Morning Tasks

JP with Omni and Lorem

Zar'tir aka Haven - Sentinel Island

Sea birds called and chirped overhead as the morning wind swept over the bay. The water lapping at Gonyaul’s feet was not as cold as he would have expected.

Ylja and other villagers of various ages were preparing the canoes for their outing. The tide was low, and the water was a clear aquamarine. Large pillows of cumulus clouds decorated the blue sky bed.

"Here. Our task this day shall be chiefly to catch fish for the stocking of our farm, yet we must also secure some for this night's meal," said Ylja, handing Gonyaul a spear and net.

Pointing to an older man in his late 50s with a respectful expression, Ylja said, “Yon is Jorveth! He doth possess full knowledge of the sea!” Her eyes widened with a mix of admiration and wonder. His face was weathered by years of sun and salt, yet his eyes sparkled with a youthfulness as he organized the nets and tools with efficiency. He offered Gonyaul a nod of acknowledgment.

Turning to a teenager working on the canoes, she whispered to Gonyaul, “Eshaiah, skilled with boats is he. His words are free, yet his heart is kind.” Her voice carried a hint of pride. The boy was perhaps no older than seventeen. He was busy securing the canoes, his lean muscles flexing under the strain. His quick, confident movements showed his familiarity with the task, and he cast curious squinting glances at Gonyaul, sizing up the newcomer with suspicion and interest.

Nearby, a girl younger than Ylja, with her hair tied back in a simple braid, was meticulously checking the fishing lines and hooks. Her concentration was intense, showing a maturity beyond her years.

Skipping slightly towards the younger girl, Ylja smiled, “Joybel to the fish doth sing, and verily, methinks they harken to her! In the craft of catching, she excels greatly.",” she said in a tone that was playful and cheerful. Then she whispered, “…but not so greatly as I.” And ended with a smile.

Joybel glanced up at Gonyaul and Ylja, her expression shy but friendly, offering a small, tentative smile.

As a young boy of Ylja’s age ran past them, he put wide-brimmed hat on each of their heads. She giggled and said, “Behold, my Thirel, who claims the morrow as mine own. Ever afoot and abrim with queries, a sprite of mirth is he.”

It was not so strange to Gonyaul to hear one so young speak of their betrothed. Like his own people, there numbers were few, and a child knew their partner from a young age.

Thirel darted around the beach, helping where he could, sometimes more in the way than not, but always with a beaming smile.

Soon enough the crew was ready to set out into the shallows to find their catches.

Gonyaul was truly honored to meet Ylja’s friends. He appropriately greeted each one in Vauxian fashion. His respect and interest was equally as observable for the elderly as the young.

The entire round of introductions whisked him away in his imagination, back to his youth. A small wave of grief broke in his heart when she spoke about Thirel. He didn’t show it, but his heart went all the way back to his betrothed, who had gone somewhere where he could not yet follow. Gonyaul was all smiles and felt included as one of their crew in this moment.

While they were finishing up their preparations, Gonyaul, true to form, couldn’t help think outside the box. He recalled a story by one of his elders, of their eye witness account of how long-nosed sea creatures that breathed air and traveled in pods would come up the river during the drier season that was not too far from their tree canopy home. The creatures would swim in circles around the fish in the shallows creating a wall of sand and debris dredged up in their wake. It created a wall that funneled the fish to a point they were directed into the hungry mouths of the partnering hunters. He wondered if such a thing would work here. The idea of projecting himself as a river creature with sleek skin and a long snout was hilarious to him.
Gonyaul diverged from what the others were doing. He couldn’t help himself. He stationed his net like it was the hungry mouths of those river beasts. Then he used the blunt end of his spear and starting running in a wide arc, further away from the fish so as not to spook them too soon, and dragged the spear into the sand below. It effectively created that wall of sand and debris like he had imagined beforehand. He drew a shape which funneled the fish towards the net and continued to converge closer to that point like a fan if seen from above.

At first it looked like he was crazy, running through the shallows of the ocean and drawing in the sand behind him. But soon his plan began to materialize into a rather peculiar sight. The fish fled from the sandy walls he was creating and closer to the net. Soon they were jumping into the net on their own accord in order to try and escape.

Jorveth sat in his canoe, watching the young Vaux man with great intrigue. It was a skill he’d not seen done in this way. Creative. He stepped slowly out of the vessel, pulling it and its occupant Eshaiah slowly behind him. Jorveth tilted his hat away from the sun and waded closer toward the sand wall that Gonyual had made. He grabbed the net from Gonyual and examined it. With a slight scowl of inspection, he found that the catches were not all to his liking. Gonyaul was dismayed for a moment as the older man dumped out most of the fish back into the sea, outside of Gonyaul’s wall. Then the man tried to explain something in Allosi, but Gonyaul didn’t understand.

Jorveth tried again in broken Helian. “Red fish. Bad. Ehh… Poison. White fish. Good.”

He pointed to the remaining fish, one that was white with grey stripes and yellow fins.

“Eh… catch eh… big! Big! ” Then Jorveth traded Gonyaul an empty net and handed the other one to Eshaiah who paddled over to an area where they kept the fish farm. He dumped in the white fish and made his way slowly back towards the others.

Then Jorveth laughed as he had successfully replicated Gonyaul’s method and speared a couple easy pickings.

“Here! Eh… very nice catch,” he waved over Gonyaul to an area where he knew would have bigger or better fish.

Gonyaul’s pleased look of triumph turned to a silent exasperation as Jorveth dumped most of his catch back into the sea. The language barrier made things difficult and resulted in misunderstandings getting thrown back and forth, made more comical as Gonyaul had stuck his spear into the sand to try to use his hands to talk. It was a sight to see from any onlookers from the village.

Eventually though, Gonyaul started to connect the dots. The visual demonstration being the most helpful. He hadn’t considered that some fish might be poisonous. Yet after it was made known to him, it made sense. It reminded him of some of the brightly colored amphibians back home that advertised their lethality with their coloration.

Gonyaul picked up his spear and the new empty net, and made his way to where he was directed. It was immediately obvious that it was a better spot. This time around he tried to practice what the others were doing. In comparison, to using their techniques, he looked like a project with the amount of failures. Yet every now and then he would have a success, enough to give him hope to keep trying. He still liked his shaping a sand wall idea the best though. He hybridized the styles. Rounding up the fish into tighter clumps first before trying their spearing technique.

As Gonyaul continued to adjust his technique, Thirel, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, quipped, “Perhaps thou might try singing to the fish…” he smiled. Like Joybel. It may fare better!” His comment was playful, aiming to lighten the mood.

Before Gonyaul could respond, Joybel, overhearing Thirel’s suggestion, picked up a small fish from the net they had collected and playfully tossed it at Thirel, not Gonyaul, as if to scold him for the teasing but in a light-hearted manner. The fish landed with a flopping splash near Thirel, causing him to jump back and laugh, while Joybel grinned, shaking her head.

“Fish favor my songs over thine jests.” Joybel retorted with a giggle, her earlier shyness dissipating in the camaraderie of the moment.

Eshaiah paddled to Gonyaul, his earlier wariness replaced with a hint of curiosity. “Tis not your first endeavor fishing,” he remarked, watching Gonyaul’s attempts. The teenager stood and showed Gonyaul how to maintain balance in the canoe while spearing, a skill essential for deeper water fishing. Eshaiah’s reticence gave way to a cautious camaraderie.

“Thou attempt it.”

Gonyaul eyed Thirel with an innocent expression. He did not know the boy well enough to discern that he was making fun of his subpar Surathi fishing technique. So he took his comment as a reasonable suggestion. More than reasonable, Gonyaul loved making up songs to sing.

He thought for a few moments and then was about to grace those present with a tune, when he was interrupted by the shenanigans between the kids. He then realized what was really going on and decided maybe he would leave any singing for Joybel for now. Regardless he enjoyed observing their camaraderie and laughing along with them in good humored fun.

Gonyaul concentrated and tried his best to emulate what Eshaiah was teaching him. This opportunity to learn new skills were like finding buried treasure to the Vaux. His attempts started out as pathetic but progressed rather well, especially with the private coaching, to around average. Gonyaul had very good balance and hand and eye coordination, so his motor skills were quicker than most to pick up kinesthetic tasks.

Seizing his next opportunity for a bit of a laugh, Thirel stealthily swam behind Gonyaul who was standing in the canoe. He emerged quietly and gave the canoe a good jostle, tipping poor Gonyaul splashing into the water and causing an uproar of laughter. All except Ylja, who stood at the water’s edge, hands on her hips, casting a disapproving yet amused gaze at the playful scene.

Gonyaul gripped his spear and took aim at a passing fish near the canoe he was standing in. He felt the surge of foreshadowed success as he previsualizad the desired outcome. Suddenly, the canoe without warning rocked. It caught Gonyaul completely by surprise and no amount of balance correction helped.

He cried out in a pitched-based sound customary of his language before falling overboard. A fear gripped him instantly as he plunged through the surface and was completely submerged. He flailed around wildly trying to get back to the surface to breathe, but his swimming coordination was all wrong and thus hindered his efforts to go up. He sank, also impart to low body fat, and for a moment he thought this could actually be the end. And then, not long after he had entered the water, Gonyaul realized he was sitting on the sandbar bottom.

He stood up and his upper torso was out off the water. He was fine, albeit soaked. His chest was still heaving with the fear he had just experienced and he was sputtering out the salty seawater that entered his open mouth.

Gonyaul looked up and around to those present in embarrassment.

The group’s laughter filled the air, even as Gonyaul righted himself in the water. Thirel’s good natured smile turned to an expression of regret and concern and the laughter died. Gonyaul was ok.

Meanwhile Gonyaul shook his head free of seawater and suddenly observed a sea hawk diving into the waters, skillfully seizing a fish in its talons. He tracked its ascent to the cliffs towering over the village's eastern side. Atop the cliff, nestled among the jungle trees, Gonyaul discerned figures perched on the precipice, surveying the village below. Though their forms were obscured by the foliage, he noted their distinct appearances: they were not Surathi. With dark features, tanned skin, and black hair, their attire was distinctly tribal.

Gonyaul stared up at the towering cliffs and even brought his hand up to shield his eyes from the sun. He wasn’t mistaken, there were indications of people up there. He pointed up to the cliff foliage as soon as he realized he wasn’t imagining it.

“There are people up there?” He inquired.

Eshaiah, positioned nearer to the shallows, cast his gaze upward to the cliffs. His expression shifted to one of gravity and wariness.

“The Kitada. They are native to this island and bear no love for our people. We call them Maiyari — the Watchers. They revere the ancient one as their deity.”

Gonyaul made a mental note of the answer to his question. He would need to ask more about this later. Soon even with knowing what he was looking for and where, the foliage obscured anymore signs of what he had previously seen. With their help, he was able to get back into the canoe. Thirel, having feelings of guilt, had gotten in to reach down and be of aid to the boat clumsy Gonyaul.

Gonyaul was smiling in thanks to everyone when he got back into the boat. Without warning, he grabbed Thirel, did some interesting maneuver with his body which spun the lad off balance like a entropic top, and with very little further gestural effort, launched Thirel out of the canoe into the ocean.

Thirel, an adept ocean swimmer, quickly oriented himself in the water and looked up at Gonyaul with an incredulous expression. Gonyaul laughed cheerfully. It was a contagious laugh that spread to all present, even Thirel. Gonyaul could dish it out like the best of them in good fun; a skill absolutely crucial for establishing status and acceptance amongst boys and men.

During their time in the water, Gonyaul seized the opportunity to venture into the shallower waters, where the tide was low and the water reached up to his chest and shoulders, to practice swimming,

The Surathi occasionally switched tasks off and on, allowing Gonyaul to do some canoeing. Together the group secured a few decent hauls of live fish for the village's fishery. Occasionally they would move the fish from their nets to a water-filled bucket in the canoe, and finally into a series of interlinked pools situated close to the shore, nestled under the canopy of broad-leaved trees.