[Flashback]Winter's Barren Soil

[Loren]

Timestamp: 45th day of Winter 510 Loren's eyes were blue. A slim smile set his lips; life was great. He thanked Morwen daily for bringing his beloved Fiarra to him. Although the match was established by their parents, Loren felt a connection to his friend on many levels; this was a match made on another plane. He'd known her for most of his life. They met when she was five and he was six. She was always the exuberant vivacious one while he contemplated the intricacies of life. He brushed the hair from her eyes and looked deep into her deep blue eyes. She smiled revealing one of the most beautiful visions Loren had ever seen. Each time he saw this smile, his heart melted and his eyes turned that purplish color that made Fiarra happy. "Tomorrow I'll head into the high country. the stags will be moving soon." "Tonight, you'll be moving into my high country," Fiarra smiled seductively as she traced a finger across her breast. "This buck should move right over here." She was motioning him closer and Loren complied. His eyes closed as his lips caressed Fiarra's. The young married couple lay on the floor of their cottage in front of a roaring fire. The timbers crackled and popped as bright embers rapidly rose into the flue and up the chimney. The warm glow of the fire blanketed the couple as they lay in each other's arms. They were truly in love. "What are we going to do about our parents?" Loren asked his wife. He didn't even notice that this topic would ruin the mood they were in. Obviously the though was troubling him deeply. Both sets of parents were squabbling over why the couple could not produce a grandchild. "Do we really need to discuss this now?" Fiarra attempted to distract Loren. "Besides, once Morwen returns from her trip, we will talk to her and see if she can help us with our problem." "What if she can do nothing to help us?" Loren was concerned about their inability to conceive a child. They wed over two years ago; days after her 16th Birthday. He was only 17 then. Although they frequently consummated their marriage, they have had no success . Not even a miscarriage occurred. "You worry too much," Fiarra spoke softly raising up onto her knees, arching her back and lowering her head. "Let's just try one more time,...lover." Her smile melted all of his worries and he entered bliss with her guidance.

[Loren]

Timestamp: 46th day of Winter 510 The next day, Loren found himself sitting on hillock in amongst several pine trees. His mother had provided him a large piece of white cotton cloth to conceal his location. Loren used pine pitch, dirt and other dark colored dyes to mar the white cloth in order to subdue it somewhat. Rarely do you see a pristine white scene without something dark. On top of his clothing he drizzled doe urine in different places. The urine provider had been in heat. Loren heard rustling nearby and slowly moved his head to the right. He firmly grasped the compound bow with his left hand. He wore a pair of half leather gloves. This allowed his finger tips exposed and able to tie knots, play the recorder and perform all those tasks that full gloves seem to interfere with. As he gazed down the shaft of the 36 inch white cedar arrow, he lined up on a large buck. It must have been well over 200 pounds. Loren counted eight points on the rack on its head. This was a majestic creature and would make a fine meal for his family for days to come. Loren pulled back on the bowstring and held his breath. The buck was sitting at about seventy yards away. Loren felt he had the stag sited in and let loose. The arrow flew straight and true. It struck the deer across his back leaving a small laceration as it passed on landing somewhere beyond where the buck was standing. In no time at all the stag had leapt out of the area with its white tail flying behind it. Loren let out a sigh and plodded over to retrieve his arrow. 'That buck would have made a grand meal,' Loren thought to himself. 'I haven't seen one that large in years.' After recovering his arrow, Loren moved through the mountains for a few hours and took up another spot. He'd seen tracks leading into an area where deer had been eating tufts of undergrowth. They pushed some of the snow away and nibbled at what was lying underneath. A few had nibbled on the growth of some trees. He waited a few more hours and watched the sun pass lower in the western sky. It may have been a good time to start heading home. Just as he was about to do that very thing, he spied a beefy doe grazing. She appeared to be with child. It is never a good idea to take a doe, especially if she is bearing a fawn. Loren sighed and the doe's ears perked up. She stopped and stared at Loren. Loren remained frozen. They stared at each other for at least 15 minutes. It was as though the deer could not see him or wasn't sure what she was looking at. As he waited, he caught sight of a six point buck moving closer to the doe. The doe had put her tail down and the buck was unaware a human hunter was in the area. The arrow was already notched. Slowly he raised the bow into the air and the notched arrow in his right hand to the fleshy part of his cheek. He gazed down the shaft and aimed a little lower than he had earlier this morning. Loren released the notch. The buck stopped to chew on some greens hanging from a tree. His outstretched neck shown white for all to see. He was oblivious to his impending doom. The doe sense something was wrong and put her tail up just as the white cedar shaft impacted with the side of the young buck. The buck snorted and pawed the ground. The doe bolted away from the noise. The buck attempted to follow. He charged into the brush behind her. The arrow shaft snapped leaving half of it stuck inside and blood pouring from the wound. Loren pulled the bow over his head and arm passed the string. He ran toward where he knew he had hit the deer. The exhilaration of the kill surged hot through his blood. He chased the deer for at least five hundred yards and found it moaning and snorting laying on the ground. The animal was not ready to give up his life yet. But the natural born Vanthan hunter was prepared to take it. He'd taken many with his father as a boy. The buck bleated at him, snorted and dropped his head on the snow. He was too weak to put up a fight. His heart was slowing, but he was still very much alive. The steam pulsated slower and slower from his nostrils. Loren dropped to his knees and cradled the magnificent animal's head on his lap. He grabbed the bottom of his chin and pulled it skyward. With his hunting knife, he stabbed into the buck's neck. He pulled and cut along the side of the neck tearing flesh and ripping sinews. It was a slow and hard cut until he felt the warm liquid squirting into his hand. He pulled the knife away and watched the arterial spurt. The first clear stream shot out about four feet. Within a few minutes it slowed to a trickle from the open wound; the heart stopped. Loren set about with the task of stripping the buck in the woods. He figured it weighed about 140 Lbs and with its vital organs removed, the weight had been reduced to about ninety or a hundred pounds. Loren pulled the stripped deer up over his shoulders, grasped the legs with both hands and began the journey back home. He was excited about the hunt and about the kill. The fact that he missed the earlier much larger buck didn't detract from the day because as he considered it, in the end, he was carrying a much lighter source of food home. He thought about the night before with Fiarra in front of the hearth. He thought about some of the things her parents said to him out of anger and fear. He thought about the things that his own parents screamed. 'Why was having a baby so important to them?' Loren thought to himself. 'Obviously there is the procreation of the species and having someone around to look after you when you get old. But we are young. There will be more time.' The more Loren thought about it, the more he feared not being able to have a child. Yes, he tried to convince himself that it was not a major issue, but obviously to the parents it was. Deep down inside, he knew it was a major issue to him as well. He wished to have a son, so that he could pass on his knowledge of the forest, the bow, deer and the hunt. The hunt always excited Loren. Walking home with a catch on your back only made the day better because then you could show off the fruits of your labor. But for Loren, the hunt was more satisfying than the actual kill. He arrived back at the cottage to find Fiarra standing outside waiting for him. He could see by the tracks on the ground that she had been pacing back and forth for quite some time. As he neared the cottage, she ran to him sobbing. He looked down at her; she was four inches shorter than he. "What is wrong?" he asked. Fiarra didn't know how to tell him. She didn't know what to say. She was filled with dread and remorse for what she knew and kept secret from him. "Loren...."sob, sob, sob, "Loren,....there is something I must tell you." "Can it wait? I'd like to hang this deer up in the shed." "Yes, go take care of that first," she sobbed looking at the animal draped across his back. She returned to the interior of the cottage and continued to pace; her expression alternated between sadness and sobbing. He eyes reddened from rubbing and crying. They were watery and the eyes themselves were yellowish orange. In a few minutes, Loren entered the home and looked at Fiarra. He removed his white coverall and cloak. He took off his boots and sat down. "What is so important to tell me? Why are you so sad?" "My darling Loren," Fiarra got down on her knees and crawled between Loren's legs. She rested her elbows on his thighs. "There is a secret I have been holding onto for a few years and I have not told you."

[Loren]

Timestamp: 46th day of Winter 510 "What is it?" "I am barren!" She sobbed and buried her face in his thigh. "Barren? What does that mean?" Loren honestly had never heard such a thing. "I cannot bear children!" "What do you mean?" Loren was still confused. "I know we have had problems. We have both agreed that we would go seek out Morwen when she returns to Avanthal." "It isn't that simple." Fiarra sobbed more. "All young women bleed when they reach a certain age. It is a natural cycle for having babies. By the time I was fifteen, I had not yet started. I asked my mother if that was natural. She told me that she had heard where some young girls took as long as age 16 to start. I am 18 years old and it has not happened yet! Don't you understand! I cannot have children. The Gods have cursed me to never bear another life. I cannot fulfill my obligation to you, to our families and to our people!" "Oh there must be something we can do." Loren felt saddened, but didn't believe it was true. "There is nothing. I am broken," Fiarra sobbed uncontrollably. Loren began to feel anger. All of a sudden he blamed Fiarra for not telling him sooner. "Why couldn't you have told me this earlier!?" Loren yelled at his wife. He stood up and pushed her away from him. He turned his back as if to walk out the door and leave. His eyes turned yellow, then orange and back to red. "What about all those things your parents have been screaming at me and my parents!?" Loren was going nuts. He screamed at her. "They are lies! all lies! There is nothing wrong with me or my family! How could you do this to us?" Loren walked outside and slammed the door behind him. Loren did not feel sad for Fiarra and the grief she must be feeling. All he could think about was the fight that had been raging between their families for the past two years. All he could think of was himself. It was selfish of him, but he could not see that yet. Loren sat down upon a large stone outside of the cottage to think. He began crying. He finally accepted the reality that he would never have a son...or a daughter. Then his anger flared up again and he blamed Fiarra for this realization. She walked outside. He looked at her and she looked back with her reddened face. She began walking out into the woods. "Where are you going?!" Loren yelled after her. "Leave me alone!" She yelled back. Loren walked back into the cottage and resolved to leave her be. 'She'll probably head to her mother's place for the night. We can talk about it in the morning.' Loren thought to himself.

[Loren]

Timestamp: 47th day of Winter 510 The next morning, Loren woke with the sun. His first thought was to look toward Fiarra, but she wasn't there. Then he remembered the fight and the feelings. They all came rushing back to him. He lay there weeping silently on the bed. Ten minutes later he was smiling and hopeful. 'I'll walk over to her mom's and settle this once and for all. I don't need children. I just love her and don't want to live without her.' Loren thought rationally after a good night's sleep. He pulled on his shirt and leather trousers. He pulled his boots on and stood up. Reached for his cloak and headed out the door. As he turned to begin walking toward her mother's place, he recognized his father and another smaller man walking toward him. Both men had solemn emotionless expressions on their faces. "Loren," Nomantar called to his son. "This is Edgarth. You may not remember him. He used to fish with me when you were younger. I used to take you on some of the fishing expeditions with us." Loren slowly recognized the man who was sporting a gray flecked beard. He must have stood about five feet tall. "Yes sir! Edgarth, sir! I remember now." Loren held out his hand to shake. Both men remained expressionless and Edgarth never shook the younger man's hand. "Son, I have some tragic news to impart upon you," Edgarth spoke. "Could we go inside?" "Sure...yes sir!" Loren ushered Edgarth and Nomantar into his cottage. They sat at the table and Edgarth began to recant his tale. "This morning, as I do every morning, I pulled my fishing nets out and packed them into a pack. I hefted it over my back and trudged out to the North Sea. As you recall, there are some very high cliffs that run along the beach there. Many years ago, our people carved stairs into the side of the rock wall to make easier footing." "Yes, I know the rock stairs," Loren blurted out. "When I dropped my pack near the shoreline, I noticed a bundle of something up the beach near the rocks. I was curious and walked over to it. Upon inspection I realized it was a Vanthan woman. At first, I couldn't tell who it was because she was so badly disfigured from the impact. Upon closer examination, I realized it was Fiarra." The word hit him like the arrow hit the buck in the woods, Loren killed the day before. "That can't be possible," Loren said. "She went to her mum's last night." "I'm afraid it is true, Loren." Like the buck, Loren got up and ran out the door. He thrashed into some brush trying to chase after his wife. He ran to her parent's house. Along the way, he thought to himself, that Edgarth must be mistaken. It couldn't be her. I will clear this up when I get to her parent's home. I'm sure she spent the night there. Edgarth and Nomantar followed Loren. Fiarra's mom was crying with her head buried into her husband's chest. Nomantar and Edgarth looked at one another. They had already told the young woman's parents. Loren pretended to ignore what he saw. He put the thought out of his mind. He was in pain. His eyes were yellow and orange. "Marta!" he yelled to his mother in law. "Where is Fiarra? Did she not sleep with you last night?" The woman faced Loren and yelled expletives at him. "You killed my daughter! Get out of here! I never want to see your face ever again!" Loren was stunned. He was stopped in his tracks. He could not move. He did not know what to do. His heart had been ripped from his chest. He was emotionally dead. He looked at the woman yelling in front of him. He slowly turned back toward his father and Edgarth. "Loren, we'd like you to come and identify the body," Nomantar said softly. "Yea," Loren uttered while staring off into the distance. His pace was slow; barely picking his feet up. He shuffled back to his home in disbelief. When he arrived at the cottage he started to make the bed. Then he turned to clean the cottage. Nomantar caught up to him, Loren looked at him and said, "Dad!?, What are you doing here?" Loren was blocking out the whole thing. He couldn't deal with it. "Oh wait! Come out to the shed. Wait till you see the six pointer I got yesterday. It is huge. I know Fiarra will love it." The mention of her name caused him to crumple up on the floor and weep bitterly. Now it was his fault.

[Loren]

Timestamp: 50th day of Winter 510 Loren dropped a rose on the shroud. It was nestled amongst timbers and kindling. All of which were placed in a small boat with a single sail for its one way trip out to sea. "I will always love you, Fiarra," he uttered to the corpse of his wife laying in her funeral boat. Loren stepped away from the boat. A clergyman stated a few words about death and rebirth; most of which never entered Loren's conscious mind. They were words uttered in the wind; fluttered away as quickly as they were released. Loren stood between his parents and watched the boat. Two men pushed on the stern aspect of the ship and a third man carrying a torch tossed it inside. An accelerant was added to the timbers. The flames quickly spread as the small boat bobbed in the surf heading out toward the sea. Within ten minutes, the entire vessel was consumed in fire. After a half hour, the last flame was snuffed as the wrecked remains dipped beneath the waves lost from sight forever. Loren walked all the way back to his cottage alone. His mother and father offered him space at their home, but he refused. He wanted to be alone. Loren did not know what to do. He felt as though he had no direction. Seeking direction was not a priority. The first month he was a desolate wreck. He lost weight; hardly ever eating. He only occasionally, went on the hunt and came home empty handed every time. His mother brought meals to him. After the first month, he told himself that he needed to quit blaming himself and go about his work. He returned to hunting and fishing. He asked his father if he could hunt and fish with him and naturally, Nomantar accepted. The next five months he settled into a routine. He woke early and met his father to hunt or fish; whatever they were doing that day. He participated in the activity of hunting and fishing. If they caught something, they brought it home. For the majority of this time period, Loren remained quiet; his eyes always orange. Then finally one day, on the 47th of Summer, 510; Loren smiled. THE END