What Was And Always Should Be
Plains of Africa, circa a long time ago
They were not a tribe.
The structure and organization of a tribe was something that would not be within their understanding for millennia to come.
They were little more than a group, wandering the plains of the grasslands of the African plains – but they stayed together.
Together, it was easier to hunt. Together, they were able to find more food. Together, they could care for one another. Together they could fight away the beasts that would hunt them and eat them.
Together, they were safer.
They were not a tribe, and they did not have a leader.
They did follow one of their members, however.
He was old, his hair long gone from much of his ape-like body – but when they followed him, they found food more often than they went hungry. When they followed him, they slept in warmer, safer caves. When they followed him, they found more pools of water and more fields of edible grasses and grains.
They were not a tribe, and they did not have a leader – but they stayed together and followed the old one.
They roamed the plains, working their way through the high grasses searching for animals that were small enough for them to catch and eat while trying to avoid becoming a meal for those predators that could catch and eat them.
On a hot, dry day that was no different than any other, they crested a hill – and spied the grisly carnage below them.
Parts of bodies of beings not unlike themselves were strewn about, bloody trails marking where other parts had been dragged into the high grass to be eaten in a safer environment, or taken back to feed a family of hungry cubs. Great birds scrabbled at the remains, ripping out great gobbets of red flesh from the remnants on the field.
To one side stood one of their kind, staring numbly at the scene – then with a shriek of outrage and grief, ran at the birds, waving one hand to chase the beasts from their meal, while the other hand held an infant to her breast.
It was in vain, for even as one bird would be chased away, another would take its place, devouring the dead flesh.
The group stared at the scene for a moment, then turned, ready to continue their never-ending journey.
A grunt from old one stopped them.
Startled, they turned to watch as he pulled back his lip at them, then watched him move down the hillside toward the shrieking female.
They didn't understand; concepts of reason and comprehension were not yet available to their primitive brains. What they did recognize was that she didn't look like them; their fur was dark, where hers glinted with lighter shades of red – though they did not yet have the ability to understand this difference; they only knew this female was different than they were.
The old one knew she was different as well – but still he approached her, sniffing the air as he approached. The smell of blood and flesh filled the air – but he could also detect the scent of the strange one as well.
Female.
Female – and not one of his.
She gave another shriek, chased away another bird, then caught the scent of the approaching being.
She turned to face him, an expression of fear and defiance on her face. She snarled.
He pulled his lips back to reveal his teeth – but to his surprise as well as hers, made no other move. He sniffed the air again, then thrust his head forward, focusing on her scent once again.
Protectively, she pulled the infant closer to her body, turning to put herself between the intruder and her baby.
He sniffed again, smelling the unique scent of the infant, and finding no hint of his own essence on the infant. He sneered, then reached for the babe, sensing that it was not one of his offspring, instinctively ready to dash it to the ground to protect his gene line from the contamination of another male.
To his shock, the female didn't yield up the child to his demand; instead, she batted him with her fist, pushing him back, then began shrieking at him menacingly.
Taken aback, he stared at the strange creature – then stepped forward once again, but making no move toward the infant.
Uncertain, she watched him for a moment - then leaned forward, sniffing the unmistakable scent of his potency.
She understood without understanding; submit to this male and she could join his group.
She looked at the babe in her arms, understanding that as well; to submit to this male would mean sacrificing the child she was carrying in her arms.
She didn't understand love – that was an emotion that wouldn't even exist while her people existed on this planet – but the child in her arms was not something she was willing to relinquish.
To the male's surprise, she clutched the babe to her breast, then turned, proffering her sex to the male.
The male grunted in confusion – but the scent of this female was too different, too interesting, for him not to want her.
He mounted her, filling her with himself quickly, marking her with his scent – then moved away, looking at the female uncertainly.
She straightened, but rather than proffering the child to him, kept it close to her.
He would have frowned, but even that was not yet to be for his people. Confused, uncertain, he watched as she kept the infant against her body, then started back toward where his people stood watching.
He followed, trailing behind her, her scent now mingled with his – but still teasing and taunting him with its strangeness and its allure.
The people gathered around her, uncertain as well – but the scent of the old one on her marked them as now being one of them.
Reassured, the group walked on.
Caves at Lascaux, France – circa 28,000 BCE
The shaman was not their leader; leaders came and went, changing almost as often as the seasons, killed through accident or injury or illness – but the shaman was seemingly eternal.
He knew better. He had seen more than forty summers, outliving fifteen leaders, his three mates, two of his sons and seven of his grandchildren – and yet the clan persevered. That his own life would not go on as the clan's did, however, did not bother him; death was simply another part of the endless cycle of existence, no more to be feared than birth was.
What was to be feared was leaving the clan without a replacement for his position. A leader could serve them with his guidance, his strength, his energy and his bravery – but the shaman gave them wisdom, a stabilizing influence against the frequent impetuousness of the leaders .
But finding someone who was suitable to serve as a shaman was as great a challenge as any leader who ever face – and one where rash thinking and actions were as potentially devastating.
None of his sons or grandchildren had carried the quiet calm that possessed potential candidates – nor, he had come to realize seasons ago, had any others of his clan.
It wasn't until a few seasons before, when a second clan, traveling through their territory as they followed a herd of deer at the end of autumn had asked to winter over with his group that he had found a suitable person.
Behe was the healer of their group; as such, she had been one of their leader's mates until he had been killed in a hunting accident, leaving her to raise a son alone, as none of the hunters would risk mating with her lest they meet the same fate as her mate. Indeed, they would have abandoned her to nature's whims had she not been a gifted healer, for her son possessed an eerie ability of being able to reason out solutions to the clans problems – solutions that were beyond the understanding or ken of the clan.
Ja-loo, on the other hand, recognized the value of those skills; when the spring came and the two clans separated, Behe and her son, Weles, stayed behind.
Ja-loo had begun Behe's training as the clan's newest shaman that same spring – and he had found in the young woman not only the skills of a healer and the serenity of a shaman, but the dynamic temperament of a leader.
She was also beautiful, and as the years passed, Ja-loo realized that he was in love with the young woman.
It was a love he knew she could not return, for she was but half his age; she venerated him as her teacher, he knew, but nothing more.
Still, she had chosen not to take a mate from any of the males in the clan, declining all of the many offers she was given, preferring to spend her time studying and training with Jaloo.
Now, that training was coming to an end. Ja-loo had begun to feel the weight of his time growing heavy; his muscles were weakening, and his bones ached with the chill of every morning. His time here was not yet over, for the temperate climate allowed the tribe to remain in one place throughout the seasons and he would not be an undue burden on them – but even so, he knew his time of being able to be their shaman was ending – and Behe's time was about to begin.
Before she could take her place, however, as shaman for the clan, Jaloo had one more task for his student.
Nodding to her across the early morning fire, he ignored the aches in his bones and made his way to his feet, his apprentice following him in silence.
As was the custom, they made their way to the egde of the small stream that provided water to the camp, stripped, then quickly washed themselves in the brisk water, ceremonially purifying themselves for the day's work, then dressed in leggings and tunics made from soft hides, Behe gratefully accepting the heavy fur cloak he proffered against the chill air of the late winter morning.
Following him to the entrance to the caves, she watched as he lit one of torches that stood against the opening to the cavern, then with all due solemnity, followed him into the darkness.
This was a place she had not yet been invited to see; until now, it had been a place for the hunters and the shaman alone. What this place held, she did not know, for it was not something of which the others spoke. With a shiver of fear and anticipation, she followed Ja-loo, reminding herself that not only was he her teacher, but he was her friends as well.
He would not put her life in danger.
Bolstered by that knowledge, she walked behind him down the wide passage, her eyes focused on his feet, carefully stepping where he did, trying not to notice how the top of the cave seemed to press down upon them.
They walked for some time within the cave, Ja-loo leading her through a series of twists and turns that he had learned only through repetition; without such an experienced guide to lead her, Behe knew she would have quickly become lost in the intricate passages.
After a time, his pace slowed, growing reverential as they approached their destination. Finally, he lowered the torch, and urged her to remove the heavy hide and place it on the cavern floor.
She followed his command, then, again at his direction, settled herself on the hide.
"Behe," he said quietly, his voice rich and low, commending Behe's attention and sending a shiver down her spine, "this place is for our hunters, our leaders – and our shaman. Here, we honor the spirits of all that is around us, all that is within us. Here we thank those spirits for the richness of our life, for the animals that surround us, for the life those spirits grant to our people."
He took the torch once more and held it to a small pile of dry kindling and small branches that he had assembled into a rough pyramid, quickly setting the dry wood on fire.
Behe nodded as she watched, quickly memorizing the type of wood he had used and the way he had organized the branches; there was reason, she knew, in everything he did – and it was her responsibility to learn those reasons in order to pass them on to the next shaman.
That he did not explain himself bespoke the degree to which he appreciated her intelligence; he knew that she could – and would – reason the answer for herself – and if she could not, she would not hesitate to ask him.
Indeed, he thought, he was leaving his people in capable hands.
Seeing the flames established, he took his place beside her on the hide watching as the flames began to illuminate the far wall – and Behe gave a soft gasp.
There, figures of the animals that roamed the plains and hills appeared on the wall, the flames dancing their light against them, making them prance and cavort about the wall; as they flickered, she could see the hunters that adorned the walls chasing after them, hunting them.
But the art wasn't just about the hunt, she realized quickly; here, they celebrated not only the hunters and their prey, but the power and majesty of the animals around them.
Here, the mighty aurochs rippled with strength, the deer leapt and cavorted about, the bears roared, and the horses galloped.
Here, the animals around them showed their powerful spirits to the hunters, who honored them and the life they provided to the people.
Ja-loo watched as Behe studied the paintings, nodding his approval as he saw the understanding dawn in her eyes – and smiled.
As the flames began to die back, he reached for her hand, raising her to her feet, then led her to a section of the wall that was not yet marked; placing her hand against the wall, he drew a small portion of the red ocher from the pouch he wore about his neck and sucked it into his mouth, then quickly breathed the dust over her hand.
Spitting out the rest of the powder, he told her to remove her hand, revealing the outline.
"This is your mark, Behe; your spirit is now forever among those who have come before us," he intoned solemnly. "When my time is over, you will take my place as shaman of the clan, and I know our people will persevere and thrive. I am honored to know that you will be their guide and their counselor," he added quietly.
But as he turned to face her, he saw no joy in her expression; indeed, the flickering flames glinted against the tears in her eyes.
"Behe?" he asked worriedly, suspecting she was unsure of her skills despite her years of training.
"Do not speak of leaving the people, Ja-loo; they love you. They will never be the same when you are gone," she protested.
He shook his head. "Death comes to everyone – but with you to guide them, I know our people will go on."
"Then… I will not be the same," she amended.
Ja-loo smiled regretfully. "You lack faith in yourself," he said. "You should not; you are capable and skilled and caring…"
"I am not worried about being shaman," she said instantly. "You have taught me well – and I shall honor your teachings. But…" She hung her head.
"But…?" he said with a smile, tenderly reaching for her, lifting her chin until she faced him.
They stared into one another's eyes for a long moment.
She reached for his hand, savoring the familiar touch of his rough fingers, now beginning to gnarl with age and infirmity – but still strong and powerful.
"But… I do not want you to leave," she said quietly. "I wish you to stay… with me. I love you, Ja-loo."
She drew his hand to her lips, kissing it tenderly.
"Behe…" he said uncertainly.
"I have loved you since the first time I saw you. Since I heard you speak. Since I learned of your wisdom, and your kindness and your generosity and your compassion. I have loved you since the times you sat with Weles when I was sick, and the nights you told him stories when he could not sleep."
He tried to brush aside her words. "Behe, you mistake your feelings of respect for feelings of passion…"
It was her turn to smile. "And you would choose someone as naïve as that to guide our people?" she laughed.
Despite his concern, he laughed in response; Behe was nothing is not brutally honest about herself, her abilities – and her emotions, he reminded himself.
As I must be, he added. "I'm an old man, Behe," he pointed out. "I have sons and daughters older than you – and grandchildren almost your age."
"And Cree-sa is heavy with child," Behe added, reminding him of his eldest granddaughter. "Soon you will be a great-grandfather. But age is not just a matter of the body," she reminded him. "Age is in the spirit – and your spirit is young and powerful, Ja-loo.
"You are not old, Ja-loo. Not to me. I see your strength, your power, your wisdom; I see your kindness, your love of your people, your care of their spirits – and these are not the acts of an old man," she said.
He studied her face, seeing the tears there – then raised his hand to run it through her thick red hair.
"Behe…"
"Ja-loo," she countered – then leaned close to him, pressing her lips to his.
He started at the touch – then answered her in kind, kissing her back.
The kiss grew in intensity as he responded to her touch; guiding her to the thick hide, he quickly loosened the ties that held her clothes on as she did they same for him and they began to caress one another.
She laughed. "Not so old, Ja-loo," she pointed out as she caressed his aroused manhood.
Perhaps not, he agreed silently.
Later, they lay on the hide, still wrapped in one another's arm, the lowering flames of the fire casting shadows of their bodies against the cave walls.
"Behe?"
"Ja-loo," she answered.
"I love you," he said softly.
She smiled, pressing her face against his chest, breathing in the scent of his body, then sighing contentedly.
Smiling, he pulled the hide over their bodies – and shortly after, the sound of soft laughter and contented sighs echoed through the cavern.