, he glanced at Darrel, who backed away, leaving him to wrestle with his decision.

Chad walked out of the village to think, following a faint trail leading up a nearby knoll. At the top of the hill, he cast eyes southward and imagined the sights he was to see should he continue on.

A swelling of noise from the village caused Chad to turn and glance back. Children were running around a table, snatching morsels and being shooed away by the adults.

What’s going on?

He trotted back down the hill, only to be swarmed by enthusiastic children. Confused, he allowed himself to be pulled towards the adults.

Once there, the children became a boisterous background while the adults ushered him to a seat at Darrel’s right hand. It wasn’t lost on him that Sara was sitting on Darrel’s other side.

He sat down, then watched as the women placed a generous plate of roasted rabbit and baked potatoes in front of him. The ear of roasted corn was a real treat; one of his favorite foods.

Why the celebration? Why is Sara seated at the head of the table, too? She met his eye when he looked her way. He blushed and looked away.

Darrel and the rest of the adults watched this byplay.