Outside Context

Jaruub was happy.

He ate well, and his tribe was strong. They had learned the secret of making batter spears than the other two tribes in the area, and were reaping the rewards of their intellect. He had a mate, now. A shy one, but she would be making eggs soon, and his line would continue. He would tell his children the stories his father told them... perhaps embellishing them a bit further.

Jaruub was alone with his mate, Narin, resting under an erte when flashes of light caught his attention. His mate was sitting across from him, and looked to the sky behind Jaruub and shrieked in terror, rising and backing away, fleeing towards the tribehold.

Turning to see what his mate saw, it was an amazing sight. They were falling stars, certainly, but these ones were unique - it was daytime, after all. And they had tails. Long ones. Long as the sky itself. All roughly parallel to each other, but, slightly spread, as if they were making a great fan.

The heads of the stars dipped below the horizon, and as each one did so, they made a great flash - enough for Jaruub to feel their warmth. Stumbling backwards, he was momentarily blinded. When he finally rose and looked to the fallen stars again, only the tails remained. A fan in the sky, but the rods for it were too thin.

He gazed at it curiously, moving back to his tribehold slowly - back to Narin and the shaman. He would know what it was, what it meant. The shaman knew everything.

Then the world shook. Jaruub felt himself get flung into the air, slamming into a tree.

He woke up inside the tribehold, being cooed over by his mate. He cooed back, and his scent asked if it was all a dream. She made no response except to gaze off into the sky, and when his followed hers, he saw a wondrous display of lights, making a great arch across the horizon, spaced just as the tails were. The lights began in the same spots each time, seeming to rise upwards before vanishing.

Her scent responded to his before he asked the question. The shaman knows nothing, so chief killed him. Darup is new shaman, who says it is gift from the gods for their loyalty. Jaruub wondered if something was wrong with that, but Narin put out hush-musk to cover the question.

The tails - spears of the gods, as the new shaman called them - remained the next day, and when one looked closely at them, they could see the lights were still playing off their tops. That night, as the moon began to unmask itself again, lights could be seen on and near the moon, though they were much fainter, arranged into a line with only a slight arch to them, as if making an ellipse. The new shaman declared that this, too, was a gift from the gods.

The world shook again on the fourth day. Jaruub was not launched into anything painful this time, but the ground split to the north of the village, curling over on itself and rising an arm, making a small cliff. The tribe re-pitched its tents, and the new shaman declared that the demons were at war with the gods, for giving the tribe such a gift. Jaruub did not like this answer, but dared not let it show in his scent, as the chief was pleased with Darup's insight.

The quakes came again three days after that. They were more serious this time, and several of the tribe were injured. The ridge to the north grew by a good two arms. Darup spun many tales about his visions of the war between the gods and the demons, but stated that the gods must be trusted, for they are greater. His tales satisfied the chief, even when the world shook again. And again.

The moon waxed, shone, waned, and vanished again. The world shook many times, and more ridges appeared, though they were traversable. Darup's tales grew mightier and grander with each telling, and the chief enjoyed his words. The Drutha attacked that night, trying to win back their mates. Jaruub's tribe had better spears, however, and though some broke, the Drutha were slaughtered.

Darup declared the previous shaman's method of spearmaking flawed, and claimed he had a better way. Every spear must be subject to the fires as he deigned, now. The chief was pleased. Jaruub tried to object, but his mate musked his scent again instead, and hid his spears, supplanting them with false ones. Jaruub knew, but accepted her wisdom.

When the moon returned, it was smaller. The lights about it were brighter now - brighter than any stars in the sky, even the wandering ones. The world shook each day, now, and many changes showed upon the moon's revealing face. It was crossed with many lines, some of them dark, others glowing an eerie red. The new shaman declared that the moon was merely getting sick, and that it would pass.

Sun was getting colder, dimmer. Darup said she, too, was sick, and would get better. The quakes were getting more violent, and the moon did not return from its rest, this time.

The Kharuth attacked before chief asked the new shaman about this portent. The spears of Jaruub's tribe, tainted by Darup's false ritual, broke. Jaruub's mate gathered his true spears, which did not break. Many tribesmen died, but the Kharuth perished at the ends of true spears, and their mates were safe.

Jaruub's tribe was angry with chieftan and new shaman, and they, too, perished at the ends of true spears. Jaruub was new chief, now, and had to select a new shaman. There were many who would vie for the title, claiming they could work magics, make better spears, but to each of them, Jaruub asked a question. His scent posed, "What happened to moon?"

Many answers were given, but only one satisfied him.

"What are the spears that make lights?" his scent asked.

Again, many answers were given, but only one satisfied him.

"Why is Sun cold?"

Finally, many answers were given, but only one satisfied him.

Young Farin, who would be the mate of Kalud, scented "I do not know." to both.

Happy that at least one could answer correctly, even if it was a mate, he pressed her further. "How can we make spears again as Old Shaman made spears?" He knew the answer, of course, but few did.

"Old shaman made a lacquer, of erte root and herbs. He made a different mix for each spear, and it was then passed through the flames."

Jaruub was pleased. "Why did Old Shaman keep using different mixtures?" He scented.

"This mate is not sure. This one thinks it is because Old Shaman was looking for the best mixture."

And so he decreed that Farin would be the new shaman. This upset some of the tribe, who left to form their own. They could not bring any mates with, however, as Farin saw to it that mates, too, would be armed, for few males were left. Jaruub saw this, too, was wise, but had to ask further.

"How do we get Moon back? How do we stop the quakes? How do we warm Sun?" He asked her. She did not know. "Only thing shaman can think of-" She scented as she pointed towards the great spears. "Is to seek them out."

Setting his best spear and javelin, he gathered some basic supplies, and asked that his tribe care for Narin and her hatch. "I go to the tails of fallen stars." He scented. "To seek answers. And hope that we can get Moon back, and warm Sun." They needed Moon. He wasn't sure why, but deep down, he knew. They really needed Sun warm. He also knew that he might not return, and had no idea what he would find. "I name Farin chieftess in my absence."

Narin packed well and thoughtfully, and cooed sadly as he left on his journey.

Were Moon awake, a new one should have passed before he could tell he was closer. They seemed farther spread, and thicker. His journey was a harsh and long one, but he was fast and hardy among his tribe, and traveled far. He had to prove his spear many times, but always, his true spear never broke against the shell of his kin. He took mates, too, but left them behind, as his journey was for his tribe, not for his pleasure.

The rains should have come with next Moon. They were light and weak, made of white and cold. Jaruub could feel the dryness in the air, and the coldness... so cold it burned, he had not thought there could be such a thing. The rivers seemed to be low for their banks, he thought, just as the ridges grew ever higher, each time the world shook. Sun's light was dim, as if day was sunrise and set and if sunrise and set was twilight, and twilight was night.

Jaruub learned from other tribes to avoid the sea. One mate took him to a safe spot to show him, and he gazed in awe at the waves that crashed ashore. Though thousands of arms away, and hundreds of arms high, the water still splashed at them. He had another question that he must answer.

Avoiding the sea made his journey longer. But, he knew he was closer, as the fan was extremely spread. One of the tails was quite close, now. The last tribe he encountered scented of a great waste that appeared when the stars fell. Many of them were blind from the sight of it, and others had burns, as if scalded by a great bonfire. Many trees had fallen, and the dryness was worrying many. The rivers still gave up their bounty, but were slowly sinking, after the weak rains. The quakes were bad, now, many had died, mate, egg, and male alike. From shaking and from cold.

More questions.

The edge of the wastes were not far, and Jaruub gathered water for the journey, and made sure he ate well. He brought as much as he could carry, along with his javelin and true spear. And so, he passed through the wastes.

Ascending the lip of a great ridge, he drank the last of his water and gazed upon the expanse below, and at the great star tail that seemed to stretch forever into the sky. It was height of noon, but Sun was pale shadow now, and gave no more light than Moon did. Jaruub's bones quaked within him. For most of the expanse, he could explain - blasted rock, hollowed out into a great bowl.

What lay at its center, he could not. It was like a great stick of stone, reflecting as if it were a clear spring, but he could not see into it, dark as it was. Where the tail had struck was more of it, doing many strange things, thrusting in and out of the ground as if it was mating with it, making loud, rumbling noises that shook the world each time. And though he could not be certain, he felt as if he and the ridge were tilting slightly, towards the tail.

Before true night came, lights played out across the sky as he approached the center. He saw them last night, too, but they were faint, hardly noticeable. These were great curtains and streaks of light, churning violently and beautifully, as if the heavens themselves were at war.

He was out of water. Unless he could drink the tail, he was going to die here. At least the tail provided warmth, and was not freezing as the land around.

The noise was getting painful, so loud was the motion at the center, where the tail was. Exhausted and dehydrated, he saw a brilliant light come down atop him, as if it were another falling star. He collapsed, and closed his eyes. He had found no answers to his questions.

And he died anyway.