About two handsful of days after Ayla and the Zelandonii man had left, the Mamutoi buried Lomie. The asthmatic First Healer had finally succumbed to the cough that the volcanic ashes had brought about many in the camp.
Some others had gone before her, and Marlie, the hosting Wolf Camp's headwoman, would likely be next. She could hardly get out of bed any more, and was out of breath after a few steps.
Watching the youngest surviving daughter of his third woman pull on for just a few more days, so as to talk her daughter Tricie into joining with Ranec and taking over as headwoman, saddened the old Mamut of Lion Camp more than his newly adopted daughter's departure, which he had been expecting for a while and which he took as a part in the long-term plans of the Mother.
Lomie's death was a grave loss, too. He had counted on her to carry on his legacy, to keep some of the deepest and darkest mysteries not every Mamut could be trusted with, but now, she was no more.
She had not taken well to every revelation he had passed on to her, he had to admit, particularly anything to do with the Clan. Lomie had been one of those adamant not to allow Rydag to be counted amongst the Mamutoi and not even to grant him a decent burial. As a healer, she had claimed, she had to prevent contamination to the tribe.
She had stuck to that motto to the very end, insisting also that everybody had to wear the same scarves of felt or woven hairs that they used for protection against dust-storms, to keep themselves from inhaling the ashes. That had likely saved many lives, but not Lomie's own. He wondered to whom he should pass on his knowledge now, or whether the Mother meant it to die with him one day.
„Milk of Doni's breasts" the Zelandonii traveller who had lured Spirit Woman away had called this ghastly, nasty, killing stuff. It was still everywhere, permeating every nook and cranny. People were coughing; some had died. And the grazing herds stayed away from the grass that was more like a whetstone now because of the intermingling ashes.
The stored mammoth meat was nearly eaten up. Vincavec sat meditating at Lomie's grave. There was no First Healer any more. Elk Camp's - Brecie's - mamut was good at healing and might fill the void at some time, but really that should have been Ayla's place.
Old Mamut of Lion Camp was still First Searcher, and there had not been a First Seer or Seeress since the rift with the Sungaea at a time shrouded in myth.
There was still the vague hope that Latie, who was clearly gifted, would sign up for training, but so far, she had not. Vincavec himself, despite his youth, was the Mamutois' First Caller. His gift was utterly useless now. Whatever he'd do, the herds would never come to a land where they could not browse.
Was the Mother so upset with the Mamutoi that She had decided to destroy them by this deadly „milk from Her breasts"? If so, what had they done wrong? Was it that they had been unable to attract Ayla, the living muta, to stay with them? But that had not been sealed when the ashes cloud rose, and besides, if the Mother had sent out the man from the far west years before, so that he could take Ayla back with him now, that must have been her plan all along, so why would She punish Her children?
There was only one event that coincided with the mountain spouting, and that was Wolf's arrival at the hunting party, or in other words: the mixed boy Rydag dying. Should the Mamutoi have welcomed him? Could he have been an acolyte, once Ayla had introduced a means of communication, and maybe an important teacher later on?
If his mother's people did burial ceremonies as Ayla had done for the boy, his people must certainly possess valuable spiritual knowledge. Was the Mother displeased with the Mamutoi for shunning him?
What if Old Mamut, who had lived with flatheads long ago, who had participated in their ceremonies and mastered their hand-talk to some degree, would have remembered that strange language years earlier, when the mute boy had been living at his camp? Vincavec had mentioned some of these thoughts during the latest mamuti meeting, and had promptly been thrown out.
He was not comfortable with the thought that their attitude towards flatheads might be such an issue to the Mother that she'd condemn people for making the wrong choiche, but for all he could tell, that was what was happening.
But he needed an ordeal to be certain. If, he decided, by using the flathead wind spirit's name he had learned during Latie's vision, he could help his people get out of this misery, he would travel and learn from those flatheads, and speak for them as best he could.
Oooha was delighted. Never before had any living thing made a reasonable request of her. Always, they had asked or even demanded she'd stop blowing. That was certainly not something to request of the wind personified.
She did not particularly care about the seabirds she often crushed against rocks, or the seal cubs on their sand banks struggling to breathe in her sanding storms, or the one or other mammoth swept up in a tornado. The fates of individuals did not matter to her. All she knew was that it was her duty to propel, destroy and transport. She might flatten an entire forest, devastate an island or kill a swarm of birds in her rage, and she'd drop the majority of her charge of travelling plant seeds, birds, insects, bats, spiders gliding on their cobweb-parachutes, and other living things, somewhere over the ocean to drown. But sometimes some of them would reach new shores, and the Mother would rejoice.
There had been other living things long ago in the past, like giant dragonflies, or the first hide-winged ones with their toothed beaks ...
Those-with-a-mind had stopped talking to her a little while ago. (They hadn't been in existance overly long so far, for that matter.) Only once had they acknowledged her recently, to take a look at a yellow-furred land-bound living thing, which sometimes hurled stones through her air, but did not create larger scale havoc and was hence overall rather boring.
But now, another one of those living and with-a-mind had contacted her, and that one was really delightful. He had actually asked her to blow more! It was a small thing to do, blow that ash away, as she did with the loess dust on a regular basis.
She had been more than willing to grant his request, since he had addressed her with sounds made from air for the first time she could remember, and he had burned some of his own blood as was appropriate, and some of the resin of the ancient forests that she and her rain sister had buried under mudslides long ago: amber. The smell reminded her of the first creatures that had ever taken to the air. She loved it.
Back to her current companion. She was not sure why she had a feeling he was male, like Lumi, the Mother's pale lover in the sky, who somehow influenced her own and her ocean sister's movements, and if he was, what that maleness meant to her. But she wanted to keep him. He was such a delight with his interest in her ways and powers that she just wanted to keep him and be with him always.
When he detected something on the ground that caught his interest, although it was of no matter to her, she leaned in closer. Some of those-with-a-mind had built up their flimsy shelters that were so easily swept up and away, while some others of their kind, and horses, and a wolf, were approaching them.
Oooha felt it would be easiest to just kill them all and gather their spirits so her companion could play whith them, but he seemed to mind, and she really had no experience whith such things, so she let him watch the insignificant creatures and proceed his way.
The dust-storm was early in the season, in fact months before its time. Falcon Camp had set up their tents close to the river, although they were late for the summer meeting. There was no travelling through this grit. Urged by their mamut, they had even sent guards out. The woman had her antics and awkward moments, but she had been adamant there were spirits travelling on the wind.
The Falcon Camp mamut herself was beyond herself with worry, much worse than she could let her camp know. She could feel magic in the wind, and sensed a powerful mind driving it - not necessarily evil, but largely oblivious to destruction, like a woman trampling ants or earthworms in her travels.
Worse, the shaman herself had only her aurochs mask with her, and the decorated staff, but not the raven mask which should have been much more useful dealing with a wind spirit. Heart in her camp-shoes, she decided it would have to do. There was no other way. She would do what she could to protect her people.
„He has been out there alone for a day and night." Avarie was shifting weight nervously from one foot to the other and wringing her hands in front of Old Mamut of Lion Camp. „I know thirst is only a problem after three days, but the wind has been blowing so strongly, taking all the ashes with it. It's just that I'm worried."
The Mammoth Camp headwoman did not mention that the storm blowing with gale-force so early in the season worried her also, even though it had taken the deadly ashes away. Her brother's reputation was bad enough as it were, since the First Rites ceremony anyway - there was really no stopping rumours at a summer meeting; she would not tell anyone outside their camp that he had insisted they move everything inside and reinforce their tents' fastenings, as if he had seen the storm coming - or planned to Call it. Thinking the latter gave her the creeps. She did not know of any other shaman her brother was on really good terms with and who might help him, except for the revered old man from Lion Camp.
Old Mamut was pleased that Avarie had shown up and asked him to help rescue her brother. He had waited for someone to volunteer, but had hoped it would be Latie - they would be a perfect match he thought, both striving for this new Controlling power, both open-minded and caring.
He would rather like passing his knowledge of handling spirits to a woman of his kin, but Latie had not asked to be taught, and there seemed to be no attraction between her and Vincavec, which spoke well of the young man's conduct at the ceremony - hiding his identity - but was overall a pity, he thought. Be that as it may, only someone who loved the person dearly could draw someone back who was lost in the spirit world, and now Avarie had volunteered. There was still hope for his potential successor.
Tulie both admired and pitied Avarie. She was not at all sure she could do the younger headwoman's job, if she had to, and was glad she didn't have to try. Taking over Talut's duties, if her brother were incapacitated, would be hard enough, but Avarie now even had to bring her brother back from places ordinary mortals could not go, and deal with powers beyond their grasp. She shivered.
The small group of people had reached the hilltop where the lone figure sat cross-legged, wrapped in a heavy cloak of musk-ox fur, eyes unfocused to the distance, his long brown hair trailing haphazardly in the wind. The fire in front of him had long gone out, but the cut and dried blood on his left wrist left no doubt that he had been into blood magic.
Tulie did not have the spiritual knowledge to also evaluate the half-empty container of amber fragments that sat beside the unconscious shaman, but Old Mamut, whom Talut had carried up the slope, did.
The gemstone was not just a stone, but also a resin, that could be burned as incense; it could encapsule plants or insects, and when rubbed on fur, it could create sparks. So the powerful stone carried the forces of stone, life, fire, air and lightning, and was used in the most ancient and feared rituals, that drew on the highest forces. The Amber Camp shamans had always been particularly powerful.
Avarie was shouting at her brother, alternately slapping him and trying to make him drink from a waterskin. With the gale blowing, he looked certainly parched.
Several days' walk to the southwest, the Falcon Camp mamut exited her tent, with aurochs mask and staff, in full ceremonial garb. The headman had shouted something about horse-human spirits. She would face them, but beforehand, she let all her pent-up tension out in one powerful roar and jabbed her staff into the air, imagining punching a spirit in the face and propelling it back to where it might belong. To her utter astonishment, she had the impression of actually hitting something.
Being back in his body hurt. He was parched and felt a black eye developing, likely from the hit with the staff. Interesting; so far, he had always riduculed the Falcon Camp mamut for her supposedly pointless mask-dances. He dimly registered people around him and gratefully accepted water from his sister. It had all worked. He was elated.
Oooha was quite disappointed. She could not comprehend what the living things had done to each other, and didn't really care, but her companion was gone from her, back to his mortal shell. Briefly she considered reclaiming him, but could not really make him out in the throng of other creatures, and then she thought he would come back to her for sure, now that he knew he could travel with the wind. She would wait. What was a human's lifetime to her after all?