The piercing, icy snow fell down from the mountains in torrents, as if the Primal Giants were finally taking their revenge against the Dêuoi, who had defeated them at the Battle of the Great Plain.
Galatos wrapped his thin cloak tighter around him, pulling the hood low over his eyes to fend off the biting wind. His long hair and even longer beard provided little warmth. Every strand of hair was layered in ice.
He wrapped his aching, bone cold fingers tighter around his walking stick. The rough wood sent sharp pains up his hand and into his arm. Yet, somehow he found comfort in it.
He had never known his father, the one he knew by name only as Ogmios, who left the same day he was born. His mother had told him numerous times that his father had to return to his own people because of the important obligations he had to perform. He had left only this walking stick for Galatos.
When he is old enough to lift that, then he will be ready to walk forward and face his destiny.
Galatos had tried to lift it every year on the anniversary of his birth. Then, last year, he had finally been able to lift it in his hand. He had half-expected to see his father come walking through the door and exclaim how proud he was of him.
But he never came, not even after Galatos had sat vigil outside his home for three days and nights, holding the walking stick in his lap and waiting for his father to come and tell him what his destiny entailed.
He still didn’t know where his destiny would lead him or what he would do when he got there. The only thing he knew was that he needed to find food soon or else his corpse would be buried under this blizzard until spring.
A strong gust of wind howled, forcing Galatos to bury his face in his chest and close his eyes. When the wind slacked down a little, he opened his eyes to discover tracks just ahead of him. Throwing aside pain and hunger, he ran over to the tracks and fell down to his knees.
They were fresh tracks. Judging by the size and shape, it was a bear. He followed the tracks with his eyes until they disappeared around a bend just a short distance ahead.
Galatos debated whether to follow the tracks or not. A bear would make a fine meal, providing enough food to last him until possibly even spring. But it would be an extremely dangerous and foolish endeavor to try and take on a bear with only a walking stick as a weapon.
Finally, Galatos stood up. “I will die anyways out in this blizzard if I don’t try,” he said to the snow swirling down around him. Grabbing the walking stick in both hands, he stared deeply at the wood. “Help me, atîr, wherever you may be” he pleaded.
Galatos then set off after the bear tracks before the snow storm could completely wipe them away.
He turned round the bend and came to a halt, staring in disbelief at the sight before him.
The bear was twice the size of any one he had ever seen before. Galatos knew there was no way he could harm the bear. The massive beast would shred him to pieces with its enormous claws.
Then, the bear moved to the side to reveal a woman sitting on a rock. In her lap, she was holding a basket of fruit. She reached down into the basket and picked up one of the fruits. With no fear whatsoever, she reached forward and fed it to the ferocious bear, who ate it as gently as a child from a mother’s hand.
“There’s no need to hide,” the woman said, feeding the bear another piece of fruit. “The bear won’t harm you.”
Galatos stepped forward into the open, unsure of what to say as the woman continued to feed the bear. To his surprise, the animal didn’t turn around and attack him.
“It’s alright,” the woman said in a gentle voice. “Come closer.”
Galatos walked closer on trembling legs until he stood beside the bear. He cautiously reached out his hand and placed it on the massive shoulder of the animal. He began to rub the fur, petting it as he would a tame dog.
The bear rumbled deep in its throat, a sound that conveyed the pleasure it felt.
After the woman had given the bear the last piece of fruit, it bowed its head for a moment as if in gratitude and then left to go back into the woods.
“Now, let’s get you warmed up and something in your stomach,” the woman said to Galatos as she stood up. “Follow me.”
The trip through the woods was in silence except for the sound of Galatos’ stomach growling and his teeth chattering.
After a short distance, Galatos saw a cave up ahead. Just before they reached the entrance, the snow storm came to a halt.
Inside the cave, there was a hearth fire in the middle of the cave. Galatos hurried over to it and sat down in front of it, warming his frozen body.
“I will be back in a moment with some food and drink,” the woman said.
Within moments, the woman returned. She laid out several plates of food and a pitcher of wine for Galatos. She hesitated a moment to make sure Galatos didn’t require anything else and then went and sat in silence on the other side of the cave.
When Galatos had put away his desire for food and drink, the woman questioned him.
“My name is Artio,” she began. “But I do not know your name. Recount this to me, stranger, and speak truly: What is your name and who are your parents? From where do you come? Few come to these parts and I do not remember having seen you before.”
“My name is Galatos, the son of Celtina and Ogmios, although I have never seen or met my father. On the day I was born, he left because he had to return to his own people and his obligations. All I have of him is this walking stick.” Galatos paused a moment and lifted it in the air, showing it to Artio. “My home,” he continued, “is far from here.”
“Ogmios,” Artio repeated. “I am familiar with your father. We are both members of the same tribe, although it is rare that I see him.”
Galatos’ eyes widened in amazement when Artio said she knew his father. “You know my father?” he asked, thinking he may have misunderstood her.
“Indeed I do,” Artio confirmed. “And one day you will meet him. But you have a long journey ahead of you. And it is my obligation as your host to ensure you have everything you need before you move on.”
“I appreciate your generosity and hospitality,” Galatos said. He paused a moment staring at the fire in front of him.
“Is something on your mind, Galatos?” Artio asked.
“I’m not sure where I’m supposed to go. All I know is that I’m supposed to find my destiny. But I don’t know what that entails.”
Artio nodded her head in understanding. “Many are lost or unsure when they start out on a journey. Signs along the way help guide them, though. You just have to keep your eyes open and follow your heart.”
Galatos found comfort and strength in Artio’s words.
Artio provided Galatos with supplies: clothing and food to last him for a cycle of the moon.
“I will give you one last piece of advice,” Artio said as Galatos was preparing to leave. “Your destiny lies in the East. And along the way, you will meet others to help guide you.”
Artio then walked back towards the cave. After she entered it, Galatos heard the growl of a bear echoing throughout the woods.
He turned back around and stared in disbelief. At the entrance of the cave, there stood a bear watching him. But Galatos recognized the eyes of Artio in the eyes of the bear: warm and full of compassion.
Galatos bowed his head for a moment. “Thank you, Artio,” he said to the bear and then turned to continue his journey.
He had traveled less than a day before he came upon a deer laying on the ground next to a stream. He cautiously walked over to the deer so as not to spook it and knelt down beside it.
It was a fawn, less than a season old probably. The front leg of the fawn was injured, bent at an odd angle as if it was broken. As he examined the leg, the fawn stared at Galatos with frightened eyes.
Galatos glanced around the clearing, looking for the fawn’s mother. But there were no other deer in sight. As he turned back around, a memory flooded into his mind.
He had been a small boy, playing outside. Despite his mother’s warning to be careful, he had climbed up into the branches of a tall tree. Even as a small boy, he had shown no fear and often threw caution to the wind.
As he had stood on one of the topmost branches, he stared across the wide field between the woods and his village. He saw his mother standing in front of their home with her hands on her hips. She would lift her hands to her mouth for a moment before quickly placing her hands back on her hips again.
Though he had been too far away to hear, Galatos had known that his mother was yelling for him and that she was growing angrier with each passing moment because he was not answering. Galatos had giggled to himself when he thought about how his mother would react if she had known he was watching her from the tall branches of a tree so far away.
Realizing he had better get home, Galatos had began to climb down from the tree. Before he knew what had happened, his foot had slipped on one of the branches and he had come crashing down to the ground, his arm hitting a large rock at the base of the tree.
As Galatos had made his way home, he had known that his arm was broken. As the pain shot through his arm, feelings of fear and helplessness had consumed him. He had never forgotten the feeling of relief that he had felt when he had reached his mother and she had tended to his injury.
“Don’t worry, little one,” Galatos said to the fawn, “I will help you.”
Finding two sticks laying on the ground, he made a splint for the fawn’s leg, wrapping a strip of cloth torn off from his tunic around the sticks to hold them in place. After he tied the strips of cloth together, he retrieved a cup from the supplies that Artio had given him. He went to the stream and filled the cup with some water.
Kneeling back down beside the fawn, he slowly poured some of the water into the deer’s mouth. He then fed the fawn some of the food that Artio had given him, feeding the deer from his hand.
When he was done, Galatos sat for a moment, gently rubbing the deer’s head.
He knew that he shouldn’t linger and that he should continue on his journey. But his thoughts kept turning back to the kind and generous acts of hospitality that Artio had shown him.
“Don’t worry, little one,” he finally said to the fawn. “I will stay with you until you are better.”
Galatos laid down beside the fawn to sleep, covering them both in a blanket given to him by Artio in order to keep them warm throughout the night.
The next morning, as he was feeding the fawn, Galatos heard a rustling sound in the bushes behind him. He turned and was surprised to see the tips of a set of antlers slowly coming towards him. He was shocked, however, when a woman stepped forth from the bushes with three small fawns following behind her.
The antlers he had seen were some type of headdress the woman was wearing atop her long brown hair. She wore a long, blue gown that rustled as the wind blew. Despite the cold of winter, Galatos felt the air sound him grow warmer as the woman approached.
As Galatos looked at her, the flowing blue gown reminded him of the waters of the stream next to him flowing down their course.
“I thank you,” the woman said when she reached him.
“Thank me for what?” Galatos asked.
“For finding my child and caring for him when he was injured,” she responded. “Most people would have passed by him without a second thought. But not you. You stopped on your journey and helped him, even staying with him afterwards throughout the night.” The woman paused for a moment, turning her head to the side and examining Galatos in a curious manner. “Why did you help him?” she finally asked.
Galatos thought about it for a moment. “It was the proper thing to do,” he answered. “Hospitality does not only exist between humans. It should include humans and animals as well. If someone is injured, then it is your obligation to help them.”
The woman nodded her head in approval at the words of Galatos. “Well, now I will return the generosity that you have shown for one of my children.”
Galatos stood up and looked deeply into the woman’s eyes. “That is not necessary,” he said. “There is the common bond of life between myself and this deer, and it was my honor to help this young deer to continue to exist in this world.”
The woman smiled. “Nevertheless, I will give you some advice, Galatos son of Ogmios.”
Galatos was surprised to hear the woman say not only his own name but also the name of his father. “How do you know who I am?”
The woman ignored his question. “Follow this stream as you continue your journey. It’s course will lead you to a river. That river will lead you to a mountain. It is at that mountain that you will find the beginning of your quest that will lead you to your destiny.”
Without waiting for a response, the woman walked over to the fawn, gently picked it up, and started to go back into the forest from whence she had came.
“Wait,” Galatos called out, stopping her before she could disappear into the woods. “Who are you?”
The woman smiled. “We will meet again, Galatos,” she answered. She closed her eyes, deeply inhaling the air around her. She opened her eyes again. “When spring returns and my children are old enough to fend for themselves, we will meet again and then you will learn my name.”
The woman turned and returned to the woods, carrying the wounded fawn in her arms as the other three fawns followed close behind her.
Bessus Nouiogalation 