PART ONE: THE BUSHLAND

Chapter Two- The Feast

The proud quartet made good time on their journey home. Orion lost no speed with the beast upon his shoulders. In fact, he led the way back to the dwelling. The tribe had grown worried of their overnight excursion. They were only supposed to be gone until dark, but the men just couldn’t come back empty handed. In the end, it was worth it.

The women had slow-cooked a stew all night, over splintered coals, while the children bone-mashed the golden heads of sweet grass to prepare a hearty flour. The two men who remained at the camp mixed the flour with rainwater collected on the broad leaves and the various colorful tree fruits. They baked it over a small fire in their river clay oven. Some of the food was eaten last night, but the stew awaited its meat. The tribe had quenched its hunger with half a share of the fruit bread and some toasted giant beetles and blood worms, mixed with spice-herb.

Bibiji was the first to spot the hunters returning. She was lounging in a tree by the edge of the forest, where the bushland turned into an endless sea of scrub. Her leg dangled from the branch she was resting in. She was nibbling on the tree’s tart purple berries. She watched as Orion lumbered ahead of his crew, with a Swifthorn buck across his back. She smiled. She hopped down and disappeared into the wood to spread the good news.

By time the hunters cleaned up for the feast, the campfire was blazing high and the stew was being served. The meat cooked fast in the boiling vat. Everyone gathered around the drummers and dancers for the celebration feast. The sounds echoed through all the savanna and the elders began to sing the Song of the Ancestors. Then, the children played the Swifthorn Song on little reed flutes, while the women performed The Dance of Thanksgiving to the God of Bounty.

When things finally calmed down, everyone sat and ate bread and bugs while Orion told ghost stories and tales of adventure. He was the most gifted storyteller in the tribe. In fact, there wasn’t much that Orion was second best at. He put his face above the fire.

“Many a’ days have passed upon this earth since the dawn of man’s exploration of the spirit world.” Orion began, “The souls of all creatures express themselves infinitely through time. Not one creature has remained untouched by an encounter with the dead, whether they were aware of it, or not.”

“On one occasion, a spirit had come into my life. It had crossed my path, right here, in at the edge of the forest.” He pointed out into the darkened haze. “I stood frozen, as right in front of the largest of the Bakro Trees, passed before me the ghost of a Moon Cat!” He shouted, and the crowd gasped. The women jumped back and the children screamed.

Orion spoke softly now, but in a formidable tone, “The spirit was an awful white. It was ghastly and lifeless in its empty... pale… deathly… white as dead ash… eye sockets!!!” Everyone erupted in applause and squeals of glee. The song and dance immediately reconvened. The celebration raged through the night. The food, water and potions were all consumed. The wood burned to the very embers, and died in cold, grey, carbon flakes.

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