THE HUNTRESS
By
Tala Bar
The Huntress listened to the forest. It was a mixed wood
of various oaks, pines and fruit trees that spread over
some low hills well below the snow line. It had a
variety of animals and birds and she could hear them
all, large and small, going about their business. She
knew that business well – the flight of the jay and the
knocking of the woodpecker; the call of the woodcock and
the hiss of the snake; and the rustle of the little
rodents hiding from fox or ferret. But more than
anything she listened to the majestic deer that walked
gently over dry leaves and twigs.
The season was between Midsummer and the beginning of
autumn. The chicks in the nests were beginning to
stretch their little wings, and the animal young were
walking beside their mothers, having been born in
spring. It was hot, and at this hours toward the end of
the day, many of them came down to drink from the pond.
It lay beyond a thin line of trees that separated it
from the Huntress, where she stood, and was fed by an
underground spring and never dried in summer.
The Huntress listened to the deer, their hooves stepping
gently on the dry fallout, waiting with her bow raised
and the arrow lying on the string. Here they came. A
mother doe and her two fawns, a male and a female. She
had been spotting them since springtime, and now was the
season to take one of them down and bring home her kill.
She had decided to kill the male, leaving the female to
breed. She watched as the mother’s neck came out from
among the trees, then the female young, then the male.
The Huntress held her breath as he turned his head to
look, right at her, inviting. She let the arrow go and
it buzzed through, hitting him in the neck. He fell at
his mother’s hooves. She skipped, and vanished among the
trees, the young female after her. The Huntress came up
to her kill, bowing over it for a short inspection.
“Hey, Huntress,” she heard a call. A man came from the
direction of the pond. He was naked, showing off his
brave manhood, as if ready for anything. A tall,
muscular young man, with dark hair and eyes and a strong
aquiline nose. She knew him, and the unusually tamed dog
that followed him everywhere; he had reared it from a
puppy, having found it abandoned by his band. The
Huntress had always liked the man, who passed the Camp
frequently on his wanderings through the woods; now, she
felt, she had her chance.
“Dogman!” she cried, softly. “Have you got your knife?
If you help me with my catch, you can have your reward
afterwards.”
“What would you like done with your kill, then?” he
asked, playfully.
From nowhere – perhaps from the long, thick, dark hair
on his head – he produced a knife, and they worked
together on the corpse of the deer. They first skinned
it; then they opened up its body and the Huntress took
out the stomach and put it on a cleft of a tree.
“What is that for?” the Dogman asked.
“A gift to the Goddess of the Wood,” she said. “It may
encourage her to make the forest plentiful, and allow us
to hunt in it.”
The man remained silent, being unfamiliar with her
ideas. They then cut the rest of the body into separate
parts, to make it easier to carry back to Camp, and the
man through a few scraps to the dog. The body of the
deer contained useful parts for her family, which
consisted of the Huntress’ mother, sisters, and any
children that belonged to them, as well as the only
brother who preferred to stay with the family to
wandering off, as many men did. There was the meat to
eat, and bones, intestines and sinews to make various
tools of. The Huntress handed the Dogman the deer’s eyes
as a special delicacy, a rewarding gift for his help.
When they finished, and she had put what she needed in
her basket, she looked at her bloody body and said,
“Let’s dip in the pond. The water must be cool and
pleasant now.”
He grinned at her, watching as she removed her short
grass skirt from her waist and appreciating what he saw.
She was not as tall as he was, but had a lithe, slim
body with rounded breasts, dark hair and flashing dark
eyes. Her nose was straight and her lips full, and there
was no man around Camp that did not covet her body.
She ran to the pond and splashed in it, then came up to
the man, who had come in and was swimming around; she
collided with him on purpose and began a splashing
match. Games led to other games, some in the water and
finishing up on the grassy bank, until they were
satiated and it was time for her to go home and for him
to wander off on his way.
II
Getting pregnant was the Huntress main purpose in lying
with Dogman, although having pleasure was not to be
sneered at. She was one of the few women at the camp on
the edge of the forest who knew the connection between
sex and children; that secret was well guarded from the
men, keeping it as a power over them. The Huntress,
however, had spent most of her life in the forest,
watching the beasts and the birds living in it, thus
enhancing her scant initial knowledge about that
connection. She saw no need to share that secret with
anyone. When she found out that her mother knew, she
talked to her often about it, and they became better
friends for it.
Getting pregnant did not change much in the Huntress’
life style at first. At the Autumn festival, she still
took part in the traditional Hunt dancing. She added
decoration to the beauty of her body by tattoos,
feathers and various animals’ skins, with the fawn’s
skin as the prize decoration.
During the winter rains and cold weather, as her belly
grew larger and heavier, she stayed home on cold and
rainy days. The women had woven branches from the
forest’s trees into thick mats which they used as
shelter, from the sun in summer and from the rains in
winter; otherwise, they lived out in the open, at the
edge of the woods.
The Huntress had taken on the job of cutting the fawn’s
intestines into very needed strings, a job that was
gladly left to her by her sisters, who preferred weaving
baskets and mats; but most of the bone carving was done
by their brother, and others of the men who preferred
the Camp's sedentary way of life to wanderings through
the woods.
***
At last spring came, and she gave birth to twins, male
and female. ‘Just like the deer,’ she thought to herself
with satisfaction. She presented them at the Spring
festival, getting praise from all sides for her
well-taken effort.
But the Huntress had her own idea about her progeny,
which she found unnecessary to share with anyone else.
Being a huntress taught her to be on her own most of her
life, taking decisions on her own with not much
consultation. Not everyone at Camp liked her way of
living, but as usual, she had the strength of mind to
keep her ideas and fulfill them as she willed.
Thus, on the first day she went to the forest after her
delivery, she took both children with her, kept in a
sling and carried in front of her body. Her mother tried
to argue that she’d better leave them home – one of her
cousins had just given birth and could even suckle them
if needed – but the Huntress would not listen, and as
usual, she had her way.
It was a glorious day, though not yet hot; caressing
warmth kissed her body and the sunrays fell on the dark
heads of the babies, and the Huntress felt success was
accompanying her in what she had to do.
The golden rays filtered through the sprouting leaves of
trees that have stood naked throughout winter. Little
rivulets of water still ran through the undergrowth
among the trees from the last rain, but she knew they
were going to dry out very soon. She went to see the
pond, whose ripple played gold against the blue sky and
naked sun. She dipped her hand and sprinkled droplets on
her children’s heads. They made sounds that seemed to
her like happiness, though she knew well they were as
yet too young to express such feelings.
She then went back into the thicket, walked some way
until she reached a particular flat rock she knew. It
lay under the naked sky, the trees standing a little way
away from it. Sunrays fell on it, warming up its top,
and the Huntress sat down on it. She took out her Son
from the sling and gave him her breast; she cleaned him
with some broad leaves and fondled him, rocked him until
he was asleep. Then she rose and put him, naked as he
was, on the warm rock face. She stepped a little
backward and gave homage to the Goddess of the Wood.
“Here is my most precious gift to you, oh
Goddess.
Take him to your bosom and care for him,
And grant us plenty for this gift,
Your fertile gift in your precious wood.”
The Huntress was not gifted with great poetic words. But
she was able to talk from her heart and from her needs,
and never knew the Goddess of the Wood to turn her back
on her.
She then turned her back on her precious Son and went
away to the village, carrying her even more precious
Daughter, who would take an active part in her life. She
would bring her up to take her place as a Huntress, as
no one else in the Camp was ever interested in doing
that job.
II
As long as her Daughter could not walk, the Huntress
carried the child in the sling with her into the forest.
Hunting was not easy in this way, so she spent her time
gathering food. At first it was the season of bird
nesting, and she collected eggs and newborn little
animals, as well as new, succulent roots. There were
also blossoms that served for a variety of purposes for
the Camp’s women.
When the Huntress’ Daughter started to walk, she
accompanied her mother into the forest; the woman’s
hands were free now to use her bow and her knife, and
she could teach her Daughter the ways of the forest. The
Huntress took great pleasure in doing so, showing her
Daughter its birds and animals and explaining to her
about them, even before she could teach her to shoot
with the bow and arrow. Thus the Daughter also learned
about all the dangers of the forest, in the same way the
Huntress herself had learned about them when she was the
same age.
All that time, as they were walking through, and resting
in, the woods, a strange feeling always accompanied the
Huntress that she was unable to understand. When five
double seasons of summer and winter had passed, and the
Daughter was able to talk well and had learned many of
the secrets of good hunting, she said one day, “Mother,
did I have a brother?”
Frightened, the Huntress crouched by her Daughter’s
side, looked at her intently and said, “Why are you
asking?”
“I heard Aunty One and Aunty Two talking about it; but
when I asked Gran, she would not tell me. Did I?”
The Huntress kept silent for a long time, and the
Daughter began to think she asked the wrong question. It
happened sometimes, and that was how she learned what
not to ask. Her mother, in the meantime, was remembering
how her own mother behaved when she came back from the
forest on that day without her Son. She knew, straight
away, although the Huntress tried to tell her sisters
some fabricated story about a disaster. They tried to
believe her, but her mother was too wise for that.
However, she said nothing, but scooped up in her arms
the son of another of her daughters and fondled him
until he was fed up and got away from her. No one had
ever spoken of her Son.
“Daughter,” the Huntress said now as they both sat down
on the bank of the pond, “You tell me why you ask and
I’ll be frank with you.” It was a pleasant autumn day
and they had been gathering nuts and berries that grew
in plenty, filling up their baskets. They had not been
swimming in the pond, but dipped their bare feet in the
water, munching on some of their finds.
“Because,” the Daughter said, not looking at her mother
but at the wood on the far end of the pond, “I’ve always
had a feeling someone was following us in the woods. But
today he spoke to me.”
“He?” The Huntress asked in astonishment, as it suddenly
hit her. That was it – her Son’s spirit had been
following them all that time when they came to the
forest, gathering and playing and hunting together,
games from which he had been excluded because he had
been sacrificed.
“Son, he calls himself, and I thought he was the Son of
the Goddess of the Wood. But today he told me he was
your son first, and I wondered.”
“He never spoke to me,” the Huntress whispered. “Is he
angry with me?”
“No, he’s never angry. But sometimes he’s sad, when he
can’t join us in what we are doing.”
“I hoped the Goddess would looked well after him. I was
sorry to part from my Son, but I couldn’t care for him
because I had you to think about, and I couldn’t look
after both of you together.”
“You wouldn’t give him to Gran to look after, or one of
my Aunties?” asked the Daughter.
The Huntress shook her head so vigorously that the girl
fell silent.
“I wish he’d talk to me,” the Huntress said at last,
shaking her head.
“He can’t,” her Daughter answered, “but I can give you
his words. He loves us, and sometimes he sends the
hunting our way, but he can’t talk to you as you’re an
adult and would not hear him.”
“Give him my love, then, and we’ll talk more about this
in the evening. Now we have work to do.”
That was that for the day, and they did talk about it in
the evening, but they soon dropped it in company of the
family. Since that day, though, the Huntress was aware
of her Son’s presence in the forest, and always
remembered to give him homage, calling him Son of the
Goddess as she addressed him, although she never heard
him talking to her directly.
III
Time passed, the Daughter grew and became more and more
adept at finding her way through the forest, knowing the
ways of its plants, animals and birds. She learned to
use the various tools the Huntress had been using –
different kinds of knives for cutting and peeling, a
trowel for digging in the earth and all kinds of ropes;
and at last she learned to make her own bow and arrows,
and to use them for hunting.
She grew taller and taller until she had surpassed her
mother in height, looking more willowy in shape, not
just slim and flexible but also fluid and slippery in
all her movement. She was a dancing creature who was
able to slide through the trees and the undergrowth like
the wind rustling in the leaves.
Ten double seasons had passed since the day of her
birth, as you could count on the fingers of both hands.
That was as much as the Huntress could count, and she
knew it was when the girl stopped being a Daughter and
required a name for herself. When the Huntress had had
ten double seasons, winter and summer, her instructor in
hunting, who had been a cousin of her mother, said she
was an accomplished huntress and there was no name more
suitable for her, so it was hers.
That instructor was called Windy, because her method was
to follow the wind wherever she went. What name, now,
should her Daughter be called? There should be a great
party at Camp. The choice would be mainly the Huntress’,
particularly as she was the girl’s instructor. It was up
to her, then, to suggest a suitable name. It was going
to be a big affair, and it was time she told her old
mother – or perhaps some of her sisters, who were not as
frail as the old woman – to start preparing for it.
“You know that you’re almost grown up, Daughter,” she
said. “We are going to have a big party for you, give
you your own name, and then you’re going to go out to
the forest as an accomplished huntress, to do the work
all by yourself. Do you feel you’re ready for it?”
But it seemed that the Daughter had different ideas from
those of the Huntress, and instead of answering her she
said, “I’ve seen the Goddess of the Wood.”
The older woman stopped and looked at her Daughter, not
knowing how to respond to this new situation. She had
never forgotten the appearance of the spirit of her Son
to her Daughter, of which she herself had been deprived.
The same thing seemed to occur now all over again,
raising again the image of her Son left behind on that
rock... That image had disappeared a long time ago, the
Huntress sensed that the presence of her Son’s spirit
had gradually faded until it was no longer there. This
new apparition, however, sounded like something
completely different.
“Let’s sit here for a moment, and you tell me how it
happened,” she invited. They sat down on a rock jutting
out of the forest’s floor not far from the pond, which
was the Huntress favorite spot.
She was watching the water, while her Daughter faced the
light breeze as she said,
“She appeared suddenly from among the trees a couple of
days ago, when we were separated on our different tasks.
You wanted me to find certain plants on my own, and she
was there.”
“What did you see? What did she look like?” The Huntress
asked. It was true that she had never aspired to see the
Goddess, but it did not mean that there was no tinge of
envy in her question. Still, that was her own Daughter
who had been privileged, and it certainly rubbed on her
own merit as well.
“It was very difficult to say, as she merged so well
with the trees and the undergrowth,” the girl answered.
“And how did you know who she was?”
“She told me, and I couldn’t not believe her. She told
me a few things that I may tell you one day but not just
now. It was awesome!”
“Well...” the Huntress was sighing. Time was getting on
for everyone, especially for her Daughter and for
herself.
“You are blessed, my Daughter, and may it help you pass
your life in happiness. Do you think it should affect
the way we choose your name for you?”
The girl pondered for a while. “I’m not sure I want to
tell it to everyone right now, I’d like to keep it as a
secret for myself for a while, with you as the guardian
of it.” She leaned toward her mother’s body and hugged
her waist. They did not often hug these days, now that
she was almost completely grown, but once in a while
they still felt the need for closeness, as they did when
she was a child.
“What do you think, then?” the Huntress asked.
“I have an idea but I want to think about it a little
more, and hear other people’s ideas. Then, at the end of
my thinking, I’ll ask what you think. I want to know,
but I have an idea we think very much alike.”
Yes, the Huntress thought, they did have similar ideas,
most times, although their behavior was rather
different.
The big day of the Party arrived. Food was prepared, and
strong drink made from the fruit of the forest; the
Camp’s clearing was cleaned of rubbish, and new flowers
suddenly appeared as if by magic. People who intended to
take part in the dancing put on new grass skirts; young
and old, men and women, were arranged separately for
their performances. The musicians picked up their reed
pipes and their wood drums and the ceremony began.
Then, in the center of the dance, the Huntress’ Daughter
appeared with a new dance performed by her feet and her
agile body. That was a declaration, the Huntress and
everyone else knew that a name had been chosen and no
one could suggest anything else. From that day onward
the Huntress’s Daughter was to be called Dancer, and no
other name would suit her.
Later, when they were sitting by themselves together, as
they used to do sometimes in the old days, the Dancer
said to the Huntress, “I did not tell you before, but it
was when I was dancing in the forest that the Goddess of
the Wood appeared to me. That’s why I had to have this
particular name.”
***
A few days after the Party, after both mother and
daughter had recovered, the Huntress said to the Dancer,
“You know all the ways of the forest as I know, and you
are as perfectly skilled as a huntress as I was at your
age. Now it’s time for you to go on your own and fulfill
your calling there, and it’s time for me to stay behind.
I’m too old for the job and cannot fulfill it properly,
so I’d better do easier tasks from now on, join the
gathering groups and do light chores as befits my age.”
“I’m sorry we won’t go out together anymore, Mother,”
the girl said, her dark eyes shining with standing
tears.
“Once in a while I can still come with you, Daughter,”
the Huntress said, fondly, “but from now on you’re in
charge and I’ll do what you say. Good luck to you,
Dancer, and may the Goddess of the Wood have you always
in her sight.”
END