Heir of Scars I: Parts 1-8 (36 page)

“The Hunter was enchanted by the creature’s beauty, strange though it was, and he hesitated to draw aim. But he was hungry, and he was impatient, and he was unable to find anything else to bring to his tribe, except for the snakes which they were forbidden to eat. He thought, since the wolf did not run, that she was ready to die. He even thought to ask the wolf this, so intelligent did she seem, but she did not answer his words.

“The Hunter drew his bow, and held it there, half hoping the animal would run, that his arrow would go astray. But the wolf only stood, and watched him, and waited. The Hunter released his arrow, and the animal fell beside the pool, but she did not die. Instead, she changed into a beautiful young woman, as pale as the wolf, with long hair the color of the moon, and eyes the color of the water. But she still bore the wound, and the arrow, and her blood drained into the pool beside her.

“The Hunter grew afraid then, and full of sorrow, and nearly ran from the clearing, but then the woman spoke to him, and though he could not understand her words, he still knew what they must mean, and he overcame his fear, his guilt, and his weakness, and he took her up and carried her back to the tribe.

“When he appeared at the camp with the wounded woman, the elders understood what had happened, and they held council. The Kochushegiya of the tribe had dreamed of this, he said, and the Spirit Helpers had told him that if the White Wolf Woman died, the women of the tribe would no longer bear children. She must be healed, they said, and only the one who had wounded her might also heal her.

“And so the Hunter took White Wolf Woman into his home, and he removed his arrow, and he cleaned her wound, and he brought her food to eat and medicine to calm her fever. Despite this, she did not seem to heal, and her wound continued to bleed for five days, so that the hunter feared for her life, and for the life of his tribe. In that time, he came to love her, though he could not even understand her words, nor did she seem to understand his.

“Finally, the Hunter took his arrow, the one which had wounded her, and he made a cut in his own flesh, and he pressed his wound to hers, so that she might share his life, and be healed. And her wound closed as quickly as it had been made, and they then knew each others’ words.

“’I do not understand,’ he said to her. ‘Why did you not run from me?’

“’I did run from you,’ she said. ‘For three nights I ran from you, for I was afraid of you. For three nights, I asked my friends, the serpents, to protect me, for I knew you would not eat them. And for three days, I slept within a dark cave, away from the sun which might reveal me to you.’

“’But, by the water,’ the Hunter said. ‘You stood in the full light of the moon, and you did not answer me when I asked if you wished to die. And when I drew my bow, you did not run.’

“’I was no longer afraid of you,’ White Wolf Woman answered.

“’But, why?’ the Hunter asked.

“’Because I knew that you must eat, and I knew that, if it would not be me, it would be some other animal. So I offered myself to you, so that another might have life, and I was no longer afraid.’”

“And so the Hunter asked for her forgiveness, and he asked her to marry him.

“’I forgive you,’ White Wolf Woman said. ‘But if I marry you, I will have to leave you for five days each month, when the moon is full, for I must become a wolf again, and sleep within a cave, alone.

“The Hunter agreed. And ever since, the women of the tribe have bled for five days at each moon, and have separated themselves, in remembrance of White Wolf Woman.”

“Si Chushegi suwe Chahi,” Imani answered as Shísha fell silent. Imani had not understood the words, but of course knew the story in her own tongue.

Probably from her own Moon Ceremony,
Adria thought.

“Si Chushegi suwe Chahi,” Shísha repeated. “It is True.”

Other women joined in the agreement, and Adria imagined them nodding wisely, though still there was no light to warm their faces.

“Likshochuhalene,” Shísha said, again using Adria’s formal name. “This place, and this part of the Ceremony, is called the Hopawecheteya, the Sweat Lodge. We use it to purify ourselves. When women have their Moon, they go to the Moon Lodge, but they visit this lodge first. It is one of our Seven Ceremonies, and always happens to prepare for any others. This first time, it may be very difficult for you, so if you feel too unwell, you must tell me. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Adria answered. She had heard of this from Preinon, and knew something of what to expect.

“Imani dressed you, so I know you wear nothing made of metal. When you enter the Hopawecheteya, always remove any metal first, and leave it outside. It is unwelcome.”

“Yes, Lichushegi.”

Such ceremonies often have odd requirements
, Adria thought. The Sisterhood had many such restrictions where clothing and jewelry were concerned. 
Perhaps they consider metal unnatural somehow
, Adria mused. 
Because it is treated with fire?

“The Moon and the Sun were born of the Sky, one in the day, and one in the night,” Shísha said. “They did not know each other at first, though they followed each other across the world, between the Earth and the Sky.

The Sun was a Hunter, and shone brighter, for he always walked forward, while the Moon danced about, sometimes full of face, sometimes looking away, and hidden against the dark Sky, as if she sought something, or else thought to evade the Sun.

“And so the Sun went to the Sky, and asked it to find a way to trap the Moon for him. The Sky agreed, and took a little of the Sun’s light, and wove a great web across the night, and where these strands met, points of light appeared, like drops of dew or Holy Beads.

“And the Moon danced through her new raiment, and though she was not trapped, she slowed just a little, so that when the Sun next came, he saw her face, and loved her. The Moon felt the heat of the Sun, and though she was afraid, she did not now run from him, but stayed awhile, and when next she appeared to the Sky, alone, she glowed red with the memory of him.”

Soon after her story, Shísha opened the flap of the door, and Adria had to squint her eyes against the light from without. Shísha spoke to someone through the opening, and Adria could see the legs of a young man, who lifted four stones from the fire with the scorched antlers and passed them into the lodge, one at a time. He dropped one at each side of the pit in the center, one for each direction, and then Shísha closed the flap again, and the stones glowed in the darkness.

To Adria’s surprise, they produced a good deal of heat, undulating from the bright orange stones and filling the small tented lodge in moments. They even gave a little light, and Adria could see Shísha lean forward and place a leaf of some sort on one of the stones, and it burst into flame. It gave off a sharp, pungent smell, but once this subsided a little, the scent was not unpleasant.

Next, with a clay ladle, Shísha poured water on the stones, and they sizzled and steamed, making the heat even more oppressive.

For a few minutes they sat quietly, and Adria adjusted to the heat. It was bearable, but nonetheless Adria felt her body begin working to cool itself. Her breath grew shallow, her skin began to sweat, and her eyes closed.

She was glad, at last, that she was wearing almost no clothing. Even her thin loincloth soon clung to her uncomfortably. She had never experienced such heat, and she realized, then, why metal was not allowed in the ceremony.

Not because it is unnatural,
she smiled.
But because it would simply grow so hot that it would burn the skin.

“We will sing songs now,” Shísha told Adria as the glow of the stones faded, though the heat from them did not. “Songs to our ancestors, in our tongue. The exact words are not important. Sing as you will, and know that we ask all your relations for guidance, the mothers of your mother, through the generations, and even the White Wolf Woman herself, who is said to be the Holy Mother of all of us.”

As the glow of the stones subsided again to leave them in darkness, Shísha began to sing, slowly and low at first, but then louder, a short refrain which was taken up by Imani, and at last by Adria herself, as best she could.

Zho homilisa Shóli haipe lobe,

Tegoni wazho waline méli koali wani tagli.

Si, Imaya zho tála hechaye.

Zho Lemaskiya Chatechoku koali haipe miletewe.

I stand before you,

As a child becoming a woman.

Mothers, look at me...

I am wounded by the Seasons of the Moon.

Adria learned the sounds well enough after a few repetitions, and even felt she had managed most of the words. Some were still difficult for her tongue to wrap around, containing sounds never made in Aeman.

The melody itself was strange, unlike the songs which were often sung around the camp in the evenings or the mornings. It was much simpler, almost not a song at all, and its pitch and intensity varied from one refrain to the next.

It feels... old,
 Adria realized, even as Shísha brought the song to a low and quiet end.

The hide was pulled aside from the doorway again. In came more heated stones, and Adria counted ten more.

Fourteen
, Adria thought.
One for each year of my life. And if these are as hot as the first four, maybe enough to end it…
 She smiled to herself in the near-darkness as the flap was closed again. 
If these are the gifts of the Sun, I think he means to kill me, instead of simply trap me.

There were more leaves, more ladles of water, and a heat which Adria would have thought strong enough to make an oven, which reminded her how long she had gone without food.

I hope they don’t plan to cook me, and this is not just some strange fairy story they’ll tell to future children. How the White Wolf Girl fed a whole tribe for a year.

She grew now very dizzy, and her entire body seemed to sweat continuously, so that the ground was soaked beneath and around her.

Shísha and Imani began to sing again, and then the rest, for what seemed hours, all different but similar songs, one after the other, and Adria tried to join them, but more and more, in the oppressive heat, she could not seem to find the strength.

Adria scooted back a little, to where she had first been sitting, for the heat was gradually pulling her shoulders down, until, at last, her forehead touched the earth, and it felt to her as cool as the river’s water had that morning. It might even have been ice.

She could breathe a little better, for the air was thinner there, but still, as the women made their way through several more songs with a strength Adria would have thought impossible, she felt as if her life was draining from her body, along with her blood and sweat.

Adria might very well have crawled to the opening and left, and given up her womanhood, but she no longer had the strength. More than once she nearly cried out for Shísha to open the flap of the doorway, to let in just one pure breath of cool air.

No
, she demanded of herself.
These people are strong, and the Runners are the strongest among them. If I am to join them, as a woman and a Hunter, I must be as strong. If this is the sacrifice they demand, I will make it.

She took a long breath, and then she lifted her head, and Adria opened her eyes and began to sing, nonsense words, with what little voice she could muster. There was a noise, then, all around her, like a strange insect, or a rattlesnake, and it moved swiftly. Small lights flashed in the air about her, crackling as if sparks from a fire, but strange in color... purest blues and whites.

The women about her sang out all the louder, and Adria believed for a moment that she could understand them. But just as quickly, the impression left her, and soon their music, and the strange display around her, faded.

Silence.

After some time of nothing more than the measured breath of all the women, Shísha spoke again. “Adria Likshochuhalene, we have awakened your ancestors with our songs. The Spirit Helpers who have watched over you since before your birth have come, to bring their message to you, and to take your prayers up among the stars. You must pray guidance and ask for wisdom.”

Adria did not know what to say. Although she had muttered along with the prayers of the Aesidhe before, she had never been expected to give one of her own. She had not prayed aloud since she had left home, and these had only been the proscribed ritual prayers of the Sisterhood.

I remember those, word for word, but…
 they would seem so wrong here
…
 the very teachings of those who would destroy these People.

But Shísha said more. “Do not be afraid of the words you must use, Lilene. It is only important that they be spoken from the heart.”

“I understand,” Adria said. “But… forgive me, Holy Mother… to whom should I pray?”

“There are as many gods and ancestors as stars, but all are part of the One Great Spirit. All gods, all people, all animals and all that grows — all life is one, for all things live, from the stones of the earth to the stars of the sky, and all are part of the Spirit.

“This is why our ancestors still walk with us, for we are One Spirit. We hunt and eat the bodies of animals, and eat the fruit, and leaf, and root of plants, for we are all One Spirit. And when we die, our bodies are claimed by the lowest forms of life, and nourish the earth in turn, for we are all One Spirit.

“Pray to someone nearer the stars, to those who have walked the paths that led to your birth. You don’t have to remember the name or the face of your fathers and your mothers to love them. You do not have to speak their tongue. Pray to your mother, and her mother, and to all the mothers whose blood has become yours.”

And so Adria took a long breath, and began to pray.

“Mother,” and at once, to her astonishment, she began to cry, without tears, for the water of her body had long been used to wash and cool her skin. “Mother, I don’t remember you, and you have been kept secret from me all my life, by those who hide truth from one another if it gives them power over another.”