The Hunter of Things Not Seen

[bruorton]

[this story is a follow-up to this concept piece]

A brief summary of the primary genders of the First People:
- Pneot: attuned to air and sky and things that breath; usually hunters
- Geot: attuned to the earth and water; usually foragers and fishers
- Hleots: attuned to sun and fire; keepers of the camp, teachers, crafters, raising of children
- Praots: anyone changing from one gender to another, or bridging or in between genders; attuned to change, esp. birth and death. Most often those who bear children.
- Rmaots: rare, attuned to strange and unusual things, like time or dreams. Typically seek out their own unique calling.

Children were considered genderless until one clearly expressed itself.

~

Tsaki was in prar sixth hour of labor when Chele became hopelessly bored and wandered off. Chele had come along in the first place due to delusions of grandeur -- which, being so young, had proven easily dispelled. Wone had recently become a midwife at only 15, and Chele had overheard two adults discussing with admiration how Wone had been observing births for about as long as hle could walk. Thus inspired, when the midwife group, the payen, had gathered to accompany Tsaki to prar chosen birth site, on what passed for a mountain near the village, the eight-year-old Chele could not be dissuaded from going along.

Chele’s aspiration to Wone’s achievement faded quickly, however, when faced with the reality of strain, panting, the midwife’s endless massaging song, then cries of pain as the cycle repeated yet again. It felt endless to Chele, at any rate; they stayed quite a while out of sheer stubbornness, but finally slipped away. Nobody in the payen took notice, since it was not on them to amuse a child who had been told there would be no fellow children coming along to play with.

Chele had also been told it would be cold on the mountain, but the birthing hut that the payen had built the day before had been more than warm enough in the night, what with the motra fire that would be kept burning until the afterbirth was put before it to dry. The labor had started in earnest overnight, so Chele wandered out to look around the mountain once it got light enough, and the crisp, cool air felt refreshing after the closeness of the hut.

It had also snowed very lightly overnight, just enough to give the world a light dusting, though this was itself a dazzling novelty to the child. But it was not until Chele crossed a small band of trees to emerge at the edge of a clear, rolling slope that the true wonder was revealed. For there, in crisscrossing lines, were scores of fresh animal tracks running in every direction.

Chele was transfixed. It felt like a whole secret world had just unfurled before them like a flower. All the time, night and day, the world was alive with creatures moving about; Chele understood this, of course. But it was also understood that they mostly did so invisibly, and the magic of hunters was to intersect just right with this unseen world. But there, in that field, the wild world was on full display.

Chele had already begun to learn the fundamentals of tracking, and could recognize most of the animals that had passed through. For hours, they tiptoed back and forth across the field, at first just seeing where this grellet had gone, and whether the paws of the olloro had followed it into the woods or not. But ultimately, they just stood looking down from the top of the field, taking in the full swath at once, trying to wrap their child’s mind around a world so big and complex, which could yet speak to them so vividly as this.

Chele didn’t notice their stomach growling until the shadows started to lengthen, and they returned to the hut to witness Tsaki’s new baby, and join in the Birth Chant, what they knew of it. All dreams of being a midwife were now utterly forgotten. Chele knew what they wanted to be now, and that was a hunter.

This time, their childlike fascination did not subside. They returned home in due course, and ever after Chele could be found in the company of hunters, especially Plir and Vnesi, indisputably the best trackers the village had. But that vision of tracks in the snowy field stayed with Chele, luminous in memory, the rest of pner life. That chilly morning on the mountain had changed Chele in ways pne would not realize until years later.

~

To start with, while still a child, Chele developed the curious habit of replicating animal tracks. At first it was an idle hobby, and others took it as a means of reviewing everything they learned from the adult trackers. But by the time Chele was recognized as a hunter in pner own right, pne was able to create completely convincing trails in the muddy riverbank, the best place for this activity, and taught a number of other children using this method. Tiny everse, spotted olloro, nimble prembi, hopping ispin; every sort of claw, paw, foot, or tail mark. Grellet remained pner favorite, perhaps for its simplicity: with a nicely sharpened stick, the thin avian tracks could be quickly reproduced in quantity.

But when Chele was seventeen, pne was struck with the Withers. Pne suffered fever, then aches and pains in pner legs for several weeks. While thus incapacitated, despite the villagers best care and company, Chele found pner best distraction was drawing grellet tracks. Doing so might have grown old, except pne began to play a game with them, seeing how many different individuals pne could represent. One with a twisted toe, for instance, or one who had lost its hallux to a snapping tirtu. 

Chele got better. The strength in pner legs returned, and pne asked everyone in the village to join in the Grateful Chant, and there was even dancing, since pne was able to do that again. One never knew, with the Withers. Chele began hunting again, and forgot pner game for a time.

But one never knew, with the Withers. Less than a year later, pner legs began to weaken again. No fever this time; that wasn't the way of it. But everyone knew this was a risk once you'd had it. Chele hoped it might just be one leg, because with a limp one might not be a very good hunter, but pne could still go on hunts, be a tracker for others. Pne was already known as an authority on the subject. But pner luck was not good. Both legs weakened, and soon Chele could only walk with great effort, with someone on either side, or on crutches for very short distances.

Pne had a very dark time then. In spite of how generously the village assisted, and sometimes even because of it. Who was a hunter who couldn't hunt, a tracker who never again would prowl the forest? Yes, pner needs might be met by pner village, but whose needs could pne meet in exchange? And even such concerns aside, pne missed it keenly. The sense of being amid that hidden world, full of life and unseeable activity that pner skill alone could illuminate. The knowledge that pne would never feel that again, ever, was crushing. Chele gradually fell into despair. Pne began to think of eating villi root. 

Pne might have, too, were it not for a travelling rmaot who came into the village a few months on. Rnesa was a Listener, rma said, and claimed to have come because rma had heard a need in their village. Rnesa spoke to the village elders, and they sent rma to Chele. Chele was not interested, and out of spite as much as anything refused to speak to Rnesa. After the first hour of silence, rma kindly explained that speaking was not necessary. That speaking could help, but that Listening did not require it. That rma would stay and Listen, until they both understood what they needed to understand. 

It only took two days, during which Chele never spoke a word to the stranger. On the second evening, Rnesa finally came inside the hut the village had built for Chele -- rma had sat outside, night and day, until then -- and crouched before the young hunter. "A thundercloud has gathered in you, but no rain is falling," the Listener said. "Now you are just waiting for the lightning, I think." Rma paused for a long while. "I cannot heal your legs. Nobody can do that. But the thunder inside is deafening you to all else. If I could take that out of you, would you want me to?"

Chele looked into rmar eyes, and came very close to saying no. But pne also was tired of despair, of this hollowness that had filled pner heart. Weakly, pne nodded. Rnesa reached over and traced something on pner forehead, and said, "I have also heard a deep joy in you. Before I even met you, I heard that you know the ways of the forest like one much older. So tonight, before you sleep, go into your mind like you would go into the forest. Hunt for the joy you have lost. You must be a true hunter. You will know when you find it."

Chele lay on pner mat long into that night, searching for joy. Pne remembered happier times with friends, successful hunts, moments of pride, but these all felt utterly flat now, or worse, like insults. There was no joy in them. But pne did not give up. Rnesa had said, seek it like a hunter, and a hunter does not give up when there is no prey in the usual places. Pne kept going. Pne found nothing, but kept going, until pne fell asleep.

And in pner dreams, Chele saw again the snowy field, and the tracks running every way across it. And in pner dream, the field spoke to Chele at great length in an unknown tongue. 

And in pner dream, Chele understood everything it said.

~

The next day, Chele asked for dried weso, the torso-broad leaves used for roofing. Pne could not remember the language of pner dream, or what had been said, but that day and the next and for days after that, pne was absorbed in trying to recreate as much of that snowy field's tracks as possible. First, a catalog of all the types pne had seen there; then, across many leaves laid out across the floor of pner hut, pne attempted to replicate a sort of snowy field made of weso, tiny charcoal trails crisscrossing pner floor. 

The village began to grow curious, then concerned. Finally one of the elders, Mnolika, came to see Chele. Hle crouched just outside the door, loathe to disturb the bewildering array of leaves, and asked how Chele was feeling.

"I can't walk," pne replied. "But I am hunting something new, now. I will tell you when I have caught it."

Mnolika shook hler head. "I do not know what you are doing, but it does not look like hunting. Still, I am glad you feel a purpose, and as you are always here with us now, you should know we would welcome you as a hleot."

Chele laughed. "No, I am still a hunter. You will see."

Mnolika went away, and Chele returned to pner work. Soon, the project was complete. Gazing down at pner work, Chele's heart sank. Whatever the field had said, the leaves on the floor were mute. Pne almost gave up, but remembering Rnesa's words, pne decided pne must find a new approach. Pne considered for days without inspiration, until one night watching Seemu -- one of Mnolika's adult offspring -- dancing around the fire, wearing hler barkcloth skirts printed with animals. 

The next day pne approached Seemu, and asked about hler art. Hle agreed to teach Chele, and they spent many pleasant weeks together, as Chele learned how to use different parts of pner hand covered in pigment -- sometimes the fingers, or the palm, or the side of pner fist -- in different motions and combinations to represent different creatures. And Seemu explained as they worked, how as hle printed a ceremonial skirt hle would speak to the creatures hle was creating, thanking them for the different ways each supported the life of the tribe. Chele asked if hle ever represented other things -- like the sun, or fire, iconic sources for all hleots. Seemu, delighted, thought this was an excellent idea for hler next project. They discussed how best to represent each one, then naturally to the sources for pneots as well: sky, wind, and breath. 

Mnolika visited Chele again sometime in these months, all smiles and congratulations and asking when Chele would like to have the welcoming ritual done. Chele was confused. What ritual?

"To welcome you as a hleot," the elder answered.

"I am not hleot. I have told you before. I am pneot, I am a hunter."

"But you cannot hunt. You cannot roam with the wind beneath the sky. And at last you have accepted this, and apprenticed yourself to my child Seemu, who speaks to the spirits. You may never dance like hle does, but hler art is sacred and important. It is a good thing for the village to have another gifted in this way."

Chele grew angry. "I am a hunter. I do not care how it appears to you. I am still following the trail that I always have."

Mnolika looked disappointed, and perhaps a bit angry as well, but finally hle left pner alone.

Once Chele's anger had cooled, pne recognized that pne must not blame Seemu for hler parent's overbearing nature. Pne still felt a slight resentment, but pne knew Seemu did not deserve it. Also, Chele had begun to see how valuable Seemu's work was. Pne had come to understand that Seemu's prints were also like tracks, in their own way, signs of the world, so made that anyone could see and understand them, not just expert trackers. Pne eyed pner pile of weso leaves in the corner, the recreated field now set aside, and took up charcoal and began a new set of leaves. First, recreating in simple strokes each of the animals Seemu usually represented in greater detail, then the elements they had worked on together. Inspired, Chele then began to create symbols of other common things: a hut, a hill, an arrow, a person. An eye, an ear, a mouth. 

Pne realized that even more things could be represented by putting symbols together; a prembi and a mouth could mean the type of prembi which hooted and howled so much if it spotted you hunting it, while putting prembi with a hand could mean the type that seemed to be all hands, and moved so quickly from tree to tree. Actions could be created as well; a person under a tree could be resting. A person by a hut could be building.

Whenever Chele got stuck on a symbol -- how to represent "child," for instance, or "music" -- pne would consult Seemu, and they would spend hours or even days debating or experimenting with different ideas. Eventually, trying to decide on a proper symbol for "death," they approached Tsaki, who several years after giving birth on the mountain had become one of the group's leading authorities on death and its causes, even having taken over the job of sharing their collected knowledge with neighboring tribes when prar mentor Hzeno had died. Tsaki was at first quite puzzled by their project, but after several days of discussion and study, not only came up with an elegant solution, but declared their work exciting and important. 

"Death Tellers everywhere must memorize the Great Litany, the list of all the most important types and causes of death. It has a structure, of course, and there are many stories and other tricks to aid memory, but still only the most gifted can remember it all, for it grows longer in every generation. But your tracks could help many more to learn and memorize the Litany, and perhaps other things as well. If you printed a garment with certain tracks in the right order, they could prompt the Death Teller for each new segment, whether it had to do with the dangers of clomembi teeth, or fno berries, or so on."

Chele smiled. Pne had not only finally found someone who genuinely wanted what pne had been hunting so long, but pne finally understood pnerself what it was. The field had spoken to pner, and now pne and Seemu would print barkcloth garments which would speak to anyone who had learned the tracks they had made. 

Under Tsaki's direction, they set to work at once. And Chele's joy might have remained unalloyed for a long time, but for what pne overheard one day in the village. Practicing new symbols -- Tsaki had asked for something to represent "water under ground" and they were of different minds how to indicate this -- pne heard through the wall of pner hut the voice of Mnolika speaking with another clan leader. 

"Hle has grown immensely skilled, and I understand hle is now working closely with Tsaki on some important new project. We are lucky to have hler among us; one day, perhaps, hle will be well-known among all the clans." Chele was annoyed, but not entirely surprised, that Mnolika was praising Seemu while ignoring Chele's contributions.

But then Mnolika continued, "It has taken time, and I think a bit of confusion, which is understandable given hler illness. But it's good to see hler coming around to hler true calling."

Chele felt the blood drain from pner face. If the older hleot had been within reach, pne would have slapped hler. A cold fury welled up inside, and seizing pner crutches Chele managed to stagger out of pner hut in time to see the two interlocutors moving away.

"I am pneot!" pne screamed at their receding backs, causing them -- and quite a few others in the vicinity -- to turn toward them. A child pretending to dig wild tubers in the dirt a few feet away looked up, startled. "I am a hunter, and I will always be a hunter!" Tears were streaming down pner face now, tears of rage. "Just because you want me to be hleot, and to claim credit for what I am hunting, doesn't make me whatever you want me to be. Never, never call me that again!"

Mnolika looked baffled, and embarrassed, but as Chele watched these emotions melded slowly into anger. "We have cared for you all these years," hle barked back at pner. "We have looked after you, because you were one of us. But you insist on these childish notions. You wanted to be a hunter when you were little, and then you didn't get to be one, and it's time you grew up and accepted it!" And with that, hle turned and stalked off.

They rarely exchanged words after that. A few months later, Mnolika actually left the village for a time; it appeared hler own authority had been somewhat marred by the exchange. No one could doubt the insult hle had paid Chele; and while pne heard later that hle tried to claim hle had meant that Chele had been looked after as one of the village, many thought it had sounded like hle meant that hle was favoring pner specifically as a hleot. And the perception that hle favored one gender over another in the village was more shameful than hle could face. Hle travelled to a sibling's clan, a day or so distant, and stayed there for many years.

~

Those years that followed proved fruitful for Chele, though intensely busy ones. As word of pner system of "word tracks" spread, first by Tsaki to prar fellow Death Tellers in nearby villages, but soon through that network to clans near and far, people began to make the journey to Chele's village, to learn the tracks pne had discovered that could tell not only of creatures, but plants and hills and people and ideas themselves. 

The first were Death Tellers, and even as word spread, they remained always the most common visitors. But praots came too, curious about this new thing. Hleots came, even some renowned tale tellers, for they had heard that Chele's tracks could tell someone of things which had happened far away, or long ago, or even which had happened only in one's imagination or dreams. These often had quibbles or suggestions about this track or that, alterations, additions, expansions to the system. Over time, it grew and changed. Chele suspected that it was changing even more, when these took it home to teach to others, along with any changes they saw fit to make. 

A few pneots were also among those who came, curious about how trees or clouds could have tracks, and these always gave Chele a special delight. For in pner heart, Chele had many moments of doubt. Pne would think of Mnolika, and despite pner fierce feelings towards hler personally, Chele could not help wondering if pne was truly still pneot, still a hunter. Was Mnolika right? Pne was mostly just a teacher now, almost all the time. And was that not the domain of hleots? Chele felt no special kinship with sun or fire, of course; but then, did pne feel much kinship for the sky or wind or breath these days, either? Pne thought often, still, about pner day long ago on the mountain, which had almost completely fused in pner memory with pner dream. The field had spoken to pner. It was still the most mystical experience in pner life; and were not geots the ones who listened to the earth? The doubts went in circles in pner head, and gnawed at pner on sleepless nights.

A few rmaots came also to learn pner tracks, and eventually, Rnesa turned up among them. After studying under Chele and Seemu for several weeks in rmar typical quiet fashion, Chele could stand the suspense no longer. "This is what I found when you told me to go hunting," pne said. "What do you think of it?"

Rnesa considered. Finally, rma said, "You were courageous enough to find your joy, Hunter. Because of it, you have given breath to a myriad words not yet spoken. Because of it, you have sent words down timeless winds to children born long after all our names are forgotten. They will look at your tracks, and speak with your voice, even if they will not know it." 

Chele had pnerself never realized until that moment that pne had been working with breath all along: not the breath of prey, but of words, of tales, of ideas. These were a prey that nobody had ever seen the tracks of, until now. Chele wondered if Rnesa had known that this was the best and most comforting thing anyone could ever have said to pner. 

But rma was a Listener, after all. Of course rma had known.

~

Time passed. Tsaki went hleot and became a traveling teacher of the tracks. Chele sometimes wished pne could have done the same, but pner legs never healed. By this time, Seemu had become praot and borne two children; pra took over Tsaki's role, having already learned much of the Great Litany from their long collaborative effort crafting garments to reflect it. 

There came a morning -- like many that had preceded it -- that found Chele working with Bmintu and Sodni, younger hleots who had learned the barkcloth printing technique from pner and Seemu. There was much demand for it, now. This morning, they were working on one of the unwearable skirts they had begun making of late. The first had been an effort to record a full version of the Litany in one place, but this one was a collection of all the nested stories relating to the culture hero Mehuzda, and it rolled up into a thick double scroll, as it was far too long to ever unroll completely. It was not unusual for curious visitors to come to study their work, even for those not interested in learning pner tracks themselves, so Chele did not take particular note of the few watching them this morning.

But when they took a break to stretch their backs and necks, Chele realized with a sudden rush who the old hleot was who had been sitting on the stump all morning. Pne felt a little flush of anxiety, but also of pity. Mnolika had aged visibly in the years since pne had seen hler last. Hle looked... so tired. 

Hle spoke first. "I came back to visit Seemu's children, but I also wanted to speak to you. I have thought about it all the time since that day, that I owe you an apology."

Chele did not speak. This seemed safer, and after all pne agreed with hler on this point.

Mnolika swallowed, hler eyes drifting away to gaze at the great scroll on its trestles, as if now that it came to it, hle was not quite able to utter the long-considered words. But hle pushed forward. "I was wrong to have thought you hleot. I did not understand you, or your work, and wanted to make it safe in my own mind. I confess I am still not comfortable with it. I fear it will make hleots lazy, for why memorize all there is to teach if a piece of barkcloth will do it instead? I am not the only one to have this thought. But I have also heard many more people praise it, and my sibling's grandchild, who is a born storyteller but struggles to memorize anything by rote, regards your tracks as essential as food.

"And so I have come to tell you I am sorry I made so many assumptions. About you, and the tracks you followed. And out of them, I spoke many unkind words. Even if I never do understand where your tracks are leading, I am proud to have known you, one of the great hunters of our time."

Chele was finding it hard to breathe. Pne levered up onto a seat where pne could face hler. "Thank you. It is good to hear you say this." Then, suddenly moved, pne confided in Mnolika a long-private thought. "I have often doubted myself. Not about who I am, and I do not think it will make us lazy. But Seemu once spent long days watching and speaking with each animal before printing a skirt with its image. Now I have given people these tracks who have never seen some of the things the tracks speak of. What if we forget what they mean -- not what they stand for, but what they mean? What if people grow so accustomed to the track of a creature, or a tree, or a place, that they never interest themselves in the thing itself?"

Mnolika contemplated pner for some time. "I do not have an answer. My life was teaching ritual, so I think: it would be nice, when you teach anyone the tracks, if you could also show them the thing itself first. Yet I know this is impossible. The purpose of the Great Litany, for one, is to tell of things you may never have seen to those who may also never see them. Your tracks make this easier--” Hle caught hlerself, and stopped short. “But I am not one to teach you. And you have already thought of all this, I expect."

Chele nodded, reflectively. "To speak of a thing you have not seen is a kind of power, I think, and in doing so I and all others approach the strange realm of the rmaot. Yet I am pneot. Most who do likewise are praot, or hleot. And now I have given anyone who wishes this power, and others are making of it already things I did not dream. I hear tales, of how because of it, there are even tracks for things we do not have words for: a track to mean thinking about tracks. Where will it end?

"Once, a field full of tracks spoke inside me. And now, I have spoken what I heard to the world, only to find the world is no longer the same one which spoke to me. Merely speaking has changed it, and now so many more are speaking. On my darker days I do fear for the world, Mnolika. I fear what the power I have created will do to it, and to our people." 

Hesitantly, the old hleot reached out a hand to pner. Hesitantly, Chele reached out and held it. "There are words from the Planting Chant," hle said. " 'We plant for mouths that have not asked.' Those who tend and gather fruit know that sometimes, we plant a tree so that our children's children will have the fruit. We depend on others to tend and prune it until then, and we do not know if the fruit will always be sweet. And so for you, Hunter: you cannot know where the trail will lead. Perhaps it is one for others to follow, now.”
Listening to what hler said, Chele remembered how comforting Rnesa’s promise had once been, that pne was giving breath to children not yet born. But now the thought filled pner with as much anxiety as joy, wondering how they would use it, and Mnolika could see the worry in pner face.

"Whatever you fear, Chele, know that you have already saved the world for some. I think of the light in the eyes of a child who tells me they can recite Mehuzda's tales to me, because of your tracks."

Chele smiled, if a little bittersweet. "Your words do make me glad. But I am not sure it is quite the same thing."

"Perhaps not." Mnolika shrugged. "We agree your tracks can change the world, have changed it. Perhaps there is danger there. But there is always danger in the world, and sometimes, it is a story that saves us. Who knows? I am no Dream Walker, but I know the one great mystery all of us move in is that which has not yet happened."

~

When Mnolika returned to hler sibling's village, hle went with Chele's embrace, no less sincere than Seemu's. And when, a few years later, Chele heard that Mnolika had returned to the world of spirits, pne remembered again their final conversation, and how little pne could once have believed that such a conversation could ever have been possible. 

That which had not yet happened was indeed the greatest mystery, Chele thought. And pne realized: there was no track to represent it. No track could, perhaps. 

Perhaps the only way to track a mystery, after all, was to follow all the tracks it left. Chele thought about how difficult it would be to recreate that conversation with Mnolika in tracks -- let alone their shared history that had led up to it -- so that others could think about this mystery, too. And about what new tracks would be needed to do so. Deep in thought, pne reached for some weso and charcoal, and began a new project.