The Pakas

Story #1:
The Old Law is Broken

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      It was winter and the sky above was a twilight gray that 
bridged 'light' and 'dark'. The wolf-furre Matu Paka led his 
family through the snow. They all had dark-colored hair, and they 
all wore birdskins with the feathers left on. There was his 
ethereally beautiful sister Sheesah Paka, Grandmother and 
Grandfather, and three children. They belonged to the Aka Kota 
tribe, the undecorated or "plain" people. They were marching to 
the five-year meet-up with other bands at Middle Lake. 

      Dimu, the oldest son, asked, "Grandfather? My wife- is she 
pretty? Father won't say anything." 

      Grandfather said, "You will see your bride's face just as he 
and I did: after the wedding." 

      Dimu persisted, "The bride-price was four fine blankets and 
four feather pelts. ...Is that low, or high, or in the middle, 
Grandfather?" He knew his mother's had been five, and 
Grandmother's had been five, too. 

      Considering a moment, Grandfather said, "Dimu, the beauty of 
a face fades. Hope for a kind tongue, a gentle heart, and 
industrious hands." He looked over fondly at Grandmother. "And 
remember, night makes all women beautiful." 

      Dimu pondered this, then his heart gave a lurch. He thought, 
but did not say aloud, "O sweet Primes- she's hideous!!" 



      The youngest child, Koki, was only three summers old. She 
used a light tether of braided sinew to lead a stout-legged shaggy 
bird they called a "beb-kra". It dragged a load on two thin poles, 
one on each side of its stubby wings. There were four other birds 
with the family, each with a pack, each following a different 
family member. 

      The tether suddenly went taut and Koki stumbled. She fell on 
her mittened handpaws. Her bird was puffed up and had its head 
scrunched. It squeezed its eyes shut and moved from side to side, 
stamping its feet in fright. The drumming sound alerted the others 
of its kind. 

      Koki yelled, "Raukor!" as, a moment later, the other 
waist-high beb-kras were kicking snow up as they clustered 
together. Their poles and packs caught on each other. 

      Grandfather and Matu Paka instantly held their spears at the 
ready, going to opposite sides of the band. Grandmother changed 
her grip on her stick from cane to club. 

      Sister-brother, the middle child, was anything but a 
warrior, but she-he was as brave as the rest of the family. She-he 
held hir cooking-knife of bone in paw and hir skinning knife of 
stone in the other, one point down and one point up. 

      Koki found herself in the midst of a circle of tensed legs. 
Everyone was stuffing bits of fluff hurriedly into their ears. 
Their breath came in visible puffs. Grandfather beat his chest and 
gave a challenging war-cry: "Hu-hu hua huuuuuu!". Matu Paka and 
his son soon joined him. Grandmother and Sheesah joined in next. 
It became a strong howling. 

      From her beb-kra's pack, Koki took the bird leg-bone with 
the sharpened point from its carrying case. Its edge was only good 
for cutting pretend-food mud-cakes. The point, however, was sharp. 
Although she was frightened and upset, little Koki was trained not 
to cry. 

      From all sides, tawny raukors with dark brown stripes rushed 
in, their predator beaks gaping to show red pointed sliver 
tongues. Their throats were puffed out; they shrieked, drowning 
out the Paka family howling. The interference between their 
high-pitched harsh voices made a buzzing sound. There were twelve 
of them, each weighing more than Matu Paka. 

      Koki saw Grandfather give an arm-signal, and point at one of 
the Raukors. Matu Paka threw his heavy spear. Its bone point, long 
as his forearm, sunk halfway in. That Raukor screamed but the 
sound was lost in the din of the others. It backed away, lifting a 
foot to scrabble at the spear. Bright blood trickled, staining the 
snow as the spear fell out. 

      The bird-pack circled closer, gnashing their flinty beaks. 
They chose a target-- moving together, they closed in on 
Grandfather. Once they picked an enemy, they would most likely 
bite it to death without getting distracted. One darted its head 
forwards and tried to snatch Grandfather's spear. He pulled it 
away-- then he felt a beak from behind closing on his upper arm in 
a powerful nip. There was pain. The bird instantly let go. Then 
Grandfather realized his hand was numb and he had dropped his 
spear. 

      Koki's teenaged aunt, Sheesah Paka, finished whispering her 
Power Words, and blew crushed dried herbs from her left paw. The 
nice-smelling motes swirled in the air like a dust-devil to plague 
the largest Raukor. It dropped to its side, rubbing its head on 
the ground, trying to stop the burning in its eyes. 

      Matu Paka's oldest son Dimu stood almost as high as Matu 
Paka's shoulder. He leaped in, and waved his spear up and down, 
fending the birds off with a heavy whistling blur. Once he 
connected with a thick skull, giving that bird a sound WHACK! 
Single-minded, they did not bother with him, but instead kept 
after Grandfather. 

      Another Raukor used its long neck to reach out and snap at 
Grandfather's haunch. It came away with blood on its beak. It 
shook its clawed wings in triumph, eyes closing in pleasure at the 
taste. 

      The Old Law said that the rest of the band must run away 
now, leaving Grandfather to his fate. He raised his left arm in 
the sign for "Go!" There were stories from ancient days to prove 
that this was the right and true thing to do. There were too many 
Raukors to fight; they had earned their meal fairly. It was the 
way of the world-- 

      Koki shrieked and ran to help Grandfather! Perhaps because 
she was hardly much taller than the widening on its knee, the 
Raukor did not see her coming. Koki thrust the point of her 
bird-bone weapon into that bulge. The Raukor's legs were hard as 
young trees, with talons like polished stones. Somehow Koki 
managed to stab through its strong skin and into the space between 
the two bones. 

      Matu Paka had only just regained his spear when he saw a 
great beak close on Koki's body, and fling her several 
furre-lengths behind it, as if she were nothing more than rag toy. 
Grandfather was suspended off the ground, two Raukors trying to 
pull him limb from limb. Cold rage surged through him, turning his 
stomach to ice, making him shake as he charged at them. He speared 
the neck of one, and Grandfather fell to the ground. The other 
Raukor backed off, prancing as if this were just a game. 

      Dimu with his spear and Sister-brother with hir knives came 
around the knot of tangled beb-kra birds to attack at the same 
time. The bewildered Raukor came crashing to the ground, its head 
flailing, a leg with talons like heavy stone crescents kicking 
hard enough to break Dimu's leg. 

      Sister-brother guarded him where he fell, lashing out with 
the stone and bone knives, fencing with the fallen Raukor. Sheesah 
Paka had another magical trick ready. She blew the bits of crushed 
leaves from her hand. This time, they flew into the bird's gaping 
mouth. It began to gasp and wheeze as it thrashed. Sister-brother 
and Aunt Sheesah dragged First Son Dimu back.. 

      On some signal, the remaining Raukors stopped screeching, 
and scattered in unison, their heavy feet making a thunder the 
furres could feel. Everything grew silent. 

      Then Koki threw her arms around Aunt Sheesah Paka, and 
wailed loud enough to be heard over the plant-down stuffed in 
their ears. The furres pulled the wads out. 

      "Paya!" said Matu Paka softly, as he knelt down to 
Grandfather, trying to comfort the elder in his agony. Aunt 
Sheesah cuddled Koki to quiet her, then handed her to 
Sister-brother. 

      Weakly, Grandfather looked up, eyes bleary with pain. He 
suspected that his right arm and left leg were both broken. Matu 
Paka fully expected Grandfather to berate him for not following 
tribal law and leaving him. Lives could easily have been lost- if 
the Raukors returned, they might yet lose others. But as Matu 
listened, Grandfather just said, "...Birches are beautiful in the 
white sun." 

      The Paka family members swiftly gathered wood for a wall of 
fire in case the Raukors came back. The sun went down but the 
Raukors did not return. Grandmother used the big blaze to boil 
melted snow and herbs, and gave this to Dimu to drink. The ache 
quieted but did not let him sleep. Aunt Sheesah was too tired to 
do a healing. Soon, everyone was asleep amongst the warm 
feather-pelts except Dimu and Sister-brother. 

      Sister-brother sat looking out away from the fire so that 
hir eyes would be keener in the darkness. Dimu whispered, 
"Sister-brother?" Sister-brother waved a paw to let him know 
she-he had heard. Dimu whispered, "do you think my wife will be 
pretty?" 

      She-he whispered back, "I do not know. Father does not talk 
to me about marriage-things. I think you should be glad to get a 
mate. And then children." Dimu blinked. He had always looked up to 
sweet and clever and strong Sister-brother; it had never occurred 
to him what it meant that she-he would never get married. 
Sister-brother went on, "For now, just worry about getting to 
Middle Lake. The ice on the river between here and there will 
break up soon. If we are delayed too long, we will not get to your 
bride at all." 

      Dimu whispered, "I promise we will have many children, my 
new wife and me. Enough to help take care of you too, when you are 
old, Sister-brother." Even if she is ugly, he thought.