6. The Soul of Asha

All members of the Asha Tribe gathered deep in the forest. Anger sailed through their hearts, combined with fear for Misha’s life. Kesho had joined them, but knew nothing more. Another day of uncertainty, another day without Misha, and who knows what they would have done.

But when the sun set, Kesho noticed a silhouette among the trees. It swerved as if too tired to walk in a straight line or properly raise their paws.

The creature was far too large to be Misha.

It also shone in the darkness, which Kesho didn’t remember as being a special power of his sister.

A sabretooth tiger joined them. But none were afraid, for this beast was familiar. Ardex, god of Fire and Death, eldest of the demigods. As he stepped towards them, a fire started to combat the darkness of night, which somehow created two shadows for everyone.

Ardex looked … exhausted?

“I came as quickly as I could,” he said. “Which was unwise, given my lack of stamina.”

“You heard our prayers?” Helera asked, Kesho’s mother. “You can hear everything?”

“Surprisingly, I can hear your prayers, and yours only. But that’s not the reason of my visit. Eeris revealed that she has been helping tribes in this area for many winters. If I’d known, I would have called an end to it immediately!”

They all looked at each other. Farshar was the first to speak. “Thanks to Eeris’ help only three people died last winter. We could’ve all died from starvation. Why would you stop that, oh demigod?”

Ardex smiled. “And the Jagu Tribe? Whom she helped by giving them a magical stone that keeps their food from spoling? Are you happy about that too?”

“Please,” Helera begged, “tell us where Misha is. That’s all we ask.”

Another creature stepped to the side, previously behind Ardex’ back. Misha was severely wounded. She studied the ground, too ashamed to even look her tribe in the eye.

Her tribe, however, saw nothing be ashamed about. Kesho’s parents ran for her and held her tight.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” they repeated.

“Oh, well, I had nothing to do with this,” Ardex said. “And I won’t interfere, if I can help it. Some Gosti named Jambir went wild to save her. His fate is out of my hands.”

“Jambir,” Misha mumbled with tears in her eyes. “We must save him.”

As Kesho hugged his sister, something ached and bubbled in his belly. An anger, a fighting spirit, the desire to hit all jaguars in the face and personally destroy all their stupid fences. He’d give his one good arm to kill them all.

An anger more hot and painful than any he felt before. Except … except that one time, many years ago, when Ardex also came to visit.

“What happened, dear?” Helera asked. “Did Jagu hurt you?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. What happened?”

Misha cried until her parent’s fur was dripping wet. “They told me to obey their commands if I ever wanted to eat again. And I knew they were right, because we didn’t have any food. And I was so hungry. And then I wanted to find you, but you were gone, and they told me that you also obeyed their commands and agreed to this, and—”

“You believed that?” Farshar yelled. “We would never treat you like that. None of us. No soul of Asha will ever be a slave to those jaguars.”

“But what’s the alternative?” Murfa said. “We have no food. We can’t go anywhere. We already depend on their food storages.”

They all focused on Ardex. He instantly shattered their dreams. The exhaustion in his voice matched that in his body. “I’ve interfered with life too often and have ruined it each time. Leave me out of it.”

All tribe members shared the rage in Kesho’s belly. Murfa impatiently tapped a tree. His wife sharpened her spear. Helera’s eyes could have killed, her muscles tense.

Was that simply the result of Ardex’ presence? Was it their hunger due to food shortage? Or … was it the only possible reaction to this obvious betrayal?

“You’re right,” Misha said. She joined her father in the middle, next to the campfire. “This can’t continue. We must attack.”

“Attack?” His grandparents had finally opened their eyes and ears, and could not believe what they saw and heard. “Are you mad? That would be the end of Asha.”

“I agree,” Kesho quickly added, as he pulled down Misha’s raised first. “We must cooperate! If we stay friendly, Jagu promised, we’ll be fed forever.”

“We are slaves to nobody,” Farshar and Misha yelled. “We attack.”

“Stop! No! Listen to me,” Kesho tried.

“I repeat,” Murfa said with increased intensity. “What’s the alternative? We walk back, we reach an area without food and a sea we can’t cross. We stay in camp and become Jagu’s slaves.”

Farshar stood on his hind legs. His full size dwarfed the others, especially as he heroically raised his spear. “What does a creature do when you steal his food?”

“He … attacks?” several members spoke tentatively. The deer and the birds, usually the calmest of all, bounced and shuffled in place.

“What does a creature do when you steal his territory?”

“He attacks and takes it back.”

“What does a creature do when you attack him?”

“He fights back in self defense!”

“What does a creature do when you steal his wife?”

“He fights back and kills you!”

Farshar roared. “It doesn’t matter who they are, or what they are, or what they look like. The Jagu Tribe is a threat to our survival! And a threat must be attacked and chased away! For if we wait, they’ll attack first and the Asha Tribe will fall!”

Misha grabbed a spear and yelled with him. “For Jambir!”

“Follow me in a surprise attack tonight!” Farshar screamed. Kesho had never seen him this strong, this powerful, this heroic. As he grew up, he wanted to become like his father—right now he wanted to be as aggressive as him.

But his father made the wrong decision.

Kesho tried to interrupt and provide his own arguments, just like Murfa, but Farshar overruled them all with volume and threats.

“We destroy those jaguars and walk onwards toward freedom!”

Kesho and the rest of the tribe walked to Farshar and Misha.

But not to join their speech and prepare the fight.

They grabbed Farshar’s paws and bound them behind his back. Kesho struggled to comply. But those were the rules! So he helped chain his own father to a tree.

Misha tried to free her father, but was easily pushed aside by Murfa.

“What are you doing!?”

Murfa squatted before Farshar, whispering. “And what remains of the soul of Asha,” he said, “if we become a tribe of murderers? If we get a king who encourages us to execute surprise attacks?”

“We have no king and we want no war,” a deer said.

“War is for dinosaurs, and gods, and souls doomed to fight,” Kesho’s grandmother said. Ardex nodded in agreement, but, as promised, didn’t interfere. “Not for Asha. Our soul is peaceful and cooperative.”

“Our soul is still a living creature,” Farshar mumbled, “thrown into cruel nature.”

He wouldn’t convince anybody. Murfa did look guilty. “I’m sorry, Farshar, but this is the way.”

Kesho knew it was the way. Once anybody tried to become their boss or speak for the entire tribe, everybody else was supposed to stand up and put them in their place. Instantly, without doubt. But when it happened to your own father, it suddenly seemed a silly rule in Asha’s culture.

“Then tie me as well,” Misha said with confidence. “You are fools for not attacking.”

A jaguar appeared. On short paws, the Prince hobbled into the light of the fire. He eyed Ardex—hidden in a corner—and Farshar—bound to a tree—with surprise.

Kesho hoped he had heard nothing of this conversation. The prince had two shadows as well, though his second one seemed wrong and far darker than the other.

“King Jagu apologizes sincerely for what happened. A … miscommunication that led to the wrong Gosti being put to work. He hopes you can forgive this … slight misstep.”

Everyone glanced at Farshar. Their eyes seemed to speak: you see, it was a mistake and we should still try to cooperate with Jagu.

Kesho saw his chance to prove his worth, to his own tribe and Jagu. “As I said,” he loudly proclaimed, “it was all a misunderstanding and the Jagu are our friends.”

They took turns telling the jaguar that they forgave them.

The speed at which they forgave was another insult to Misha. She snuggled closer to her father, who still fought against his bonds.

“Is … is that the decision of the entire tribe?” the prince asked.

“The majority forgives you,” Murfa reluctantly said. “That’ll have to do.”

The prince sighed and snored through his dented nose.

“Then the king invites you to a feast. To overcome differences and talk about the future. He reminds you that there was talk of mammoth meat just outside camp. Perhaps bring that?”

“Great idea,” Kesho replied, though he wasn’t sure how much of it was still edible. “I say yes.”

That convinced the tribe. The prince, again, had to accept some nods and mumbles as Asha’s response. He still looked at Farshar as if he had the final say, but father kept his mouth shut and looked away.

“Then I’ll tell Jagu the great news! And I am sure Ardex wouldn’t mind creating some more fires for us, eh? May it become a beautiful night!”

Ardex rolled his eyes, but a heartbeat later they could already see dots of yellow light in the distance.

As the prince turned away, Kesho ran after him.

“Where is Jambir?”

“Where that piece of garbage belongs.”