green_005034

# Document — Anothen/.gemini/tmp/apps/tool-outputs/session-2834ac85-277d-41eb-9df1-483069fa296b/run_shell_command_1773276456734_0.txt

Output: Buulnayzh waited with terrible anxiety for the return of his son.  He kept tugging unconsciously on the hood of his leather parka and glancing out through the trees to see if the movement he’d caught out of the corner of his eye was his child returning.  Young Zhakari had always been rather inept, gifted with intelligence if lacking in wisdom, but was utterly devoid of any hunting skill.  It wasn’t due as much to his lack of trying as it was to the fact that he was simply born with the hunting prowess of a dandelion and the trapping skill of a spider plant (We think we’re ok with the English proper plant names used to communicate Veezhavai thought – weapons like atlatls are Zhangheen, yet no problem expressing that, but…something about using proper plant names bothers me – can’t put my finger on it.  May or may not keep this – gotta love the play on words though – lion and spider).  Years of dedication (if drifting off into daydreams while trying to learn how to use an atlatl poison a blow dart (atlatls probably used by the plains zhangheen, the zhanthawgheen, blowpipes by the zhandugheen?  Yes, this is correct.) or aim a bow counted as dedication) had failed to improve his talents, and neither disappointment from his father nor chiding from the other children had changed that; at least, not until the last month or so.  The boy had obviously become infatuated with sweet little Weezhwoe, and since his right to seek a wife was dependent on his success in this hunt, his interest in becoming a true hunter had developed considerably there at the very end.  His father hoped it hadn't developed too late.  The boy had finally reached his thirteenth year and it was time for him to prove he was a capable member of the Binzhmai faction, a hunterRarely does a boy return from his Hulwaya, his rite of manhood, in the first day.  Zhakari was no different.  Unfortunately for his father, it was not the second day of his Hulwaya either, nor the third.  Nor the fourth.  In all the history of the Binzhmai faction there was no tale of a child that hadn’t returned, but by the morning of the fifth day, Buulnayzh had begun to fear that his son had come to a horrible end.  It wouldn’t be the first time in the history of the Zhandugheen people, just the first time for Faction Binzhmai.  Buulnayzh tugged at his parkaA Hulwaya consisted of one simple challenge; kill and bring back to the faction enough food to gift every member a meal.  For faction Binzhmai this usually entailed shooting one deer or boar, or trapping five to ten rabbits or the like.  The faction was loose in its rules as to what consisted of a meal, at least when it came to Hulwayas, and so even the most clumsy of children had a relatively easy time establishing their place as a man.  Buulnayzh whispered to himself, “Be firm of foot and hit the There was movement in the brush, the sound of bushes rustling.  In the chill early morning darkness, Buulnayzh tried to make his low-light vision work better, as if peering harder, focusing more, would cause it to become more effective, but he could not, at first, make out what worked its way through the trees.  Then his son came into sight, a hefty carcass dragging behind him on a makeshift leather stretcher, constructed of branches and the boy’s cloak, and his father let out a loud, shaking sigh o“Zhakari,” he exclaimed as he worked his way quickly to where the boy was at – er, man was at – to help him with his burden, “my belly nearly fell out behind me for the sinking in me.  Why The boy dropped the end of the stretcher he was dragging and turned on his father.  “The hunt!  The hunt took me so many days, apa!  Did I not bring you the faction meal?  Have I not taken my standing amongst the men?  My heart would have leaped to have brought I hungered to bring you the meal the first day. shown you that I am a man equal to Gezhma.  The eyes of my heart see that you hungered for it too, yes?  Instead, you mock me, as all the others do?  Then you would have had no lack, yes, instead of mocking me just like as all the others?  Wh...why do you even begin to ASK such a the question?  You have no view of wherHis son screamed, “JUST DON'T SPEAK TO ME. BITE YOUR TONGUE!  LWhat was this?  In all his life Buulnayzh had never seen his soft-spoken son in such a state.  He was startled and caught off guard.  This was a day of celebration, not conflict, the pinnacBuulnayzh found himself flushed and defensive.  “I – I was not laughing.”  The brown speckles on the white blotches of his skin turned almost black as the swathes of tan darkened.  The tan blotches of his skin turned darker, the brown speckles on the white speckled brown almost black.  The boy seemed fatigued, but didn't appear to be injured, and the father naturally sought for some clue, something to tell him the story of his child's distress, his eyes falling on the body of his son's hunt.  It was hefty, something to be proud of, but - skinless and headless?  An abrupt, inexplicable fear washed over him, and he suddenly felt sicker more sick than when he thought his son might have died.  Something felt desperately wrong.  “My son, what fell upoZhakari bent and picked up the end of the stretcher again and heaved forward.  He didn’t answer his father, his weary body staggering for just a moment as he worked to get the stretcher moving again with the weight of his kill heavy upon it, and then trudged toward the faction camp.  His father instinctively reached to help, but then pulled back.  He didn't know if his offer would be taken well or poorly, not to mention that it would look better for the boy if he carried the kill into camp on his own.  He didn’t see his son’s eyes well up with tears nor hear thHere start looking to how you can improve the feel.  Last time you read this next paragraph, it didn't draw you in – seemed a little abrupt.  You might just re-write this paragraph and pickIt was to be a day of festivities.  The light of morning had just crested the horizon, and the more dedicated men of the faction had gathered at the heart of camp to sing the Hylothoy, the song of the risen sun.  As their voices, deep and thrumming, rose into the cold morning air, their song awakened the camp and summoned one and all to the day's work, the men to theirs outside the camp, the women to theirs inside.  The lyrics sang of separation; just as the rising sun instructs light to separate from shadow, so the words instructed the dividing of the women from the men (If you haven't already, the first time you mention the hylaytha be sure to note that it is a song of uniting - done).  Women and children came to the entryways of their shelters and lifted the flap that served as a door, many of the little ones still rubbing sleep out of their eyes - a few of the elderIt was to be a day of festivities, though the camp didn’t know it yet.  The orange rays of early morning reached through the mottled shadows of the forest and into faction Binzhmai, where it found the more dedicated men gathered at its center, ready to sing the Hylothoy, the song of the risen sun.  Their voices, deep and thrumming, began to rise into the cold morning air, reaching through the walls of leather and woven, living, branches, roots and vines that composed the tents of the camp, and to the pointed ears of the mottled-skinned Zhandugheen people sleeping within.  The lyrics sang of separation; just as the rising sun instructs light to separate from shadow, so the words instructed the dividing of the women from the men.  Mothers and their children came to the entryways of their shelters and lifted the flap that served as a door, many of the little ones still rubbing sleep out of their eyes - a few of the elder ones too.  The beat of the tune began slowly, drowsily, but as it continued, it gathered speed.  Other men, latecomers, joined the circle, adding their voices, and the volume grew, the song building in intensity.  Many of the more alert members of the faction, men, women and children alike, began to clap along as their spirits became more invigorated, and still more joined, stomping their feet, some beginning to dance with the mounting vigor.  Up the song rose, as it did every morning, until the power of its harmony reached a final, towering crescendo that brought goosebumps to the arms of many and hung like golden, warming mist in theAs if on queue, as the Hylothoy came to its end, into camp came Zhakari, the headless, skinless carcass dragging behind him.  As he was spotted, a cheer went up from those who saw him first, which was soon caught and carried by the whole camp as he trudged exhaustedly brought his kill to the center for all to see.  The circle of men at the heart of the camp parted, smiles and congratulations abounding, and Zhakari dropped his kill next to the stones that served as a boundary to the large central fire pit.  The men came forward, laughing, slapping him on the back, but Zhakari hardly seemed to notice them.  Instead, he pushed forward, working his way through until he was able to peer arHe was looking for one girl in particular, one place to hold on to sanity.  Was Weezhwoe here now?  What if she wasn't watching, didn't care, didn't come out to see?  His mouth was suddenly so dry.  Well, even if she wasn't, that didn't mean she didn't care, only that she...who was he kidding?  If she wasn't there, if she wasn't watching, then all this had been...  No!  Please!  His mind balked.  Days of physical, mental and emotional exhaustion suddenly caught up with him, now that he was back in camp, and it showed on his face because the men closest to him reached out to catch him just before his legs buckled and he dropped to his knees.  There were voices, concerned but distant to him, speaking in a jumble, the world seeming to shimmer and sparkle – and then, as his head rolled to the side, through the fWeezhwoe, tiny for her nearly 13 years, had been caring for her fevered mother in their home, cooling her forehead with wet moss when she heard all the commotion begin as the hylothoy ended.  When the men began cheering and calling out Zhakari’s name, though she knew her mother would disapprove, she couldn’t help but come to the shelter door; but when she saw him, pale, staggering, black circles under his eyes, her focus immediately left her mother and centered on him.  Out the door she ran to get to him as he collapsed.  She reached to mop his forehead with the moist moss meant for her mother, and as his half-shut eyes saw her, they sprung wide open, a smile spreading across his face so bright and strong that, for a split second, it erased the eFrom behind her, she heard her mother’s voice, piercing like a knife through the wave of congratulations.  “Weezhwoe?!  You geShe quickly patted Zhakari’s hand, and then obediently hurried She was halfway hiding behind her mother, but when she saw him, his eyes obviously seeking her out, she smiled the sweetest smile in the world, and stepped around to wave at him.  Her mother quickly reached out and caught her daughter with a frown of disapproval, but Zhakari's heart suddenly soared.  He smiled back at her, all the fear washing away and with it the fog and theFor Zhakari, the voices of the men came through loud and clear now.  “Ho there, someone get the boy a seat.”  “Bring that stool.”  “Are you alright?”  “Will your feet support you?” “Here – take some water.”  “Easy now.”  “The running is over now.”  “Give the boy some room, would you?”  “Step back and let him take Zhakari used the hands holding him to help him up to his feet once again.  He didn't say a word to them, only stared at Weezhwoe, the one only person who mattered now, a numb sort of peace washing over him.  For a second the look of trauma and disorientation in his face melted away, and there was nothing but her beautiful Weezhwoe's eyes and face smile.  Her smile, so cute and delicate, soft and comforting, inviting and without mockery oThen someone stepped between him and her, their line of sight was broken, and the rest of the camp began to come back into focus.  “Keep him up, now.  Where's that stool?”  “His feet are not yet firm beneath him.  Bring that stool.”  “Looks like you did great, little zhanoy.”  “My heart leaps with yours, little zhanoy.”  “No, can't sit just yet.  Here come the zhandupoy and zhanduma.”  “Leave the stool and stay upright.  The zhandupoy anThe faction leaders, the patriarch over the males and the matriarch over the females, came forward together, both smiling happily and stood on either side of the young man.  Ooluōzh, the patriarch, took his left hand, Tathik, the matriarch, took his right, and together lifted them skyward in a gesture of triumph.  The whole camp cheered again then, and came forward to crowd a“The trees fall and the earth swallow them up down, Zhakari!  None of us saw this as the ending,” laughed his friend Eenat who had just gone through the celebration a month ago.  “Can your heart support it?  Do your feet stand upon it?”  He whooped loudly.  “And look at the kill!  It’s enormous bountiful!  Where’s the head and pelt?  A boar that size of that weight must have Ūlfawa, another friend of his, clapped him firmly on the shoulder.  “A man now!  You’re a man!  When I looked ahead, I did not see this as the end.  Congratulations!  (There’s cause to keep this, because ‘cheering’ and ‘merry’ are Hebrew, but do you waZhakari didn’t answer either of them, nor did he respond to any of the other congratulations with anything more than a weak noToday would be a day of celebration jubilation, and the whole faction was alive with excitement.  While the men congratulated patted Zhakari on the back, the women of the tribe faction, overseen by the matriarch, gathered around the meat, talking excitNow, Tathik, the matriarch of the faction, was an intelligent woman.  She could see plainly that something was very wrong here.  When raising the young man’s hand, it had been limp as a dead snake.  In addition, in all her years she had yet to see a Hulwaya finish with a skinned, headless animal.  Not that there was any firm and fast rule about how whole the creature had to be, but the pelt was, without fail, turned into a young man’s outfit, used to make sheathes for weapons, boots, leggings, satchels – one or more of the above, borne with pride.  To bring the creature back skinless?  And the head of a wild boar was some of the best part.  Why would he behead the creature?  And as for the meat...  There was something more to this picture.  She began looking around for Ooluōzh.  She wanted to speak with him He was standing directly behind her.  “Tathik,” he said, “may I speak with you to the side?”  “my heart calls out that I to spShe nodded.  It wasn’t uncommon for the two of them to have the same thoughts at the same time.  Having shared the rulership of Faction Binzhmai for more than half a century, their thought His voice was deep.  “It’s a headless hunt, no pelt and unlike any creature I have seen.”  “A headless carcass?  No pelt?  AndTathik nodded.  “More than that Moreover, its meat is marbled woven with fat.  I and the other women zhana were talking about on it even now when you approached.  We’ve never seen the like Tathik turned and looked at the sullen boy.  What then
Where indeed?  Was it possible that he’d strayed too close to t“I don't know.  That road is hidden from me,” she said.  “The fawlthawgheen keep animals. but, is that even possible Can we grOoluōzh turned and looked at the celebration of the camp.  What if it was true?  What if the child had lost his mind and taken the creature from one of the breaker-builders?  Those foul creatures of the plains, soft-headed, short and thick, bland.  They were all talzheet, a word used to describe any animal that was a single color and used as an insult to the zhandugheen.  They were a living contradiction that had little respect for nature and her ways, cutting down trees in massive swathes and using it them to create hulking monstrosities they seemed to abide in, inflexible and void of life.  Not just sheltered from the elements, but utterly divided from them so that nature existed outside, as if life and her beauty were something to be afraid of, to be divorced from.  They were a poorly understood gathering, only ever really viewed from a distance, seeming to enjoy clumping together with far too many in one place to be able to subsist off the land without destroying it.  How did they stay alive?  It couldn’t be that they were able to feed so many of them sitting in one place, never moving to new land, new hunting grounds.  The land would be used up, destroyed, turned into a wasteland.  Food would run out completely in a matter of a couple years!  He didn’t ponder on them at any great length.  They managed some way, sure, but he didn’t care to know how.  That world was foreign to him, and the less he knew about it the more coHowever, they had been creeping closer and closer over the last several years, spreading like an disease infection over the face of the land, and had recently, within the last five or six years, begun to reach the forest.  Already they had destroyed many trees, cutting them down to the earth, turning the outer extreme fringes of Ghenerzheth Forest into stump studded plains.  The wood was piled onto large rolling platforms that were attached to horses and then taken off and over the hills, presumably to turn into more hulking monstrosities.  Frankly, when they had been keeping to themselves, little more than a periodic sighting, he didn’t care what they did, but now that they were encrOne of the great oddities of the fawlthageen, the breaker-builders, was that they appeared to keep animals with them, as neighbors.  Not just horses either, though that was mysterious enough.  Admittedly, the horses would eat things different than the fawlthawgheen, but they still had to eat and so keeping them from running free to forage seemed like madness; but they kept other animals as well, like soft pink, low-backed looking boars, and creatures much like the horses, only more squat, wider at the shoulders with square backsides and often adorned with horns, all of them in open air enclosures.  He had no idea what they ate, but...here was what he couldn’t figure out.  Animals ate more food than they provided – that was just nature at work.  For example, a wild boar could eat enough rooted up potatoes in one sitting to easily equal the meals’ of three grown men.  That was one animal in one feeding.  That same animal roamed freely over many miles of land, and so there was always plenty replacing what it had eaten previously, so, but - here was a fine question – if the animals they kept in shelters of their own ate more food than they provided turned into when butchered, how did they manage to feed the creature that was feeding them??  HowNot that any of that was of consequence right this second.  His mind had drifted from the matter at hand.  Ooluōzh was too old and wise not to know when trouble was brewing, and the fawlthawgheen were trouble beyond doubt.  Meddling with the animals in their gatherings, where they lived, could only mean greater trouble still.  The young man question would have to be addressedOoluōzh called young Zhakari aside.  “Come Walk with me.  Let u“Little Zhanoy, the hunt that you bring with you is not like does not mirror other kills.”  Ooluōzh paused there.  Often times if someone had something to confess, all that was necessary to get them started was to provide them an opportunity to start.  The young man’s mottled skin, pale brown and deep ruddy red, b“You cut off the head?  Some of the meat hungered for the most “And the animal is new, yes?  A shape, an animal, that is a first seeing for my eyes do not know, an animal I have not seen beHe Zhakari continued to remain silent, but his eyes widened wit“And Tathik tells me the meat is not like does not mirror any those she’s seen before – not like does not mirror a forest boar’s meat.  No, this meat is but rather, marbled woven with fat aZhakari actually broke out in a sweat then.  The meat wasn’t right?  How could he possibly have known that the meat would be different?  His explanation about how it had been too far that he had had to carry the beast, that he needed to get rid of weight, and that’s why he’d cut off the creature’s head and left its pelt behind suddenly fell apart.  Or did it?  Could he still provide that lie, and just say he didn’t know why the meat was different?  His eyes were wide and looking anywhere but at OoluThe man stood silent, hands behind his back, looking down at the boy resolutely but not unkindly.  He could see that he was co“Zhakari,” said the old man, voice deep but laden with compassion, “speak to me what is, not what isn’t.  Do not create a storZhakari’s eyes filled with tears.  He nodded jerkily, blinking rapidly, causing huge drops to fall down to his cheeks.  “My heart was sick to tell you.”  He took in a choppy breath.  “My he“I went walked many steps into the forest.  Twice I saw game, and once I even got a shot off with loosed an arrow from my bow...but I missed and missed.  I walked back to my traps, but though and they had been sprung, but they had and caught nothing.  I could not find anything searched and found nothing else more.  I looked and looked and still found nothing else more.  For two days I looked, stiffening my neck against returning with empty hands. but I could not come back with empty hands.  I hungered for death before returning rather than return as a vorbhoyliHe hung his head and shook.  Ooluōzh could see that the boy was going into shock with the power of his emotion.  Going into shock?  What had happened?  The old man reached out to the young one then, placed his weathered, patch-work hand on his shoulder.  The boy responded by breaking down completely.  Ooluōzh had “Little zhanoy, what harm is this falls upon you are suffering?Zhakari sobbed like a little child, sank his head into his hands and wept like a baby.  Ooluōzh had seen this before, though the last time he’d watched such an emotional breakdown it had been after the death of his wife, when his son, Gezhma, had completely broken down.  The old man didn’t know what to do with it then, and frankly, didn’t know much what to do with it now.  Comfort was what the women did.  He wished he’d invited Tathik toAfter a while, the boy’s sobbing eased up.  He began talking again, his voice thick with phlegm.  “I turned south to look where...”  where I had not yet to take a...”  He cleared his throat.  “...where I had not yet tried to hunt to take a new hunting journey...where I had not looked before.  I know saw with the eyes of my heart the path was one we don’t go there travel often with many feet, nor for many phases of the moon, there becoming a tightening of the chest when the fawlthawgheen lay eyes upon us because we wish thirst not to be seen by the fawlthawgheen, (this is ok – ‘because’ is a Hebrew word) and when I saw no other path, I took it. but I didn’t know where else to go I saw no other path, and I couldn’t come back  My neck stiffened against returning with empty hands.  As the sky is blue, I couldn’t“I walked until I came to the edge of the forest, and there I..Could he do it?  Could he tell the zhandupoy?  What if he considered it treason?  There were few laws that ended in banishment or death, but treason was one of them.  Faction Binzhmai was under the strictest of all orders not to come into contact with the fawlthawgheen.  No threat had ever been issued, no punishment laid out, but what if?  His crime wasn’t simply theft, that He found himself gasping again.  The room was too small, there He tried to break free and run outside, but Ooluōzh caught him in an iron grip, locked him in place.  The boy struggled for half-a-second before freezing stiff, his eyes suddenly locked witZhakari whispered, “I saw the beast, like a boar only too fat, pink, round and almost hairless.  It was...”  For one terrifying moment in time Zhakari thought his mouth was going to speak truth, as if his need to confess was stronger than his own personal willpower.  In his exhaustion and emotional collapse he felt almost as if he were standing outside his body looking in, watching the events progress rather than playing a part in them, but if he told the truth, if he permitted his mouth to speak the unbelievable and monstrous truth, then what of Weezhwoe?  He thought to himself, 'Please!  Please don't tell him!'  His mouth continue speaking and he heard himself say, “It was - rooting in the trees.”  His eyes were searching the zhandupoy's eyes, looking to see if his lie had been believed.  He could not tell.  His mouth continued to talk.  “I looked and there was no one to see me, so I shot it, but I was terrified that you would convict me of a crime, and so I skinned it and cut off its head sOoluōzh let him go.  He felt a wash of warmth spread from his gut through the whole of his being.  That was all?  His thought The boy, his skin so pale that he looked nearly fawlthawgheen, almost one single sheet like a talzheet, nodded his head, eyes Ooluōzh smiled at him then.  “Well (this is ok, meaning ‘peace’), that is but a handful of berries, child!  Shall we suffer a sunken bowel if the fawlthawgheen lose an animal?  If they send their beasts into the forest, into our lands, and we kill and eat it, shall our hearts wither within us?  Surely they shall not!  You didn’t enter their land, didn’t steal from them.  If they did not even begin to see you, doing nothing more than shooting an animal in the forest, there can be no falling.  Even if“Let your heart be lifted, boy.  No...man, for you are a man now.  Let your heart be lifted up because of what you have done.  There is a lesson for the fawlthawgheen here, and a reward for you.  I will not forbid the hunting of animals in the forest.  Far be it from me, that I not permit the hunting of animals inHe chuckled, deeply relieved.  Speaking the thing that was the least possible from this child, the thing that couldn’t ever have happened at the hands of this boy, the laughing stock of the faction, no talent Zhakari, he said, “It isn’t as if you had kOoluōzh explained to Tathik what had happened, and she laughed as much as he did.  The poor boy – er, man.  (It was going to be hard to get used to the thought of Zhakari as a man.)  To suffer that kind of torment over nothing whatsoever?  Tathik couldn’t have agreed more with her counterpart.  The fawlthawgheen shouldn’t be keeping animals in shelters anyway.   At least the poor creature had died free.  No, the boy would have his Hulwaya celebrated, and be ushered in as a man of the faction.  She had expected the boy to come back with a rabbit or two.  She and the patriarch had already discussed how lenient Oolūozh might have to be to permit the child to pass, had joked about how each member would have to be content with half-a-bite and consider it a meal.  Instead, he’d made his mark in the faction (outlined), and would be remembered in tales to come long after he was dead.  The first to kill one of the fawlthawgheen-kept creatures in known memory, and that, a massive hulk of a creature, borne down with meat.  A claim to fame.  There would be a feast toThe boy’s friend, Eenat, had been inducted into the men of faction Binzhmai only a month prior to Zhakari.  He volunteered to play the part of the prey in the reenactment of the hunt.  Of course, in that each initiate wanted his tale to be more spectacular than the last, each story had a tendency to be more profound than the previous Hulwaya’s reenactment, and so his volunteering wasn’t altruistic by any means.  How the prey died was in the hands of the actor playing the part, and Eenat had the opportunity to downplay his friend’s victory so that the memory of his own kill would be better recollected.  Zhakari had been more than a little subdued, however, in relaying how he’d kill his prey, and Eenat had to fill in the blanks.  All he really got was that Zhakari would shoot him with his bow, and then cut off his head and skin him.  That was it.  No stalking, no leaping from the trees upon the animal, no chase, nothing.  Eenat almost felt bad that he’d wanted to downplay the event.  He found hiThe ladies of the village had gotten to work immediately, and sent men into the trees to acquire good wood for a sturdy spit.  The carcass weighed half as much as a healthy man, and that was without the head, guts and feet.  It must have taken Zhakari a long time to get the creature back through the forest and to camp.  The fire was stoked to create a mass of coals and the women went to work on the meat, stuffing it with seasonings and pIn the meantime, the pieces of the Hualzha, the name for the dais that the judgment seats of the matriarch and patriarch sat on, were brought out, and it was constructed so that Zhakari could sit upon it when he was branded a man.  It was a once in a lifetime event for most, since the only other time an individual would sit on it was when they were acting as matriarch or patriarch, and each zhandupoy and zhanduma ruled for life. and were only replaced upon their death, their willful resignation, or rarely if they were judged incapable of ruling by a 2/3 adult majority.  By ancient tradition, as each new man completed his hulwaya, just before he was branded a man, he had the right to make a single judgment create a single law whilst he sat on the seat.  So long as the faction’s zhanduma, the matriarch, agreed with his ruling dictum, whatever it may be, the ruling new law was accepted by one and all.  The same was awarded to women a week after they gave birth, so long as they were supported by tThere were games played, laughing and eating, songs sung and dances danced.  The Zhandugheen had only a couple of galas celebrated throughout the year, and so a Hulwaya was a big event.  There was not a member of the tribe that didn’t participate in some way, bringing out wooden clappers and drums, flutes and pipeShortly before the sun set on Generzheth Forest, Buulnayzh found himself nagged by the boys of the faction to get his son to perform the reinactment.  “Go and get him, won’t you?  We hunger to see how he hunted the beast.  We thirst to hear what it looThe father was reluctant.  His son was more than a little withdrawn.  Inquiring of him what the problem was had elicited no response, and the memory of his son, his only boy, turning on him, haunted him like a wasp that wouldn’t be chased away.  He was sick to his stomach, but that didn’t change that this was his son’s Hulwaya, and he had a responsibility, not just to his chiHe approached Zhakari, who sat on a smooth stone just outside the camp.  The boy was staring vacantly into nothing as his fathThe young man looked with his eyes first, then his head.  The lZhakari turned to look back into nothingness.  His father sat down beside him.  Reaching out, he put a hand on his child’s sho“What?” Buulnayzh asked, torn apart inside.  “What fell upon yoThe anger melted off the child’s face and was replaced by a depth of regret and profound sorrow that made his father’s heart ache in his chest.  He whispered, “You want to see?”  Standing uThe sun was just finishing its traversal of the heavens and, as its body touched the horizon, the more dedicated women of the camp, gathered in the center, ringed around the faction fire and began to sing.  Just as the men awakened the camp at sunrise and ushered in the day with the Hylothoy, so the women sang the song of uniting, the Hylaytha, to close the day, collecting calling all to eat as one.  As the setting sun erases the line between light and shadow so the song's lyrics instructed the faction to come together again for a time of unity, companionship aShortly after the Hylaytha was finished, the faction was seated with wooden plates of cooked ham in a half circle, facing the Hualzha and the judgment seats upon it.  Usually they all sat around the fire, not gathered to one side, but this was not a usual day.  The culmination of a Hulwaya was an event that came complete with a show, and everyone was looking forward to it, laZhakari came from behind them, Eenat in tow, and walked out in front of his audience.  Buulnayzh watched with great trepidation, that (should this be 'a'? Resolved) sense of impending doom hanging over him, unshakable, as if some great monster were in “Hear now,” called out Zhakari, and the laughing and talking began to dwindle.  “Hear now,” he called again, and the talking tIn the ensuing quiet, his eyes sought for young Weezhwoe.  She was small for her nearly 13 years, frail and often sickly, and there were doubts that abounded throughout the faction as to whether or not she would be able to complete her Chodzhuldhem, a girl's rite of passage into womanhood, in a couple weeks’ time.  Zhakari had heard the rumors told plainly to him by his friends who considered her a poor prospect for marriage whether she passed the Chodzhuldhem or not.  Until he'd heard those rumors just over a month ago, he himself thought that it was unlikely he would be able to find a wife.  He wasn't so stupid as to think that the same rumors weren't being spread about him, but hearing about her state awakened in him a new found hope.  She was beautiful – nobody would say otherwise, just not a good choice for child-bearing stock according to them, but Zhakari knew better, felt it deep inside himself.  He'd never spoken aloud about his doubts, but there was a part of him that simply knew that a mother might be fragile and her children be strong.  After-all, Weezhwoe's mother and father were both fit and healthy zhan of the faction, and yet their child had been born fragile.  Why wouldn't it work exactly the opposite way?  Just like he was descended from healthy parents, his father a healthy hunter, and yet he himself had little skill in hunting and trapping, if any.  Being born deficient, he'd had many opportunities to ponder the subject, since he stood a good chance of becoming vorbhoyli, and he'd paid attention to the pattern of offspring and their similarity to their parents or lack thereof, and frankly the physical traits capabilities of the children more-often-than-not were very different from their parents.  No, he believed she'd make a perfect wife and mother.  More than that, she was beautiful, and kind, and demure, and that drew him to her strongly.  The fact that she was less physically fit than other girls only made him feel compassion for her, because he deeply understood her state of existence, and this made her all the more attractive to him.  He wanted to provide her comfort, let her know that she most certainly was not less sufficient than other women, that she was every bit as desirable as any of the other girls and women in the faction, bar none – more so.  He didn't want any of the others, he just wanted to be close to her.  She was his reason for passing his Hulwaya, his hope of living a normShe was not in the front, nor in the middle of the crowd, and his play was badly interrupted as fear began to creep in that maybe she wasn't there watching.  No girl who was interested in courting a newly made man would miss the reenactment at the end of a successful Hulwaya.  He had been so sure that his eyes' not-so-inconspicuous admiration over the past month had been returned, so certain his smiles from a distance that caused her to turn her head and cover her mouth with her hand meant that she approved of his gaze.  When he waved, she waved.  When he smiled, she smiled – and sometimes, he'd caught her smiling at him fAnd she was.  There, at the back of the crowd, standing outside her home rather than with the rest of the faction, was little Weezhwoe, her hands clasped in front of her.  She must have noticed that he was looking for her, because it was movement that he caught out of the corner of his eye that caused him to finally see her, back behind them all.  She was waving.  He felt a wave of relief that suppressed his crushing guilt and depression for a moment, and, feeling as though he'd received a breath of air after nearly drowning in guilt and trauma, he stood tall a“Hear now,” he said again, his voice strong and loud, “the Hulwaya of Zhakari, son of Buulnayzh, zhanoy of Faction Binzhmai.  Walking in the way of ancient custom, he went into the trees in“The first day he went out from the camp, not many steps, just near the other side of where Gezhma and Ulgwa had hunted the day before.  He set many snares.  In the morning, he found that the snares had all been sprung, all of them, but he had caught nothing.  He reset the snares, then he went and began tracking tAs he remembered the creeping desperation that had come with that morning, his distaste for the faction rose within him like bile in his throat.  His exhausted, traumatized emotions were tossing about inside him wildly, and he was thrown from comfort to humiliation by his memory with ease.  With a barely perceptible sneer on his face he said, “but you all know how clumsy he iThe faction laughed, but to a degree a bit uncomfortably.  Zhakari’s face was so straight that, though many of them thought he must be poking fun at himself – after all it was a joyous celebration in his honor - some of them thought he might not be lauZhakari noted the uncomfortable tone in their laughter and a brief flash of contentment shot through him.  He glanced to Weezhwoe again.  She didn't appear to think it was funny.  Her face appeared concerned for him, not pitying, but wanting to comfort“He found some skat, and he tracked the deer, and he found where it had been also, but it was just the gut pile from Gezhma and Ulgwa’s kill that he found.  He went and checked all his snares, but not enough (Hebrew has ‘not satisfied’) time had passed, and so only one was sprung, but he had caught nothing.  He feSpeaking like this about how he'd suffered seemed to have a double effect; Weezhwoe looked so deeply sad for him, like she knew what it felt like, how sorrowful he must have been, and at the same time, he was able to really tell the faction about how horrible they were, and nobody was going to shut him up now.  Maybe they'd actually feel bad for how they'd treated him over the years.  It felt – powerful – in its own way.  In addition, Zhakari found that speaking about himself in the third person made this much easier.  Without intent, without really thinking about it, he was easily able to tell the story as though he had been outside himself looking in, and with it, his honesty about how miserable they had all made him feel, began to gather stren“He waited until morning, cold and feeling stupid and clumsy.  He wished with all his heart that he had paid more attention to his hunting lessons, that he was stronger, quieter, with a better (might could improve this – Hebrew uses ‘beautiful’, we could say ‘more beautiful’?  Better might be just fine, though.) eye.  He went and checked all his snares again, but though almost all of them had been sprung again, he had caught nothing.  NoNormally the speaker would have been walking around, acting out how he was stealthily seeking for his prey, showing how skillful he'd been at setting traps, but not this time.  Zhakari was just standing in one place.  Behind him, recently-made-man Eenat, was doing the same - just standing there.  It was beginning to become very uncomfortable, feeling like every eye was on him.  He stood up on his tip-toes before rolling back onto his heels, anxiously waiting for when he should begin acting.  His queue was supposed to have been when Zhakari began his play, but Zhakari wasn’t doing anything but talking.  Admittedly, there was another part of him that took comfort in this fact.  It meant his Hulwaya was going to remain more memorable than his friend’s. (Comment at the end of this that Eenat sees that his is by “So he went more steps into the trees.  He was sick to his stomach, his bowels low, his heart withered within for thinking about if he could not find anything.  It was the third day, and he imagined what it would be like to come back to camp as a vorbhoyli, cold, half-starved and with empty hands.  It made him so sick he threw up.  He walked further, looking for something, anything, and then he startled a deer.  It ran from him.  He drew his bow and got (in Hebrew got becomes ‘came to off’) loosed? one arrow off behind it, but he wasn’t even close to hitting it.  He chased it, and when he lost sight of it, he tried to track it, but he could not walk the path of the tracker, so it was gone and he was exhausted.  Too soon and the sun went down, and he had to stop for the night.  He didn’t really (‘really’ is ok, though the literal term him is more likely ‘indeed’) sleep, he just (can use this if desperate, but the word ‘only’ meaning ‘alone’ is preferable) felt the tightening of his chest that he might be the laughing stock (can keep this if we must, but can we think of something better?) of the faction, how all of you would speak badly about over him in your hearts, that his father would be unable to look upon him with a leaping heart.  His mind thought about eyes to seek a wife and how that would be denied (might try ‘bent away from’?) him, and the tightness of his chest was such that his heart would seek death before he coul“When he got up arose, he startled several rabbits that were near him that he hadn’t noticed, looking for food under the frost.  He screamed and tried to catch even just (can keep if we must, but we’re pretty imaginative – can we think of something more concrete?) one, shot an arrow at one, but he missed and they were much faster than him, and he watched them all run away.  His stomach heaved again then, but he hadn’t had anything to eatBy now, members of the audience had begun to glance sideways at one another.  A couple of the young mothers began rocking their children who started to fuss.  No one was smiling anymore.  Zhakari noted it with bitter approval.  Not laughing now, were they?  Telling the story like this had a purging effect, like lancing an age old wound.  None of them understood him but Weezhwoe.  A part of him took a sick sort of pleasure in the thought, 'Wait until you hear this next part.'  At the same time, reliving the memory of it all made his stomach tighten like a fist inside him and he grimaced with the pain of it.  Apa wanted to know what had happened to him?  He would tell him, at least in p“Then a heart leap came to him.  The fawlthawgheen keep animals in shelters.  He could go and take one of theirs!”  An audible gasp went up from the faction, but Zhakari didn’t flinch.  “He turned south and walked quickly, his heart still leaping.  HisIn her tent, listening to the Hulwaya in a state of misery, was Weezhwoe's mother, Wanuzhka, who was having one of the worst days of her life.  Last night she had begun to become ill, but Zhakari's arrival had sent her over the edge and her sickness had become full-blown.  As a result, she'd been unable to attend the first day of her sister's Elata Mawday, the celebration of seperation of Binzhmai's neighboring sibling faction, Zhvenga, which only came around once a year.  Her reason for wanting to be at the elata had been muted last night, nothing more than a need to carry through on a commitment she'd made to her sister to be there, which sounded fun, but in the long run was relatively unimportant; so when she'd begun to run a fever, she'd been disappointed, but fairly unconcerned – until the Zhakari boy had come into camp again this morning, victorious.  Then she suddenly wished she were well with all her heart, needed to be well so that she could get her daughter out of camp as fast as possible.  She hadn't failed to note the glances her daughter had received recently, and more than that, had noticed that her daughter quite happily received them and returned them.  Though it was true that, if her daughter passed her rite of passage, her Chodzhuldhem (have you told the reader what this is yet? Yes you did.), her ama would no longer have any say in how she acted around a boy, she dreaded the idea of fragile Weezhwoe being married to that clumsy oaf.  She had stayed out of it for the most part until now, convinced by her husband, Oolklamain, that the boy would never pass his Hulwaya and so, as a vorbhoyli, never have an opportunity to court their daughter, but now the worst had happened and the boy had moved into adulthood.  The first step of Weezhwoe's Chodzhuldhem was less than two weeks away and the possibility of the two truly becoming a unit was terrifying to her.  Weak grandchildren were in the near future.  So, throughout that day she had bent her whole mind to recovering her strength enough to just make the journey a couple miles to her sister's celebration site, but to none effect, only getting sicker as the day wore on, and less and less capable of taking her daughter away.  Oolklamain, maddeningly, didn't particularly care one way or another, and wasn't about to miss a Hulwaya feast, and so was seated with the rest of the faction and munching on his ham, but Wanuzhka, stuck at home, had kept their daughter with her.  She sat inside, unable to help but listen to the miserable story with her head in her hands, feeling like her daughter's future was in dire jeopardy, her eyes closed as much from the sorrow in her heart as the fever she felt coming on.  There she had remained, immobile - until she heard him mention the fawlthawgheen.  The second the word had come out of his mouth she felt that maybe there was hope still.  Everyone knew that there was to be no contact with the ridiculous pink skinned talzheet that lived on the plains.  The command was out, issued by the zhandupoy and the zhanduma, and now the talentless boy had just admitted to the whole faction that he was a law breaker!  Not just without skill, but stupid to boot!  She would inquire of the zhanduma the second she had a chance!  Her head came up out of her hands and...wait.  Where was her daughter?  WherBack outside at the head of the crowd, Zhakari continued.  “He found one of their dead shelters, built in the plains not far from the forest edge and he saw three of the fawlthawgheen walking around outside.  Closer to him there was an animal shelter.  His bowels withered, but his heart leaped also.  He waited until it was dark.  After the moon had risen high over his head, hHe turned then to Eenat and pointed to a spot near him in the dirt.  Poor stunned Eenat wasn't certain what his friend wanted him to do.  Eyes wide with shock, he raised his eyebrows questioningly, and Zhakari reached out, caught him by the shoulders and moved him to stand beside him.  Now wishing that he didn’t have to do this, Eenat stood where he’d been put, but this wasn’t how Zhakari had told him it would go.  Was he saying the hunt had been killed in a pen?  He hadn’t told him the creature was in a pen.  It isn't hunting if the creature's in a pen, is it?  He half-expected Ooluōzh or Tathik to stop him, but they stooZhakari didn't see Wanuzhka throw open the entryway flap, didn't see her gasp as she saw her daughter standing outside (against direct orders) to watch the Hulwaya, didn't hear the whispered reprimand or the command to come back inside, and didn't notice that little Weezhwoe was reluctant, but obedient.  The girl turned and, with a final glance at Zhakari, was drawn inside he“As he readied himself to go and kill the creature...”  Zhakari paused.  Telling the story, he could smell the cold meadow air from that night instead of the cooked meat filled air around him of the faction meal that wafted around him.  His eyes drifted skyward for a moment, and suddenly it felt very much as if he was there again.  No – he wasn't there, he was here in the camp, telling the story.  He looked glanced up searching for Weezhwoe, unintentionally looking to her to root him back in a place of relative peace, to help him hold onto why it had all been wHe stuttered.  “He was...going to k-kill...the...”  Where had she gone?  Where had she gone?  WHY WAS SHE GONE?  Had he said something wrong, something to frighten her?  Oh no.  No no no.  Please no.  What if it was that he had gone to the fawlthawgheen?  What if she thought he was going to be made vorbhoyli?  She didn't know he'd already talked with the zhandupoy, that he already had approval.  Maybe if she heard the rest of the story she'd come back?  Not the truth, though.  He couldn't tell the tStrongly now, louder, hoping that his raised voice would be heard through the thin walls of Weezhwoe's home he shouted, “He turned and saw that it had escaped its shelter and was standing there in the trees beside him.  It hadn’t noticed him.”  Zhakari motioned anxiously to Eenat to turn around, his eyes still loo“His heart leapt high.  He reached to his belt and drew his knife, and then crept up behind the thing.  It was eating with vigor, and didn’t see him coming until the last moment – and then Eenat acted as if he were startled and began running in place, but Zhakari just stood where he was, looking to where his hope had been standing.  His voice raised.  “He chased it, and it ran.”  No Weezhwoe still.  “HE CHASED IT, AND IT RAN.”  Oh, please.  Please come back.  Please don't leave me.  “HE RAN.  IT RANThat night began to press back down upon him.  Without Weezhwoe’s presence there to protect him from his trauma, the firelight seemed to dim, and there, behind him, he could almost hear the roar of the animal that ran with the fawlthawgheen.  Beads of His mouth was still shouting.  “It ran, I ran.”  Eenat, hearing the change in tone and perspective, stopped moving and just froze, not sure what to do.  Turning to look at his friend, he saw the boy's body locked stiff, eyes gaping open, and a smell came off of him like sour body odor that was foreign to his nose.  He'd never smelt fear on a zhan before and didn't know what iZhakari's voice got louder and more frantic as he began to experience again his living nightmare.  “I ran as hard as I could, harder than I could.  I ran and ran, my heart no longer leaping, my bowels sunk into the earth.”  For a last fragile moment he turned to see if Weezhwoe was there now, maybe come at the last possible second to save him from this madness.  For a moment his desperation caused his eyes to see her shape, standing there, waving to him so sweetly, but just as quickly reality crashed down and she vanished again and all that was left was darknesHis voice reached a fevered pitch.  “I ran as hard and as fast His arm shot out and grabbed Eenat, who didn’t see it coming anIn the terror of his flashback, Zhakari could hear the roar of the animal that ran in front of the fawlthawgheen, the thumping of boots on the ground behind him, his eyes seeing the sheet of tall grass between him and the forest, blood, like thin, crusty sap on his hands from the butchering of the hairless boar and its little ones.  His sides burned with his exertion, his nose seared with the gasping cold.  And then the roaring creature “I went down, and it went down with me!”  Zhakari took Eenat to the dirt, hard.  “I had my knife, but it had a...”  And that was how close he came to telling them all that he had been fighting an armed creature.  Some distant part of his intact mind must have slipped in then, because his sentence re-started.  “I had my knife, but my bowels were so black inside me that I couldn’t even (begin to?) scream.  I saw my death coming for me, I felt so small and low, but there was no way to unwalk the steps His voice cracked with stress.  He flipped Eenat on his back and straddled him.  His poor friend, feeling afraid, not understanding what he was supposed to be doing, looked up with real fear in his eyes.  Zhakari’s voice was filled with madness and despair and Eenat didn’t know what his crazed friend might do nextZhakari locked up then, mouth open wide in a silent scream, eyes terrified, body quivering, shaking hands clenched into fists held in front of him, bent back from the wrists with all the apHolding the knife close, its body pressing against his, so much stronger, so much bigger than him.  Him holding the cloth of a shirt sleeve in a fist so tight it ached, trying to keep the fawlghawgheen from hurting him while it tried mightily to bring its blade to bear.  It held him with its other hand, and they rolled, each trying to get a better hold on the other.  Fear, thick like wet sand crawled through his tense belly, holding onto that shirt sleeve, not thinking anymore, struggling...and then in the blink of an eye it had released him to try and get a better hold, and he was able to get his knife point against its chest.  Holding the blade, both hands now, rolling, and feeling his hands tight against its ribs.  Knife in hands, hands tight against ribs, struggle abating.  And then the strange words spoZhakari slumped forward.  He moved off of Eenat, shoulders hung, hands laying limply beside him.  Nobody knew what was happening.  One thing was sure – there was no more joy in the watching of this reenactment, this catastrophe.  One baby began to cry, and that triggered another.  Nobody was really eating much anyZhakari lifted his head.  His voice was now much quieter and everyone except for the faction members in the first row had to lean in to be able to hear him at all.  “He had killed it.  His bowels felt as though (used interchangeable with ‘if’) they might fall out of him, though (used interchangeably with ‘however’ which is abstract.  In Hebrew, ‘Except what’ is translated as ‘however’), because it was fawlthawgheen, and the mouth of his heart told him that he might be banished or killed for treason.”  He paused again.  Had he just said it was fawlthawgheen?  He searched the faces of the zhandupoy and zhanduma to see if that was it, one half of him hoping that he'd just given it away and that this pathetic rot of a life would be coming to an end, the other half terrified of the same.  Almost as if hearing it from the other side of a glade, he heard his voice still talking.  “So he took the carcass of the animal that he’d slain, skinNobody was coming toward him.  Ooluōzh wasn't sending warriors to take him captive.  His emotions now so shattered that he felt numb, his body was still responding to the adrenaline and he paused to take several short breaths.  Finally he said without zeal, “His zhandupoy did not threaten banishment or death, though.  Instead In its stead he offered reached out with words thaHe stood up then and looked over at Ooluōzh.  “You are a giver, and I see that.  May my tomorrow hold for me that I am a giverEenat lay where he was for a moment, mind reeling.  He finally was able to lay hold of a thought that expressed what he felt clearly enough.  Flying gut pile!!  Slowly, he got up and dusted himself off.  By the light of a new moon, he’d not even really had a chance to die properly.  Feeling a little embarrassed, he snuck out of the firelight and back in with the rest of the fOoluōzh sighed inwardly.  He wasn’t so sure of his judgment regarding Zhakari, now that he’d heard the tale, seen the way it had gone, listened to the admission of his intent to go into fawlthawgheen territory for the animal.  That was intent to directly break a command issued to all Faction Binzhmai.  How often he’d learned the lesson of that ancient idiom, ‘Yesterday’s eyes always see better than tomorrow’s.’  Further thought on the suTathik, looking more than a little concerned, caught his eye, but Ooluōzh could only shrug.  He was committed at this point, and the ceremony wasn’t finished.  He motioned slightly with his head, and she acquiesced.  Together they stepped forward to the Hualzha and turned to face the faction, standing on either side of it next to their respective judgment seats.  Ooluōzh called out to Buulnayzh, “Will the father of Zhakari bring his son Buulnayzh went rather timidly to his son and motioned to him with his head.  Zhakari, in a half-daze, stood up and joined him.  The two of them came forward together, Buulnayzh with almost mincing steps, his son looking like he’d come out of a war zoneIt was with some degree of irony that Ooluōzh recited the next part of the ceremony.  “Buulnayzh, man of Faction Binzhmai and father to Zhakari, you approach the Hualzha with firmness of foBuulnayzh went to recite words all male zhandugheen had memorized from childhood.  “I do.  I seek a separation from boyhood for my son Zhakari, that he would be titled a man and given all that belongs-to (in Hebrew, this appears to always be an implied word, or is translated ‘is from’) men; a shelter of his own, a voice in the gheen and eyes to seek his wife.  I seek the sepaOoluōzh nodded.  Turning to the boy he said, “Zhakari, you have proven by feeding us all meat that you are a right hand of Faction Binzhmai.  As of this day, you will no longer be under the cover of your father, it will no longer be that your actions aFor Zhakari, time stopped completely.  As the sentence registered within his mind, he felt like he was falling, plunging into darkness.  Whatever Zhakari did today he would be responsible for, but not what he did yesterday, not what he did last night.  What happened last night, that would be his father's fault in As Ooluōzh continued, the skin of Zhakari's entire body darkened.  “As a man, what you do will change the course of the faction for increase or loss, and so I extend to you that which is mine to give, that you may issue a command to us all.  Taste what it is to change turn the course of the faction.  Come forward The dawveezh was the horn of judgment made of elaborately decorated ivory.  The horn itself came from a forest animal called a kruzhdhūmarr.  Larger than a horse, male kruzhdhūmarr had a wide, flat, bony horn that swept back from either temple and joined up behind their head to become a single, fused unit.  The animals used their horns in vicious combat, where two of the massive beasts would rear up and smash their heads together.  They were made of stuff nearly as sturdy as iron, though much lighter, and the outer edges of the horn were covered in sharp ridges that, once filed down, were perfect for drilling small holes to hang all manner of decorative items from.  (Right about here, if you have not stated it earlier, you’ll want to explain that new men get to issue a law, since the verbiage you’re using in the zhandugheen language doesn’t necessarily make that clear.  “Changing the course” just doesn’t perfectly translate to “make law”.  Actually, you explained this earlier – around page 23?  Just need to verify that it’s sufficient to allow the reader Ooluōzh extended his hand toward Zhakari, but the young man didn't move.  Buulnayzh reached over and nudged his son with his elbow, and when the boy still didn't move, looked around rather uncomfortably.  Finally, he reached over, put his hand on the bZhakari staggered and, in a daze, took the dawveezh with his right hand.  Tathik stepped from where she stood to the side of the Hualzha and reached out and caught his left hand.  She stepped forward, and had to tug slightly to get her counterpart moving, and together the two of them ascended the three steps of thMost men, when they sat upon the ruling chair for the faction felt, for a moment, the weight and joy that comes with being proclaimed leader.  They sat upright, proud, victorious, chests puffed out, heads high, looking down on the faction with a sense of pride, honor and strength.  Not this time.  Zhakari sat in it like a piece of limp clothing, leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, head hanging, barely clasping the dawveezh which dangled within an inch of the floor.  His body language was such that nobody would have been surprised if he’d burst into tears oTathik, on the other hand, held her form tall, back straight, her left hand on the arm of her judgment seat.  In her right hand, clutched to her chest, she held the faction’s dawghain, the female’s counterpart to the dawveezh.  It was a hammer, made, not from the boney horn from the head used for combat and defense, but from the back thigh bone of a kruzhdhūmarr wherein the creature’s great strength lay, the handle of it wrapped in ancient leather and set in a square of obsidian, polished black so that its dimpled glass sides glinted in the firelight.  The pommel of the tool, as well as the haft where it joined the hammer In ancient custom, just as the dawveezh was blown to summon a gathering to court, so the dawghain was used to issue the gavel strike that set a judgment in stone.  Now more ceremonial than practical, they were still an integral part of zhandugheen law and life.  (Need to detail the origins of the dawveezh and dawghain – see Launchings notes “After the creation of the zhandugheen”)  They were the symbols of strength, taken from the largest and most powerful of forest creatures, and symbols of order, male and female, one from the head to symbolize solutions, the other from the leg to symbolize foundation.  One made from a weapon and shield, the other made from combining bone and stone.  One issued a call, the other issued finality.  There was no providence without creation, no command without consent, no mind without heart, no man without woman.  Separate but one, more than a family, they were a single body with many parts and at the same time, two halves of a whole.  Each had a position, a part to play in life, a place to belong.  It was a piece of them, deep inside, the pulse of instinct bringing bridging unity with individuality.  These were the symbols of the gathering of the forest brethren.  They were the These were the symbols of the zIt was here, sitting in the judgment seat above the Hualzha that a man was meant to truly understand his role – provider, protector, husband and father, brother – MAN.  It was here, holding the dawveezh that a young man was meant to feel the transference from child to adult, to encourage him to understand the depths of his responsibility as well as the joy that comes with it.  This was it, the pinnacle from which he could look out across time, seeing his past and accepting his future as the right hand of the faction, projecting how he would bring life to the lifegivers and play his part in creating a better man, a better family, a better faction, a better race.  That is what was meantNot so for Zhakari.  He was sitting, crushed under the burden of his realization that his father was responsible for his actions last night.  He had known all his life that his father was accountable for his actions until he crossed over to adulthood but had never really dwelt on.  How could he have forgotten?  Had he forgotten?  Would it have mattered if he hadn't?  It wasn't as if he'd gone out of his way to kill the fawlthawgheen; he'd simply intended to get the animal and its young and bring them all home, triumphant.  Killing a mother who was defending her young was a particularly impressive feat, wow the faction, finally gain some respect, be applauded.  In his haste, he'd not grabbed the young, left them hanging on the wall, the proof of his excessive bravery, but, what did it matter?  It was all a false front.  HE WAS A LIAR!  He was a coward.  He was a criminal, and if ever it were discovered, his father would be the one banished.  Maybe killed.  Almost certainly killed.  Was that right?  His mind raced over the possibilities, but his fear brought all of them back to one blinding conclusion.  His father would be executed and he would most likely be...what?  What would tHe wished with all his heart that he could go back and unkill the fawlthawgheen, unkill the beast and her young, and simply come back to camp empty handed and accept his status as vorbhoyli.  Better to accept that tame future, one without honor or pride, but a certain, predictable future, than this that he'd set in motion.  The fear of his worst nightmare didn't compare with From her judgment seat, Tathik called out, “Zhakari, have you pHe glanced up at his apa, who, completely unaware of what had transpired last night or what was going through his son's head, nodded at him as if to say, 'Well, go on, declare your course change.'  (Perhaps put, ‘Well, go on, make your command.’?)  HisHe couldn't go back.  He couldn't unkill the beast or the fawlthawgheen.  No declaration of course change would undo that.  For a moment he stepped outside himself and looked to the welfare of the future.  No, he couldn't undo that, but he could declare something that might preserve others from having to suffer thLooking away from his apa, he lifted his head and answered, “I have, zhanduma.”  His eyes sought for Weezhwoe again, but he had no hope that she would be there.  His hopelessness was not diZhakari took a deep breath and nodded.  “As you command, so I shall make it,” he said, uttering ceremonial words spoken by countless others before him as they were ushered into manhood.  “My ruling is this...”  He paused as he considered his words, and the faction, already captivated by the bizarre series of event“Hulwayas from this day forward will last no more than five days.  At the end of the five days, if there is no meat to be had, the zhandugheen youth returns a man the same as if he’d fed the faction.  It is his effort labor that suffices, not his succeAcross the gathering the sense of awe was shattered and replaced with incredulity.  Tathik found herself turning to look at him as if he might, after all, be were empty-headed.  What was he thinking?  Did he actually believe, even for one second, that he would be permitted to issue a law that would change the ancient traditions of the zhandugheen from time immemorial?  That he would in a single stroke alter the course set by the wisdom of the ancients?  There was a reason for a man being someone who can feed the faction – it was about survival, not good feelings.  Those who could not feed the whole were not men, they were vorbhoyli - invalids.  They were considered disabled.  The entire point of the Hulwaya was to keep the factions strong, not help the individual feel good.  That would make the people a weaker people from one generation to the next until they were as weak and pathetic as the fawlthawgheen.  Those who did not complete it were still welcomed back, but they were ineligible for marriage.  They were not permitted to make children, because their blood wasn’t strong enough.  Faction Binzhmai was loose on their ruling as it was.  Did this child think that he would changThe zhanduma folded her arms and did not strike the dais with her hammer.  Instead she recited words that she’d never had to speak before, not in an official capacity.  She said, “I will not support this.  I veto your law (ruling?  Commandment? Or is lThe whole faction was a bit stunned.  Many of them whispered amongst themselves, others stood in silence, a bit gape mouthed, others giggled at the excitement.  Nobody could think of a time where a Hulwaya had gone like this – couldn’t think of even hearing about such a bizarre series of events.  Eenat couldn’t help but think that Zhakari’s Hulwaya far exceeded his in being memorable, and frankly, he was perfectly content at this point with it that way.  Delighted, even.  Far, far better to disappear into obscurity than be remembered for the ages as an earth-shaking reject.  Wow, yes.  What woman would ever want to be his wife?  Not only that, but every man dreamt of being zhandupoy, and when a faction got too big, it would separate into two, creating a new faction with a new zhandupoy.  After this, it was impossible to imagine that Zhakari would ever be considered for Poor Buulnayzh.  He understood why his child would try to pass such a law, that he was trying to save others from suffering through what he had, whatever that was, but...how could he not have known he would be declined??  It was evident that his boy wasn’t telling them something, that he was hiding the true reason behind his ruling.  It was utterly humiliating, for son and father alike, for anything a son did was attributed to the father until the rite of passage was completed and Buulnayzh didn't know for sure if, at this moment in time, his son was already considered man or not.  Mothers were responsible for the actions of their daughters, and in the same way, fathers were responsible for the actions of their sons.  A child was considered a parOoluōzh caught the father’s eye and motioned for him to come quickly.  The patriarch obviously wanted to get this slow death of a Hulwaya over with as fast as possible.  He wanted to put thBuulnayzh walked quickly to the fire.  This part above all else was the part he was had been dreading.  He looked down at the handle of the ceramic brand that had been sitting in the white coals of the fire for several hours now, awaiting this moment in time.  Absently he reached over and rubbed the scarred flesh on the meat of his upper arm where he’d been branded by his father when he had become an adult.  How was he going to be able tAs the father moved to retrieve the brand, Ooluōzh called out the next ceremonial sentence, solidifying the veto of the matriarch.  “So be it!”  He felt a little sick for the boy.  He was setting one miserable record after another.  He continued, “Let Buulnayzh was out of time.  There was no delaying this without adding to the boy’s humiliation.  He quickly put on the double-layered, heavy leather glove that sat on the rocks near the brand and used it to pick grab the handle of the brand up.  Even though the handle was itself not in the fire, the heat still conducted up its length and warmed his fingers through the thick leather.  Turning to the Hualzha he moved quickly to his son’s side.  Reaching out, he grabbed his boy’s arm to hold it steady and brought the brand up, aimed at the meat above his tricep.  Heart pounding, stomach aching, voice quivering, he called out to his son for all to hear, “Bear this mark with a lifted strenFor Zhakari, time again slowed to a near standstill.  Out of the corner of his wide-opened eyes he saw the red hot ceramic tip of the brand moving forward, the look of horror on his father’s face, his gritted teeth, the sweat beaded on his brow.  The grip on his arm was of stone, fingers sunk into his thirteen year old arm so tight it felt almost as if his father had seized him by the bone.  The rush of adrenaline, the quickness and shortness of breath, tingles of electricity running up his spine and across his skin, raising bumps of flesh, making his skin look like a plucked bird...but what he was feeling wasn’t fear of bCrimes worthy of banishment were accompanied by a different brand, the criminal's brand, and once that brand had been given, there was no turning back.  If a man were guilty of his own crimBuulnayzh moved before he could think and did what had to be done.  He didn’t hear himself whimper, and then the end of the brand contacted flesh.  He’d been taught that, if he wanted it clean he needed to be fast, but firm.  If he moved timidly, gripped lightly, the boy might flinch and move against the end of the brand, searing more flesh than was necessary and creating a misshapen mark.  Pressing hard, the burn would cook down through the skin quickly and keep the brand from moving too much even Zhakari screamed, but as his father prepared to remove the brand, the boy reached out and grabbed the blazing hot bar in his hand!  Buulnayzh screamed out also, flinching horribly, trying to get the brand off his son and out of his clenched fist.  The brand came off the boy's arm for a moment, but he was able to wrench it back, this time against his left cheek, searing himself a second time.  The whole faction shouted in startlement and horror.  Ooluōzh shocked, but not out of his wits, leapt at the boy, reaching for his arm as his father yanked on the brand so hard that Zhakari was pulled sideways out of the chair.  The ancient, ceremonial brand, made from fired clay, was not designed to take this kind of tension and snapped in half as the boy spilled out of the judgment seat.  (Do you want to talk more about this, its history, like the dawveezh and dawghain?  If so, you need to make a name for it.  Insert above where Buulnayzh is first going to it right after Ooluōzh wants to put the ceremony out of its misery.  Also will need to pay attention to Ooluōzh's thoughts shortly after the next chapter break.  Left this behind because of road-weariness and not wanting to overload the reader with new terms or culture.  Trying to keep it all intricate but memorable and still be concise.)  The patriarch halfway caught him and with either uncanny reflexes or good fortune was able to twist enough to keep either of them from landing on the now cast aside, broken end of the still red hot brand.  Together they crumpled to the ground with a grunt.  Buulnayzh stumbled backward, tripped over a bump in the earth and fell, landing hard on his hands before rocking backward and hitting his head.  What was left of the handle of the brand cracked apart.  He didn’t care.  He sprang forward, swatting the hot brand away from his son and the patriarch as Ooluōzh began to try and extrTathik descended quickly from the dais to where Ooluōzh was standing up, dusting himself off.  She knelt down beside Buulnayzh, now huddled protectively over his son who lay in quivering shock beneath him.  She patted the father, who looked up at her aShe was already pulling the soaking numb weed from a pouch at her side.  She had prepared only enough for one brand, though, and the young man now had three; one on his arm, one on his cheek and one in his hand.  Zhakari had flipped onto his right side, keeping the burnt flesh out of the dirt and clutched the wrist of his cooked right hand with his left.  It was into this han“Grip this tightly, Zhakari.”  She pressed the dripping foliage into his clawed fingers, and he did as he was told.  Tathik looked up, her eyes searching the faces of the faction until she spied the faction’s strongest healer, young Kezhenie.  “QuicklyKezhenie immediately came to her side, already reaching for theAs the young woman knelt down next to her matriarch, Tathik asked her, “Can you share the pain long enough for me to get more Buulnayzh leaned over Zhakari and rocked back and forth, holding his son’s head in one hand, and his right arm in the other.  The reason Tathik had sought out Kezhenie, aside from the fact that she was by far the greatest healer of Faction Binzhmai, was that and any of the other surrounding factions.  one of her gifts lay in pain sharing.  She was able to reach out, tap into the power of the talisman she wore around her neck, and extend herself into her patient.  Through this, she could share in their pain, taking whatever portion of it she chose to, alleviating her patient’s suffering while other remedies were applied.  Though she was capable of wound sharing as well (a gift that came to her quite naturally), and had been more than willing to on a few occasions in the past, she had been strictly forbidden to do so by her zhanduma because the result was that she literally took the wound from her patient into herself, and if it scarred, the scar was hers – for life.  She could not share away her own wounds.  The slightly crooked toes of her right foot boreGripping the stone from her necklace in one hand, Kezhenie reached out with her other and felt for the edge of the boy’s yaiyo, the halo that surrounded all things living, not touching him yet, but seeking to tie in a little in order to make her extension more easily solidified.  She found it, like little sharp pebbles and fragments of shattered stone against her skin, shimmering and jolting.  For a moment she focused on the noises and feelings of the chaotic world around her, the crying children, scared mothers, yammering men, pleading father, sobbing son, the discomfort of the hard packed earth beneath her knees, the smell of cooked flesh and the aroma of sopping numb weed – and then she began to tune them out, one at a time.  After years of experience, she had become gifted at it, and it took only a matter of moments for her to gain enough focus to risk full contact.  Having been asked by the zhanduma to do it increased her willingness, and the fact that this boy was someone she knew increased it tenfold.  She breathed in and then set her hand on his aKnowing exactly what she was looking for made it easy to extend in, but what she found was completely unexpected.  There was no physical pain, not from the burning, though there was most certainly a feeling of something being grossly physically wrong.  What she did feel, and was suddenly drawn to, was a horrific pain in the chest and belly that spoke to her of emotional torment on a scale that she had personally never experienced before.  She reached out to tap that pain, to share an ache that ran fSuddenly she found herself jolted out, and she yelped with surprise.  The young man hissed at her, “No!  It’s mine!  Don’t.”  Kezhenie leaned down, her face close to his.  “It’s ok.  Let meZhakari shook his head.  “It’s mine.  Don’t take it.  I’m sorryBy the end of that night, Ooluōzh was worn out.  Moving quickly through the faction, he’d provided direction and comfort where it was wanted and instruction where it was necessary.  It had still taken quite some time to get everyone calm – well, that was an overstatement.  It had still taken quite some time to get the faction functioning properly again whilst still in the midst of heightened emotion.  Calm had proven to be elusive.  This day would be the central topic of conversation for weeks, maybe months, to come.  Hulwayas like this didn't come along even oHis greatest disappointment was the loss of the vezhool, the broken brand.  That brand had been made for Faction Binzhmai when the faction had first parted from its parent, Faction Yōwheelō, many generations ago.  It had traveled with them before his great-grandparents had been born, treated with a depth of respect equal to the dawveezh and dawghain.  Made from clay, it had been inherently fragile from its inception, but the respect given it by all of the men throughout the generations that had been branded by it was such that none of them had broken it though there were hundreds of fathers gripping it tightly, hundreds of sons holding themselves still in the face of blazing pain...until now.  It was ironic that the brand had met its demise not as the result of fearing the fire, but rather indulging it.  The branding tip itself would be kept as a memento by him and all future zhandupoy of Faction Binzhmai, but there was no way to re-attach it to its handle.  A new vezhool would have to be constructed now.  (Would you like to make this a scene for cultural enrichment?  You could use it to describe some history.  outliAs to Zhakari, Tathik and Kezhenie had cared for him and his injuries, all three of which were deep and would leave scars for life.  The boy would be fortunate if he ever got to use his right hand again, though Kezhenie had said she felt that, with her direction in helping to heal the wound, he might recover someday.  What he would never recover from was the scar on his face.  A brand on the cheek was reserved for criminal actions that were just short of being worthy of death, given by a faction to those that were considered a threat to the whole of the species, and marked so that no matter what faction they ran across, it would be known that they were convicts.  Each faction had their own vezhool and that meant that if a scarred criminal left their faction, any other faction they ran across would know to look for the gathering that brand had come from, so that they might learn of the crime.  A branded cheek was meant to keep a zhan from being able to integrate into any society anywhere – ever.  In comparison, male vorhoyli received no brand, females no piercing, but could, if they chose, attempt to find a different faction that might take them in.  That was unlikely, because an adult with no brand or piercing would be recognized by any faction as an invalid, but factions and circumstances differed from one to the next, and so vorbhoyli could have hope that, if they left their faction, they might live a better life somewhere else, far far away where their factions didn't interact with those that might take them in.  Not so those with a criminal's brand.  They had been marked – far worse than being a vorbhoyli. Ooluōzh felt worse for the boy's father than he did for the son, frankly.  Buulnayzh had also been burnt, batting the brand away from his son and the patriarch, but his injury was merely a flesh wound.  The brand had been hot enough to make large, thick blisters on the fingers of his right hand, but time would care for that.  It was the inner pain he knew the father was experiencing that created sympathy in him.  He felt a kinship to Buulnayzh, in that both of them had lost their wives when their child was little.  That was where the similarities stopped.  Gezhma, the patriarch’s son, had grown to be the faction’s greatest warrior, stern, very serious and sober-minded, strong as a kruzdhūmarr and as skilled with both bow and staff as any zhandugheen Ooluōzh had ever seen.  It was all about trying to fill his father’s footsteps, and what was true was that, if Ooluōzh were to pass away, no male had better odds of being voted zhandupoy than he.  Zhakari, on the other hand, had always been a daydreamer, constantly lost in his own world, unable to focus.  He was not strong, not large, not gifted in any particular area.  Still, Ooluōzh couldn’t help but feel Buulnayzh’s pain.  He suffered every bit as much as did his child, maybe more so.  Had it been Gezhma suffering like that, he knew he would have been destroyed inside, eaten alive with anxiety and sorrow.  How that poor man must be feeling.  (When Ghezhma is facing execution, tThe zhandupoy went to the door of his shelter and opened it onto the night.  The camp was quiet now, silenced by sleep.  The air was quite chill, but at that moment he was enjoying its feel on his skin.  He breathed it in deeply and blew out a cloud of white wisp.  There was one question yet that still haunted him.  The ceremony had come to its very end, only one sentence left to speak, one set of ceremonial words left to say that hadn’t been said.  Once the branding was finished, the zhandupoy was supposed to say, “Zhakari, all of Faction Binzhmai sees that you are a man!”  It was such a small part, but a significant one, the final declaration of acceptance, the official statement of manhood.  In its absence, however, came the question, was Zhakari to be accepted as a man, or was he vorbhoyli, his trial incomplete?  The reality was it was solely his fault that the ceremony had not been completed, solely his fault that the vezhool was broken, that he was scarred, that his father was burnt.  Ooluōzh had had second thoughts when the boy was reenacting his hunt, how he had gone to the fawlthawgheen land with every intention of trespassing.  The consequences for such an action were potentially monstrous, and yet, to avoid his own humiliation, he’d been willing to do it anyway?  What did that say of his character?  But at the same time, he had brought a meal for one and all, and no small meal at that.  There was still plenty to go around.  A Hulwaya wasn’t a moral test, but a physical and mental one.  Could the man feed the faction?  If yes, then he was man.  If not, then he was vorbhoyli.  In addition, the brand of adulthood was on the boy, given per Ooluōzh’s own instruction, even if the brand of criminal was there as well, and vorbhoyli were not branded with anything.  But then, there was a ceremony to go through that was required before recognition of manhood was accepted, and Zhakari had not only interrupted it, he’d deOoluōzh sighed.  He'd have to speak with Zhakari and find out more about why he'd marked himself a criminal before any decision was to be made, see if that swayed his thoughts one way or another.  Tathik would be coming with him this time.  This wasn't his decision to make alone.  (Make sure you follow-up on this.  Not sure if you wrote it later on or not.  It’s been too long since you read all this...)
Process Group PGID: 157624

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## Canonical spine (M_L)

**PRIMUS:** Willful avoidance of harm of self and others equally.  
**SECUNDUS:** Willful seeking of healing of self and others equally.  
**TERTIUM:** Willful pursuit of benefit of self and others equally.

Love is the sole logic that produces mutual prosperity without a zero-sum trade.

- Full paper: `MASTER DOCS/PAPER/Another_Paper_Draft_v1.md`
- OSF preregistration: https://osf.io/qa54c
- Corpus phase: extract v0.1 (mined from local Braid archive)