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Dialog: Killing Sticks

20 Monday Apr 2026

Posted by petersironwood in America, management, politics, psychology, Uncategorized, Veritas

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books, civility, communication, debate, dialogue, discussion, fiction, leadership, legends, myth, peace, Second Amendment, short story, story, tales, teamwork, Veritas, war, weapons, writing

Original art by Pierce Morgan

As was traditional among the Veritas, before beginning the delving into such a troublesome topic as how to make sense of killing sticks, they sang their songs of the origins of the Veritas. They sang a song about their daily life and another about the dangers of greed and lying (taken from their story, “The Orange Man.”) Lastly, they ended with a song about the forgotten fields.

These elements were traditional, but Many Paths opted to push their common ground even further because she knew this could be a very divisive topic. She intuited this partly from overhearing snippets of conversations as she passed by. She saw the puzzlement and concern on everyone’s face now. And, she reckoned that the idea of a weapon that kills so quickly quite reasonably caused much anxiety. When people were anxious they often shied away from the truth and from exploring many paths before running down one. She didn’t expect everyone to think of as many branches as she did, but she hoped they wouldn’t sprint thoughtlessly down the first path they spied.

“If you will indulge me, I would like us to recount for a few moments, our successes in the Battle of the Three Forks. I do this for two reasons. I recount this victory because it will remind us of our ability to work together and our creativity because in that battle, we used many weapons that some among us invented. Eagle Eyes, as you may recall, invented the slippery slope after watching the ant lion; she also trained the Eagle to protect her and found a way to divert the river. And what was our greatest weapon of all?”

“Arrows well-aimed.” someone shouted.

“Well, those are vital and we have some exceptionally good archers here.” In the mental screen of Many Paths, the image of Shadow Walker drawing a bow sprang to mind. She missed him all the time in the form of a dull ache, but seeing him so vividly in her mind’s eye sharpened the pain as a hot pepper may do to a toothache. She drew a curtain over that image and continued. “I suspect our greatest weapons were being patient and trying to understand our enemies. As a result, two of those so-called enemies were not even actual enemies. In the case of the Nomads of the South, we have formed friendships and exchanged goods to both of our benefits. I recount this tale because it is natural to fear a new weapon that we do not understand. It is wise to dialogue this. Let us do so thinking with our whole brain. Do not become panicked. We have long survived and we will survive long after. So — open your hearts and open your minds. What do we make of these killing sticks?”

Trunk of Tree, being Trunk of Tree, immediately took a stand against the legitimacy of the question. “Before we go any further, I’d like to say our first step should be to verify this rather preposterous story with another witness.”

“You do have another witness,” said Lion Slayer. “Me. I was there as well. We both saw and heard the same things. We surely were not struck by the same hallucination at the same time.”

“There might be many ways for an illusion to occur. I do not fault you, but I am willing to lead another expedition to observe — and even steal this killing stick.”

Lion Slayer slowly shook his head. “ I do agree, that it would be good to find out more, but it will take at least a week. And, once you are there…it is huge beyond your imaginings. In fact, we would have been captured several times except that Eagle Eyes really is just that. But there are at least 100 times as many people there as we have Veritas. We saw what we saw and we came back here without being seen or caught.

Eagle Eyes spoke up, “Lion Slayer’s right.” If you went back again to get an unnecessary verification, that person could be caught. That is not only a danger to the brave persons who would attempt to witness another such use; it is a danger to the whole tribe. If such a one were seen, these Z-Lotz would know that we know about these killing sticks. This may well hasten an attack as they would wish to do so before we learn how to make such weapons or defend against them. And, if such a one were caught, they would surely be tortured for information. Perhaps they would successfully resist or mislead but if they have a weapon such as this, who knows what kinds of torture they might have?”

In the Veritas form of dialogue, it was not necessary, particularly at the beginning to answer point with counterpoint. People just shared their thoughts and experiences. The Veritas actually listened to all of those who had spoken so far. There was a silence as the sun set in violent crimson and the roaring fire began to look brighter with the setting sun.

Hudah Salem said, “I say to you that the Nomads of the south also think it good that we did not fight. It was not our fight. This now, we know more about the Z-Lotz and Nut-Pi. This now, we are happier still not to fight you.”

Many Paths nodded. “So far, the strongest weapon we have found is not a weapon at all, but finding common cause so as not to fight at all.”

Trunk of Tree spoke again, “But imagine that the Nomads of the South had had such killing sticks, assuming they do exist. They may have been less reluctant to kill if it were so easy and so risk-free for them.”

A long silence ensued. The Veritas tried to imagine how having — or not having — an easier, more risk-free way to kill might or might not influence their actions and decisions.

At last, Many Paths spoke. She realized that Trunk of Tree was likely using the dialogue as a way to demonstrate his wisdom and power. Nonetheless, it was more important, so she thought at the time, to seek the truth. “I believe you may be correct, Trunk of Tree. I would add that how much such killing sticks would encourage or deter going to war would depend on how a particular tribe thinks about life and how they reward their warriors and on what basis. All of these considerations must also be in our calculations as well. Eagle Eyes and Lion Slayer, I have a question, perhaps on the minds of many. In this meeting you witnessed, suppose that the leader of the Z-Lotz had not had a weapon of any kind. Would he have prevailed over these other men in any case?

Lion Slayer shook his head. “We cannot tell. We did not get a good look. Neither man seemed particularly — neither of them looked like Trunk of Tree. The one called Nut-Pi was a slight man, not young, but neither was he old. The first two he killed looked to be able-bodied warriors. The last man killed, the one he tortured, was portly. In a fight without weapons — who knows? We could not judge their skills.”

Eagle Eyes spoke next. “As Lion Slayer said, we did not have a chance to see the war skills of either. I can say with certainty that both Nut-Pi and the man we think was leader of the People who Steal Children were cowards. Neither one was as brave as are our warriors.”

Trunk of Tree questioned this as well. “How can you say this? You do not know.”

Eagle Eyes replied, “It is true. I do not know for certain. However, the Z-Lotz leader, Nut-Pi, though he had a killing stick, had numerous guards around him to face these unarmed persons. He used a weapon which easily and immediately killed two men. And yet, he did not use it just once but many times on his last victim. He intentionally and cruelly inflicted pain. Such damage as caused by the killing stick could have killed quickly. He chose to do it slowly instead. That is a bully. He used his power and his weapon to humiliate and cause unneeded pain. These are signs of a coward.”

There was a general murmur of assent.

“The other man — the leader, so I think, of the People Who Steal Children begged for his life. He did not try to help his comrades. As Lion Slayer said, he looked to be one who has things brought to him all his life, or at least recently.”

Many Paths added, “Indeed, we already have evidence that Nut-Pi was a coward. He did not participate in the Battle of Three Forks though he tricked others into fighting. He promised the booty to be gained from the defeat of the Veritas to three different tribes. Surely, he knows one thing cannot be given to three different tribes. He lied to his own comrades and allies. Such a man is a coward.”

Trunk of Tree again spoke. Since he had no direct knowledge of the affairs, it began to seem to many among the Veritas that he was not participating in a true dialogue. This rarely happened, but it had happened.

Trunk of Tree said, “So there are cowards with killing sticks and cowards without killing sticks. From this we learn nothing. A strong leader, who is not a coward could be a very formidable leader and lead his people to victory after victory.” After a short pause, he added, “Assuming such killing sticks even exist, of course.”

Eagle Eyes shot a look at Trunk of Tree and caught his eye. She signed to him subtly so that others might not see, but openly enough that Trunk of Tree caught the meaning of her deft sign language, as did Many Paths and several others. “Do you think I am a liar, Trunk of Tree?” the gestures asked.

Easy Tears spoke next, “Trunk of Tree, we welcome you to share your thoughts with the tribe, just as we welcome the thoughts of everyone in the tribe. But I, for one, would like to hear from others what they think of this killing stick. And, speaking of sticks, Many Paths, perhaps it is time to make use of the Talking Stick as well.”

There was a general murmur of assent at this suggestion. The tribe had not forgotten that not so long ago, Trunk of Tree had spoken against the leadership of Many Paths and even now, it seemed that everything he said was aimed toward making him leader and making him in charge of the killing sticks, no matter what the costs.

Many Paths stood and held aloft the Talking Stick. She glanced around the circles and saw that Stone Chipper wanted to speak so she handed him the Talking Stick.

“You all do know that we use arrowheads and spearheads and that the preparation of such requires work. Yet, most of you do other work, so you do not realize how much skill and how much work is involved in making a good arrowhead or a good spearhead or a really good axe. It may be that these killing sticks require much less work. Or, it may be that these killing sticks require much more work to fashion. We have no idea. We also have no idea how much skill is involved in keeping one or using one. We do not know how much using a killing dulls it. Can it be used ten times? A hundred times? A thousand times? Not everyone is equally skilled at bow and arrow. Not everyone is equally skilled at using a spear thrower. Sometimes, in learning to use our weapons, one of our own is injured. You have all heard how flaming arrows, which seem like an excellent weapon accidentally destroyed an entire village. We know nothing about the dangers of such killing sticks. Perhaps one who seeks to learn to become highly skilled might accidentally kill others or themselves while they are learning. Perhaps we should all have one. Perhaps no-one should. But I believe it would be foolish to steal them from these people of the great walled city, these Z-Lotz, until we know more about them. It isn’t just like stealing their bows and arrows which we know how to use and make and care for.”

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Stone Chipper’s son, Horse Viewer offered his hand to his father who laid the Talking Stick for the first time in his son’s hand. Stone Chipper hoped his son’s would prove wise. “When I was young and first followed my father to help find appropriate stones, I generally walked barefoot. As I grew heavier and my father walked more quickly, I disliked the sharp stones on my feet. So, I began to wear moccasins as most do. This protected my feet. But it also made them softer. Is it not possible that using the Killing Sticks would make the arms that throw spears and the arm that strings and draws a bow softer and weaker as well? That is my thought.”

She Who Saves Many Lives took the Talking Stick and said, “And that is a good thought, Stone Chipper.” Though the tribe awaited her to say more, she passed the Talking Stick to A-OC.

“It is thus with hands as well. And muscles,” said A-OC. “When it is the season to climb the trees and fetch fruit, my skin and my arms both become stronger. But when it is a season of much weaving, only the tips of my fingers are hard.” With that she passed the Talking Stick to Bent Finger.

He silently held up the crooked index finger of his left hand. “It is true that the animals of the forest, the trees, even the rivers adapt as do our own bodies, but not always. Sometimes accidents happen and there is no repairing it. As you see, my badly broken finger never did straighten or regain its earlier strength. This makes me wonder about the accidents that might happen with such killing sticks about our camp.”

P-OC gently took the Talking Stick. “We talk of killing sticks. But if I understand the tale told by Eagle Eyes and Lion Slayer, they saw one killing stick. Do we really know whether there are more?”

Lion Slayer signaled his intention to speak again. Many Paths took the talking stick from P-OC and handed it to Lion Slayer. “It is true, P-OC. We only saw one. That is an important point. In the place where Sadah and I were born, there are many grains of sand. They are each but a very small rock, so tiny that even an ant may carry such a very small rock with no harm. But when there are many many such small stones and they fly together like a large murmuration of starlings, these insignificant tiny stones can kill the strongest among us if he is left unprotected. So, I agree that it makes a great deal of difference if there is one such killing stick or a hundred or a hundred hundred.”

Eagle Eyes spoke next, “I do not know whether there are a hundred or a hundred hundred, but I am fairly certain that there are seventeen. I mean, at least seventeen.”

Lion Slayer was taken aback. “But we only saw one. What do you mean?”

Eagle Eyes explained. “I agree that the number is an important point, so I have been returning to our observations from before we arrived at the giant camp of the Z-Lotz. When we were searching the horizon for signs of our comrades, I saw many — well, 17 to be exact — of such similar sticks being carried among the party. I just thought at the time that they were odd spears or walking sticks. I did not realize at the time that they were sticks that kill so I did not pay much attention to them. But upon returning as I just have to what my eyes saw, there were seventeen.”

Lion Slayer shook his head slowly. “I do not recall seeing any others. But I do believe Eagle Eyes. She is amazing. Her eyesight is much better than normal. It is possible…how do you…you notice so much, Eagle Eyes.”

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Many Paths picked up the Talking Stick and noticed Trunk of Tree wanting to talk. She used her prerogative though and added, “I, for one, believe Eagle Eyes. But we still do not know whether there are 17 or 100 or 100 of 100. This seems important for two reasons. First, a hundred hundred such weapons could be overwhelming while even so many as seventeen might be defeated by our archers. Aside from that, if there are only seventeen such Killing Sticks and each one owned by someone else, then, if we were to steal one to study, we would surely be found out. But if there are hundreds, a few missing would be far less noticeable.”

Trunk of Tree could no longer contain himself, “Wait! A few minutes ago, you were cautioning against trying to learn more Now, you want us to steal such Killing Sticks.”

Many Paths tilted her head toward Trunk of Tree and held the Talking Stick high. “Trunk of Tree, you must wait your turn, even as so must Eagle Eyes and Lion Slayer who were actually there or even as so must everyone. You must wait your turn, even as young Horse Viewer did, though he be only of nine summers.”

Gentle laughter murmured among the gathering and Many Paths continued. “I did not say either of those things. In fact, in my whole life, I don’t recall ever saying that we should not learn more. What I do believe is that it would be wonderful to know more about these Killing Sticks, but I also believe that there would be great risks in trying to steal one or more of them. I did not say that we should attempt such a theft. I said that if we were to steal some and that there were only a few, these Z-Lotz would likely notice that they had been stolen.”

There were nods among many of the Veritas.

Fleet of Foot signaled for the Talking Stick and Many Paths handed it to him. “Many Paths speaks true. I have been thinking of something else though. What would it mean if we had many such Killing Sticks and it were so easy to kill? What would it mean if we could kill with so little effort? Might not the people use them to kill each other?” He looked at the Veritas in the firelight as he spoke.

“Have you never quarreled with your neighbor and raised your voices in anger and tussled with them momentarily. Perhaps you were so angered you went home and plotted to kill them. But that took some thought. And as you thought about what to do, you soon came to realize that you had no real desire to kill your friend. You were merely angry. And so what if she were in the wrong. Your friendship is more important. And, the next day you embraced her and forgot the argument of the yesterday, choosing life and love, in the today.

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“Imagine you had ready to hand one of these killing sticks and you got so mad you stung her to death with it. Your friend is dead. You will never be the same. Now, also are two families devastated. Anger and division will creep into our numbers as never before.

“And suppose,” continued Fleet of Foot, that many tribes all have such weapons? Will they not have such moments and cause wars with the killing of many on both sides? And could these killing sticks not also be useful in keeping slaves?”

Easy Tears added, “Yes, but there are other ways to do that — to keep slaves.”

A-OC took another turn, “Is this possible misuse among ourselves not a greater danger than the temporary military disadvantage? If we cannot safely still such killing sticks, can we make these killing sticks?”

Stone Chipper asked, “Do we have any idea how they might work?”

A long silence followed.

Eagle Eyes said, “I know fairly well what they looked but I have no idea how the work.”

Many Paths spoke, “It grows quite late. We must discuss this further, of course. For now, we must post more guards. Trunk of Tree, will you please consider how best to do that?”

He nodded, glad of something to do and glad of the honor that Many Paths bestowed after chiding him somewhat for speaking out of turn.

“Eagle Eyes, tomorrow, perhaps you and I and Stone Carver and Easy Tears may begin making some models of these Killing Sticks. I would like us to make perhaps seventeen — quite a good number for now — and spread them about among our people. I would like those who are given such to imagine that they are actual Killing Sticks. And, I would like everyone else among you to also imagine that they are true Killing Sticks. I would like to see how people react to these Killing Sticks among us as we continue to discuss what to do. Even though the Killing Sticks are not real, having such a thing — it is much like the masks we use to help with hunting. It will help us decide how to deal. Even such Killing Sticks as Nut-Pi has will not kill all our cousins in the sea and the air, all our brothers that hide in their tiny caves. Life will persist. This I know. Peace now be with you all.” She glanced at She Who Saves Many Lives. Even in the dim and flickering firelight she could see a small nod and an approving smile on the lips of the Elder.

————————————————-

A Pattern Language for Collaboration and Cooperation

Where Does Your Loyalty Lie?

My Cousin Bobby

Donnie Gets His Name on a Tennis Trophy

Donnie Takes a Blue Ribbon in Spelling

The Invisibility Cloak of Habit

Bohm Dialogue

Absolute is Not Just a Vodka

The Myths of the Veritas: The First Ring of Empathy

The Myths of the Veritas: The Forgotten Field

The Myths of the Veritas: The Orange Man

The Silent Screams of Dead Men’s Dreams

Dick-Taters

Math Class: Who Are You?

An Open Sore From Hell

There Never Was a Civil War

Guernica

All We Stand to Lose

Love and Guns

Imagine All the People

The Dance of Billions

Roar, Ocean, Roar

Eagle Eyes Begins to Tell her Tale

19 Sunday Apr 2026

Posted by petersironwood in America, management, politics, psychology, Veritas

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Eagle Eyes, fiction, leadership, legends, Many Paths, myths, short story, stories, tales, Trunk of Tree, Veritas, writing

white and yellow bird shallow focus photography

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Though still somewhat exhausted from her journey, Eagle Eyes felt like pitching in with the preparations for the upcoming feast. Whenever she closed her eyes to rest, visions of flames the size of trees danced behind her eyelids. Even the familiar and normally pleasurable sounds like the beating of drums or the cutting of wood startled her and made her flinch. She could see again in her mind’s eye, the horrible torture and death that she and Lion Slayer had witnessed in the City of the Z-lotz. Though she had very much been looking forward to re-uniting with Trunk of Tree, she felt a strange distance from him upon her actual return.

She spied Many Paths sitting alone and weaving some leaf-plates for the feast. She hunkered down beside her and smiled. “Do you mind if I help?”

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Many Paths smiled. “Of course not. I always welcome your company. And I really missed you. Of course, I worried about you as well. Each day, I wondered whether it was even wise to send so many after Tu-Swift….” Here, her voice trailed off and she sighed. “Damn!” She exclaimed as she cut the inside of her index finger on the sharp edge of a reed. “I have to be more careful,” she muttered.

“That happens. It’s understandable that you still have much on your mind. I hate to add to your burdens, but, can you tell me anything about why Trunk of Tree seems so cold to me?”

Many Paths sighed and sucked on her cut. She took out a small leaf of Witch Hazel from her medicine pouch and held it firmly on her small cut. She looked at Eagle Eyes.

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“Perhaps. I am not sure. I can tell you my best guess, but it is really only that. You should talk with Trunk of Tree frankly and ask him yourself. But you should know this. When days passed and we saw none of you returned, he began to question my judgement as leader. He thought that we should have sent out a massive war party. No, no, don’t frown. I don’t really blame him. I questioned whether I had done the right thing myself. There were so many unknowns. Like so many braves before him, he got it in his head that because he was stronger than I am, he should be the leader. He spoke to others among the Veritas. And, although there were some who were privately questioning my decision, his way of approaching people — he did not gain any real following. In fact, I think he made himself less popular than he had been before.

Many Paths sighed as she finished weaving one plate and began on the next. “I think that in order to make his case more strongly, he assumed or at least argued that all of you were dead — including you. I am quite sure that part of him is quite happy to see you. But at the same time, the return of so many of the search party, notwithstanding that we still have no sign of Tu-Swift or Shadow Walker, has dispelled any slight support he might have had. So, your very presence reminds him that he was wrong — at least about all of you perishing. It still might be that he was correct. Maybe we should have sent out a large war party.”

“No, you were not wrong. A large war party — or what we call a large war party — Many Paths, I have to tell you, the place that we saw was huge. It was filled with uncountably many people. And there were many strange things. Even if all of us had attacked such a place, I fear all of us would have perished. And, I have no idea how these killing sticks worked or how many there might be. But why should he be ashamed of being wrong? Everyone makes mistakes.”

“Indeed, Eagle Eyes. Everyone makes mistakes. It is not worrisome that he was wrong. Obviously, I am happy you and so many others survived. It does bother me that he is so stubborn. But there is more you should know as well.”

Original Artwork by Pierce Morgan

“What, Many Paths? Did he find another woman to take pleasure with because he thought I was dead?”

Many Paths stopped weaving. “Not so far as I know. However… he did approach me. No, no, no. Nothing happened. He thought that since you and Shadow Walker were both ‘obviously’ dead, he and I should wed and rule ‘together’ though it was clear from his talk that what he really meant was that he would actually rule and I would support him.”

“So you considered his proposal? You were willing to abandon Shadow Walker — and me?”

Many Paths shook her head violently. “No! No! I listened to what he said. I never thought that — he is not my — I never thought you were dead. I was — I am still sure that Shadow Walker is alive. I can feel his life out there heading our way. When I received your eagle and the bit of cloth you tied to it, I realized that you had probably survived a fire and that such fire, though far away, had colored our sunsets and sunrises for days. Of course, I showed this cloth to Trunk of Tree but he dismissed it. The two of us never had any kind of coming together. I’m sorry. I know he’s your friend but I do not believe he should be leader. You, Eagle Eyes — you I think could be a fine leader. But Trunk of Tree, to tell you true — I think he is too full of himself to be a good leader. Look over by the chestnut tree.”

Eagle Eyes glanced over at Trunk of Tree who leaned back against the trunk of a very large chestnut tree and glowered at the two of them. In his hands, he turned a large rock over and over in his hands. Eagle Eyes could see the rippling muscles of his forearms. She wished she were being caressed instead of a rock.

Eagle Eyes looked back at her friend, Many Paths. “Are you sure you did not encourage him to come after you?”

“Of course. I am very much in love with Shadow Walker and very sure he is still alive. I am less clear about Tu-Swift. But in any case, I was also sure that you were alive as well. I wouldn’t betray you. I can’t imagine myself with Trunk of Tree even if you and Shadow Walker were both dead. You have good reason to be exhausted and yet here you are — you’re helping me make plates. Trunk of Tree has mainly been busy stirring up trouble, frankly, and there he sits while nearly everyone else is aiding to make the feast. I admire his strength. I admire his courage. He is good looking. And he is a good leader on the battlefield, but he wants to make everything a battlefield. An idea comes to him and he wants to immediately do it without thinking through the consequences. No. Not for me. I did not lead him on, I assure you. Not even a little.”

Eagle Eyes did not want to believe bad things about Trunk of Tree. But she knew her friend Many Paths to be honest and open-hearted. “I believe you, Many Paths. Of course I do.”

“Thank you, Eagle Eyes. Thank you.”

They wove plates for a time in silence. Many Paths said, “But tell me more about your adventures! What did you see on your journey?”

“Oh, we do have other discoveries to share, though surely none are as important as the killing sticks

“I agree, Eagle Eyes, but what other discoveries?” asked Many Paths.

“Take a look at this!” Eagle Eyes drew from her pack a strange object shaped like a brick. She took two sides of the brick and opened it to reveal a host of white cloths inside. “These very thin hard cloths or skins make excellent tinder for fire starting. It’s a clever arrangement to carry so much tinder in such a small space.”

Many Paths took the strange object from Eagle Eyes. As she examined it, she quickly realized that each of the skins was nearly filled with odd stick figure drawings. “Look here, Eagle Eyes. Each of these skins, if that’s what they are, has many markings. Someone went to a lot of trouble to draw that many little pictures.”

Eagle Eyes took back the weird object and glanced through all the layers. “You’re right, Many Paths. It’s true; there are a sea of them, each one different from any of the others. Yet, these two are the same, and these. Wait. No, they are not all different, but there are many different types of pictures.”

“How odd.” Many Paths turned the object over and over in her hand. “It cannot be a story because then the pictures would change from beginning to end. Why would they do this? For decoration I suppose, but you can only see a few hundred at a time and the object itself doesn’t look durable. Maybe it has some religious significance? Is it not true of the Z-Lotz that they are very religious?”

Eagle Eyes nodded. “They make a show of religion, from what we understand. But, it may be a ruse. We shall see.”

“Anyway,” said Many Paths, “this also prevents a mystery, but does not have the priority of your disturbing news about killing sticks. What else did you see?”

“We found a door. It was made of something so strong and hard. It was as hard … it was as hard as ice, but unlike ice, you could not break it or chip it. And, it was heavy. It took many strong pushes to open that door. We saw more of this odd material in the large walled camp. But let me ask you another question. Why are you sure Shadow Walker is alive?”

“I cannot really explain it. I feel connected to him. Of course, I feel connected to Tu-Swift as well. But when I take out the Sixth Ring of Empathy…it could just be wishful thinking. I also feel that Shadow Walker will do everything possible to ensure the safety of Tu-Swift. When I touch the Sixth Ring of empathy, I often feel that he is doing the same. It could be delusional, but somehow, I don’t think so.”

After a moment, Many Paths looked about her and saw that the Veritas were beginning to gather for a feast. She could only perceive small snippets of conversation, but there was a general air of excitement. People were glad that so many of the Veritas had returned and it appeared as well that some sort of vengeance had destroyed the village of the People who Steal Children though it was their own fire arrows that destroyed them. Everyone was eager to learn what others had seen most recently.

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When it came time for storytelling, though she didn’t know all the details, she strongly suspected that the tale of Eagle Eyes would be the most dramatic. But she was reluctant to end all the tales with the tale of the killing sticks. She judged it better, on balance, to begin with Eagle Eyes and Eagle Eyes agreed.

As Eagle Eyes stood to begin her tale, she realized for a moment that she was tired, very tired. But she was home. She glanced around and caught the eye of Trunk of Tree. She smiled at him and he seemed to give a genuine smile in return. Of this much she was sure. Like everyone else, he very much wanted to hear her tale. She decided that though she would look at everyone, she would return her gaze to Trunk of Tree. She would make him feel as though he had been with her the whole time. In this way, she hoped to bond them once again with her experience which could become their common experience with a decent telling.

She began: “You all remember that at the feast of Beltane, we were attacked by surprise with People who Stand on Horses. And these people had fire arrows to destroy as though they had forgotten the Legend of the Orange Man. We discovered that Tu-Swift, the brother of our leader Many Paths, was missing. To our great horror, we discovered that these People who Stand on Horses are also a People who Steal Children.”

Original Masks by Sarah Morgan

———————————————————-

The Myths of the Veritas: The First Ring of Empathy (Book 1 starts)

The Myths of the Veritas: Feast and Fire (Book 2 starts)

The Myths of the Veritas: The Orange Man (An older, isolated tale).

Introduction to a Pattern Language for Cooperation and Collaboration.

Index to Patterns so far.

Dick-Taters

Love and Guns

The Silent Screams of Dead Men’s Dreams

All We Stand to Lose

Fish Have no Word for Water

The Crows and Me

Tu-Swift’s Vengeance

20 Friday Mar 2026

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, politics, psychology, Uncategorized, Veritas

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Tags

courage, empathy, ethics, fiction, Justice, leadership, legend, mercy, myth, short story, story, Veritas, writing

Tu-Swift heard something and dropped to the ground instinctively. He nearly screamed aloud from the sudden explosion of sparkling white pain that shot through his knee. He panted to help squelch his scream and reduce the pain. He stared through a gap in some fencing. His body now flooded with adrenalin, his thoughts once again raced ahead. What was that furry thing in the distance?

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Wolves! Of course, he thought. Lucky I am downwind! They will be hungry and looking for food. These appeared to be mere pups. They don’t send pups out first. Perhaps the pack has all been destroyed in the fire and only these two — wait! Those are the ones Many Paths befriended! And there’s Shadow Walker! He’s limping. What happened to him? And what is he…he glanced at his own sword. He’s got one of these. But Shadow Walker was being cautious. Perhaps he sees more wolves? Or, the People Who Steal Children?

Just then, Shadow Walker begin secret whistle-talking, hiding his message in the surrounding birdsong, much as a stalking cat creeps hidden in the tall grass and only moves when the wind sighs. Shadow Walker was asking whether Tu-Swift was there. Tu-Swift nearly shouted out that he was here, but caught himself just in time. He whistled back that he was here and asked if it was okay to come out of hiding.

Shadow Walker whistled back that to be cautious but to make yourself visible to me and I will make myself visible to you.

Tu-Swift now smiled. His smile widened. He was so happy, it took him three tries to purse his lips enough to whistle back: “You are already visible to me.”

Shadow Walker snorted and then he really laughed aloud. He knew it to be rash but he had been so tense, frightened, worried, angry for so long that the relief came unbidden.

In body, both of these Veritas were hobble-legged and jerky; they nonetheless closed the gap between them quickly, but not so quickly as the wolf pups who were at Tu-Swift in a flash. He smiled deeply at their obvious joy in seeing him again. He felt his shoulders and neck relax. Then, he fell into a long embrace with Shadow Walker. They felt such mutual relief in their reunion that thoughts of the dark and evil days they had just lived through did not invade the consciousness of either one of them for a time. Yet, both of them held fast to the hilts of their new-found swords.

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Shadow Walker and Tu-Swift both began to speak at once. Then, out of mutual respect, both stopped. Shadow Walker stopped out of respect to the exuberance that emanates and animates the young in general and to the survival of Tu-Swift. Tu-Swift respected the age and experience of Shadow Walker.

After a pause, Tu-Swift began again, “What happened to you? Where are the others? Are there more of the People Who Steal Children still about? Did you see any horses? How is Day-Nah?”

Shadow Walker smiled and put up his hand. “Wait. Wait. I have questions for you as well, but quickly and one at a time, I will try to answer yours first. I sprained my ankle running from the fire. I don’t know about Eagle Eyes and Lion Slayer. So far as I know Day-Nah is okay, heading back to our Center place with Fleet of Foot, Easy Tears, and Hudah Salah. I did slay one of the People Who Steal Children on the way here. But wait. You asked whether there were any more. Did you see some?”

“Oh, yes. There are four under the armory, or what used to be the armory. Three women and one badly wounded man. He was one of the ones who oversaw me when I worked with the horses. I came out here to find some yellow dock to staunch his wounds.”

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Shadow Walker shook his head. “What? Four of them? What sorts of weapons do they have? Why are you helping them? This man who enslaved you?”

“They have no weapons,” Tu-Swift began. “He — he’s hurt — and in a lot of pain. I don’t think he’s a threat. These are not really soldiers. They are…just people. They could not outrun the fire. They managed to survive in the cellar beneath the armory. Should I not heal him? But anyway, there is nothing growing anywhere near. I can’t travel far as yet. I fell badly and twisted my knee.”

Shadow Walker nodded. “Ah, those odd tracks were your odd tracks. Crutch and all. Where did you get one of these?” He held aloft his sword and regarded it, still impressed at the feel of it.

Tu-Swift replied. “It was in the armory. It is sharp! But also — so hard. I think it would slice right through most of our weapons. How did you get yours?”

Shadow Walker’s tone became somber as he answered, “One of the People Who Steal Children came at me with it. I had no weapon to speak of. I was lucky to survive. He fell onto a sharp tree stump and perished. I helped him end his life more quickly.”

Tu-Swift looked into Shadow Walker’s eyes and said softly, “So, you also believe in mercy for our enemies?”

Shadow Walker frowned. “I’m not sure. But let’s see these People Who Live in Cellars and find out what their story is. Lead the way.”

Tu-Swift began hobbling toward the armory. After a few feet, he felt a tap on his shoulder. Shadow Walker held out a bunch of dried leaves.

Tu-Swift exclaimed, “Yellow dock! But where did you get it?”

Shadow Walker, “Not around here. When I escaped the fire, I found some near a creek to help heal my sprain. I’m not that swollen or pained any more, though I still cannot really walk very well. You can use this on your friend.”

It was Tu-Swift’s turn to frown. “I would not call him my friend. He was the least cruel of the three main overseers we had. And he was almost decent to the horses too. Almost. Anyway, if we have the power to heal, it seems we should. I’m sure that’s what Many Paths would do.”

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Shadow Walker sighed a long sigh. “Are you sure? I’m not. She just became leader and one disaster after another has befallen the Veritas. You were stolen. Several of our guards were murdered. Somewhere in this land, there are eight of us. But I only see you. You are the only one I can be certain is still alive. I’m not so sure Many Paths would chose mercy for any of the People Who Steal Children. Do they really deserve it?”

“You could be right, Shadow Walker. One cannot ever know for certain how someone else will react to the pressure of the moment. But she did once say to me that mercy that is deserved is not really mercy. It is fairness. It is justice. But it is not mercy.”

They had arrived at the entrance to the armory. Shadow Walker placed his arm on Tu-Swift. “You may be right, Tu-Swift, but I know one thing for certain. Many Paths would think for a long time of all the pros and cons before taking action, right?”

Tu-Swift chuckled. “I get your point. Sometimes she does go on and on and on about various possibilities. But when it’s necessary to act quickly, she acts. She doesn’t always discuss. Her natural bent is toward kindness to all things.”

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Shadow Walker nodded slowly. “Yes. You’re right. Look, this may yet be a trap. Let me stand here while you pull up the cellar door. That handle…”

“Yes, it’s the same weird stuff our swords are made of. I know. Okay, here, let me ease down and I’ll pull it open. But I don’t think you will face a hail of arrows or the tip of a sword, although I am sure Many Paths would advise us to be prepared for anything!”

Shadow Walker smiled at Tu-Swift. “Agreed.”

Tu-Swift pulled on the cold, hard ring of the trap door. Slowly, it creaked open.

————————————————————————-

The Creation Myth of the Veritas.

The Myths of the Veritas: The Orange Man.

The Myths of the Veritas: The Forgotten Field.

The Beginning of Book One.

The Beginning of Book Two.

The Pros and Cons of AI.

Where Does Your Loyalty Lie?

My Cousin Bobby

What About the Butter Dish?

The Ashes of ROI

14 Saturday Mar 2026

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, management, psychology, Veritas

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coping, fantasy, fiction, greed, grit, legend, life, mercy, myth, politics, ROI, short story, story, Veritas, writing

The make-shift crutch that Tu-Swift fashioned for himself worked pretty well. He made a few adjustments along the way; for example, roughening up the grip so his hand wouldn’t slip and tying some sphagnum moss round the upper cross-piece. Tu-Swift forced himself to use all his skills to remain unseen. It felt to him that this was a complete waste of time, but he did it because tingles of intuition can be accurate…or they can be completely misleading. At least, that’s what She Who Saves Many Lives said and so did Many Paths.

Suddenly the image of Many Paths playing “Stalked and Stalker” with him last autumn flashed into his mind. It burned so vividly that he could smell the autumn leaves. She had hidden beneath the hanging roots of an over-turned tree. Many Paths had also obliterated any sign of her path. Instead of searching, Tu-Swift had closed his eyes and imagined he was Many Paths. Then, he opened his eyes and scanned them over the landscape, not to find Many Paths but to be Many Paths trying to find herself a good hiding place. The first place he had spotted was the over-turned tree. Indeed, Tu-Swift had found her very quickly. He had explained his intuition; he had been quite proud of it. Many Paths, however, praised him but then also warned him that such intuitions were not always correct. It’s fine to try but don’t assume it will always work or be accurate, she had warned.

Tu-Swift brought himself back to the present. Hadn’t he been half day-dreaming when the People Who Steal Children kidnapped him? Perhaps if he had been more vigilant…. And yet, he could not shake the eerie feeling that he alone existed in the entire universe. His plan for pre-cooked meat soon revealed itself to be smoke.

He found many small cooked animal corpses all right and one burned deer, but they were all burned to a crisp. They were nearly indistinguishable from the corpses of fallen trees. I will continue to be wary, he promised himself, but if I were one of The People Who Steal Children and I saw a forest fire coming my way, I would not head back out into the forest and plain! I would try to get away from it. Head for dessert or water. I might grab a few things, but I’d be trying to save my life. I wouldn’t be interested in organizing or joining a search party for some missing kids. Not even ones that are mischievous enough to let out your horses. Well, they would be pretty upset about that one. Yes, they might put a price on my head for that. But they may not even know it was me. Unless they captured Day-Nah.

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Day-Nah, Shadow Walker, Fleet-of-Foot — who knew whether any of them were okay? I barely outran the fire myself and I’m already one of the fastest in the village. Well, not now, maybe, but I was. And, soon will be again. I hope. What if…what if I can’t run? Bear Bite used to be a fast runner too. But never after that bear chewed the back of his leg. So, some injuries you never get over. All the more reason for continued caution.

What Tu-Swift now lacked in mobility, he attempted to compensate for with thoughtfulness. Despite having the feeling that the woods were empty, he constantly scanned the surrounding area, not only for signs of approaching enemies but also for possible hiding places for himself and for places that would not be thought of by The People Who Steal Children.

In this tense manner, Tu-Swift continued to hobble through the margin of the burned forest until he found himself at the edge of the very village he had worked so hard to escape. The entire area looked like the morning after a giant’s campfire. Parts of many building stood, charred and darkened spikes; they were everywhere. He could see one blackened side of the barn still standing. Tu-Swift began to walk toward it when he heard a moan. It could be a trap he thought.

Tu-Swift turned his head this way and that. He thought to himself: That the sound seemed to be coming from the remains of building where I put the broken quills and bows. Speaking of which, what weapon do I have? I can use the sharp rock I brought with me. And, the crutch which I could use as a club or as a thrusting weapon. There were more weapons in that room. At least, I think so. They may have all been taken out.

As he cautiously hobbled toward the entrance, Tu-Swift heard the moaning growing louder.

More likely than a trick, he thought, would be a survivor of the fire, badly burned or broken, but still possibly quite dangerous. I can’t really count on anything, Tu-Swift thought to himself. You can be sitting at a feast enjoying yourself and then you wake up in a cell. These people kidnapped me. They stole Day-Nah as well and they are mean to the horses. Why do they steal kids? Whoever it is, they can suffer in pain. In fact, I might be able to add to it. Why don’t they leave other people alone?

By the time Tu-Swift reached what used to be the doorway of the armory, he had managed to generate a good deal of hate toward the moaner. Tu-Swift had imagined cautiously peering in as he opened the door, sharp rock at the ready. But there was no need. Part of the door and frame remained standing but there was a wide gap on either side. He peered into the charred skeleton of the building. His eyes fastened upon something on the far wall. As he drew nearer, he could see that it was a sword. A far better weapon, he thought, than a sharp rock. Using it and the crutch will be a challenge, he thought. He picked it up and felt the blade.

It was sharp like the Veritas weapons, but it was smooth; it was even. It felt immensely powerful in his hand. Tu-Swift again heard the moan and it seemed to be emanating from the earth below him. After hobbling about in the mostly empty armory, Tu-Swift found a large door ring on the floor. It seemed to be fashioned from the same kind of stuff as his newly acquired sword. He pulled up the door and he could see a staircase before him. He lay on the floor and peered over the edge. He could see four shadowy figures who seemed to wave about in the dim light. They began talking excitedly or some of them did. The moaning continued. One of them drew near and Tu-Swift clutched his sword more tightly.

Even in the dim light, Tu-Swift could see that a beautiful young women stood below him talking. But he had no idea what she was saying. It was that same language all these child-stealers spoke. Maybe he should kill her, but he didn’t really feel like it. Two more figures joined the young lady. They were all female. But one figure, the moaning figure, remained rolling and writhing on the floor in the shadows.

Suddenly, Tu-Swift recognized the voice despite it’s inhuman quality. It was the one that he and Day-Nah had called “The Fat Man.” He had actually been the nicest of the three that made them cull horses and shovel manure, but he was one of them – the People who Steal Children. He had a sudden vision of ending the man’s life by thrusting his sword through his belly button. For a split-second, Tu-Swift recalled that image of himself on the right when his mind had been trifurcated. He pushed that image aside.

Tu-Swift slowly descended the staircase, awkwardly carrying his crutch and sword with him. When he reached the bottom, he gestured for the three women to move away from him. Cautiously glancing all around, he made his way over to The Fat Man. His young eyes adjusted quickly to the dim light. The Fat Man turned toward him and Tu-Swift nearly vomited at the sight. He had never seen someone with such a disfigured face. Once again, he was tempted, this time out of mercy more than anger, to end this man’s anguish. He looked into his eyes. It was one thing to hate an enemy in one’s mind and even kill them there — but it was quite another to look your enemy in the eye and kill him in real life.

Instead of thrusting a sword through the belly of The Fat Man, he gestured to him that he would go and come back with some plants to help heal his body. All four of the People Who Steal Children were now jabbering at him. It seemed they were asking questions, but he couldn’t even be sure of that. I should really learn more languages, he scolded himself.

Tu-Swift ascended the staircase, this time sitting on the stairs and going up one at a time. He had a plan of which plants to gather. He had noticed them near the corral. Once he made his way back outside however, he surveyed the camp and realized that these herbs would have been destroyed along with everything else. Trees, buildings, animals, plants, healing herbs, beautiful flowers, food supplies — it had all been destroyed. Tu-Swift promised himself that he would collect a small piece of charred wood to remind himself of the destructive power of fire — and of greed and lying — as personified in the Myth of the Orange Man. If he ever returned to the Veritas Center Place, he swore he would look at it every day and remember the face of The Fat Man.

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———————————

The Myth of the Orange Man

The Start of the Myths of the Veritas

The Beginning of Book Two of the Myths of the Veritas

The Silent Screams of Dead Men’s Dreams

The Crows and Me

There Never Was a Civil War

Somewhere a Bird Cries

Who Won the War?

Peace

Guernica

Imagine All the People…

The Dance of Billions

Too Many Tu-Swifts?

10 Tuesday Mar 2026

Posted by petersironwood in America, creativity, psychology, story, Uncategorized, Veritas

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coping, dissociative state, dreams, fables, fantasy, fiction, gratitude, hope, leadership, legends, myths, psychology, short story, stories, strategy, truth, Tu-Swift, Veritas, writing

{Translator’s Note}: Sometimes, when one finds oneself in an emergency room, they ask you to rate your pain on a ten point scale. It seems that the Veritas had quite a rich and varied vocabulary for pain — and for pleasure. Although it is clear that the Veritas could count (at least that; though the academic debates are raging now about how they could have made the astronomical predictions that they apparently made without advanced mathematics), they would have found the concept of “rating” pain or pleasure bizarre. Even in my own childhood, the idea of rating something as complex as a movie (let alone a human being!) on a numerical scale would have seemed preposterous. As for the Veritas, precisely because they have so many dimensions and nuances of pain, there are not very many instances of any particular token. So, what follows is, as always, my best effort attempt to describe the pain of Tu-Swift.

Tu-Swift literally forgot who he was; or, more precisely, Tu-Swift trifurcated. The Tu-Swift that he considered to be him found himself embedded in stickiness, as though he were a hapless bug caught in the web of an onrushing horror of hairy legs and giant fangs. Yet, the more he struggled, the more entrapped he became. He could sense but not really see the spider. He could not even control his eyes. An invisible force focused them on the scene ahead where two other versions of Tu-Swift struggled with each other.

Tu-Swift (the observer) felt a surge of pride at the image on the right. He appeared taller, stronger, prouder looking than he had ever remembered feeling. But despite the outward beauty, something was wrong here. Instead of being connected to life in general and the Veritas in particular, he felt himself to be “it” – the only thing that mattered. From that odd perspective, he didn’t have to “know” how things worked and how to solve problems. He only had to tell a convincing story convincingly — so convincingly that people would mistake it for the truth. He felt strong when he looked at this shadowy reflection of himself; strong, and a little ashamed. He felt ashamed because he recognized that that had been pretty much how he saw the world when he was yet a toddler. Still, it was tempting. In a way, it would be so much simpler never having to know what is actually true; never having to take the needs of others into consideration.

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On the left, the Tu-Swift avatar looked small and somehow — broken. This version of himself made him feel weak and powerless. It (he) sat cross-legged on the grass and petulantly broke blades off. Tu-Swift spoke to the boy. “Get up! Get up!”

The boy on the left spoke back. “I can’t. It’s too much effort. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Look!”

The boy pointed at something behind Tu-Swift. He struggled mightily to turn to see what it was, but he could not turn his head. But he could feel the searing heat of the spider. He could only stare at the two boys before him and suddenly, he saw the boys disappear into a web of memories. He did not have to be exactly like the boy on the right or exactly like the boy on the left. He could pick and choose the situations when he wanted to be one or the other, but he was in no way limited to those two boys. He could pick and choose from everyone he ever met. Why had he not seen this before? It was like choosing a mask or garb for a ritual dance. Only … it need not be superficial. Thinking like Many Paths — that was more than putting on a mask. I think better with her.

He grabbed what he wanted from each of the two boys and immediately felt the searing heat of the monster that burned and blackened everything before it. Tu-Swift began rolling. His pain changed from an ember of deeply burning ruby red to a thunderstorm of flashing blue light and every bolt struck deep into the knee of Tu-Swift. Each bolt exploded outward in further flashes of blue so that, for a moment, his entire left leg erupted in blue pain.

After a few such rolls, Tu-Swift felt the freezing cold of rushing water. It stung and made him catch his breath, but it felt wonderful and somehow safe. But cold. What’s wrong with my knee, he asked himself. “Where is everyone?” he said aloud. His thoughts now began to once again unravel as he muttered to himself.

“Need … to take … inventory. Right knee. What is wrong with you, knee?” Tu-Swift, in his altered state, half expected he knew and answered himself back. “But something … something is very wrong. I fell. Need shelter.”

Near the river bank, on one side, lay hard rock cliffs. Tu-Swift managed to crawl into a cleft in such a cliff. His self once more disintegrated.

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This time, instead of seeing two other versions of Tu-Swift, he saw everyone he had ever encountered, or at least, that is how it seemed. Just as he had always been able to hear the voice of Many Paths offering apt advice, he now realized that he could get advice from anyone in the tribe; or those of other tribes; even from the People Who Steal Children.

Tu-Swift imagined the voice of Shadow Walker calling out and showing him how to speak with drums or the sounds of birds. Those turned out to be important skills and he was filled with gratitude for Shadow Walker. And, he imagined he could hear the memory of Hudah Salah also calling out his name with her strange accent. It was exciting to think that people could speak so that only some might understand. Of course, he had been told that there were other tongues besides that spoken by the Veritas people. But it wasn’t until he had really heard such voices that he understood how important it could be to know other languages. Now, it was real and he was filled with gratitude for Hudah Salah for opening his eyes.

Tu-Swift realized that his own eyes were extremely tired. And he mentally waved farewell to the multitude of people out there ready to lend their knowledge to whatever task was at hand. He closed the eyes of every Tu-Swift he could and fell into a deep, unknowing sleep.

————————————————————-

The Creation Myth of the Veritas

The Myths of the Veritas: The Orange Man

An Essay on Gratitude

Life Will Find a Way

Math Class: Who Are You?

The Self-Made Man

Somewhere a Bird Cries

The Myth of the Orange Man

The Impossible

Is a Dream?

Imagination

Post Fire Blues

09 Monday Mar 2026

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, management, psychology, Veritas

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cruelty, fantasy, fiction, forest fire, greed, innovation, leadership, legends, myth, narrative, rescue, ROI, search, short story, story, truth, Veritas, writing

BRILL-BRA was beside himself with rage. It became clear that his entire village would be destroyed. Damned Veritas, he thought, I will destroy every last one of them if it’s my last act on earth. People were in such a panic to grab their possessions and leave, many of his subjects were ignoring him. Him! A handful of soldiers helped him gather together the few children and quickly the small band headed out for the land of the Z-LOTZ. BRILL-BRA saw little choice but to throw his lot in with the Z-LOTZ. This carried its own risks because, even with the three young daughters of L-SIDNEY, he still fell short by two of the promised number of child slaves he was supposed to deliver before the next full moon. But BRILL-BRA had grown obese and soft. He had no desire to wander aimlessly and try to live off the land. Perhaps he could even find a way to overthrow NUT-PI and lead the numerous and obedient Z-LOTZ.

BRILL-BRA and his band of warriors and their captive children soon reached the lands they called, “The Dead Zone.” Almost nothing grew here. Ordinarily, the ROI avoided the place (as did all the tribes), but the shortest path to the cities of the Z-LOTZ lay through it. The days when BRILL-BRA enjoyed a long hike for the pleasure of it were long past. In this land of dirt and scattered rocks, falling sparks found nothing to feed on. While the Z-LOTZ believed “The Dead Zone” to be populated with the ghosts of long-dead ancestors, BRILL-BRA considered such superstition pure absurdity. He thought it most likely that such stories were concocted long ago to scare the children of the Z-LOTZ into submission. But, maybe the leaders believed all that bull crap. BRILL-BRA didn’t know and he didn’t care. He trudged on in a foul mood. He never even got a chance to torture L-SIDNEY. He began to curse loudly as he walked. They were barely two miles beyond the outskirts of their burning village when he ordered everyone to stop and rest.

He ordered one of his lackeys to bring one of the girls over to him. “Keep her hands tied behind her. I don’t trust her.” Soon it was done and the girl stood before him. BRILL-BRA considered that a little pleasuring from her would improve his mood and let him plot out his next moves. But what the hell was this? She was crying! “STOP CRYING!” he screamed, “or I will give you something to cry about! Why the hell are you crying?”

The girl shivered in fear, and her voice was choked, but she managed a weak, tremulous reply. “I don’t know where Daddy is. Our whole village has been burned up. Why are you not crying, oh great leader?”

Though these words were spoken in hardly more than a hoarse whisper, others had heard it. BRILL-BRA became flustered and embarrassed. “Because I am a man and men don’t cry. They build things and fix things. But you are beyond fixing!” He planted his foot in her belly and shoved her backwards. She fell back heavily and screamed in pain as she fell spraining her wrist which was trapped under her. Her head grazed a sharp rock and blood began to flow from her ear onto her disheveled ringlets. “Oh, CRAP!” screamed BRA-BRILL. NUT-PI always wanted the children delivered as tribute to be clean and uninjured so that he and he alone would be responsible for their various disfigurations and injuries.

BRILL-BRA yelled at one of his soldiers to “Stop the bleeding and clean this one up. Bring me another. And make sure she’s got a nice smile on her face and is not blubbering like a child!”

A thought flashed through the soldier’s mind: But she is a child. Naturally, he did not utter this aloud. He dutifully did as ordered. Soon, a still younger child was forced to kneel before BRILL-BRA.

—————————————-

Tu-Swift raced downhill to escape the attacking flames. The thick smoke choked him and the air itself seemed to lack its very essence. He could not hear his comrades above the crackling of the fire nor see any sign of them. Suddenly, his foot landed wrong and he heard and felt a snapping within himself even above the roar of the raging fire. He heard a scream and landed hard on his stomach. He tried to breathe but couldn’t. Still the flames pursued him and he managed to rise to his hands and knees. He couldn’t stand upright. Something was wrong with his right leg. He scrambled on hands and knees to the edge of a stream and then into it. On the far side, he saw a large cliff coming right down to the water’s edge. He scrambled toward it. The cliff rock had split and he slipped into the large crack. He thought this would be as protected a space as he could find in his current condition. Surrounded by rock, scraped and scratched, he lay sideways in the cleft. Tu-Swift looked up at a sliver of blue sky above him. Tu-Swift wondered idly why the sky was blue now instead of black with smoke. He wondered who had screamed. He lost consciousness and began a tortured dream.

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————————————————-

Thanks to the translations of Salah Hudah, the remaining members of the Veritas rescue party discovered that Day-Nah did indeed belong to the Nomads of the South. A trading caravan had been attacked by those who steal children and many warriors had been killed on both sides. Day-Nah had been banged on the head and when he awoke, he was bouncing around on the back of a horse. He never saw his older sister nor his mother again. Soon after he awoke, he was shoved into a small wooden jail with Tu-Swift. Day-Nah related their days together and that Tu-Swift had sabotaged the bows and arrows of the people who stand atop horses and also contrived to set the horses free. He had no knowledge of what had happened to any of their missing party.

They spent another day searching for their missing compatriots again signaling by clacking sticks together and through coded bird calls but there were no answering calls and no drumbeats. The fire had destroyed all hope of their normal tracking methods. Even the wolf cubs proved to be unhelpful. The fire had apparently destroyed the scents of the missing, or perhaps simply overlain it with the smell of so much death and destruction that it obscured the odor of mere humans.

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Shadow Walker dreaded returning to the Veritas without Tu-Swift and with two more of their number missing. It seemed most likely that their friends had all died in the fire. It was also possible that all three or some of them had been captured by the ROI though they had not seen any of the ROI warriors, if that’s what they were, headed in their direction. Rather, when last seen, they were running back toward the ROI Village. Once there, they might have joined up with a much greater force and would now be marching out to find them and probably to continue on to the center place of the Veritas where they might wreak more death and destruction.

They had important information about these people who sit astride horses, these stealers of children. This information must be shared with the tribe. They must help the Veritas prepare for another attack. From Day-Nah’s story, it seemed clear that stealing children might be a way of life for these people. Many Paths needed to consult with everyone about choosing what to do about child stealers living so near them. When Shadow Walker thought of Many Paths a great gray sadness weighed upon his heart. Could he tell her that Tu-Swift had disappeared? What might her response be? He wondered whether she would now hate him forever and indeed, whether he could forgive himself. But the area of destruction was so vast that they could search for weeks without finding the remains of Tu-Swift and the others. Meanwhile, the people who steal children might be mounting a giant attack on the Veritas. If that were the case, it would be important that all of the Veritas learn as much as possible about these people who steal children.

Shadow Walker wished that he could discuss matters with Many Paths, or with She Who Saves Many Lives. He toyed with one of the rings of empathy, turning it this way and that in his hand. Somehow, he found comfort in knowing that Many Paths had such a ring as well. The substance of the ring reminded him of something. That something tickled at the edges of his mind. “The door!” he suddenly spoke aloud. That mysterious substance had been a cousin to this but much colder and much harder. For some reason he could not explain, this insight gave him confidence. He proposed that he would stay here alone and continue to search for their missing companions while the others returned with the news. He proposed to keep the wolf pups with him to aid in his searches. Perhaps once the stench of the burned grasses and trees subsided, the pups would be able to catch a scent. He would only slow them down if pursued on their journey home but hobbling slowly might be an actual advantage in searching for the missing trio.

And so it was that at the next dawning, Fleet-of-Foot, Hudah Salah, Day-Nah, and Easy Tears ate what would perhaps be their last meal with Shadow Walker and began their trek back to the homeland of the Veritas. Their hearts were filled with important information but also with heavy news about their friends. Shadow Walker watched the ever-diminishing image of his companions disappearing over the blackened hilltop. He would not see them for a time that might grow to forever.

He once again took out one of the Rings of Empathy and rolled it in his palm. He recalled a talk that he had had with Many Paths. She had jokingly told him how She Who Saves Many Lives, despite her aged body, could sneak up on someone unawares. According to Many Paths, She Who Saves Many Lives had laughed and explained how she managed the trick and Shadow Walker determined that he too could learn such a trick.

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He decided that he would carefully examine the area around the creek for signs of the missing three. He would contrive to become even more skillful at the art of Shadow Walking. He would, as had been suggested by She Who Saves Many Lives, move only when the wind moved. He would make himself smell of the forest or the plains. He would advance from shadow to shadow in the unpredictable and random way of life itself. He would watch the comings and goings of the people in the village so that he would appear to be one among them. In this way, he thought to sneak unseen, unheard, and unknown back into the village of the people who steal children. If found, he would release Tu-Swift again. One way or another, in his next meeting with Many Paths, he would bring her certain, if unpleasant, news. Or, he would never meet her again in this life. He might instead die trying to find the missing brother of Many Paths.

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The First Ring of Empathy (Start of Book 1 of the Myths of the Veritas)

The Start of Book 2 of the Myths of the Veritas

It was in his nature

The Crows and Me

At Least he’s Our Monster

Guernica

All we Stand to Lose

Somewhere a Bird Cries

How Beautiful and Green

You Must Remember This

The Impossible

The Invisibility Cloak of Habit

The Power of the Unbrella

Fire Arrows

04 Wednesday Mar 2026

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, psychology, Veritas

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environment, escape, fantasy, fiction, fire, hate, leadership, legend, life, myth, peace, politics, short story, story, strategy, tactics, Veritas, war, writing

Eagle Eyes suddenly put her hand up thus silencing Tu-Swift in his recounting. She pointed to a spot on the horizon. The others stared but saw nothing. She made the sign for “fire” and then pointed to another spot and again made the sign for “fire.” The sun now began to rise behind them but shadows still obscured the valley between their small party and the people who steal children. A cool breeze freshened behind their backs. All of the party trained their eyes on the places where Eagle Eyes pointed but nothing appeared to them. They stared into the valley below: grassland, scrubby trees, and on one side a forest of conifers. On the other side, another forest bordered with birches and aspens.

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The wind, they knew, would carry their voices as well as their scent so they deliberated in quiet. If they stood their ground here atop the hill, they would have some advantage in a fight. If their enemy approached on horses, they would not be able to outrun them. They might be better off to stay and fight from the high ground. Tu-Swift shot his hand out and nodded vigorously, making the sign for “fire.” He too saw these flashes of flames. Soon, the others detected these fires that multiplied and flickered in the nearby woods. Shadow Walker, Fleet of Foot, and Lion Slayer each strung one of the bows that Tu-Swift had stolen and lay arrows beside them, ready to shoot when the time came.

A hail of flaming arrows suddenly streamed toward them. Shadow Walker laughed. What a terrible aim they had, he thought to himself for he could see that the arrows would fall well behind them. Lion Slayer saw this as well, but he yelled at the others to run and follow him. “Fire!” he screamed and began to run down the hill away from the forest of evergreens toward the birches. Shadow Walker frowned for a moment thinking Lion Slayer a coward not to stand and fight. A jumble of thought-images flickered through his mind: Lion Slayer, lion, a lion slain, a fire, The Legend of the Orange Man and then he understood and urged everyone to follow.

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Shadow Walker understood that their enemy had not aimed at them but at the grassy expanse behind them. Even now, fire took hold in the dry grass and burned quickly up the hill behind them. Lion Slayer realized immediately that running away from the evergreen forest was their only hope. The entire party now ran headlong down the side of the hill away from the forest. Shadow Walker glanced back and could see their pursuers now emerging from the edge of the forest. He saw that they were not atop horses. Perhaps they could out run both them and the fire, but if they loosed another volley of arrows they could start a new fire. He stopped for a moment, turned back and picked up the small friend of Tu-Swift who was falling behind.

It seemed to Shadow Walker that fire now roared all around them. Thick black smoke hid each from the others and they continued their descent, running blind. Shadow Walker’s foot landed on a loose rock and he fell heavily while Day-Nah flew off his back and tumbled away from him. The fire seemed to suck life out of the air around them. Shadow Walker crouched on all fours attempting to catch his breath. He stood but saw no sign of the others. Flames surrounded him. He was disoriented and could see nothing and he heard no voices above the roaring flames. Wolves! He heard the wolf pups and, having no other beacon, ran toward the sound of their voices.

Shadow Walker’s feet suddenly splashed into cold water. He had come to a broad shallow river. Here, smoke hung still heavy in the air, but there were no flames surrounding him. A splash beside him made him spin around ready to kill but it was the small friend of Tu-Swift. Shadow Walker heard coughing and saw Hudah Salah splashing toward him. The air began to clear around them.

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Wind is a fickle friend. Those who loose fire — or hatred — upon a land or a people, can never predict with certainly where those flames will lead. Fed by the fuel of fierce desire to destroy and flowing with the ever changing winds, foolish indeed are those who think these movements may be reliably directed and channeled.

This day, the winds had shifted and the fire now pursued the pursuers and the fire burned toward the people who steal children. Though slower on the downhill side, it chased the ROI into the forest, but did not stop at the edge of the forest. Encouraged by the richer fuel within, the blaze now devoured its way back into the fir and pine. Another small fire had begun when one of the ROI had pulled back his lit arrow, and before he could release it, the weakened nock broke and the flaming arrow had fell at the bowman’s feet instantly igniting the grass around him. The breaking of the bow stung his arms and in his surprise, he ran into the forest rather than attempting to put out the small fire around him. Of course, it quickly grew and like his larger cousin, relished the change in wind that allowed him to charge into the fuel-rich forest.

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As the air cleared around Shadow Walker and Hudah Salah, the rescue party began to see that in the distance, a great fire was destroying the forest — and all the creatures within. Easy Tears soon joined them along with the wolf pups. Fleet-of-Foot and Day-Nah also joined them.

Shadow Walker looked about. Though the fire did not now seem hell-bent on burning their search party, he knew that winds were unpredictable. If the wind shifted directly toward him, the fire would find nothing to burn. In front of him, in a direct line to the forest of firs, the entire grass hillside had already been burned to ash. On the other side of the burned grassland, the evergreen forest bloomed red and black. Huge flames leapt to the sky. The fire seemed intent on burning back toward the center place of the people who stole children. But fire is unpredictable. It might then turn and come up the other side of the valley after him and his friends. He frowned. He began to wonder: Where was Tu-Swift? Where was Eagle Eyes? Where was Lion Slayer?

Shadow Walker began to realize that his ankle was badly sprained. He gestured the others to come to the edge of the stream to dialogue about next steps. They sat for a few moments in silence, first catching their breath, then, thanking the Great Bear in the Sky for sparing them. Each had just barely escaped death, after all. No-one seemed badly burned or injured. But three of their party remained unaccounted for. Shadow Walker sat on the edge of the stream, shivering with the others, keeping his turned ankle in the icy water. He focused his energy on telling it not to swell. At last, he opened his mouth to speak, but the small thin voice of Day-Nah spoke first.

“Tu-Swift?” he questioned. “Tu-Swift run? Tu-Swift hide? Tu-Swift?”

Shadow Walker almost choked up with tears. He cupped his hands around his mouth, gestured for the others to follow his lead and they all turned toward the center place of the ROI and shouted “TU-SWIFT! TU-SWIFT!” Then, they cupped their hands behind their ears to amplify any returning call. Nothing. “Eagle Eyes! EAGLE EYES!” Nothing. They did the same for Lion Slayer. Nothing. Then, they all turned in a slightly different direction and did the same. They completed this circle twice with no response. The roaring, sparking fire was the only sure sound though on several occasions they all thought they heard distant screams of agony.

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At last the sun shone over the peak of the hill; the smoke clouds no longer hid its warming rays and they began to parley on whether the people who steal children had survived to chase them further and whether and how and where to search for those missing from their party. Hudah Salah regarded Shadow Walker’s ankle with a grimace. She tore some of her garments and took his ankle gently into her lap where the wrapped cloth tightly about it and tied it. “Too tight – you loose. Too loose – you tight. Understand?”

Shadow Walker looked into her face. He could see genuine caring and concern. Beyond that, he saw her fear – fear that her husband, Lion Slayer might have been lost to the flames. This tore at the heart of Shadow Walker. He had come here to rescue Tu-Swift, who was nowhere to be found and he may have lost two of their party and still not returned Tu-Swift to Many Paths as he had promised.

He stood at last, and hobbled a few steps. He would be of no use searching. They worked together to devise a search plan. They would communicate by alternating whistling like an eagle and drumming with sticks. If anyone saw a sign of the return of their pursuers, they would warn the others. If they met up with any of their missing party, they would likewise let the others know. They would meet back at the stream at sunset. Shadow Walker and Day-Nah would stay behind to relay messages and Shadow Walker would try to learn more from Day-Nah. Though Day-Nah’s ability to speak Veritas was limited, he hoped he could learn something, and he began to query the little fellow. “Tu-Swift? Where Tu-Swift?”

The child repeated back. “Tu-Swift! Tu-Swift — good!” This was followed by gibberish more unintelligible to him than the hissing of a snake. But Salah Hadam, who had just gathered up her pack, and headed off to search, snapped around. She spoke to the boy rapidly in some foreign tongue. They spoke excitedly back and forth for several minutes and the others also turned back. Fleet-of-Foot could stand it no longer.

“What is he saying? Is he of your tribe? Where is Tu-Swift?”

Salah Hadam, generally quite demure, put up her had as though to push away Fleet-of-Foot and looked him in the eye and said, “You. Stop! He talk!” She turned back to Day-Nah and they continued to converse. Shadow Walker had no idea what she said, but Fleet-of-Foot understood much of what they said. He stooped down beside Shadow Walker and spoke in a stage whisper.

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“This boy does not know what happened to Tu-Swift. They were together running down the hill quickly to escape fire. Black smoke and fire everywhere. Tu-Swift had helped Day-Nah get up after you dropped him and had yelled, “Run, Day-Nah. RUN!”

“Day-Nah had looked over to see Tu-Swift but he saw nothing. He had vanished into smoke.”

Fleet-of-Foot realized that this conversation would continue for awhile and he set down his pack beside Salah Hadam and began translating as best he could to all the rest. One by one, the rescuers set down their packs and began listening to Day-Nah’s story.

——————————-

Fish have no word for “Water”

Travels with Sadie

The Walkabout Diaries

Tools of Thought

Pattern Language Summary

Fifteen Properties

Who Won the War?

The Orange Man

Unstrung Bow & Unsteady Arrow of the Cruel

03 Tuesday Mar 2026

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, psychology, Uncategorized, Veritas

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creativity, escape, fantasy, fiction, innovation, leadership, legend, life, myth, peace, politics, short story, story, strategy, tactics, truth, war, weapons, writing

The Unstrung Bow & The Unsteady Arrow of the Cruel

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Tu-Swift discovered that waiting, just waiting, can often prove more difficult even than a hand-blistering day of shoveling horse manure. He returned to his training. “Inventory” he whispered to himself. After recalling everything about himself, his surroundings, Day-Nah, and the circumstances, he carefully went over the plans, if he might even call them that. He wished he had a weapon. His small sharp stone was no match for their odd looking bows, all of which they methodically hung up in a row on the outside of a building next to the barn, their strings dangling. Beneath each bow, a quiver of arrows stood upright on the pounded dirt. Tu-Swift’s brow furrowed as a strange thought came to edge of his mind. He nearly swatted it away as reflexively as he might swat away an annoying fly.

Like all the Veritas, he had been taught that theft, like every manifestation of greed, was wrong-headed. It would be feeding the “bad wolf” within himself. He would never steal from another of the Veritas. But these people who stood atop horses had stolen him. And, he suspected, that they had also stolen Day-Nah. So, maybe stealing some of their bows would be….It took a lot of work and effort to make a good bow; this he knew from personal experience. But to steal a person from their family, from their tribe? Surely that was far worse. Those bows, along with the arrows, had been loosed upon his tribe. On the other hand, trying to carry several dozen bows would be too awkward when trying to escape. He dug out his hard, small stone and turned it over in his hand. Tu-Swift chuckled inwardly. “You are not much of a weapon, little stone, but perhaps you can defeat a stronger one.” He thought he would try to manage stealing three of the bows and a quiver of arrows.

black and brown bow on grass field during daytime

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Tu-Swift looked out into the dark, silent, and empty courtyard of the Center Place of the child-stealers. He heard no-one stirring about. He could hear the noises, faint and distant, of the horses nickering and of people snoring, but he could not detect any footsteps. He signaled Day-Nah to stay close and to stay quiet. Despite his young age, Day-Nah was quite adept at being careful and quiet. Careful to slink along in the shadows, they slowly made their way toward the paddock, from stump, to shed, to bush, always seeking some way to stay hidden in the darkness. Now, however, to get to the hanging bows, he would have to venture into open ground. If one of the guards saw him, they would raise an alarm. Others might think he was simply a youth on his way to relieve himself.

He grabbed a handful of the bows and brought them into the vacant log building. He inserted his thin stone knife into the nock at the bottom of an unstrung bow and twisted. The nock snapped just as he had hoped. He worked as quickly as he could. After disabling the bows, he gestured for Day-Nah to stay inside while Tu-Swift ventured back outside to gather another armful of bows and quivers. He quickly snuck back inside and repeated the process. This time however, instead of completely breaking off the nock, he cracked it enough, as best he could judge, that attempting to string the bow would finish the job.

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By being so organized, he reflected, these child-stealers had made themselves more vulnerable. That seemed odd, but Tu-Swift did not follow that path and instead looked about in the dim light for a place to hide arrows. Working quickly, he placed most of the arrows underfoot and bent them up enough to crack them without severing them.

Although concentrating on breaking as many arrows as he could, he realized that this place was quite unlike anything among the Veritas. Nothing in this place seemed round and living. It all looked hard and sharp even in the semi-darkness. He whispered softly and gestured to Day-Nah making him to understand that he was to hide these bows and arrows. He went outside and gathered the rest of the bows and arrows. As he did so, he could perceive a slight glow on the horizon. The moon was about to rise!

He went back inside and slung the arrows around the odd room, stomped on all the quivers, save one which he saved for himself. Then, he made Day-Nah understand that he needed now to be very quiet. He took his hand and they peered out into the courtyard. Still no-one appeared. Why were there no sentries? Did these people who stole children not suppose someone would come to rescue him? Another thought for another day. The moonlight now showed itself in patches between deep shadows as they padded their way to the meadow where the horses and mares were near each other though separated.

Tu-Swift picked up two sticks from the woodpile and banged them together, trying to sound as much like a woodpecker as he could. “We are with the horses in the meadow. I am about to set them free on your signal.”

Immediately, he heard another “woodpecker” answer: “We are here. Set them free. Then run to our sound.”

He and Day-Nah went over to the small new pens that Tu-Swift had constructed to separate the foals and mares. He pulled out a few rails of wood and the foals were now free to go. The foals however did not seem to notice, instead sticking close to their mothers. Tu-Swift again cautioned Day-Nah to remain quiet. He saw shadowy figures emerge from the nearby grove of firs and they began dismantling the fence. A flash of moonlight happened to fall on the face of Shadow Walker and Tu-Swift could barely contain a cry of joy from escaping his throat.

The horses had been nickering nervously from the smell of so many unknown humans, but now a few began rearing up and pawing the air. In so doing, they discovered that their feet were no longer strongly tethered. The mares whinnied and reunited through the broken fences with their foals. Tu-Swift then heard a wonderful sound – the sound of Shadow Walker saying it was time to join up. He grabbed Day-Nah’s hand and they ran toward the fir grove. The horses seemed to be scattering everywhere.

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As they ran into fir grove, he could hear yelling and many footsteps back in the main courtyard. Although he had learned almost nothing of the language of those who steal children, he could tell from the frustration in the voices that the warriors of those who steal children began to discover that their bows were not in their proper place. Better yet, they began screaming accusations at each other rather than searching for their lost weapons.

The Veritas party proceeded quickly through the fir grove through the trail that they had marked. Shadow Walker bore Day-Nah on his back. After running quickly for a time, Shadow Walker put up his hand and they all stopped to listen. They could hear a great many voices – the tribe who steals children sounded much like a broken hive of bees. Shadow Walker stood Day-Nah on the ground for a moment. Shadow Walker bent and put his hands on his knees to help catch his breath. He lifted his head and caught the eye of Day-Nah who said in heavily accented Veritas, “I run” and he used his hand to gesture a run, scissoring his fingers back and forth as Tu-Swift had done. Shadow Walker looked at the boys wide dark eyes and nodded.

Now, the rescuers and the two boys jogged at an easier pace for nearly two hours, circling part-way around the stronghold of the tribe who steals children and back toward the home of the Veritas. Just before dawn, quite exhausted, after clambering up a fairly steep hill, they sat down to rest and stretch for a moment. Eagle Eyes scanned the horizon for pursuers but listened intently as Tu-Swift quickly recounted what he knew of this tribe who perches atop horses and steals children from their families. The boy spoke so quickly that Eagle Eyes had trouble understanding, but Hudah Salah appeared to follow the tale without difficulty.

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——————————————————————————

The First Ring of Empathy

Travels with Sadie

The Walkabout Diaries

You Must Remember This

Absolute is not Just a Vodka

At Least he’s Our Monster

All the Roads not Taken

Who Won the War?