Pressing her lips to the grand horn placed on the ground, a tall woman with long, straight, dark hair, blew a deep note that pervaded the woods nearby. The horn had been mounted on two, tiny columns built on a narrow, rectangular footing. It was placed just within the walls surrounding the lands where she lived and worked. As the sound of the horn faded, the woman gazed at the forest longingly.
Deep in the woods, Aadi looked up as the notes of the horn reached him. His eyes gazed in the direction from which the sound had originated, accustomed by habit to the horn that called him home. On the horizon, the sun was setting and his family didn’t like to be in the woods after sundown. It wasn’t so much the danger posed by the denizens of the forest as Aadi’s mother’s insistence that her family spend the evenings together and partake of a sumptuous repast.
Slinging the carcass of the deer that he had killed a few minutes ago on his shoulder, Aadi headed out of the forest towards home. Nothing barred his way; nary a creature blocked his path. The path out of the woods wasn’t a permanent one. It had been created over time by herbalists, gatherers, and hunters like Aadi, who trod that very path routinely. When it rained, the way would become muddy. When it was covered with snow, the path would slow travellers considerably. In both cases, people would occasionally stumble, unable to find firm footing.
It had rained the day before yesterday and the muddy path hadn’t dried entirely. Aadi was an old hand in these parts, however and he traversed it easily. Crossing the threshold of the woods, he walked towards the small stream ahead and didn’t bother with the small timber bridge that spanned it. The stream was shallow and the bridge was built to protect the raw materials that would be brought back from the forest. No one wanted soggy herbs or drenched game.
Aadi let his long, leather boots sink into the cold water of the stream. It was a tad uncomfortable, but the water didn’t seep into his pants. His boots were slightly short of knee-length and the stream’s water level lower still. When he stepped out of the stream on the opposite bank, he adjusted the deer’s carcass on his shoulder. It hadn’t got wet at all. Plucking an edible berry that grew in an adjacent bush, Aadi popped it into his mouth. Savouring it, he continued homewards.
Past the stream were fairly flat, open plains, disturbed only by a hill or two. As he kept walking, Aadi came upon a wood road of questionable worth. It was better than the dust and mud of a holloway, but that wasn’t saying much. Farther ahead, the road was artlessly paved with stone blocks. “Appa and his friends are working on it whenever they can,” Aadi thought as he walked quickly over the wood to get to the comfortable stone, “It might not be a king’s road, but it sure beats trudging through mud.”
His steps took Aadi to the walled boundaries of the land on which his family lived. The wall had been constructed with varying heights, high at some points and fairly low at others. Its purpose wasn’t to keep wild animals out, primarily, but to mitigate the odour that arose from within. As Aadi approached the short gates that governed access to his family’s property, it assaulted his nostrils! The smell of chemicals and fluids used to decontaminate, stretch, and tan the hides of animals threatened to overwhelm anyone who came near. There was also an abattoir to slaughter some of the kills for the choicest meat and its stench wouldn’t spare anyone either. Aadi was long since used to it, but he occasionally wished he could avoid the tannery entirely on his way home.
There were two main buildings on their land. The one closest to the main gate was the tannery. Situated opposite it farther away was the family home, built at a slight elevation. Placed upwind from the tannery, their home was blessedly spared the foul smells emanating from it. On the rare occasion that a gust blew upwind, everyone held their breath until it passed. Aadi walked through the front gate and spotted his father outside their house. Turning towards the tannery, he walked up to the spot where the hunted animals were stored and hefted the deer’s carcass off his shoulder. He placed it in the bin along with the other bodies that were going to be processed soon. A good day’s work done, he turned around to greet his father, only to find a fist-sized, wooden block headed right for him!
Aadi ducked the incoming projectile, at the same time priming the slingshot that had been tucked away in one of his pockets. His free hand retrieved a stone from another pocket, as the wooden block sailed harmlessly over his head. Before it began its steep descent groundward, Aadi spun around and loosed the stone from his slingshot. It streaked unerringly towards the block, intercepting it! He didn’t wait to see the result, though. Knowing his father well enough, Aadi pivoted. As expected, another wooden block was on its way. This time, he didn’t evade it.
Setting another stone to his slingshot’s rubber band, he targeted the block and shot it down. Almost immediately, a third block sailed through the air towards his head! It met with the same fate as its fellows. Aadi’s father was a tall man, taller than his mother. His wide-set shoulders supported strong arms that worked the tannery and the abattoir, chopped stout trees, and laid stone roads. He flung wooden blocks at his son faster than most people could pick them up! Aadi rose to the occasion and intercepted each and every block, save the one that his father purposely threw high.
The exercise having been completed, he put his slingshot away and strode towards his father. “You missed one,” his father said, a mocking smile on his face. “You win some, you lose one,” Aadi replied, shrugging. “Hah,” his father said, clapping his son on the shoulder, “Did you have a good hunt?” He nodded and said, “It took some time, but I came through.” Pointing at the storage bin near the tannery, Aadi said, “There’s a lot to do.” His father huffed and said, “We can get to it tomorrow. Your mother is waiting for us. She’s made something delicious for dinner.”
Before he could reply, Aadi heard his mother’s voice call out, “Viraat, Aadarsh, if you are done playing, come inside and wash up for dinner.” Viraat, his father, grinned and said, “Come on. It’s best not to tarry.” “Right behind you,” Aadi replied, following his father home. Once inside, his father said loudly, “Zehra, we’re home!” Pat came her reply, “In the kitchen.” Viraat and Aadarsh joined the lady of the house in the large room that served as a dining room-cum-kitchen. Zehra was working a large cauldron quickly, occasionally shifting to the kitchen counter to fetch an ingredient or two.
“It smells delicious,” Aadi thought aloud, looking at the cauldron and the thick soup that was being cooked in it. “It is,” his mother said, “Wash up and then, let’s eat.” They obeyed her implicitly and the three of them sat at the dining table. Hungry stomachs rumbled at the sight of the bowls of hot soup and meat and without further ado, they began to eat. The sound of spoons tapping bowls pervaded the room, interspersed with the occasional dialogue. “I love this,” Aadi thought as he ate his dinner, “I love coming home to this.” Viraat had the same train of thought, for he said, “This is nice.” Zehra looked at him as she ate a piece of meat and smiled. Aadi merely nodded.
When they had finished, Aadi and his mother got up to clear the table. Picking a couple of bowls up, Zehra said, “Kalis came by today.” “Oh?” his father remarked. The local leathersmith worked closely with Aadi’s family, as his enterprise depended on them to supply its raw materials. “He wanted to know if he could pick up another lot of hides tomorrow,” his mother continued, “I asked him to stop by in the morning.” Viraat nodded, “We should have a small shipment ready for him.”
When he heard Kalis’s name, Aadi perked up. The leathersmith’s son was his close friend and he looked forward to his company. Perhaps they might have an adventure in the woods, or go into town seeking thrills and excitement. Continuing to clear the table, Aadi let his mind wander into the future. Who knew what the morrow would bring?