The sun was high when the hunters returned to their village. It shined dappled light on the cluster of small huts and structures built of plant materials and earth, giving the impression they had sprouted from the earth instead of being built from it. The pervading scent of musk, dirt, and conifers in full growth only solidified this idea.
Fur-covered forms, both four and two-legged, moved around and through the structures. Many hunters and foragers had returned with their bounty, which they now prepared for use and storage.
Two of the newly arrived trio split away. The other had a stop to make. His wolf weaved through the crowd with a dexterity at odds with its bulk as it led its rider up to a long, wooden hut twice the size of those around it.
The rider slid off, touching the ground without a sound and without jostling the bundle that had been lulled to sleep by the rocking gait of his companion. Devoid of its rider, the wolf trotted away to find another willing to relieve it of its other burdens.
The man did not have to knock. Exercising her well-known, almost preternatural, ability to know when a visitor was at the threshold, the Elder Woman opened the door. She regarded him with a piercing look that took measure of him and his cargo within seconds. Her eyes narrowed, but she stepped back and waved him in.
He dipped down in thanks, accepted her invitation and stepped inside. Simple wooden furniture dotted the inside of the open interior. Long shelves, heavy with bone and leather containers, lined the back wall, while low tables stood covered with herbal ingredients that cast their pungent odor into the air.
The Elder had invited him in, but she did not offer him a seat.
“What is the meaning of this?” she asked in a scathing voice roughened with age.
The hunter cowed under her tone like a reprimanded child.
“We found this baby in the forest. We were going to leave it, as nature decrees, but the forest gave us a sign.”
“A sign? Describe this to me so I may know the consequences of your actions.”
And so he did, with every detail he could remember.
The Elder regarded the child in his arms with what he first guessed was alarm, but deciding such a reaction made no sense, instead figured on surprise and awe. Such an occurrence was something only told in stories, so it seemed a reasonable reaction.
“I see. You were right to bring this child to us. I shall keep it until Raval’s return, when we shall discuss what we will do with it.”
She reached into the tunic and slid her hands under the baby’s arms, pulling it up to lie against her shoulder. It was a motion that carried with it the necessary care, but no tenderness. This did not surprise the hunter. The Elder Woman was as well known for her knowledge of caring for others as her apathy toward their plights.
“You may go now. Tell Wika that we need some of Balin’s milk, for today at least.”
The man bowed in respect, then retreated out the door. He was glad to fulfill the Fokla’s wishes, but he was happier still to not have to care for the strange child. Something was amiss with it, and he would much rather the Wise Ones carry that burden. Theirs was the way of spirits, healing and knowledge. His was the way of the hunter and the artisans.
The woman put the man from her mind, focusing on the conundrum in front of her. She bent down, ignoring the twinge of protest from her lower back as she smoothed out the soft fur pelt that lined the floor in front of the fire pit. It was thick and warm, taken from a mottled brown bear that had grown in a full winter coat. The insulation it gave combined with the already warm early summer air would provide plenty of heat for the naked babe. At least until she decided it was worth the trouble of making it a tunic and blanket of its own.
After placing the still sleeping child on the rug, she settled into her own fur-covered chair a couple of feet away. She watched the child curiously as she waited for her partner to return. The village outside bustled, the sounds barely muffled through the plant and earth walls. It was far from quiet, yet the baby slept deep, oblivious to its surroundings. Perhaps it was already too weak to save. Yet if what the hunter said was true, that wouldn’t make sense. The Fokla would not deign to show themselves for someone already returning to the land. Not that the newborn didn’t already look halfway to the spirits anyway, with its pallid, stunted body.
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She was still musing, and the baby sleeping, when her partner walked in. Like hers, his hair was half silver. Also like her, his age and experience had garnered him the position of Elder.
The sudden increase in the volume of noise as he opened the door caused the baby to wake. It made a face, curled up tight, then stuck its limbs out straight and wailed.
“Oh? It seems I am right on time.” He chuckled as he came around, scooped up the baby, rug and all, and stuck a carved bone spout in its mouth.
The baby scrunched up its face, trying to cry around the bizarre thing sitting on its tongue.
“Now, now. It may not be what you want, but it’s what you got, little one. Drink up.” He tilted the small container, spilling a bit of the wolf’s milk down the baby’s throat.
It startled at the sudden influx, throwing its limbs out again as it gulped it down. It scrunched its face up more, but stopped crying, finding swallowing to be a better course of action.
The Elder Man plopped down into a chair, his eyes twinkling with good humor. “Look at that, Mara! She’s tiny, but she’s got a good appetite!”
Mara snorted. “Or you’re forcing it down the child and it will soon come right back up. Better you than me.”
“Bah, don’t be so negative, woman! She’ll need a lot of good food and good care to grow. She’s got plenty of catching up to do.”
“Care that won’t be ours to give, Raval. Remember that. Maybe no ones.”
Raval narrowed his eyes.
“What do you mean? The hunters told me the same story, every one. To let her die now would be a great insult to the Fokla, you know that as well as I do.”
“I do. I also know to take that which was given back would be just as bad. I only want us to remain cautious until we get an answer ourselves.”
“Hmm, a ritual then. Very well. As soon as I am done here, we shall prepare.”
“When you are done, join me.” Mara stood up, walking over to the shelves of herbal mixtures. Her eyes passed over each. “I will gather what’s needed from here and go ahead. I think we can both agree that doing this as soon as possible is best for all involved.”
The sun stood two-thirds of the way down the horizon by the time the Elders finished their preparations. Birds flitted through tree boughs. Their chirruping conversations paying no heed to the delicate, calculated work going on below them.
A patch of earth spread out before the Elders, cleared of leaves and detritus. In place of the usual bits of forest floor lay a circular pattern of twigs, leaves, and rocks. Tiny packages of herbs sat atop clumps of fluffy tinder, casting their sharp and clean aromas into the air. In the center of the circle stood a small tower of rocks. They had been carefully selected and placed so that the top formed a flat surface to hold an offering of fresh meat. Like a second offering, the newborn girl slept in an indent between the stone tower and outer circle. The Elders stood just outside of it, Raval checking the placement of each component.
Mara looked on with annoyance clear in her eyes. “You’ve checked three times now, Raval. I’ve already told you, it’s fine. We did it right the first time. I would think you would trust this by this point in our lives.”
He straightened, stepped back, and crossed his arms. “You can never be too careful. Doing something a thousand times only breeds complacency. If we want our answer, we need perfection.” He turned to give her a wry smile. “But, yes, I believe we did it right. I am ready to begin now.”
“Thank the spirits,” Mara mumbled as she took her place on the south side of the circle. Raval knelt down at the north point and they began.
Chanting rose through the canopy, low and rhythmic. The birds grew quiet as the wind itself took hold of the message, carrying it to the far reaches of the forest. Without breaking the litany, the Elders raised their hands in supplication, then bowed low, bringing their faces to the earth. As soon as their lips touched the ground, small fires erupted at each tinder clump, sending long, thin plumes of aromatic smoke high into the trees. The baby stirred, its young mind sensing something unusual happening around it. The meat at the center shriveled, turning to desiccation in an instant. That same instance, the plumes of smoke drove inward and down with a sucking sound. It collected with certainty above the child, who now stared with a calm curiosity at the spectacle. The Elders looked up and found their answer. A single symbol had coalesced from the smoke, hanging in the air like a silent commandment - life.
As if aware of their comprehension of the message, the word puffed out of existence. The tinder fires snuffed out like candles as the Elders looked on.
“Well, I’d say that was pretty clear,” Raval said with amusement.
“Yes, it was. While I do not understand it, neither will I deny it. Get the child. We will keep it tonight. Tomorrow, we will find it a mother.”
Mara went to work tearing down the ritual site. Raval wrapped the baby back in the furry rug, then did the same. Knowledge of advanced rituals was only for the Elders and those they chose as their apprentices. To view one without consent was taboo, as was trying to learn them from the remains. Breaking a taboo meant being cast out of the tribe. It was a fate very few would dare risk bringing on to themselves. Despite this, the Elders knew it was their responsibility to remove such temptations when possible.
The site dismantled, they made their way back to the village to what they both knew was going to be a long night.