Chapter 5

Summer 1988

The smooth stone sailed from Sethrael's sling and struck the back of the rabbit's head.

"I did it, Daka!" he said excitedly. "I killed my first rabbit!"

"It is not dead, Seth. Only stunned," Mithrael said, kneeling beside the rabbit. "You must finish the task quickly so that he will not suffer."

Sethrael took a knife from his belt, knelt beside the rabbit, and slit its throat. "Thank you, little brother, for the food and fur you will provide for my people. Go, now! Be free and happy in the Summerland."

Mithrael smiled and nodded his approval. "You did well, my son. I am proud of you."

Sethrael grinned at his father. "Metha will be proud, too. She will know I am a hunter now, Daka. "

His father laughed. "Yes, she will." He dipped his forefinger in the animal's blood and made a triangular sign on his son's forehead. "But do not expect her to stop treating you like her little chick. She likes to keep you under her wing."

"Metha must understand that I am a man, now," he said with quiet conviction. "I will make her a pair of fine mittens from the skin to keep her hands warm when she travels to the Human Realm. Then she will remember that I have made my first kill, and you have given me the mark of a hunter. She will see me sit with the other hunters at the fire and hear their stories. She will hear me tell my own stories to the people."

"Yes, you have earned that right. However, you must remember that you are the youngest among all hunters. All the others have lived more than 12 full seasons, and you have lived only 8. You must show them the proper respect and wait to be called upon to speak. And when you speak, Sethrael, do not boast."

"I will not boast, Daka," he said solemnly. "I will be very humble."

With some difficultly, Mithrael kept the smile from his lips, but still it sparkled in his eyes. His son was not vain or boastful, but when recalling an adventure, his excitement often led to fanciful exaggerations. Mithrael believed that the boy's godfather, Sirius Black, was responsible for this, for his stories were told much the same way.

Sethrael picked the rabbit up by its hind legs and walked beside his father, who was carrying two others. It was time to go home.

"Be patient with your Methara, Seth."

"I will, Daka."

That evening, when he bathed with the other men at the river, Sethrael was careful not to wash the triangle of dried blood from his forehead. Tonight he would be celebrated as a hunter, and Mithrael had told him to wait until after the ceremony to wash it off.

Sethrael didn't want to wash it off, even after the ceremony. He wondered how long it would stay if he didn't wash anything above his neck for the next few days or weeks or months.

His Dakara had heard his thoughts. "It will come off tonight while you are sleeping, Seth," he said. "The warmth of the furs will make your face damp, and it will be rubbed off on the skins. But your Methara will not allow you to lie in your furs until you have washed your face," he added with a grin.

Sethrael sighed. "Women!" he thought, rolling his eyes, then quickly looked at his Dakara whose eyebrow was raised in warning. He immediately let his thoughts drift to other subjects. Had he shown such disrespect for his Methara by saying that out loud, his Dakara would have been angry. He finished bathing, and then got dressed hurriedly so he could get to supper and start the celebration as soon as possible.

When he entered the cove with Mithrael, he found his godfathers waiting for him. He rushed into Remus's arms. "Uncle Remus! How did you get here?"

"Your mother brought us," he said. "Congratulations, Harry. I hear that there's something special to celebrate tonight."

Laughing, Harry moved into Sirius's arms and gave him a hug. "I am a hunter now," he said. "I killed a rabbit for supper!"

"Wow!" said Sirius. "How did you do it?"

"I will get to tell the story to everyone later," he said. "You must wait for it."

Sirius grinned and looked at Mithrael pointedly. The elf shook his head, smiling. He knew that Harry's story would be greatly exaggerated before the people tonight, and Sirius knew it, too. His suspicions had been proven. Sirius was the rascal who had taught his son the art of storytelling.

"Which one is mine?" Harry asked his mother as he examined the roasting rabbits, which were on spits over the fire.

"Sethrael!" she whispered in embarrassment. "The rabbits belong to everyone. You hunt for the people, not for recognition. Do not shame your Dakara tonight by being boastful."

Sethrael hung his head. "I am sorry, Metha," he said. "I did not mean to boast. I was just excited about my first hunt."

She wrapped her arms around him. "I know, my son. I know." Then she pointed to one of the rabbits on the spit. "That is the one you caught. The skin is drying separately from the others so that you can have it when it is ready."

"Thank you, Metha. I have something special I want to do with it. I want to make a present for you."

His mother smiled and hugged him once more, then turned her attention back to the meal. Sethrael went to sit with his father and Uncle Remus.

Sirius had transformed into Padfoot and was playing with the other children. Three of the smaller ones were on his back, riding him, as he slowly pranced around the cove. Sethrael watched enviously, wishing that he could join them. But he was a man now and would have to sit with the other hunters to wait for supper.

His Dakara put an arm around his shoulders and leaned toward him. "It is all right for you to join them," he said. "Even hunters must spend time with their friends. It will not make you any less a man to play games with them."

He looked up at Mithrael for reassurance, and when his Dakara smiled and nodded, he jumped up and ran to join the others.

"It seems as if it were only yesterday when I brought him to this realm," Mithrael said softly.

"I know," Remus agreed. "He's still awfully young to be a hunter. The other boys look much older."

"They are. Most do not become hunters until they have reached 12. Only two have ever made it before that, and the youngest was 10. He is the youngest to ever be made a hunter."

"He's always done things early, hasn't he?" Remus asked.

Mithrael nodded. "Before Seth, I had noticed that Elven children advanced faster than humans, but I believed it was because elves had more responsibilities at a younger age. Seth, however, has done everything before of his peers. He is the first to understand a lesson. He was reading by the time he reached 4. He knew the name of every kind of tree and plant in the forest. He knew which were poison and the healing properties of the others. At age 2, the unicorns would come to him and allow him to ride whenever he desired. By age 5, he was flying on backs of hippogriffs. Elsbeth was beside herself, afraid he would be injured."

"It still frightens me when he scampers up a tree like he belongs there," Remus said. "He goes to the highest branch that will hold his weight, then sit there all day, talking to the birds. I once asked him what he was talking to them about, and he told me he was asking them to teach him how to fly."

"Have you heard him talk to snakes?" Mithrael asked.

Remus shook his head.

"He speaks to them in their own language and understands theirs."

Remus paled. "Harry's a parselmouth?"

Mithrael nodded. "That is unheard of in our world. We can feel the emotions of animals and can hear the magical ones speak in our heads, but no elf has ever spoken the language of snakes."

"Few wizards have that ability, also. Slytherin and Voldemort spoke parseltongue. It has been said that Slytherin's children were able to do it, also, but I don't know that for sure."

"Wizards believe it to be an evil gift, do they not?"

"Well, yes, but only because it is rare; and the ones who have had the ability were men who were evil. I don't think that the actual ability is a sign of an evil wizard, but many wizards and witches do. It may be something he wants to keep hidden."

Mithrael looked at Remus and smiled. "Sethrael will cause them to change their minds about this gift. He is not one to keep his abilities a secret."

Remus chuckled. "No, he isn't."

After supper, the fires were lit in the cove and the men sat down in a circle. Sethrael sat beside his father. The women and children formed an outer circle around the men. Even the queen joined the outer circle, for this was a night for the hunters.

When everyone was seated, Mithrael stood and walked to the middle of the circle. "Today is a good day," he said. "My son has become a man. He made his first kill and brought food and skins for our people. I have marked him with the sign of the hunter. Sethrael, my son, stand inside the circle."

Sethrael stood up and walked to his father. His father reached behind him and took the bow from his back. "This is the bow I made on the first day I brought you to our realm. I made it in preparation for this day. And now I am proud to give it to you, my son." He gave Seth the bow, then sat down to join the other men.

"Thank you, Dakara," Sethrael said, overwhelmed with emotion.

"My son," Elsbeth said, entering the circle carrying a quiver. "This is the quiver I made for you when you became my son. I worked on it for many days. Your Dakara brought me precious stones the color of your eyes, which I placed on the quiver for you. Use it well, my son. I am proud of you." She gave Seth the quiver, and then went to join the other women.

Elder Kasha stood and walked into the circle. "You have learned your lessons well, Sethrael son of Mithrael. I have watched you grow and become a man. Use the bow responsibly and wear the quiver with pride." He took the quiver from Seth's hands and strapped it to his back, then took an arrow from his own quiver and placed it in Sethrael's. "I am proud to give you this arrow."

When Elder Kasha had joined the other men, each hunter stood and placed one of their own arrows in Seth's quiver. His grandfather, Lord Kathair, gave the final arrow to him. "Sethrael son of Mithrael, my grandson, I am proud of you today. All the hunters have given you one of their own arrows so that you will remember that it is all the people for whom you hunt. It is also to acknowledge that you are one of us, now. You are a hunter and a man. Until today, your Dakara was the youngest to have ever become a hunter. He had reached only 10 seasons when he stood in the circle as you do today. I know that he is pleased that the one who takes his place as the youngest hunter is his own son."

Sethrael looked at his father in surprise. His father was smiling proudly, nodding at him.

"Thank you, Eldakara," Sethrael said to his grandfather, finding it difficult to keep his emotions at bay, then turned to the other men in the circle. "Thank you all." He bowed very low and his grandfather returned to sit with the men.

Sethrael was overcome with emotion, but he refused to allow it to show. When he straightened, he took a deep breath. "I know that it is customary for a new hunter to tell the story of his first hunt. But I do not feel worthy to stand before you and speak, so I ask my Dakara to tell the story for me."

He waited for his father to come forward, but Mithrael did not rise. "My son, you have proven your worth today. It is for you to tell your story, and it is with a Dakara's pride that I hear my son speak of his first hunt."

Sethrael took another deep breath and began his tale. At the beginning of his story, he spoke modestly of his deeds, but as he progressed, he became more and more excited and began to act out the parts of the rabbit, his father, and himself. Before the story was completed, it was completely unrecognizable from the actual hunt, but his listeners were thoroughly entertained. They laughed, wiping tears of mirth from their faces, very pleased that Mithrael had persuaded his son to tell his own story. It was a tale that would be remembered for many years to come.