The warrior had gone into battle before, but this time it was different. His favorite wife had given birth to a son in the spring and now his gurgling and laughter filled their shelter with something that was every bit as warm as the fire in the hearth. This warmth made the prospect of death, even a glorious warrior’s death, seem like a cold prospect indeed. For this reason, he had come to consult with his tribe’s oracle.
What could a barren old woman know about the ways of life, never having had the spark of creation ignite the seed of life within her belly? Still, she had predicted the birth of his son and the death of his grandfather and the vacillation of the seasons which brought game into the range of their spear points. Perhaps these visions were the children bestowed upon her by the great creator to make up for mouths that would never suckle at her breast.
“Did you bring what I asked?” the crone rasped.
“Yes.”
“Give me the token of that which you love the most.” He handed her a dark lock of hair, shorn from his son’s head that very morning.
“Give me the token of your darkest fear.” He handed her some splinters from the broken spear shaft of Elrad, a warrior who did not come back from battle.
“What knowledge do you seek?”
“Will I return from battle with the clam-eaters of the North?”
She burned the offerings he had brought and carefully examined the smoke as it rose in gray spiraling swirls toward the bright light that marked the hole in her roof.
“You will return,” she intoned in a faraway voice that was not quite her own.
The warrior fought vigorously, secure in the knowledge that he would return safely to his son. His valiant efforts turned the tide of the battle towards victory. He heard his comrades shout his name like a mantra.
More than the physical pain, he felt a sense of betrayal when the clam-eater’s arrow pierced his neck through and through, spilling his brave blood all over the ground. Once the enemy was vanquished, his fellow warriors carried his body on his shield all the way back to the village.
Literature in Small Doses 