Part 1 - thenewgreen

Part 2 - onehunna

Part 3 - AshShields

Part 4 - zebra2

Part 5 - humanodon

Part 6 - theadvancedapes

Please use the #storyclub tag and include the entire story thus far, plus your contribution. Also include the names of the potential participants in previous posts as a shout out and anyone else that has expressed interest. Also, to contribute, you must have been on Hubski for more than a week and have contributed comments/posts already :)

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As Yet Untitled by: Hubski

"Excuse me," she said, turned her chin to the ground and walked out of the room.

"Where is she going?" asked the chancellor.

The school was founded in 1777, the year they adopted the constitution, or so we've been told. But the constitution wouldn't apply to her and her family for another 159 years. In 1776, the caribou in her town outnumbered the people six to one. And until 1976, caribou were still outnumbering people. That is, until she was born. She was the first human to tip the scales.

"Fuck the caribou" her brother always said. "What do they do but shit, fuck and shit some more. If they weren't such damn good eatin' I'd say nuke 'em all."

But Ashley wouldn't dream of harming the caribou and harbored a silent guilt for being the one to supposedly outnumber them.

She had a special affection for the animal. When her grandfather died, he left her his walking stick, that according to him, was carved from the antler of the largest caribou to ever live. To her it looked like ivory, and she treasured it.

After he died, during the summer of her eighteenth year she took to carrying that walking stick everywhere she went, even in to the chambers of "The Administration."

The chancellor coughed, hoping it would trigger her to re-enter the proceedings.

Ashley stopped in her tracks. The chancellor cocked his head as she turned to face him, with a smirk of thinly veiled indignation plastered on his raggedy old face. "As you were explaining to the Council," the chancellor said, his voice booming through the large, empty hall of the Administration.

Ashley coughed and cleared her throat. Choked back all of the disgust she had for the man perched in the high stand in front of her. "The caribou are synonymous with this region," she said. A scoff from one of the Council members. "The tuktu herds have been grazing on the lichens and wild mushrooms since before our people settled these lands. They provide balance to our fragile territory, a balance we disrupted."

"They eat from my willows," said one of the Council members, a cross, snooty old woman in a ceremonial wig three sizes too big for her head. "They leave my poor willow trees patchy and half-bare. And all of the waste. Pests." She turned her head up in distaste at the thought of the horned beasts.

"Are you finished, my dear?" the chancellor said, his eyes locked on the gnarled walking stick in the fragile girl's arms. Ashley stood in silence. The taste in her mouth was a sour one. The Council was an immovable object, not like the caribou, who migrated and traveled the lands, never staying in one spot for long. They understood that movement was survival, and the Council, a solitary crumbling wall of bullheadedness seemed to be decaying before her eyes.

"Motion denied," the chancellor said without even waiting for a vote. He slammed a twisted wooden gavel down on the flat surface of the stand. "The annual Reaping will proceed as usual, at the start of the coming week, the Winter Solstice before the migration period."

Ashley looked around at the faces of the council, scrambling to find any trace of sorrow among them. But the decision was final, and it was final in their faces. It was them against her. And the caribou haven't exactly a say in the matter.

She spun on her feet once more, pacing out of the room, head down, deep in thought. She wasn't surprised - she had expected the Council to remain seated in their ways, but she had held an ounce of hope that she would be able to change something. She walked mindlessly, down the cold and lifeless halls, stopping only when she took her first step outside, into the glaring sun. She looked up and blinked twice, letting her eyes adjust, before continuing on her way.

This time she walked with direction, with drive. She knew where she was going, and she was going to get there, Council rules be damned. Puffs of red dust followed her footsteps as she strode down the wide, open streets. Passing through the central market, she paid no attention to the bustling people and general hubbub, caught in her thoughts as she was. Why did the Council make all the decisions anyhow? What gave them the right to decide something so big, so important, without any regard for anyone else's opinions? She knew it was pointless, in the end - the people would agree mindlessly with the ever-wise Council members if she made a fuss, and she would be ignored, or worse. They held no regard for the caribou, they didn't see them as she did - only as pests, creatures that eat from willow trees and make a mess, things to be controlled and got rid of, nothing more.

Eventually, she reached the gates of her small town, eager to leave -- then had a plan. She turned around and headed to the library.

Ashley sat in the dusty law section of the town library. Surely her best recourse against the Council could be found in the tomes of city ordinances and environmental protection acts. The library had long served as the hub for lawyers in San Caribino county and featured a large volume of legal works. If the solution was in the law, it would be here.

The rule of law was just. It was made to protect all people, even if they were caribou. The bastards in the council wanted to trample their rights like a herd of caribou passing though a vegetable garden. But no, the laws must protect them and Ashley would find the key.

As the hours passed her research only made her more disheartened. The relevant sections of the Wildlife Protection Act had been repealed. The Reaping appeared to be fully protected by the federal Violence Against Nature Protection Act, which had been signed into law during Nixon's fifth term as president.

She was exhausted and it was long since sundown, but still she persisted.

"There must be something here that can help the caribou," Ashley whimpered as she dozed off at the reading desk.

She sat there in a dreamless sleep until a tapping on her shoulder awoke her. A man in a dark overcoat stood behind her. A broad hat obscured his eyes. He shoved a 12" X 18" rigid brown envelope towards her.

"You might need this" he said.

As soon as Ashley's fingers closed on the envelope, the man released it, receding into the darkness between the desk lamps. Ashley called out for him to wait, but he was already gone. She considered the envelope for the first time. There were no postmarks, though it had clearly traveled a long way. There was no address, but the man was certain that the envelope was for her.

Inside the envelope was a hand-drawn map, finely done on some kind of hide. She'd never seen script like that before and yet, as she looked at it, she began to feel the slow creep of dread, as if some animal part of her recognized it and what the words meant. Below the script were the phases of the moon. Under the full moon, was a small human figure, standing on the crossed antlers of enormous caribou, arms raised and bearing a vessel.

Along with the map was an index card and a typewritten document, bearing the stamp of the Council. The index card read: "E: Map on Caribou Hide, c. ?" She quickly scanned the document. It was an old report, generated by the U.S. Geological Survey, of the iron mine that had been found close to the town. The town then was then just an outpost, built around a hermitage. What a Spanish monk had been doing out here all on his lonesome, no one could say. All that remained of him was a tattered robe worn by a pile of bones under a cairn, bearing a sign that read, "San Caribino".

Before the iron boom went bust, most of the natives had moved on as the caribou do, preferring the wide open spaces and the quiet that lives far from the ears of those that live in town. Even so, they still came to trade and all-too-often, nine months later, there's another mouth to feed and no one around to feed them. In the town, as on the tundra, those left behind usually go to the wolves.

"Aw shit, the kid!" Ashley stuffed everything back into the envelope, grabbed her walking stick and headed for the door.

"Hey Mrs. Bobrova, did you see a tall guy in a hat and a black coat come in here?" Mrs. Bobrova looked at Ashley over her bifocals.

"There is no man today. Only you, sleeping girl. Man is no good for you. Start with boy." And with that, Mrs. Bobrova returned to her magazine.

Slightly perturbed by Mrs. Bobrova's response, Ashley quickly left the library. Night was beginning to descend and she felt it was probably time to go home. But then something quite strange down the street caught the corner of her eye.

It appeared to be a small human figure. Not a baby. The figure had the build of a man. It was hard to make out any further detail because he was about one block away and it was getting dark. All Ashley could make out was a silhouetted figure in the pale moonlight.

Stranger still, the figure didn't move and appeared to be starring at her. Then slowly, the small figure raised his arms. He seemed to be holding a vessel.

Ashley reached into her bag to grab the hand-drawn map she received from the man in the dark overcoat. She glanced over the map to find the small human figure she had seen earlier and the outline looked identical.

When she looked up, the small man at the end of the street had disappeared. Fear crept over her.

"Something wrong?" A man with a quiet but deep voice was behind her.

Ashley was startled and turned around to see a small man, perhaps no more than 3 feet tall. His face was dark but she could tell he was old and had harsh features. He starred at her for a few seconds before reaching out his hand and stating firmly "Follow me."

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