Strangers


1202


Life goes on. The People hunt, and some even farm. Food is not always abundant, but Kumajam and I get by. Like The People, we never waste anything; not one morsel of meat, not one single part of the carcass that was so painstakingly retrieved for our use. We find a use for everything, and for what we cannot keep or take along, we leave near the villages and camps of The People. If not us, then they will always find better use for it than we will.

Kumazoro and I have grown quite close, though he does not know my name. I can't get mad at him for it, since I honestly don't really know what I should be called either. It gets annoying from time to time, though, hearing him insistently prod me for my name from sunup to sundown. It is also a barrier between us, something that separates us as equals. The bear, the speaking beast has a name, (albeit one that is hard to remember), but the boy who cares for him does not. The inequality makes a bit of a rift between us. A rift of resentment, at least on my part.

"Who are you?"

I don't bother to answer anymore. I just hum and pet him behind the ears so he forgets to ask for a little while. Blessed silence. It's worth it.

The bear has become more than just my friend, companion, and animal free-loader. He has ascended to my protector, when the situation calls for that role. Despite being a seemingly weak little child, I do just fine taking care of myself on my own, but one day the little bear truly proved his worth.

I was picking berries in one of my favourite groves. The berries always flourish here, and there's always more than enough to go around in this particular spot. I'll end up picking loads upon loads of the precious, juicy little treasures, stuffing them in my mouth and staining my face with their sweet juices. Such a sweet treat. I often get company, or competition for this spot. Birds and bears want to get in on the action, but we make a compromise, and just pick and eat together in peace, leaving one another to their own section of the bushes. One day, that unspoken agreement between us was broken.

There was a male bear not a few metres away from me, minding his own business as we respectively gorged ourselves on the plump red tidbits of deliciousness. It was a feast of flavour, and Kumaberry was joining me on my right side. But then, from my left, came the brown grizzly. Apparently, just berries wouldn't satisfy him today. Winter, and the call of hibernation was coming, and he was in desperate need of fresh meat. I would be the source of that sustenance, if things had gone his way.

Some may call me foolish for staying too close to such an enormous and potentially dangerous animal, and allowing him to stray so close to me. They would probably be right. Perhaps I was foolish, but I'd never had reason to fear before. For the most part, all animals, even the apex predators, seemed to... respect me. They easily tolerated me, at least. While bucks and does would flee from any other man, they would not do the same for me. The wolves greeted me like an old friend, (though didn't extend Kuma the same courtesy) and I would play with their pups. Sure, I was still cautious. Animals can be unpredictable at times, and you never know when their patience will wear thin and snap. But for the most part, we trusted each other. It almost felt like I was just as connected to them as I was to the land and The People. Not as much, but still. The connection was still there, I am convinced of it.

I should've known what was coming next. I was small, and presumed I wouldn't be seen as a decent-sized meal anyway. It'd been a tough year. The bear must've been starving to be so bold. While it lumbered closer, drool dripping and dribbling from its black lips, I just automatically assumed it was looking for a fresher, more abundant patch of the berries to feast upon. I was wrong, obviously.

A massive, powerful paw of brown fur and sharp, unsheathed claws came towards me like lightning strikes the earth. It was too fast for me to react, even if I could. I was frozen, paralysed in fear and uncomprehending shock.

SMACK!

The incoming wall of muscle, bone, and claw slashed into my face, knocking the air out of me and sending my tiny body flying like a comet. I felt wetness on my lower jaw. My vision was tinged red and flashed white at the impact. My head went blank, going into some kind of surprised seizure at the devastating blow it'd been dealt without warning.

There was no time to recover. No time to move, no time to get on my feet, and bears, in contrast, are really quite fast. Unfortunately for me...

Blearily looking up with tears of stunned pain, I could see slobbering and sharp teeth baring down on me. Hot, foul breath hit my face and ruffled my hair. In only a short moment they would be at my throat or torso, mauling me to bits. I prepared myself for an end. No child, even one as technically old as me, should be faced with that realisation: that they are about to be eaten alive. But I was different. I'd grown up in a hostile environment of kill-or-be-killed, and I knew with absolute, bleak certainty what would come next. And there was nothing I could do but close my eyes and wait. I knew I wouldn't have to wait long.

Soft but menacing roaring and growls, a blur of white to my right, and suddenly the shadow above me was gone. I peaked open an eye, trembling despite myself. I couldn't see very well, but I thought I saw Kuma fighting off the grizzly, or at least it looked that way. He stood there, defiant, over my helpless form. A flimsy but firm barrier between me and death. For some reason, the size difference between the two bears seemed less to me, but that could've just been my winded head and eyes playing tricks on me. As a result of some miracle, the male grizzly retreated without much resistance.

A wet nose nudged my neck and head, gently prompting me to move or give some indication that I was alright. Kumajune snuffled near my ear, licking it and causing me to squirm at the unpleasant sensation.

"M'okay... K-kumahiro..." Wincing, I forced my arms to lift me up to all fours, and then to gradually transition to an upright position on my knees.

When I'd recovered a bit more, praising came next, though at first it was more like unbelieving acknowledgement and coming to grips of what had just happened. "You saved my life."

"Who?"

"YOU. You saved me. I could've been eaten." Who knew if I really would've died. Something told me that death didn't apply to me the same way it did to regular people (evidenced by how extended my childhood was). But I DID know that Kuma had saved me from an unpleasant fate, nonetheless. He put his life on the line for me, without fear for his own safety. A tribute, paying back the debt for me saving his life all those years ago at our first official meeting.

"Who? Who are you?"

With a trembling bottom lip I darted forward and gathered him up in my arms, sniffling loudly. Eventually, small, keening wails began to vibrate out of my open mouth. I'd j-just... been so afraid. Insanely afraid. The fear had practically stolen my body and taken it over. I couldn't remember the last time I'd been so scared like that... it wasn't an experience or a situation I wanted to recreate any time soon. I clutched him like he was a safe-guard, my safe-place... my only comfort in an empty place. After a time, as I showed no signs of calming down any time soon, I felt his tongue slid rhythmically over my skin. Gliding smoothly over my cheeks to lap away the tears.

It went on like that for a while; Kumaroro licking and sniffing me while I cried without thought or regard. There was no one to see, anyway. No one but my friend. It was a personal moment, just us, and I didn't really want it to end. But end it did, like all things. Life moves on.


1497


It was early summer when strangers came to my shores again. Their giant canoe-island-things were different than the last unwelcome visitors', but similar all the same. The visitors themselves were also different.

I didn't learn of the man's name until far, far later.

John Cabot.

Giovanni Caboto if you prefer his real, Italian name. Apparently the English didn't like foreign names. He sailed under the Britons, an Italian hired by the King to explore and find new sea routes and unknown lands. ...And then he found me instead. I DID classify as an "unknown land", I suppose, at least to them.

The excited, strange men on the vessel were deeply entranced by one thing... Not me, not even the land, but the fish. Cod. My waters were extremely populated with cod fish. Shoals so thick that the men could simply drop down a bucket and pull up the precious resource in their dozens. I could hear their yells from my spot where I watched. I observed their amazed cries as the fish even delayed the movement of their strange boat.

"Pesce! Pesce! Mio dio! Sorprendente!"

"What's the big deal?" I curiously whispered to Kumajiro from on land.

"It's just fish. It's like they've never seen a group of them before. Isn't there fish where these guys come from?"

What I didn't know was that no, there was not. Yes, there was fish, but not in overwhelming numbers such as these. Over-fishing in Europe had declined their fish populations drastically. Who was I to know that eventually... the same would happen to me. Intense opening of fishing industry in my waters was on the horizon, though I didn't know it yet. How COULD I know? In any case, I had worse problems...

The men landed on my shores, and did something strange that I could not seem to grasp the concept of. They put something in the ground... a pole, with a thin, colourful pelt on it's top that moved prettily in the wind. I had a feeling that the pelt-thing meant something, especially with the purposeful way they planted it into the earth.

I was being claimed. For England.

Sure, it was a flimsy claim, but an attempt of claiming nonetheless. This still escaped me. It completely flew over my head. To me, it was just some pretty material with an odd design, held over the ground by a tall rod of wood. How could something like this be so important or symbolic?

These men didn't quite scare me as much as the other strangers from long ago. They still gave me an uneasy feeling, but seemed innocent and jovial enough. I approached the man who obviously seemed to be in charge. John Cabot. He had hair on his chin, a beard and a mustache, and he spoke a strange tongue that I could not grasp. After a few failed attempts at trying to communicate, we simply gave up the matter entirely. The man was intrigued by me, an endearing child, seemingly of his race, running around in this new land of "endless fish".

I pointed at the large island that had brought them here, wanting to know what it was called. He grasped my meaning immediately and answered.

"Nave. Or ship, if you prefer. You like, little bambino?"

Most of that was unintelligible, but I caught "ship". Ship seemed to be important. So... the thing was called a "ship", then. It was good to finally know what those things were called.

"S-Ship?" I repeated uncertainly, stumbling over the word and probably mangling it on my first try. The man was encouraging, though.

"Sì, yes, smart thing you are! Ship! This ship is called "Matthew". Took us all the way from Bristol, it did."

Matthew? I picked the other word out easily. It just seemed to stand out. So... the ship had a specific name to it, then? I was a little offended, to be honest. Even a senseless hunk of wood had a given name, but I still didn't. Matthew was a nice name, though... It had an interesting ring to it, not like all the other common names of The People from my home.

Matthew.

I liked it.

"Matthew!" I squeaked, unexplainably gleeful for some reason, before bounding away back to the cover of the treeline, much to the man's astonishment and bemusement.

After that little encounter, I vanished quite thoroughly off the face of the land with no further interaction. I'm quite sure he thought he'd imagined me. I never saw him again, and felt relief at that. Still, he'd seemed pleasant...


1500-1534


More strangers could be visible on the horizon, but few put their feet on land. Some did, though, and I managed to get cautious closer looks. With each new "ship" that came, my anxiety rose, bit by bit. There was always long breaks, many years in between visits, but I couldn't help but feel like they kept on getting more and more frequent. Paranoia mounted.

Summer, once again, and another group of men came ashore and planted another thin-pelt-pole-thing. It all felt very déjà vu. This one had a different design... just as colourful though, if not more so.

It was the flag that symbolised a claim for France. Of course, I couldn't know... So young, so naïve to these new men and their ways...

These new men spoke another language, a pretty one, from what I could hear. Smooth and graceful, but a little too flashy and impractical for my tastes. The one in charge, the "captain", I was told at a later date, was named Jacques. Jacques Cartier.

But there was another individual with him that caught my eye... He wasn't directly in a position of authority, I could tell, and yet there was a sort of mutual respect that they all shared for him. Blond hair that was long, to his shoulder, and curly. It kinda reminded me of MY hair. Sometimes he tied it up in a ponytail, and I liked it that way. It made ME want to find something to tie my hair back with. He had some faint stubble on his chin that I found kind of funny and ridiculous looking. His eyes were blue and kind, full of adventure, but also... sadness... A deep sadness that was being drowned away in adventure and distraction. I don't know why I was drawn to him, but it was the same kind of attraction I'd felt for Nóregr. Like we shared something in common...

But he was still a stranger. They were ALL, strangers. Intruders, really. Intruders that had no idea how to live here without dying their first winter. And there was no way I would help him, or ANY of them... right?


Author's Note:

"John Cabot"/Giovanni Caboto, sailed to the east coast of Canada in the ship "Matthew", claimed it for Great Britain, and returned to King Henry with fantastical tall (but really true) tales about the "infinite supply" of cod in the waters. This of course wasn't REALLY true, there's a crisis of hardly any cod in the Atlantic now... Yay.

Jacques Cartier claimed the area for France years afterward. He stayed longer, and we'll learn more about the details and significance of his stay next chapter!

Yes that was France at the end. Yay, Francis!

Thanks to all those who reviewed, love you~! *lesmooche* And please, keep reviewing! Reviews keep me going! NowIhavetoworkonThePriceofWisdom.