The wind lashed the grass, driving the rain before it. Lightning flashed, giving momentary light to the night-shrouded Plains. Pushing a wet strand of blonde hair out of her eyes, a young girl crouched, dressed in form-fitting leathers and armed with only a knife. The young Plainswoman was hunting a larclet, one of the herbivores that roamed the Plains. She had picked up its trail earlier that day, and she felt that she was close. The rain and wind made it difficult for her to keep the trail, but it also kept her quarry from sensing her and bolting.
Creeping through the wet grass, the young woman blinked the rain out of her violet eyes as she started down a slight slope, looking for the larclet. She almost didn't see it as she started down the hill. One more step and she would have stepped on the beast's tail. She froze, one foot hovering off the ground. Moving ever so slowly, she withdrew the offending foot and settled back, taking every care not to rouse the creature. If her mission was to kill the larclet, she would have finished it immediately. However, part of her objective was to keep the beast alive. Her goal was one of its crest feathers. The feathers were peculiar in that they were shed every year, but those shed feathers were dull and colorless. Only when they were cut from a living larclet and preserved did they retain their vibrant colors. Used for years as a rite of passage for young nomads, this was her objective this night.
The sleeping larclet snorted and shifted as a rumble of thunder rolled over the plains. The young Plainswoman froze, only relaxing when the beast quieted again. Moving inches at a time, the young woman crept closer, knife in hand. Reaching the beast's head, she watched the crest feathers move up and down with the breathing of the creature. She waited, timing the breaths. Once she had the pattern down, she struck. Moving so fast the knife was almost a blur, she sliced not one, but three feathers from the beast's crest. Blessing her good fortune, she caught the feathers in her left hand and tucked them into her belt pouch as she retreated silently up the hill.
Safely behind the hill, she let out a breath and ran a hand through her hair to shake out some of the water. Checking to make sure her prize was secure, she started off for home in an easy, ground-eating lope. With luck, she hoped to be home by dawn.
When she was still several hours away, the storm broke abruptly, revealing the diamond-flecked night sky. The constellations glittered brightly, but now as bright as the constellation that she had heard called Infinity. A wind from the east swirled around the young Plainswoman, and later she would swear she heard a voice on the wind, a female voice whispering "Find me."
She blinked. The eastern sky had begun to lighten while she had been stargazing. Shaking her head, she turned and continued her trek home. A wisp of smoke hanging in the still morning air told her she was close. Topping the last crest, she saw the village of Que-Shu laid out before her. The sun was just peeking over the mountains to the east as she arrived in the center of the village.
A small fire burned, tended by a young boy. This was the center of the village. This fire was always tended and never allowed to go out. When the village moved, the fire came with them. If the rains came, the fire was moved inside a special tiny hunt built for that purpose. The boy looked up at the sound of the young woman's footsteps. He smiled at her. "Back already sister?"
She smiled back and nodded, the ruled of the rite not allowing her to respond verbally. One of the boy's jobs was to summon the elders, but this day he didn't have to. They emerged from their huts with a startling synchrosity and assembled in front of her. The chieftain stood in the center, flanked by the shaman of the tribe on his left and his warleader on his right. It was the warleader who spoke first. "Back so soon little one? Give up already?" he sneered at her. Rockbiter was his name, and he led the faction that wanted to keep women and girls from participating in this rite. The young woman ignored him, but the slight flush of her cheeks belied her calm demeanor. Following the guidelines to the letter she turned to the shaman.
"O Wise One, I have returned triumphant."
The shaman walked towards her and held out his hand. His dark brown eyes twinkled as she laid one vibrant feather in his palm. The shaman, Silverwind, had argued for her to be able to partake in this rite of the Hunt. Returning to the side of the chief, Silverwind presented the feather to Arrowthorn, Chieftain of the Que-shu. Taking the feather, Arrowthorn turned it over in his hand. Nodding he returned the feather to Silverwind. Rockbiter's face grew dark as the Shaman began to work the spell that would preserve the feather.
"But she is female!" he sputtered. "I cannot believe she captured a feather so quickly. She must have cheated somehow!"
Freed from the strictures of the ritual, the young woman smiled at Rockbiter. "I did not capture one feather, Warleader," she said as she reached into her belt pouch. "I retrieved three."
Silverwind had stopped his preparation when Rockbiter had spoken. Now he looked with approval and surprise at the young woman as she walked towards him, holding out the other two feathers for his approval. He took them gingerly as Rockbiter fumed with rage.
"No, I won't allow it!" he shouted as he started towards Silverwind and the young woman. He didn't get more than a step before the large hand of Arrowthorn stopped him. The chieftain spoke for the first time that morning.
"She has followed all the precepts. There is nothing you can do."
Rockbiter's face went purple, but he held his tongue. He knew better than to argue with Arrowthorn.
Silverwind favored the young woman with a smile before he began his casting again. As he chanted the arcane syllables, the three feathers began to glow with power. As Silverwing's voice grew, so did the glow around the feathers. When he reached the crescendo, the three feathers flared brightly for a moment. Bowing, Silverwind offered the feathers to Arrowthron
"Come here young one." He motioned for the young woman to come to him. She complied, kneeling at his feet. "Tell me, what did you see?"
"I saw the stars, Chieftain."
He smiled and turned to Silverwing. "And what say you, Wise One?"
"She arrived on the wings of the dawn, Cheiftain."
Arrowthoorn reached down and placed his hands on her shoulders. Applying gentle pressure, he indicated she should rise. "Stand and welcome, Starwing of the Que-Shu."