The hot summer sun laid like a tortuous rock on Viggu's back. The mosquitoes, which he had grown used to by now, laid like a thick fog in the air. They invaded most parts of the body, including the ears and nostrils, lest you had coated yourself in special tribal tinktures which for some reason kept them at bay. Some of the elders, back in the village, had told Viggu that mosquitoes were signals of protective and helpful spirits, though it was unclear exactly whom was protected by these pestuous things.
His first hunting trip with his father, Juggo, had gone well as of yet. Last evening they had continued their long walk upstream, checking traps and laying new ones where they could. Though having found no large game as of yet they still had more than half of the stream to cover, and were hopeful it would provide for them. They still had left some of the food they had brought along in case of emergency.
Laying himself to bed at their shelter in the evening, Viggu stared up towards the star-filled yet halfly sunny sky. He felt as if he was gazing into the endless distant of generations to come and generations that had gone. He felt at peace, envisiong himself and his future as finally being a true man once he had completed this first hunting trip of his. So important was the ritual of the hunting trip to his tribe (the Kuikka-tribe), that not only could you not marry at all before it had been completed, but each male was expected to make his own Kota and live for himself once he returned from the trip. Viggu had been preparing it back at home for weeks upon weeks, decidingly furnishing it as best he could. Though he would've wished several times help from his friends and family, none such could be given as per the customs of the tribe.
He fell asleep, yet woke again to a quiet and rasping sort of sound. Realising his father was likely out strolling early in the morning, Viggu thought naught of it and attempted heading back to his blissful slumber. Not long afore, however, he was jolted awake by a sudden stirr, a rasped scream that was let out. It was his father, and this was his scream of pain, death, and release from his world. A striking bolt of energy hit Viggu as he rushed towards the lean-to where his father had been sleeping a short distance away on the mire. He found him dead, his eyes closed and his body stiller than ever Viggu could've imagined. The blood-stained mire gave a orange-ish color that was disturbing and sickening to Viggu's eyes. He felt a void, or perhaps an immense pain (he was much to shocked and disturbed to tell which) as he gazed upon what had been his idol and image of the world having drifted away. There were no signs of big struggle, and death had come fast for Juggo. Before Viggu could gather his thoughts further to any sort of emotional slap across the proverbial face, he heard the roar of a beast that couldn't be far away. With the instincts of a true-grown man, Viggu quickly took all supplies he could from his father, all he could need and headed towards the nearest bit of covered forest to make sure he himself was not in range of whatever foul beast that had stricken his father.
With tears swelling in his eyes and his head feeling both full and heavy, he wandered seemingly without aim through the forest. Before long, he had lost his bearings. With no idea where he was, or how to reach his home, he fell to his knees. He cried, screamed and embraced the anguish of what had happened. Whatever creatures might have followed him, the ungodly screams and pure pain flowing from his throat had by now surely driven them away. He might have done this for an hour, he might have done it for a day. Again, he could not tell what really went on. All he knew was pain and pain ten-fold.
When his eyes were drier than a fire, and he felt as if he was wholly empty, he rose to his feet once more. He looked at the seemingly endless rows of trees and remembered the tales he had been told of what happened to each person wen they died. When you died, you left to join the spirit world in the far north, beyond the sea. So the elders said, and so it was for Viggu. He had pondered this in his crying and now looked decidedly at what he presumed (judging by the sun) to be north. He knew his mission, and he knew he could not fail. His tribe and home be damned, he could not bare to come back without his father. He was determined. He would travel as far north as he could, and he would find his father. He would bring him back from the land of the dead, or join him there.
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