Kyani opened her eyes as she felt Oga cuddling against her chest, seeking nourishment. The faint dawn light that streamed into the cave had a magical feel to it, and it seemed as if the very air was muffled and softened. It was quite cold. She nursed the baby and changed her swaddling, then set her down and climbed out of bed, pulling her luxurious silver fox-fur wrap over her already slender body before she stoked the fire. She passed around the gleaming rock formations, feeling the fresh, frigid air on her face. An early snowstorm had blown in overnight, and as the young woman approached the mouth of the cave she could see nothing but glistening white and pastel skies. She smiled at the sight and hugged her arms around her body, spending a long moment reveling in the beauty of snow on bright autumn leaves, slick black branches, and deep green pines. Never did a day pass when Kyani didn't take a moment to be grateful for her life, and to appreciate the world around her. In her every movement, she felt the change that childbirth had wrought in her body. The pain and sucking fatigue had left slowly, but what remained was the most incredible and powerful feeling that Kyani could not describe, only that surely it was what the Great Mother felt with every breath She took. Kyani had learned that her slender body held a deeper strength than she had imagined possible. She was learning, every day, that her body was a source of life for little Oga, who nursed from the young woman's full round breasts. Most of all Kyani felt her hips, which had widened with the birth to make her waist seem all the more narrow. When she walked she could feel her hips swing and switch with pure feminine allure, and she finally understood part of what made a Clan woman's gait so unlike the wide stride of the women of her birth tribe. She knew it drove Broud half-crazy to watch her walk away from him. Their love-making had commenced when the summer grasses turned golden, and he had been tender, and it had been difficult and awkward, but Kyani had learned the power of her own body and soon she brought it to bear on the leader in ways that made him tremble and shake for long moments after they had fallen apart. There was no fear of another child, for she was nursing. There was only their own pleasure, the magic of their love, which Kyani had thought to lose during the ordeal of Oga's birth. Now everything was sacred to the young woman who had learned to walk in two worlds. Kyani had found the magic in ordinary things, and she felt a deep delighted pleasure, and a profound gratitude for her life, as she looked out on a world washed in glittering white.
But then she frowned slightly, thinking of Varn and his companions, and the two young girls, who should have arrived already. The snow was beautiful only to those who had a safe warm home; for travelers, it could be death. She said a prayer to Ursus and the Mother that they would be brought safely through the storm, and then she returned to her hearth. She grinned at the sweet sight of Broud curled up with baby Oga, his thick strong arms around the tiny girl who cuddled into his massive chest. She slid under the furs beside the baby, pressing her legs against Broud's warm body. The leader stirred immediately. He woke and brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear, and kissed his baby on her little red head. Kyani took the baby into her arms but Broud shook his head.
"Go give her to Uba," he gestured in silence, his eyes flashing.
Kyani bit her lips, hesitant to wake the hard working medicine woman.
"Go," Broud repeated, putting his voice into it. "I am jealous for your kisses."
Kyani's soft glittering laughter woke Uba. She lay the little girl down next to the toddler Vorn, and Uba shook her head at the sweet folly. Uba was not jealous. She was not in love with Broud, pleased though she was at the man he had become. She was content to raise her son at Broud's busy hearth. Her only sadness was the lack of a daughter, which had not come even though Broud had taken her many times since-or, in her mind, even though she was close to such a powerful male totem. Uba thought sadly that Vorn was the only child she would be allowed. Who, then, would take her place as medicine woman? Uba gladly cuddled down into her furs with the two children, turning her head away from Broud's furs as Kyani crept back to the leader.
"It has snowed," Kyani said quietly as Broud pulled her close.
"Mmhmm," he muttered carelessly, pushing her down beneath him. Greedily, jealously, he swept the furs up over their heads, and warmth and darkness and passion engulfed them.
The Clan was slow to rise that morning. It was Droog's turn to stand sentinel, as a man did every day, watching for attack. For all the time passed Broud's vigilance had not diminished and it never would, even though the threat seemed very far away on the silent, snowy day. They had fresh bison and beaver meat from the day before, and the women were quick to get food cooking over their hearth fires. A delicious smell filled the cave, to the envy of all four-legged predators in the region. There was acorn flatbread as well, and at Broud's hearth the family dipped it into their thick stew and warmed their bellies against the unexpected cold snap. Brac was eating again, even walking a bit, and he was a reluctant hero to Grev and Durc even though he had failed in his hunt. That he had been thrown by a massive aurochs and survived was enough to impress the younger boys, and to Brac's despair they questioned him again and again on the battle, begging him to tale the tale once more. Brac wished more than anything for solitude, but it was impossible. And so when Droog came running back to the cave, breathless, it was relief at the interruption and not fear that the damaged youth felt.
"Broud!" Droog gasped, appearing at the hearthstones.
The leader was immediately up, and ready for anything. "Who have you seen?"
"I think it is Varn and his people!" Droog gestured. "Varn and his people, fighting their way through the snow."
"You are sure?" Broud demanded.
"I am," Droog said, knowing that the wellbeing of the Clan depended on his confidence.
"Then we must prepare. They will be cold, and hungry. Kyani, see that there is enough bread and stew for our guests, and make tea. Uba, get out our extra bowls, and Ebra-" Broud turned to his mother, noticing again how old she suddenly looked. The fire was freezing to ice in her hair, and her skin seemed to be thinning and wrinkling more with each passing day. "Ebra, rest a little longer, with the babies Vorn and Oga," Broud said, sighing.
"I will get more furs, and make a new hearth," Uba offered.
"Do it, then."
Varn and his companions-six hunters of varied ages and the two young girls, along with an older female who traveled with them-made their slow way up into the cave. One of the men had a severe case of frostbite on his left hand, and Uba quickly prepared a poultice, thinking that one or more of the fingers would have to go. But in general, the group was happy for the warmth of Broud's cave.
Kyani went to the boys. Durc was still asleep, but Brac was up, staring down into his lap as he twisted the ties of his foot coverings. "Brac, come and sit with us. There is a very special visitor here who I'm sure is eager to meet you. Her name is Asha, and she's come a very long way to join our hearth."
Brac cringed slightly, but Kyani did not note it the way Uba or Broud would have. Reluctantly obedient, he used Kyani's proffered hand to stand, and he took his walking stick and made his slow way to Broud's side, humiliated at the stick and his limp and what it implied.
"Durc," Kyani whispered, touching the boy softly. The boy woke up, blinking his sleep away. He smiled to see Kyani, a gesture that thus far only the two of them shared. "Durc, someone is here to meet you."
The boy sat up immediately, peering with curious eyes across the fire. So far, he saw only a cluster of strange men, but there were two young girls in their midst, standing shyly beside a stout middle-aged matron. "My mate?" he asked.
Kyani nodded, grinning. "Ura. She's finally come."
Durc hopped up, and as he did the group of men shifted and pulled apart, and there in their center was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Ura had a sweet, delicate face: big brown eyes, slightly down-turned and deep set, full of exotic mystery; a straight little nose that turned slightly up at the end; high strong cheekbones; and a small heart-shaped mouth, all framed by shiny brown ringlets that were curling up tight as they dried near the fire. She was more slender than other Clan girls, and very shy, having lived her whole life thus far with a broken-spirited mother and the woman's mate, who hated Ura and told her she was worthless and ugly at every opportunity he could find. Varn was more than happy to get the girl away, and it seemed she would find more joy in Broud's Clan. At least the boy planned for her could not judge her for her peculiar appearance! Durc shot a clever gaze at Broud's mate and exclaimed as quietly as he could, "But she- She is different! She's like me, isn't she?"
Kyani nodded again, the smile still on her face. "It's fitting. And she's a very pretty little girl, isn't she?"
Durc took a deep breath; even in his childish mind he knew, somehow, that his destiny was before him in the form of the little girl Ura. He felt a fierce longing for his mother then, to share in his happiness. He looked away from Kyani, but said as he did, "Oh… she is beautiful!"
"Go to her, Durc," Kyani said, but the boy needed no motivation. He hurried to join Broud and Brac, biting his lips to keep the strange, unClan-like smile from his beaming face.
The children did not speak much to each other, though Durc was the most outgoing, surprising his father. He asked Ura what her mother's name was and what foods she liked best, and if she knew how to cook or make wraps. The shy girl was quite overwhelmed at this attention from a boy, but Broud was pleased, and he thought that the match of Durc and Ura was a promising one. He was glad he had been too occupied to forbid it years before at the Clan Gathering. Asha, too, was a delight, the perfect manifestation of a Clan woman with impeccable, demure behavior and dark good looks. She was the fourth child of a fertile mother. Broud was even happier to find out that Asha had become a woman shortly before her departure for his cave, and she seemed to be quite shapely under her clumsily worked wrap. The only sour spot for Broud was Brac's utter reluctance to recognize the attractive girl. He should have some interest in the young woman who would be his mate, especially after Broud had caught his growing curiosity towards Ura; but there was none. Brac treated the girl as if she was a non-entity, completely beneath his notice. If he had taken to bossing Asha around Broud would have been pleased, but Brac spent much of the first meeting staring at his feet. Something's wrong with the boy, Broud thought, but he had no understanding of what it was. If Broud had been tossed by an aurochs at any age he would have spent his convalescence sharpening his spears and pining away for the day he could get back into the field and prove his courage. He could not imagine that they boy was shaken to the core of his being at the merciless approach of manhood, now manifested in Asha's dark docile gaze.
Broud was a good host. He was proud of his hearth and proud of the resilience of his Clan, which had added three new members since the earthquake and the attack. The snow clung around his cave but melted down the slopes and on the steppe, and he was happy for Varn and his men to join in a bison hunt, excluding the hunter whom Uba had to amputate fingers from. The women gathered the last of the autumn's bounty and prepared great feasts, and Broud hosted hunt dances and storytelling at night, which he knew he excelled at. Later still the men took part in their sacred ceremonies.
But if Varn's men lingered much longer, they would put a strain on the Clan. That, and they had many days' journey ahead of them and true winter was bearing down quickly. Varn came to stand behind Broud one morning as the leader stood gazing out from the promontory. Broud, sensing that the time had come, put his hand on the other leader's shoulder. "You've brought me two good girls, Varn. I am pleased."
"I hope they will bring much joy and comfort to the boys of your hearth. It's a shame Brac was injured on his first hunt. The aurochs is an unpredictable beast. The boy is truly lucky to be alive. He must be very strong."
"He is strong," Broud said firmly, as if it could be no other way. "And he will get his chance to make a kill again soon, though I doubt it will be until after the winter. Still, we will care for Asha until he can take her to his own hearth."
Varn nodded, content that he was leaving the girls in good hands. He let a moment of satisfied silence pass, and then he said, "Broud, the last time we came you spoke of taking certain preparations against the Others. You said you would show me what you've created here to protect your people."
"I did," Broud said. "We've developed quite a system to deal with invaders. I will show you, if you still wish it."
"It is well to prepare, Broud, and I am deeply grateful for your leadership in this strange matter. There is no doubt that more of these people are flooding our lands, and they are an angry, aggressive people. But…" Varn hesitated, scratching his shaggy head. "Do you have some… er… particular reason to believe this system will be necessary soon?"
Broud shifted his weight uncomfortably. "My mog-ur has seen it," he said. "And… I am sure you noted the appearance of my first mate."
"She is one of them," Varn said, glad that the subject was broached finally. "But you did not have her at the Clan Gathering. She was not raised by your Clan."
"She was raised by them," Broud confirmed. "But she is fully Clan now. Yet… Well, after we were attacked, I chased them with some of my other hunters. We gave them a good fight, but all spare me were killed. I was injured. The woman found me and tended my wound, and her people discovered us. In their anger they ran her off, but we were followed. We were followed across the steppe, Varn."
The other man furrowed his heavy brows. "They know where you are."
"Generally, yes," Broud said. "I never saw them, but I felt their presence. For some reason they've not attacked us yet, but I am sure they will. And for every day that passes in peace, I wonder what evil is being worked against me."
Varn sighed heavily. He had suspected something like this; he had suspected that the beautiful young woman had much to do with the present danger Broud's Clan was in. He thought Broud might have captured the girl, but perhaps it was even worse that she had turned on her own men and gone willingly with Broud. "They will want her back, Broud. Or they will want revenge for her loss. I fear you are right. With each passing day, they likely grow stronger. I'm sure you noticed the size of my travelling party."
"These are dangerous times," Broud said.
"Yes. But I owe you a debt. The courage and…" Varn frowned. He could not think of the word, but he meant to say, initiative. "The leadership you shared with me, on this matter, in the ceremony, was as water to a thirsting man. A nearby Clan was wiped out by a band of these chalk-faces. I was in despair for all our people, but now I see a way. You have only three strong arms besides your own here. I've brought along two of my strongest hunters, Tag and Kirn. I would like to leave them with you, to help you when your enemies come against you."
"Surely you need your men, Varn," Broud said, even as his heart leaped at this unexpected gift. "I would not weaken your Clan, or put you at risk as you journey home."
"We'll be all right, Broud," Varn said gruffly, as if he were offended that Broud assumed he had not thought this out long and hard. "You are the one who is in the greatest peril, I fear. And you, Broud, are the only one who can lead us in these strange times. You are the leader of the first Clan, Broud. You are the leader of us all now. If you fall, darkness will come over this land. Two men are the least I can give to your struggle. I am ashamed that I can offer you no more."
Varn, like all Clan men, was uncomfortable with such long, emotional speeches. "I have spoken," he said, and then the northern leader turned on his heel and returned to the cave, leaving Broud alone to stand against the wind whipping his mountain.
Kyani shifted Oga in her sling and sorted through the collection of shells, quills, and bits of bone she had amassed in the year she had been with the Clan.
"What will you do with these?" Ona asked, scooping up some of the hollow quills in her hands.
"You will see," Kyani said. She looked up to see Uba bringing over the collection of furs and hides that she had amassed from Broud's successful hunts. "Set them there, Uba," she instructed. She no longer smiled at the Clan women. It had taken a while, but she had taken her cues from Broud and used all her will to inject her emotion into her eyes, and it made the other women more comfortable around her. Now Kyani produced a leather satchel and pulled out the finished product of a project she had worked on at night, in secret, as Oga nursed. The women narrowed their eyes at the belt Kyani had made, woven in a chevron pattern from strips of wicker dyed yellow and black. Kyani longed for red, but that color was sacred, and for blues and purples, but she had found none of the necessary mollusks on their fishing trips to the sea coast. Another woven product was a black cord accented with shining mother of pearl shells, the holes delicately punched in either side. She passed the black cord to Ona, the most slender of the women though she was in her first trimester of pregnancy. "Here, tie this about your waist, to gather your wrap tighter under your chest."
Delighted, Ona stood and awkwardly tried out the belt. The Clan tied a cord around their wrap, which served to pull the excess up into functional pockets, but function did not extend to form. Ona wrapped the long cord around her plain hide several times, quickly figuring out how to accent her slim waist.
"What's the point of this?" Uka asked irritably.
"To be pretty," the leader's mate said lightly. She pulled one of her hides close, a soft pale doeskin that Broud had given her after Oga was born. It reminded him of the dress she had worn when they first met. She had already worked the hide into the basic form of a well-fitting dress, and now she held it aloft. "To express yourself, as a woman." It pleases the Mother, she added silently, to love the unique gifts that she gives us.
Uka grunted, not seeing the point. "A good warm wrap has always been good enough for us, hasn't it Ika?"
But Ika was treasonously arranging several carved bone beads in a clever pattern. "Oh, I don't know, Uka," she gestured vaguely. "What would you do with these, Ki-ani?
"Well," Kyani said, "I would use a thin sinew and thread them around the neck or the sleeves in a pattern, or I would fringe the bottom of a dress and bead the fringes, or… anything I could think of!"
The women had a range of reactions to this. Uka grudgingly nodded in understanding, and the younger women expressed delight at the idea of altering their plain wraps in such a way. They had long been curious about the subtle alterations Kyani had performed on her Clan-style wraps, and the way she had used the rich pelts Broud always brought her to adorn the sleeves or collars, and the fine fur cloaks she made. She had been warming the women, slowly, to the images she had in her mind of the fancy dresses she longed to wear again. Now, as the winter closed in around them, Kyani decided it was time to begin her craft.
"What else can you make?" Ovra asked.
Kyani puzzled over the words. Clan women didn't wear much in the way of adornment, saving their amulets or the paint the medicine woman wore during special ceremonies. She tried to explain the idea of necklaces and bracelets and even anklets for the summer months. As she did Oga came awake and began to fuss, and Kyani set the six month old baby down beside the year old baby Vorn, sliding her pile of beads and shells and quills out of the child's grasp. Oga was a quick jolly baby who had a deep curiosity about the people and objects around her. The baby had a fast and humorous crawl already, and was trying to pull herself up to walk far sooner than Kyani knew any baby to have ever done. Oga had driven Uba crazy trying to get at her little pouches of herbs and snatching for her otter-skin medicine bag. Kyani, though vigilant that the child did not ingest something harmful, felt a surge of hope at this, a selfish hope which grew stronger as the moons and seasons cycled and still Uba did not conceive. Still, the young woman was reluctant to broach the subject of making Oga the medicine woman's acolyte. Uba seemed happy enough, but Kyani thought that the medicine woman held her secret longing for more children very close to her heart. She did not want to offend or hurt Broud's second woman, who she had grown to love very much.
The women watched in uncertain wonder as Kyani took her small flint knife and began to slash out fringing for her new doeskin dress. Once she was done, she lay several different furs over the pale, creamy hide. Red fox fur, silky black rabbit fur, and the deep brown sable of a mink seemed best to her but she could not decide. With a bit of mischievous delight she looked to Uka. "Which one?"
"Which one what?" Uka gestured, uncertain what the leader's flashy mate meant now.
"Which fur, to line the collar and the sleeves? This will be a winter dress."
Uka, reluctantly flattered now, shuffled a little closer. She tentatively stuck a finger out and ran it over the glossy pelts. "The mink," she decided, sitting back and puffing her chest a little in pride.
"The mink, then," Kyani said, setting the others to the side. "And there are several pelts, and another doeskin. I will use the rest to make doeskin boots lined with fur, to match."
"And decorated with these shiny dark quills," Ona suggested quickly, pouring them hand to hand and enjoying the sound, like fine rain beating on dried leaves.
"And decorated with the quills," Kyani agreed, returning to her work.
Soon enough, the younger women shyly asked Kyani to help them adorn their own wraps, and then to teach them how to make closer fitting dresses like the ones she herself now wore. As the winter wore on the women of the Clan bubbled, then exploded, with a frenzy of individualism and cleverly worked clothes. Even the men appreciated how Kyani could take them out of simple mammoth hide foot coverings, plainly laced with cord, and put them into warmer, snugger boots cut to match their feet and calves.
Broud surveyed all of this with grudging wonder. He had not seen much of this transformation, and it caught him by surprise. Even though the snow was high, he was busy training the two newcomers in the tactics and signals he had invented, and in repairing and improving his pit traps and fortifications. As with the winter before, Broud wanted to be prepared for the warmer weather that brought hunters of all quarries out from their ice-locked caves. He had tried to bring Brac with him to oversee some of the work. After all, the boy would be leader after him, and he would need to know how to deal with Others just as much as Varn and the other leaders did. But Brac's leg always seemed to be bothering him when Broud asked, and so he never wanted to risk further injury in the ice and snow.
"What have you done to my people?" Broud asked Kyani gruffly one night, as he climbed into his soft furs beside her.
"I just shared a little of what I like," she said innocently, hoping he was not unpleased. She thought the women looked very lovely in their new boots and closer fitting wraps, some lined with pretty furs and smooth bone beads that they learned to carve themselves. "There's little to do in the winter, once the work is done."
But Broud hardly heard her answer, hardly cared, as he ran his fingers teasingly down the deep curve of her spine. "Share a little more," he told her quietly, and then he crawled over her silky back and banished the cold.
The lanky blonde boy raced up the snow covered path from the fa-lodge, his legs pumping hard through the high drifts. His lungs were bursting from the effort and the icy blasts of wind against him but he kept on, until he reached the collection of stone shelters with their little puffs of hearth-smoke billowing brown against the white sky. He thrust the heavy mammoth hide cover aside and skidded into the serene blonde woman's presence, collapsing at her feet and panting for his breath.
The woman turned aside from another woman, a young maiden newly mated who had come for help to conceive a badly wanted child. She frowned to see the fear in the youth's clear blue eyes. "What is it, my son? What has happened?" She feared that someone had been injured or worse. The older children had taken to sneaking onto the ice-locked river lately, even though the elders warned them that the river rushed fast beneath the deceitful calm of the ice, and the ice often thinned unpredictably.
"Men!" He burst, sucking his breath. "There are strange men staying in some of the fa-lodges, many strange and unsavory looking men, and they are riling people up to go and kill Flatheads to the east!"
The woman frowned. She disliked the evil expression referencing the Old Ones who long lived in this land and were as much a part of the Mother as she or her son, or any of the others. Even more troubling was the thought of those she had accepted as guests in the Mother's name inciting her people to senseless violence.
"Where is this?"
"Down by the birch forest," the boy reported diligently. "They plan to winter here and leave when the weather breaks, and they want to take five of our men with them."
"Foolishness," the woman declared, rising from her fur adorned seat. Her impressive dress of indigo fell to her thickening ankles, and the sacred cowrie shells imported from far to the south and stitched to her gown rattled as she strode across her shelter and snatched up a cloak of royal winter ermine. "Wicked foolishness."
She turned to the woman who had come to seek her help. "I'll not be long, daughter. Rest here by my fire and take your comfort. I will give you what you desire when I return."
The woman-both the leader and the highest holy woman of her people-would put a quick end to the wicked work of the interlopers. She knew of their presence among the men, and she had tolerated it in observance of the custom which extended shelter to travelers. But that custom did not extend to men who only came to foment evil and violence. She would forbid her own people from taking part in such folly, and inform the travelers that once the weather was fair enough they would have to move on. There was a woman and a yearling child in their company, a woman with clouded guilty eyes, and the holy woman would not send such into the frozen wilderness no matter what. The babe, at least, was an innocent.
Though growing thick now in her middle age, she was strong and she cut a path through the snow with bold, determined steps. The fa-lodges were on the outskirts of the settlement, places where single men or men seeking solitude, or the company of other men, would retreat to from time to time. Often they would pass their time making weapons or meditating, or resting from hard hunts or overbearing mates and loud children. But lately a new trouble had come from the far west, a fermented drink brought by a man of the Zelandonii that slurred the senses and even overpowered and addicted the constitutionally weak. Several of the fa-lodges had been reduced to nothing more than gathering places for barma drinkers, and uncouth behavior and fighting were reported with alarming frequency.
"Where?" she asked curtly, and the youth pointed his slim elegant finger towards a cluster of lodges interspersed with slender pale birches slick and silver and shiny under a thick coating of ice. The woman set forth, but as she did, the screeching cry of an owl pierced the wintery calm. The holy woman felt a tingling in her spine, and she hesitated for a brief moment. The owl should not be awake now, crying out in the pale cold light of day. The woman frowned, torn between her own sudden fear and her duty to her people. Experiencing a hesitation and doubt that she had not felt since her initiation as a young maiden, she turned to her son and asked, "And did our men hear these travelers?"
The boy, tall and handsome with the silvery beauty of the first rush of his true manhood, nodded gravely. "They wanted to go. The barma drinkers, mostly. The travelers made promises of a woman of our kind among the Flat- among the Old Ones, a very young woman of exquisite and unearthly beauty." The boy flushed from the base of his throat to the tips of his cold ears. "A woman they said was… was deserving of ravishing."
The holy woman made the sign of Mut against such black evil, and barreled forth with new purpose. Without so much as a warning call she thrust aside the covering of the largest lodge and barreled her way inside, planting her hands on her hips and appraising the scene.
There were near a score of men packed in the dark, smoky confines of the lodge. Many were sitting, drinking, well into drunkenness. Several stood in the center behind the man who seemed to be their leader, the man called Drakav. Drakav had a water-sack of barma in his hand and he drank as he gave his speech, and now, with the interruption, he whirled to face the holy woman. In the background the cloudy-eyed woman stood in silence, her child playing in the dirt on the floor unattended.
"Mother," Drakav said, though there was an irreverent slur to his words even as he made a slight bow and a flourishing gesture of respect with his hand. Drakav's sharp eyes flickered to the tall boy, and he did not bother to offer a greeting to this one, who had up and ran when he began his speech.
The holy woman wasted no time. "Drakav, you and your company have been made welcome here, as the customs demand. But I am told now that your visit is not once of trade or hardship or even curiosity, but for the single purpose of sucking my men into an evil campaign."
Drakav, whose hatred grew with each morning sun and evening moon, reacted with deliberate shock and surprise. "Evil!" he cried, looking about the audience of men. "There is no evil in my intentions, Mother! I seek honest compensation for the wrongs inflicted upon me and my people!"
"That well may be," the holy woman declared, the hard anger rich in her clear, strong voice, "but we have been dealt no injury by the Old Ones, and we have no cause to do harm to them. I have come-"
"No injury!" another man spat, coming forward. The holy woman immediately disliked the appearance of this man. He was dirty and squint-eyed, with a fell energy surrounding him. "Your own people tell me that one of your women was captured and raped by these beasts! Yes, raped and raped again, and she bore a hybrid creature so foul she shuddered to bring it to breast! Would you, wise woman-" he laughed now, at this, "allow such injuries to go unavenged?"
The holy woman narrowed her powerful gaze on this man, who was weak in soul no matter how mighty in stature he was. "Vengeance is a slippery game, my child. One never knows what scores will be settled, once all the players are set in motion!" She could see the end of this man as clearly as if it happened before her, she could see his lifeblood rushing in a half-frozen stream.
"We want to go with Drakav!" a young man of her band called, drunken beyond memory of the respect the holy woman was due.
"I forbid it," she said coldly. "And I have come to tell you, Drakav, that for the sake of the woman and child you may stay until the weather first breaks, but no longer. You have trampled upon the courtesy of custom, and we want none of your hate talk here!"
There was uproar among the seated men, and some rose to their feet, and for the first time, the slender silvery youth felt a jolt of terror. The atmosphere was chaotic in the lodge. The drunken men had been roused to hatred and violence by Drakav's speech, and to lust as well by his talk of the delectable young woman they could share as violently as they dreamed in their drunkenness as their prize for killing a few men and women who were little more than beasts anyway.
"We want him here! You don't speak for us, woman!" a man cried from the back, but others more sober argued against his disrespect, and soon there was shoving. Drakav watched on carefully, the fire reflecting in his hot pale eyes.
"Look what you have done!" the holy woman spat coldly. "I should banish you now! Leave this lodge, and let these ignorant fools regain their heads!" Even as she stood on her authority and commanded the guests, she felt herself jostled by the commotion in the crowd. Furious now, she raised her hands and cried, "You will go now, or I shall curse you and your wicked ventures, by wind and earth and fire-"
Her potent curse cut off in a gasp, and then a groan, as the ten inch blade pushed into her stomach. Drugan, his lips sneering and his eyes wide and crazed, twisted the blade once, twice, a third time, before drawing it up through her abdomen and shoving the woman off his blade and down to the ground. The holy woman crumpled, her divine power whispering away on the wind. For a moment there was shocked silence, and then the silvery youth screamed and threw himself at Drugan. His fate was quickly met, a slash across the throat. There were cries of alarm and outrage and self-righteous delight, and soon the lodge was a tomb of death as men hit and kicked and fought.
"Let's go, let's go!" Drakav cried. Kieran, heretofore frozen in horror, lifted the baby from the ground and dragged his mate out into the blistering cold. Drakav and his seven men, joined by two of the most ignoble souls in the holy woman's band, ran for their lives into the distance. Those who would avenge their spiritual and temporal leader were too drunk to follow, and they fell to their knees in horror at what had happened.
"He killed a holy woman!" Kieran sputtered, once they were clear of the birch forest.
"It's no matter," Drakav hissed. "She would have cursed us."
"Foul witch!" Drugan snapped, coming to join the two men. "Try to curse me!"
"But what will we do now?" Kieran demanded, aghast. "It is winter! We've no shelters of our own! It is many days between this place and the next settlement, and who knows how soon word will spread of this-" Frightened, Kieran cut his word back. He would have said crime, blasphemy, outrage. Instead, he bowed his head in shame and said, "This fight."
"We will go back!"
The men turned at once, as Ilona slinked her way through the snow.
"Ilona… We'll surely be killed if we return to that village," Kieran said, shaking his head at the folly of his mate.
"I don't mean go back to the fa-lodges!" Ilona spat, scorning the mate she had judged as weak. "I mean we go back, to the steppes, to the mountains where these beasts make their home." She turned to Drakav, meeting his sharp gaze. "We go back, it won't take much more than a moon, and we attack before the first melt comes. They will not expect us! They will be huddled in their cave like hibernating beasts, and you will fall on them, and take them unaware."
The men gathered round offered a rumble of declarations. Some thought it foolish to travel so far in the snow. Others thought it was the perfect plan. After all, they had hides and furs, they had an arsenal of weapons, they could survive.
Ilona met Drakav's shocked stare, her eyes burning. And then, the leader of their group slowly began to nod his head. Drakav turned to the nine other men and declared. "All right! We go back! We know how to fell trees and make tents and fires! We've nothing to fear from the cold, and we've nothing to fear from the Flatheads! The time has come, my brothers. Let us move on the mountains, and take our revenge!"
