a n a n s i ☆ d ‘ l o v r e s s
There were many things Anansi knew.
He knew this land like that back of his hand. He knew when the fish would pool around the rushing river, knew where the bears called home, where the deers frolicked, and where the ripest fruit grew. He knew that the quickest way to kill a deer was a swift, mighty arrow through the head and to catch the timid rabbits was to hold patience as a virtue. Anansi knew how his home worked.
And then there were many things Anansi did not know.
He didn’t know that there was more beyond the horizon, didn’t know that beyond the horizon, the white men would come raging fire across his home. But most of all, Anansi didn’t know that these white men would take his family.
Anansi exhaled, a small puff of white emerging in the frosty air. Today, he’d have lived exactly twenty-five moons. This would call for celebration - a large fire and laughter filling the unbearable silence. He would have his first taste of alcohol, his first smoke, and then he’d choose his woman or man - the one he’d spend the rest of his life with. Eight moons ago, that choice would have been easy - kind blue eyes and a gentle smile. But now, there was no one except himself. Anansi was alone. He was, Anansi thought with a heavy heart, alone in the world. He wondered, very vaguely in the back of his mind, if he would die alone.
Tugging the bear-skin fur closer for warmth, Anansi slowly rocked back onto his feet. It was time to go. “Hana,” he uttered, his voice low. The bay-colored mare pawed the ground and huffed. The air was getting colder by the day and Anansi knew well that Hana would soon need a blanket - something to keep his only companion warm and alive. Anansi shivered. Hana was getting old and when she was gone - what would he do? He wondered. He was, without a doubt, the last of his people and the very last to speak his people’s tongue. There was no one else - no one at all - who knew his people’s way. The heavy burden of carrying out his people’s legacy weighed heavily on his heart and Anansi wondered when this loneliness would go away.
“
Go,” Anansi clicked his tongue three times and nudged Hana’s ribs with his heel. And just like that, Anansi was riding.
There was no other tribe that could ride like the D’Lovress. His people had been famed for taming these kindred animals until the white men took it all away.
With darkness slowly settling over the unfamiliar land, Anansi brought Hana to a secluded area just at the foot of a large mountain. He was far from his homeland. Somewhere over these mountains, just beyond the horizon, his people’s bones lay. Somewhere, his mother and father’s bones held hands, fingers intertwined, and just beside them, his sister and brother laid. Anansi, too, would be there had it not been for a strange strike of luck that he’d been called away on a small hunting mission. That day, he’d snapped the neck of a deer and just like that, screams curled into the air like ashen fire.
“
Stop,” Anansi tenderly slid off Hana’s back and patted her neck. He could see age wearing her down now, how her eyes were no longer as bright as they used to be or how sometimes, he’d feel an uneven hitch in her run as she stumbled over a stray branch. Very soon, Anansi would need to find a place to settled down - somewhere far from the white men. Only then would Anansi be able to grant Hana the rest she so deserved.
Anansi spared his bear-fur coat and slid it over Hana’s back, worry reflected in his eyes. “
Stay strong, Hana,” he managed a wavering smile. Sheathing his bow and arrows, Anansi set out to capture dinner and firewood.
For a while, he walked in silence with nothing but loose trousers and the skin on his back. With the air growing colder, the animals had gone to huddle in their private homes. There was not a single rabbit to scamper by. Anansi walked on further, pausing only when his ears caught sound of vicious snarls - wolves. He was delighted - what the wolves would catch, Anansi could take what would be left over.
However, Anansi had been expecting a deer - or perhaps even a rabbit - but certainly not a human boy. The poor child - the son of a white man - looked on at the wolves helplessly, his mouth opening and closing as if to say something, but all these wolves were met with was silence. Only their snarls filled the air. At once, Anansi wanted to leave the boy, leave him to the mercy of the wolves because it was this boy’s people that tore him away from his own people. And he almost did. Anansi stepped forward to walk away but a small nagging in his heart told him to stay. His mother, were she alive, would scold him and his father would punish him. Death was never the answer.
So he drew his bow, drawing his elbow back and aimed.
The sharp arrow struck the alpha wolf in his hind leg and it was the second arrow to his side that made him cower, tail tucked between his legs. Anansi stepped forward, and bared his teeth at the wolves fearlessly, threatening to shoot again. But it was enough and the wolves scampered away, leaving Anansi and the white man’s child alone.
Crouching down in front of the boy, Anansi cautiously held his hands up to show he meant no harm before tenderly inspecting him for injuries. He was thankful when he found none. Should he have found any, Anansi knew he’d have been obligated to tend to those wounds but with the boy undeniably healthy, Anansi could leave. So with a firm nod, Anansi sheathed his bow and arrows and stood without a word. The boy would be fine. Still, his mother haunted his mind. One night - the boy could stay with him until the sun rose from the horizon again. It would be safest then for the boy to leave.
Anansi turned and motioned the white man’s child to follow.
