The first day at the apprentice camp began without the slightest gentleness. At the first light of dawn, a gong rang out, a sound of cracked metal that tore through the veil of sleep and startled even the heaviest sleepers.
ZE-RAK jumped up, his eyes dark-circled but his body taut like a bowstring. He had spent much of the night awake, his mind haunted by familiar shadows, but his mental training had begun: he had refused to let fatigue or emotion undermine his vigilance.
On the training ground, MOUGBE, the broad-chested instructor, awaited them, looking as fresh and relentless as stone.
"Good! I hope everyone is here and awake!" he boomed, his voice carrying effortlessly in the cool morning air. "We're starting directly with the study of animals. And as you can see, I will be your teacher for this subject."
A murmur ran through the group. Some had expected a different arrangement, for the three instructors to form a single group.
"Before we begin, a simple question," MOUGBE continued, his gaze sweeping over the still sleepy faces. "What is the primary quality of a good hunter?"
Answers flew, timid or confident.
"Courage!"
"Strength!"
"Patience!"
ZE-RAK remained silent. His father had all three qualities. And look where that had led him. He observed MOUGBE. He's talking about animals. The answer must be related to that. Knowledge is the foundation of everything.
"Knowledge," he finally offered, in a neutral voice that contrasted with the others' exclamations.
MOUGBE pointed a thick finger in his direction, one eyebrow slightly raised.
"Correct!" he thundered. "Without knowledge, your courage is merely recklessness, your strength brutality, and patience, inaction. A lion is strong. A snake is patient. But we, humans, have this." He tapped his temple. "Our ancestors paid with their blood, their sweat, and their lives to acquire the knowledge I will pass on to you. Honor their memory by listening. Never forget: you walk on the paths they traced."
He then grabbed a cage covered with coarse cloth and placed it in the center of the circle formed by the apprentices. With a theatrical gesture, he removed the cloth, revealing a small animal with eyes shining like black pearls and agile feet.
"Open your eyes and ears wide. Today, we will talk about a small animal that has fed the tribe more than the largest of buffaloes, and that has foiled more arrogant hunters than a pack of predators: the agouti."
ZE-RAK felt a strange familiarity, like a dormant cord suddenly vibrating within him. MOUGBE's words awakened an echo, not of memories, but of sensations. It was the raw material of his simulations.
The instructor continued with a precise and vivid description.
"The agouti is a stocky, nocturnal rodent, with fine legs and a glossy coat, often reddish-brown, sometimes darker. Its eyes are lively, its ears small but mobile, capable of catching the crack of a twig twenty paces away. It moves with careful, small strides, its body close to the ground."
Each technical detail seemed to fall into ZE-RAK's mind and lodge there perfectly, as if he were rediscovering something he had always known, as if his brain were wax waiting for the imprint of knowledge.
"...the agouti lives near fields and thickets, where tree fruits fall. It often comes out at dawn or dusk, fleeing the heat of the day. But its greatest cunning is this: it is a sower in spite of itself. It hides its reserves for the winter, burying nuts and seeds here and there. It feeds the forest that feeds it. And since it often stops, standing on its hind legs to listen and sniff the wind, that's the moment when the patient hunter, lurking in the shadows, must strike. So yes, patience and observation are our allies, but they must be guided by knowledge of your prey."
The apprentice who had spoken of patience gave a small, satisfied smile.
"It is also legendarily greedy: a ripe fruit, a cashew nut left in plain sight, is a much more reliable bait than an exhausting chase."
The apprentices began to murmur, exchanging plans and ideas; a few proud smiles appeared, as if they already held the ultimate secret.
"Very well, the lesson stops here," announced MOUGBE.
The astonishment was general.
"What? That's it?"
"But...we barely know how to hunt it!"
"You're just giving us details and that's it?"
"You misunderstood," MOUGBE replied, impassive. "My role is not to chew the work for you, but to show you the way. You will not learn to hunt by listening. A true hunter forges his knowledge through experience. I gave you all the elements. The agouti, its behavior, its strengths, its weaknesses. It's up to you to deduce the hunting techniques. Analyze, test, fail, start over. That is how knowledge becomes yours, how it becomes instinct. Theory without practice is just wind noise."
Grumbles of frustration rose. But MOUGBE ignored them.
"Go and eat. The weapons course will take place this afternoon. Good luck."
The news sowed the beginnings of panic among the newcomers. How to train without instructions? How to compete without technique?
ZE-RAK, however, felt a strange familiarity in the master's words. This method... it resonated with the very functioning of his mind. I know these ideas... Is it a memory? Or just... intuition?
---
The mess hall was a noisy, lively place, filled with the greasy smell of roasted meat and millet porridge. The NDALA women served the rations with nonchalant efficiency. Groups had already formed naturally, leaving ZE-RAK alone at a table, picking distractedly at his food. He wasn't an active pariah, but an island of silent indifference.
"Sigh... I'm a bit stressed about the weapons course," he murmured to himself, a habit he had kept. "Father used a spear. I always imagined using one, with a knife as a complement."
He closed his eyes for a second, trying to visualize the scene, but the image was blurry, clouded by more recent memories.
"But to hunt an agouti, so fast and wary... is a spear suitable? Too heavy, too slow. A knife would require getting very close, almost touching it. Maybe using traps, or..."
His reflection was interrupted by a shadow stopping in front of his table, blocking the light.
"Hey, it's you, ZE-RAK? ZE-BE's son?"
ZE-RAK looked up slowly, without haste. It was a tall, burly lad with broad shoulders, a mocking smile, and narrow eyes. He recognized him as one of those who had snickered the loudest at his arrival. A ringleader.
"..."
"Ah, sorry," the tall one sneered, feigning correction. "I should say THE SON OF THE TRAITOR ZE-BE?"
ZE-RAK calmly set down his wooden spoon. He sized up the other, his gaze empty of all emotion, a dark, deep well.
"Hey. WHO ARE YOU?" he asked, his voice perfectly flat, without anger, without fear. Just a question.
The air around him seemed to grow colder.
The young man seemed surprised by the tone and the gaze. He had expected fear, submission, perhaps a whiny retort. Not this chilling calm.
"Chill, I'm joking," he said, his smile fading a little. "I saw you putting a bit too much pressure on yourself, alone in your corner. I just came to tell you to take it easy. Only a few guys manage to rise in rank in two months. But well," he added, a hint of venom in his voice, "your father did it, right? The prodigy. You want to be like him?"
ZE-RAK looked at him as if his words simply made no sense. As if he were observing a particularly noisy insect.
"Shut up, it's none of your business," he said, without raising his voice. Then his gaze became sharper, more direct. "And get lost... you're blocking my light."
The lout stood gaping. The dismissal was so direct, so contemptuous, that it destabilized him. The violence he knew was loud, made of shouts and fists. This one was silent, and much more frightening.
"Oh, interesting," he managed to stammer, regaining a semblance of assurance. "Take care of yourself, then. We'll meet again."
"No thanks..." replied ZE-RAK, turning his attention back to his plate, ignoring him completely.
Once alone, he pushed his plate away. His appetite was gone. The taste of the food had become insignificant.
Who was that? Doesn't matter. A barking dog. I expected it. And I am ready.
He got up and left, leaving his meal half-finished. He needed to walk, to clear his thoughts, to prepare his mind for the afternoon. The stress was mounting, but it was a raw energy he intended to channel, to forge into a weapon as sharp as the blade he might choose.