Rivers Run Deep, Tag: Allan

[Elijah Morgan]

In everyone's life, there are good days and there are bad days. And then there are the days were life seems to stop completely, or at least, you wish it did. For Elijah Morgan, one of these had come. It would have been his son's birthday; he would have turned 12. No longer a boy and not quite a man, these would have been the years a father teaches his boy how to become a good man. How to hunt, use a gun, when to fight and when to be be wise... but there was no one to teach now, just ghosts and memories and dreams.

Dreams that could come alive under the glazed haze of too much alcohol. Today Eli couldn't stand to remain at the bar, so he bought what he could, tucked it deep into his pack and walked. And he walked and walked until he had no idea of how far he'd gone or where he was, nor did he care. He was following Sioux, and as long as he had the wolf-dog in sight, he didn't figure her to be leading him into danger. When his lungs burned and his feet ached, the stars were already high above in the sky. Eli stumbled, wadding a few inches into the water of a small river that cut across the land and crouched to bring precious water to his dry throat.

He heard the gentle lapping of Sioux drinking next to him and then, once he'd crossed over to the other side, he fell onto the soft, tall grass. His last bottle was neigh empty and with one last drink, it was done. He tossed it aside, along with his pack. Not even caring to make a camp, he just lay back and he looked up at the sky and stars, feeling his heart ache at the loneliness. Coyote's yipped in the distance and he heard Sioux's mournful howling rise up as he drifted off into the blackness of empty sleep.

When it was still early in the morning, Eli remained unwoken, but restless by the edge of the river. Some small creature was trying to nibble a hole through his pack, daring only to come around because the dog was off hunting her own breakfast for the moment. Birds sang cheerily in nearby trees and only a few clouds littered the blue sky above. It was a beautiful morning, almost like a new dawn.

[Allan Waters]

To'tso'nii Hastiin had been lucky today, he had hunted a doe and he was bringing it to the village, thinking how it would be shared between the clan members, and what parts he would keep for his aunt… and also for Violet. As it was still early in the morning, and for Violet was a working day like any other, aunt Dlozilgaii would cook all the doe’s share, and he’d bring to Violet, tonight, the steak already made, with some vegetables around too… Poor girl, she was so tired lately, how to have the strength and the time needed to cook late in the evenings when she arrived home?

His horse was carrying the game on a travois, and he was walking in front of Akis when he nearly stumbled upon a white man’s body. Dead or alive, as he wasn’t moving? This was To'tso'nii Hastiin’s first thought, before wondering what was he doing on the Navajo hunting grounds and how he arrived there.

He kneeled by the man’s side, and the stink of liquor made him understand at least half of the problem. For the other half, the “dead or alive” part, he took the man’s hand to feel his pulse. Yes, he was alive, only drunken dead.

To'tso'nii Hastiin shook his head. He had a few wild parties in his youth too, but he had never drunk as much as to fall asleep in the middle of the road… or, worse, to trespass on foreign territory.

[Elijah Morgan]

The presence of another person so close to him would have normally woken Eli, but at the moment his responses were delayed. It didn't awake him but he seemed to still sense it, stirring at something in his head that only he knew what. He murmured something, but it would be impossible to ascertain what it was, but it at least proved he wasn't dead and could be stirred.

From behind the two men, the chipmunk looking for crumbs dashed off into the grass, and although the Native man had made it freeze, he wasn't what made it run. Much like To'tso'nii Hastiin himself, the creature who approached was half a born hunter and her more domesticated half had not hampered her skills at stalking. Sioux approached with a warning growling in her throat, her gray and tan hackles rose, teeth reddened from the rabbit she still carried in her jaws as she came close to the pair. The wolf-dog's brown eyes were wide with caution and locked on the darker man whose scent was unfamiliar.

She stepped closer and closer, showing no signs of fear of the humans, but all her body language went to trying to tell Allan to 'back off'. While the rabbit remained limp in her jaws, it would only take a split moment to release it and snap her teeth around something else should her warnings go ignored.

((I'll have Eli wake up next round, but I thought it would be fun to see what his reaction to Sioux would be. ))

[Allan Waters]

When To'tso'nii Hastiin kneeled by the man’s side, taking his hand in order to feel his pulse, he murmured something unintelligible, tossing in his liquor-induced sleep. At least this was an indubitable proof that he was alive. And no, he didn’t seem to be hurt at all, as if a god of drunkards had been watching over him all that time.

A low growling turned the warrior’s attention to the silent-paced predator. If the wolf was carrying already a prey in its jaw and it was still approaching them, instead of going away to eat it in peace or share it with its family, it was obviously clear for To'tso'nii Hastiin that the creature wasn’t an ordinary wolf, but definitely a wild dog defending its master.

The warrior looked fearlessly into the beast’s gray eyes and said quietly, on a measured tone, in English, knowing that if the wolf understood any human language, it was his master’s, exactly how Akis, his horse, understood his tribe’s:

“Don’t worry, Gray Fur! I’m not harming your master at all. The booze has done it already. Good for him that he has at least a trusted friend, as four-legged as you are.”

[Elijah Morgan]

Sioux continued to edge closer, her eyes ever-wary and watching the unfamiliar man's moves. When she had approached, on the opposite side of Eli than Allan was, she dropped the rabbit in the grass and teh dipped her head, beginning the unceremoniously lick Elijah's face.

Whatever dream or nightmare he'd been having, the drunken man was pulled from with teh rough wetness of canine tongue across his skin. He startled awake, one hand instantly going to push against the animal's chest, shoving her away, "Eh! Ugh...I'm up, I'm up you wretched beas--" he cut himself off by becoming aware of the warrior's presence. being met face to face with a Native was a surprise, to say the least. His fear spike made the wolf growl again, but Elijah took a hold of her by the scruff, keeping her back. "It's okay Sioux...I'm okay."

He spoke softly, forcing calm as he looked over at To'tso'nii Hastiin, despite that his heart was beating rapidly. Eli was well aware that this could mean trouble..big trouble, for him, and yet, he was still alive. The warrior hadn't killed, him...yet. "Hello," he said, still speaking in careful, slow tones. His head was still swimming, making it hard to think of anything more eloquent to say at the moment.

[Allan Waters]

To'tso'nii Hastiin smiled when seeing the affectionate wild dog licking its master’s face until he woke up. Then, hearing the dog’s name, Sioux, the smile got a bit wider. It simply meant the man had travelled more, up to the North-East. He also read the fear in the drunkard’s eyes, but he could rein it, saying a simple:

“Hello!”

”Hello to you too! the warrior answered in a rather correct English, even if keeping his tribe’s accent. ”Long and rough night, wasn’t it? How bad is your headache? You’d need a strong tea of marigold mixed with chamomile and something with a blue flower that I don’t remember the English name,” he said on a serious tone, showing his initial training by his father’s side (and some remote memories of unpleasant mornings).

Unlike most people of his tribe who had learnt English later in life, he could pronounce the English letters which didn’t exist in his father’s language. Only “r” was replaced with a throaty “h”, still intelligible.

”But, from another point of view, your headache is a good sign: that you still have your head and scalp where they are supposed to be. Do you have any idea where are you now?” he smiled, so his words could be interpreted as friendly teasing, but not as a menace.

[Elijah Morgan]

Eli was once again surprised by the correct and fluent English spoken from the tribesman. For a moment,he wondered if he was still dreaming, although his headache told him otherwise.

"Pretty bad," he admitted, regarding his headache as he sat up more properly. "Well, I'm fresh out of tea at the moment.." he murmured, "But, I've got another remedy. We call it 'hair of the dog'." this of course meant, the best way to ease a hangover was to drink more and keep the alcohol in your system. As Eli reached for his bag, Sioux picked up her rabbit and then settled down at her master's side, the crunching of small bones between her teeth ambient noise to the men's conversation.

He was peering into the knapsack when Allan asked him where he was. He hadn't realized until then that for him to be speaking to the hunter, he was probably not in New Hope anymore. "Er-" he hesitated, glancing around for any sign of recognition. There wasn't one and Eli exhaled a sigh at himself as he turned back to face Allan. "in trouble?" he replied also with a joking tone. he was pretty sure by this point that his new companion wasn't planning on killing him, but he wasn't willing to bet his life on that face just yet.

"My name is Elijah, this is my dog, Sioux. I didn't mean to trespass, I just..well I guess you could say I lost my way."

[Allan Waters]

The man admitted that his headache was rather bad.

"Well, I'm fresh out of tea at the moment, but, I've got another remedy. We call it 'hair of the dog'."

Allan had heard this expression at the trappers he had hunted with, so he smiled ironically:

”This doesn’t work much. The idea is to help cleaning the body, not to keep the poison inside,” he replied.

"Er… in trouble?" he replied also with a joking tone, meeting his eyes.

Now Allan was sure that he must have understood whom he was talking to – pure blood Natives didn’t have green eyes.

”Not as in trouble as if there was somebody else to find you on our hunting grounds.”

"My name is Elijah, this is my dog, Sioux. I didn't mean to trespass, I just… well I guess you could say I lost my way."

”White men know me as Allan Waters… and I know you lost your way,” he chuckled. ”I lost mine a few years ago too… only that it ended in a prison, and in front of the judge. I was lucky to escape a sentence because my services were still needed… and because the man lived. I don’t have a so sure hand when I’m drunk, it seems,”, he laughed ironically.

Indeed, it had been the last time he had ever drunk the White men’s fire water. And one reason more why he knew the meaning of “Court Martial”, besides having witnessed the scandal with the two deserting soldiers. A secret he hadn’t told anyone.

He changed the subject, admiring again the gray fur of the faithful companion named Sioux.

”What a nice dog you have! At first, I thought she was a wolf, until I saw her devotion towards you. Are you new in town?”

[Elijah Morgan]

Despite Allan's advice that continuing to drink wasn't the answer, Eli already knew this deep down inside anyway, he reached for his pack, pulling it over. There was a flask inside, but just from picking it up, Eli knew it was empty. Damn. Any humor fell away from his face, leaving just a tired looking shell as he gave it a small shake and then shoved it back into the sack.

Just knowing that there was nothing to drink nearby made his body ache for it. His head felt like a train wreck, but that was nothing compared to the heavy feeling inside his chest. He listened to Allan explain a bit of his story, but he said nothing in reply. He was in no place to judge a man about his jail time, or what led to it, nor was he inclined to go about sharing his own story, which left a small time of silence settling over the men.

Luckily Allan spoke again, breaking the silence with something more mundane to talk about. Elijah reached over and ran his hand through the wolf-dog's thick fur. He smiled softly and briefly as he replied, "Yeah. Sometimes I'm not sure if I take care of her, or the other way around. I saved her from a hunter as a pup...she's part wolf. Can't completely break that kind of wild spirit." Stroking the animal's fur made him feel better. Sioux reminded him that he wasn't completely alone in this world. "I am new, or maybe just passing through...I haven't decided yet. Which way is town anyway? I don't even know how far I walked."

[Allan Waters]

Allan looked with a barely sketched smile at Elijah’s attempt to find something more to drink, as well as at his disappointed face when he noticed it was empty. With a larger beam, he offered his own cask, half-full with water, instead. He took care to never go hunting without some water. He knew that it wasn’t what the white man wanted, but it was what his body needed in order to wash out the alcohol.

When he asked about the dog, the man caressed her and obviously liked the question:

"Yeah. Sometimes I'm not sure if I take care of her, or the other way around. I saved her from a hunter as a pup...she's part wolf. Can't completely break that kind of wild spirit."

Yes, that dog was as much of a warrior as he was too… only that she looked more savage than Allan could. His mind ran also to another peculiar dog – Rascal, the one looking as if his half fell into the bucket with wet paint. One almost could line his half white and half black fur.

“It would be really dangerous to try to break her spirit. I don’t like even when people use this word about horses. Breaking an animal’s spirit is an act of cruelty and violence. The animal should learn to love and respect you like a warrior respects his chief. Or as if you were the pack leader. Only then you can rely on her… and you do, indeed. I guess you both take care one of the other,” Allan said.

"I am new, or maybe just passing through...I haven't decided yet. Which way is town anyway? I don't even know how far I walked." the man admitted.

Allan had met several like him, who were feeling out of place everywhere.

“The town is that way,” he showed. “And the grassland is the border between our territories, it is safe for both of us. You are on our hunting grounds now… but I think I haven’t seen you at all!” he winked.

[Elijah Morgan]

Eli looked at the offered canteen for a moment with a hopeful glint, but, before bringing it to his lips he realized that it would be water. Not alcohol, but it was still refreshing. The crisp taste eased his dry mouth and was quite welcomed. "Thank you," he offered, handing it back. Sioux hand glanced up, sniffing the air. She could scent the water, but, as they were right beside a river, she wasn't very interested and went back to her meat.

Eli tuned toward the direction the native man pointed and then dipped his head in a short nod to make it clear that he understood which way to go. He looked back over to Allan, giving the man a more curious look this time. He was not sure what kind of fortunes were looking over him these days that he was found by this particular warrior who seemed good natured and with no desire to kill him, and no other tribesman. It made him a little suspicious, that good fortune would be with him now after all he'd been through.

After a moment, he broke out of his reverie and reached for his hat. The sun had began to shine down a bit stronger. He replied to Allan, "Thank you Mr. Waters, for your temporary blindness. Well, I suppose I'd best be finding my way back into that grassland..." Saying such, Eli made an attempt to stand, however doing so sent his head into a dizzying spin that made him lower himself back down after retching. Well, that was a faster way of washing out the alcohol.

[Allan Waters]

Allan wasn’t expecting Elijah to really drink the water without complaining, like some trappers or army men he had known, that “it goes rusty”, but he did. And his troubled gaze told the son of a medicine man that his headache was still strong.

The man nodded in understanding when getting orientated, then he took his hat and attempted to get up, while thanking him politely. In the next moment, he got down again and threw up. It took Allan a quick move not to get in the way at the wrong moment, but then he gave Elijah a strong helping hand to see him up, and he gave him again the water cask, to rinse his mouth with it.

“Are you feeling better now?” he asked, when he was sure that the man could stand by himself.

Anybody else in his place would have thought something about having to mother a drunkard, but he didn’t. He knew that somebody had taken care of him too when he had been in the same situation.

[Elijah Morgan]

How, after all the times he'd been in a similar state, did he always manage to forget that moving too quickly was not good. Even though, with Allan's help, his boots were now on the ground, Eli still felt like the earth beneath his feet was spinning. He murmured a groan and pressed his head into his palm as if to force everything still. After a moment, he was steady enough to take the canteen, rise out his mouth, spitting the water off to the side.

In the meanwhile, Sioux had gotten up, sniffed at the contents spilled on the ground and then moved to stand near Elijah, placing her weight against his side, like a natural bookend to keep him upright. She turned her deep gaze up at him and he patted her gently with a sigh.

"No," he replied honestly to the other man. Now he could remember why he'd come so far last night and why he'd keep on going until he'd passed out, unable to think or dream and the knowledge was anything but a comfort. He wiped his mouth and spat again, the sour taste still lingering on his pallet. "But I think I can make it back to town. ... It might take me a while, but I'll get out of your hair." Physically, he did feel a little better after being sick and now that he was standing. Still, he might have preferred the feeling of being trampled by a coach, but it seemed the worst of it was over.

[Allan Waters]

To Allan, it was perfectly clear that the man was still feeling sick, and that his headache hadn’t passed at all. He smiled seeing the protective dog, as understanding as many humans weren’t, trying to help supporting him, and looking at him with an… almost worried gaze. Who said animals couldn’t think, or feel affection? He was sure that Sioux was as clever as Akis, Allan’s horse, was. A horse who was, now, carrying the hunted doe on the travois, and this hindered somehow the warrior’s new plans.

"No, but I think I can make it back to town. ... It might take me a while, but I'll get out of your hair," Elijah said.

Well, sincerely Allan didn’t believe the last part, and he would have deserved to be called a savage if he really left Elijah alone in those conditions. But he couldn’t answer exactly this, so he sweetened a bit his opinion:

“You aren’t <in my hair>, and as long as you aren’t so sure on your feet, I’d prefer to be with you instead of letting you at the mercy of anybody else your doubtful luck may make you run into. It had happened a few times to me to drink myself out too, so I understand how you feel. And as there was somebody around to help me then, I’d rather not leave you alone now,” he said sincerely.

He looked at Elijah, then at Akis. Normally he would have trusted his horse to go home alone, but the problem was exactly his load now. What if it attracted any predator?

[Mansi]

Mansi sung to herself under her breath as she bent over to cut a herb loose from the ground, tucking it into her sling, her braid hanging over her shoulder, not acheiving the desired effect of keeping her hair out of her face. She swatted at it as one would a fly. It didn't help. She swatted at it again, irritably and as it swung back into her face, she chuckled at her own irritation, straightening up a bit as she counted the herbs she had already collected, stretching her back. As she took in a deep breath, glancing around her and then squinting at the figures she saw.

Two men... a horse, a dog. One... one looked familar. The way he stood, his gestures, she knew that... To'tso'nii Hastiin. She warily glanced at the other man, but seeing them talking peacefully, her fear left her and she waved, calling out her brother's Dine name, beginning to walk closer.

She picked up her pace a bit as she neared them and greeted Allan with a smile and a nod of her head, but before she began to ask him his business on the hunting grounds today she looked to the white man, distracted. Mansi blinked, looking the man up and down, almost staring in fascination to the point of rudeness. Quickly realizing this, she felt her face burn quietly saying, "Hello."