Fallen

“Here is one! Here!”

They turned together to look at him as he stepped quickly to the Ford along the Stream’s edge, carrying his burden.

“Oh!” exclaimed his father, “A little one.” He stepped forward out of the line of sheep that they were bringing along through the shallow water but Akah-Nah crossed through and brought the animal, instead, straight to his brother who accepted it at once.

He was pleased to see that Habeh-Lah held the lamb close to himself in trembling hands. “Thank you, Brother,” he murmured. “Thank you.” Straightening, he turned and took a step from the Stream, putting the animal gently down upon the eastern side of the Ford where it called in its small voice and then scampered into the slowly milling flock.

“Where have you been?” interjected his father in a gruff voice.

“Out in the field,” Akah-Nah answered, panting, keeping his eyes on his brother’s back. “I saw some sheep.” Habeh-Lah paused. “Don’t know how they got separated but I followed some of them a little until I realized I’d better come here and get help instead.”

His father regarded him, frowning, but his brother turned and watched him with growing urgency.

“There are more,” said Akah-Nah, still breathing hard, “I don’t know how many.”

“Where?” said their father.

“In the grazing field. But out near its farthest edge toward the Forest. But as I say, I didn’t see exactly how many. Only they don’t know my voice. They won’t come to me.” He looked pleadingly at his brother.

Habeh-Lah shot a look at their father and Akah-Nah could see the entreaty in his light, brown eyes.

“Go,” said their father, then, “Quickly! Both of you. The Rain comes fast and it will be a Big Rain. The River will rise high again!”

Indeed, even as he spoke, Akah-Nah heard a distant rumble in the sky toward the mountains. He turned and saw that the line of darker clouds had now moved to cover more than half the sky. Far to the west, they were roiling and black.

He turned back. “Hurry, Brother! We’ve got to get to the Field!” he shouted and Habeh-Lah, without further hesitation, jumped down into the waters of the Stream and stepped swiftly through them to the other side. He followed right behind. They bolted up the short, western bank that was there at the Ford and set off as fast as they could through the grazing-field.

Behind them, he heard their mother shout to their father something about the Forest and then heard their father shout back for her and their sister to hurry and get the flock to the shelters near the Flat.

Then they were left far behind.

They pounded through the grass and he ran behind his brother. Ahead, he caught sight of the edge of the Forest for the light was failing now and he could scarcely make out the line of the trees emerging from the gloom. It began to rain, lightly, for he felt a few drops upon his face and arms. He knew that in mere moments the deluge would come and fill all the land and fields with water, which the thirsty world would drink in, especially the grain-fields.

His brother drew up short of the trees and he halted beside him. Both of them were heaving now.

“They’re not here,” panted his brother through the rising wind.

“Come on,” he said, “They must have gone into the Forest. But I bet I know where.”

Overhead, the Rain pounded the canopy of branches, making the trees seem to hiss around them. Even the bushes and undergrowth of the Forest floor seemed to move and speak with that unnatural sound. Not a little rain found its way through to fall upon Akah-Nah’s head and soon he was aware of the slickness of his back and the dampness of his garments.

He went before his brother now, through the dimness of the Forest, half-walking and half-jogging through the old leaves and needles, and a trembling had taken hold of him that he was distantly aware had nothing to do with the chill of the Rain. When they came to the lip of the depression he did not slow but rather jumped agilely down into it. When he heard his brother thud into the ground behind him without pause, he knew that the sense of urgency had not left him. And that was good.

Rushing forward a few strides along the depression’s floor, Akah-Nah stopped.

His brother exhaled and came to a halt beside him.

“There,” said Akah-Nah, pointing with his left hand, and his voice sounded strange and quaking in his own ears. He was aware that his trembling had become a shaking.

His brother squinted into the gathering gloom in the direction of his raised arm. “Are you sure?” It was a hiss above the deeper one of the Forest around them. Akah-Nah saw that he was bent over slightly, hands upon his knees, and breathing hard.

“Yes, right there,” Akah-Nah insisted. His upraised hand shook. “Can’t you see them?”

His brother took two hesitant steps forward.

“No,” he said. He shook his head. “It’s so dark…..”

Hefting the re-assuring weight in his right hand, he drew up behind the other like a shadow. “Oh, Brother!” he cried, his voice like a razor-slash through the Rain, “do your wonderful eyes truly not see?”