I had been bound to the altar for an unknown amount of time. I also lost count of how many shamans came to me to deliver wine for my parched throat and fed me bread. Maybe they were the same ones but there was no way to tell. My memory had started to become a blur of robed figures. They were dressed in ritualistic garb that was traditional for their clan. A beautiful, ornate sash that hung from their necks which had the etchings of our shared Gods. Although I did not know if the shamans were the same, each of them wore large antlers attached to their heads and their faces were obscured by a mask. The antlers showed their rank as was custom for their clan. I only knew such a fact since it was a similar ranking system to ours. The third that was in the middle had a hood which covered his face. It was in the shape of a deer and the copper shined in the sun.
They came sometime in the afternoon and then in the evening. Once when the sun was at the highest point in the sky and the other when the sun was at its lowest. There were about ten different symbols and each had their specific meanings. If I wasn't concentrating on how the ropes were starting to dig into my wrists and ankles, then I would be able to identify who dropped off offerings and gave me my final meals.
Ropes were intricately wrapped around my wrists and legs. They were wound tight enough that if I struggled, I would end up cutting into my skin. The pain made me think back to when I was captured. I was such a fool to hunt around their patrol. If I had only been more vigilant...
There would be time to dwell on the mistakes later. For now, I had to concentrate on keeping myself calm and in control. I glanced around the environment and took in the forest around me. There was hardly anything out of place. It looked like any other patch of forest. Well, except that I was tied to it.
The sun started to begin its decent in the sky and sweat formed on my naked body. It rolled down my hairy chest and over my abs. It sparkled in the afternoon sun and I did not know how much longer I could take in the elements. I had only hoped that my captors were not cruel.
As if on cue, the shamans showed themselves. Three of them to be exact, each dressed the same as before.
"How long have I been here?" I managed to speak after I gulped down a helping of wine. The alcohol eased whatever sense of worry I had. My fate was sealed when their warriors cornered me. The shaman looked down at me with a disregarding frown as if my question was more annoying than anything else. Perhaps they were the same three tending to me, then.
"Twelve hours," the one holding the wineskin answered. He must have been the leader. His voice sounded familiar. They hardly talked but I had managed to get some of them to speak when they would snap at me to get me to stop struggling in the binds.
"Why am I here and not kept as a prisoner?"
The shaman looked at me, his mask's lifelessly stared back into my eyes. The only thing I could see was two brown pupils barring into mine. Even though this was the first interaction I have had in an uncountable amount of time, I would have chosen any other person to have a conversation with.
"Would that be more appropriate? Put you in binds in some tent? It is strange that you wish to make yourself even more uncomfortable," the shaman began as he brought the wineskin back to my lips. I turned my head away and refused his drink. He frowned. "We have fed you and have given you wine. The only thing you must do is wait."
He had a point. The wine and food was more beneficial to me than being tied in a holding cell somewhere. I had wished they had allowed me to keep my clothes, however. I was not ashamed of my body, but I was even more vulnerable out in the open. If I had managed to escape, it would not be comfortable to run. The likelihood that the shaman and his lackeys would find me again would increase exponentially.
The shaman moved to look down at me like a practiced medicine doctor. He had a calculating gaze and I knew that he was trying to read me. I could tell he was the leader just by that look alone.
"You are a sacrifice to this forest. You should be thankful we have spared you from bondage, hunter," the shaman spoke with enough resolve to tell me I was not going back to their village anytime soon. It was an ironic twist that I was still in bondage, however.
At least I knew what was going to be done with me. My path was laid out for me by fate; I merely had to take the path. The thought that I would be tied to the stone altar and left to rot for days to come was...calming somehow. There was nothing I could do. Struggling until my skin was shaved down would work but where would I go? If I did not die from infection, I would die from the elements.
The forest canopy reminded me of how deep I was in this green hell. Birds chirped and flew across the sky. With the sun beginning its descent, everything had a strange, pink glow. It was surreal and on any normal hunting expedition, I would have taken some time to appreciate the bounty that nature had provided for me and the rest of my tribe. But now was not the time to be thankful in that regard. What I was thankful for was when the shaman put the wineskin to my lips.
"Drink. The summer heat will drain you," he said. Instead of refusing, I decided to play along. There was something that irritated me about him. He had a way about him that commanded my attention. As he tipped the wineskin to my lips and the sweet liquid nectar flowed down my throat, there was almost a familiarity to him. If only I had picked up on subtleties earlier.
I shook away the feeling and I did as I was told. If they were keeping me alive, they had something in mind for me and I had no choice in the matter. Refusing food and water would do nothing in my situation. My clan had to know I was gone. If a hunter did not return, they would send a rescue party. They had to...
That is, if this was any normal emergency.
"What do you want with me?"
The crinkling of the shaman's eyes told me he was smiling behind the mask. He looked up into the dense leaves of the forest as if marveling at them. Two priests came up next to him and carried offerings of gold along with berries still on their branches. The berries had enough of a scent carried with them on the wind that I could immediately identify them; Mountain's Gifts. The deep crimson red along with the small stems that peeked out of the top of each one gave the species away. Both of the priests made sure to hold the branch in such a way that their soft skin would not come into contact with the sharp thorns that were along the stems.
"We will leave that next part up to the spirits. The Whisperers have told us so," he replied with a simple flick of his left hand to his assistants behind him. I could see blond peeking out from the one who stepped forward first. His dark hazel eyes scanned over me as if he had something he wished to say. There was a short pause between us.
