Shar paid Arn a visit, late one afternoon. His presence, or that of Onolan, or another hunter named Panatt—they seemed to be around him always now. On hunts, one of the three was nearby all the time. And when he left his hut, he spotted them. There had not been any in-fighting since Thalla and Shar fought, while Arn lay on the sickbed. But the simmering discontent had almost started to boil.
The rebellious hunter found Arn in the shack the Chief Hunter had made north of the village. It was within view of the settlement, but lower on the cliffs. A gradual slope led down to the water, which is why he had chosen this location.
“So, why are you building this?” Shar asked, when Arn let him enter the shack through the wide animal hide doorway.
They stood on either side of a large raft. It was not complete yet, Arn had to add a few more layers of wood and reeds, then lather it in mud and animal paste, to seal it. Then, after more than half a month of work, he’d have built something quite similar to the boats the fishers used.
“So we can hunt on Scoa,” Arn said.
Shar looked at him quizzically. “Why? We have enough to hunt here.”
Arn gave him a dry look, and then continued hammering the mathhar bough he had been working on. The angled stone mallet he used chipped away the twigs and branches with ease, and he tried to ignore the watching eyes of the hunter.
“That’s a dangerous voyage. That’s not a duel, or poison. You might be invincible to those, but to the Deep itself?” Shar asked. “I won’t go on this boat, Chief. None of us will.”
“I will. And when I cross to Scoa, I’ll bring you back some creature I find there and make you eat it raw,” Arn said.
“Our hunts are successful, because Thalla is keeping track of the animals on Razaad well,” Shar said. “How long will you let her be Chief? She’s a woman. She should be weaving baskets and shaving pelts.”
“Careful,” Arn said, standing up. Shar stepped back. Arn stood facing him a moment, and then leaned back against the table. He would have to kill Shar, and probably his friends too. Not yet though. “I’ve completed my responsibilities for the day. Twilight is mine to spend how I please.”
Shar smirked and stepped toward the door. “At least you have heard my concerns,” he said, quietly, and brushed past the animal hide. Arn glimpsed smoke from the evening campfires, rising above the structures in the main settlement.
Arn had bound the rear vertex of his raft today, but wanted to secure it more. From a crate he had made, he picked up a wound tether of animal sinew. He reopened the jar of yellow reed peat on his workbench and soaked the sinew rope in it. After a few minutes, the strands were thoroughly varnished and he began to wind the tarred rope around the support struts on the outside of the raft frame. Over the new few days, he’d pile on more wood and mud to thicken the deck of the watercraft, so the frame had to be durable.
He finished his task later that hour, and then walked down to the waterfront to wash his hands. He was getting hungry and it was time to join his sisters and brothers for the evening meal. When he finished drying his arms and hands on his tunic, he turned to walk toward the settlement again—a man, standing higher up the hill, quickly disappeared below the curve of the slope. Another hunter watching him… Arn clenched his fists and marched into town.