"Storm Crow on the Horizon"
Prequal – "The Falls Tribe"
by Skandranon
Genre – The Tribe
Warnings – AU, possibly some violence later on. It's only one teensy tiny change, really, just one character alive when they're supposed to be dead. That's not so bad, right?
"And I would walk 500 miles
And I would walk 500 more
Just to be the man who walked a thousand miles
To fall down at your door" - "500 Miles", TheProclaimers
The Falls were two hydroelectric generators that, during a more civilized era, had been called the Maraetai Dam, on the Waikato River, in the northern island of New Zealand. But that era had come and gone, and now it was simply The Falls.
At the height of the previous civilization, the dam had generated 855 GWh of power every year. Now it only produced a fraction of that, but it was more than enough for the inhabitants. All they really needed was a source of energy for light, heating, cooling, and maybe to play some CDs every now and then.
There were 148 of them in all, and they were the Falls Tribe. This was their home. They had fought for it, bled for it, and by Gaia and the legacy of Zoot, they were going to keep it.
The 148th member spent his sunrises on the bank of the artificial lake, leaning against a log and staring out across the water, fingering the pendant he kept hidden under his shirt. He'd carved it himself. It was crude and a little chipped on the edges, but it'd come out the right shape. That was what mattered.
Every morning, a girl would come fetch him for breakfast. "Come eat," she'd say. And at first he came without hesitation. But as the days wore on, he paused a little longer each time, eyes pinned to the water, and to the land beyond it. She'd wait for him to turn, for the few seconds it took him, and later, the few minutes. She'd wait until she thought he'd never turn, and then he would. He'd smile ruefully and follow her to breakfast, and they'd keep their silent agreement to not speak of it.
Many of the tribe had come from other places, other tribes. They'd lost loved ones and friends along the way. It wasn't unusual for them to succumb to occasional nostalgia. But this was their home now, and eventually they'd snap themselves out of it and go about their lives.
But this tribe member didn't. The past wore on him. It chafed around the edges. Instead of the moody, regretful quiet that usually came with such memories, his carried a tense edge, a sharp bite. There were things he'd left undone, she knew. Things he couldn't ignore.
It didn't surprise her when the morning came that he didn't turn around. There was something about the muscles in his back that spoke of finality. And she knew with a certainty beyond her years, that he'd be gone by the next morning, and she would never see him again.
"You can take my horse," she blurted out. "I'll pack food and clothes and everything you need."
He nodded.
"Where will you go?"
He turned then, but his eyes weren't looking at her. "I have a child out there somewhere, and its mother. They may still be alive. I'll look for them."
"I hope you find them."
That was all that could be said, really.
He took off his pendant and pressed it into her hand. "Something to remember me by." The rough edges of the wooden pentacle dug into her palm, but she clutched it fervently.
And he walked away. It was a movement that seemed natural to him.
"Good luck Bray," she whispered to the lake.
Author's Notes – all info on the dam is accurate. Except for the part where society collapses and the dam is taken over by a bunch of teenagers. That part I made up.
