FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Tales of the Wave Rider, Volume 1 Splintered Light Prologue, pt 2: Ash-Moon

Although Ash-Moon had spent much of his life almost a day's journey from the sea he had spent most of his recent years out upon the water. On land, changing seasons were timed to the heart beat of the world and The People's attunement to the land meant that everyone knew his or her place and where he or she fit into the will of spirits. The Jackal's first time out on a ship changed all that and an entirely new world was opened to him.

Despite the fact that his people held no great love for the other Tribes and even less respect for the tamed men and women who lived their lives in their stone and timber houses, Ash-Moon had grown bored in the ways among those by whom he'd been raised. By the time he had reached his twentieth summer the Jackal had already bested most of his peers in combat; he had claimed no less than a dozen slaves from among the other Tribes; he had eaten the hearts of more prey than he could count on his paws-- and many of those had stood against him on two legs.

In the tongue of the people he and his tribe were known as the "Kaumaka"-- the "undesirable". It meant anyone, of any tribe who feasted on the flesh of others. Among the Bone Tribe only the greatest of warriors reserved the right to feast on the meat of their foes. A strong foe would give their heart to satiate the hunger of a warrior; a clever foe's brain would become a victor's newfound strength.

It was not something the other Tribes accepted, and even less so it seemed among the Stone Tribe-- the people who called themselves "Lehsunians"-- the men and women who lived in their stone homes and wrapped themselves in their brightly colored cloths. No... the people outside the Bone Tribe didn't understand their ways and because of that the Jackals were shunned. It was also because the other Tribes didn't understand them that they made such easy prey; those who were not strong enough to feed the warriors' hunger would become slaves. Most Jackals grew up caring little for what happened outside their tribe, which was why it was so strange when a Stone Tribesman was welcomed among them.

Ash-Moon was barely a teenager when the Human from far away lands came to them. He had blood on his hands and on his lips; not only had he defeated one of the Bone Tribe's warriors, the man had torn the Jackal's throat out with his blunt Human teeth and forced the warrior to reveal the location of his village with his dying breath. No one should have been able to get any information from a warrior-- dying or otherwise. Despite being nearly dead, the Human still managed to fight off three Bone Tribe guards before being subdued.

Rather than kill him, the elders instead chose to nurse him back to health. Missionaries had taught some of the Jackals the tongue of the Stone Tribe before being killed and so they used the language to speak to him once he had awakened. Rather than referring to himself as a Lehsunian he instead explained he was Wyranese-- something that mattered little to the Tribe as a whole but instilled in Ash-Moon a great curiosity. He had not heard the man speak the words directly as he did not understand the language... but it made him want to learn.

That had been ages ago, and he had since parted ways with his people in order to make his own way in the world. The greatest problem he faced when stepping out into the lands of the Stone Tribe and away from his Tribe was the simple fact that, no matter how little love the Bone Tribe had for the other people, those same people had even less love for the Bone Tribe. It was not long before Ash-Moon had slighted the Stone Tribe and been locked away in one of their stone buildings with metal bars keeping him caged.

Although his stay was short lived, the Jackal found himself right back there on more than one occasion. He had learned their language during the time the Human spent with his people but it did little to help him understand their ways and on his last time as a prisoner they told him further offense would force them to lock him away forever. The warning did not help, however, and in order to avoid having them make good on their promise he fought back, wounding both of the men who attempted to imprison him. Eventually he failed to maintain his freedom and it was only due to the intervention of Alistair Jacksoni that he was not still trapped.

The Tiger was as alien to Ash-Moon as anything when they had first met, but after a number of years his Captain was the most comfortable thing about the alien world the Jackal had come to explore. Even if they didn't fully understand one anothers' culture they understood each other as individuals and there was a respect Ash-Moon felt for his benefactor-- a fondness that was rarely reserved for anyone not of his own tribe. It made the Jackal want to do right by him, as if the Tiger were his friend, or war leader... or even family.

Alistair had shown Ash-Moon about sailing-- how to direct people of the Stone Tribe and how to help facilitate the movement of the large vessel across the water. No Bone Tribesman had ever become a sailor but the Jackal considered that a point of pride. Back among his people Ash-Moon had always been the first in everything, so why not a new trade? Alistair had trained him well and it was not long before the Tiger put him in charge of making certain everything on the ship ran smoothly and well. He had vowed never to let his Captain down, and had not failed-- not even once.

Ash-Moon's voice was not as deep or as growl-y as some of the men on board but he never let that stop him when shouting out his orders. Each and every one of them knew that his bite was far worse than his bark and so his demands of them may as well as have been delivered by the Spirits themselves. He used that to his advantage at all times. Passing through the ranks of the scurrying sailors the Jackal occasionally pointed and shouted, ordering them around whenever he saw a lack of obedience, efficiency, or concern. It was rare since the Goat officially in charge of the deck did a good job of keeping the men moving.

What hung above the deck, however, was a different matter. Raising his gaze skyward, the Jackal frowned. "VIKTOR!"

The Hare, who had been perched near the top of the Fore-mast reached out and grabbed hold of a hauling line. He kicked it loose after wrapping his lower foot with a coil of the rope and slid down to the deck in one smooth dismount. He approached the Jackal with a indifferent expression, stopping once he was within speaking range and crossed his arms over his chest. "Aye?"

"Why aren't the sails ready? The Captain wants to be away."

The ship's Rigger had never been respectful but Ash-Moon was content to bide his time; even if it wasn't by the Jackal's paw, eventually there would be a reckoning, especially since Viktor did not get along well with the ship's Foreman. Without so much as a deference for his rank, the Hare responded to the First Mate blandly. "We're rigging for a lateen sail. We need it for the way the wind is blowing."

It was an argument Ash-Moon didn't feel was necessary to have. If the Rigger needed to change the sails then the Rigger needed to change the sails. "Then do it. We are leaving with the tide, so be ready."

The Hare continued to stand there passively. "Anything else... sir?"

The lag between the question and the title could very well have been meant as an insult but Ash-Moon had little care over whether or not Viktor respected him; he wasn't worth the Jackal's time. "No. Just do it quickly."

Willem Zuider, the ship's Foreman clopped his way over across the deck to where the Hare and Jackal were meeting. He regarded Ash-Moon in his usually overbearing manner. "Everythin' alright, Herr Ash-Moon?"

The word 'Herr' was an honorific Ash-Moon had come to know from the time dealing with the Human who had come to his village-- despite the fact that the Foreman was from the lands called Doelich and not Wyra their languages seemed close enough that the title was the same in either tongue. The Jackal wasn't particularly in need of the assistance so he ignored the Goat. "Go, Viktor. You are dismissed."

Willem snorted. "Aye. Get goin', Rope Rat."

The Hare offered up a gesture with his paw in a fist and his thumb sticking out between his index and middle finger and with nothing more than a tug on the rope; one of the booms slid away from the mast, providing a counterweight and sending Viktor right up into the rigging. Ash-Moon glanced at the Goat, who was grating his teeth. "What was that?"

The Foreman snorted anew. "He flipped me off."

Ash-Moon cocked one ear sideways and the other toward the Goat. "What does that mean?"

Willem held up his paw and offered several different movements with his fingers. "It's the same as this... or this... or this... or this."

The Jackal took his turn to snort. "Stone Tribesmen are strange."

The Goat scowled-- it was not an abnormal expression on him. "Eh... just forget it, Herr Ash-Moon. He's a sick creature... ate his whole family, or so the story goes."

Both of the Jackal's ears rose as the Foreman wandered off. Ash-Moon glanced back toward the rigging where Viktor was busily ordering around his fellow sailors. Despite the Hare being on the ship for quite some time the First Mate had never heard anything said about Viktor being a Kaumaka. It brought up several questions and Ash-Moon always made it a point to get questions answered.