The Stripes of a Tiger

In the northern lands, where tall mountains pierce through clouds like knives through flesh, and where the harshness of the cold equals that of the empty wastes of snow, men dwell and survive nomadically. They move in constant movement, following the wind and its irregular path through the range of mountains and cliffs that scour the earth.

For centuries, these tribes of men and women have doted these lands, never staying in one place for more than a few days. That is, until one tribe, the Glovescalians, found a safe haven hidden within the mountains: a small valley walled off by a large range of cliffs and mountains. The highest peaks among them reaching as far as the eye can see. They act as shields against the cold winds, and the worst of the storms. There is a narrow river that cuts through the valley. The water is mostly frozen but thin enough to break through. Swarms of small trout swim underneath, more than enough to feed the entire tribe. On the other side of the river grows a large coniferous forest, rich in elks, deer, birds, hares, and other game for the hunters.

Over the years since the Glovescalians have found the valley, they’ve comfortably settled in and established a literal hub of trade and commerce for all the other tribes in the area. They built small homes and shacks using the wood from the forest and the pelts from their hunts. Nothing fancy, but it is far nicer than what any other tribe has been accustomed to. Because of this, the Glovescale tribe has nearly tripled in numbers ever since they settled in the valley - nearly a decade ago now. Still, the place is so rich in resources, nobody has yet to lack in food, clothes or shelter. The village is a place for the tired souls to rest and the spent bodies to replenish. Whoever wishes to stay is more than welcome to, as long as they earn their keep.

This morning, the younger members of the tribe have gathered at the foothills of the mountains near a small clearing, for a climbing lesson. Climbing has been a skill passed down every generation of Glovescalian. All were nomadic and used this skill to move through the mountains, and although it has perhaps outlived its usefulness - now that the tribe has settled - the elders still wished for the youth of the tribe to learn. In case it ever came for them to be on the move again, they would know how to survive and travers through the harshness of the north.

A group of older kids, all between 16 and 18, decided to split up from the main group and enjoy free climbing higher up in the mountain. They had learned how to climb already and felt confident doing so by themselves.

While climbing a cliff, one of the older kids noticed a small tree sprouting from the rocks.

“Race to the tree!” He yelled to the others who were climbing below him.

“How is that fair Njar? You’re already in front of us!” Another answered.

“Not my fault you’re a slow poke Thevis. C’mon pick it up!”

Thevis did not accelerate his movement in the slightest. He wouldn’t let himself get provoked by the likes of Njar. Something he kept telling himself every time Njar opened his mouth. The adults had always told him: “A strong and precise hand is better than a fast and clumsy one.” Every other teen climbing the cliff thought differently though, as they all started to climb faster and move over each other trying to reach the tree that Njar had spotted.

A few moments into the race, Njar was well ahead of everybody, that is until he felt a tug on his foot. He tried to pull himself up but couldn’t. He looked down and saw someone holding the edge of his boot, using it as an anchor to hoist himself up.

“Let me go Osirak!” He said, trying to kick the boy’s hand off his boot.

“You’re in my way Njar!”

“You’re the one keeping me here! My boot is not a grip for you to use!”

As the two kept arguing, another kid pulled ahead of them, claiming the first place. He was fast and climbed without any hesitation or struggle. Before he could reach the tree and claim his victory, someone else flew past him. She was fast, and climbed so efficiently it was as if gravity didn’t apply to her. Her long black hair loosely tied at her back flew in the wind like the tail of a black fox. He followed her closely, copying her path, grabbing each grip she grabbed, waiting for an opportunity to climb above her. It didn’t take long before she noticed him following closely behind. “Hey Kalgan!” She yelled to get his attention, before stomping on his head, trying to slow him down.

“Ouch! Careful Alya! You almost made me fall!”

“Well stop following me! Pick your own path idiot.” She said playfully.

They kept climbing, getting closer and closer to the tree. Alya was still in first place, Kalgan following closely behind. Njar and Osirak were all the way below, still squabbling at each other. Thevis had eventually managed to climb above them, he knew Njar would hate him for it. But perhaps he wouldn’t care as much seeing how everyone else had also passed him. Osirak still held on to his boot, not letting him climb any further.

Kalgan was picking up the pace but just before he could grab the tree, Alya had lunged on it, claiming her victory.

“Next time we’re all starting at the bottom of the cliff.” Kalgan said with a hint of irony. “You can beat me in speed but not in endurance.”

“We’ll see…” she responded with a mocking smile.

The tree was small, but big enough to hold their weight. They waited until the others came up but heard a voice yelling from below instead. “What did we tell you guys! It’s not a race! Get back down immediately!” It was one of the adults that had come with the main group to help teach the younger kids during the climbing lesson. From Kalgan and Alya’s distance he was nothing more than a dot, but Alya recognized his voice, it was her father. She could tell he was furious. As soon as they were down the mountain, he started lecturing them.

“You’re going to get yourselves killed acting like idiots. Do you know how we managed to survive those mountains?”

“Yes Tarrik, we know… by being careful… and slow… and boring…” Njar said, disinterested.

“No! By cooperating instead of competing. Competition means there’s only one winner, and everyone else loses. How is that fair? How can you survive if you don’t have anyone to look after you?” Tarrik looked intensely at his daughter who he knew had won the race. She wore a guilty look on her face.

“I’m sorry dad… but it’s Njar that started it!” She said, pointing at him.

Before Njar could say anything in protest, Tarrik responded to her:

“So next time he starts something, you won’t agree to it. Right?”

He looked at his daughter inquisitively, she looked back at him and nodded.

“Good” he said. “We’re pretty much done with the lesson, so we’ll be heading back in town. But you guys need to practice those cooperation skills.”

The kids looked at each other, slightly confused. Tarrik followed: “You’ll go hunt in the forest. Pair up in teams, I want one animal from each of you. That’ll be your food for tonight.”

Hunting in the wilds is a crucial skill taught to every Glovescalian from a very young age. These older kids know the gist of it. They marched down the mountain and into the forest. Doing what was asked of them they all teamed up in pairs. Kalgan decided to pair with Thevis, and although he wasn’t the strongest, nor the fastest, he was pretty good at tracking. His parents taught him all the secrets of nature, how to recognize edible mushrooms from poisonous ones, how to differentiate a black bear from a grizzly, how to find flint and make fire… And though he had the knowledge, brains, and wit, he often lacked the courage to use it. For Kalgan however, it was quite the opposite. He was taller, stronger, and faster, but he lacked the knowledge and patience to track. Together though, they made a great hunting pair: Thevis would track the animals, and Kalgan would kill them.

By then it was close to midday, yet the forest was dark. The tall coniferous trees reached high, and on them laid thick layers of snow which blocked the ground from most of the sun. As Kalgan climbed on one of them, the snow fell on his head. It felt as though the tree had just shat on him. His head was covered, and snow entered inside his clothes from the back of his collar. He was too close to leave now though. Sitting on a branch of the tree, firmly holding a knife in his hand, next to him was a hole in the trunk of the tree. He reached in and poked around with his knife. He heard small noises coming from the inside, and after a strong jab with his knife, he heard nothing. He then pulled his arm out and saw a squirrel skewered on his knife.

“You were right! There was a squirrel was in this tree!” He yelled to Thevis who waited below.

“Good! Come back down I found something else!”

Kalgan hopped off the tree and strapped the squirrel to his belt. He walked to Thevis who was looking at tracks on the ground. Kalgan crouched down and saw that they were hoof tracks, and that they dug deep in the snow.

“What do you think? Elk? Maybe a moose…” Kalgan wondered.

“Nah, not big enough for moose. Here look…” Thevis pointed at one of the hoof tracks. “See this? Narrow and pointed at the end. That’s a deer.”

“Still got a lot of meat on them.”

“You think you can get a deer with only a knife?”

“Well… if you help me maybe.”

They hiked downhill, following the tracks as it went around trees, bushes, and even seemed to stop for a while near a babbling brook.

“Look. It was drinking here.” Thevis said, pointing out the irregular patterns in the tracks.

“Looks fresh…”

“That’s because it is. The snow around the hoof prints hasn’t settled yet. It walked around here less than an hour ago.”

“So, we’re close?”

“Yes. Quiet from now on.”

Before long they saw it. It was quietly drinking from a stream. Its coat was golden brown and spotted white. It didn’t have any antlers, only large ears and a small nose, a female. At her back was a small floppy white tail. The boys quieted down even more the moment they saw her. Kalgan looked to Thevis and indicated for him to stay where he was, while he would quietly move around the deer. On his signal, Thevis would make a noise and scare her in the opposite direction, towards Kalgan. This would allow Kalgan to jump up from the snow, intercepting the deer and quickly killing her.

The plan was in motion, Kalgan quietly moved through the snow and behind the deer as she was still drinking from the stream. He kept a good distance, trying as much as possible to not scare her away. Before long, he managed to move all the way to her other side. Kalgan on one end, Thevis on the other, the deer in between, still obliviously drinking from the water.

Kalgan raised his hand up and dropped it back down, signaling to Thevis that he was in position, and ready. Thevis didn’t exactly know what to do to scare the deer away, so he just… yelled.

Immediately, the deer bolted in the other direction. Kalgan saw her coming closer and closer, he waited prone in the snow, tightly holding his knife. Just as she came in front of him, he jumped up. An explosion of snow and white dust sprung from the ground. The deer tried to turn back but Kalgan already had a tight grip on her. He plunged his knife in her neck. She stopped struggling and fell to the ground. Her breath was shallow. Thevis ran to Kalgan and said:

“You got it! Nice job.”

Kalgan was quiet. He knelt next to her and looked at her scarred black eyes, at the red that pooled under her, melting the snow. He held her head with one hand, and gently quieted her down as he ended her suffering. Grateful and thanking the deer for her sacrifice, Kalgan stood up, wiped the blood off his blade, and said:

“I couldn’t have done it without you.” He unstrapped the dead squirrel from his belt and handed it to Thevis. “Here, they need to think you hunted something yourself.” Thevis took the squirrel with a sorry look in his face.

“What’s wrong?” Kalgan asked.

“I’m sorry that you’re always the one killing them…”

Kalgan placed a hand on Thevis’s shoulder.

“Hey, it’s not my first time hunting with you. I know you don’t like it. You don’t have to be sorry.”

“Do you like it?”

“No. But I know that I have to do it if I want to survive.”

There was a longing moment of silence before Kalgan lifted the deer on his shoulders and held it by its legs. They began to walk back in the direction of the village.

“One day I’ll kill one by myself!”

“I know you will, eventually you’ll have to.”

“Yeah, I know… Thanks for today, Kalgan.”

“You’re welcome and thank you for helping me track them.”

“You’re welcome…”