Finding The Way

© Jennifer Walmsley

Marooned by his clan, Herdia looked out across the lake to the opposite shore. Chief Larka had warned him that the Goddess of Wrath would rise up from the waters to devour Herdia if he ever tried to escape. Now after seven hundred lunar months, he still wondered why the Goddess would eat those who had neither killed, cheated, stolen or committed bad deeds while, on this Milk Moon night, echoes of Mother Nature whispered and rustled around him.

Chickens, Chief Larka had provided, were now settled in their coup. Close by, five goats ferried across from the other side, slept in their pen. Herdia's spear, catching moonlight, shone alongside other tools that enabled him to exist on this lush island without predators. From his vantage point, he could see, above a blanket of trees on the opposite shore, smoke rising and he wanted to believe that it was family's smoke sending messages to him. 

‘My child's only missing a toe,' he recalled his mother's cries though they'd known deformity, approaching manhood, was bad luck to the clan, and that banishment or death would one day fall upon him. Since his arrival on the island, he often saw her shape across the water, gazing towards him. He'd wave and she'd wave back at the sight of her son.

This night, Herdia, tall, strong and approaching sixteen, had grown more restless than usual. Apart from fishing there were no other challenges for him to manfully confront. Then he thought if only he could make a swing bridge to reach the other side and, at that thought, a ripple on the surface of the water drew his gaze down to a dark, familiar head.

‘How are you my friend?' he asked the otter. The otter placed a thick root it at Herdia's feet. Then it turned and scampered back, swimming towards a bank of reeds leaving Herdia to look down at the root in bemusement. ‘Thank you,' Herdia said after another root was deposited on the peebled shore. ‘But I'm unable to eat them. They're poisonous.' The otter shook his head, sprinkling water over Herdia's bare legs before beginning to work at the gathered roots into what appeared to be a thick twine.

When it finished, it looked up at him, intelligent eyes staring into his in a silent message. ‘You clever creature!' Herdia exclaimed, realising with astonishment that the otter had heeded his mental wish to build a swing bridge. Over many weeks, Herdia and the otter toiled until one evening, the otter took one end of the sturdy rope into his mouth and swam in the direction of the opposite shore. Watching the its wake, Herdia realised that if they succeeded, he'd be sent back to the island or be executed as punishment for disobedience.

When the otter returned, stroking its wet head, Herdia said, ‘I'm grateful for your help, my friend, but it's best that I remain here here with you, content that you're my trusted companion,' and he added with small excitement, ‘With these ropes, I'll erect a large, hanging shelter from the highest tree from where both you and I can view the whole world and maybe touch the Milk Moon.'