Valley People, Evelyn J. Steward [top business books of all time .txt] 📗

about kept it under control as he accosted the Headman.
“I know my friend, I know! But we have to plant seed quickly. No more babies must be born so late. Give them a chance of life at least.”
Chual calmed a little, the man was only wanting good for the village.
“If it has to be then it has to be. I must go check on the herd-beast Kundra.” With that Chual walked away his mind seething with many emotions. He had not trusted himself to say what he really wanted to tell Kundra. The whole thing was abhorrent to him. Why would he chose to mate with any of the women now when he had only chosen Para before as his one true love? Fear that he might have to sleep with many women to try to beget children, anger that he had been asked to do such a thing when Kundra of all people, knew his feelings. His agreement was just a way of getting out of Kundra’s clutches for the time being. His tacit agreement with himself was something else.
The ungainly Headman stalked away, somewhat disgruntled at Chual’s attitude. However, he had an agreement and that was all that mattered. Now to talk with the females, those he had not already spoken to. Many had not been as happy about the situation as he had told Chual and the other men. But they would come around. Babes meant more rations.
Chual passed the day by seeing to the beasts and feeding them what little hay was left and then bringing them out to graze on the few blades of green grass for a short time whilst he began to think of a plan for himself. His hand gently stroked the nearest cow. He felt how scrawny she was, but, with the promise of fresh grazing appearing daily, she would fatten up, have a calf and build up the herd. Grazing on the high slopes was always good once snow had melted. His only thought was that he wouldn’t see it. For he vowed to leave this place.
The day soon melted away and Chual bedded the herd-beasts down and walked slowly back towards his hut. Skirting the headman’s hut, he hoped to avoid the man. But that was not to be.
“Chual! I’m glad you have come, some of the ladies are ready to talk with you,” Kundra was in high spirits. Other men had agreed to his request and were inside the large hut. “We need you to join in, to drink and put you in the mood.”
Chual’s face clouded and he tried to think of a way to evade the jollities inside the hut. “I am too tired tonight, Kundra. Choose another night for me.”
“If you are so sure Chual, there will be other times, other women. Are you certain that I cannot persuade you? Well, if you are sure? Tomorrow night. Don’t work too hard during the day. Come to think of it, you could take some time during the day with one of them, I am sure they will comply. Doesn’t have to be at night, if that is what you would prefer.” Kundra’s facial expression had a slight leer to it.
“No, night time will be just fine,” Chual replied. Turning, he moved away and sought refuge in his hut. He felt sick at the thought of what he had been asked to do, disgusted that the man should suggest he complied during the day time when all would know what was happening. Except of course that he would find a way out and put his plan into action.
Next day Chual made himself scarce. He went to the woods and chopped wood for the fires. He managed to spend all day out there and returned home at nightfall with two beasts dragging the logs that he had chopped down. By the time he had deposited the logs in the pile and unhooked the cows led them back to the barn and fed them, it was dark. He kept away from the large hut and people were so busy making merry again that they had forgotten about him.
However deep the snow might be, Chual decided he would not, could not, comply with Kundra’s request. A request that would turn into an order. Had he been a younger man; had he not found (and lost) his beloved Para, he might have complied for the sake of the village. Not with one of the elderly matrons, not that under any circumstances. But there were a few woman who would not be unpleasing for the task. He was a man after all and sometimes had needs.
As Darkness fell, he gathered what possesions he might need, a small amount of food the small bundle he had prepared the previous night, he slipped out of his hut and started back down the track to the woods.
The ones who like flesh went to it secretly, gathering around the Charnel House, picking at the bones, those that had long since used up their rations, meagre though they were, forcing themselves to eat to live. Chual was gklad to go from this place. Surely it must be better elsewhere? Chual hand found the necessity abhorrant to him as would be laying with one of the village matrons. He had won the heart of the last young woman and she was gone forever.
In the dark, it was harder to walk through the trees. There was no moon but he little cared if he was heard or not. Soon, if he was not mistaken, the ground would rise. Here he would have to take care. Although he knew the path well, the fog and the darkness were too great a foe to ignore. He would settle himself into the small cave that few in the village knew about. Here he would spend what was left of the night. The morning light would give him courage to move on and out of the valley; hack his way through the snowdrifts and seek out what life had to offer on the other side of the range of mountains. Maybe to the place where his own birth-land lay?
When his mother died young, Chual was but a small child. His father left home taking Chual with him. Hard journeying. He had found this village and had stayed. His father told him it lay east of here, so that was the direction he would take.
He woke as dawn broke over the ridges, It was going to be a nice day. Melt some more snow. Chual grabbed a bite of the dry bread he had managed to secret in his bundle and started out on his journey. He had to be on the move to get as far away from the village as possible.
The snow was soft and not too deep on the slopes. He was careful of every step but made progress so that when mid-morning came, he had covered some distance and was higher up on the snow-laden slopes. He was grateful when he stepped over the ridge and the path began to descend. It was slippery and wet as the heat of the sun melted the snow. The further down he walked, the less snow he found.
Reaching the floor of the valley, he found that there was barely and snow left and walking was much easier. About him, small birds sang in the trees, A small river meandered through the valley. Chual followed the river until finally it descended into a waterfall. The climb down was difficult but he managed to find handholds and places to put his feet until finally, he reached the bottom of another valley. The warmth of the sun penetrated his winter garments. Removing his outer layers, he rolled them up and attached them to his carrisack. Sweat appeared on his brow and he kept moving on downwards through a valley full of green trees and trees in full flower so that many scent and colours assaulted his being. Stopping for a while, he rooted around under some trees and found a cache of nuts. A rock soon smashed the husks. They were a treat from the dry bread and he gobbled them up with relish. Satisfying to the pallet and his empty stomach. He tried again and found a small cache of different nuts, ones he loved but saved them for the following day.
Chual moved on cautiously as he had spied a tiny deer up ahead. Silently he took his slingshot and made ready to caste. One good shot and it was dead. Now he had meat for supper. After gutting the animal, he slung it over his shoulders and kept walking. There were usually greens of some sort beside the river and he would make a grand meal out of what the region provided. As he joynryed, he looked for flint and found some near a rocky outcrop. Another special stone would provide him with the means to make a fire and cook the meat. He saw no-one as he moved along and guessed that any villages lay further perhaps in the next valley?
He stopped late afternoon. The trees whispered and rattled in the breeze. The mountains were tall and they would soon hide the last of the sun’s rays. He found dry wood and grass to set his fire going. The cooking had been done by the village woman but he had often been out hunting and had to learn to cook meat for himself. He made a tripod and skewered the deer onto a damp stick, stretching it over the fire. Rotating the meat was not easy but he did what he could and so as time passed and the sky grew dark, the meat was cooked on all sides.
Chual was not greedy but the succulent meat was tempting and he ate more than he had planned. The nuts and some greens, though raw, completed his meal.
For eight days Chual tramped along a natural trail through other valleys and saw no one but on the ninth day he spied smoke spiralling up to the sky. It was a long way away but it was people. Then it dawned on him to wonder if these people would be friendly. Moving carefully, he headed towards the smoke spiral, killing three fat deer on the way. These were forest deer and not very large. He gutted them and swung them onto his shoulders. If he went in bearing a gift, surely it would seem he came in peace?
There was a compound and several small huts. One large hut stood in the centre of the village.