An Ancient Tale #135 (part 1)

The first time the men took me into the circle of fire and
I heard the full tale of the hero, the Gil
I was 48 seasons or 12 anos
Smooth faced and just beginning to learn the hunt
The full gray beards sat closest to the red leaping flames
And told about time before history
The circle of fire was the night time circle of time
The straight tall polls arraigned to time the seasons
Letting us know when the sun will lower in the sky
And when it will begin its rise in the sky again
Here in the Tigerus valley this time table determines our
Plantings and when we bury our dead
Our river provides us plants and meat
Plants grow, animals come to water
I am Zontanabide, son of Quetin, the spear-tip maker
And Bibe, my mother, herb mistress, knowing the property of plants
My father can see into the heart of obsidian stone
Chipping out the strongest tips with flesh slicing sharpness
The flutes he fashions fit tight into the split-top pole
He knows when the sinew is chewed enough and will dry
To hold it all together
He made my spears special for me to kill my lion and
Taught me how to throw straight and true with keen eye
I have my lion tuff tied to my hair
And I’m around to prove both his worth as a spear-maker,
My courage as a hunter
I’ve heard the story of the Gil for six winters
Each time I see into our past with better understanding
The word spinner, Horth, is the wisest man the people
His beard is white and long, his days as hunter are past