Thus began a period of relative calm for the reshaped company. Slowly
the tiger's wounds healed, and slowly, as he became wiser and more
proficient at setting them, Kalus' traps became more productive. The
reserves were emptied and there was never much to spare. Their
existence was strictly one day at a time, and face tomorrow when it
comes. But what was absolutely needed, the bare-bone necessities, were
through constant effort and exertion, one way or another obtained.
And though Winter was hardly on the wane, neither could it increase or
outdo the storms it had already hurled against them. The fortress they
had made of Skither's cave, as well as the yet dearer fortresses of
mind and body, continued to withstand and endure. And their collective
will remained unvanquished.
And in late afternoons and evenings, when the day's work was done and
nothing more could be bought by their labors, there was time for
reading, conversation and quiet thought. The tiger, once it learned it
was free to do so, often went out into the night, if only to rest just
beyond the safety of the lair; and this, along with Akar's absence,
left a natural void which must be filled with more human pursuits. Even
the cub would turn peaceful, either tired out by the day's doings, or
engaged in some quiet pursuit of its own, chewing at a bone or piece of
leather, or simply working out in dream the wonders and perils of its
world.
For Sylviana it was both comforting and painful to recall herself
through books, and to reveal to Kalus for the first time, the beauty and
torment of Man's elevated walk upon the Earth. That it should now be
all but extinguished was to her an unspeakable and inexpressible
tragedy. Yet she had learned from Ursula LeGuin years before (though at
the time she had not understood it), that the only way to deal with the
horror of a shattered past was to face it, and call it by its true name.
And she told herself that in her heart, if nowhere else, lived the
memory of much that was noble and good.
For Kalus the various narratives, histories and philosophies, continued
to open a whole new world before him. And though it was at times a
pleasant and enlightening escape, on the whole his reactions to modern
society were not unlike the woman's first impressions of the violent
world outside their door. It held wonders, yes, and on occasion,
profound beauty and wisdom. But the accounts of civil war, totalitarian
regimes, torture, famine, real and effectual slavery, environmental
pollution and industrial greed, excited in him the same horror that the
imagined swarm of giant ants had once roused in Sylviana.
Sometimes these responses troubled her, and she felt called upon to
correct his deficiencies in perspective and defend her race. But at
other times his naive and disbelieving comments cut frighteningly close
to the truth. He accepted and took for granted none of the vast
pretenses and self-important doctrines in which humanity clothed itself,
and was therefore able to see a larger picture, or certainly a different
one, than that which she was accustomed to.
For to him Man was not the only, or even the most important species on
the planet, let alone the center of the Universe, and sole concern of
the Nameless. It was perhaps for this reason that he had not been
shocked when Sylviana told him that the Earth revolved around the Sun,
and not the other way around, or that the stars were themselves suns,
parenting similar worlds of their own. To him Man was not the separate
creation of a God unhappy or impatient with Nature. To his mind, if she
understood him correctly, evolution was quite miraculous enough, and
brought him closer to, rather than farther from, believing in a
Universal being. And he assured her that nearly every animal was
capable of some measure of thought and feeling, as real and meaningful
to its existence, as the painful dreams and aspirations of men.
At first he offered few opinions of his own, only gut-level reactions
when they would not be silenced, which the woman-child must then
decipher on her own. Not only did he feel unqualified to do so---the
very word philosophy' intimidated him, seeming a thing reserved
for larger and more important persons---but also, some other sense told
him that it was unwise to speak or pass judgment upon things he did not
fully understand.
But after a time, having whole days to mull over what he had learned
(when hunting, trapping and working did not require his full attention),
he began to speak and question at a level which surprised her. Not only
would she have believed him incapable of such subtle thought and
inquiry, but she had always assumed that he would consider such pursuits
frivolous, and beside the immediate point of survival. Such was not the
case. His mind and spirit hungered, just as the body did, to be
nourished and fulfilled. And in some ways this spiritual hunger was
more acute, since it had been so long denied.
His two favorite writer/philosophers, to judge by the number of times he
asked her to read them, were Ernest Hemingway and Lao Tsu. And this
apparent contradiction puzzled her. She could not imagine two more
directly opposed outlooks, or approaches to life. But when she asked
him about this, he answered more simply and clearly than she would have
believed possible. It was a cold night, but warm beside the fire,
somewhere near the apex of winter. Even the tiger remained indoors,
sleeping in its accustomed place just inside the barrier. The cub
rested quietly beside the man-child, while he gently stroked her chest
and side. Life was all around him, and he felt it deeply.
'I think that the two ways, if I can call them that, are just the two
sides of a man's life: like day and night, summer and winter. They
both spring from the fountainhead of Life, both are necessary; they only
seem different, as Lao Tsu said. He understood the need to yield to
Nature, and Hemingway the need to fight back. They make me think of
Skither and Barabbas. There are times when one is right, and times when
the other---'
'To everything there is a season,' she broke in suddenly,
understanding and taken back by the apparent ease with which he had
arrived at one of man's profoundest insights. 'And a time to
every purpose under Heaven.'
Upon hearing this he became so animated, and insisted so fervently that
she read to him the entire passage from which this was taken, that
despite misgivings she brought out a tattered Gideon's Bible and read
to him the verses from Ecclesiastes.
*
'To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under
the heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to
pluck up that which is planted; A time to kill, and a time to heal; a
time to break down, and a time to build up; A time to weep, and a time
to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; A time to cast away
stones, and a time to gather stones together; A time to embrace, and a
time to refrain from embracing; A time to get, and a time to lose; a
time to keep, and a time to cast away; A time to rend, and a time to
sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; A time to love, and a
time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.'
*
Kalus was awe-struck. 'Are all the things in that book as true and
wise?' he asked. 'Who is its author?'
This was exactly what she feared. More than one newly opened and
vulnerable heart had fallen into the trap of blind acceptance of this,
and other religious works. Whether Christianity was the true faith or
not, whether one true faith existed, was not the point. The religious
doctrines of humanity were simply too broad and powerful to impart to
one in his position: sensitive, struggling and searching. And in this
she showed wisdom or her own.
'I'm afraid not, Kalus. And it doesn't have one author, it has
many. There are people who believed everything in it to be the truth,
suppressing all other voices, even to the point of overriding their own
experience and common sense. But I'm not one of them.'
'There are really people who would do that? Contradict the lessons
that Nature has taught them? I don't understand.'
'That's because you don't know what was at stake to them, or
how deep such feelings run.'
'What do you mean?'
'I'm afraid I can't say it in just a few words, and I don't
want to try. If you really want to learn about different religions,
I'll teach you what I can. But it really should be done slowly. Or
you could be hurt.' She spoke now from first-hand experience.
He was silent for a time, his thought roused and his curiosity almost
unbearable. But he too had learned caution, and he respected her
judgment. One last question.
'Can you tell me one thing at least? How could any book make a man
not listen to his heart?'
She took a deep breath. 'Well. What if I told you that you could
live forever, and never be separated from the ones you love.
Wouldn't that make you willing to listen, and learn how if you
could?'
'Of course! But no one lives forever..... DO THEY?' The gleam in
his eyes was unmistakable.
'No one knows, Kalus. And that's why men cling to religion.
That, and the desire to do good. But that's enough for tonight,
really. All right?'
At first her words had no effect, then. 'Yes,' he answered
absently. For his mind was submerged in questions that had drowned far
more learned souls than his.
In the coming battle he retained only one advantage. His life had been
too hard, the beginnings of his dreams too dearly bought, to be long
deceived and pacified by illusions. His feet were too painfully aware
of the road beneath them, and his hands too calloused from the Herculean
labors of survival.
But this could not protect him from Fear, when cast in this new,
metaphysical light.