twovultures
Donor
A Hole in the Butterfly Net
The Feast
They were killing him with hospitality, thought Mea’ole. When the other members of his expedition had found the strange pair living in this new land, they had been wary and apprehensive. The two old men had walked to the beach as they were sailing up, waving wildly and speaking a language that sounded more like the chattering of birds than any human speech.
Lauati had suggested killing them right then and there-they didn’t know what these men wanted. But everyone on the boat was exhausted and weak from the journey from Samoa, and these strangers were old but wiry and tough, and could very well have won if a fight broke out. They gestured for the crew to follow them, but no-one wanted to. Only Mea’ole had been brave enough to do so.
At first, he was nervous as he followed them through a footpath in the forest to a small hut, wondering how many more people were in this new land. But then one man started a fire by himself, and the other walked into the garden near the hut without calling for any neighbors or family to aid him, and Mea’ole realized that they were alone.
“Perhaps these men are castaways” he thought to himself as they busied with gathering and preparing their food. He had heard stories of relatives who had disappeared at sea, swept away by storms and angry spirits to never be heard or seen from again. If so, though, why had they forgotten their language? Had they gone crazy, after all this time?
But as time went on, he saw that their faculties were working quite well. They quickly made a fire, and started grinding some hard seeds in a small mortar. It took a long time to make the meal. As the hours passed Mea’ole wondered fearfully if these men were actually casting some kind of strange spell using these unfamiliar ingredients instead of cooking. However, almost as soon as these thoughts entered his head the men were feeding him.
The seeds that they had ground they mixed with water and cooked on a stone, making a flat, odd sort of food with a consistency and taste similar to breadfruit. They sprinkled small berries and a white powder on the food, folding over the flat part and offering it to him. Mea’ole found it absolutely delicious, though after several weeks at sea anything could taste delicious. But it was warm food, and that’s what mattered. What surprised him, however, was that the men kept making more. And more. And more.
“Aren’t you worried about running out of food for yourselves?” he asked them, but all his question got was more broad smiles and food shoved in his face. In addition to the berries and ground seeds was a small red fruit that burnt his mouth when he bit it. He yelped in pain as the fruit sent a sensation of fire on his tongue, prompting much mirth from his hosts who quickly gave him some fleshy, orange fruit to counteract the taste.
Now he was full to bursting, but they hadn’t stopped. He realized with horror that they were now making some kind of soup in the gourd from which they had scooped out the soothing orange flesh. If his stomach didn’t explode after this, he would have to get the others so these men could target them for their feast and leave him alone.
“They have not had guests for a very, very long time” Mea’ole realized suddenly. How many years of isolation had these two gone through, that they were treating him like a long lost child?
30 Years Earlier
“Land” croaked Maza Uk. The others didn’t seem to hear him. Maza Uk swallowed, wetting his parched throat and tried again, as loud as his weakened body could allow. “Land” he said. The others heard, and looked up. Palapcha Ampu, Pii Pa, and Saq T’zi’maasaat, a landlubber [1] who had sailed with them, all followed his gaze. Sure enough, in the distance, was something that was recognizably an island.
“Thank the gods” Saq T’zi’maasaat managed to say in a hoarse whisper, while the others stood up and pulled the tattered remains of their sails into position to bring them to the island. It had been a long time since they had seen land of any sort. Palapcha claimed it was almost 3 months since they’d gotten caught in the storm and swept away. Saq T’zi’maasaat sometimes thought it was longer than that, like he had been floating on the sea with the other three for an eternity or more.
After their supplies had run out they had survived by catching sharks that swam up to their boat, and over the last week had even managed to grab a seagull that had landed on the boat, probably intending to eat them. The irony would be amusing, if Saq didn’t feel that he was so close to death. When they crashed onto the island, he had to crawl off the boat, rolling into the surf and pulling himself onto the beach with his hands and knees. The others had more energy, pulling him to the shelter of the island’s vegetation. Their spirits inflated by their salvation, they gently ribbed him as a landlubber.
“Don’t worry” said Pii Pa. “Now that you’ve gotten your sea legs, we can send you out on the boat by yourself.”
Saq T’zi’maasaat did not find that very funny. But he was embarrassed that he had not been able to weather the voyage as well as these seasoned sailors and so kept his mouth shut. He wished that he had some way to repay them for saving his life, and vowed at that moment that he would indeed help them as they had helped him.
As he regained his strength, he took initiative-building shelters for all the other men, tending the camp fires and helping in hunting the birds of this new island. The latter was easy-most of the birds seemed to be slow and stupid. They simply sat there and let themselves get clubbed. Fish were easy to catch too-Saq simply walked the beach at low tide, picking small fish and crabs out of the tidal pools to feed his companions.
The one thing that Saq T’zi’maasaat would never do was to get back on a boat. As it was, his companions were hopelessly lost. They had a vague idea of which direction the world lay, but they did not know how or if they could sail back to it. They did, however, explore the island on which they found themselves, circling the beaches in small coracles they built for themselves. There were no iguanas or tortoises on this island, just birds, insects, and unfamiliar plants which even Saq, an experienced farmer, couldn’t make heads or tails of. This land had saved them, but it was in many ways fearful and alien.
That all changed one night, when Palapcha Ampu and Maza Uk rowed back to the beach, shouting from the water that they had discovered something. They landed on the sand and ran up to the shelters, all the while excitedly jabbering. Saq T’zi’maasaat and Pii Pa wondered what exactly it was they had discovered that would be so life changing.
As the 4 met, Maza Uk grabbed several hide bags from the boat-odd, since they had boiled and eaten all the hide on the voyage to the island. Saq T’zi’maasaat’s heart began to beat rapidly. If they had destroyed their own hide bags that mean that these bags were from another boat.
When Maza Uk opened them, every man present yelled out for joy. The bags held maize, beans already sprouting shoots, and other seeds. Maza Uk explained through tears of joy that they had found another boat, empty of people but full of cargo, probably blown away by the same storm.
“Tonight” Maza declared, “we will all eat like kings!”
It fell to Saq to prepare the food. And he prepared it extremely well, making a stew from the corn and beans that could indeed have fed an Ajaw, perhaps even the Great Emperor-but he did not use all the seeds, hiding them from the others.
It was a compulsion that he couldn’t quite control. After 3 months of near starvation on that boat, he had the urge to hide away food when it was presented to him. The others did it too. He had found leftovers of the meals he had cooked them half buried in sand or in the branches of trees. He had always ignored these, knowing that he did the same. He knew that they felt anxious and scared when they hid their food, just like he did.
But this time, he was happy and smiling. The memories that came to him as he hid away the seeds was not the time on the boat, feeling the hunger dig into him, but growing up in his home village and working on the farm there. He remembered his father showing him different seeds, telling him how to tell them apart and what each plant produced. He was giggling, thinking ahead to what these seeds could mean.
“We will never go hungry again” Saq T’zi’maasaat whispered to himself.
[1] Not literally, but the closest equivalent in these sailor’s language
Posts on *Mesoamerica coming up, I just thought that this thread was overdue for a story.
The Feast
They were killing him with hospitality, thought Mea’ole. When the other members of his expedition had found the strange pair living in this new land, they had been wary and apprehensive. The two old men had walked to the beach as they were sailing up, waving wildly and speaking a language that sounded more like the chattering of birds than any human speech.
Lauati had suggested killing them right then and there-they didn’t know what these men wanted. But everyone on the boat was exhausted and weak from the journey from Samoa, and these strangers were old but wiry and tough, and could very well have won if a fight broke out. They gestured for the crew to follow them, but no-one wanted to. Only Mea’ole had been brave enough to do so.
At first, he was nervous as he followed them through a footpath in the forest to a small hut, wondering how many more people were in this new land. But then one man started a fire by himself, and the other walked into the garden near the hut without calling for any neighbors or family to aid him, and Mea’ole realized that they were alone.
“Perhaps these men are castaways” he thought to himself as they busied with gathering and preparing their food. He had heard stories of relatives who had disappeared at sea, swept away by storms and angry spirits to never be heard or seen from again. If so, though, why had they forgotten their language? Had they gone crazy, after all this time?
But as time went on, he saw that their faculties were working quite well. They quickly made a fire, and started grinding some hard seeds in a small mortar. It took a long time to make the meal. As the hours passed Mea’ole wondered fearfully if these men were actually casting some kind of strange spell using these unfamiliar ingredients instead of cooking. However, almost as soon as these thoughts entered his head the men were feeding him.
The seeds that they had ground they mixed with water and cooked on a stone, making a flat, odd sort of food with a consistency and taste similar to breadfruit. They sprinkled small berries and a white powder on the food, folding over the flat part and offering it to him. Mea’ole found it absolutely delicious, though after several weeks at sea anything could taste delicious. But it was warm food, and that’s what mattered. What surprised him, however, was that the men kept making more. And more. And more.
“Aren’t you worried about running out of food for yourselves?” he asked them, but all his question got was more broad smiles and food shoved in his face. In addition to the berries and ground seeds was a small red fruit that burnt his mouth when he bit it. He yelped in pain as the fruit sent a sensation of fire on his tongue, prompting much mirth from his hosts who quickly gave him some fleshy, orange fruit to counteract the taste.
Now he was full to bursting, but they hadn’t stopped. He realized with horror that they were now making some kind of soup in the gourd from which they had scooped out the soothing orange flesh. If his stomach didn’t explode after this, he would have to get the others so these men could target them for their feast and leave him alone.
“They have not had guests for a very, very long time” Mea’ole realized suddenly. How many years of isolation had these two gone through, that they were treating him like a long lost child?
30 Years Earlier
“Land” croaked Maza Uk. The others didn’t seem to hear him. Maza Uk swallowed, wetting his parched throat and tried again, as loud as his weakened body could allow. “Land” he said. The others heard, and looked up. Palapcha Ampu, Pii Pa, and Saq T’zi’maasaat, a landlubber [1] who had sailed with them, all followed his gaze. Sure enough, in the distance, was something that was recognizably an island.
“Thank the gods” Saq T’zi’maasaat managed to say in a hoarse whisper, while the others stood up and pulled the tattered remains of their sails into position to bring them to the island. It had been a long time since they had seen land of any sort. Palapcha claimed it was almost 3 months since they’d gotten caught in the storm and swept away. Saq T’zi’maasaat sometimes thought it was longer than that, like he had been floating on the sea with the other three for an eternity or more.
After their supplies had run out they had survived by catching sharks that swam up to their boat, and over the last week had even managed to grab a seagull that had landed on the boat, probably intending to eat them. The irony would be amusing, if Saq didn’t feel that he was so close to death. When they crashed onto the island, he had to crawl off the boat, rolling into the surf and pulling himself onto the beach with his hands and knees. The others had more energy, pulling him to the shelter of the island’s vegetation. Their spirits inflated by their salvation, they gently ribbed him as a landlubber.
“Don’t worry” said Pii Pa. “Now that you’ve gotten your sea legs, we can send you out on the boat by yourself.”
Saq T’zi’maasaat did not find that very funny. But he was embarrassed that he had not been able to weather the voyage as well as these seasoned sailors and so kept his mouth shut. He wished that he had some way to repay them for saving his life, and vowed at that moment that he would indeed help them as they had helped him.
As he regained his strength, he took initiative-building shelters for all the other men, tending the camp fires and helping in hunting the birds of this new island. The latter was easy-most of the birds seemed to be slow and stupid. They simply sat there and let themselves get clubbed. Fish were easy to catch too-Saq simply walked the beach at low tide, picking small fish and crabs out of the tidal pools to feed his companions.
The one thing that Saq T’zi’maasaat would never do was to get back on a boat. As it was, his companions were hopelessly lost. They had a vague idea of which direction the world lay, but they did not know how or if they could sail back to it. They did, however, explore the island on which they found themselves, circling the beaches in small coracles they built for themselves. There were no iguanas or tortoises on this island, just birds, insects, and unfamiliar plants which even Saq, an experienced farmer, couldn’t make heads or tails of. This land had saved them, but it was in many ways fearful and alien.
That all changed one night, when Palapcha Ampu and Maza Uk rowed back to the beach, shouting from the water that they had discovered something. They landed on the sand and ran up to the shelters, all the while excitedly jabbering. Saq T’zi’maasaat and Pii Pa wondered what exactly it was they had discovered that would be so life changing.
As the 4 met, Maza Uk grabbed several hide bags from the boat-odd, since they had boiled and eaten all the hide on the voyage to the island. Saq T’zi’maasaat’s heart began to beat rapidly. If they had destroyed their own hide bags that mean that these bags were from another boat.
When Maza Uk opened them, every man present yelled out for joy. The bags held maize, beans already sprouting shoots, and other seeds. Maza Uk explained through tears of joy that they had found another boat, empty of people but full of cargo, probably blown away by the same storm.
“Tonight” Maza declared, “we will all eat like kings!”
It fell to Saq to prepare the food. And he prepared it extremely well, making a stew from the corn and beans that could indeed have fed an Ajaw, perhaps even the Great Emperor-but he did not use all the seeds, hiding them from the others.
It was a compulsion that he couldn’t quite control. After 3 months of near starvation on that boat, he had the urge to hide away food when it was presented to him. The others did it too. He had found leftovers of the meals he had cooked them half buried in sand or in the branches of trees. He had always ignored these, knowing that he did the same. He knew that they felt anxious and scared when they hid their food, just like he did.
But this time, he was happy and smiling. The memories that came to him as he hid away the seeds was not the time on the boat, feeling the hunger dig into him, but growing up in his home village and working on the farm there. He remembered his father showing him different seeds, telling him how to tell them apart and what each plant produced. He was giggling, thinking ahead to what these seeds could mean.
“We will never go hungry again” Saq T’zi’maasaat whispered to himself.
[1] Not literally, but the closest equivalent in these sailor’s language
Posts on *Mesoamerica coming up, I just thought that this thread was overdue for a story.
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