Carabao, the Barbarian

The Burden of Expectations

The strongest barbarian of his generation, Carabao was the pride of the Wetfoot Clan. A week away from this eighteenth birthday, the whole swamp wondered which kin he would choose to bond with. There was little doubt that he would grow to be the tribe's leader in a few decades. He had demonstrated stellar proficiency in both strength and strategy trials, the pillars of admiration and respect in all the warring tribes from the Great Peaks to the Salty Islands. The question still remaining was which kind of leader he would be. A question likely to be answered by his kin of choice.

Any respectable barbarian leader had a kin able to boosted combat abilities. Aggressive and offensive kins were the preferred kind in most clans. The Wetfoot leaders favored defensive or strategic kins. The swamp where they lived was a natural barrier against offensive clans, and when used well, it proved to be more impenetrable than the mountains themselves.

"Perhaps it's time for offense. Take down the rusties," said Sanda, Carabao's mother, one night while discussing his potential kin. The rusties, as she called them, were the Dumpblade Clan, the other swamp-dwelling barbarian group.

"Total control over the Stagnant! Can you imagine it?" added Invik, his little sister.

He had imagined it. Every child had heard the stories of when the Stagnant Clans were united and ruled over all the warring tribes. That had been centuries ago, though.

Sanda was a Wetfoot warrior, and her advice was often countered by Carabao's father, Anker. He was the youngest son of the current clan's leader, Harburgeon.

"Defense has served us well. We detain the largest part of the swamp and have wide access to hunting grounds beyond. Why change what is working?"

Harburgeon's kin was a giant water constrictor—a strategist, patient, never striking at the wrong time. His family came from a long line of strategists, all of whom had serpent-like kins, and he held an honorable position among the Wetfoot.

"Harburgeon himself has suggested that perhaps it might be time for change," countered his mother.

He had, in fact, said something to that effect a few times at recent clan festivals and family gatherings. Their shaman, Mercel, had also sensed a shift in the spiritual world overlaid atop the Kinners.

"They are talking about the next leadership... power shifting from our family's hands to Iocomi within a few years. We will need stability by the time Carab comes into power, with power leaving the family's hands for a generation."

Carabao watched the discussion unfold. Choosing his kin weighed on him, along with the mounting pressure of becoming a leader and restoring his family's honor. He did not know if he could do that. Iocomi and his fire scorpion kin were going to bring a different kind of leadership to the tribe. He had risen to that position after Carabao's uncle, Marttly, was expelled from the tribe for being homosexual, no matter how strong he was, no matter his giant earth alligator kin. He was no match for Harburgeon's punishment. Exiled. Carabao was only six when that happened; he did not understand why it had to be that way. Marttly was his favorite uncle. Exiled. His wife and children were allowed to stay, with a loss of status. Shunned. Carabao barely saw his cousins after that.

He left the cabin while his parents discussed his kin prospects and the clan's future. It was all too heavy for him.

Change. What had Harburgeon meant by change? Not even Harburgeon knew the answer. He invited Carabao for a private meeting the day after his parents' discussion. He, too, was interested in influencing Carabao's choice.

"A kin will bring you not only new, unlimited abilities but also, and most importantly, your first quest. It will set your destiny in motion. Destiny is the choices we make, Carabao. The choices you make will determine whether you return to the Stagnant to be a clan leader. Everyone treats this as a certainty. It is not. Our history is full of examples of leaders who were not the brightest or strongest of their generation. Potential doesn't always translate into effect."

"I know, grandfather. I want to make the best choice, but it is not clear."

"It is. Or rather, it will be when you manage to remove the veils from your eyes. The right choice is so clear that it nearly blinds me."

"Then tell me."

"I cannot, lest it be spoiled. Be still. Be calm. Go for a long walk alone in the days before your birthday. Dwell in your thoughts."

Why couldn't he just say it? This conversation was not doing anything to ease his fears and anxieties.

"Mercel and I have been sensing change for a while now," his grandfather added after his silence. "To thrive in a changing world, you cannot cling to harsh truths and beliefs. Your best chance is to hold to what is true to you, to believe in yourself and in your choices. Let your heart be your compass, not our expectations."

Carabao had never done that. He had always performed to others' expectations. He was strong because he trained with his mother. He was smart because he studied with his father. He was the tribe's golden son because he never let anyone down.

"Thank you," he answered when he wanted to curse his grandfather for not being helpful at all. "I will try to spend time alone thinking over the next few days."

"Good. Do you have any questions for me before you leave?"

"How is it, to be a leader?"

"I will answer truthfully, because this is the path you are being set on. I trust you won't share my words outside this cabin. Being a leader... it's hard. A collection of mistakes that hurt my very soul, for the sake of the clan, of continuity."

Carabao had never seen such fragility in this large, imposing man. It touched him. If anything, it almost proved he could not do it.

"What about being true to yourself?"

"I'm from a different generation. That is what you will need in the times to come, in these times of change."

"Thank you, grandfather, for being honest."

"You are welcome. Anything else?"

"Do you miss him? Uncle Marttly."

"Every day."

His grandfather looked old for the first time. Carabao hugged him. It was the first time he had hugged his grandfather, who hugged him back.

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