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A shadow creeps up the hillside.
In single file, two boys follow the edge of one of the great patches of grass that grow in this country. They tiptoe briskly through the half-tunnel formed by the tall, drooping stalks, disturbing not a single plant. Their movement shows the surety of experience--to anyone who can see them. But no one, nothing is visible, except for rocky dirt, and scattered vegetation, and the round silhouette of the hill against the blue-white sky. Other than this one shadow of two boys, nothing moves.
Where the grass patch's border climbs to its highest point upon the hill, the boys stop. The elder boy gestures up the slope. "There," he says. His companion stares that way intently, his face taut with concentration and fear.
It's only a great mound of vines up there, standing over a depression. This type of shrub, though it may grow large enough to conceal even the largest monsters, is really the least of the dangers that teenage boys like these might encounter while wandering in the hills outside their village--its thin, woody vines are too dry and tough for any large animals to be interested in them, and at their base they make an irritating powder that anything living hates to touch, even the most poisonous grass snake. Really, its gnarled top may be the safest place around, should something worth hiding from come around.
But still, the boys approach it in perfect silence, their intense eyes twitching this way and that. They move like hunters, but they look like they want to flee. At the depression they stop. The ground here is moist; there must be a basin of rock beneath to hold the rains, then, for it hasn't rained in days. And the shade of the giant shrub keeps off the hot evening sun... it makes sense that only here would a footstep show.
"Aenu," whispers the older boy to his companion, as he points down to the dent in the damp earth. His companion, Aenu, reaches down and slowly traces the edge of the print. A vee shape, twice the length of a human's foot, but cleft almost to the heel... he knows what made this.
"Brother, it's an adult," he whispers. "You wanted us to kill an adult?" His features are tough, but now he looks like he's about to cry.
His brother sways for a moment on suddenly weakened legs. "Idiot. How do you know that?" he hisses back heatedly. "I thought--everyone says their toes are as big as our spears." He gestures at the two oblong shapes in the dirt, as if to emphasize how much smaller they are than spears.
"Esuly, it's just stories," moans the younger boy. "Please, let's go, it was probably just passing through."
But Esuly hesitates. He studies the footprint with a hunter's eye. He still wants to take home the greatest trophy.
And before either can move, a rustle sounds from the other side of the hilltop. Aenu gasps and almost chokes; his eyes are wide with terror. Esuly grabs his arm and wrenches him back toward the grass, but Aenu only topples backward. "It's only somebody from the village, fool," hisses Esuly, though he knows nothing of the sort. "You're the chief's son, be a man!" The two struggle noisily toward their hiding place, all their hunters' grace gone. And the rustle comes nearer; maybe it's a person's footsteps.
But who has come this way, where there is no fruit to gather, and no stream to drink from--nothing but grass and vines and peaceful emptiness?
A shadow creeps up the hillside.
In single file, two boys follow the edge of one of the great patches of grass that grow in this country. They tiptoe briskly through the half-tunnel formed by the tall, drooping stalks, disturbing not a single plant. Their movement shows the surety of experience--to anyone who can see them. But no one, nothing is visible, except for rocky dirt, and scattered vegetation, and the round silhouette of the hill against the blue-white sky. Other than this one shadow of two boys, nothing moves.
Where the grass patch's border climbs to its highest point upon the hill, the boys stop. The elder boy gestures up the slope. "There," he says. His companion stares that way intently, his face taut with concentration and fear.
It's only a great mound of vines up there, standing over a depression. This type of shrub, though it may grow large enough to conceal even the largest monsters, is really the least of the dangers that teenage boys like these might encounter while wandering in the hills outside their village--its thin, woody vines are too dry and tough for any large animals to be interested in them, and at their base they make an irritating powder that anything living hates to touch, even the most poisonous grass snake. Really, its gnarled top may be the safest place around, should something worth hiding from come around.
But still, the boys approach it in perfect silence, their intense eyes twitching this way and that. They move like hunters, but they look like they want to flee. At the depression they stop. The ground here is moist; there must be a basin of rock beneath to hold the rains, then, for it hasn't rained in days. And the shade of the giant shrub keeps off the hot evening sun... it makes sense that only here would a footstep show.
"Aenu," whispers the older boy to his companion, as he points down to the dent in the damp earth. His companion, Aenu, reaches down and slowly traces the edge of the print. A vee shape, twice the length of a human's foot, but cleft almost to the heel... he knows what made this.
"Brother, it's an adult," he whispers. "You wanted us to kill an adult?" His features are tough, but now he looks like he's about to cry.
His brother sways for a moment on suddenly weakened legs. "Idiot. How do you know that?" he hisses back heatedly. "I thought--everyone says their toes are as big as our spears." He gestures at the two oblong shapes in the dirt, as if to emphasize how much smaller they are than spears.
"Esuly, it's just stories," moans the younger boy. "Please, let's go, it was probably just passing through."
But Esuly hesitates. He studies the footprint with a hunter's eye. He still wants to take home the greatest trophy.
And before either can move, a rustle sounds from the other side of the hilltop. Aenu gasps and almost chokes; his eyes are wide with terror. Esuly grabs his arm and wrenches him back toward the grass, but Aenu only topples backward. "It's only somebody from the village, fool," hisses Esuly, though he knows nothing of the sort. "You're the chief's son, be a man!" The two struggle noisily toward their hiding place, all their hunters' grace gone. And the rustle comes nearer; maybe it's a person's footsteps.
But who has come this way, where there is no fruit to gather, and no stream to drink from--nothing but grass and vines and peaceful emptiness?