Dragon Clan: In The Beginning

CHAPTER FIVE

Seth bent and held a palm on the warm dirt floor again. Would it stay that way all winter? He missed the significance of Dawn’s last words as he examined and wondered at the function and beauty of the bowls. Someone had painted designs on them before the final firing. He said, “Hey, I wonder if any of those apples on the tree are still good to eat?”

Before Dawn could respond, Seth ran out the door and headed for the orchard at a full run. He pulled a small apple from an overgrown tree and found it hard, tart, and as good as any he’d ever tasted. Here and there, apples still hung from three or four trees. Other trees were different varieties, but all were tall, tangled, and badly in need of pruning, a few appeared to have died. The fruit on most would grow small and sparse until pruning, if Seth were any judge.

Pruning the fruit trees and cutting down the dead ones would provide more than enough wood for the winter, and it grew close to the caves. He’d helped his father prune and carry off branches to a burn pile since he was young.

Chewing the apple to the core, he glanced at the tangled weeds growing nearby. Some grew other plants from gardens generations ago. He recognized several. Beans, onions, and radishes were obvious. Cultivating them would bring more food to the table. He carried five small apples to Dawn, who accepted one as if it was gold instead of fruit. He stared at it a long time before taking the first bite.

While Seth had been looking at the orchard and garden plot, the old man had removed almost everything from the inside but a few of the larger furnishings. He sat on the ground under a shade tree, a pole balanced across his knees. A fistful of green straw lay beside him. After lining up the straw, so it all faced the same way, he placed it at the end of the pole. Then, he used a green straw to wrap around it until it formed a cone secured to the pole.

The activity interested Seth if for no other reason than that he had no idea of what Dawn was doing. When Dawn finished tying the straw, he used his knife to cut off the straws to the same length. He headed inside and began to sweep the dirt floor at the farthest part of the cave with his new broom, working his way to the front door.

Seth leaped to help remove the larger bits of wood and debris remaining inside. The front door, sat to one side, leaning against the wall. A tanned hide would do for a temporary one. He didn’t’ want any animals wandering inside, and when the weather turned colder a sturdy door would help. He sniffed the air and found it smelled better with the missing door, but still with a slight mustiness. In almost no time the three rooms were clean and the dust settling. Dawn inspected the oven and chimney.

“We can use it, but leave the window uncovered, or the cave will fill with smoke. We need to mix some mud and perform a few patches. That’s something you might do.”

He was right. The cracks allowed some smoke to seep inside, but it also seemed to chase away the damp smells and replace them with the familiar smells of campfires and food. Thinking of food caused Seth to glance at the little row of apples he’d placed on the window ledge. But first, he went to the stream and used a strip of bark to carry back mud. With the fire burning in the stove, he saw where the smoke issued forth and quickly patted mud on each place.

Dawn was back under the shade tree weaving green strips of reeds. He asked, “Did you bring that little bow you were going to shoot at me? Up the hill, I mean?”

“The string got wet. So, did the arrows.”

“I saw they lost fletching. No problem, a little pine pitch will hold the fletching long enough to use, I suppose. But, I think you left it in the canoe since I didn’t see you carry it. A good bow needs care, so why don’t we go get it, and maybe get our dinner, too?”

Seth had almost decided to defend himself at leaving the bow, but the thought of dinner drew his attention. “We don’t have anything to hunt with.”

“And by the time we climb back down to the water and back up here, most of the day will be gone. If we’re going to eat today, we’d better move.”

They went down the mountain quickly, and along the way, Dawn paused long enough to cut a tall, thin tree. He stripped the branches off and shaved the skinny top to a point, then motioned for Seth to lead. Dawn peeled the bark and carved the broader end into a flat wedge, then used his knife against a tree to split the end.

Seth watched but said nothing. When Dawn asked him to carry the stick, he assumed it was because Dawn was too tired, but Dawn cut another branch and carved as he walked. When they reached the canoe, the bow and two arrows floated in the water. After retrieving his weapons, they pulled the canoe higher into the trees so nobody would see it from the water, turned it over, so it didn’t fill with more water if it rained, and tied it to a tree, just to be sure.

Winter storms bring high water, and the canoe would be hard to replace. Dawn explained, again sounding like he was telling a tale. Seth glanced at the distance to the water and decided not to believe the story.

Dawn again carried his stick, fitting a carved crotch of a small branch into the split at the end. He sat on a rock and carved it again until satisfied. He held it up for inspection. “Like it?”

“What is it?”

“Our dinner catcher. Let me show you how it works.” Dawn was smiling and acting like a three-year-old with a new toy. He went to the edge of the water where the waves didn’t churn it into the milky murk, then he carefully walked in, stepping on the slippery rocks with care, the stick held high.

Pausing, he stood in water up to his knees and watched the surface, the stick raised high. He drove the end of the stick into the water and retrieved it, giving Seth a glance from the corner of his eye, as if he had something to prove. He stabbed again. Then, the third try was different. The stick leaped and twisted in his hands. Dawn leaned forward and held the spear point down to the bottom of the water and pushed harder, then with his other hand reached in and lifted out a fish nearly as long as his forearm. The bloody fish wiggled and flipped, but Dawn had a grip on it, and a wide smile on his face.

“Dinner,” Seth shouted.

Dawn waded from the water and handed the fish to Seth, then removed the barb at the end of the stick from the body of the fish. Seth realized the pointed stick alone would not have held the fish, and it would have swum away. The carved hook was what Dawn had been making.

Dawn cleaned the fish at the edge of the water, tossing the discarded parts back in. “Attracts more fish,” he explained. In the caves, Dawn placed the fish on a flat rock that extended over the fire pit. The fish sizzled from the heat of the rock, and that answered why the rock was there, as well as why Dawn wanted to build the fire before they left. The rock needed time to heat. The old man didn’t say why he did a lot of things, but he showed them in such a way that Seth learned.

While the day still held plenty of light, Dawn took him to an area beside the lake and waded in. They carried armfuls of reeds back to the cave. With nimble movements, he showed Seth how to weave. Before dark, each had a mat for sleeping.

The fire in the oven still burned enough to shed light, and as Seth laid on the warm ground, on top of his woven mat, a thousand thoughts flooded his mind. Images of islands, smoking mountains, secure caves, and flying dragons, filled his head. The island was paradise. But all was not perfect. He glanced at the sad expression Dawn wore much of the day.

Seth asked, “Everyone died?”

“All but me.”

“So, you ran away?”

“No, I stayed here for years, but grew lonely. People need to be near others.”

“So, you closed all the doors and left?”

Dawn paused and said, “That would be a short way of telling my story.”

Seth couldn’t sleep, and he listened to the soft, regular breathing of Dawn, the rasp, and cough that broke the silence now and then. “Tomorrow we can build a smokehouse.”

The old man took a few deep breaths and said, “You can build that.”

“You’re not going to help me?”

The laugh degenerated into a coughing fit. The old man said, “I think I’m going to change my name tomorrow morning.”

Seth smiled to himself. This again.

“I might change it to Sunset.”

“I like Dawn better. I’m getting used to it.”

“It’s not your choice.”

Seth laid awake thinking of the name change. “You know, when you change it, it’s hard for me to think about you with the new one. What was the name you had when you lived here?”

“Awa, a name that meant funny, or prankster in our language.”

“That suits you. Why don’t I call you that since you’re home again?”

“We need to go to sleep, now.”

“Okay, Awa.”

“Sunset,” Dawn corrected him, but it sounded like he was smiling.

The following morning Sunset slept late and when he stood the first time he almost fell. His eyes took on a glazed look that hadn’t been there the previous day, and he moved slowly and didn’t eat. While Seth gathered wood, explored, and killed a chicken, the old man sat in the shade and looked out over the trees on the lower hillside to the expanse of water.

Seth paused several times to look out there too, but saw nothing to hold his interest. He cooked the chicken on the top of the stove, he wove more mats to use as padding for their mats, and he found and carried six chicken eggs back to the cave.

Twice he dodged under the cover of trees to hide from dragons flying overhead, but watched them through the foliage with rapt fascination. Late in the morning, one flew by and screamed so loud and long Seth used his palms to help shut out the sound.

He noticed Dawn, who now only answered to Sunset, sitting in the same place under the palm. He hadn’t done any work all day, hadn’t eaten, and didn’t turn to face Seth when he talked to him. The old man didn’t answer most questions.

The third morning on the island, he didn’t wake.