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Shadow Walker’s Shadow Walking

16 Monday Mar 2026

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, psychology, Veritas

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fantasy, fiction, hatred, leadership, legend, myths, peace, problem_solving, story, strategy, Veritas, war, writing

To ameliorate his impatience with the slow, ankle-sprained progress he made in his search for Tu-Swift, Shadow Walker entertained himself by thinking through the ways to be a more stealthy warrior.

{Translator’s Note}: I used the expression “entertained himself” because from what we can tell, the Veritas very much enjoyed learning from others and from oneself. Such improved skill might well save his life. In our culture, we would therefore perhaps call it “practical” and it would be irrelevant whether it would be entertaining. But they thought that most activities were at once practical, entertaining, and educational.

Shadow Walker’s internal dialogue continued: I have my eyes of course, he thought, and it is much harder to see in the dark. But besides that, I see differently in the dark. More like a cat. It’s hard to see color. And, I’m more sensitive to movement. Not everyone sees as well as I do. And, some, like Eagle Eyes see far better. At this, Shadow Walker’s logical flow diverted. He began to wonder yet again about all the missing members of the search party. He and Eagle Eyes had worked through the trials for the rings of empathy together. And, though he only knew him a short time, he had come to like and respect Lion Slayer. Still, he felt his main priority was to find Tu-Swift. Though already quite fast a runner, he was still relatively small and inexperienced. He thought: Eagle Eyes was an experienced fighter and possessed excellent vision. She would see an enemy coming before that enemy saw her. Probably. But it all depends…and he returned to his considerations of how to make himself stealthier with respect to sight.

He explored this theme for a time, going back in his own memories about how various factors affected his vision. He recalled from the empathy trials that a person’s state influenced what they saw. If they were hungry, they would tend to see things more as food. If they were thirsty, they would see things more in terms of moisture. And so on. It occurred to Shadow Walker that the beautiful symmetry in the clothing that adorned so many of the Veritas actually made them much more visible as targets. A more random pattern like fallen leaves…

close up photo of brown praying mantis on a branch

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Shadow Walker smiled at the recollection. When he was about six winters old, he had been playing in some autumn leaves when one of them suddenly jerked upward in a buzzing flight! The Praying Mantis is a fairly large insect and it had seemingly appeared from nowhere and startled him greatly. So, color and pattern as appropriate to the background would help. Masks. Yes. The face was the most distinctive and obviously human part of a person. Now, it occurred to Shadow Walker that perhaps the ceremonial masks that they sometimes wore had once been part of a camouflage outfit. Perhaps once such masks had been necessary for hunting or war or both.

All the Veritas were trained while stalking to wait and move only when the wind moved. But perhaps there was more to that skill as well. He had noticed that the wolf pups had far better hearing than he did. And sense of smell of course. But now, Shadow Walker thought about the ears of horses. They moved like those of the wolves and were also large. A horse could probably hear the slight snap of a tiny twig much better than a human could. If the People Who Stole Children still had their horses, he would have to be very careful indeed not to be heard too soon.

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With another flash of insight, Shadow Walker realized that if these People Who Steal Children were going to insist on being enemies, it would be well for the Veritas to learn much more about the ways of horses. It seemed to him, in their brief exchanges before the fire had separated them, that Tu-Swift had already begun down that path. Perhaps it would be necessary to make friends with horses as the Veritas had done with wolves, eagles, and many plants. To encourage plants to grow, it was necessary to learn what each plant wanted. Some wanted much water; others less. For some, planting a small fish nearby seemed to help them. Others had to be groomed of pests. Maybe it was the same with horses.

Shadow Walker reminded himself to stay alert to the task at hand. At last he reached the edge of the burned forest, but the “cover” there was hardly better than in the burned out field. After only hobbling a few hundred yards in the remains of the burned forest, he noticed odd indentations in the earth, spaced an arm’s length apart. He had never seen a track like this. He bent down and picked up a small piece of charcoal. He twirled it in his fingers and it disintegrated. Then, he looked at his hands and noticed they were smudged with ash. He decided to pattern his body and clothes like a fawn, dappling both with black splotches of varying size.

Ahead of him, the wolf pups were excitedly sniffing at a large black blob. As he limped closer, he saw that it was the charred body of a deer. He peered at it and realized that something had turned it and examined it, perhaps for edible meat. There was none. The destructiveness of fire was complete. Shadow Walker thought of the legend of the Orange Man who, through his own greed, had destroyed a complete village and himself as well. Perhaps the People Who Steal Horses had done the same. Perhaps they were all dead. But perhaps not. He smiled, realizing that it was Many Paths more than anyone else who had taught him to consider a wide variety of alternatives before taking action.

Suddenly, a wave of love and longing for Many Paths came over him. The image of her smiling face floated before him. He sighed. Why would people come and steal Tu-Swift? And, Dah-Nah too for that matter. He ground his teeth as he thought: They are a cruel people!

He began to fantasize some particularly nasty tortures for them. Then, he realized that he himself did not want to become as cruel as they are. He did not want to feed the “bad wolf” within himself. It would be easy right now to feed the “bad wolf” within. Those people astride horses had done so much damage to the Veritas, to the fields, the trees. The “good wolf” seemed to have gone for a moment. Then, he noticed that the two real wolves right beside him both stood rigid, their ears turned, their nostrils flared. They stared behind him.

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He spun around in time to see the flash of a sword. His ankle gave way as he ducked and spun. He fell hard against the blackened deer carcass. As the warrior stepped forward, Shadow Walker shot his good leg out and swept the warrior’s forward leg out from under him, causing the warrior to fall and yell out, perhaps warning others. Shadow Walker’s powerful arms pinned the warrior’s arm behind him and he twisted it hard. The man struggled mightily, twisting, turning and falling onto the sharp triangle of a burned tree stump. The stump shot clean through the man from belly to back. He began to scream and tried to free himself. Shadow Walker twisted the sword from the man’s hand and lay his own weight atop the man thus further impaling him. For a moment, he found himself enjoying the sound of the man’s ripping flesh. The screams soon became a weak bubbly burble.

Shadow Walker scanned the forest remains, alert for more warriors who might be drawn by the screams. He saw nothing. He heard nothing. The hungry wolf pups were much more interested in lapping up the spilled blood than anything else. They seemed quite unconcerned about further attack. Perhaps this had been a lone survivor and perhaps not. Shadow Walker remained crouched down for several minutes. At last he became convinced that he was not in immediate danger. He stood up and began to examine the sword. It consisted of something not earthly, yet familiar. This, he suddenly realized, was made of the same stuff as the door on circles that they had encountered on the way here. What was this strange metal? And, how could they have made a sword this smooth and even?

black and white building construction industry

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Perhaps there was more to be learned from this enemy than the training of horses. They seem to have better weapons as well. The wolf pups began tearing at the flesh of Shadow Walker’s would be killer. It occurred to him that it might be a mistake to let them taste the flesh of humans. It was too late to stop now. He wanted to examine the warrior more closely, but did not want to have the wolves think he was attempting to “horn in” on their “kill” but soon they had their fill and he examined the corpse. In the dead man’s tunic he found a small leather pouch which contained three circles of gold.

This is odd, thought Shadow Walker. Why make gold into a circle? The disks also had strange markings on them and the image of a face. These are a very odd people indeed, thought Shadow Walker. He secured the sword and the pouch with the gold disks around his waist with leather thongs. Then, he began making his way toward the village. Again, the forest seemed completely deserted. Yet, he remained wary. He followed the odd track. It seemed to him that it could well be the track of someone using a make-shift crutch or cane. It might be Tu-Swift. But it might be another warrior from the People Who Steal Children.

Soon, Shadow Walker could see clear spaces beyond the edge of the charred forest. In those clear spaces, the burned remnants of the village of the People Who Steal Children stood. Fire, he reminded himself, was not something to be toyed with. He had to admit that he had felt a strange wave of pleasure wash over him when the heard the ripping sound of flesh. That fire of hatred and cruelty must be contained or it would destroy him as thoroughly as the forest fire had destroyed the People Who Steal Children. Shadow Walker moved cautiously; moved with the wind; moved from shadow to shadow, as his eyes searched the open spaces for signs of life.

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Finger-Pointing among the ROI

05 Thursday Mar 2026

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

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blame, chaos, crisis, Dictatorship, fantasy, fiction, fire, governance, greed, leadership, legend, management, myth, religion, ROI, story, war, writing

Among the ROI, it was common for each person to become a specialist in one or two of the tasks of the tribe. One such person, named Jaccim Nohan, specialized in capturing children. Indeed, he had been one of those who had attacked the Veritas at high feast and had carried off Tu-Swift on the back of his horse. Between slave-gathering raids, he worked with the horses and when all the horses of the ROI had begun to run off, it fell to him and two others to attempt to recapture them. Most of the horses had run far south, but a few, perhaps attempting to reconnect with their foals, had instead galloped about the village adding to the general confusion.

Nohan ran after them to little avail. The noise made by the ROI themselves added to the terror of the horses. As one of them ran by, Nohan noticed that a fair length of frayed rope still trailed behind one of the chestnut mares. He thought to grab the rope and quickly wind it around a strong post. In this way he hoped to stop at least one horse from dangerously galloping to and fro among the villagers and soldiers.

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At first, his plan seemed to be working well. He grabbed the rope and the horse turned toward Nohan. The rope slackened and Nohan spotted a sturdy nearby post. He quickly grabbed the rope and began tying it in loops around the post. The horse reared up, spooked, and turned away in a panic. The horse broke the post in two and the loops of rope entangled around Nohan’s forearm. Suddenly, he found himself being dragged through the village. He tried several times to disentangle himself from the rope, all the while cursing himself and the horse.

Nohan’s clothing and then his skin disintegrated from the friction. The horse dragged him near the paddock and into a large pile of fresh manure that Tu-Swift and Day-Nah had constructed only a few days ago. The horse felt the tug and turned back to regard the situation. Nohan managed to free himself of his bonds before losing consciousness. The last thing he recalled was the chestnut mare pawing the air over him.

The ROI soldiers imagined that they were under attack from a large army and immediately sped to the place where their bows and arrows were kept. As each arrived, they looked in disbelief to see that all of their bows were gone! A few went inside the armory to retrieve swords and clubs. Inside they found a few bows in working order as well as some arrows. As hastily as a group of disorganized men who are used to being told what to do in a very organized fashion can, they gathered their weapons and headed to the barn to get atop horses to fight the enemy they thought numerous. But there were no horses to be had!

The head magistrate for the ROI, BRILL-BRA had been sound asleep after a long wine-filled orgy with several young slaves when the chaos began. He shook his head. That, he decided, was a mistake for a massive headache ensued. He threw on a robe and stumbled out into the square and saw the chaos. He wobbled unsteadily over to a large hunk of resonant metal which was suspended near a central dais and struck it hard. A few people nearby heard it and stopped their running uselessly about and came to the circle of benches near the large platform which BRILL-BRA had surmounted. He continued to ring the gong whose sound penetrated through the general din. More and more people began to stop their craziness and remember their discipline. Eventually, almost all the uninjured came to hear their leader’s orders.

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BRILL-BRA had no more idea what was happening than anyone else. But he recognized an opportunity to consolidate his power and so he took it. He “called on” various members of the ROI to explain what had happened, shushing anyone who was not “called on.” As the various members of the tribe spoke up, he began to piece together a picture of what had happened. The ROI had made many mistakes. The biggest blunder? Raiding the Veritas in the first place which had yielded only one potential slave. That slave had apparently managed to escape, taking another boy with him. Now, the ROI were short in their agreed upon number of slaves that they owed the Z-Lotz. Well, that was easily solved. He’ll find a scapegoat or two from among the ROI and take their children to make up the shortfall. More of that later, he thought. Apparently, there were no horses available right now, so he realized if they had any hope of recaptured the slave boys, he would have to send out a raiding party soon.

He asked for volunteers and was heartened to see that all the young men of sound body volunteered. Inwardly, he snickered yet again at how easily manipulated they all were. Outwardly though, he arranged his face as appropriate to moods of fear, and hatred, and occasionally belittling the enemy encouraging his own people to think that the Veritas had used witchcraft and magic to multiply the effectiveness of their vastly superior numbers. It would be in no-one’s interest, he rationalized, to let them know what he suspected — that a mere handful had thrown their village into such disarray. That handful would be tracked down and killed before long. Better yet, perhaps a few could be captured alive and tortured to death for the entertainment of his followers.

Painting by Pierce Morgan.

BRILL-BRA chose a party of a dozen men whom he knew to be fast runners and good archers. The rest would be posted as guards around the village. This move solidified the atmosphere of fear and hate that he wished to prolong as long as possible. His people, he knew, proved much easier to manipulate and lie to when he kept them in a near constant state of anxiety and anger. The attack group soon set off toward the Veritas central place. BRILL-BRA thought it likely the Veritas would choose the most direct path back toward their home. For his part, BRILL-BRA spent a few more minutes rousing his audience to fear and righteous indignation about an enemy who would use dark magic to overcome the obviously superior ROI people. He promised revenge and then, told the people to go and repair the village while he, BRILL-BRA would undertake the most difficult task of all — which was to determine who among them had been derelict in duty. Of course, this also had the desired effect of putting everyone on edge. For they knew that anyone could be so accused and the penalty would be severe, if not fatal.

Except for the dozen in the raiding party, the ROI worked to restore their village and to try to capture the escaped horses. For his part, BRILL-BRA spent a pleasant day interviewing candidates for his wrath. He had learned from NUT-PI, now the leader of the Z-LOTZ, the trick of making the suspects kneel on sharp gravel while he grilled them. Torturing his own people always put a smile on his face. With them kneeling before him, he always felt superior. And after all, he thought, I am superior. After all, they are the ones in pain and I am the one in charge. He smirked as they struggled to try to keep their composure and swear their loyalty to him while he pretended to consider what they said. After a long day of this, he finally feasted heartily and ordered some more slave children to be brought for his pleasure. This too, he enjoyed, not so much for the sex, per se, though that indeed was pleasurable, but more for the joy of knowing he had complete control over someone else’s body.

He woke in the morning to the glorious glow of sunrise, a sunrise unusually vivid and red. He ordered one of his personal guards to bring him the three daughters of L-SIDNEY. They were a bit on the young side, but he fancied them. He decided to blame L-SIDNEY for the fiasco, mainly because he wanted his three daughters. The choice was also easy to rationalize because L-SIDNEY had been one of the three men who had been responsible for training up the two male captives to help with the horses. Since the horses had escaped along with the two kids, it seemed only fitting to make him pay by giving him his daughters. It wasn’t strictly necessary to come up with an explanation like that, but it helped. It gave the ROI people the semblance of a rationale so that they would be more comfortable with what would otherwise merely seem like random cruelty.

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BRILL-BRA also planned to take the daughters with him (once he tired of them) to help fill his quota for the Z-LOTZ. L-SIDNEY himself — BRILL-BRA toyed with various torture deaths. Slow burning was nice. Stoning was okay too, provided that people were only allowed small stones. NUT-PI had some wonderful ideas along these lines, many of which BRILL-BRA had never seen in person but was eager to try. As he nibbled on his food and fantasized about torturing L-SIDNEY, he vaguely noticed something odd about this morning’s sunrise. The crimson sky seemed to grow in intensity rather than diminish over time. And, then, there was that odd noise in the distance. It drew nearer. Well, he thought, someone else will take care of that. He laughed as he contemplated trying out the torture of growing bamboo shoots through the body.

His pleasant reverie was shattered by a shouting guard outside his cabin. He vowed to torture the guard as well. He stepped outside to find out who his second victim would be and then saw that the entire sky was red. At the southern edge of the village he could see flames devouring the fir trees. “CRAP!” he shouted. The guard screamed “FIRE!” and did not wait to take his leave. BRILL-BRA screamed more profanity and ran back inside to grab his small bag of precious stones and metals. The roar of the fire grew deafening and he could actually feel the heat. The ROI were running everywhere. They were too panicked to stop. BRILL-BRA ran too.

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Meanwhile, Jaccim Nohan awoke in great pain and confusion. He ached everywhere and his ample though shredded flesh ached. He crawled out of the large pile of horse manure and saw that the entire sky glowed red. Though still at some distance, he could feel the heat of the fire. He did not feel strong enough to make his broken body run. Into his mind flashed an image of the fruit cellar that lay beneath one corner of the large lodge used for dining and for storing weapons. It lay only forty yards upwind of the barn. He crawled as fast as he could just as the flames began to emerge from the fir forest. Adrenaline managed to help his broken body traverse the distance and crawl into the landing. From there, he sat on the stairway and used his hands to lower himself, step by step, into the fruit cellar. He did not know whether he could survive but he hoped so. In one corner was a cistern of water used to soften dried fruit and he wet some cloths and pulled them around himself and awaited his fate as the flames roared and cracked outside. Nohan’s pain so overwhelmed him that he felt unsure whether he wished the flames would spare him or consume him.

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The Cancelled Flight to Crazytown

Somewhere a Bird Cries

The Siren Song

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”

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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.

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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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Author Page on Amazon.

The First Ring of Empathy

Travels with Sadie

The Walkabout Diaries

You Must Remember This

Absolute is not Just a Vodka

All the Roads not Taken

We Won the War! We Won the War!

Who Won the War?

Fish have no Word for “Water”

The Path not Taken

01 Sunday Mar 2026

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

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alternatives, consequences, fiction, leadership, life, love, myth, politics, romance, story, strategy, tactics, teamwork, truth, Veritas, war, writing

Many Paths awoke smiling. A soft pink and golden glow suffused her cabin. She relished the warmth beneath her blankets. She lay for a moment enjoying the distant happy sounds of her tribe and the many chirping birds. She thought of the legend that long ago the people had learned to speak by mimicking the sounds of the fields and forests. Each time she listened to the birds, her conviction grew that the various kinds of birds spoke to each other, not only to those of their own kind. Indeed, they did this both at dawn’s first light and in the evening. Of course, they hid and stayed silent during storms, but in fine weather such as this, they also held dialogue just as the Veritas themselves had done the night before.

Soon, she would check on plans for making major paths to the Center Place of the Veritas less accessible to horses or those upon them. But for a moment, she relished the image of Shadow Walker, tall and handsome. She smiled again as she recalled the many trials that she and Shadow Walker had faced. Her love for him first blossomed as he explained his observations about snakes. She chuckled. Now, that takes some empathy! She wondered whether she could ever love snakes as much as she loved the wolves. She again toyed with the First Ring of Empathy. Every time she did so, she felt an even stronger connection to Shadow Walker. Perhaps, she thought, these rings held magic as yet undiscovered.

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A knock interrupted her reverie. “Good morning?” someone queried.

She recognized the surprisingly soft voice of Trunk of Tree. Many Paths wrapped a blanket about herself and padded to the door. There stood Trunk of Tree, his thick, well-muscled thighs were bare from the edge of his smock to his moccasins. There was a delightful twinkle in his eye. “Trunk of Tree. I hope you are well this day.”

“I am indeed, Many Paths. I hope you are also well. I am sorry if I awoke you. I wanted to let you know that we have modified the cool path to make it impassible for those who would stand atop horses.”

“What? When? Did you work all night?”

“No, Many Paths, but we arose at first light. For we do not know when another such attack may come. Or, it might happen that our search party will return with those who stand atop horses in pursuit. In any case….” Trunk of Tree looked at Many Paths and, not for the first time, noticed how deeply and wisely her dark eyes sparkled.

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After a pause, Many Paths smiled and prompted, “In any case…?”

“Oh, sorry. In any case.” Trunk of Tree blushed as he realized how much he loved to hear the voice of Many Paths — so much so that it was hard to listen to the words and find their meanings. He found himself wondering whether she and Shadow Walker really had betrothed as everyone supposed. He thought, what if Shadow Walker does not return? He banished that thought as soon as it arose. Shadow Walker was Trunk of Tree’s best friend and had gladly ventured out to find Tu-Swift despite the danger. Now, Trunk of Tree found himself lusting after Many Paths. He must not feed the bad wolf. “In any case…” he began again, “as we were making the cool path between the cliffs impassible, Stone Chipper suggested another adjustment that would be hospitable to those on foot but make travel difficult for those who sit atop horses.”

“Yes? Go on.” She looked kindly at Trunk of Tree, but, she hoped, not too kindly.

“We wish to modify the path along the far side of the North River so that it would encourage any on horses to ford at the lower path rather than the upper path. This should look as though it’s a better road, but then, it will end at the bog near the field of flowers. The Veritas know how to leap from one grassy mound to the next, but we imagine such will prove impossible for anyone who stands atop a horse. None of us has seen a horse run there. Nor deer, nor elk. They only go very slowly in such a circumstance. We would love you. I mean, we would love you to think upon whether this is a good idea.” Trunk of Tree stared at Many Paths as the rising sun now strayed a golden ray upon the dark hair of Many Paths lighting it up like a special kind of sparkling rainbow.

Many Paths smiled at Trunk of Tree. “It sounds good. We must think about this together. How will it affect others of the Veritas and how will it affect other creatures, large and small? In any case, I need to attend now to my own needs for a short time. Then, I will ask She Who Saves Many Lives about your plan.”

Trunk of Tree softened his deep voice and said, “You are the Leader now, Many Paths.”

“I am indeed, Trunk of Tree. But She Who Saves Many Lives has seen far more summers, and far more winters than I. What kind of a foolish leader would not to seek the counsel of those whose experience is greater? Such a person as that would not be a leader at all. The wise leader would seek wisdom from the great tree of life, our ancestors, our legends, our leaders, and even the children, but in this matter, I will definitely seek the wisdom of She Who Saves Many Lives.” She smiled that smile that Trunk of Tree considered as great a miracle as a rainbow.

“You are wise, as always, Many Paths.”

Many Paths answered, “I will always strive to be wise, but I know I cannot foresee all consequences.” She paused, then added, “I will travel presently to this place and meet you there so we may consider your plan. And, I would also like to see your work on the cool path between the cliffs as well if you would be so kind as to accompany me. Shall we meet at the North River pass about when Sun is here?”

Many Paths raised her arm and pointed up at a slight angle.

In a short time, after consulting with She Who Saves Many Lives, Many Paths began walking to the North River. As she walked, she begin thinking about Trunk of Tree. His strength and beautiful physique, it seemed to Many Paths, somehow encouraged people to overlook his intelligence and creativity. As she neared the bog, she recalled how Trunk of Tree had once told her of being attacked near here by a red-winged blackbird! He had been wearing a red mask which apparently fooled the red-winged male into thinking that Trunk of Tree was a rival! Many Paths had heard stories of humans as well who had fought each other over mates. She wondered whether Shadow Walker show such a jealous rage.

Many Paths noticed a nice and thriving crop of yellow dock along the path so she harvested some–leaving enough so that it could reseed itself. It would require a first boiling to remove something not good from the good and then add a bit to her stew for tonight but save most of it for drying. It formed part of the wound poultice that She Who Saves Many Lives had shown her many moons ago.

As she had thought back to her childhood conversations with the elder shaman, Many Paths had come to realize that what had seemed friendly chit-chat at the time was already the beginning of an assessment that led She Who Saves Many Lives to encourage her original twelve acolytes from among the youngsters of the tribe. And that meant, she supposed, when the current crisis was over, she too should begin the long process of choosing her successor. Or, perhaps a crisis was just such a time as to observe how various young ones of the tribe reacted. She thought of Horse Viewer, as he was now known, and, then, all at once, the image of Tu-Swift came to her and pulled at her heart, causing a single tear to creep down her cheek.

“Thanks for coming, Many Paths” the gentle voice of Trunk of Tree began.

“Greetings, Trunk of Tree. Show me first about the path you plan to make into the bog.”

“Certainly, Many Paths. Are you all right? Are you crying?” asked Trunk of Tree with genuine concern.

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“I am all right. I am worried about Tu-Swift. But worrying is a waste of time. Let us make arrangements to make sure no more children are stolen. Hopefully, Tu-Swift will some day return to tell us of his adventures. I wish Eagle Eyes or even Easy Tears were here to help you make such alterations look natural.”

“I am sorry about Tu-Swift, Many Paths. I am sure he will be … I hope he will return shortly and unharmed. Take my hand, and I will remind you of the path through the bog.”

“Thank you, Trunk of Tree, but I think I can see such paths and trying to hold hands…holding hands will only complicate my path. You understand?”

Trunk of Tree swallowed. Now was as good a time as any. He tried to sound casual. “Many Paths, I need to ask you frankly. Are you and Shadow Walker betrothed?”

“Ah, that is an interesting question. We love each other. Of that we have no doubt. But with all that is going on… you see, we had decided to have a long and difficult conversation after the Feast of Bell-Tane. And, then…after the attack… We have not had a chance.”

“If you really love each other, then what is there to discuss?” asked Trunk of Tree.

“Having Tu-Swift stolen from me makes being leader much more difficult for me. Imagine if I had a child. Or two. Or three. That is serious business. I would really need the whole tribe to help. And, now is not the time to ask that. Anyway, let us discuss all that later. Show me about the path to the bog,” Trunk of Tree.

“Indeed, I shall.” Trunk of Tree bit his lip. “I only ask because. Because I too fancy you.”

“Ah. Well, yes, I realize that. I find you attractive as well, but we must put all that aside until after these strange people who steal other people’s children have been dealt with. Otherwise, how could I be happy to have your baby? Or anyone’s?”

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“Many Paths, as usual, you are wise, but I must tell you. I wish… We could pleasure each other without having babies.”

“Trunk of Tree, you are pleasing to my sight, but don’t you see how the eagles mate for life? I am thinking first of Shadow Walker.”

“True, but many animals do not mate for life as you well know. They seem to mate at every opportunity! And, after all your name is ‘Many Paths’ not ‘One Path.”

Many Paths laughed. “Nice try, Trunk of Tree, but I seek to think about many paths in order to choose one to walk. I do not seek to walk many paths all at once without thinking about any of them!”

Trunk of Tree chuckled. He slowly rotated his head from side to side and then up and down. Two words sprang into his mind: “Firm” and “Gentle.”

“So,” said Many Paths, “Trunk of Tree, my friend, let us please get to our task at hand which is for the future of the tribe, not just for our personal and momentary pleasure. If we avoid, destroy, or make peace with those who steal children, everyone will have more pleasure for many years, not just this day and not just us. I ask you again to show me your plan.”

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The Creation Myth of the Veritas

The Myth of the Orange Man (whose Lying and Greed destroyed a people)

The First Ring of Empathy (which begins the current tale)

Feast and Fire (which begins Book Two of the Myths of the Veritas)

Fish Have No Word for “Water”

The Forest

You Must Remember This

All the Paths Not Taken

Somewhere a Bird Cries

Dialogue and Discovery

20 Friday Feb 2026

Posted by petersironwood in story, Veritas

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Bohm Dialogue, Defense, Design, dialogue, empathy, fiction, horse, horses, innovation, leadership, life, myth, myths, peace, politics, story, strategy, tactics, teamwork, truth, war, writing

Many Paths had let the word spread that she wanted to dialog after supper. {Translator’s Note}: In good weather, the people often dialogued around the campfire. In this way, each told of their experiences and listened to the experiences of others during the day and what they had learned. They asked questions, shared insights, and allowed many moments of careful reflection. On this day, however, it appeared that by “calling for” a Dialogue, she was encouraging all to come and to be especially thoughtful. Apparently, though the word was the same (so far as we can tell) there was some linguistic or behavioral marking that emphasized the importance of this particular Dialogue.

Though the day had been warm, the sun left the sky early at this time of year, and the people wrapped themselves in blankets and gathered around the fire. Apart from the search party, only Trunk of Tree and a dozen other braves were absent, serving as guards. Trunk of Tree was still talking with them and trying to understand how this surprise attack had come. As expected, Many Paths spoke first.

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“So far as we can tell, no-one was seriously hurt and nothing was stolen of value excepting only my brother, Tu-Swift. A search party has been sent but we have not heard from them.”

A woman of the muskrat clan spoke, “Can people stand atop horses?”

A woman of the deer clan said, “Apparently so. Perhaps this is not so surprising. We have learned to work with wolves and eagles. Why not horses?”

Many Paths spoke up. “Our guests from the Nomads of the South confirm that at least one tribe to their knowledge does use horses. They call themselves the ROI.”

A child of the bobcat clan said, “I saw a man on a horse once.”

silhouette of person riding horse on body of water under yellow sunset

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Many Paths could see that the child had struggled to say this out loud in this big meeting and she did not want to scare him off. “Interesting. Please. Say more.”

“We were camping near the North River and looking for stones four days ago. Stones to make sharp. And it grew dark. So we slept. And I had a dream and awoke. And I looked across the river and I thought there was a buffalo with a tree and I saw it was really a man. A man on a horse. And I was scared I might be crazy. My parents and brother slept. And I didn’t want to wake them.”

“Do you think this man saw you?” asked Many Paths.

“Oh, yes. I think so. He and his horse looked right at me. Then, the horse took him away. I’m sorry.” The child looked bewildered.

“You did nothing wrong. There’s no need to be sorry.”

“I should have told someone. But I was afraid it would sound odd.”

Many Paths spoke gently. “Can you recall anything else about this horse and man as one?”

The child thought for a moment and added, “They ran fast. Not so fast as eagle falls, but much faster than anyone of our tribe runs.”

“And…? Anything else?”

“Well,” the child said, “when the horse ran away, it sounded like a drum. The-duh-RUM, the-duh-RUM.”

“Thank you, Horse Viewer.” Many Paths looked upon the people encouraging others to speak with her eyes and her smile and her voice.

“Oh, Many Paths, there is one more thing,” said Horse Viewer. “Right before they ran as one, the man made a noise like the running horse.” The boy closed his eyes in concentration. ‘Giddy-UP, Giddy-UP!’ he had shouted and off they ran.”

“Thank you, Horse Viewer,” Many Paths said warmly.

Next, She Who Saves Many Lives spoke, “Many years ago, I heard stories of people on horses, but I had never seen it first hand. Thank you.”

Many Paths spoke again, “The Nomads of the South said that these horses were tamed with cruelty, whips, and tethering. That seems a strange way to me, but perhaps it works. I had to use love to train the wolves. At least, I should say, I thought to train them that way. I began by studying them and as I learned more about them, I loved them more and as I loved them and they became used to me, I could arrange things so that they understood me and I understood them. They could see that I was the tallest of the wolves though not the one with the sharpest teeth. This they did not test though.”

The father of Horse Viewer, Stone Chipper spoke next. “I travel quite often as far as the North River. Only recently did I begin taking the children in order for them to help me find the sharpening rocks and learn to set free the weapon inside the rock. On my many long walks through the forest, I saw many creatures such as deer, squirrels, song birds, and I always speak to them kindly for they were my only friends on such journeys. Over the years, they became quite friendly. I never really tried to “train” them for battle, but gradually, their curiosity overcame their fear. Though not for the bobcats. They stayed wary. I cannot imagine beating an animal to train it though.”

Upon this, they contemplated for a silent, unhurried time.

“Sometimes, a little one can be annoying. It is easy to swat a fly away and sometimes… as well, a child. This is always wrong though.” A large, aging man, thick muscled and large boned, like POND MUD had spoken. Now, he continued. “Eventually, you drive them away so they actually want to annoy you and then you punish them more and they become more distant and you hit them harder….it seems as though it works, because you can get your way at that moment. But the moment your back is turned…you are creating war in your own house.”

A tall young woman with dark, penetrating eyes and long luxurious silken hair said, “We must all treat each other with respect.” Here she looked deliberately into the eyes of everyone there. “Especially the weakest amongst ourselves. Cruelty is against the grain of the tree of life. It will cause great damage, in the end. Great damage, indeed.”

Many Paths waited, not wanting to rush the people. After a long silence she spoke again. “It is clear that there is much that we do not know about these people. We do not know why they stole Tu-Swift. We do not know how many of these people there are and we do not know how many horses they have. We do not know how long it takes to train a horse, or exactly how they do it. They seem very confident indeed. But cruel. After all, they stole Tu-Swift. They attacked us at feast. And, it sounds as though they may use cruelty to train these horses. Though we have never trained horses. So, perhaps this is necessary for horses though not for wolves, nor eagles, nor children.”

A-OC of the Deer Clan spoke. “We know that they are capable of speed. And we know they did at least one thing bad by stealing a child. And, they must have some stealth as well because our guards did not warn us.”

Now, her sister, P-OC spoke along similar lines, “Perhaps we can arrange to make our paths more hospitable to those on foot and less so to those astride a horse.”

“Indeed,” said a man from the Muskrat Clan, “though some day we ourselves may learn to stand atop horses.”

P-OC nodded. “Yes, we should make any such alteration a temporary thing in case we might someday use these horses in such a way as to run so fast.”

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The people began to imagine various possible ways to do this. AO-C mentioned one idea. “For all but the eldest among us, it is easy to stand but also to crawl and get back to standing. If a tree were bent across a path at about this height” she said, as she drew her hand from left to right across her belly, our runners could easily duck under such a barrier. But I don’t think a horse would have such an easy time.”

Stone Chipper spoke, “Yes, and a person may turn sideways, and sidle through a slim opening. Horses though are big. There is the cool-place path, near the entrance to the great forest. It narrows between the two cliffs, beneath the raspberry bushes. If we made other paths encouraging others to take that entrance, we could narrow it still more and it would be impossible for horses to get through. Then, our would-be invaders and child-stealers would find this out and have to retrace their steps to approach us in a different way.”

All the people knew the place he meant. Even now, people would struggle to walk two abreast. Many Path sensed a commotion near the riverbank. Someone approached the edge of the circle. It was Trunk of Tree and he was helping another man. Friend of Squirrel! He appeared hurt. Many Paths said to Trunk of Tree, “What news? What happened to Friend of Squirrel? He seems off, somehow.”

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Trunk of Tree nodded, and said, “Yes. Indeed.” Then he asked his companion more quietly, “Are you okay to tell your story now?”

Friend of Squirrel nodded. The crowd quieted even more so that he could be heard. They could tell he was not able to shout. “There were three guards and we were posted together at the north entrance to the great forest. We were imagining the feast and tempting the squirrels to approach us for small treats. Suddenly we heard a great commotion. A host of men standing on horses appeared. The first opened his hands to show he had no weapons. He spoke gently though we did not understand his words. His gestures made it clear that they came in peace, and to trade, or so we thought. Several of the men – and I believe they were all men – opened some clothing on the side of the horse and brought out some fine looking skins. We gathered round and that is the last thing I remember. When I awoke, I tried to stagger to my feet but fell back to the earth. I slept until Trunk of Tree came upon me.”

Trunk of Tree nodded, “I am sorry to say that the companions of Friend of Squirrel are both dead, their heads smashed in with a club of some kind.Two other braves are retrieving their bodies now as well, but Friend of Squirrel should rest. I believe all of our attackers came through that path.”

Friend of Squirrel spoke again, “I am sorry. We were foolish to have been so incautious. They seemed so friendly. And we were taken aback to see such men atop horses. One of us should have stayed hidden with bow drawn. And now, Trunk of Tree has told me how calamity has struck.”

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“Trunk of Tree, thank you. Friend of Squirrel, go now and rest. What is done cannot be undone, but can be learned from. We are going to make our paths less friendly to horses for now. And, we must learn much more of these people. And, then, we must see what do do about such people that kill without battle and steal children from a feast.”

The Dialogue continued till the great fire became embers. Many ideas were shared. At last, a great weariness came upon Many Paths. She had only been leader a short time and now, not only was Tu-Swift stolen, but two fine braves had been killed and another injured. Her people needed reassurance and they needed sleep, but they also needed to be better prepared for another attack. This time, the ROI, if that’s what they were, would not have the element of surprise. Or, at least not those surprises. Many Paths supposed if they could run with horses, there may be other surprising kinds of danger they could wreak upon us. She wished she could speak with Shadow Walker now, but of course she couldn’t. The search party was now far beyond the hearing even of their drums.

She rose and ended the Dialogue though several stayed and continued to discuss how to make it harder for horses to penetrate to their center place. On the one hand, she wanted to encourage such ideas, but she was tired to the bone. She found herself listening but not contributing and even drumming her ring on the side of a log. She wondered how the search party was doing and how long it would take to find Tu-Swift. She worried about all of her tribe and especially about Tu-Swift. But dwelling on that would just make her less effective as a leader. So, instead, she fantasized that she could talk with Shadow Walker. She drifted off to sleep imagining she could. She toyed with the First Ring of Empathy and reminded herself that Shadow Walker had one as well.

Tools of Thought: Bohm Dialogue

Fifteen Properties

Travels with Sadie

The Walkabout Diaries

Essays on America: The Game

Essays on America: At Least he’s our Monster

Where does your Loyalty Lie?

My Cousin Bobby

The Update Problem

The Stopping Rule

What about the Butter Dish?

Wednesday

The Invisibility Cloak of Habit

Labelism

Roar, Ocean, Roar

Beginning of the Myths of the Veritas

Myths of the Veritas: Book 2 – The ROI

09 Monday Feb 2026

Posted by petersironwood in fantasy, fiction, psychology, story, Uncategorized, Veritas

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conflict, fiction, leadership, life, myths, peace, politics, story, strategy, tactics, truth, Veritas, war

{Translator’s Note}: The origins of the ROI tribe are not universally agreed upon but the “story” or “myth” or “history” that I personally prefer is the premise used in this story. Their language is precise in some ways, yet deeply embedded at both the syntactic and semantic levels are very rigid category framings. In some areas that we would consider important, they had scarcely any vocabulary at all. For example, they had only one word for love and viewed love as something of a disaster rather than as something wonderful. Often it was described as a kind of disease. (This “disease” allowed us to survive as a species). But for them, things that proved less rigid and less predictable and less quantifiable seem to have been confusing, uncomfortable and evil. Difficulties abounded in my attempts to portray what was actually happening until the Narrator told me that it was fine; he would fix it later because he had an omniscient view.

What follows served as both a creation myth and a daily devotional prayer among the ROI from early childhood till death.

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“Long ago, there were many tribes. But our tribe, the ROI, proved best of all. This is what we know:

“Each tribe had developed a different way of looking at life. Some argued that this was a natural consequence of having spent a long time in a different environment. But we know the truth; we chose our way because it is the best way. Ours is the way of putting numbers to everything and making very strict rules.

“Other tribes had different ideas so we devised a contest to see which tribe was correct. We would see who could propel their bodies fastest from the north edge of the common plain of Many Herds to the south end of the plain. All the tribes would go and prepare in whatever way they felt best and we would reconvene in one year to see who would win.

“All the other tribes interpreted our words to mean that we would have individuals from each tribe race for the prize — a fine parcel of land that stretched to the banks of the Stream of Many Trout. The various tribes went off and had various ways of choosing their fastest runners and having them train and train. Of course, we already had a superior solution: horses. After many years we discovered how to capture horses and then train them with the use of whips. Having a superior solution is the reason we suggested the contest.

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“When the day of the Great Contest came, the rest of the tribes were quite shocked to see the champion for the ROI astride a horse. Some seemed to think the horse would kill the human-astride or that the human-astride might break the back of the horse and kill it. Some felt it highly unlikely that the human-astride or rider would stay astride. {Translator’s Note: Analyses reveal that there was a shortening of the name as “riding” became more widespread.} Naturally, when the race was run, the ROI won. And, also naturally, the other tribes objected. But these objections eventually became mere glowing coals.

“Most tribes wanted to know how to capture and train horses. Naturally, we declined to show them. And, that wanting to have as their own that which was rightfully ours is why their complaints rekindled the fires of war. And, so the tribes worked together to drive us from our rightful home and we became wanderers. And so, we have been seeking another land. We will make this happen and destroy whoever now claims such a land. Let us remember this day, and every day of our lives, to assign numbers to all that is and to follow every rule exactly.”

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08 Sunday Feb 2026

Posted by petersironwood in fantasy, fiction, story, Uncategorized, Veritas

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decision, fantasy, fiction, horses, leadership, life, myths, peace, politics, short story, story, truth, Veritas, war, writing

Though the Veritas were at high feast and had no known enemies, they reacted with amazing speed and fluid preparedness. They radiated out to previously staked out positions across the stream, opposite the direction of the arrows. Shadow Walker and Fleet of Foot ran with Many Paths. Once under cover, they turned back to assess the situation.

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Many Paths tracked the flaming arrows still streaming into the Center Place. Her thoughts raced: Who was this enemy that attacked without warning? What had happened to the Veritas guards? Which pre-planned counter-attack should be mounted? Many Paths felt a hand upon her shoulder. It was Fleet of Foot. He pointed to a small herd of horses speeding up the hill on the other side. But…Many Paths stared. These horses had people astride them! For a moment it seemed impossible. Yet, here it was, clearly visible for a moment before the horses and their companions disappeared into the forest. The arrows stopped flying. People and horses running as one? It was all happening too fast for her to decide what to do. She glanced at Fleet of Foot and spoke in a low voice. “A double flanking counter-attack?”

Fleet of Foot nodded and barked a few short “commands” which were not words but the whistles of birds. The Veritas now streamed out from cover with weapons drawn and bows drawn, ready to overwhelm their enemy. Yet, no such enemy appeared. Those Veritas with the youngest and keenest ears could hear the distant muffled hoofbeats of horses in the wooded hills but no target could be discerned. The arrows were burning out and had not caused any serious or widespread damage.

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Many Paths quickly convened a war council. Shadow Walker quickly volunteered to lead a tracking party into the woods to determine the origin of this unseen enemy. Fleet of Foot and several other braves agreed to join including their visitors from the Nomads of the South. Many Paths knew that Tu-Swift would also volunteer but she judged that he was not quite ready for such a dangerous adventure. The arguments were forming on her lips but no such request came. She moved on to other matters at hand.

She turned to Eagle Eyes. “I have trained wolves and you have trained hawks and eagles. Have you imagined to train horses as well?”

“No, I mean, they are so large and fast and strong. How could one convince such an animal to serve a human? Yet, so too the eagle could easily fly away yet chooses to stay and befriend me. So, perhaps it is possible. I could try. I would have to think on that. It would take time. Much time. It is all happening too quickly.”

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Many Paths nodded. “Indeed, it all happened too swiftly for me to….” Many Paths broke off her speech and scanned the larger crowd of Veritas who were repairing the feast, putting out small fires, and fetching weapons and provisions for the tracking party. She swallowed hard as panic began to dry her mouth so badly she found it hard to speak loudly.

“Tu-Swift! TU-SWIFT!! Where is Tu-Swift?” Her council looked about them. Shadow Walker leapt on top of a small log pile and yelled, “Has anyone seen Tu-Swift?” The people paused in their tasks, looking about them. They muttered questions at each other and shook their heads. No-one had seen Tu-Swift since the feast had been interrupted.

Many Paths breathed deeply to calm herself. The Veritas were looking to her and she needed to keep a cool head. She looked to She-Who-Saves-Many-Lives and their eyes locked. The old shaman shook her head imperceptibly. Many Paths understood her meaning — that Many Paths was now the leader and it was up to her to decide what to do. Many Paths nodded back. Again panic almost overtook her as she imagined Tu-Swift injured or dead. Into her mind, unbidden, the image of the death of her parents came to mind. She pushed all this aside and strode over to the table where she had last seen Tu-Swift, dreading to find his lifeless body under the table.

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Tu-Swift at that moment was alive but already a fair distance away.

Mentally, Tu-Swift screamed: I can’t see! I can’t see! but he was, in fact, unable to manage more than a muffled grumble. He felt the cloth, tight across his mouth and the dark cloth around his head. He could not imagine what was happening. He felt his body bouncing up and down. Perhaps he had fallen into the rapids, he thought, and the rocks and frothing water tossed his body about like a fluttering leaf. But he didn’t feel wet. Fighting to stay coherent, he tried to organize his thoughts: Inventory. Inventory. An image of Many Paths playing a game with him flashed into his mind. She had explained that, even in confusion, one could use various tricks to stay calm. One was to take inventory. What do I know and what can I sense?

He began at the top. The back of his head pained him. He could hear. He could see as well, though not well. The world continued to bounce but it was cloth tight around his head that made it difficult to see. He heard pounding all around him. He smelled pine and dirt and horses. His wrists hurt and so did his ankles. He tried to move them but found them tightly bound. The pounding sound, he recognized. And people were talking, but not in the tongue of the Veritas. He tried to recall the snippets of other languages he had heard. This speech didn’t sound like Cupiditas, or the speech of the Southern Nomads nor yet of the Fierce Fighters of the North.

What did he remember? There had been a race. He had raced Many Paths to the Center Place where they were about to have a feast. Had he won the race? He couldn’t recall. He had turned and run straight into a sapling. It must have knocked him out. No, that wasn’t a hard enough blow. The sapling had sprung him backwards. It had mainly hit his chest, not the back of his head which now throbbed with every bounce. Had he fallen backwards and hit his head? Maybe, but how would that make him tied up? And bouncing? Inventory. Inventory. Tu-Swift tried to sort it out, but nothing made sense and he drifted out of consciousness again.

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Many-Paths thought she had been fearing the worst: to see the lifeless body of her brother. But when she saw instead, the obvious signs that he had been dragged away, she found that, this was even worse than the worst. If her brother had died, of course, that was cause for grief. But no-one is brought back from the dead. Her journey would be a trail of tears, but it was a single path. Her only strategic choice for the tribe would be whether or not to pursue revenge for her own private motive. It would be easy, she knew, to slide from one issue to the other. She might hate the people who killed her brother and want them all dead, even though this might (or might not) be disastrous for the tribe. They didn’t really know enough about this enemy right now to decide the best course of action. But she could argue and support those who argued that this enemy was dangerous and deadly; that they needed to be weeded out now or they could keep striking like this over and over. There was certainly that possibility. But Many Paths knew that misleading the tribe in even the smallest degree would be the worst possible thing that a leader could do. She would be able, she knew, to fight and win the battle of that temptation.

But now, Many Paths was faced with a far more painful path, and a far less certain one. She thought: What to do? What was best for Tu-Swift? What was best for everyone? Should they invade, negotiate, run. Determining the best course of action for her own selfish motives would be difficult and complex. Determining the best course of action for her tribe would also be difficult and complex. Trying to disentangle the two so that she could do what was best for the tribe would be more difficult still. She never once doubted whether this was the proper course of action, but she did doubt her ability to do all that. Perhaps she should relinquish leadership to another. She at least knew that she needed the counsel of She Who Saves Many Lives.

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Many Paths turned to walk to the cabin of She Who Saves Many Lives and there she was and the elder shaman spoke immediately, “You will do the right thing, Many Paths. You will do the right thing. Listen to the heart of your heart and you will know. It is okay to share everything with others to get their input, of course. I know you to be a listener. Go and lead our people. Go.”

“What kind of a people would tear a child from their family?” Many Paths asked.

“Indeed,” said She Who Saves Many Lives, “that is the central question. What kind of a people would tear a child away from their family? And, what will we do about it? Now, Go and lead the people.”

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Author Page on Amazon.

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