Chapter 3: First Steps
The dawn broke clear and crisp the next morning. After donning his clothing and taking care of any other necessities he wandered outside of their simple dwelling. It was a two-bedroom structure with a high steeple roof to shed the winter's snow. The walls were surrounded by an earth berm which helped insulate the interior. Encompassing the yard and house was a sturdy palisade meant to dissuade any curious scavengers. Those that weren't smart enough to take the hint were introduced to Myler's long rifle and found themselves contributing to the larder.
Their home was situated above the valley floor. Its location putting them out of the migratory paths of the herds of Striders, Broadheads, Chargers, and their accompanying predators. Despite its isolation, their home offered a stunning view of the sunrise. It spread out across the length of the valley bathing the forests and plains in a sheet of golden light.
While Myler worked inside to prepare for the coming day, Jarek set about completing his chores in record time. First, he fetched water from the well and fed their small flock of Kunna, a squat half meter tall, two-legged critter, which provided most of their protein. Next, he checked the hydroponics garden making sure the machinery was still running and maintaining their vegetable and fruit-bearing plants. The plants weren't ready to be picked but he always made sure. Jarek had learned early that a balanced diet was the difference between growing strong and growing weak.
Once he was finished, he sat and waited patiently, or as patiently as a seven-cycle old could; tapping his foot eagerly and wondering what lesson Myler would teach him. Would it be combat or survival? He also wondered about his armor. About how he would craft it one day, and how it would look. Most Mandalorians decorated and camouflaged their armor based on their personality, lineage, or chosen profession. Myler being a hunter preferred a practical design. In the few instances, Jarek had glimpsed the clan warriors, mostly from afar, he had seen many variants in colors and designs. Very literally no two Mandalorians were alike.
At that point Myler exited the house, interrupting his thoughts. He was in full armor, helmet clipped to his belt, rifle slung across his back, pistol holstered on his hip. In addition to his normal gear, he carried a wrapped bundle under one arm. Jarek stood, barely keeping his excitement in check.
"We're headed down into the valley. Follow," he ordered and headed for the palisade's only gate. Jarek followed close behind. They traveled for several minutes. The sun had fully cleared the horizon before they stopped in a small clearing.
Myler unrolled the bundle revealing a small blaster carbine. Jarek recognized it as the one Myler had taught him how to shoot with. The other two objects were new to him. One was a foot-long sword with one curved blade and a short diamond-shaped cross guard. The other was a palm length knife with a similarly diamond-shaped doubled-edged blade.
"Take your rifle," Myler stated and Jarek obliged, making sure the barrel was pointed in a safe direction while simultaneously checking the weapon was loaded with a full charge. It was. Then he looked back at the edged weapons and noticed Myler carried similar types on his person.
Myler gripped the short sword in his free hand. "This is called a Beskad." He hefted and twisted it giving Jarek a good look at the blade, hilt, and pommel. "In the old days, this was a warrior's primary weapon. They had to get in close to take care of their foe. Now many don't use them and keep them more as decoration." He gave his son a hard look. "This is not a decoration, nor is it a toy." Jarek nodded in understanding. "This blade is a hunter's tool in the bush. Clearing trees and taking down prey." He gave it a quick swipe and took a sizable chunk from the end of a wooden log.
Jarek gulped at the lethality but maintained his bearing.
Sliding the weapon into a scabbard he helped sling it across Jarek's back. Next, he held up the small knife. "This is a kal. A fighting knife." He flipped it end over end in his hand in an elaborate show of dexterity and skill that surprised and impressed the young boy. "It is your tool in all things. Preparing game, bushcraft, to settling disputes with the neighbors." Myler started to hand it to him but pulled it back at the last second. At Jarek's confused expression he asked, "What is this first and foremost?"
"A tool, not a toy," Jarek answered and Myler handed him the sheathed blade which Jarek promptly attached to his belt. He gave his son a profoundly serious look and made sure his tone emphasized the seriousness of his words. "The wilds can be a dangerous place. More so the further you get from civilized areas."
"I know," Jarek agreed knowing full well the dangers.
"You're still scratched up and sore from that fall yesterday, yes?" Myler asked and Jarek nodded reluctantly. "Let's start the lesson there." He indicated a plant with a brown stem, heart-shaped leaves, and deep red berries. "That is called salve brush, it alleviates pain and fever when eaten and soothes sore muscles when applied to the skin." He pointed up toward the sky. "Beyond our world, many sentients use the modern bacta, or kolto to heal wounds. These are common but there will be times when you won't have those luxuries." He gestured to the plant once more.
Jarek, already familiar with the plant plucked the berries. The first batch he crushed into an oily pulp before rubbing the paste on his arm and thigh where it still hurt from his tumble. Next, he took a few berries and ate them. They were bitter with a dry aftertaste, but he swallowed them regardless.
"It may taste bad but plants like those and alien variants could save your life." Jarek nodded trying not to grimace at the taste. He took the water canister Myler offered. One swig was enough to clear his palette. "Wherever you go you should learn what is useful and what isn't; plants, beasts, or otherwise."
Without another word, Myler turned and walked into the brush placing his helmet on his head. Jarek followed close behind. The trek took them further and further from their home and down into the valley proper, but not toward the main settlement of Kart'a'Buir. This was an area Jarek wasn't familiar with.
"Where are we father?" he asked softly conscious of the distant sounds of wildlife.
"This part of the valley is known as the Embrace," he answered just as quietly, "The Orion Clan hunt here and allow few others. The Outcasts are the rare exception by order of the Clan Chief."
This puzzled Jarek, who only ever experienced scorn from the clansmen. "Why?" he asked curiously, "If we are Dar'Manda why let us hunt their land?"
"Because we help keep the more dangerous beasts away from the village," Myler replied without emotion, "The Chief also believed it dishonorable to allow Outcast children to be deprived of food."
This further confused Jarek. This act of concern for his, as well as other Outcast children's wellbeing, was a direct contradiction to the Mandalorian belief that only the strong survived. Then that thought also contradicted the idea that family, clan, and children were the most important things a Mandalorian could have.
Do not deal in absolutes...his mind whispered to him.
"Further downriver we'll find a herd of striders," Myler's words broke his reverie and he had to hurry to catch up as the larger man trotted down a trail. "I will teach you how to hunt them."
A surge of excitement shot through Jarek, along with a bit of apprehension. "Are they dangerous?" he couldn't help but ask. Jarek had always been too young for Myler to take him on a hunt. Now he had his chance to learn.
"All beasts can be dangerous," Myler answered gravely, and Jarek thought he was also applying the statement to people as well. "You must learn to anticipate this," he went on, "and respect their power." He looked down at him, "But I will be beside you." Though he couldn't see his gaze Jarek felt its reassurance.
After a bit more hiking Myler suddenly held up a hand and they both came to a stop. Jarek listened but neither heard nor saw anything.
"Drop," Myler hissed and pulled Jarek down to a crouch. "Stay quiet," he ordered in an incredibly low tone, "and follow me to the tall grass." Without looking back at him, Myler slipped into a patch of tall red stalks. Jarek followed right after making sure to keep his father within eyesight. After a moment, Myler pointed ahead of them on the trail. "There you see?"
Several yards away, Jarek spotted four gray-skinned reptilian creatures trotting on four clawed feet. A series of quills sprouted out of the skin in starting at the base of their skull and ending at their shoulders. Deep red eyes sat above long bird-like snouts. Within the maw were two rows of very sharp looking teeth. Despite their predatory aspect the creatures
were barely five feet in length and their shoulder was just a bit taller than Jarek.
"It's a little one," Jarek stated, but immediately regretted it. Myler's earlier words about respecting all beast's power and their potential to become violent rang in his skull.
"Those are kroot hounds," Myler stated flatly giving him a chastising glare, "They're fast and deadly in a pack. A skilled hunter could kill them, but a smart hunter doesn't take the risk." He held his son's gaze a moment longer driving the lesson home. "We'll have to sneak around them," he said with a brief gesture, "Follow."
For several long minutes that felt like hours, they crept through the grass, making sure to keep as much distance between them and the nearest hound. Several times a Hound would raise its head and sniff the air causing them to stop. Myler would rest a hand on the handle of his pistol, but then the beast would continue down the path.
Once Myler was sure they were far enough out of sound and scent range, they broke from cover and continued on their way. Jarek released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Myler took a moment to show him some moss that they could wipe on their clothes to help conceal their scent. He admitted to washing their clothes in it regularly.
The path wound steadily down into the valley far north of the settlement. They were nearing a stream crossing when Jarek noticed movement in the distance. Looking carefully, he spotted a figure running and jumping along a narrow cliff face. Even from far away, it was easy to see he wore armor like his father. The weight didn't seem to hamper his progress. He stepped from rocky outcropping to rocky outcropping with such ease and dexterity that he appeared to defy gravity.
Jarek pointed at the figure. "Look, father, a hunter."
Myler stopped and looked around. Jarek heard him grumble something that sounded like di'kut'la, a really stupid fool. He turned and began walking again. "Ignore him, boy. If he wants to risk his neck that's his own foolishness."
About that time the young hunter stopped. Clinging precariously to a ledge he looked directly at them. To Jarek's surprise, the young Mandalorian hung by a single hand and waved before carrying on his course.
Excited, Jarek pointed this out. "Buir, he waved at us!"
Myler paused to look back just in time to see the hunter disappear over the ledge into the foliage. "I said ignore him, Jarek," he stated before trudging on, "He is of the Clan. He would do well to ignore us."
Jarek caught up with him. "Maybe he doesn't like the Clan?" he suggested. The idea that there might be those within the clan who would have anything to do with Outcasts filled him with unexpected hope. The reaction of the young girl back in the berry patch gave the feeling merit.
Myler growled, deep in his thoughts before saying, "Then he is a fool." Though his tone was low there was no mistaking the hard edge to his words.
Not for the first time, Jarek wondered why his father had been exiled from the clan. He carried himself like the ideal Mandalorian. Jarek could be biased but of the various Outcasts he'd met over the years, some were angry bordering on savage, while others were depressing and just struggling to make do. Very few still adhered to the Resol'Nar, the Six Actions; Wearing beskar'gam, Speak Mando'a, defending oneself and family, raising one's children as Mandalorians, contributing to the clan's welfare, and when called upon to rally to Mand'alor's call.
Hardly any Outcasts even still wore their armor.
Myler had always been a skilled hunter and a powerful warrior, and he'd always carried himself with dignity and pride despite his status as an Outcast. He'd raised Jarek as best a single parent could, teaching him what it meant to be Mandalorian even if he'd never be a part of the clan. He'd made vindications about his willingness to assist the clan where he could, and if the call to arms ever arrived, he'd jump at the chance.
There were rare occasions when his emotions would slip through and the tortured soul within would appear. Here was a man who defined himself by his culture and yet he was forced to live apart from it. It angered Myler that anyone would ever be so foolish to willingly separate themselves from Clan and family.
Myler had made it abundantly clear on more than one occasion that his only desire outside of taking care of Jarek was to see his son one day join the clan and be a part of a larger family. For Jarek, it would be the first time he'd be accepted by anyone other than Myler and other Outcasts. After receiving the scorn from the mother, he wasn't sure if he would ever accept them. Much less be accepted.
As they approached the stream crossing, Jarek was almost shocked to see a herd of striders milling about grazing and drinking. Like the hounds, they were reptilian quadrupeds with grey skin, beak-like snouts, red eyes, and quills down the neck to the shoulders. These were taller and broader with thick legs. Even at a glance, Jarek found it all too easy to respect their power.
Just then Myler stood tall, swung his Beskad in the air, and yelled, "HAH! Get!" The dozen or so striders looked up in alarm before turning and galloping off. A pair of them seemed to lag, one with a slight hitch in its step. Soon they were all out of sight.
Confused Jarek nudged his father's hip to get his attention. "Why'd you scare them off?"
Myler looked down at him and shrugged, "To show you that many herd beasts can be easily startled. Plus, I wasn't expecting to come across them so soon. It's always better to hunt your prey with stealth." Jarek nodded seeing his point but still couldn't help but feel annoyed. He was eager to hunt.
Sensing his anxiousness, Myler knelt to his level and pointed after the herd. "Tell me ad'ika, did you notice anything about the herd. Anything that stood out?"
Jarek thought and recalled the last two striders he'd seen trailing the herd. "Yes, one of them had been injured and was slow to catch up to the rest. And another wouldn't leave it behind."
Myler nodded, "Good. Well done." Jarek beamed with pride as Myler continued, "Predators will often pick off the injured or sickly members of a herd. This helps the herd to stay strong and weed out the weak. But like Chargers, and Broadheads a Strider's mate will always stay by its side till its death. They are a stubborn lot." He stood and they trotted after the herd. "A trait to be admired I think," he added in an undertone.
Their pursuit took them further and further north until the valley opened up revealing stretches of grasslands interspersed with clumps of trees. Streams and rivers cut through the green sheet like blue ribbons. The herd of striders grazed nearby. To Jarek's astonishment, he also saw herds of broadheads, grazers, chargers, and many more species. He was sure packs of hounds were about, but they were clever to keep to the shadows. Jarek even spied a trio of Tallnecks in the distance. Large flat snouts turned this way and that keeping an eye out for sustenance and predators. One of the largest plant-eaters, there was only one other creature who actively hunted them.
The Greater Knarloc. Jarek had only ever heard stories about them. Large bipedal carnivores with massive jaws and long thick tails, but no forelimbs to speak of. Only the most skilled and craziest hunters ever pursued them.
Myler came to a halt and knelt in the tall grass several yards from the nearest strider. Jarek followed suit. They both unslung their rifles and slowly approached their prey. They crept up on its blind side just behinds its left shoulder. Only a few yards aware, Myler held up a hand and signaled for him to wait, he did. The older warrior slung his rifle and drew his beskad. His father inched closer and closer to the Strider. As he drew near, Jarek noticed that it was the wounded one from earlier. Just like other predators did they were fulfilling their role by culling the weak from the herd.
Just mere feet away, Myler sprung forward and stabbed in a single ergonomic motion. The point of the blade went up under the left foreleg straight into the body cavity of the strider. The Strider only had time to make a shuddering groan, its heart and lungs punctured, before sinking to the ground.
Before Jarek could process what had taken place, Myler ripped the blade free, stood atop his kill, and bellowed. It was a deep resonating roar, that Jarek felt in his soul. It was the primal sound of a predator claiming its kill.
The strider's mate stamped its feet nearby and tossed its head angrily. Myler stood his ground, hand on the grip of his pistol. The mate spun in agitated circles before running off to rejoin the rest of the retreating herd. A pack of hounds also took notice but followed the herd rather than attack.
Myler stepped down from atop his kill, his chest heaving as he came down from his adrenaline high. He gestured and Jarek approached, eyes wide in wonder. Myler cleaned the blood from the beskad and sheathed it. "A hunter must always claim his kill, lest others try and take advantage. He must also strike hard and fast and make the kill clean. No beast or man should be made to suffer." He stared down at Jarek, his words steady and firm. "That is what separates us; Hunters from savages."
Once Jarek nodded in understanding, they set about processing the game. Myler had thought to bring a large knapsack and after skinning the beast he set about carving strips and chunks of the strider's dense muscle using his kal. He walked Jarek through the whole process from checking to make sure the meat wasn't diseased, to properly carving it, and removing harmful organs like the digestive and waste systems. In less than an hour, the knapsack was full, and the carcass thoroughly butchered.
"The scavengers and the land will appreciate the offering," Myler stated as he cleaned the kal and sheathed it. He slung the sack over his shoulders, "Come let us-"
"Help!" The cry stopped them both cold. They listened for a moment before hearing it again carried on the wind. "Help me!"
"Someone's in trouble!" Jarek exclaimed his heart hammering in his chest.
"Follow!" Myler ordered and took off in the direction of the scream, Jarek right on his heels. Despite the extra one hundred pounds of raw meat on his shoulders, Myler moved with incredible speed. It was all Jarek could do to keep up.
"Help! Please!" the voice cried out again. It was close. They had retraced the trail back up into the Embrace before splitting off the main route. They ended up crouching on a ridge that overlooked a wide gully. Across the gully clinging to the rock face several hundred feet above the ground was the young hunter they'd seen earlier.
"Di'kut'la," Myler mumbled but his head twisted from side to side looking for a way to lend him aid. Unfortunately, they weren't alone. Loitering about the gully below was another herd of striders, smaller than the one before. They were accompanied by a pack of Kroot Hounds, possibly the same ones they'd avoided earlier. The striders were oblivious to the hunter's cries, but the hounds seemed to be drawn to it. They cast about the edges of the gully unsure as to its origin.
The Hunter also seemed to realize what his calls had done and focused more on hanging on for dear life. Reaching above his head he attempted to lever himself up over the ledge, but the rock gave way causing him to swing by his one remaining hand. Just as his finger curled around a handhold. Jarek was about to ask his father what they should do, but before he could say anything the hunter's grip failed.