Chapter 39
"Foresight"
Mother.
I recognized that voice. It belonged to Exile.
What have you done?
Astonishment softened the words, but they were still slighted and condemning and so very close to my pack that I flinched out of unconsciousness into an upright position. I expected to see the marks of my pack, Alpha and Omega and the others, but when I blinked back the dreamy fog of my rest, I found a circle of different forms and colors and expressions staring back at me. Some worried. Others distraught or anxious or curious. Okatie was there. So was Lakota. Her owl, Hootie Hoot, poked its head around her neck from atop her shoulders. A hound separated each of them. One for the sun. One for the moon.
The foxes themselves were stuffed like nosey pups in between. Naphtali was the only one that anchored her presence with a cool gaze. It sparkled a little when the rest of the group stepped back in a unanimous sigh of relief. I was grateful for the space, yet when I tried to stand, such a throb pulsed through my veins, I thought they might collapse afterwards. Lakota came in close, ready to hold me up again like she did at the river. The hounds spoke for her.
"Stay still, Mother." "You have much to heal." They chimed even without the foxes' assistance.
If I still had a ways to go even though I was now dry and no longer shivering, it did not bode well for my state of being.
"How long-," I began.
"Have you soaked our tails?" the Blue Fox of the Moon picked up, quick to show off how many times he and his sister saved my life.
"Enough," he shrugged, ready to be through with me.
They must have warmed and dried me with their fire and tails and fur then. All of them did in one way or another. I felt their influence within the Spirit and smelt them on my coat. The hounds. Lakota and Okatie. The owl. The foxes. Even Naphtali. Each of them spent time with me in my rest to warm my blood and massage my heart with the Spirit so it would keep beating when I was too weak to keep it going myself. Their will was so strong that the air around us remained warmer than the rest of the wild. We must be on the altar then. I was getting used to sleeping on these hard dusty stones. It was night, but the stars were incredibly bright, twinkling like Naphtali's eyes as she watched me.
"How," I started up.
"Did you get here?" the Red Fox of the Sun filled in, waving her tails.
They brushed against Lakota who was next to her. The young one endured them with practiced ease. Her owl hooted rudely. We must have been here for quite some time then for a Mighty Hena to accept a fox's touch with such trust. But the better question was, how did all of us get here? Did the dragons find us and pick us up? Did the foxes use their gates?
"It was" "not us" the fox siblings read from me and I wondered how much poking around they did in my mind while I was defenseless.
"Better to ask the rocks and the trees" "the air and the water."
I was too tired for their riddles. Yet when I looked around, I vaguely understood what they meant. If the foxes were the Gate Keepers with keys and locks, then there must be a door and a door often meant a home of some sort, which meant something resided inside. A gentle wind touched my face, petting my head as it went by. It carried many voices that came and went just as fast as I could prick my ears. The group watched me curiously, unable to hear the sounds.
What did the foxes say? Trees and rocks and air and water? That made no sense because that meant it was the mountain that brought me here. The range itself. Could such things have a Spirit onto themselves? If so, did that mean they could channel the energy of the wild just as us creatures could?
I was beginning to understand the Spirit in ways I never thought possible. Even now, I felt the pack and yet the company I kept was not consistent with the hierarchy or the rules or the species it was made for. Okatie sniffed the hound beside him who in turn, sniffed him back. Hootie Hoot landed on the horns of the second. Lakota took interest when the hound shook the bird off. In her distraction, the foxes came on either side of her to make sure I did not forget to include them in my contemplation.
Menaces, the both of them.
Then, there was Naphtali. The only one I could not find purpose or reason to be with us.
"Why-,"
"Am I here?" Naphtali finished for me.
I was starting to get annoyed with all these creatures speaking for me until I realized every word took the entirety of my breath away. All for questions I already knew the answers too. Naphtali glanced at the foxes and they glanced at her before grinning and bounding away, giggling and waving their tails as if they were 900 years younger. Naphtali must be the new Key Master then. Maybe even the original.
The other two hounds glanced around, reading the air without the foxes help, and left with them. Lakota proved the most reliable. She came beside me with her head down and eyes on the Doom Seer. Cautious of Naphtali yet comfortable with me. She meant to impart knowledge on me so that I would know the truth should the Seer feel so inclined to be as mystical and misguiding as her forbearers.
"Naphtali Doom Seer came to Mother and Father while the others were away after the council," she whispered although there was no need for such secrecy.
Maybe Lakota felt guilty or ashamed that her pack had entertained a Doom Seer after the council declared we would cut ties with them. I might have admonished her on the council's behalf had I not broken that same oath.
"She shared stories of the future with us."
Her simple words provided so much more clarity than all of the clairvoyant present.
"I tell my prophecies to all that will listen," Naphtali promptly corrected, voice full-bodied and unashamed.
I folded my ears and narrowed my eyes. Enough with these hounds and cats and foxes looking down on the Mighty Hena. Our stories made up who we were and without me, they would all be dead. Perhaps this Doom Seer was truly a traitor and needed to learn the lesson of the lost council.
Naphtali cleared her throat.
"But it seems the Chariot hounds were the only ones to get it right."
Was this her way of apologizing?
Okatie stepped closer, tail leaning toward me while his teeth turned in the direction of the Doom Seer. I looked her over a little harder, trying to piece together her motives to no avail. I was no fox or owl. She was a true Seer then, playing to no side but her own, sharing her prophecies to all that would listen regardless of alliance. No wonder she got along with the foxes. She was just as mysterious and self-serving as they were.
Trusting her might be just as dangerous.
I had no way of knowing just how much information she shared with the lost council. Lakota nuzzled my face, pushing that forcibly kind Spirit of hers on me once again so that I winked away my scary face. I looked away. Tensions settled. Her playfulness surged in the vacuum and I bared my teeth at her. It took only a twitch of my lip and she immediately redirected it to Okatie, bowing and jumping into him. Play was a foreign concept to him, especially with a female. He was confused at first, but Lakota was a natural teacher and she egged him into a quick chase towards the hounds and foxes. She glanced back at me only once, showing just how smart she was. I wanted to be alone and Naphtali wanted me alone, but not for the same reasons.
"Mother, I must speak with you," she whispered, so that the others could not hear.
I limped a few steps in the opposite direction, feeling out my body and the damage done by the river. I also felt Naphtali frowning. At least she had enough sense to change the subject as a means of encouraging cooperation.
"You must rest," she sighed, annoyed. The prophetess preferred fresh words to those already spoken. "Your wounds have not healed."
"I have rested enough," I answered with the hopes that a curt reply might cut off the conversation. Doom Seers never cared about my well-being before.
"It's only been a week."
My heart sank far enough to pressure my paws to a stop. It felt as if only a few hours had passed. Had I truly rested for so long only to still feel this way? I was growing old. Older than I realized. That beating in the river. The cold. I should have been dead the first time I went under the ice. I glanced back at my mane, my shadow, at Death. I expected its hands to latch around my neck and squeeze what was left of my soul out of my throat. Instead, I found its hands clasped quietly at the center of my collar bone, hood hiding the lazy snore I swore I heard drifting along with the mountain breeze.
Was Death in no rush because it did not have to wait much longer for me? Did Naphtali see my impending doom and that's what she wished to discuss? It saddened me to think of such things now that I had so much to do. Yet, I was Mighty Hena. I started limping on again, farther away.
"It is one week too many," I replied and I very much wished for Lakota and the foxes to tease me again.
They did not.
I stood alone at the edge of the mountain where the ground began to slope and the ashes had settled, showing off the land in silhouettes of snow so crisp starlight gleaned off of the crystals. It led the way to as far as the eye could see. The breeze picked up at the edge where the influence of the altar was not as strong and the wild winter reminded me of its deadly beauty. It stung my eyes, causing them to tear. I turned away from it. The moment reminded me too much of the lonely cliff on Castle Rock. There were no howls to cry out to me this time, but as I turned away, foxes and Hena filled my vision once more. The stone caught the starlight just as brilliantly as the snow. It created a moat of velvet shadow around the outer edge and a backdrop of stars disorienting in their vastness.
The altar was beautiful in its destruction. Free and open so that the Spirit could flow through it once again. Now, it could breathe easily. The altar's power was weaker without the pillars to centralize it, but such was the touch of one from the grasslands where all was shared. Maybe that's how Exile found me in my dreams. Both of us resting in places of power with shared purpose and past. He must have felt me as I felt him. I wonder what he experienced and why he asked such a question. Then again, the blood moon ritual was powerful enough to connect all places of power in some way.
I hope the Shaman had been watching.
The foxes were only too happy to have an audience no matter the time or place. They chased away Lakota who was playing with the hounds on the stage. She paid no special attention to Okatie just because he was Mighty Hena. He seemed very interested in their behavior, but being much too awkward, he cleared away first. The other young ones quickly followed. The foxes were preparing for a ritual of their own. When they were ready, they stood very still in the center of the stage, purposefully positioned like opposing halves of the same swirling circle. One side light. The other, dark.
I quietly returned to the warmth of their presence to watch the performance. When the stillness drew to perfect length, and all eyes were upon them, the foxes took to dancing. Every motion was slow and simple, but purposeful and highly controlled. They started and stopped in perfect reflection. It was their way of speaking to the Spirit, and their petition, whatever it was, was answered. The Spirit came down upon them. Where I wore mine like a headdress, they wore theirs like fine robes. Tight to the body, but with long sleeves for their tails.
Where I chanted and stepped to a specific drum beat, they fanned their tails and posed to the pluck of a very different tune. I sat down to watch on the opposite side of the stage across from the young ones. Their wide eyes reflected the enchantment of the foxes' silent story. We must all watch carefully because we might not have the chance to do so ever again. This was a very special occasion. Yet not even this stopped Naphtali Doom Seer from using her gifts. She came around beside me and watched the dance like the rest of us, but her mind was far from the vision in front of her. She knew this story, but at least she let me enjoy it a little bit more before speaking.
"They dance to restore power to the altar," Naphtali quietly informed so as not to disturb the ceremony. "As you know, a holocaust burns all within."
She paused, waiting for me to respond. When I did not, she started up again.
"If you try to do those feats again…"
My soul sighed for me. I did not need her to tell me such things. I was old and old things did not last long in the wild. It took a lifetime of blessings and energy and experience to win the battle of the blood moon ritual. The way the Spirit flowed through me changed ever since I became unbalanced. It was glaringly apparent now that I had completely emptied myself of it. The strange explosion of Spirit at the valley river, the odd open emptiness I felt within me. It was as if I had blown apart my capacity for carrying the Spirit just like I did the pillars of the altar. Neither of us had a way of focusing it anymore. Even if I could, I would never be able to perform such overwhelming attacks again because I would need another lifetime to build up the same quality and quantity of energy.
I would never last so long. Even now, pulling the wild for energy was a struggle. My teeth were not the same. They never would be. They burned too hot for too long, damaging the tissue and nerves. They pained me. Time might subdue the sensation, but this ache would never leave me. It would forever remind me of the cost of clapping my teeth at a monster.
The foxes' dance gained speed and complexity. Their timed steps and sweeping paws drew them away from one another. The Red Fox of the Sun suddenly spun away, leaving the Blue Fox of the Moon alone in the center. He froze in proper position. Everything around him suddenly became much darker. Blue flames sprang to life at the tips of his grey and silver tails. The images of shrieking ghosts and thrashing will-o-wisps leapt out at me from my memory, strobing and screaming on this very altar before vanishing like a trick. I carefully exhaled and focused on the Blue Fox of the Moon as he began to dance again. Fox fire moved and burned and glowed in its own unique way. He used his tails to draw lines and shapes made of light in the air. It reminded me of the Fire Ponies in the grasslands and how their fiery manes whipped by when batted by wind and snow and soulless nightmares. How dark it was without them. But even darkness could produce light. In fact, it was only in darkness that the light showed itself.
The fox's light was beautiful, but his lines were nothing compared to the ribbons of light brought to life by the Mighty Hena naming ceremony. I thought of the ceremony's purpose in contrast to this one and even the blood moon ritual. I thought of the names that came with it, the names I learned, even those I brought with me, and those that I lost. I thought of how I was no longer able to call myself Mother of the Grasslands. Soon, I would no longer be able to call myself Mother at all if I did not return to my pack. This unsettled me more than any nightmare or wicked council or frozen river bed. I must go back before I lost my name and myself entirely. No Doom Seer would stop me and Naphtali knew it, so she tried to find something that could.
"The mountains will not let you go after what you have done for them," she pointedly declared as if she had already seen it in one of her prophecies. "They will always need a locksmith, even when the keys are not broken or lost or rusted and others keep watch. The door may not be left open. You have seen what is on the other side. What awaits us if we fail."
Such fancy names and grand destinies. Hounds and their perpetual need to look into the future and warn of the doom that would befall the world if the warnings were not heeded. It was why they first allied themselves with the red eyed shadow backed Mighty Hena in the first place. And it was the Mighty Hena that kept them grounded to the present so that they could live to see such things at all.
"And what of the grasslands?" I finally said. "Am I to abandon them come spring for this new purpose? I have come all this way for them. If I must, I will move the mountains to go back."
Naphtali tightened. Not just because she knew I meant it, but because I was capable of it. I already demonstrated as much coming to the altar after the incident in the river in such space warping fashion. She could not control me or persuade me or convince me. All that was left was to frighten me.
"Mother, you cannot be alone," she said, finally breaking composure to look at me. "You will die without the pack."
I heard it then. How her words tried to placate the dread within herself. A Doom Seer worried about an old Mighty Hena's death? These were strange times indeed. Her worry softened the bite of my reply.
"So be it," I answered.
And yet, with a glance over my shoulder and into the quiet dark, that slumbering death, the shadow of all shadows, I was starting to get the feeling that Death was just as tired of chasing me as I was running from it.