Chapter Text
The stone arrow landed between his feet, a perfect shot and an even clearer warning.
The youth looked up, startled at the new development, one hand reaching for his own sharpened stone blade. In his hand, the falcon merely ruffled its feathers, but did not take off.
The one who emerged from the bushes looked to be the same age, that awkward age between a man and boy, when their bones seemed too long and sharp for their skin. Unlike his prey, the hunter was so pale that many would think him a spirit or an omen, with hair of spun sunlight and eyes of milky rivers.
“That’s my hunting bird,” The child of sunlight said, bow aimed at his heart.
A growl came from the dark, low and daring.
“And that is my hunting hound,” He replied, lips twitching up in amusement at the stalemate they had ended up in.
They eyed each other for a long moment, two boys pretending to be stronger and wiser than they were. Slowly, carefully, both of them put their weapons away at the same time, unwilling to go home to their mothers injured.
“I thought my people were the only ones travelling this way,” The dark-haired boy offered. “We come from where the sun sets, where the false sea lies beyond the rock mountain that touches the sky with the stinking boiling pools. My mother and father were from the valley of bulls, where there is fish aplenty and fierce aurochs.”
“I’ve seen that mountain from a distance,” The pale boy replied. “Only two moon turns ago, my mother took us south to trade and I could see the land attempt to meet the sky. She was born in the north, beyond the sands of the great river, following the coast of where the sea is vast and salty. My father was from even further north, where there are deserts and rain of white. I was born in the dry sand which banks the sea that turns to blood, where the sun rises.”
“I’ve heard stories of the bloody sunrise sea,” He perked up, smile blooming wide across his face. “My people travel towards it, they say it is warmer there, but beyond that place it has a land where there are great rains and roots take easily. My father says that he wouldn’t need to hunt often because the people there keep animals that do not wander away or fight back.”
“It’s true!” A grin echoes his. “My people head there now. Mother says that she was there once when she was young, where people slept in caves made of fallen trees and stone, and built thin hollow mountains that touched clouds.”
His mouth drops, “You lie! How can a man build a mountain?”
“Mother says that they hardened clay and built them like giant vases, greater than a thousand men tall.” He protested his innocence.
Stumped at that logic, the dark-haired boy huffed and sat roughly on the uneven ground, causing the falcon to squawk and take off in protest. He wasn’t alone long, however, as his brown-black hound came to join him.
“I suppose you know more than me,” He allowed. “My mother calls me Ber-he, piercer of skin.”
“Mine calls me Aepo-helh, destroyer from afar.” Aepo-helh gave his own name in return. “What were you hunting?”
“I wished for fish, but I found no lakes or rivers so far,” Ber-he admitted, though he had only just started his hunt. “I know father said we must go north because of the great drying and heat, but I did not expect to see it so dry already.”
“This land is dry, and it will become drier until we pass the great river,” Aepo-helh wrinkled his nose and brushed his hand through his hair. “I dislike the heat, my skin turns red and I need to use many herbs to heal it.”
“It turns red?” Ber-he was fascinated. “Is it because you are the colour of dry sand?”
“Mother says so. She says my father was the same, and she, with the skin like dark wet sand, has more water, and water does not warm like dry sand. I came to find more water too, so that I may drink and not become too hot.”
The other boy was an archer-hunter and a knowing healer, and Ber-se couldn’t help his own envy, a pool of heat growing in his stomach as he thought of the other’s competency. He was more talented and his sand-skin was unheard of and pretty.
“I’ll find it for you,” He said, eager to show off his own skills and how easily he can help. “Wukos is a great hunter hound.”
Aepo-helh offered him a hand to stand up, “Then let’s go together.”
Ber-se took his hand.
Later that night, both boys returned to their peoples with a stomaches full of fish and wet hair, laughing as they spoke of their new friend. A pair of mothers, curious about this new friendship, came together and negotiated for both travelling groups to journey together to their new land.
The journey was not easy; not with the arid desert which stole water from mouths and the lack of greenery that emptied stomaches. Their elders did not often make it through the cold nights and the youngest began to fall ill easily.
Aepo-helh was often sent out by his mother to gather herbs and stones that could only be found in the crevices of the land, and Ber-he, loyal to a fault, would always follow behind him to assist.
When they finally found themselves at the great river, where greenery grew once more, nearly two years since the boys met, their mothers sent them out once more.
“This is the last of the wealthy green and water until we reach the bloody red sea,” Aepo-helh’s mother had warned. “We need to gather as many herbs as possible before we cross the river.”
So they went. On the riverbanks, the boys found plenty, but neither were used to this type of land. Aepo-helh had been very young the last time he had last crossed the great river, and Ber-he had never travelled this path.
Neither boy saw the yellow-haired beast until it was too late.
Later, as the sun set, Ber-he’s father came upon the dead lioness in a pool of red, her muzzle wet with blood not her own. A stone blade stuck out from her left eyes and several arrows were burrowed at different depths in her body. The mud at the riverbank was slick from water kicked up and a thicker, more viscous liquid. Nobody had heard the splash, but they all knew where their young hunters had gone.
Neither boy ever got to cross the great river.
Their mothers, determined that their sons’ bravery would never be forgotten, began to spread the story of their hunter youths to all they passed.
Unfortunately, one story was more easily remembered than the other.
After all, in 10,000 BC, there are hundreds of dead black-haired boys who would be hunters, but a child with hair like the sun who could shoot from afar and heal the sick was something rare indeed.
Aepo-helh’s story lived on, adapting and growing, embellishing and gaining power until young boys would call upon his name when they took aim during a hunt and mothers would think of him as their children became ill. On the bank of the Nile, a god was born.
Still, his story of bravery and how he defended his friend could not be forgotten, and so the god’s story was always told with mention of his hunting companion.
Myths have power, and the more powerful the memory of a myth, the less likely a god was to fade. However, what happens when a god is always told as one who had a partner– a partner who is not as easily remembered?