Southwest Colorado
800 years ago
* * * * * *
All men and women are born, to live, suffer and die; what distinguishes
us one from another is our dreams, whether they be dreams about worldly
or unworldly things, and what we do to make them come about... We do
not choose to be born. We do not choose our parents. We do not choose
our historical epoch, the country of our birth, or the immediate
circumstances of our upbringing. We do not, most of us, choose to die;
nor do we choose the time and conditions of our death. But within this
realm of choicelessness, we do choose how we live. -Joseph Epstein
* * * * * *
The blazing sun mercilessly beat down on to the hard baked clay of the
earth. The land seemed to absorb the white light from above, and
radiated the light back to the boy's eyes. The colors all seemed wrong.
The young boy rubbed his eyes, hoping that action would pull the colors
back to their original hue.
He opened his eyes. It was the same. The colors were much too bright.
The red-orange of the earth glowed as if lit by a fire within; the
cloudless sky too brilliant a blue. The green mass of pine and fir trees
that covered the tableland rippled in the wind. He stared in amazement
as the rest of the land followed the trees' example, and began to ripple
as well. He closed his eyes again, trying to ignore the wave of
dizziness that washed over him.
He had to get his eyes off the endless horizon and focus on something
near. He picked up the hallowed out eagle bone at his side and set to
carving what would ultimately become a flute. His grandfather had been
teaching him how to play, and it was time for him to create his own
instrument. He worked carefully, making sure that each stroke, and each
shaving was as it was supposed to be.
The boy worked in silence for several moments, occasionally looking over
the outcropping that he was stationed at, when he heard movement behind
him. He rapidly stood and whirled on his feet, which didn't do much to
calm the queasiness within him. He held his small carving knife in his
hand and tensed, ready to act.
He was met by his little brother's laughing face. "You call that a
weapon? You couldn't kill a lizard with that." He motioned disparagingly
at the small stone knife. He continued to laugh as he set his package on
the ground.
The older boy ignored the taunting and sat back on the ground, taking
his previous position. "What do you want?" He spoke gruffly, trying to
cover his embarrassment.
The other boy sat down next to him. "Mother sent me to get you. She said
that you'll get sun sickness if you stay out here much longer."
"I can't leave. I have a very important job to do, one that I must take
very seriously."
His younger brother snorted. "Important? Ha! The only reason they told
you to do this was because you were getting in the way of the *men*." He
stressed the last word pointedly.
As predicted, his inflection got the expected response from his older
brother. "I *am* a man, and this is a man's job."
"Maybe in a few seasons. Anyway, if you were a real man... why is he,"
the younger boy pointed to the east of them, at another lookout, "why is
he looking in the same area you are?"
"I'm making sure that he is doing his job." The younger boy just looked
at him a moment longer before a smile cracked his face and a stream of
giggles poured out.
The elder looked distastefully at the giggling boy next to him. "You
laugh too much."
"And you don't laugh enough. I like to laugh, it makes me feel alive."
His brother didn't respond to his comment, so he continued. "So you
aren't coming back with me?"
"No, I have my job to do."
The younger boy smiled at this news, unsurprised. "That's what mother
figured you would say, that's why she had me take this." He twisted his
torso and reached for the package he had set on the ground behind them.
He pulled out a container filled with water and handed it over. The
older boy eagerly took it from his grasp and gratefully drank the
liquid.
As he drank, his younger brother set into motion. He pulled out a woven
blanket. "If we are going to stay out here," he tossed one end of the
blanket out, unfolding it, "we need to get out of the sun."
He pulled the refreshing liquid away from his lips. "We? I don't need
you out here with me."
"Sure you do. Who else will get you more water when you need it? Come
on, help me with this." He stood up and pulled on his older brother's
hand.
The older boy sighed, hiding his smile. With a great show of reluctance
he stood and helped his grinning brother.
* * * * * *
The sweet smell of pine filled the air as night set in, brought by the
night breeze that ruffled the needles on nearby trees that covered the
hills that led to the canyon below. Looking out past the cliff and to
the broad rolling forest below, the older boy could see the trees shift
in the silver touch of moonlight.
He looked down at his younger sibling, sleeping peacefully next to him.
The young boy had kept his word and had restocked both their water and
food supply so that the older boy could remain at his post. He'd done
well, never complaining, even as his older brother sent him on even more
useless and mundane tasks as the day progressed. Now exhausted, the boy
slept upon one of the woven mats he had been sent to get on one of his
many missions.
The boy glanced in the direction of his home. He couldn't see it of
course, the way that it was tucked into the sandstone cliff both
protected it from the elements, as well as hid it from casual
observation. But because he knew where to look, he was able to make out
the radiant light from the numerous fires that warmed the hearths.
Should he start a fire? No, he quickly brushed the thought away. It
wasn't cold enough for that; the earth retained much of the heat from
the midday sun. He looked up into the nearly full moon above him; it
wasn't as if he needed the light either. Yes, they could do without a
fire tonight.
He lifted his now completed flute and brought it up to his lips. He
played a few halting notes to test the pitch and tone of the instrument.
After making a few moderate adjustments, he began to play. He played
the melody that his grandfather had taught him. Once it was over,
instead of stopping, he continued, improvising as he went. The melody
changed, it took on a lilting quality, and seemed to fill the night. The
song hung in the air, and seemed to softly float down to the floor of
the canyon. The chirps and screeches had paused as he began to play, but
after a moment, they started once again. It was not nature's way to
remain silent. The player altered his song and incorporated the sounds
and it all came together to form a chorus. Time slowed and spread. The
notes of music moved apart without losing tempo.
The boy closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling. This is what his
grandfather was talking about. This moment when everything came
together. He felt light, as if weightless, and relished this sensation.
His pursed lips slightly turned up into a smile as he listened to the
magic he was creating. His grandfather said the boy had a great gift and
had done his best to foster it in his grandson.
His music was halted, however, by a cry that filled the night air. The
boy's eye flew open in surprise and he turned in the direction of the
village, the direction the sound had originated. The boy looked to his
sleeping brother and placed his hand on his sibling's arm. The young boy
made a wordless mumble and tried to shrug lower into his makeshift bed.
The older brother, now impatient, woke him with much less courtesy by
yanking him to his feet.
"What-what is going on?" His voice was thick with sleep. His brother
didn't answer; instead, he began to lead the way back to the village.
They began hurriedly climbing down one of the ladders that provided
access to the cliff dwelling. Half way down, the boys paused to see what
was happening. They looked down the steeply sloping cave floor with its
rows of terraced stone and mud houses and open courts. Here and there on
the lower rooftops were shadowy figures that also had been roused from
sleep by the cry.
Following the direction of their gaze, they saw to their left and a
hundred feet below, a small campfire blazing in one of the open courts.
The flickering light played over half a dozen figures huddled around a
dark shape sprawled on the rock. Hushed voices and the occasional murmur
of concern drifted up to them on the heels of the cool night breeze.
"Come on." The older brother urged them forward. By the time they had
arrived, several minutes later, things had become more settled, but the
fear in the night air had dramatically increased.
The boys wandered around, and by hearing fragments of conversations,
began to piece together what had taken place.
A scout had returned from his mission. Only one of the six who had left
several weeks earlier. The scouts were the ones the boys had been
looking for, because they had been over due to return. The scout had
managed to slip in to the village under the cover of the night unnoticed
by the boys or the other look outs. He had made it to the outside of
his lodging before collapsing. It had been his wife who had discovered
his emaciated and scarred body and cried out, alerting everyone else.
The scout hadn't been able to speak before surrendering to
unconsciousness. Several men, under the orders of the Healer, carried
the man down into one of the circular, ceremonial chambers that were dug
below the courtyard. The Healer disappeared through the rooftop entry to
begin the healing process.
The village waited quietly; no one would be getting anymore sleep that
night. Small groups of people sat clustered together throughout, some
speaking in soft tones, others not speaking at all.
The two boys sat next to each other close enough to the entrance that
they could hear what was taking place, but yet not close enough to be
shooed away. As the smoke from the fire rose through the entrance hole,
the rhythmic beats of the drum began to lead the healing song.
* * * * * *
The sky was beginning to lighten when the drums halted. The sudden
secession of the beat stirred the people as silence filled the air.
Moments later men emerged from the hole in the earth and were met by
several anxious women.
He would survive, they said, but he hadn't awaken yet. It might be days,
it might be hours, no one could be sure when he would awaken, or even if
he had any information to provide.
And the waiting continued.
* * * * * *
The scout woke several hours later, and a meeting of the village leaders
was held. They gathered in the largest of the ceremonial chambers.
Although it was the largest, the men moved restlessly as they sat
together on the cramped built in benches. But there was no complaint;
what the scout had to say was far too important to miss.
The scout sat in the center, on the stone floor where the fire would
normally be burning, all eyes directed on him. He looked drawn and weak.
He hadn't yet recovered fully, and he shifted uncomfortably on the hard
ground.
The Chief Elder began to speak and all the men in attendance quieted
down so that he could be heard. "We need to hear what he saw." He paused
as he turned to the scout. "Please, tell us what you witnessed."
The scout hesitantly looked around to all of the eyes silently boring
into him, waiting for his response. Nervously he began to speak. "It
took us two days and nights to travel to the place of bright lights.
When we arrived we decided to split into two groups; one of us would
approach from the west, the other from the east. My group approached
from the west."
"What did you see?" Someone interrupted, impatiently.
"I saw... I don't have words to describe it...It was this..." He
struggled. He moved his arms futilely, trying to show what he had seen.
After struggling for a few more moments, inspiration struck. He began to
speak excitedly. "I know, I'll show you." He cleared of an area off the
ground immediately before him and began to use his finger to draw in the
black ashes of past fires.
The men shifted impatiently, each trying to view the diagram. It was a
large circular object with various designs on it. "This is what we saw.
There was this," he pointed to the circle, "and all around it were
bright lights, bright as the sun, but they came from inside this. And it
was very, very large. At least as big as this village. And these beings,
these beings came from it."
Murmurs of disbelieve rippled over the men. The scout looked around.
"I'm telling the truth, this is what we saw."
The Elder spoke. "Continue."
"We saw the others, the ones that have been missing...but they were
different somehow. It's hard to explain...they were there, but you they
weren't. They seemed empty...as if..."
"What?" Someone called out, impatient.
"It was as if their sprits were taken, leaving only the bodies behind.
The group that I was with was further away than the other scouting
group. Two from the other group reached those who had been missing and
tried speaking with them, but the two scouts were ignored. And
then... and then...the evil spirits came out. I couldn't see clearly
what happened next, except that we knew the two men who had approached
fell to the ground motionless. When this happened, the man who had held
back attacked. He was able to stab one of these beings with a spear,
right were the heart would have been, but it did not fall." He paused
solemnly before speaking again, voice dramatic as he met the other
men's eyes. "I do not believe it had a heart. It did not fall, but the
man did, as if he was the one struck."
The scout hesitated once more, seemingly at a loss for words. The Elder
spoke again, prompting him. He began once more. "And then the spirit,
the evil spirit, the one that had been wounded, turned and looked
directly at where we were hiding, and I saw it straight on for the first
time. It was like us, but not. It had two arms, and two legs, but the
resemblance ended there. It was small, thin of limbs, but it's head was
huge, twice that of a man's. And the eyes...so big...and they stared
right at us. They wanted our spirits as well."
The scout stopped again. When he was able to speak once more, his voice
was thick with emotion. "It knew that we where there. And I watched,
helpless. All of us were...." He trailed off ashamed. He had been unable
to do anything, to act in any way to save his comrade. He continued
slowly in a low tone. "None of us could move. And then I saw the wound."
The men nodded, encouraging him to finish his story. "I saw the wound
heal itself up. One minute there was a gapping hole in its chest, the
next it was completely gone. That is when we stared to run. After that,
I didn't see anything else."
"What about the others that were with you?"
The scout shook his head and raised his shoulders helplessly. "They were
with me in the beginning, but we became separated. I never saw them
again."
Several moments of silence passed, and the men began to speak all at
once. Voices clamored over each other, each struggled to climb to the
top to be heard.
"What do we do now?"
"What is there for us to do? We can't stop evil spirits."
"So we just sit back and let them do what they did to the others? Or
have you already forgotten?"
The man's words were harsh and full of emotion as he turned to the man
who had said this. "My son was one of those taken. How *dare* you imply
that I have forgotten--"
They were interrupted by a curt, "Stop this now." by the Elder. The
other men stopped speaking. There was silence as they waited for the man
to speak once more.
"What we will do is fight them. That is the only choice we have. We will
not let them take us quietly. We must prepare."
* * * * * *
The battle, if one could call it that, was brief but brutal.
The fighting men were quickly dispatched.
The rest of the village was taken with ease.
* * * * * *
800 years ago
* * * * * *
All men and women are born, to live, suffer and die; what distinguishes
us one from another is our dreams, whether they be dreams about worldly
or unworldly things, and what we do to make them come about... We do
not choose to be born. We do not choose our parents. We do not choose
our historical epoch, the country of our birth, or the immediate
circumstances of our upbringing. We do not, most of us, choose to die;
nor do we choose the time and conditions of our death. But within this
realm of choicelessness, we do choose how we live. -Joseph Epstein
* * * * * *
The blazing sun mercilessly beat down on to the hard baked clay of the
earth. The land seemed to absorb the white light from above, and
radiated the light back to the boy's eyes. The colors all seemed wrong.
The young boy rubbed his eyes, hoping that action would pull the colors
back to their original hue.
He opened his eyes. It was the same. The colors were much too bright.
The red-orange of the earth glowed as if lit by a fire within; the
cloudless sky too brilliant a blue. The green mass of pine and fir trees
that covered the tableland rippled in the wind. He stared in amazement
as the rest of the land followed the trees' example, and began to ripple
as well. He closed his eyes again, trying to ignore the wave of
dizziness that washed over him.
He had to get his eyes off the endless horizon and focus on something
near. He picked up the hallowed out eagle bone at his side and set to
carving what would ultimately become a flute. His grandfather had been
teaching him how to play, and it was time for him to create his own
instrument. He worked carefully, making sure that each stroke, and each
shaving was as it was supposed to be.
The boy worked in silence for several moments, occasionally looking over
the outcropping that he was stationed at, when he heard movement behind
him. He rapidly stood and whirled on his feet, which didn't do much to
calm the queasiness within him. He held his small carving knife in his
hand and tensed, ready to act.
He was met by his little brother's laughing face. "You call that a
weapon? You couldn't kill a lizard with that." He motioned disparagingly
at the small stone knife. He continued to laugh as he set his package on
the ground.
The older boy ignored the taunting and sat back on the ground, taking
his previous position. "What do you want?" He spoke gruffly, trying to
cover his embarrassment.
The other boy sat down next to him. "Mother sent me to get you. She said
that you'll get sun sickness if you stay out here much longer."
"I can't leave. I have a very important job to do, one that I must take
very seriously."
His younger brother snorted. "Important? Ha! The only reason they told
you to do this was because you were getting in the way of the *men*." He
stressed the last word pointedly.
As predicted, his inflection got the expected response from his older
brother. "I *am* a man, and this is a man's job."
"Maybe in a few seasons. Anyway, if you were a real man... why is he,"
the younger boy pointed to the east of them, at another lookout, "why is
he looking in the same area you are?"
"I'm making sure that he is doing his job." The younger boy just looked
at him a moment longer before a smile cracked his face and a stream of
giggles poured out.
The elder looked distastefully at the giggling boy next to him. "You
laugh too much."
"And you don't laugh enough. I like to laugh, it makes me feel alive."
His brother didn't respond to his comment, so he continued. "So you
aren't coming back with me?"
"No, I have my job to do."
The younger boy smiled at this news, unsurprised. "That's what mother
figured you would say, that's why she had me take this." He twisted his
torso and reached for the package he had set on the ground behind them.
He pulled out a container filled with water and handed it over. The
older boy eagerly took it from his grasp and gratefully drank the
liquid.
As he drank, his younger brother set into motion. He pulled out a woven
blanket. "If we are going to stay out here," he tossed one end of the
blanket out, unfolding it, "we need to get out of the sun."
He pulled the refreshing liquid away from his lips. "We? I don't need
you out here with me."
"Sure you do. Who else will get you more water when you need it? Come
on, help me with this." He stood up and pulled on his older brother's
hand.
The older boy sighed, hiding his smile. With a great show of reluctance
he stood and helped his grinning brother.
* * * * * *
The sweet smell of pine filled the air as night set in, brought by the
night breeze that ruffled the needles on nearby trees that covered the
hills that led to the canyon below. Looking out past the cliff and to
the broad rolling forest below, the older boy could see the trees shift
in the silver touch of moonlight.
He looked down at his younger sibling, sleeping peacefully next to him.
The young boy had kept his word and had restocked both their water and
food supply so that the older boy could remain at his post. He'd done
well, never complaining, even as his older brother sent him on even more
useless and mundane tasks as the day progressed. Now exhausted, the boy
slept upon one of the woven mats he had been sent to get on one of his
many missions.
The boy glanced in the direction of his home. He couldn't see it of
course, the way that it was tucked into the sandstone cliff both
protected it from the elements, as well as hid it from casual
observation. But because he knew where to look, he was able to make out
the radiant light from the numerous fires that warmed the hearths.
Should he start a fire? No, he quickly brushed the thought away. It
wasn't cold enough for that; the earth retained much of the heat from
the midday sun. He looked up into the nearly full moon above him; it
wasn't as if he needed the light either. Yes, they could do without a
fire tonight.
He lifted his now completed flute and brought it up to his lips. He
played a few halting notes to test the pitch and tone of the instrument.
After making a few moderate adjustments, he began to play. He played
the melody that his grandfather had taught him. Once it was over,
instead of stopping, he continued, improvising as he went. The melody
changed, it took on a lilting quality, and seemed to fill the night. The
song hung in the air, and seemed to softly float down to the floor of
the canyon. The chirps and screeches had paused as he began to play, but
after a moment, they started once again. It was not nature's way to
remain silent. The player altered his song and incorporated the sounds
and it all came together to form a chorus. Time slowed and spread. The
notes of music moved apart without losing tempo.
The boy closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling. This is what his
grandfather was talking about. This moment when everything came
together. He felt light, as if weightless, and relished this sensation.
His pursed lips slightly turned up into a smile as he listened to the
magic he was creating. His grandfather said the boy had a great gift and
had done his best to foster it in his grandson.
His music was halted, however, by a cry that filled the night air. The
boy's eye flew open in surprise and he turned in the direction of the
village, the direction the sound had originated. The boy looked to his
sleeping brother and placed his hand on his sibling's arm. The young boy
made a wordless mumble and tried to shrug lower into his makeshift bed.
The older brother, now impatient, woke him with much less courtesy by
yanking him to his feet.
"What-what is going on?" His voice was thick with sleep. His brother
didn't answer; instead, he began to lead the way back to the village.
They began hurriedly climbing down one of the ladders that provided
access to the cliff dwelling. Half way down, the boys paused to see what
was happening. They looked down the steeply sloping cave floor with its
rows of terraced stone and mud houses and open courts. Here and there on
the lower rooftops were shadowy figures that also had been roused from
sleep by the cry.
Following the direction of their gaze, they saw to their left and a
hundred feet below, a small campfire blazing in one of the open courts.
The flickering light played over half a dozen figures huddled around a
dark shape sprawled on the rock. Hushed voices and the occasional murmur
of concern drifted up to them on the heels of the cool night breeze.
"Come on." The older brother urged them forward. By the time they had
arrived, several minutes later, things had become more settled, but the
fear in the night air had dramatically increased.
The boys wandered around, and by hearing fragments of conversations,
began to piece together what had taken place.
A scout had returned from his mission. Only one of the six who had left
several weeks earlier. The scouts were the ones the boys had been
looking for, because they had been over due to return. The scout had
managed to slip in to the village under the cover of the night unnoticed
by the boys or the other look outs. He had made it to the outside of
his lodging before collapsing. It had been his wife who had discovered
his emaciated and scarred body and cried out, alerting everyone else.
The scout hadn't been able to speak before surrendering to
unconsciousness. Several men, under the orders of the Healer, carried
the man down into one of the circular, ceremonial chambers that were dug
below the courtyard. The Healer disappeared through the rooftop entry to
begin the healing process.
The village waited quietly; no one would be getting anymore sleep that
night. Small groups of people sat clustered together throughout, some
speaking in soft tones, others not speaking at all.
The two boys sat next to each other close enough to the entrance that
they could hear what was taking place, but yet not close enough to be
shooed away. As the smoke from the fire rose through the entrance hole,
the rhythmic beats of the drum began to lead the healing song.
* * * * * *
The sky was beginning to lighten when the drums halted. The sudden
secession of the beat stirred the people as silence filled the air.
Moments later men emerged from the hole in the earth and were met by
several anxious women.
He would survive, they said, but he hadn't awaken yet. It might be days,
it might be hours, no one could be sure when he would awaken, or even if
he had any information to provide.
And the waiting continued.
* * * * * *
The scout woke several hours later, and a meeting of the village leaders
was held. They gathered in the largest of the ceremonial chambers.
Although it was the largest, the men moved restlessly as they sat
together on the cramped built in benches. But there was no complaint;
what the scout had to say was far too important to miss.
The scout sat in the center, on the stone floor where the fire would
normally be burning, all eyes directed on him. He looked drawn and weak.
He hadn't yet recovered fully, and he shifted uncomfortably on the hard
ground.
The Chief Elder began to speak and all the men in attendance quieted
down so that he could be heard. "We need to hear what he saw." He paused
as he turned to the scout. "Please, tell us what you witnessed."
The scout hesitantly looked around to all of the eyes silently boring
into him, waiting for his response. Nervously he began to speak. "It
took us two days and nights to travel to the place of bright lights.
When we arrived we decided to split into two groups; one of us would
approach from the west, the other from the east. My group approached
from the west."
"What did you see?" Someone interrupted, impatiently.
"I saw... I don't have words to describe it...It was this..." He
struggled. He moved his arms futilely, trying to show what he had seen.
After struggling for a few more moments, inspiration struck. He began to
speak excitedly. "I know, I'll show you." He cleared of an area off the
ground immediately before him and began to use his finger to draw in the
black ashes of past fires.
The men shifted impatiently, each trying to view the diagram. It was a
large circular object with various designs on it. "This is what we saw.
There was this," he pointed to the circle, "and all around it were
bright lights, bright as the sun, but they came from inside this. And it
was very, very large. At least as big as this village. And these beings,
these beings came from it."
Murmurs of disbelieve rippled over the men. The scout looked around.
"I'm telling the truth, this is what we saw."
The Elder spoke. "Continue."
"We saw the others, the ones that have been missing...but they were
different somehow. It's hard to explain...they were there, but you they
weren't. They seemed empty...as if..."
"What?" Someone called out, impatient.
"It was as if their sprits were taken, leaving only the bodies behind.
The group that I was with was further away than the other scouting
group. Two from the other group reached those who had been missing and
tried speaking with them, but the two scouts were ignored. And
then... and then...the evil spirits came out. I couldn't see clearly
what happened next, except that we knew the two men who had approached
fell to the ground motionless. When this happened, the man who had held
back attacked. He was able to stab one of these beings with a spear,
right were the heart would have been, but it did not fall." He paused
solemnly before speaking again, voice dramatic as he met the other
men's eyes. "I do not believe it had a heart. It did not fall, but the
man did, as if he was the one struck."
The scout hesitated once more, seemingly at a loss for words. The Elder
spoke again, prompting him. He began once more. "And then the spirit,
the evil spirit, the one that had been wounded, turned and looked
directly at where we were hiding, and I saw it straight on for the first
time. It was like us, but not. It had two arms, and two legs, but the
resemblance ended there. It was small, thin of limbs, but it's head was
huge, twice that of a man's. And the eyes...so big...and they stared
right at us. They wanted our spirits as well."
The scout stopped again. When he was able to speak once more, his voice
was thick with emotion. "It knew that we where there. And I watched,
helpless. All of us were...." He trailed off ashamed. He had been unable
to do anything, to act in any way to save his comrade. He continued
slowly in a low tone. "None of us could move. And then I saw the wound."
The men nodded, encouraging him to finish his story. "I saw the wound
heal itself up. One minute there was a gapping hole in its chest, the
next it was completely gone. That is when we stared to run. After that,
I didn't see anything else."
"What about the others that were with you?"
The scout shook his head and raised his shoulders helplessly. "They were
with me in the beginning, but we became separated. I never saw them
again."
Several moments of silence passed, and the men began to speak all at
once. Voices clamored over each other, each struggled to climb to the
top to be heard.
"What do we do now?"
"What is there for us to do? We can't stop evil spirits."
"So we just sit back and let them do what they did to the others? Or
have you already forgotten?"
The man's words were harsh and full of emotion as he turned to the man
who had said this. "My son was one of those taken. How *dare* you imply
that I have forgotten--"
They were interrupted by a curt, "Stop this now." by the Elder. The
other men stopped speaking. There was silence as they waited for the man
to speak once more.
"What we will do is fight them. That is the only choice we have. We will
not let them take us quietly. We must prepare."
* * * * * *
The battle, if one could call it that, was brief but brutal.
The fighting men were quickly dispatched.
The rest of the village was taken with ease.
* * * * * *