out of place start

Yeanda was glad to see her evening meal spread across the floor when she returned to her hut. Down-Red covered Yeanda’s rug with the evening-meal cloth and laid out fresh breads and raw vegetables. Yeanda did not eat meat, and except for her breads, she preferred her food uncooked. She enjoyed the endless mashing and jaw movement. When her teeth and jaw were grinding her food, her thoughts were quieted. Yeanda motioned for Down-Red to join her in the meal.

“This looks wonderful, child. You shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble,” Yeanda said as she tore a piece from the bread loaf. It was still hot and the dough steamed when she broke it open. Yeanda spread strawberries on the bread and took a bite. The names of the women who picked the strawberries the previous week flashed through her mind. She knew that Wounded-Knee was having problems carrying her third child. She stuffed the entire piece of bread into her mouth and grinded the crust with her teeth until her mind quieted.

“Thank you, wise woman. I thought you might need the energy for the meeting tonight. Teary-Eye has been spreading some unseemly rumors since he returned from trading with the white man. The mayor asked me to warn you. There will be trouble tonight,” Down-Red said, sitting on the far side of the spread and not eating. Yeanda knew about Teary-Eye’s travels. She saw his meeting and the exchange. They spoke more about Yeanda than they did the village. She did not know what they spoke about, just that she was the subject. She recognized the white man, but stopped herself before she followed that line of thought.

“Teary-Eye has been trouble ever since he started trading. He prefers the white man’s culture to our own, and he would have us give up everything to be more like them. Do you see the clothes he runs around in? No matter how much he dresses like them, acts like them, or even tries to think like them, he will never be one of them. They will never accept him. He does not believe this when I tell him, or even when the mayor tells him, but it is so,” Yeanda said. She removed her knife from her robes and carved a large zucchini into long strips. She dipped each strip in oil and salt, and stuffed the stalks into her mouth.

“I am sorry for the trouble he causes, wise woman. I have tried to talk with him, but he will not listen. He does not see what is apparent,” Down-Red said.

“It is not your fault, child,” Yeanda said.

“But he is my younger brother, and he has grown jealous of the way my parents dote on me. If it wasn’t for me and my apprenticeship with you, he would never have become a trader. He would have stayed on Pa’s farm and the white man would not even know of our existence,” Down-Red said. Yeanda knew that the white man would know of the village regardless of Teary-Eye’s trading. Teary-Eye just made their discovery sooner than Yeanda would have wished.

“Even as a wise woman, there is only so much control you can have over your people and especially over your family, child. You will learn in time that our skills and authority are limited, and we must use them both wisely or squander any control we may assert on the village for its own good. Now, you should eat as well. The meeting will be long tonight and if I am to pass any lesson on to you, it will be how to cope with a difficult meeting with impossible people,” Yeanda said.

The village meeting was held in the inn, the largest building in the town. It was built two-hundred years ago by the first permanent settlers. The mayor is a direct descendent of its builder, Sworn-Blood, who was gifted the land by the tribal counsel after assisting in the battle on White-Top mountain. The inn survived two fires that destroyed the surrounding buildings and threatened the granary and storehouses. The inn’s wood is blackened from the fire and the goose-fat weathering. The tables were stacked along the wall and the townspeople were spread out sitting on the first and second floors, and along the stairs and walls. The mayor and his advisers sat in chairs around the blazing fireplace facing out into the inn. Yeanda and Down-Red waited just inside the entrance for the meeting to begin. They took their place with the woman and children that lined the walls of the inn, leaving the floors and better vantage places for the men. The smoke from the chimney and the tobacco pipes that most of the men smoked created a heavy bitterness in the air. There was a low chatter created by hundreds of people whispering to their neighbors.

The mayor stamped a large wooden pole with a bronze clasp on both ends. The crack echoed off the walls and the room grew quiet, except for some late shushing. The mayor wore the traditional village battle garb, a sleeveless vest of bamboo links designed to ward off sharp blows, and thick, orange woolen trousers, dyed with the bark of the woombak trees that grew around the village. A large gray mustache dominated his face, which appeared squished, his chin and eyebrows creeping closer and closer together every year. The title of mayor was a generational one. His father had been mayor before him, and his father’s father before that. All three were good men that kept the village prosperous.

“This meeting was called on request of Teary-Eye, who brings news from the white man traders. It is a village tradition that any adult male may call a meeting of the village. I personally believe that this meeting is not necessary, but I would not spit in the face of our ancestor’s tradition. Teary-Eye, you may speak whatever you feel necessary on this night. But do not keep us too long. The nights grow longer and we must prepare for the work on the morrow,” the mayor said.

The mayor returned to his chair as Teary-Eye stood up. He had been seated cross-legged in front of the mayor and his advisor’s chairs. He cleared his throat a few times and looked around the crowd. Teary-Eye turned fifteen two years before and participated in the hunt. He was skilled with the spear and killed three boars, a large number for a first hunt. He gained much prestige in the village, and used that prestige to negotiate the buying of excess stock. At first, nobody knew where he would sell the stock. The trader White-Nose already controlled the trading with the nearby villages. It was not until Teary-Eye returned with goods from the white man that the village learned what he was doing with their excess goods. Yeanda knew what he planned. But she also knew that his heart was darkened against her and she would hold no sway with him. He was a willful boy who would have done well if the villages were still at war. But in peace, his excess cleverness and desires did not have an outlet, and the one he found saddened Yeanda

“I have been to the village at the shore of the Salty-Lake. I have traded in the white man’s goods and I have learned much of their ways. They have told me stories of how they have helped our brother villages closer to their settlement. They have traded with me for the miraculous things that I have shown you. The white man is strong, but he does not have a desire to hurt our way of life. He asks only that our way of life improve. He wishes to share with us things that we have never seen and would improve our lives. They value our goods and ask for more of them. But there is something that they fear, something that even with their great explosive devices they fear.

“They ask only that we help with their fear. And in return—and in return, they promise us this,” Teary-Eye removed a golden coin from a small pouch on his belt,” This is a metal known as gold, and with it, we may buy all that the white man has to sell,” Teary-Eye said.

“What use is gold, Teary-Eye? The villages will not accept such metals. Our ancestors have stories of large caches of the metal that they found lying along the riverbanks. No matter how much they pounded and melted, they were never able to fashion this metal into weapons. It is too soft and too heavy. Is this why you called this meeting? To discuss a worthless metal?” the mayor said.

Yeanda understood what the white man was offering Teary-Eye to trade. She grasped Down-Red’s hand in her own.

Teary-Eye laughed. “No, mayor, I did not think you would understand the worth of this worthless metal. I wanted to give the people just a flavor of the treasures that the white man offers in exchange for our cooperation,” Teary-Eye said.

“Our cooperation in what, Teary-Eye?” the mayor said. The villagers murmured amongst themselves and Teary-Eye waited patiently for them to quiet down before he continued.

“The white man told me of an evil magic that left their midst. It poisoned their crops and killed their herds. It still threatens them even when it was driven from their fields and villages. They seek to destroy it to banish the curse, and claim that this evil has taken residence in our villages. They are unsure which village houses the evil, but they have sworn to burn and ransack the village, since it is the only way to ensure that the evil is destroyed. But they will not do that if we cooperate. If we cooperate in helping them banish the evil, they will reward us. They will reward us with gold and gems and weapons, the likes of which will make our hunts twice as productive,” Teary-Eye said.

A roar sounded amongst the men on the floor. “What is this evil?” an adviser said. “What type of weapons?” an adviser said. “How can we trust them?” an adviser said. “Twice as productive?” an adviser said.

Teary-Eye waited for the crowds to quiet. Even the mayor leaned forward to listen to Teary-Eye. “You have seen the weapons that I speak of. You have heard the explosion and seen the fires. You have also seen the metals they possess. They are willing to share all of this, which will enable us to rise above our neighboring villages and increase our riches, all of this if we help the white man banish their evil,” Teary-Eye said.

“We have not had conflicts with the neighboring villages in many years. We live in relative peace amongst our neighbors, a peace that my father helped bring about. Why do you risk that peace with such talk,” the mayor said.

“Every year our hunting grounds shrink as the neighboring villages extend theirs. Every year our crops fail as theirs grow fertile in lands that were once ours. Every year we watch their numbers grow as ours dwindles, our children leaving our village and seeking fortune elsewhere. Part of the blame falls squarely on the poor settlement of the land rights that your father, mayor, brought about,” Teary-Eye said, his voice rising and punctuated by a great log breaking in two and collapsing in the fireplace.

“How dare you speak of my ancestors, Teary-Eye. The settlement that you speak so uncaringly about allowed you to grow up without the risk of dying at the hands of a spear. It has brought untold prosperity to this village and our neighbors. If it was not for my love of your parents, I would slay you where you stand,” the mayor said, his hand holding the hilt of his machete.

Teary-Eye fell to his knees. “I apologize, mayor. I said things that I did not mean to. I have known your father and I have respected him. But there is something he did which pains me. The settlement that your father brought upon this village was the work of the great evil that I spoke of. He was bedazzled by the great evil and did not understand what he was doing. My words, and the deed I am about to perform, all of them, our ancestors would have understood and approved of, if they would have known the truth of what lived amongst them. For you see, mayor, there is a witch living amongst us. The white man has been hunting this witch for years for she is the great evil that the white man has told me about. She left the white man’s villages many years ago and hid out in our village. She has lived among us and pretended to care for us, while she sowed her evil. The white man told me stories, stories of how she poisoned their children; Stories about this witch pretended to be a wise woman but offered only toxic potions to her charges; Stories about this witch moving from white man village to white man village and leaving carnage in her wake; and stories about this witch’s eternal life—the evidence of her dark magic,” Teary-Eye said.

The mayor and villagers turned around to look at Yeanda. There could be no question who Teary-Eye spoke of. Yeanda understood his speech before he begun. She now knew what Teary-Eye spoke about with the white man. Her hunters were getting closer and her village, the village she had lived in for the past sixty years, would feel her hunter’s wrath.

“Wise woman, is what Teary-Eye speaks true? I cannot believe this of you. You have been nothing but good for me and my father before me. Say the word and I will slay Teary-Eye, even as his parents watch. Such evil words have not echoed in these walls for as long as this inn has stood,” the mayor said.

Yeanda watched the possibilities stack up in her mind. She saw the mayor attacking and killing Teary-Eye. She watched as Teary-Eye defended himself and slipped his blade into the mayor’s chest. She saw the anguish on the faces of the townspeople and Teary-Eye’s parents. If Teary-Eye lived, all possibilities led to the same place: the destruction of the village. If he died, there was a chance that the white man would not discover which village she lived in and the village would be saved. Down-Red squeezed her hand and she knew that she could not order him slain. What Teary-Eye had started she now knew she must finish. The people that hunted her would know where she lived. There was nothing she could do about that now. The village was lost. The best she could do was save the people and give them the opportunity to continue to live.

“She is not one of us,” a townsperson that Yeanda could not see said. “It must be true: she comes from the white man’s village. Why else would she leave them?” another said. “No white man or villager lives as long as she does. She must possess dark magic,” another said. “But the mayor has never led us wrong, and he relies on her knowledge. She delivered most of you as babies,” another said. The roar of the crowd increased and the mayor banged his staff on the ground.

“Enough,” Yeanda screamed. For all her years living in the village, she never raised her voice. When she spoke, people quieted the hear her. Even the angriest villager would quiet down if she raised her hand to say something. The villagers were shocked that her voice could be so loud. Yeanda stood up and released Down-Red’s hand.

“There will be no killing tonight. No villager has killed another villager, and such killings will not start tonight. I do come from the white man’s village. And I have been alive for a long time—longer than I would have wanted. And what Teary-Eye proclaimed is true. I do wield magic, but it is not magic that you should fear. I have only used my knowledge to help this village. That is why I came here, and that is why I remain. The white man has not arrived on your shores to provide you with new weapons or new people to trade. They have come to conquer you. The ones that seek me promise such things because they know that I can protect you,” Yeanda said.

“Lies! All lies! Do not listen to this witch woman. She admits that she casts spells in our village. She admits to manipulating our lives. She admits to hailing from the white man’s village. Do not listen to this witch. Her words are as poisonous as her actions,” Teary-Eye said.

“You will die for that,” the mayor screamed, unsheathing his sword.

Yeanda screamed for the mayor to stop, but she saw it was too late. The mayor’s sword had pierced Teary-Eye’s heart and he leaned back on his feet, still kneeling before the mayor. A loud shriek sounded from behind Yeanda and Down-Red ran forward to her brother. She pushed people away and cleared the space around him. Yeanda cursed herself for not foreseeing this possibility. She had not had enough time to see all possible outcomes. Down-Red leaned over her brother and held his cut in her lap. The metallic smell of blood permeated the inn and the mayor stared down at his hands, which were covered in Teary-Eye’s blood.

Teary-Eye’s parents stood up and all the villages turned to watch them. His father held his wife around her shoulders and stared at their son and daughter. After a few minutes, the father nodded and he turned away from his dying son. Tears stood in his mother’s eyes, but she did not cry. She faced away from her son and Teary-Eye’s parents walked out of the inn. “Down-Red, come here. I will not have that boy comforted on his fiery trip to the underworld. The gods will judge him and they will find him wanting.” Down-Red did not move and her father led her mother out the inn.

Yeanda stood against the wall. There was nothing she could say, she saw. The village would fragment. She felt her heart catch a beat when she knew that Teary-Eye had already told the white man that she was in his village. Whatever suffering she would have hoped to avoid by his death, now seemed for naught. The village was lost and his death was in vain.

Yeanda walked over to Down-Red and Teary-Eye and kneeled behind them both. She saw that Teary-Eye had died the moment the sword pierced his chest. Yeanda placed her hand on top of Down-Red and Teary-Eye’s heads and began to chant. The villager’s joined in and on the death chant. Teary-Eye’s mother’s wailing could be heard above the chanting, and only darkness and death filled Yeanda’s vision.

out of place start

Word count: 3,187

Words left: 20,391

Caffeination: tall mocha (from a café)

Feeling: I started off a bit slow until I saw where the scene was heading. I would love a chance to rewrite that scene. It could be much more powerful, but, I know, I know, I’ll keep moving forward.