“I for one believe it’s an excellent idea.”  Wheat-tongue smiled over his teat at his western counterpart and placed the delicate porcelain on the table. Oh how he had missed western tea. It was impractical stuff to carry around in the east, requiring too much effort to keep properly fresh, but here in the massive stone tents of the west, it was so common that nearly every household drank it. Wheat-tongue was named for his gifts with languages, when the war with the north began three years earlier, it was he who translated the conversation between the great leaders of both nations, and he who negotiated the lasting peace the two countries enjoyed now.<br/><br/>“I would normally offer my eldest son to your daughter, he has no wife either, but I would not do you the dishonor of offering my eldest son when my second born in a named man.” When the northerners had poured out of the gap in the mountains years ago, it had been this man, this westerner, who had opened the gates of his home to Wheat-tongue’s people. He had treated them as equals and not turned them away as other western cities had, and in return the Hadju had placed his name in the war cry as the poured from the city to tear into the northern invaders. Many had died, but that was ultimately the turning of the war. For the first time Hadju warriors and western soldiers had fought side by side, the Hadju’s ferocity a perfect match to the westerners organization. Perhaps now was another time to test the collective strengths of both ways of life. “That, and Whisper will make a considerably better husband.”<br/><br/>Wheat-tongue chuckled a little to himself and took another swallow of sweet tea, savoring the flavor before continuing. “My second son is… well, a breaker of traditions, if I’m perfectly honest. Not that he disrespects the past, he simply seeks to travel the road less traveled, and often that road is at odds with my people’s more… traditional people, such as his brothers. I believe the idea will appeal to him. I doubt he’ll admit it, even to himself, but I think this path will be one he ultimately enjoys.” The old Hadju chieftain settled back in his chair and stared out across the cityscape, the setting sun turning the white stone a brilliant collection of oranges and pinks.<br/><br/>“We are blessed to see such a possibility within our lifetimes.”<br/><br/>********<br/><br/>The pool was perfectly still, the murky water looked perfectly harmless save for the faint scummy layer floating at its top. An average person wouldn’t have noticed it at all. A better hunter might have been cautious about it, after all a pool of this size could hold some dangerous animals, but ultimately left it alone. Whisper however, knew the pool held dangerous secrets, and had tracked footprints through the boggy soil for nearly a day to discover that they ended here. He quietly circled the water, his bare feet parting leaves and avoiding branches with practiced ease, his dark skin splattered with mud to help him blend in. He bit his lip as he knocked the arrow, a bad habit his brother constantly nagged him about, but now was not the time to worry about bad habits, his prey was near.<br/><br/>He circled the pool for an hour, looking for any sign of movement, any sign of change, but it was still as death and quiet as the grave. This annoyed Whisper more than anything… it was cool here, this far west, far cooler than the grasslands and forests of his home, and much damper. The water didn't leave his skin immediately, instead it clung and chilled him, making his bare toes numb and his muscles stiff. This was no way to hunt, but he had spotted the tracks and knew there was no going back now, now without his prey. He was a named man for a reason, and would uphold that name.<br/><br/>Another hour passed and Whisper was getting impatient. The beast was here, he had seen the tracks, but it was lazy and unwilling to face him. Damn this cold. He considered jumping in with a knife drawn, but knew how impossibly foolish that idea was. If the tracks were any indicator, what was in there was one of the most dangerous animals Whisper had ever hunted. Another half hour however and he was sick of waiting. At this rate he’d be stuck out here in the dark, which was usually a terrible idea, and he’d be half froze. He imagined his brothers finding him curled up and stiff as tree branch, the only way to thaw him out being to stick a spit up his arse and roast him over a fire.<br/><br/>Whipser crept to the edge of the pond and drew back his bow. After a moment he dipped his toe into the water and watched the ripples spread out and away, the duckweed and pond scum jigging gently in time to the ripples, except just to the left of where he stood, where they moved out of rhyth.<br/><br/>“Shit.” Whisper flung himself back as a huge white shape lurched from the water and snapped a bear sized snout at him. It was White! The beast’s pelt was white! He kicked backwards with his feet as he drew the bow back and let loose an arrow, striking the monster in the nose and getting an enraged roar for his troubles. The creature clambered up after him, it’s slick white fur shedding water as its rodent-like paws dug for traction in the mud. The pool might have been a good place for a nap, but it was a poor place indeed for an ambush. Whisper knocked another arrow and fired again, this one getting the monster just below the jaw. He scrambled back further as it gained enough traction to haul it’s massive bulk up out of the water, and retreated to a tree as the monster reared up and tried to take a swipe at him.<br/><br/>He only had a few arrows left, and didn’t enjoy the idea of facing this beast with his knife, so instead of letting loose another arrow to draw it further, he took careful aim as it charged him and fired for the throat. Even Whisper had to admit it was a lucky shot, the arrow passing cleanly through its windpipe and severing its jugular. The monster took one last swipe at him, then pitched forward with a groan.<br/><br/>Whisper silently circled the beast for a moment or two while it struggled for breath, perfectly aware that it was still dangerous even in this weakened state, but eventually it gasped its last breath and lay still, its big eyes glazing over. Whipser allowed himself a moment or two of silent congratulations, the smile on his face so wide in nearly hurt, then pulled out his knife and set to work dressing the carcass for transport, which he imagined would be a truly momentous task. Perhaps he’d get another name after this…<br/><br/>Whipser had only dared to hope when he had first spotted the tracks. He had never even seen an Al-gui in person, only heard stories about the elusive beasts, but as his brothers often said, “Whisper of the Wind will chase a rabbit halfway to the north just to see what color it was.”<br/><br/>He didn’t disagree with them. Though they said it in jest and returned to their work after a hearty laugh, Whisper would wander off and see things, and the more he saw things, the more he knew how to do other things. And the more he knew how to do, the more the women looked at him with smiles and the more forced his brothers’ laughs became. Let them laugh at this. The Al-gui was bigger than anything he had ever heard of in the stories. The Hadju used Al-gui bones and liver to treat several rare diseases, but actually finding one of the beasts was hard, and killing it was even more so, so the demand for such thing was only really high when someone important was sick. Westerners however, coveted the Al-gui’s pelt, which was soft, strong and waterproof. Whipser had seen a westerner trade a ratty old Al-gui pelt for a horse the last time he had been in a western city, a good horse. A white pelt though? He could trade this for the world… He could trade for the fastest, strongest horse in the west. He could march up to the man with the big gold hat and ask for his chair in exchange for such a fine pelt.<br/><br/>What Whipser hadn't counted on when he had been tracking the Al-gui, was how he was going to get the majority of it back to camp, which was more than a day away by now. He gutted it and carved out the less useful parts of the monster, but still it weighed as much as he did. He cut more, but it was still way too heavy for one man.<br/><br/>Finally, with the threat of night creeping up on him he skinned the beast, cut the heart and liver out, pulled its teeth to give to the shamans, and left the rest of the corpse for the forest denizens to finish. Call it his sacrifice to the great sky hunter for such a rare beast. His howling children would feast well tonight.<br/><br/>It was midday before Whisper spotted the nomads ahead in the distance. They were on their way to a western city, the name of which Whisper had never learned the western word for. After the western chief had opened the great doors to Whisper's tribe when the Northmen invaded, the Hadju had always called the place Haven. They had even made the western chief a Named Man, and called him Gatekeeper, a name that hadn’t been used since the dark times before the council. Whipser’s father, Wheat-tongue, was friends with the man and went to visit Gatekeeper in his stone house for a few weeks every year. Whisper’s tribe would arrive a few days later and trade spices and pelts in town while Wheat-tongue and Gatekeeper did whatever chiefs do. Whisper often used the time as an excuse to go hunting alone, the press of the stone buildings made him claustrophobic, but not this time. This time he had a pelt to trade.<br/><br/>The caravan had stopped for the evening, giving Whisper enough time to catch up while being slowed by the pelt. As he struggled into the firelight, heads rose from bowels and conversation stopped as he flopped the pelt onto a blanket and flopped himself down next to it. “Whisper, what in the name of the gods have you killed this time?” Whisper smiled up as the tribe crowded closer and unrolled the massive pelt across the blanket.<br/><br/>“What is it?”<br/><br/>“By the great hunter, that’s an Al-gui! A<em>White</em>Al-gui!” There was excited chatter as the tribe pressed closer, all peering to get a better look at the huge pelt. Whisper passed the organs and teeth he had collected to one of the shammen and stretched out across the massive fur like a satisfied cat, basking in the glow of admiration from his people.<br/><br/>“When we get to the Western city, I’m going to trade this for a horse better than Black Toes’!” Black Toes was a favorite legend among the Hadju, a Hadju warrior who had gone to the north to fight, only to lose all her toes to frostbite. Instead of giving up like most might have, Black Toes learned how to fight on horseback and became a legend. It is said that she was the one who brought the secret of mounted combat to the Hadju.<br/><br/>Whisper was aware that someone was standing in his fame, and opened his eyes to see Tul-mar, his oldest brother, standing at the edge of his pelt, Whisper’s other brothers gathered around him like chicks around a hen. “Too bad Whisper, seems an eagle has a turtle for you!”(someone else has plans that will ruin the ones you've made) Tul-mar roared in laughter, and his brothers did the same.<br/><br/>Whisper gave his brothers an annoyed frown and sat up on his pelt. “Who’s this eagle?”<br/><br/>“Father, he send Gotro back with a message this morning.” Whisper sneered. He didn’t have anything against Gotro personally, but he was exceptionally jealous of Gotro’s horse, which he had stole from a Northern soldier during the war.<br/><br/>“And, the turtle?”<br/><br/>“Seems Gatekeeper needs someone to marry his daughter, and father thinks you’d look quite pretty all dressed up like a western gentleman!” Presented to him in another way, Whisper might have seen the merit in the idea. Presented to him by his jealous older brother, as the butt of a joke, in front of his entire tribe, Whisper was not quite so welcoming. Tul-mar caught a punch to the underside of his jaw that snapped his mouth shut and sent a painful shock through his teeth. He barely had time to get out of the way before another blow whizzed past his ear. Tul-mar threw a hard right hook, but Whisper, who had done a lot more fist-fighting, caught in and used it to throw Tul-mar off balance.<br/><br/>The tribe backed away from the two brothers, who fought often with words, and frequently with fists, and let them get to it. Eventually Tul-mar would land a lucky blow, or Whisper would wear his older brother down, or the two of them would fight and fight until neither one had the strength to stand. Whisper’s other brothers would sometimes intervene, but often times they simply stayed out of the way, and tried to keep the two from killing each other.<br/><br/>Eventually the fighting settled down into enraged insults flung across the campfire, then to nothing but angry snoring as the two brothers ran out of words and strength.