cat_77: old tree w/color (tree)
cat_77 ([personal profile] cat_77) wrote2011-01-09 09:14 pm

Original Fic - Harvest of Rain

So for [livejournal.com profile] fandom_stocking, I went trawling through the tags and found one that intrigued me. [livejournal.com profile] gehayi was looking for some non-European folklore. Native American Studies happened to be of great interest to me in high school and college and I took multiple courses on it. I was not sure if I should post/offer something, but [livejournal.com profile] threnodyjones strongly encouraged me to do so. This is the result.

Title: Harvest of Rain
Length: 730 words
Rating: PG
Genre: Mythology, Native American (Salish)
Synopsis: In a time of drought, there can be many types of harvests.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and no disrespect is meant to any of the mythological figures depicted in this story.


~~~~~~~~~~

Coyote was bored. The day was warm, too warm to do anything fun, and most of the People were staying near their homes as simple travel seemed far too arduous a task.

Coyote wandered and looked for something to entertain him. He crossed the gorge and traveled both up and down a hill, but he did not find anything save for a lone tree with two tiny fruits left in its topmost branches, and a very young warrior who looked very put out.

“And what brings you out this way, young warrior?” Coyote asked.

The young man looked startled, but only for a moment, before he replied, “I search for water for my people. The creek has run dry and we are all very thirsty.”

Coyote thought about that for a moment. It had been warmer than usual for longer than usual, and the land beneath his feet was caked hard and solid, the breeze from their very words causing dust to blow around them.

Coyote had a plan.

“You climb that tree and bring me those fruit, and I will give you all the water you can drink,” Coyote said.

The warrior looked doubtful. “Why should I trust you?”

Coyote shrugged. “You may even keep half of the fruit for yourself. If I do not give you your water, then at least you have that.”

The warrior seemed to think that was fair enough and took to climbing. He reached the top of the tree, gathered the two small fruit, and brought them down. He handed one to Coyote, who shook his head and said, “No, all of the fruit,” and pointed upwards with a grin.

The warrior looked up and, on the same branch where he had just plucked the two pieces, another two pieces lay. So the warrior climbed up again, and brought his prize down again. Again Coyote shook his head and again the warrior looked to find more fruit. Again and again he climbed, until the warrior grew quite tired and Coyote’s belly grew quite full.

The warrior looked to his large pile of fruit and offered, “I am sorry, I cannot climb any more. If you still hunger, I offer you some of my own fruit, and request only that you grant me the water you promised in return."

Coyote thought about that. He had satisfied both his hunger and his need for entertainment. It was clear the People would have plenty to eat that night, if only the warrior could gather enough strength to bring it home. He nodded and said, “You have upheld your part of our bargain. Gather your food and go home, your water will await you there.”

The warrior looked betrayed, but dutifully gathered what he could. He turned back to Coyote and asked, “But how will you bring the water?”

Coyote looked to the sky and clapped his hands and the sound of thunder echoed off the dirt and stone. The water began to patter down and the tinkle of it splashing against the earth melded with Coyote’s own laughter.

The warrior ran home as quickly as he could as the rain became a deluge, the hard packed earth not much more than a field of mud.

Coyote continued to laugh as the gorges filled with water and the creek flowed once more. He was quite pleased with himself as he was now full, entertained, and cooled from the summer heat. He started to walk back the way he came, but his feet slipped upon the hillside and he tumbled down, stirring up great mounds of thick rich earth that spread out behind him and continued to absorb the water.

Coyote tried to dig himself out, but sank deeper and deeper, the mud and dirt and water weighing him down, until he found himself suddenly tugged free. Fox stood before him and shook his head, but pulled him to his feet once more.

With a clap of his own hands, Fox slowed the rain. “Come, Coyote, you have had your fun,” he said.

The two friends walked home together, the last bits of rain rinsing them clean. Behind them, the People came out from their homes to find steams flowing with fresh water, and fields tilled with dark rich earth. They greeted the warrior and shared his fruit and knew the drought had finally come to an end.

~~~~~~~~~~


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