Assumed Hatred. [Summer Games Extravaganza Whatchimacallit]

[shisteer of nothing much]

Alrighty, this is my contribution. Sorry it's short. I tried it longer but it didn't really work. Enjoy.

Spoiler

  Masaya -daughter of the most legendary hero in the history of their tribe- wept, cradling the still form in her paws, tears of grief and frustration coursing down her grime stained cheeks. She'd failed. All her life she'd strived to become the hero, to stand in place of the mother her siblings never knew, to live up to her father's expectations, her tribe's expectation, her expectations. All her life she'd trained, mastering every skill and ability she had, concentrating all her energy and brain power to become what her family and friends needed. She'd learned everything she could from countless tutors, wise beasts and even the elements and now, when they all needed her most, she'd failed.

  Failure. The word tasted unfamiliar to her lips, and it was a bitter drink to swallow. She'd failed before. When she'd been too slow at firing her arrow or when she'd lost her temper at one of her siblings. Worse, the time she'd used damp wood on the camp fire and given away her position to the enemy. Yes, she'd experienced failure, but not like this. Not failure that would destroy her tribe, her sisters and, worst of all, her father. He would be stricken with grief. His life would never be the same. She'd never see him laugh or smile again, especially not at her.

  Saya squeezed her eyes shut in horror as the realisation hit her: Her father would hate her for this. It would be impossible not to. She couldn't bear to face him in all his righteous fury, the disappointment and bitterness blazing from his eyes as he told her to leave. Told her that he never wanted to lay eyes on her again and that he despised her completely, that she was more vile and disgusting than the vermin that frequently raided her home.

  She brushed the salty wetness from her face and looked up at the trees, her jaw set and resolute, her shoulders stiff with determination as she released the furry, blood-soaked bundle on her lap and stood up, gathering her bow, quiver, ration pack and water-sac. She wiped her sword clean on a discarded rag from one of the three vermin attackers and sheathed it, stuffing the wetstone into her bag as well before shouldering them and turning away and heading into the trees.

  Then she stopped and went back, stacking the belongings beside a tree and taking out a small spade, which she proceeded to use right then and there to dig a grave for the prone form on the ground. It didn't take long, for the hole only needed to fit the size of the little body it would hold. She wouldn't bury the vermin. She'd push them into the fissure. They didn't deserve a proper grave and she didn't have time to give them one anyway.

  The vermin dealt with and grave ready, she gently placed the small bundle in the earth, only two more tears landing on the tiny body before Saya covered him with soft soil and took out her knife, engraving one word on the small piece of wood she'd lovingly carved for him in the shape of a sword. It was carefully laid over the grave and Saya stood and buckled on her own sword in its scabbard, slung her bow, pack and quiver over her shoulder and turned to leave, pausing and reading the word on the wooden blade one last time.

  Lahde.

  It was a simple word, not terribly significant to any who hadn't known him but containing more than a thousand lines of poetry in the love and joy it meant to those that understood. She'd always remember him, and she'd never forget that she'd failed.

  Neither will Father. She reminded herself, finally dragging her gaze away and back to the trees and life awaiting her as she picked up her gear and disappeared, finally swallowing her fate.

[close]

[Ebantu the Kararehe]

So tragic; well done, Teer! I really like sad stories, and this one is great.

[Ripred the Gnawer]

But what does Lahde mean?