Paragenesis: Stories of the Dawn of Wraeththu (36 page)

Raven had another reason to
hate Wraeththu. His mother had been killed by marauding Uigenna
intent on sport. Raven had been only twelve. He had gone out
looking for her when she failed to return from foraging for healing
herbs. From behind a tree he’d heard the Uigenna depart, laughing
and boasting of their triumph. Fearing the worst, he’d ventured
into the clearing. Not much remained, but what did left him in no
doubt that it was his mother. He gathered what was left and
returned to his people so that she could be honoured and given the
burial rituals that were her due.

High in his tree the memories
smouldered and flared inside him. Even through his mist of hatred,
Raven had to admit this Wraeththu tribe were not like the Uigenna
and Kheops raiders he had, so far, encountered.

For ten days he had watched
them. Raven had seen that these Wraeththu, although clearly not of
this land, had a great affinity for it and were closely in tune
with the turn of the seasons. Their clothing, surprisingly
practical and highly adaptable, reflected this closeness in the
earthy greens, browns and dark oranges they favoured. Like the
Mountain People they chose to wear their hair long and loose.

A few days previously they had
celebrated the Summer Solstice with feasting and dances. And when a
vicious thunderstorm had suddenly blown up, they had known of its
coming and had secured their camp.

Hate them though he did, these
Wraeththu intrigued Raven.

But time was passing and his
people were expecting him. It was time to cut short his musing. He
slipped silently out of the tree and melted into the forest. During
the hour hike back to his home on the edge of the old reservation,
he caught a couple of cottontail rabbits and gathered some yellow
dock leaves.

At the edge of the old
reservation stood an old log cabin, Raven’s home since his parents
died. The cabin belonged to the Elder Two Comet. Outside a smoking
fire pit was tended by Pale Fawn, another orphan adopted by Two
Comet. Close to Raven in age, she was his dearest friend. She
looked up as he approached, her dark hair falling back from her
face as she smiled in greeting.

As was their custom, they set
to work preparing the evening meal together, singing the ancient
songs of their people as they worked. Raven skinned and gutted the
rabbits, throwing the entrails to the half-wild dogs that hung
about on the edge of the reservation. Pale Fawn put a pot of water
on to simmer and prepared the vegetables.

Later, once the meal was
prepared, Two Comet joined them, responding to Pale Fawn’s call. A
proud elderly man with gentle and wise eyes, his hair now grey and
much of his physical strength gone, he retained an equal measure of
dignity and humility.

They sat, cross-legged, on rugs
surrounding the fire pit and shared stories of their day. Two Comet
had officiated at a ceremony to bring good fortune to a couple
trying desperately for a child, while Pale Fawn had spent much of
her day gathering healing herbs and visiting the sick. At length
Two Comet turned to Raven.

“Well now, my son, and have you
spent your day observing your new friends?”

Raven gave a derisive snort.
“Friends!” he spat.

Two Comet shook his head with
amusement. “Raven, my son, you seem to spend so much time watching
them, I can only assume you wish to befriend them.”

“Wraeththu!” Raven uttered the
word as if it left a sour taste in his mouth. “Killed my mother…
stole my friends… stealing our world… robbing us of…”

“I am well aware of your
feelings, my son.” Two Comet’s gentle but firm tone cut right
across Raven’s habitual rant. It was an old argument, often
repeated. Pale Fawn rolled her eyes.

“Tell me what you have seen.”
Two Comet continued. “Be honest and leave out nothing.”

Unwillingly, as if the details
were wrung out of him, Raven spoke of what he had seen. This group
of Wraeththu
was
different. Not like the Uigenna or Kheops.
They had their own ceremonies and celebrated their own sacred
times. They had an affinity for the land, although clearly they
were not from this land. Raven admitted, grudgingly, that these
hara intrigued him.

Two Comet listened intently. At
the end of Raven’s story he lowered his eyes, pursed his lips and
inhaled deeply. Raising his eyes to look directly at Raven he said,
“My son, I think you should join these Wraeththu. I think you
should willingly become one of them.”

Raven was on his feet in an
instant, screaming at Two Comet. He would never become Wraeththu,
never. He was a Mountain People Tribesman – a member of the Wolf
Clan – a warrior and protector of the people. He would die before
betraying his heritage. Pale Fawn placed her hands over her ears
and closed her eyes tightly.

“Noble as that sentiment is, my
son,” said Two Comet to Raven’s departing back, “there is little
point being a warrior and protector of the people when soon there
will be no people to protect.”

As Raven’s angry footsteps
disappeared into the forest, Pale Fawn removed her hands and opened
her eyes. She regarded Two Comet gently.

“Don’t worry,” she smiled, “His
temper is hot but it’s always short lived.”

Two Comet gave an exasperated
snort. “A fire cracker that one – always wasting his energies on
the unimportant!” He shifted his rug and made himself more
comfortable.

“But now, my daughter, let’s
take tea together. I have much to discuss with you.”

Raven marched unheeding through
the forest as dusk gave way to darkness. A red-mist shrouded his
eyes and black thunderclouds boiled in his heart. As usual in these
circumstances, his feet led him to the place where his mother’s
bones were laid to rest. It was one place where he always found
peace. He sat beneath the tree that honoured her and exhaled
slowly. Gently her essence seeped into him, calming him and slowing
his racing thoughts. She stayed with him throughout the night as a
battle raged within him. She crooned and soothed and gave
wisdom.

As dawn crept along the eastern
horizon like a golden skein, Raven made his decision. The dawn
brought clarity and his remaining doubts fled with the departing
night.

Raven sat beneath his tree a
while longer. He watched the sun erupt from the horizon and
illuminate the forests he knew so well. A new life was unfolding
before him, one he had never even allowed himself to dream of. But
the desire had been there, he had to admit that to himself now.
Sunlight shone through the mists in numerous gauzy hues, the
occasional pointed crown of a pine tree standing stark against the
illuminated cloudscape. The entire landscape crackled with energy
and power; Raven drank it in greedily.

He returned to the reservation
just as Pale Fawn was serving breakfast. A place had been set for
him in his usual spot by the fire pit. Pale Fawn handed him a
couple of boiled eggs and some freshly baked corn bread. Raven
nodded his thanks and turned to Two Comet, who eyed him impassively
through the smoke of his pipe.

“I agree,” said Raven, simply.
He didn’t need to say anything else.

Two Comet’s face broke into a
thousand wrinkles as he smiled. “This is good, my son. For though
you are Wolf Clan and warrior and protector of you people, you are
also warrior and protector of tradition. We live in strange times –
and we must find strange solutions to the problems that trouble
us.”

Two Comet closed his eyes, “You
know I have the gift of foresight – for I am Wild Cat Clan – seer
and protector of the earth. There is no future for the Mountain
People, save the one we create for ourselves. You must carry your
tradition to a new tribe who will accept and value it. To the new
tribe of Wraeththu who have come to our forests.”

He inhaled deeply and looked
directly at Raven, “But before you do this – there is one more task
you have to perform for the Mountain People. There will only be one
more child born to this tribe. It will be carried by Pale Fawn and
you will be its father. I will carry out the ceremony to ensure a
successful conception.”

“But Two Comet,” interrupted
Raven, “what chance of success do we have? Only yesterday you
carried out the same ceremony for Red Bear and Nuna – and they’ve
been trying for months.”

“And it is hopeless,” sighed
Two Comet. “But who am I to rob them of their hope? They will come
to acceptance in time. For you and Pale Fawn it is different – I
know this.”

“How can you know?” asked
Raven.

Two Comet looked heavenwards in
exasperation, “Raven, my son, you set too much store in magic. Pale
Fawn has lived with me since she was a young girl. I know her
cycles. This is her time.”

“How do you feel about this?”
Raven asked Pale Fawn.

“I have my own path to walk.”
Pale Fawn replied. “For I am of the Clan of the Wind – like you a
keeper of tradition but also a teacher. I should very much like to
walk my path with your child.”

Raven chewed on his corn bread,
“Seems it’s all decided then,” he shrugged.

“You better believe it,” Pale
Fawn chuckled.

For the rest of the day Raven
and Pale Fawn sat on a rug by the fire pit close but not touching.
Two Comet burned herbs around them, sprinkled them with blessed
water, hummed and chanted incantations. They joined in the chanting
at times that seem appropriate. By the evening they were both
light-headed and deep in a meditative state.

Two Comet kissed them both on
the brow. “I shall spend the night close to your mother’s bones,”
he said. “We were good friends and I’ve neglected her company for
far too long. Make good use of my cabin.” With that he walked off
into the gathering dusk.

The two young people both rose
to their feet. Pale Fawn smiled uncertainly. Raven returned the
smile, took her hand and led her into the log cabin. Inside they
lit oil lamps, softening the light by draping coloured rags. They
laid animal hides on the floor and surrounded them with
cushions.

Raven removed his clothing and
did a twirl. “Well, you might as well see what you’re getting!” He
laughed.

Pale Fawn smiled and placed his
hands on the lacings at the front of her dress. “You do it,” she
said.

Raven became more serious. It
wasn’t his first time but it was, he knew, hers. She deserved
better than flippancy. Gently he undid the lacings and eased the
dress to her shoulders. She shrugged and the dress fell to the
floor. Underneath she was naked and she was beautiful. He had not
noticed before.

Raven felt the breath catch in
his throat. He ran his hand the length of her arm and interlaced
his fingers with hers. He raised her hand and kissed her palm. She
led him to the pile of animal hides and he lay down beside her.

For a while they caressed,
stroked and became familiar with each other in a completely new
way. When the time seemed right, Raven moved over her and found his
way inside. She gasped slightly, her eyes widening, then she
relaxed against him and they rocked gently together. Together they
found a climax, and afterward together they lay spent on the
floor.

Several times that night they
made that journey. In the early hours of the morning they lay in
each other’s arms, covered in a blanket to keep out the night’s
chill. Pale Fawn slept with her head on Raven’s shoulder. Raven,
wide-eyed and awake, stared into the darkness.

It was always like this.

The intensity of his encounter
with Pale Fawn was made all the more poignant by the knowledge of
their imminent separation. He loved her dearly. She was the closest
thing to family he had; they had been friends longer than he could
remember. But it wasn’t just their separation that bothered him; it
was the feeling of incompleteness. Whether with men or with women
he always felt deep down that sexual encounters could be so much
more than they were. The union could be on so many more levels. So
much magical energy was created only to dissipate unused. If only
it could be harnessed, channelled. He knew all this instinctively
but had no idea how to bring these things to fruition.

Pale Fawn stirred in her sleep.
Raven stroked her hair, kissed the top of her head, soothing her to
stillness once more. He revelled in being this close to her, the
night scent of her hair, the bliss of her skin against his. He was
going to miss her more than he dared think about. He closed his
eyes and held her a little closer. Eventually sleep claimed him,
too.

It was well after dawn when
they woke. A few more kisses, a few more caresses, then by unspoken
agreement they returned to a state of companionable friendship. The
cushions and animal skins were cleared away, the coloured rags
removed from the lamps. To all intents and purposes it was just
another day.

Raven stoked the fire, Pale
Fawn set about making the breakfast, and somewhat later than
expected Two Comet returned from the forest.

“I’d forgotten what a talker
your mother was,” was all he would say.

They shared their usual
companionable breakfast and then Raven went away quietly to pack. A
few things only, cast into a striped canvas haversack. He chose his
best boots to wear, brushed leather trousers and the fringed shirt
of russet and green that Pale Fawn had made him in the spring. He
left his hair loose but plaited in the coloured feathers that
signified his tribe and clan.

He rejoined his companions at
the fire pit. Two Comet, sitting comfortably on his rug, looked up
at him.

“You look well, my son.”

“A fine Mountain People
tribesman,” agreed Pale Fawn. “Any tribe would be proud to count
you in their ranks.”

Raven took her hands in his,
kissed her fingers and pulled her into a fierce hug.

“You take care of yourself,” he
said and slid a hand over her belly, gripping slightly, “and of
this one too.”