***
The tracks were fresh; the lone bull elk was close. It was the animal's pre-dawn bugle that woke Sten in his treed hammock. He wanted to bring a large kill back home; the few squirrels from the day before were only enough for camp meals and a pair of mittens for Iri when winter came again. Something more substantial was needed to add to his father's meat cellar.
Being early summer, the bachelor elk somewhere to the south had just begun calling to gather females. By the single set of tracks, it hadn't had any luck yet.
Sten was hoping to return home earlier than expected, if only to impress his father. He would otherwise have preferred to stay out in the Cragwood as long as he could. Three days were all that was allowed, though. Sten couldn't complain; his father could have held him back from lone hunting trips for another two cycles. That was the custom. However, his father said that he trusted Sten's ability and judgment. He was determined to validate his father's faith in him.
Perceptions had changed a season before at the Vale Fest. Sten began to see his father in a different light on that day. He'd always revered his father, and found that many of the villagers had high esteem for him as well. Not so much in spoken words, Sten realized, but in their reactions to him. Even the bailiff and Luddsel the retired soldier gave nods of respect when Halivik strolled by.
Countering that was the looks on a few faces nearing the end of the archery game. There were sad, understanding expressions when Sten didn't best his father's aim in the last number of shots. A few folks, including his mother, seemed to know that Sten faltered on purpose. He could have won, but didn't want to take any of the respect his father had earned over so many cycles of helping to feed the village. Sten took no pride in knowing he could best his hero.
The elk tracks led around a large patch of underbrush and toward a clearing that lay ahead. Sten's sharp hearing caught a number of sounds from that open space as he moved; birdsong, the burble of a rocky creek, and a snort of his prey in the distance.
Reaching the clearing, Sten took in the panorama of the small valley. Enclosed by heavy woods, it was an oasis of sunshine and blue sky. The hazy heights of the distant Skean Peaks could be seen over the forest canopy. Patches of the lush grasses were cropped by recent grazing on either side of a narrow brook. On the far end of the roughly oval valley, water flowed through a gap in low boulders.
Two figures were immediately noticed. Out near the boulders but still within bow range was the elk. Much closer to Sten was the herbalist, Chohla, who sat in a patch of wildflowers next to the brook. Sten was torn; he wanted to meet with the wise wanderer, but the elk would provide meals and good leather. Going after the kill first might have disrespected the herbalist. Greeting him first would most likely spook the animal.
Chohla, who noticed Sten in return, made the decision for him. The young hunter watched as the herbalist grabbed at a nearby tuft of grass, held up his deeply tanned arm and released the blades. It was a clear signal to take the shot and adjust his aim for the breeze. Sten stood at the tree line and waited for a broadside shot. Soon enough, he let an arrow fly. A heart shot - the elk didn't run far before it dropped.
"A fine kill, Khoveyo," Chohla called out. "Bring your prize back to my camp when you can."
Sten nodded and gave a wave of thanks before he jogged out to the downed elk. A short time later, the large gutted animal was hung by its antlers under a tripod of dead branches near Chohla's camp. Sten didn't see a camp, though - it looked to him like a spot where the herbalist simply decided to stop and sit near the high banks of the rambling brook. There was no fire, only a number of wooden bowls and gathered plants.
Sitting back down among his many bowls after helping Sten hang the carcass, Chohla said, "You've gotten taller. How have you fared since we met last?"
"Well enough," Sten answered simply as he sat in the soft grass near the herbalist.
Chohla smiled. "Still the chatty one, eh, Khoveyo? Perhaps a slow tongue hides a quick mind. It is our wits that we live by, no? Many words are simply for entertainment."
"Some are for teaching," Sten offered with a shrug.
"So they are," Chohla agreed. "Other than to commend you on your aim, I won't waste more words on idle chat. You probably want to return home soon."
Sten glanced at the elk off to his right. "My hunt was met. I'm in no hurry now."
"Ah, that is good. I hoped we might trade." Chohla saw Sten's scowl of confusion. "I have no interest in the elk. A trade of ideas and skills is what I mean. You show me those tricks your Lady Krin taught you, and I will show you a new skill that might benefit you in many small ways."
"What new skill?"
Chohla lifted a bowl and replied, "Paint and symbols, Khoveyo. Colors are made from what nature provides, and the shapes drawn with them direct their intent. For example, a wavy green stripe across your chest will keep most insects off you while you sleep. It works best when the paint is made from arrowleaf and stormberries. Green dots along your cheeks will help you sleep, and awake refreshed. A red circle around your eye will better your aim with a bow, not that you need much help there. Red down the nose and arms helps aim with a spear."
"That will help - paint?" Sten asked doubtfully.
Chohla nodded. "In a small way, but yes; you are more attuned to nature because of your blood and heritage. There are many variations of symbol and color to master, should you choose to learn them. If you painted a line on your chest in blue instead of green, it would cause a very different effect. There are symbols for war, peace, survival, travel, and other matters in life."
Sten was nodding his head before he realized he was doing so. "Yes," he said softly, "I would like to learn about such things, master Chohla."
"That pleases me, and I am glad to share my knowledge with you. We will begin with making paints and drawing simple symbols. After a time, you can show me your tricks on that fine elk."
Sten nodded his agreement of the suggestion, but with a frown. Chohla leaned forward and waited for the boy to speak of his concern. "Master Chohla," he finally said, "you say there are many things to learn about paint and symbols. I can't learn them all in one day, and there is no guessing when we'll cross paths again."
Chohla leaned back and casually responded. "I have a feeling we'll cross paths more frequently, at least for a good while. Each time, I'll show you a few new symbols and how different colors affect them. The basics will come first. Perhaps in time you may learn the high sigils."
"The high sigils..." Sten couldn't help but wonder. "What are those?"
"All in good time, Khoveyo," Chohla answered with a grin. He set a mortar and pestle in front of him and then grabbed a small pile of blue orchids. "We will begin with this," he said as he began to grind the flower petals. "Blue is the color of intellect and wisdom. It may well help you learn and remember. Belief in the power of painted symbols is up to you, although I see its benefits with every use."
It was enough assurance for Sten. He handed Chohla a bowl of water and waited eagerly.