It was sight they all needed desperately. The sight of a child, their only child, happy and relaxing in the simple joy of their winter holiday. Night of the Burning Stars, the last day in a week long festival to honor the Age of Death and Winter, Eruta, was a holiday they looked forward to every winter. While it was hardly their largest or favorite holiday (that belonged to the Coming of the Seasons to honor Natur in Spring), there was a certain joy about it. To most outsiders, it was seen as a morbid holiday-a week long fast to experience and remember the pain that death could bring but then a reward of feast, dance and gifts to celebrate the strength a clan gave you to endure it at the end of the long trial.
Nothing provided a better proof of it than seeing a cub screech over the carved pipes or skates that his clan had found or made. To see him smile in delight and then engage in rare physical affection among their clan, reserved for these private days. It was a much needed balm to hurt spirits and the adults relished in it, gathered about and lingered in the main hall for far longer than they normally would have.
The adults exchanged some gifts, as they always did, but all eyes had been on Buddi the whole morning. He was adjusting fairly well, given the circumstances. He had his periods of sadness, of depression, but especially around Ursa, they had seen him force a smile, force the laugh, force the cheery bubbly innocence that they all knew had gone up in the same smoke that claimed their home.
No one had been sure how this year was going to feel. It was their first without the woods, their first in Ursalia. When Ursa had disappeared midway through the week, stating she had "something to take care of," it had sent a ripple of fear and distress through the whole clan. Oh, what a relief it had been when she'd returned last night and they had carried on with their traditional dances, their story telling just as if the woods were still surrounding them.
Buddi turned from his current load of presents, gazing upon his leader and mother with sharp interest in his eyes. Oh, he loved Night of the Burning Stars...or at least he used to-the dances were always great, especially the 'endurance dance.' To see one of his clan strip off their shoes and dance over barely lit coals without a lick of pain reflected on their faces...
Well, perhaps he still loved the holiday but the Dance of Endurance had lost its charm.
Supposedly, once he passed his Test of Bearhood, he could be chosen to do that and it used to thrill him, to imagine himself doing that. To stand before his clan with the soft, drum beats dictating his foot sweeps over the barely lit coals. Oh, he used to practice dance in the woods over rocks and pine needles, crying to Ursa "Look, Fyca! I'll be really good when I getta dance the Fires! Doncha think?" Oh, she had just smiled, folded her arms, shook her head with a laugh before running to join him, tossing him around in a silly, wild circle. She used to laugh so much, smile so much.
Now everything was different. She had smiled...well, he could count on one hand the number of times she had smiled since they had moved into Ursalia. And even then, it wasn't a full smile; it didn't reach her eyes. He could recall a laugh from her even less and he had yet to hear a real one, one that wasn't weighed down and it had worsened as the holidays neared. As they were forced to make changes, amend, and move forward. He tried to keep things as calm as he could, to show her that while it had been a horrible thing they had survived, they had survived it. He desired to show her that not only had they survived but HE had surived, with no damage at that!
It was a lie, a comforting lie but a lie all the same. Now, as much as he tried to recapture the wonderful feelings of strength that the Dance of Endurance used to spark in him, the spark was gone. For all the warmth, security and need that fire could provide for them, he found his heart still caught at the sight of it, the sound of it, the smell of it. His mind replayed screams, shouts of distress as his heart would repeat the loss of home, of kin, of family.
Their first night in Ursalia, he realized, first hand, how deep his fear of it went. The cold had been fierce, with the northern mountains not helping at keeping off the chill of autumn. He had crept around the large unfamiliar halls, helping his clan dig out blankets and any additional warmth. The old fireplace in the main greeting hall had quickly been commandeered for a fire.
The smells were so crisp, so familiar and not in a good way. Buddi lingered in the doorway, watching his clan gather around the large fireplace, feeding the blaze until it grew, until it sent a wave of warmth through the whole,empty feeling and cold room. His family quickly ushered to surround it, seeking to thaw out their half frozen fingers and toes but Buddi made no move to join them. Ursa had left them to get the flame started, intent on seeking out any potential weapons for protection. Shelter was the key component they needed; protection was another. The eleven year old tried to focus his mind on the practical use of the fire. They needed to warm up, they needed to get dry from their trudge through snow and ice of the Northern Mountains. Heat equaled survival. That was one of the first things he had learned. It was the first thing you did in a survival situation-get out of the elements, make shelter. They had shelter so now the next logical step was fire. He didn't want anything to do with it. "Buddi," the tone of Grubbi's voice was firm, leaving no room for argument, though you could still make out the weariness in it, "Come here and warm up. You're as soaked to the bone as the rest of us." The cub shook his head. He understood the logic, he understood it well. But his mind would not calm down the images. They would not erase the screams, they would not undo the deaths. He could still smell the burning fur, the scent of flesh charred to black. He could still see Ozzi, staring up at him until his injuries and the smoke made the eyes turn blank and see no more. Nope. He couldn't do it. Turning, he fled the room, ignoring the various calls after him. It was a foolish endeavor. Where exactly did he plan to go? What did he plan to do? He couldn't run from heat forever and he was cold. He knew, logically, that this was going to do absolutely nothing but get him in trouble and irritate his family. They had enough on their plates without dealing with a bratty little cub. All the same, he couldn't go back, not yet. Rounding the hall, he padded down the empty stone walls. Hard, uninviting. Not a thing like the branches of the trees, or the homey feeling of the huts. He knew Ursa had said they were seeking out some weapon to give them their woods back but what if there wasn't anything to go back to? No animals, no trees, no plants, no clean flowing rivers? His vision clouded with tears and he shook his head rapidly from side to side, rounding another corner and slamming, firmly, into someone coming back towards the main hall. "Buddi!" Looking up, he rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, his heart speeding up and stopping seemingly all in the same moment. He knows that voice though, that gruff tone. "Sorry, Ursa. Can I help?" She raised a brow, knowingly, "What are you doing wandering around by yourself, especially in an old rickety city like this? We haven't explored it enough to know where it's falling apart and where it's stable." They had not just settled on the main hall due to the fireplace but because it had been kept the most intact; that ol' caretaker must use it the most. Ursa had yet to locate a weapons' room though she was certain there was one but the rooms and halls she had passed had been mostly run down, coated in dust and rotten with time. "Could ask you the same thing," he accused, not answering her. "I wanted to come help you." He repeated himself, finding an odd solance in that statement, as untrue as it was. He hadn't been searching for her in the least but now that he had found her, he was relieved that he had. She eyed him, up and down a long moment, "Why are you still soaking wet?" Pouting, he replied, "I dried off with the towels we found like you said." he protested. "My clothes aren't that wet." Ursa eyed him, folded her arms, "You didn't go warm up by the fire, did you?" He shook his head "Don't need to." Ursa groaned aloud "Don't get stubborn with me-" "You're one to talk-" he began but she interrupted. "Buddi, I won't have you getting sick," she snarled, grasping his arm tightly, "The snow has us all wet and tired-" "You didn't dry off," he protested, trying to wretch his arm from her grip, "Some example you're settin'..." "Who said I wasn't going to?" she inquired simply. "I was on my way back to set up perimeters and do that. You need to do it more than I do. You're younger than the rest of us; we won't be taking chances with you. Grubbi will probanly be fit to be tied already." "NO!" His protest came out oddly shrill and frantic, enough that Ursa slammed on her brakes and stared at him. "No, no, Ursa. I'll give you my clothes to dry out and I'll bundle up or something but I don't need the fire. Don't _want_ it." Realization settled in the Barbic leader's eyes after a long moment and they softened considerably. She shifted and knelt, moving her hands from her son's arm to his shoulders, "Buddi, the fire won't hurt you here." He shook his head frantically, back and forth rapidly, "No." He insisted again. "It killed my friends, it took my home. I'm not going near it." he pulled back from her, "No, I won't! I won't!" The Barbic female was quiet, silent before pulling her son tight into her chest where he dug his hands into tight fists on her tunic. "I don't want it, I don't want it. I don't want it." Ursa spoke gently, "Shh. You're fine, Buddi. No more fire, you're safe." "Don't want it..."
The cub shifted his eyes to her. She was standing quietly in the doorway, watching. Her eyes, ever watchful, not like that bright light he grew up watching, wanting to imitate. No smile, no laughing. Just simple pain slowly being covered but not yet recovered. She had taken the gifts given to her graciously (and he saw with pleasure that she had put on the leather wrist guards that he had made her) but she still seemed all leader, all commander, not his mother.
A call from the kitchen was all it took for all the members of the clan to scramble to their feet. After a week long fast, with nothing but water, Grubbi had prepared them all the best. Not the same as cooking in the woods but oh, did it smell wonderful. Buddi slid his gifts to the side a bit before rushing after his family towards all those wonderful smelling treats!
A strong hand on his shoulder stopped him and he turned, baffled.
"Here."
Ursa's statement was simple, direct and she handed a small box out to him. He had already investigated his other presents and was more than ready for the great smelling foods in the next room! However, Ursa had waited until the others had dispersed a bit to approach him. That was easy to read. She wanted this to be more private. Buddi quickly responded by taking the box and slipping with her out into the hallway, away from the others, despite the growling of his stomach.
"Another one, Ursa?" he inquired. "I think you and the others gave me plenty." He smiled at her, "Not that I'm complaining though."
The Barbic leader just leaned against the wall, "Didn't think you would. But I wanted this one to be last."
"And private?" he inquired.
She nodded without another word.
Buddi eyed her but was quick to unpack the box, opening the lid to reveal a simple tan colored kernel...no, a seed. He gently pulled it out of the inside, turning it over in his palm. He recognized it; too well known not to. Still, he didn't quite believe it. Lifting his face, he met hers with a shocked expression, "Ursa, is this..."
She nodded "Most of them burned, went up in smoke. But when I went back to salvage what I could, I found one that was untouched." She sighed, "I go back every so often, to see what I can save, to see what else I can do..." She hardened her voice, trying to keep the emotion from it. "It'll be hard to grow it here, given it's so ridiculously hot in the summers compared to the woods but there's a tree inside there." She gave her son a half smile, a saddened one. "The trees were your friends. If anyone of us can convince that tree to come out of that seed, it'll be you."
Buddi stared at the seed in his hand. The trees of Barbic Woods had been huge but they grew fairly fast, at least as far as trees went. He remembered seeing one planted when he was three and when the woods fell eight years later, it had been nearly full grown and matured. It was an odd feeling, staring at this little seed. The trees, his childhood friends, scarred and burned husks but yet here was one. A final one. Not yet born but still a tree.
Buddi clutched it tightly in his fist before throwing both arms around Ursa in a bone crushing hug, "Bigato, Fyca! Bigato!"
Ursa just smiled. And it shone out from her eyes.