Once upon a time, across a river, over a mountain, through a wood, on
the far shore of a lake, under the shade of a giant redwood, there was a
school for woodsmen.
It was the rime of year before the first snow, crisp and chill, a
contract to the leaves of maples that were at their flashiest, an echo
of the Suns far overhead.
The world wise and ancient head huntsman met his two eldest students,
there, under the reaching arms of the giant redwood, where the shadows
assembled even at midday, and he said to them these words.
�Years have you been at my side and walked in my tracks, and I have
taught you as best I know how. What you have each gained from my
teachings is in the end up to you, but the time has come for you to
leave the nest and claim the full rite of the Wood. Yet I will not give
to you my name nor blessing lest you complete this final test.
And so he gave to them a final list of things they must complete in
order to prove their knowledge.
Some of the tasks were of a simple nature. Collect honey without being
stung, pluck a tail feather from a hawk on the wing, cross a dewy meadow
without leaving a trail.
But of the many tasks, one proved a challenge to both would be huntsmen.
�Bring to me the hide of a lion slain with a single strike of blade.
Then bring to me again the same, chosen from a healthy beast, and
without trap or twang of bowstring, nor thrust of spear, nor flash of
blade, a hide unmarked by a hunters wiles.
The two students of the aged huntsman went on their way. Each brought to
their Master all he desired until finally they came to the last task.
Off they traveled, away from the shade of the giant old redwood, to the
opposite shore of the lake, through a wood, over the mountain, and
across the river.
At last they came to the lands of the great cats, endless miles of
golden grasses heated by the Suns, far from their shaded home. Each set
off to complete their task.
Yet only one ever returned to the old man who waited so far away. And at
the feet of his Master, the newly made Huntsman laid the two golden
hides. One from a beast slain with but a single slash of a blade. The
other from what had been a healthy beast, taken with no art of weaponry,
nor by pit or snare.
The old huntsman called his former student to the fire and asked him how
he had achieved his end.
The young man responded. I watched and learned the ways of the beast,
and saw that males contested hotly for territories and females. Two
males did I chose, one old, one young. The young I led to the elder, and
a great battle ensued. As the young male fell in defeat, his life lost
to the claws and fangs of the other, did I step in and with a quick
blow, finish the depleted victor. Thus in the end, they both were mine.
Penned by my hand on the 17th of Artificium, in the year 449 AD.
