PROLOGUE

"Your children are beautiful, Meda. And what luck, twins! A boy and a girl."

"Yes," The whisper was nearly nonexistent, brilliant honey eyes transfixed upon the two elkskin bundles within her strong, tanned arms. It seemed strange; for nine months she had known, had even seen their little pictures on the ultrasound. At night, she would feel their constant somersaults and dream hazy visions of their future.

"What will you name them?" She was pulled from her thoughts now, reluctantly drawing her eyes upward to stare at the back of her midwife. Middle-aged, stout, and inconceivably nice, the older woman rinsed her hands and tools of the afterbirth in a washbasin nearby. The sound of the running water soothed the new mother's jumbled thoughts, finally feeling the fatigue of labor creep into her drooping eyelids. The visions from her dreams now returned to her, seeping into her consciousness.

The Crow. The Fox.

The sky, literally split into an even day and night at it's highest point. The sun and moon sat hazily across from each other, shedding light onto the serene forest that surrounded them.

She knelt before the beasts, hands folded neatly, unmoving. A slight breeze caught strands of ruddy black hair, waving them across her face lightly. The air smelled sweetly of pine needles after a rainstorm, fresh and pungent. The winds of change blow in our favor, she deduced automatically, noticing the warm caress it left over her skin. Nothing within her dreams went unnoticed, as each detail was important; as a shamaness, her dreams were riddled with meaning and foreshadowing. Her people needed her ever-vigilant.

Crow, feathers glittering with the ethereal light of day, took short steps towards her and dropped something from it's long beak. His perpetual black eyes never once left her own, and in them she could see knowledge, truth. Trust washed over her, a silent conversation between them as she grasped the object within her nimble, worn fingers.

Bear claw. Protection. Strength. Will.

She smiled, a sign of thanks; he then spread his wings wide, and with one graceful swoop, found himself within the air. Meda marveled at his grace as he exited the trees, and out into clear blue sky. A single caw named his exit, and graciously, she stuck the claw in her pocket.

While ever weary of Fox, Meda now turned to him. His demeanor was good-natured, genuine, and the medicine woman could see it in his intelligent hazel eyes. In the night, his red pelt now seemed the color of blood, and within his irises lay a ring of the same hue. Again, a warm smile crossed her plump lips. Fox stepped forward, surprising her with a soft nudge of his nose to her belly, far more friendly than his bird counterpart. He knows they're there. This is for them.

It yipped cheerfully, then opened it's maw, releasing his gift onto an outstretched hand. It, too, was smooth and weighted within her palm.

Boar tusk. Spirit. Courage. Ferocity.

Her other hand reached up, cautiously, and found it's way to the crown of his skull. Fox closed his eyes, looking as though he was smiling, as her fingers scratched lightly the skin beneath his pelt. How strange, giving gifts from other spirits as well. A pink slip of tongue met her arm - an honor, no doubt! - and without warning, the spirit dashed past her, into a bush of vibrant pink roses. Life, her monologue droned at her. Vibrant and happy.

The shamaness could feel her vision slowly reeling towards it's end, and shifted her weight off of her long legs to stand. She was grateful, her two children having being blessed by their spirit counterparts. Twins were already sacred to her people; they represented the delicate balance that is life, of the light and the dark. They would be trained, just as she had, on the ways of the shaman. And Mother Earth had approved of their character.

She beamed with pride, awaiting the vision to fade. But as she sat there, the moments dragging on, her conscious body did not wake. The woman furrowed her brow as she scanned the landscape for anything she'd missed. The forest around her, however, was calm, and yet clearly, there was more to say, more to tell her, but she could not find it. Was she supposed to follow Fox?

As she turned towards the wild roses yet again, thorns glistening in both day and moonlight, a large black and white feather floated weightlessly down into her view. It moved slowly, with grace and power; and rightly so. She caught the eagle feather in mid air, bringing it to her eyes and studying it with intense curiosity. It felt good in her hands, as if sending her love from the Creator, and the way the brilliant white faded into deep black resonated deep within her soul.

The link between spirit and body; between the Creator, and our Mother.

As she drew her eyes up towards the sky in gratitude and prayer she was greeted with the sight of a bat, fluttering blindly between the night and the day. It screeched silently at her, moving in dizzying circles around the tree limbs above her head. While some found them ugly, she adored the bat. When one makes the journey to shamanism, they learn to appreciate their night-dwelling friend and his gift of rebirth; she had not forgotten that gift. She would never forget any of these gifts, one of the many the Creator had given her in her life.

"Meda." The haggard voice of the midwife brought her back to reality. The older woman stared at her, hands now clean and on her hips, with a brow arched. Again she peered down at her children, planting a soft, wet kiss on either of their foreheads as she spoke.

"The boy, born in the day, will be Chogan. The girl, born of night, will be Sinopa." She smiled at them, watching little Chogan's eyes open dreamily and a half-smile catch his small, delicate face. You're meant for great things, her mind cooed, and reluctantly she let go of her children, allowing the midwife to place them safely at her bedside. Although sleep fought at the corners of her eyes, she stood on two shaky legs and pulled two items from her pocket.

"Blackbird and Fox." The midwife mused. "Did you see...?" The question fell short within the midwife's throat, watching the new mother tuck a crow's feather inside of the first bundle, and a patch of fox pelt within the other.

"Yes." Was all Meda could manage before collapsing back onto the bed. Thankfully, the midwife had taken notice of her shaking legs, and was prepared, catching her just before she hit the mattress and lowering her onto it with surprising strength. "Thank you. The Creator sent us these children, my babies." A hand waved in a gesture over to them, weakly. The midwife offered her a glass of water, but she refused, and closed her eyes.

The older woman, seeking more information, placed a loving hand on her shoulder. "Why?" The word came out soft and encouraging; she'd been chosen as midwife for a reason. She had the spirit of Deer, always gentle and compassionate. The shamaness, inwardly, was very grateful for it, and offered her a silent prayer before speaking. Her eyes, however, were far too tired to open; they fluttered in a half-hearted attempt.

"They are here to help our Mother be born again." Meda whispered, a small grin at the corners of her lips. "Justice. Things will be as they should." The last words were nearly inaudible as the fatigue of labor finally took over her weary soul.