Chapter 3.
The warmth of the dawn light tickled Jakob's cheeks waking him. Yawning and rubbing his eyes he got up out of his blankets to stretch. The air was fresh, crisp and quite cold. Glinting in the sunlight, ice coated the surface of the tower. After a quick breakfast, Jakob started to pack up his campsite. Clipping the hupoks to his waist, Jakob began the walk back home. Following the trail back home, Jakob took his time walking slowly. Walking was relaxing and easy, in the daylight the trail was as clear as a signpost.
As Jakob reached the outskirts of Hukapa, he noticed the typical signs of daily life. Wooden buildings, their timber frames standing sturdy against the chill, formed a network of homes. Thatched roofs, separated by wisps of smoke from chimneys, created a picturesque scene against the snowy backdrop.
Jakob, out of habit, kept to the shadows, navigating through the village with the quiet grace of a seligá. The village resonated with the echoes of daily life—donkeys braying, parents scolding, and the distant sounds of village activities. The aftermath of the Festival of Harewaka lingered in the air. Small piles of charcoal lay where fireworks had been lit, the smell of smoke graced the background and a massive pile of ash marked the spot where the canoe had been set ablaze the day before. Unconsciously, Jakob touched the slim silver necklace around his neck, a quiet gesture of emotion tied to the memories of last night.
As he walked, Jakob overheard snippets of conversations. Villagers chatted about the festival, sharing tales and laughter. However, Jakob decided to stay out of their way. His memories and experiences were too different to many of the people in the village. How could they relate? He preferred the solitude of his thoughts and the quiet journey home.
Jakob reached the edge of the village, continuing north he headed to a longhouse that was placed just past the outskirts of the village. Walking down a stone pebble path, Jakob reached the door. The welcoming wooden door was wide open and from inside the house Jakob heard the telltale sound of a knife cutting through bone. Smiling to himself he knocked on the door frame and announced that he was home. The thumping ceased, and his cousin walked into view. Asta walked with a grin, bandages wrapped around her hands.
Asta was a couple of years older than Jakob and walked like she found joy in the smallest of things. A smile often lit her face which was frequently stained with dirt, or dust despite her father's best efforts. Her hair was a dark raven, beaded braids tucked behind her ears pinned her hair back out of her face. Despite wearing a leather apron that had multiple small streaks of blood across it, a pair of hupoks still hung from Asta's hips.
"You're back. How was the view?" she said, a mischievous glint in her eye, nodding towards the tower.
"It was peaceful," Jakob said with a grin, playing along. "Peaceful because I didn't have to listen to you." Asta burst into laughter and gave Jakob a gentle punch on the shoulder.
"Careful, keep saying that and I might just make Dad tell you to clean out the stables." Jakob chuckled, swiftly changing the topic.
Pointing at the bandages on her hands, he asked, "What happened there?" Asta leaned in, her eyes dancing with amusement.
"I was with Thalia last night, and one of the sailors had a bit too much to drink, and, well…" She paused dramatically, her smile widening. "He asked to marry me." She laughed, pretending to swoon.
Continuing with a laugh, she said, "I may have laughed in his face at his offer, and, well, he took it the wrong way. The man said that I had destroyed his honour, and... ah." She paused with a grin, "He tried to hit me." Turning to make eye contact with Jakob, she revealed a mischievous glint in her eyes.
"So I broke his nose and may have dislocated his jaw."
Jakob nodded knowingly, "The classic tale of sailors not really understanding us. They really should learn not to propose after a few too many drinks." He chuckled, thinking of similar incidents he had heard about.
Jakob had heard similar story's multiple times. This was a lesson many foreign whalers and sailors had found out the hard way. While Asta was fairly attractive, she was also a Makanor hunter. This was different to many of the regular hunters elsewhere in the world for one small reason. However, this little reason had huge implications.
Unlike everywhere else in the world, for some reason, magic was incredibly rare in Makanor. Whether it was due to the environment or something else, no mages stayed long in Makanor and no one born in Makanor had the ability to use magic. However, the wild creatures were still as fierce in Makanor as they were in the lands down south, and the Hunters had to learn how to hunt the same creatures without using magic.
Chosen when they were young, the hunters had to train for many years to hunt and lead dangerous prey away from the villages in Makanor. Jakob had done much of the same training which was part of the reason he was confident in walking around the mountains after dark. However, unlike Asta, he was still in training and lacked many of the skills and knowledge that she knew.
As Jakob and Asta entered the longhouse, the air was thick with the enticing aroma of roasting meat. The savoury scent of a meaty stew mixed with the subtle smokiness from the long stone fire pit, creating an irresistible fragrance that enveloped the room. The wooden benches were adorned with sheepskin coverings, their natural scent adding an earthy warmth to the air.
In the dimly lit room, the flickering flames of oil lamps cast dancing shadows on the walls. The long stone fire pit in the centre crackled, releasing a comforting warmth that contrasted with the crisp chill outside. The ash-stamped wooden floor absorbed the echoes of their footsteps.
Along the back wall, a thin shelf displayed an array of small trinkets and artefacts. Among them, the skull of a hukagórn, the first solo kill Asta ever made, held a place of honour. The massive creature's skull served as a testament to her skill as a Makanor hunter, its icy gaze frozen in time. Small pots and utensils, each with its own story, adorned the shelf—a collection of memories and cultural artefacts that spoke of the village's history.
Against the back wall, the folded trestle table hinted at untold stories and gatherings yet to come. Its presence, like a silent observer, added a touch of mystery to the room. The juxtaposition of the warm, inviting smells and the cool, shadowed atmosphere created a space that felt both familiar and full of untold tales, a reflection of the rich cultural tapestry woven within the walls of the longhouse.
"Ready for tomorrow?" Asta questioned, referring to Jakob's birthday.
"I don't know," said Jakob, anxious at what tomorrow would bring. How could he be ready when the entire day would just remind him about his mother… or his lack of one. Thinking quickly, concealing his thoughts, Jakob asked his cousin a question about one of Hukapas oldest coming of age ceremonies.
"How sore is the Tuhianav?" He asked for probably the hundredth time that month. He was referring to the massive shoulder and sleeve tattoo-like enchantment that had been magically placed onto, and into, all the people in Makanor that had come of age.
"Asta laughed and said, 'It's not that bad.' However, Jakob was unsure if she was telling the truth or lying for his benefit.
'I've heard a rumour about the Tuhianav,' Jakob said as he leant against the wall of the longhouse.
'Go on,' indicated Asta, a smile starting to grow.
Jakob asked, "Is it true that the animal the Tuhianav is based on, in some way represents us?" Before Asta could reply, he continued talking.
"So, you have a hukagórn Tuhianav," Jakob stated, referring to the ice bear tattoo-like enchantment that wrapped around Asta's neck and shoulders.
"If the Tuhianav represents us, what does that mean? And…" he paused and asked a question that had been on his mind for quite a long time, "Do you know what my Tuhianav will be?"
Asta laughed, "You are really worried about this, aren't you." She sighed as she saw Jakob cautiously nod, "The Tuhianav is not just a symbol; it's a source of power for hunters. We draw strength and resilience from the animals we are connected to."
"That's right. I almost forgot about Bjari's Tuhianav," Jakob admitted, remembering that Bjaris' enchantment was not based on any animal but had been based upon pattern work designed by his parents.
"And finally, yes. I think I know what yours will be. I overheard Bjari, Kusta, and Ingolf talking about what it's going to be," she said, talking about her father, the painter and the leader of the Makanor hunters.
'What will it be? What is it?' Jakob pleaded. But no matter what he said, Asta wouldn't budge and wouldn't reveal any more."
Noticing his uncle wasn't with them he asked, "Where is Bjari? Is he chopping firewood?" Asta shook her head.
"No," replied Asta. "He was complaining about his knee during Harewaka, so I persuaded him to head into town to buy some herbs or salves. Anything to make him stop complaining."
Jakob nodded, that was his uncle, working despite his injuries.
"He should be back soon, he left quite early this morning."
As if luck was smiling upon them, the two of them heard the sound of heavy footsteps crunching on the path outside. The door creaked open as Jakobs uncle, Astas father, stepped into the house.
Bjari was a large man whose stature spoke of a lifetime of hard work. His raven hair, streaked with proud grey, framed a face weathered by the elements. Scarred and calloused fingers spoke of a laborious life spent tending to the land. Despite the toil, there was a kindness in his eyes that spoke volumes about the love he held for his family.
"You're back," His uncle's deep, comforting voice resonated.
"Aye," Jakob replied wearily, "I just arrived." Bjari nodded, with a silent acknowledgment.
"Acantha and the rest of the traders will be arriving tomorrow." Bjari said, avoiding talking about the festival, knowing how touchy of a topic it would be for Jakob.
Excitement lit up Jakob's face, and the warm glow from the house seemed to extend to his expression. Acantha, a family friend who had taken an active role in Jakob and Asta's upbringing, was more than just a trader. Her visits were a respite from the routine, a source of joy in Jakob's life. Her kindness and genuine interest in their well-being made her presence a welcome one, turning the simple act of trade into a celebration of family and community.
"Aren't they early?" He said incredulously, hoping they weren't saying it as a joke, "They were here only a couple of months ago." His uncle nodded.
"That they were, it seems like they are trying to beat the middle of winter" he assured Jakob.
Another question entered Jakob's mind, afraid of the answer, he cautiously asked it.
"What about my Tuhianav? Will I still be able to get the enchantment?" Worry etched Jakob's face, to be an adult from Makanor without a Tuhianav was an insult to the people of Makanor and to the way their people lived.
His uncle nodded, "Don't worry, I've talked to Kusta, he says we can still go to get it tomorrow afternoon." As Bjari spoke, relief flooded into Jakob and he started to relax.
"Perfect," Jakob replied, happy with the outcome. "Thank you, can you tell me what my Tuhianav will be?" he asked as he looked into Bjari's eyes. Bjari snorted and laughed.
"You will just have to wait until tomorrow," He said smiling.
"Fine," said Jakob, slightly annoyed. Biding his uncle and cousin goodnight he headed to his room, nervously excited about what tomorrow would bring. Before he lay on his mattress, as a night time ritual Jakob made sure to take off his necklace and place it on his bedside table. Sleep as usual came slowly to Jakob, and it was not until the early hours of morning when his eyes finally closed.