Chapter #2Mark of the Shapeshifter. by: Unknown Yatsi woke up with a start. Almost as if by instinct. He looked sideways from his bed to the digital clock that stood his cabinet. It read the time to be precisely 05:59 am. Milliseconds later it rang to announce the commencement of the day that lay ahead.
It was quite annoying too. It had the ringtone that resounded of a Kalashnikov rifle firing off a full clip on a shooting range. His friends hated him for it; said it was the worst wake-up call in the universe. And it often resulted in him being bodily thrown out of his collage dorm by his comrades, with cushions trailing behind him. But Yatsi liked it. It was the only sound that would always ensure he would wake up exactly when he needed to.
Today however Yatsi did not need to be woken. For he had barely slept a wink throughout the restless night. You see today was his birthday. More importantly: his 18th birthday. The day he became man in cossack society. A day of great honour for him, and for his kin. All of his closest friends, family and comrades would be celebrating with him today.
In barely containable excitement he went to bath, dress, freshen up and shave his grime away that he had accumulated during the night. He donned his felt mittens, beanie and boots; pulled on his woolen trousers and put his arms through his furry trenchcoat jacket. Ready to face the frosted cold of the russian steppe - although he wasn't as sure facing the day - he stepped out of the musky warmth of his wooden cabin and headed back to his village.
========
7 hours later.
It had been a grand feast. Skinned oxen, boar, deer and hare were impaled and rotating on barbecue-stands that bordered the dining tables, all of which surrounded a colossal hearth which blazed away with the fury of a train locomotive's oven, keeping the longhouse comfortably warm despite the maelstrom raging outdoors in the snows. Vodka, Schnaps, Cider, Ale, drinks of all manners were passed around to keep mugs filled and visitors happy.
Old grey men with walrus moustaches told old tales of struggles on the farm and victories in the army to toddlers; the woman laughed as they traded gossip about the latest exploits of their children.
It was truly the cossack way of celebration.
Yatsi sat next to his uncle Vendreski, whom continued to make subtle hints about him now being old enough to join him in the true tribulations of manhood: bear-hunting on the steppe. Of course Yatsi's mother Liarrsa slapped him whenever he mentioned it, telling Vendreski she would not have her son be use as bait.
Yatsi just shook his head and moved on to see his closest friend, Tesla.
Tesla beamed when he saw Yatsi approach: "Comrade, come here you fool! Congradulations! You're old and over the wall from today on!" And he gave Yatsi the gut-squeezing hug that only russians knew how to give.
Recovering the air that had been forced from his windpipes, Yatsi said: "I'm glad you made it. Please save me, I beg you. I don't want to listen to another uncle go on about how many german tigers he'd managed to single-handedly stop in his days and how much we teenagers of today are a bunch of wimps. It gets old and boring fast."
"Then come here-" Tesla beckoned: "-come sit with us. My sister is dying to see you." he pulled him like a trailer all the way to the corner of the longhouse.
"Yatsi!" a girl jubilated. It was Tanja - Tesla's twin sister. She shared the same jetblack hair as he. "Come sit here next to me. Tell me how your day has been." She scooted over to make room on the bench.
"Full of smoke and too much drinking." Yatsi said as he gratefully snuggled next to her.
"That's my sister you're touching with your vile butt, pal!" Tesla jokingly protested.
"Ignore him, Yatsi." Tanja said as she laid an arm across his neck and pulled him closer into intimate range: "My brother's just jealous that doesn't get to sit this close to me anymore."
"Won't Kakarov mind?"Yatsi asked. He was Tanja's boyfriend.
"He would actually!" Kakarov declared from behind Yatsi. "Get your own girl." he said as he pulled Yatsi into a clamp-like grip that made him grunt. Kakarov was a bear of a man. He stood a full 7 feet tall and had to duck through most door-frames. His size contrasted strikingly against Tanja's petite frame.
After having finished crushing Yatsi's bones to dust, Kakarov rejoiced: "And so we have the man of the hour; the tower of power! Congradulations on your b-day, Yatsi! How's it feel to be slightly less of a loser?"
Yatsis clutched his mashed ribs, gasping: "Painful..."
"Good." said Kakarov: "Now keep away from my girl. There's plenty elsewhere."
"Oh?" said Tanja hotly, indignantly: "Since when am I YOUR girl??"
"That's not what I meant, my sweatings..." it was amusing to see the giant grovel to someone tiny compared to him. Tanja just gave him the hand.
Tesla tugged at Yatsi's sleeve: "Oi comrade! Take a look! Minsc!"
Yatsi's heart raced. His sweatheart! Here of all places? His gaze followed Tesla's pointing finger and came to rest on the woman whom made him feel small all his life.
Minsc. She was the paragon of Slavic beauty. With translucent milky pale skin that was more delicate than porcelain. Her fair blond hair bordered on the side of virgin snow. Her eyes the crystal grey that all cossack women longed for. She had a soft oval face and a cute button nose. And she wore the woolen skirt and ski pants in such a way that Yatsi thought he would faint.
"Just get on with it already, you wuss!" Kakarov intoned from the side, having seen Yatsi's reaction: "I know for a fact she's single. I asked friends. Just ask her out before another bloody year passes."
Yatsi's meek smile subsided to a grim grin: "I did. Yesterday. Asked her if she would come as my companion for my name day."
"Well?" Kakarov asked impatiently: "Why the hell isn't she sitting next to you then, my stupid comrade?"
"It...didn't word." Yatsi mumbled.
"Speak up. Why?" the group was staring Yatsi down by now; he know he'd not get away without telling them the reason.
"You can tell us, Yatsi." Tanja said gently: "Did she say something...or did you 2 just not zing?"
"She...err...to be frank...well...err...she's not into guys." and Yatsi bowed his head in mortifying shame. His friends stared at him, wide eyed.
"Well that sucks." Tesla frowned.
"Awwh. That's such a pity." Tanja said.
But Kakarov came from nowhere: "I don't get it." he said with a blank look.
"That's because you're a moron, comrade." Tesla sneered at his insensitivity.
"Oh yeah, you gypsy scrap collector?" Kakarov retorted. He and Tesla's following conversation then devolved into a shouting mach of the usual rude, crude, crass and vulgar russian humour as insults got hurled to and fro. Tanja tried vainly to dismantle the fight.
Depressed, Yatsi sighed and stood up. He walked onwards mindlessly away from his squabbling companions. He tried to head into the general direction Minsc had disappeared from. He'd lost sight of her.
He was just about to head back to the bar when a skeletal hand grabbed his shoulder and yanked him into a shadowy corner. What the....?
Yatsi looked to see the one responsible only to be taken aback at staring at his oldest uncle: Kohler Kalb. The man was a canvas of scars and wounds, a clear survivor of the Great War. He had a missing left arm from the elbow up and wore an eye-patch over his right eye. Looking downward would reveal a wooden leg. Kohler was always seen as someone scary by the children. He was a bitter, bitter man, and never made an attempt to even be delightful anyone in his conversation. He was avoided by most. Only Yatsi ever seemed to pay any attention to him at all and even then he was unpleasant to speak with.
Yatsi did his best not to be rude by covering his nose in the presence of the man from which a sour odor - the one in which someone had not bathed for days on end - emanated.
"Boy!" he breathed into Yatsi's face with ancient tobacco breath: "So Alendrenski's brat is finally a man, is he?!"
Alendrenski - he was Yatsi's grandfather.
"Yeah..." Yatsi ventured.
"Well isn't that magnificent! To celebrate a fool like you. You young ones celebrate too much. For nothing. For everything. You people disgust me." and he coughed point blank into Yatsi's face which only pulled tightly.
"Is there something I can do for you, uncle? Get for you? A drink maybe?" Yatsi asked coldly.
"Bah! There's nothing of interest you can get me! Unless you're god or something! Can you get me back my leg, huh? Or maybe my arm?"
Yes, Kohler was always so rudely in people's face whenever they offered him the least bit of kindness or pity.
"Then let go of me. Now!" Kohler glared, then released his grip on Yatsi's shoulder.
"Anyway..." he spat on the floor."...I only came to your stupid little party to give you this. Your grandfather, Alendrenski, was the only true comrade I knew. I promised him I'd give it to you, before he died."
And he handed Yatsi a small quaint little dirty wooden box with a strange insignia covering it. Yatsi's face was total puzzlement over this. His grandfather? But he'd never met his grandfather even!
"I was supposed to give this to your father, but your idiot old man passed away and left you for the orphanage. I was instructed by Alendrenski to give this to his closest male bloodline when he turned of age. Guess that's you. Although in my opinion, boy, I'd never have given something as valuable to an insect like yourself."
Yatsi turned the box over. It was as old as the mountains. Looking up he asked: "What is it...uncle?"
Kohler was nowhere to be seen.
Frowning Yatsi went a silent room to investigate the funny little box.  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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