The west moon had risen over the cliffs of
highmoore, the east was setting; slowly dipping its silvery crescent
body below the pine boughs of the skyclaw forest. The night was
calm to the casual listener, yet, if one listened closely, they would
hear faintly the deep voices of wood drums, reverberating through the
forest, the beating heart of the land.
Around blazing fires, deep within the forest, was the drum songs source; and with that song, voices rose, and feet licked the forest floor, like fire to the sky. Dancers clad in tones of the earth, with beads of white and black tied in their hair, their bodies tatooed with sigla colored chestnut and red, whipped round the fires, their laughter and the music of their voices flew from their lips to join the drums and complete the song.
Similare scenes were taking place all throughout the forest; for this night was the night before the first of summer.
Apart from the festivities taking place in other parts of the woods, a lone figure danced under the two moons, west rising, and east setting. The muted sound of the drums drifted among the soft, fragrant pine needles that carpeted the forest floor. The dancers feet flickered across the ground. carrying her body, like water, through the woods. Her hair whipped around her face and shoulders, covering them in thick auburn. The scent of pine was thick in her every breath. Eyes, clear and green like a leaf, glinted in the moonlight, as she whirled around.
Hours passed, and still she danced, a shadowed whisper passed between the trees. Soon the west moon began to set, the east already long gone down; and morning began to open its eyes to gaze upon the world. As sunbeams slowly crept between the trees, the dancer became like a flickering candle flame, crossing between darkness, in the shadows of the trees, and light, brought by the slowly rising sun. Her hair was matted down and sweat trickled down her lithe body in little rivers, scented by pine. The drums had long ago ceased and now she danced to the quick beating of her heart. She danced until the sun came near its highest, at which time she came into a glade, where jutted a stone, covered in grass, and rising near fifteen feet at its point, which if followed would guide the passer by south. It rose slowly out of the earth, leaning its craggy body upon the soft ground. This was southstone, in the common tongue; a great ruin left from an age long past and forgotten. To the girl who danced, the rock was known as Romarch, the glade in which it rested its weary body, Omaruar. Stone of Thunder, glade of Winters Peace.
The girl whirled up the soft slope of the rock, called Romarch, drawing from the earth, two blades, which she had planted there when she had begun her dance. Reaching the top of that ruined stone, she stopped her dance by falling to her knees, thrusting her blades down deep into the ground; pushing her body forward, and lifting her face to the sun, now at its peak. She let out a brief yell, which carried on it a tired but joyous note. She fell back, letting go of her blades to sprawl upon the grassy top of Romarch, the Southstone.
Out of the woods surrounding Omaruar, and Romarch, a bent old woman came forth, slowly making her way towards the stone. The girl did not move, but lay upon the grass... waiting. The woman came upon the girl, old eyes looking into young, and said.
"At the top before life, and bottom before death, when thy time hath come be remembered by who's left."
After those words were spoken, the old woman drew from a pouch at her hip, a dagger of bone carved so thin it became translucent, in the sun. A thin black line ran along one edge of the blade. The woman drew closer, and reaching, pulled open the deer hide vest the girl wore, exposing her breasts to the sun. Closer still the old woman leaned, her gnarled hands, tracing, with a bit of charcoal from her pouch, a sigla, between breast and collar bone. The girl still did not move, and the woman leaning above her began to chant strange words, in a tongue the girl did not know, yet recognized as familiar. The chanting stopped, and the blade came down, piercing the sigla newly traced upon the girls flesh, through the center. A cry came ringing from the girls lips. The ink that ran along one edge of the blade, for that was what the black line was, raced down the dagger, to its point and into the wound. Soon the sigla covering the girls body began to glow and ripple, flashing fire reflected in ice. The girls scream grew quiet, and became a soft moan, as the woman began chanting anew.
After a few moments the fiery glow faded from all the sigla but one. The old woman, withdrew her blade, placed it and her charcoal, back into her pouch, stood, and slowly made her way back into the woods. The girl, lay still upon the rock, beads of sweat sliding down her face, stinging her eyes. The last of the fires, lighting only the new rune, died and went out, leaving it tatooed upon the girls chest, connecting all other markings on her body, into one unified design.
The girl stood after a while, slowly growing accustomed to her own two legs.
A voice, drifted to her from the edge of the woods.
"The name you had you leave behind, your past has gone, has burned and died. You are now woman in your own right, and are to choose new a name, this coming night."
The young woman, smiled, knowing already, the name she would take.
Around blazing fires, deep within the forest, was the drum songs source; and with that song, voices rose, and feet licked the forest floor, like fire to the sky. Dancers clad in tones of the earth, with beads of white and black tied in their hair, their bodies tatooed with sigla colored chestnut and red, whipped round the fires, their laughter and the music of their voices flew from their lips to join the drums and complete the song.
Similare scenes were taking place all throughout the forest; for this night was the night before the first of summer.
Apart from the festivities taking place in other parts of the woods, a lone figure danced under the two moons, west rising, and east setting. The muted sound of the drums drifted among the soft, fragrant pine needles that carpeted the forest floor. The dancers feet flickered across the ground. carrying her body, like water, through the woods. Her hair whipped around her face and shoulders, covering them in thick auburn. The scent of pine was thick in her every breath. Eyes, clear and green like a leaf, glinted in the moonlight, as she whirled around.
Hours passed, and still she danced, a shadowed whisper passed between the trees. Soon the west moon began to set, the east already long gone down; and morning began to open its eyes to gaze upon the world. As sunbeams slowly crept between the trees, the dancer became like a flickering candle flame, crossing between darkness, in the shadows of the trees, and light, brought by the slowly rising sun. Her hair was matted down and sweat trickled down her lithe body in little rivers, scented by pine. The drums had long ago ceased and now she danced to the quick beating of her heart. She danced until the sun came near its highest, at which time she came into a glade, where jutted a stone, covered in grass, and rising near fifteen feet at its point, which if followed would guide the passer by south. It rose slowly out of the earth, leaning its craggy body upon the soft ground. This was southstone, in the common tongue; a great ruin left from an age long past and forgotten. To the girl who danced, the rock was known as Romarch, the glade in which it rested its weary body, Omaruar. Stone of Thunder, glade of Winters Peace.
The girl whirled up the soft slope of the rock, called Romarch, drawing from the earth, two blades, which she had planted there when she had begun her dance. Reaching the top of that ruined stone, she stopped her dance by falling to her knees, thrusting her blades down deep into the ground; pushing her body forward, and lifting her face to the sun, now at its peak. She let out a brief yell, which carried on it a tired but joyous note. She fell back, letting go of her blades to sprawl upon the grassy top of Romarch, the Southstone.
Out of the woods surrounding Omaruar, and Romarch, a bent old woman came forth, slowly making her way towards the stone. The girl did not move, but lay upon the grass... waiting. The woman came upon the girl, old eyes looking into young, and said.
"At the top before life, and bottom before death, when thy time hath come be remembered by who's left."
After those words were spoken, the old woman drew from a pouch at her hip, a dagger of bone carved so thin it became translucent, in the sun. A thin black line ran along one edge of the blade. The woman drew closer, and reaching, pulled open the deer hide vest the girl wore, exposing her breasts to the sun. Closer still the old woman leaned, her gnarled hands, tracing, with a bit of charcoal from her pouch, a sigla, between breast and collar bone. The girl still did not move, and the woman leaning above her began to chant strange words, in a tongue the girl did not know, yet recognized as familiar. The chanting stopped, and the blade came down, piercing the sigla newly traced upon the girls flesh, through the center. A cry came ringing from the girls lips. The ink that ran along one edge of the blade, for that was what the black line was, raced down the dagger, to its point and into the wound. Soon the sigla covering the girls body began to glow and ripple, flashing fire reflected in ice. The girls scream grew quiet, and became a soft moan, as the woman began chanting anew.
After a few moments the fiery glow faded from all the sigla but one. The old woman, withdrew her blade, placed it and her charcoal, back into her pouch, stood, and slowly made her way back into the woods. The girl, lay still upon the rock, beads of sweat sliding down her face, stinging her eyes. The last of the fires, lighting only the new rune, died and went out, leaving it tatooed upon the girls chest, connecting all other markings on her body, into one unified design.
The girl stood after a while, slowly growing accustomed to her own two legs.
A voice, drifted to her from the edge of the woods.
"The name you had you leave behind, your past has gone, has burned and died. You are now woman in your own right, and are to choose new a name, this coming night."
The young woman, smiled, knowing already, the name she would take.