Okay, so I did this earlier for school, and I rather liked my two main characters, Smokechild and Largebelly. I'm curious as to what you guys think, and if you think I should keep going. I don't care as much for this piece, but I suppose it's alright. Alright so, here it is, and if you have any ideas on what I could write about in The Chronicles of Smokechild and Largebelly, feel free to message them to me or just post them here. Be harsh!!
This winter was predicted by the Elders to be mild and barren of large amounts of snow, but for perhaps the first time in a hundred years the Elders were wrong. Now the clouds overhead were dark and ominous, and were beginning to spit hail like one might spit out a rotten piece of fruit. Everyone in the village took cover in their tiny wooden huts, but it was no use. Once the assault had ceased the roofs of almost every home were badly mangled. Still, however, the families thanked their apparently sturdy little homes for protecting them from injury. A small girl, the daughter of none, sank slowly onto the prickly and uncomfortable ground. She sat cross-legged, and snatched up one of the many persimmon sized chunks of hardened water. Everyone bustled around her in a small panic, checking on babies and trying to regroup themselves. The Elders were wrong! No one could remember when such an event had last happened. The girl snorted disdainfully at the crowd of people running around. They were all unintelligent in her mind, including their oh-so special Elders. But of course she’d never say it out loud for the punishment for disrespecting a person of a higher ranking than you was a severe lashing. It was simply not tolerated.
Two of the Elders were now standing in front of their hut, which was larger than the others, with their wrinkled and leathery-skinned hands raised in the air as if that would quiet everyone. To the girl’s surprise, it did. Everyone stopped dead, not including the toddlers, whom wriggled around and made their odd gurgling noises still. She stood begrudgingly, not bothering to wipe the snow off the backside of her elk skin dress. It was tattered at the bottom from many years of use, and the seat was slick from many a rough-barked log sat on, but still the girl wore it. It was, after all, the only clothing she had. She stayed in the back of the group, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. There was no punishment for glaring! The Elders were talking about how they’d miscalculated and the gods were very angry now. Someone would have to climb to the top of the mountain to retrieve a very special offering there. Then, the heavily wrinkled and scarred woman pointed a crooked finger straight at the girl.
“Smokechild, you shall be scaling the peak to retrieve such an offering. You are to prepare immediately.”
The woman’s voice was cracked and weak, but still the entire village turned to stare at the girl. She swallowed a snide remark and instead attempted to choke out something civil,
“And, why might I ask, am I chosen to perform such a treacherous task?” she spat, annoyed at the old woman’s reference to where she was found as a baby.
“It is because you disgrace us and the gods daily, perhaps a journey like this one would adjust your attitude, no?”
Smokechild glared at the woman once more, “Very well you leathery-skinned old bat.” A man then grabbed her arm fiercely, and tried to take her toward the Punishment Area. For once the girl was glad that the old woman spoke now,
“Wait,” she bellowed, and the man stopped dead and released Smokechild, “Tis no use in beating her. It has been done before. Just help the girl collect things she’ll need for her journey and she shall go.” At that, the woman and the other Elder beside her disappeared into their hut and out of view. The crowd dispersed and went back to whatever they were doing, and then the man gestured for Smokechild to follow him.
They went first to a hut, and he went inside for a moment then returned with a leather sack which contained to loaves of bread and a large shank of preserved meat. She longed to peer inside the Supplies hut, but knew better than to poke her nose where it didn’t belong. There was no clue what they had in there to protect it. Her ‘tour guide’ shoved the pack into Smokechild’s chest and then turned and continued walking. The next stop was at the Horse Area. The large, multicolored beasts meandered around sniffing for food. Horses were very well respected here, and so were fed better than the people. She watched to stallions squeal and nip at each other, only to have the smaller of the two spin and kick at his opponent. Smokechild giggled, the lesser man had won! The man returned shortly leading a slightly overweight packhorse named Largebelly. He had a huge head and a convex nose, with small ears and a pudgy belly. His scruffy white coat was combed clean as well, and he kept snapping his teeth at his captor.
She was then assisted in climbing atop the fat beast, and given simple instructions of how to ride. Squeeze your legs to go faster, tug on his mane to slow down and turn.
“I do not trust you with our other horses. I do not want you to hurt this one, either. However useless he may be.” With that, she was told to leave. Smokechild nudged Largebelly in his sides with her bare heels, and he set off at a slow trot. Soon enough they were out of the village and on their way up the mountain. The gelding quickly began to pant, and the child could see why he was castrated. The village would not want such blood intermixed with the other horses’.
The next few days were extremely difficult, quicksand, mud, bugs and other dangerous things galore. Smokechild also took a few tumbles from her finicky steed, leaving her bruised and sore. Over this time she realized how good she had life at the village. They may have disliked her because of her personality and because she had lost her mother to a fire, and that originally she was from another village. She was an overall bad person to them but yet they still cared for her like one of their own. It was then she began to miss her home, and urged Largebelly onward with more zest than before.
They were almost at the peak of the mountain, where the supposed offering was, but the horse was much too large and heavy to carry them both up the severe incline. Smokechild slid off the back of the horse, who she’d slowly become fond of, and tethered him to a small tree with a vine. She scampered up the hill and saw nothing, only a mother deer and its limping fawn. At the sight of the human the doe sprinted away, squealing her alarm, but the fawn seemed injured and couldn’t keep up. It fell onto the rocks and cried helplessly, the mother nowhere in sight. The girl scooped the tiny creature up and looked it over, finding its leg to be broken. She shrugged; maybe this was all set up by the gods! Then she went back to Largebelly and rested the fawn over his thick withers before mounting. By then the horse was almost in shape, and had figured out how to get around the rocky ground best. Smokechild turned him around toward home, and they slowly began the trek back home.
Once they arrived, the girl flung herself off the horse and bolted into the Elders’ hut, a major offence. She clutched the flailing and crying deer in her arms, and was quick to reveal it to the five old men and women in their home.
“Very good, Smokechild. The gods are pleased with your hospitality toward this fawn, I’m sure. But this was not what I wanted you to bring back.”
The girl’s heart dropped, “Then what was it?”
“A greater respect for everyone and everything around you, tell me, young one, have you achieved this goal?” The old woman had a wry smile on your face.
Smokechild grinned, realizing what all of this was, “Yes madam, I have.”
Well anyways thanks again!
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