Shamane

A scarf woven from odd pieces of silk. Blotches of color and its rough craftsmanship belie the heartfelt sentiment that runs within it. But its owner has long outgrown this scarf to become burly and strong.

Yellow-tinted sunglasses bought at a local grocery store, offering no more protection than regular sunglasses. The interviewee simply feels the bright color suits the untamed rainforest better, and they weren't too expensive.

A ritual mask of a classic design, made of leather molded into the shape of a beast's head. It is said that those intimidating fangs are from a different ferocious beast.

A repainted prosthetic limb with subdued colors to avoid drawing attention from rainforest friends, reinforced with cotton fabric to reduce the risk of accidents when encountering large animals.

"Hey, everything here is different from the mountains back then. I can't wait to dance with them!" Evidently, its owner has found new sources of joy.

Simple and rough in make, it is a mechanical device formed forcefully from commonplace materials that betray a weak hint of Arcane arts. Such slipshod craftsmanship has evidently ignored the comfort of its user. But based on its owner's feedback, the prosthetic has made the children a lot less fearful of interacting with him.

The teeth of some carnivorous South American animal. A trophy isn't always paid for in blood; it can also be a token of friendship—or, of course, sold to local vendors for a good price when money is tight.

It was the primitive ages, the ancient times, the years when people were still part of Nature.

Shamans who respected and deferred to Nature became the pinnacles of human intelligence. A very long time ago and even longer before that, human emissaries piously used dance to commune with Nature. Under their leadership, humans formed tightly linked clans that supported each other so that they lived to see countless sunrises.

After that, mankind obtained sheepskin and fire. Soon after, they obtained gold, power, and cannonballs. From then on, Mankind began to assert dominance over Nature and devoted themselves to hurting their own kind. Wisdom was overshadowed by hatred and faded into obscurity.

The mountains are often blanketed by snow, with few outsiders daring to set foot there. The villagers naturally do not know the new face that hides behind the kind old shaman. The stony-faced youth with one arm. In the snowy mountains, a good-natured mule is much more useful than a crippled man. The old shaman has no shortage of tame animals, so why would they take in a stranger from the outside world?

"He will inherit my wisdom."

The old man sits in the wooden chair as he watches the youth halve a log. There is no life in the eyes of the youth.

It is not time yet.

He sighs and slowly closes his eyes.

That which was lost in hatred must be found once more in hatred.

I hate my little brother.

He's juvenile, pathetic. A naive little lamb. All he does is hopping and jumping around the village, bleating about his shallow and absurd ideals. He's no different from that myopic, cold-blooded father of mine.

"I am truly sorry, Kumar... I don't know how to use the incantation of repair..."

I take the glasses from him.

How awful! What did you use to put it together? Sticky tape?

"Give me some more time! I'll go to the nearby town over and buy you a new pair." He claps his palms together pleadingly and look the picture of guilt. I look down at the holey shoes from which his toes protrude, and stuff the glasses back in my pocket.

"Never mind, I'll think of something myself." I keep the smile on my face and jeer at the foolish idea of him frittering all of his allowance on charity.

You should take a leaf from my book, kid, and be smarter. Though you didn't recognize me, we share the same blood...

"Oh, you're too kind!"

He always raises his eyebrows high when he feels proud of something. "I wish you could meet my parents and show them what a real human looks like. I'm sure you could have convinced them, for sure..."

The laugh is lodged in my throat like a fishbone. I feel a burning in my stomach, or to be more precise, unadulterated disgust.

"Yes," I grit my teeth firmly, "wish I could have met them."

Pandora Wilson: Your behavior reminds me of someone I interviewed in the past.

Shamane: Oh! I'll take it as a compliment, am I right? What kind of cool fellas come your way?

Pandora Wilson: ... They're mostly between the ages of 12 and 16, yet unschooled in proper manners and bursting with energy.

Shamane: Ahaha, Madam, you're wrong this time! But I'm very happy to hear all these, do you know, it's a compliment to be called young at my age...

Pandora Wilson: ...

Pandora Wilson: I wonder what happened to make you change your mind so thoroughly.

Shamane: Ah, it's really cliche, Madam Inquisitor! A healthy diet, plenty of exercise and fresh air. The spring dawns at Mount Sadobanht are priceless!

Pandora Wilson: ...

Pandora Wilson: That wasn't a question, but thank you for sharing anyway.