Time
Time flows by regardless of what you do. Only when you face true solitude do you understand the ruthless face of time. This solitude is not a simple loneliness but one where nothing remains except solitude itself. It’s like the loneliness of a hidden hunter’s cabin in the depths of an epic forest with towering trees. Everything that belonged to that cabin now belongs to nature. This was a justified reclaim because those wooden planks were once living trees, home to colorful caterpillars, various insects, and harmonizing birds.
What about me? What was the cause of my loneliness and despair? I had only done what was asked of me. I had followed the teachings of my ancestors and obeyed the commands of our Great Khan. Why then was I abandoned like a cabin? I have been pondering this since receiving the edict from the Great Khan. What did I do wrong to lose the only precious thing I had in life, along with my frail body? My mind is a mess. Writing helps me calm my thoughts. Maybe then I can understand why these things happened to me.
The greatest regret in my life is not having a family. After drifting from place to place for many years, I decided never to marry. The fate my wife and child might face scared me. Perhaps it was not my right, but I had decided on behalf of a family that never existed. Did I anger Tengri by doing so? Did I defy destiny? Are these occurrences because of that?
Loneliness is like an endless swamp. You initially get stuck without realizing it. Every move to escape sinks you deeper. You struggle, shout, and cry, but it’s in vain. No one hears you. Eventually, only your head remains above the swamp. The mud covers your chin and then closes your mouth. The only thing keeping you alive is the difficult breaths you take through your nostrils. In a few seconds, your entire body is engulfed by the swamp. Your life flashes before your eyes as you surrender your soul in panic and fear. It’s much more painful than drowning in water. But the hardest part is for the friend who watches you die, unable to do anything. While you rise to the sky, they are left with a lifelong regret.
However, one becomes truly lonely not when they lose their loved ones, but when there is nothing left to love.
Many years ago, after completing my training, my ancestors sent me to a village called Yanı. Male infants in this village had been disappearing for some time. The elder of the village had sought help from my ancestors, and they decided to send me to address the issue. I remember the pounding of my heart as I rode towards the village, trembling with excitement. They were my first steps into reality. After tying my horse to the stable, I began talking to the villagers who had lost their children.
According to them, male infants under forty days old were disappearing suddenly. The selective nature and speed of the abductions made me think of only one creature: the Sheshe bird. The Sheshe bird fed only on the souls of infants under forty days old. It had no nest and lived and hunted alone. Hence, I could catch a Sheshe bird only when it came to hunt.
The villagers, unaware of the Sheshe’s existence, still didn’t understand what was happening. Some blamed various terrifying creatures, some said they were being punished for not following Tengri’s commands, and some believed it was a human doing. The villagers kept vigil by their babies, but they didn’t know how fast the Sheshe moved. In a brief moment of inattention, infants disappeared into the darkness with the Sheshe’s strong claws. All that remained were the split felt tents left by its powerful beak.
The village of Yanı was a place of unparalleled peace. As I turned onto the village path from the main road, the sound of the stream greeted me with serenity. The village took its name from the Yalı Stream. At the village entrance, there were large white stones laid on the ground. Just beyond the stones was an old blacksmith with a large hearth on the left. The stone walls of the blacksmith had faded over the years, like an old memory. The hammer that once shaped countless metals was now cold, unused for many years. Only a few elders remembered when the village blacksmith had passed away.
The only stone structure in Yalı village was the blacksmith’s. All other buildings were yurts covered with felts. Despite the peace that filled me, a subtle sense of unease grew within. After two weeks, a new cry was heard in the village a new male child born to bear the responsibilities of his family, and for the Sheshe, a prey to hunt for survival.
When night fell, and darkness ruled, I quietly took a corner in the room. After the parents left the room with noise, a deep silence filled the space. My irregular breaths betrayed my tension. I couldn’t help but feel anxious. Suddenly, with the speed of an arrow, the felt was split in two. My heart raced. I could hardly breathe. The first thing I saw in the darkness was the Sheshe’s beak, extending into the yurt. It resembled a pickaxe but was so large it was unmistakable even in the dark. It was like a half moon. Following the beak, I saw its night
colored eyes shining in the dark. It couldn’t see me. It was solely focused on its prey. I couldn’t make out its body clearly in the dark, but I thought it resembled a chicken. It moved silently. It was only a few steps away from the infant.
At that moment, I remembered my duty. I tried to suppress all my fear and drew my sword. Holding the hilt tightly with both hands, I silently took two long steps to a position where I could strike the Sheshe. The Sheshe sensed the movement around it. As it started to turn its head towards me, I swung my sword at its body. Everything happened in an instant. My heart pounded as if it would burst from my chest. My breaths struggled to keep up. My entire body was drenched in sweat. The only sound I heard was the blood flowing from the Sheshe’s split body to the ground.
The villagers, drawn by the noise, flooded into the room. They tried to understand what this enormous bird was lying on the ground. They had never seen such a monster before. But it was my duty to prevent them from seeing this sight when dawn broke. Otherwise, they would see what awaited them in the dark, and new fears would arise. So, I put the Sheshe’s split body into a sack and left the village, telling the villagers it was just a wild bird.
I was happy then, but now, thinking back, I see how foolish I was. Killing a life to save another. Without care, without thought... The hope that the infant I saved would grow up to be a good person is my only consolation against the guilt of killing the Sheshe.
After my first hunt, I traveled to every corner of the Alpagut Continent. The only place I haven’t been is the Three Islands. I often wonder if my life will ever settle down. No one asks me to continue this duty anymore, but I can’t go against my teachings. I feel compelled to follow every rumor I hear.
In this time, not only hunters but also creatures seem to have diminished in the Alpagut Continent. Some have retreated to the southern Kaf Mountains, and others to the northern Dark Forests. New khanates are being established in these areas under the Great Khan’s command. They say the Bozok Khanate will be
established in the north and the Kutluk Khanate in the south.
The Great Khan has changed a lot since the Great War. He seems more tired and exhausted now. He no longer roams the Alpagut Continent as often as he used to. He doesn’t value hunters like us anymore. He must think there’s no need for us. I can’t decide whether what I dedicated my life to is necessary. Sometimes, despite all my efforts, I wonder about the futility of striving for certain things...
