Once upon a time there was a young tryker who lived with his family in the Old Lands before the desert aqueduct that brought water to the desert even existed. They lived from the trade of water. They were not very rich and their caravan was a very small one, but they were happy to roam the stretches of bark between the Lakes and the Desert. Liddie had been born on the trail and had spent all of his first ten years there. What he liked best was to hide in the thickets and leap out as the caravan passed for his little sister to scare. He loved to hear her howl and hide with her head buried in a stuffed toy full of golden fur, even if his mother scolded him later.
And one day, while they were walking near the border of the Matis country, they saw a large group of homins riding mektoubs. Liddie had moved away from the caravan to hide as he used to and did not see what was happening, but he soon heard a fighting sound. He returned to his family while remaining hidden. But he was far away and by the time he arrived, the fight was over. The mektoubers were surrounding the family. His father and uncle lay on the bark and bandits were tying their hands and feet. He was about to get up and reveal his presence when he met his mother's gaze. With a sign, she begged him to stay hidden and run away. Things went quickly. Within minutes, the family was tied up, loaded onto mektoubs, the barrels were overturned, the food scattered, and the troop disappeared, taking the mektoub pulling the wagon with them.
Liddie stayed there for many minutes, crying with rage and not knowing what to do. "Run away!" his mother had articulated. But running away with nothing, how far would he go?
So he gathered what he could without overloading himself and began to follow the trail of the mektoubers. He came across herds of shalah in the distance, but more importantly, he had to make detours to avoid hordes of cuttlers and varinx. This lengthened his path and the track became more and more difficult to follow.
His food supply was dwindling. His mother had taught him to look for roots, but he did not want to waste any more time. As for hunting, what could he do with his little knife?
But he continued stubbornly, refusing to admit defeat.
He walked like a sleepwalker and finally stumbled, falling head first on…
A small shalah.
He had never seen one so small. The shalah gave a sort of grunt. His first thought was that the creature would surely be easy to kill and would provide enough for him to last a few more days. But how to kill a creature whose long hair reminded him of his little sister? He dismissed the idea instantly. If the creature hadn't moved, it must have been injured.
- "Don't move little shalah, I'll take care of you!"
Talking out loud reassured him as he searched his bag for the first aid kit his mother imposed on him.
- "There it is all well cleaned. It was a nasty bite but with this healing agent it should be fine. Here, take the bottom of my flask. Tonight I'll watch over you."
By morning, Liddie had made a decision. He had to get the little shalah to safety among his own kind. That he could do. After... After... He did not want to think about after.
He helped the little shalah back on its feet and they both walked to the place where Liddie remembered seeing a large herd of shalah.
They walked for a long time, supporting each other. Liddie's step became heavier as the hours passed and he lost his alertness. The cuttler's attack was lightning fast. Even before he raised his knife, Liddie was bleeding from several bites. Valiantly, he stood his ground, protecting the shalah. He heard it growl at his back and BOOM! The bark exploded and the cuttler was buried under the rubble.
- "I thank you for protecting my son, little homin!"
Liddie startled. Turning around, he found himself nose to tusk with the largest shalah he had ever seen. He lifted his head until he almost fell backwards. The long hair was black and the shalah wore a crown on its back. The whole herd had wrapped them in a peace case.
The storyteller makes a small aside : Of course, you all know that during Atysmas, animals and homins can talk to each other. But let's get back to our story.
- "At least I managed that, but I didn't find my family."
Tears welled up in Liddie's eyes.
- "My family was taken away. I was looking for them when I found your son."
- "We have seen a troop pass, mounted on mektoubs. Their camp is further away. We heard screaming and crying there. Do you think your family might be there?"
Liddie nodded.
- "I usually stay away from the homins and their feuds, but you proved your worth and the camp of these homins smelled of fear. Climb on my back!"
And the herd set off. The shalah can move fast when they want to. The Bark shook under their steps and no carnivore tried to come between the surging wave and its objective. The roar of the bark became ever more deafening as Liddie saw the camp closing in and homins running in all directions. The slaver leader tried to mass his troops in front of his camp, but the charge swept away all resistance and soon the camp was in ruins, the slavers scattered. Liddie jumped down from his mount and ran to his parents. Cries of joy echoed throughout the camp as the trykers celebrated the shalah's victory over their captors. They braided handbells and rattles in the shalah's hair and danced all through Atysmas night. And in the morning everyone went back on their way in joy.
The storyteller stops and looks at the audience: I would like to say that since that time the slavers have disappeared and the friendship of trykers and shalah has remained strong, but the reality is quite different. However, the next time you come across Shalakan, think about it and hold your weapons for a caress.
