Part 1 of Ch.1 of Bandit

Chapter 1

A Celebration and a Curse

I was a young sixteen year old Cherokee girl, living on the lush green sharp bladed grass grounds of our Cherokee lands. The bright crystal, blue, waters were crisp and flowing with generations of life that had provided us with years of rich nutritious foods. Everything was perfect; normal even. Nothing to ever worry about...

The powerful pounding hooves of the Bison stampeding, gave us all a thrill of excitement. I spotted with keen eyesight a Bison off to the left of the herd who was injured; its leg was sticking out at an odd angle. He was struggling, but he was still quite a distance away. My arrow could miss... I stilled my oak wood bow and concentrated hard. This was my chance.

The sharp stone arrow blazed through the air and pierced the strong muscular beast so fast. With a small cry the fierce but suffering beast stumbled haphazardly to the ground causing a storm of richly colored, cloudy, brown dust to settle over the newly dead corpse. Excitement coursed through my body. I reminded myself that this was my catch.

The two instructors brought down two more beasts just as they stopped in mid-racing to see what had happened. Confusion and fear swept through the heard. But after a few minutes of peace and no disturbance, the beasts went on to grazing; like the whole thing had been forgotten, or rather never happened. The two other beasts that were brought down were not just for play. There was to be a feast! There was to be a grand, glorious, mouth-watering, luscious feast. The once rooted, hard, brown potatoes would be turned hot and mushy over the burning fire. Bunches of freshly picked juicy, dripping, colorful fruits would also be tended to for this wonderful feast.

For tonight was a great honorable celebration. Our ninety-two year old elder's birthday was on this very day. We would braid his long, flowing sandy-beach colored hair. We would pin the legendary yellow-golden eagle feather to his newly crafted war bonnet; a feather so special, it had remained in our tribe for over five hundred years. Five hundred years filled with beautiful pale white snow covered winters, to the very bright sun filled days of spring when the earth's soil had become fertile; always promising us a year of great harvest.

We all scurried like little mice towards the dead Bison, careful to watch for the rest of the bountiful herd's mood. We observed carefully the body language of the herd. They might have wanted to stampede us out of the circular clearing for revenge of their taken brethren. This was a rare occurrence because like we were taught in Hunting class anything in a herd that was hurt was no longer protected on our lands. Hence the forgotten mourning of the taken beasts by their families and friends.

We were still very quick. Hunter Pierson, (the hunting instructor), and two other adults of which I could not see through the blinding sun, took our Bear-stretched fur tied to two very hard maple tree branches. They cautiously laid it next to the red blood soaked ground, next to the corpse of my felled beast. Before we touched it to move it to the heavenly soft brown fur, we all peered down the open plains for a last look at the herd. They didn't bother with us that day. Two other adults crawled hurriedly to the reddish-brown Bison and once more to the last one. Their naked feet barely skimmed the freshly wet grass.

Last night the clouds and sky were black with the need to pour down their tears to Mother Earth. The lightning and thunder billowed above us. The wind howled at our heels like the young pups of a once pregnant mother wolf. Finally her tears dropped graciously splattering our faces like the blessings of our deceased ancestors and Elders. Then later like the black feathered Crows that throw little round pebbles at us children while we were learning.

Today was different. It was a hot Spring day and everyone seemed to be moaning about the heat. I kept to myself and wondered. Yes I did shoot that arrow and kill the beast. But was it really fair? The beast was injured. But it was that specific beast that Hunter Pierson told me to shoot. So I did. Then with my stomach grumbling in anticipation for the coming feast my mind pushed the thought of unfairness away...

We arrived back at our homestead bristling with all kinds of beautiful, bright colored flowers and soft, copper and brown bear-hide covered tipis. We waved to all of the hard working women laboring over the fires for tonight's finest feast.

Two of my cousins came running over to their daddy back from the hunt putting their kiwi sized palms in his and slapping him against his legs in their excitement. They hollered at the top of their high-pitched, squeaky voices. It made me excited to see that they were happy. They were safe. We were all okay...

My two cousins were named Willow and Ret. Willow was a little paler than the rest of us being very light skinned. She had straight brown, shoulder length hair and brown eyes with a smile that could lift a bad day, any day. She was sweet as pie but did get a little bratty at times. What could I say; she was a favorite among our tribe. Though just three years old, she had an unexplainable growth spurt and could talk just like her brother. We didn't think... or rather chose not to think anything of it.

Ret, Willow's brother was also light skinned with short cropped brown hair and brown eyes. He was the little buster of the tribe although he could be very sweet to a selected few. I felt proud to be one of them.

My older cousin Chive with more light skin, had slightly longer hair just jutting out a little and hazel eyes.  He was nearing sixteen and was very close to me. He came over to give me a big hug. But then retreated quickly as my last cousin came over...

She wasn't happy. You could just see her eyes open like slits, reminding me of the stray cats we see sometimes. Risk sixteen years old, got punished for loosing her arrow too early, ignoring our teacher's commands while out on our other hunt last week. This act made us lose our "before celebration" practice Bison as all of the Beats went stampeding away. They seemed to feel her negative hostile energy. And not to mention she nearly lunged at them rather than loosed her arrow. That was three days ago.

Risk had long poker-straight, chocolate brown hair. Her hair topped her berry brown body. With her piercing baby blue eyes and her lean muscular body she came stalking over to me like a Sister cat...

"How was the hunt?" She asked, with a strong edge to her voice that shook through the air. Ret and Willow scuttled back to their daddy. And then everyone in close proximity got silent like a deer on target. Our masters got out pens and paper to observe and take notes.

"It wasn't as exciting without you there." I seethed. She sharpened her narrow eyebrows and looked me straight in the eyes as if to start a fight.

"You should have listened to Hunter Pierson about shooting your arrow before the signal, then you would have won the "Elders Prize." I said matter-of-factly.

That was the deal, one of us were to shoot a Bison that was about twenty five yards away or more for our "Mastery" in that part of our Hunting training. We had to shoot one big enough for it to be the Elder's Prize. Needless to say, she still needed more practice. I allowed myself a grin before looking back up at her.

I braced myself for an oncoming attack, but there was no need to. There was no sign of any threat. Her body language screamed defeat with her slouched shoulders and slightly bent knees. Although her piercing stare never left mine as she stalked away back to her tipi. Before slapping the hide shut she gave me last look of resentment. She might have been the Elder's most prized granddaughter, but I was his granddaughter as well.

My parents had died three years ago from influenza. It was strange because they seemed to be the only ones that caught it. Even though sequestered, it still seemed odd that nobody else had gotten the deathly illness. When they were pronounced dead I was told I was too young to see the bodies. I didn't think much of it at the time. I grieved for a long while; Chive by my side.

I started hunting lessons for my first year of school and it made the pain go away. The pain did not dim by taking the life of another for the ones I lost, but because it required patience and concentration. A lot of breathing exercise were also required that I took back to the tipi with me at night. Besides, I was only learning to shoot targets then anyway. It was only this year that we started on animals and only when we were in need of food. Our tribe never wasted. We used everything down to the bones. Hunter Pierson seemed particularly fond of me. He always said that I was very talented in this area, and to be honest I think he favored me.

After my dad died; a month after my mom a witch from far away came to our lands and prophesied that I would someday, see him again. She opened her pouch and took out a bag of stones and threw them out on the grass in front of me. She gasped and said I was in for a hard and arduous life, and that I was destined by a Black Prophecy. She also prophesized that I might die at an early age. Angered, and scared of witchery, Hunter Pierson loosed his arrow right through her heart and she turned into a wisp of smoke that blew away in the wind.

The medicine woman of the tribe; Ivory Green checked me over and said a few funny words and declared that I was completely devoid of any such things and  that he wasted a perfect arrow. She then stalked off. Of course the arrow had turned into a hot, black, muck, and had to be burned which left our lands smelling putrid for several days. Over time I got over her reading of the stones. To tell the truth, I'd never quite believed them...

Ivory Green was different in every way possible. For one, she had long and curvy, milky, white fangs. Everyone around called her a vampire. If one would muster up the nerve to ask about it to one if the masters or counselors, they would say not to ask such questions, and go do your homework. Ivory green also had the palest most translucent skin that I found quite intriguing and mesmerizing at times. Her lips were a blood red hue, turned even redder with her unidentifiable smelling lipstick. That and with amber eyes made her unforgettable to anyone who would come across her path. She had a distinct mole just above the right part of her upper lip, which she frequently covered in some dark makeup to make it black and harsh. It was very unforgiving and yet innocently beautiful all the same.

She was a great person and healer, Ivory Green, she loved to heal people and take away their pain. But she was often quiet keeping to herself and persisting with her job, as most of the kids teased her away from the instructors. Ivory Green never told on them. Although I did often hear her muttering to herself about cruel little boys and ungrateful snide hooligans. When I came to visit her she would be making all sorts of salves and potions and herbal mixes. She was very kind to everyone no matter what even if it pained her, so it was her nature...

It was the same mysterious beauty that struck my older cousin Kale on my father's side. She was nineteen years old and she was the only one in the entire village with flaming, fiery, red hair. Kale had told me gently that one day when the sun died down and the lands were plastered with brown decaying leaves, she would explain the mysteries that held us from moving on. She had promised that on my eighteenth birthday she would explain the basics of our weird heritage and the oddities of the world around us. I was also told that I was not to tell another living soul or she'd loose and arrow on me.

To this very day I didn't know if she'd been serious, but I think her statement might have had possibilities since this was of course, such a big secret. I knew if she could she would do anything to save my life not destroy or end it! I knew her very well since she was the only other villager that shared my tipi, along now with Willow who was only three years old. Willow slept with Kale three nights a week because Kale was learning the pure essence of being a mother, since she was almost of age and ready to make a family of her own.

But Kale wasn't very well liked by her older peers because she was in every way... different. People were scared of her, and some were even jealous. They said she was a vampire as well because of her lucid white flesh and her "ability to blind boys into liking her because of her unnatural fake beauty." That's what the girls would say, not troubling to keep their voices low.

Well I agree she looked a lot like Ivory Green, with her complexion and her seductive curvy heart-shaped lips, and fangs. But through heritage she was still my blood and no matter what she looked like I would always love her. Her mom and dad left the tribe long ago and it is rumored that they looked exactly like her. She is watched by her own unique master.

It was the same with my other cousins, Risk, Chive, Willow and Ret. They were all blood brothers and sisters but their real birth parents had left when they were young to some far off place. It seemed odd to me that all of our parents in one way or another abandon us all so young...