The Way of the Beast

***

  A late snow did not deter the villagers of Bruvaal from planning for Vale Fest, the annual spring holiday. It was a celebration of surviving yet another winter, as well as a time of community prayer to the god of the Vale (or privately to the old gods) for fair weather, good harvests and healthy livestock. With everyone attending, it was also a day to pursue or announce consenting courtships with anyone of age.

  Wares were bartered cheaply at the outdoor Fest. Games were played by young and old alike. A feast was held on long tables in the afternoon; roasted lambs, early-growth vegetables, cheeses and dark breads were always the traditional fare. All of the supplies needed for the Fest were given or made freely. Every villager contributed something, as their morals and religion decreed.

  Because Tullgar was well of the age to pay court to any willing women, Halivik and Baraide spoke of the possibilities as they lay in bed on the morning of the Vale Fest. "I worry for him," Baraide said. "Tull is so shy and slow of thought. What girl would choose him?"

  "The kind who wants a pure heart, a gentle hand and the strength of a bison, I'd hope," Halivik replied as he wiped the sleep from his eyes. "Don't fret, Bara. Tull has a kind face to go along with all his brawn. Some women like that, I hear. And if he doesn't get the attention of any locals this time, I'll bring him with me when I travel to Huuvik later in the season. I was going to have him along, anyway. Perhaps he'll catch a woman's eye there." He turned and looked at his wife. "That was how it worked for me, after all, when I travelled with my father to Raudeen."

  Baraide licked her thumb and smoothed a rebellious hair in her husband's thick mustache. "You were lucky I'd just come of age to be courted."

  "I'd also begun to build my own home. That helped you to accept my offer, didn't it?" he asked with a knowing grin.

  "Only when you added onto it to make room for children; a man with fine furs and good looks wasn't enough," she answered with a playful nudge. "This reminds me... Has Tull chosen a spot for his own home yet?"

  Halivik nodded. "It'll be just to the northwest, next to that cluster of tall gold pines nearer to the trail. Once the chimney is up, you may be able to see it from our front door. Tull won't be far from home, if that's what worries you."

  After only a moment's hesitation - because that was exactly what Baraide was concerned about of her simple son - she said, "My only worry is that you'll soon be too lazy to get out of bed any longer, you old boar." She pulled out of his frisky grip with a laugh and stood. "Come on, then. We've a big day ahead. Check on the children. I'll have morning-meal ready when you come in."

  Halivik found his daughter Irisella out in the herb garden, rather than cleaning winterberries as she was supposed to be doing. She sat between two sage bushes (which were surprisingly coming into bloom) while playing with a wooden doll Tull had carved for her. Curiously, the little girl had two colorful butterflies resting on top of her head. Halivik wanted to be stern with his reminder of Iri's chores, but his words came out gently; he couldn't gather a temper for his chestnut-haired gem.

  Tullgar sat on a stump not far from Iri, making final trimmings on a number of staves intended for one of the contests later that day. He told his father he'd already seen to his early chores. Tull went on to say that Sten had finished his own chores as well, and had gone to catch some fish for the feast. Neither of the boys was overly fond of roasted lamb, he remembered.

  A short walk later, Halivik caught sight of Stenhelt. The boy sat on a large rock along the winding waterline of Scroll Creek, lazily holding a fishing pole while its line stretched out into the heavy spring current. On one side of Sten was a fish basket and a hoop net; on the other was an adult otter eating a fish. Halivik was unprepared for the sight. He had only seen his son's strange abilities used in combat and hunting, not in a calm setting with a wild animal by his side.

  The otter slipped into the water when Halivik came closer. Sten looked over his shoulder, smiled in greeting at his father, and then turned his attention back to his pole when the line went taut. Halivik hurried over, grabbed the net, and helped his son haul in a large sky-fin trout. There wasn't much room left in the basket; Sten had some luck that morning. "Were you planning to feed the whole village today?" he asked his boy with a grin.

  "I'd have to catch every fish from here to Cliff Lake for that," Sten said while baiting his hook.

  There were a few long moments of silence after the line was cast back into the water. "So, the otter..." Halivik finally said. "Is it a friend of yours?" He meant the question as a joke, but suddenly wondered if that was the truth of it.

  Sten shrugged while watching his line. "I cleared the snow from this rock. He chose to bring his own food up here. I didn't mind."

  "Ah," Halivik replied with a nod, unsure of what to say about the strange occurrence. Solitary otters did not stay in the company of men, let alone sitting down next to one for a meal. "Is that a new trick Tovira taught you? I noticed you've been in better spirits when you've returned from Oma-Krin manor lately..."

  "I did learn a new trick, but nothing to do with otters."

  "Then do your cheerful moods have something to do with Nildur's daughter?"

  Sten glanced over at his father with a frown. "You mean Silga? She's a friend, but the girl can't even stand the sight of blood. I'd never take her hunting."

  Halivik held back a chuckle, thinking that hunting would be young Stenhelt's idea of courtship. He would soon learn what girls wanted; Sten wasn't the biggest boy, but he was strong and had his mother's fetching looks. In a cycle, perhaps less, hunting wouldn't be as important. "If it's not the herdsman's daughter, then what is it?"

  "I think Lady Krin was sad I wasn't learning much anymore, so I've been trying harder with the lessons that make me curious. She smiles more now."

  Pride swelled in Halivik's chest once again. He gripped Sten's shoulder and said, "You're a good boy. As long as you come away from the effort with a warm heart, pleasing others is a fine thing. And you've learned a new trick? I haven't seen it yet."

  With another shrug, Sten said, "It's not much, but it may come in handy. I can draw water."

  Halivik slowly groomed his mustache with his fingers while he pondered the vague statement. "Perhaps you could show me what you mean."

  Stenhelt stood and pulled his line from the water. He led his father over to a patch of ground where the snow had melted. They both squatted; Halivik watched his son dig out some dirt and then cupped his hands facing up over the small hole. He watched those hands for a moment, then glanced at Sten's face and saw the boy's scowl of concentration. Halivik looked back down and saw his son's hands miraculously filling with clear water.

  Sitting back stunned, he began to ask, "How... How did..."

  "It took a while to learn, but Lady Krin showed me how to pull water from the ground. I thought it'd be helpful if I ever ran dry on a hunt, or if our well went low."

  "Helpful indeed," Halivik muttered, finally finding his tongue again. "Well, I'll give you a bit more time out here, but your mother will have food ready soon." After striding off a short distance, he stopped and thought about what he'd just witnessed. Those abilities - some that even a former Maker couldn't explain - were beyond the acceptance of common folk. It soured Halivik to think it, but he wished that Sten could've simply been a normal boy. Forcing a smile, he turned back to his son and called out, "Aim well at the archery games today! You might best me yet!"

  Sten smiled as well, although his was genuine. "I'll try," he called back, "but I make no wagers against the best hunter in Kaldevarr."