LIFE CYCLE
A seed from a divine source, the tree it grows into, and the demon that follows.
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THIRTY YEARS AGO, AS THE SUN SET
Prau Sa Pritiya danced. Her chest shivered, her hips swayed—she so stirred the god of hunters that he shook his house of sky.
That night there was a meteor shower: the stars fell, and set the forest afire. That night the god of hunters fell in love with Prau Sa Pritiya.
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STAR SEED
Divine milt. Freshly spilt, it burns hot as a furnace. Any tool forged in its heat comes alive: able to speak and move of their own volition.
After three days the stuff has cooled enough to touch. A star seed fits in the palm of your hand. A fruit with firescale-like skin; glowing flesh inside.
Peel, eat. It is chewy and sweet and seedless. You will give birth to a child, on the next full moon. If you don’t have a womb, this will be fatal.
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THIS EVENING, ON THE MUDDY ROAD
Feet squelching to a six-count rhythm, rung by skin drums. The whole village marches behind a litter: borne by six men, bearing Lady Hind Eye.
Her eyes are two citrines. Her skin is wood. She wears an aureole of antlers. They promenade her now, at rains’ end, so the deer know to start fawning.
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LADY HIND EYE
God of fortune, god of finding, god of deer.
They fell as star seeds. Her sisters were eaten by animals, and became animals themselves. Only she was swallowed by the ground. She became a tree.
The brush surrounding her is littered with antlers. Stags leave them as gifts—thanking their aunt for finding them a mate.
She stands in a niche, carved into her trunk. She does not speak, but always listens; she knows all that happens in the forest. Her niblings are hopeless gossips.
Offering: A bunch of lychees. A fistful of fertilizer.
Blessing: For a day, Lady Hind Eye smiles at any statement you make about her forest that she knows to be true.
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TEN YEARS HENCE, WHERE A FOREST ONCE STOOD
Winged insects swarm your lantern. Cricket song ceases. In its absence you notice a rustling: on the ground, all over; under your feet.
A sting on your ankle. Another. A bite between your toes. You stumble to the nearest rock, try to brush off this assault. This is when you see him.
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THE MAN MADE OF EARTH
When a sacred tree is felled, and a termite nest consumes its stump, that nest eats pulp and grievance and becomes a mound demon.
Mud in the shape of a man. Moves the same way a mountain range does, in animations made to illustrate tectonic shift: geography sped up.
Civilisation is a house built to shelter us from nature, from time. The mound demon’s sole appetite is to bring houses down.
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MOUND DEMON
Hiding, bargaining, sabotaging. Punch (d6). Mud flesh (1 armour). 12 luck.
Light sources become crowded by alate termites whenever a mound demon is nearby. Disintegrates any single piece of worked wood to dust at a touch.
Once per turn: may spit a baby-sized glob of glue as far as a knife throw. If hit you are stuck fast; you will need help and time to get free.
Once per turn: may cover a trunk-wide patch of ground in a bitey mass of soldier termites; d4 damage every turn you end there.
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( Image sources:
https://bctkpd.com/2019/07/24/3335/
https://www.channelnewsasia.com/asia/indonesia-bogor-gong-workshop-dying-craft-3262456
https://amoghavarshaiaskas.in/sambar-deer/
https://mytravelindonesia.com/travel-agency-bali-indonesia/travel-guide/the-significance-of-the-banyan-tree-in-balinese-culture/
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Macrotermes_carbonarius
https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/alarming-sonar-results-show-glaciers-may-be-melting-faster-than-we-expected/
https://warisanpetani.blogspot.com/2018/12/mb-67-busut-jantan.html )
A Dream About Deer
This morning, I am dreaming, and in my dream Sharon and I are making dinner.
This is when I hear our cats yowling from the porch, so I rush to the front door, to chase away whatever stray they are picking fights with.
I find a pair of deer on our porch. The buck has antlers and is breathing in snorts. Our cats rush inside.
“Oh my god,” I say, and try to shut the door.
The buck puts a hoof on the doorstep, and pushes with his snout – not a forceful shove, but unyielding: immovable animal obstinacy; it surprises me. I stumble, fall back. The door bursts open with a crack.
“What’s going on?” Sharon asks. She has come to see what is happening. The buck has both front leg through our door.
“Go!” Sharon says. “Back!”
The buck screams. “Eeh heeh eeh,” it says. It butts her in the arm. Sharon falls. The buck is crying, wheezing over her.
“Eeh heeh eeh.”
Behind him, the doe pushes her head through the doorway, screaming also.
Sharon is on the floor, her arms up, guarding her face. I swing the door on the buck’s legs. It is still screaming.
“Eeh heeh eeh,” the doe says.
Again and again I slam the door on the buck; a sick smacking of meat. It takes a step back, begins to retreat. The glass of our front door rattles in the frame. I am so afraid it will break.
Sharon is helping me now. We smash the door on the doe’s cheek. It pulls out. At last, at last – our door is shut. Sharon latches it.
The glass rattles. I watch the buck’s nose leave snot trails on its surface, like messy calligraphy strokes.
Our cats are yowling. Sharon looks at her bruised arm.
I know that, from its size, the way it shoved me – the deer need only kick once. The glass would shatter. They would be able to enter.
Neither the buck nor doe do so. They mash their noses against the glass of the door. They scream: “Eeh heeh eeh.” But do not break in.
They seem to be waiting. Exercising restraint. That worries me, most of all, and worries me so much I start awake.
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( Image source: http://tembakgagak.blogspot.com/2015/02/pantang-larang-si-pemburu.html
The link is actually worth reading:
“ ‘Once I shot a sambar deer that refused to budge from its place. Seven shots I fired, and it did not run. And every time I shot it, its body leaked smoke,’ he insisted.
He hunted the same deer the next night. His friend, unsatisfied, wanted to test his own hunting skill. As soon as they found signs of the deer in the area, Tok Yaman’s friend prepared to shoot it down.
‘However, every time he wanted to pull the trigger, my friend felt a great urge to take a shit. This sort of delay happened, over and over, and all the deer did was watch us from where it was,’ Tok Yaman said, laughing a little.” )
