Blue Streamers - part 1
An Alien Experience - Part 1 of 4
Breaker paused at the drop-off point. He stood inches away from the edge overlooking the five-kilometer drop to the valley below, poised for a moment as if he were about to leap over the edge; then, he spun to look at the brotherhood hall.
It was a long, low building with massive timbers supporting the flat flag-stones that made up the roof. The timbered walls were broken at intervals by massive rock columns, giving the entire structure the appearance of something that had survived for centuries but was gradually being crushed into the ground by its constant weight of snow. There was a large flagstone patio that fronted the building. This was the site of all social activity and the place where the clan linked arms in the face of the worst gales to perform the traditional midwinter storm-defiance roars.
The poles at the doors were covered with streamers of ribbon, snapping and popping in the stiff wind that roared down the slope. The fabric was woven of fine thread, so tough that the cloth was almost wear-proof. Nevertheless, the older streamers were frayed and tattered by the wind, as well as bleached nearly white. The newer ones were a deep, rich, and shiny blue.
The color stood for valor and was the exact shade of newly-spilled blood.
Valor, tradition, self-reliance, brotherhood, and family were on Breaker's mind. He was young and had his name to make and honor to protect, so these thoughts were entirely appropriate for him as he faced the gusting wind.
Breaker gloried in the fact that the wind was nearly gale-force. He pushed his massive head forward, defying it to shove him off the cliff. The wind responded by whipping his long hair and beard into his eyes.
A season ago, he would not have been able to stand in such a strong gust, let alone at the edge of a precipice. The past winter had been a long one, and he had used the time well, eating and growing strong. This year was his first as an adult, and he was just coming into the first flush of his power and mass.
Now others of the tightly knit community came forth, laughing and calling to each other in deep voices that blended in the wind into a roaring sound. They were a formidable clan in their massed strength.
A flock of ice birds came whirling by on the gusting wind. Breaker took two quick steps and leaped high to catch one in his mouth. The wind gusted and blew him backward dangerously close to the edge. His brothers roared in approval. He crunched the delicate, cold body, relishing the taste.
This was life! The struggle to survive. The strength that conquered the elements! The strength that conquered the competition! He knew deep in his hearts that he was ready.
The echo of the massed onlooker's roar bounced down the valley, rebounding from peak to peak and fading into untold distances. After a time, an answering set of bellows came from the other fraternal groups that had gathered to greet the day, each in front of their clan halls, scattered among the peaks.
Breaker could almost make out individual voices in the chorus. Long study ensured that he recognized his competitors.
His clan moved closer, and they came together in a tight bunch, jostling for position as each tried to increase his status by moving closer to the leading males. Breaker alone stood slightly apart. This was not because it was expected of a young male before his coming of age, but because he fully understood the status game and knew he was not yet ready to compete with the older and heavier members. Some of them were over twice his mass and could easily shove him back.
Instead, his intelligence prompted him to stand aloof, as if he had no need to compete for status. He had concluded that this worked to his benefit in that the others recognized it as a form of superiority.
In fact, several of them glanced curiously at him as they attempted to work their way into the center of the scrum. Breaker's gain in status was confirmed when two of the younger males made their way over and stood near him, electing to bathe in his glory, small though it was.
After a short time, Stoneskull, their leader, and most massive male shouted that it was time to gather fuel and the milling group gradually became organized into several queues which made their way upward past the brotherhood hall and spread out along the edge of the dark, encroaching forest that overshadowed their ledge.
The forest was composed of flither trees nearly as old as the stones. It held numerous dangers and was nearly impassible. The only way through was to work along the edge of one of the many avalanche paths that cut through the foreboding mass of trees.
Strong though the trees were, the massed snow, shooting down at high velocity from the mountainside above, snapped the trunks from the rocks and tossed them around like broken matchsticks. This was a good thing, as far as Breaker was concerned. Not only did it provide an easy source of firewood, but it also allowed easy egress from the brotherhood's steading. Worming through the tightly packed flither trees left one unable to guard against even the lesser predators that roamed the woods.
The groups gathered broken wood, vying to see who could bring the largest piece back to the pile on the front patio. The task was finished by late morning. Stoneskull allowed them to relax until mid-day feeding time.
Clatter came up to Breaker ostensibly to engage in conversation. This was something that Breaker usually tried to avoid since Clatter was a lightweight, not to be taken seriously. Still, his words were cunning and often held two or three meanings, so Breaker did not actively shun him.
“Breaker, your tree piece was one of the largest today,” the thinner male said. “You've put on a lot of strength over the winter. It is apparent to all of us that this is your time. Have you given any thought to Choosing?” Then without giving Breaker time to consider, he added, “You'd better have because others are already making plans.”
Breaker traced Clatter's glance and saw Heaver standing in the middle of an admiring group of younger males.
He snorted and shook his head, making his hair and beard fly, then said, “I've been busy working. What boots it to make such plans? 'Tis well known that the shes have their own way at the choosing ritual. Besides, who among us has made the descent this spring? No one knows which girl will present herself until we go down and see. Even the older, married males have yet to descend to greet their mid-winter born children.”
Clatter shrugged and went over to Heaver's group, doubtless to instill some germ of conflict there.
To be continued…in 4 parts.