To the North

[Stormfollower]

A young and beautifull high elven maid dressed in light and flowing blue robes stands, and with a bow begins to play ethereal cords on an oaken harp. Weaving an itricate dance amoung the seated crowd she sings...

Where dips the rocky highland
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake
There lies a leafy island
Where flapping herons wake
The drowsy water-rats
There we've hid our fairy vats
Full of berries
And of reddest stolen cherries.

Chorus:
Come away, oh human child
To the waters and the wild
With a fairy hand in hand
For the world's more full of weeping
Than you can understand.


Where the wave of moonlight glosses
The dim grey sands with light
By far off furthest Rosses
We foot it all the night
Weaving olden dances
Mingling hands and mingling glances
Till the moon has taken flight
To and fro we leap
And chase the frothy bubbles
While the world is full of troubles
And is anxious in its sleep.


Chorus


Where the wandering water gushes
From the hills above Glen-Car
In pools among the rushes
That scarce could bathe a star
We seek for slumbering trout
And whispering in their ears
Give them unquiet dreams
Leaning softly out
From ferns that drop their tears
Over the young streams.


Chorus


Away with us he's going
The solemn-eyed
He'll hear no more the lowing
Of the calves on the warm hillside
Or the kettle on the hob
Sing peace into his breast
Or see the brown mice bob
Round and round the oatmeal chest.


For he comes, the human child
To the waters and the wild
With a fairy hand in hand
For the world's more full of weeping
Than you can understand.

[Stormfollower]

One after another each revealed a gift. One man rose and spoke his opinon on an number of issues in the unity of the Wolf Cult and he was completely right in his saying. Then rose an old woman and suprised the whole crowd with her offer of cake for all who were still hungry. A great cheer whent up with th e crowd and many exclaimed thier praises for the skill of this baker. A regimented band marched in at one point in the midsts of the individual entertainments, and raised the banner of the great Wolf Cult. Everyone sang its anthem. Then a group of "water weavers" danced up and put on a great display of acrobatic and spectacular arial stunts involving water, Jets spurted and mists plumed and fell in an array of watery explosions of many colours and shapes. A small boy showed off his ballance by climbing the flagpole and performing several darring feats on its top.
All around the merriment continued and each in casual turn took center stage for a while to keep all others in rapt involvement. Each and everyone it seamed had some great song or unique abillity and patiently they hedged each other on with cheers and compliments , raucus laughter and frenzied clapping errupted spontaniously over and over. The Wolf Cult celebrated.

[Stormfollower]

A deeply resonate drum rolls like thunder from the samll cluster of tents off to the side of the celebration. The continuouse motion and noise of the happy crown suddenly ceases and the night is silent but for the long reverberation of the last drumbeat. Again the heavy thunder rolls in the distance and in the dimming light great rainshadows fall from a far away and ominouse storm cloud. All eyes turn to the tents and everyone seams frozen for a moment.
From one richly decorated tent emerges a bent form of some one covered in cloaks and robes of many coloured feathers a richly itricate mask of abalone shells and pearl shards adorns his head, massive silver feathers plume out its back, the whole head dress resemling that of a great silver raven. "Silverbird!" serveral wispers can be heard from the crowd , taught and dry in thier intonations as if aprehensive of this strange being. " I hope he does not lead the dance" ..."another answers "Why would he, Is not Stormfollower amongst us one more?"...Yet another "old fool" and all around hushed voices sound in covert protest. "Why is HE here?" ... " Oh spirits help us not this" ..." And I was having such fun" as the figure slowly shuffles tcloser the wispers stop and all are silent. A path parts in the crowd leaving a large space for wich Silverbird can travel close to the great pile of wood in the center. An owl hoots it smokey song off at the top of a distant Aspen tree its siloette still against the twighlight.
Silver bird makes his way to the center and turns slowly in three circles there before facing the crowd. Through some mechanical means the bird mask opens and closes its beak in time to his voice as he slowly circles the great pile of wood and talks to the crowd. His voice is old and crackling but deep enough to carry far in the stillness of the near-dark.
"Wolf Cult!" He gestures to the crowd wih one of his feather encased arms. "Wolf Cult!" Then again with his other hand. " We gather here in this sacred place for the coming of the Moon-of-New-Horns. The mamoth dance shall be danced and the fire shall be lit." He pauses for an aukwardly long time, not a sound can be heard from the rest of the tribes. "We welcome our newest members of the great sea tribe alliance The-Bear-Looks-Back tribe" pointing a finger at a small nervouse group standing together near him. " The Sumak Peoples, and the Cult of the beaver. Also let us welcome those who have joined the Tribes of the alliance making our numbers swell and our allotment of Power grow with our numbers. We shall speak the oath of the elements to the Tribunal..may they judge us worthy."
The crowd (for the most part) responds. "May we be worthy"
He continues with the oath " We will keep faith until the sky falls apon us and crushes us, until the earth opens and swallows us, untill the seas arise and overwhelam us." The crowd repeats the oath , with only a few younger ones apstaining from the ritual incan tation.
Silver bird turns his mask towards the sky and apeaks louder "The speaking of an oath that calls apon the elements as witness is an act of courage and great trust, there are no greater forces than those of air, fire, water and earth! For these are the enduring powers that shaped this world, When the elements fail the world ends. Our oath sworn to the ending of all things reveals who we are as a peoples. Unknown is wailing or treachery in this well-cultivated land..there has been no sickness, greif, sorrow or death there. In the house of silver jewels and crystals rain, and where the sea washes wave on land, drops of crystal shake from its mane. Since creation we have not aged or decayed in our spirit; We are never sick, for we are free from sin!"
Someone near to Jetamio murmers to her in exasperation "ere we go!"
" A noble pastime: men and women together of all races, Playing pleasant games without competition, Under the bright boughs without blame or guilt!...But still the slaves of the will of Evil lurk! They ready themselves on all the shores of the imperfect south. Gathering an army even now to sail against us here! We must prepare! your efforts in building the Stone Sybil have been great and she is near ready to sail. But this is not enough! Come let us build the ship of the future In an ancient pattern that journeys far. Come let us sail for the Always islands, through seas of leaving to the Summer Star! ..The remeberance speaks of its construction but unlike the swiftly built Stone Sybil this task will be long for the ship of the future must be large enough to carry the worthy to the Always Islands! The Circle must never again be broken! The cycles must draw to us more of the brave to go forth into the south and do our sacre duties." He pauses for a long time seamingly catching his breath. then rises up suddenly screaming " NO ONE OF US CAN DO THIS ..YET ONE OF US MAY UNDO IT, SOMEONE WILL PERISH IN ITS CONSTRUCTION AND ONE MAN SHALL STEAL ANOTHER MANS HAMMER! ALL WILL SUFFER FOR THE SHAME OF THESE THINGS BUT OUR NUMBERS GROW WILD AND FALLOW IS THE FIELD UNTENDED, RISE UP TOGETHER OR FALL IF APART AND EVER THE WIDENING GYRE! EVER THE CIRCLING FATE WIDER AND WIDER HIGHER AND HIGHER! LET NO ONE GO BEYOND THE WAVE WHO IS NOT WORTHY!" two rather large men come nervously out of the crowd and tentatively aproach the flailing figure "THE MOON-OF-NEW-HORNS DOTH RISE" He pints to an empty horizon as the two young men gently hold his arms to his side only to start his legs at kicking them" STORMFOLLOWER IS NOT YOUR SHAMAN! I AM! I AM! SILVERBIRD WAS FIRST! OUR STREAMS ARE IN DANGER OUR LAKES AND TREES SCREAM IN TERROR! HEAR THEM! HEAR THEM!" the two men begin to gently carry the now berserk costumed bird-man towards the direction of the village. "EAST AND WEST OUR LANDS STREACH PRISTINE IN THIER GLORY, A DRAGON CORPSE FESTERS JUST SOUTH, ETES SHALL BLEED EYES THAT DO NOT SEE HAVE NO USE, BEYOND! BEYOND! I MUST FLEE! AAAGHA! AAIGEEAHH!" the madman is carried off his speach becoming uninteligible gibberish at this point. many people shake thier heads in pity as all eys watch Silvebird being carried off now heavily restrained by the two men.
"Stormfolower!" someone speaks and all eyes turn towards the massive wood pile where stands Storfollower in very fancy clothes of animal skins and bird feathers, here and there snakes skins outline cetain areas of beads and quils.
"Goodrain come hither!" His smile is wide as he stands proud, muscles taught under the skins of his beautifull clothes. A tangible tension drops from the sourounding air and the crowd cheers long and loud for thier hero.

[Jetamio]

The madman's ravings had startled her, shaking her to the core. She understood nothing of the Stone Sybil, nor much about these peoples religion but she did not like being told all would suffer for one persons crime. As for sailing away to the Always Islands, that was something she hoped would not happen anytime soon. She had no desire to leave the lands she knew and loved, and she feared the moment Stormfollower might ask her to choose between sailing with him or staying. She put the thoughts out of her mind for now as she watched Silverbird be taken away. She watched for a moment then stood up and called upon them to stop, her clear rich voice carrying out even over the cheers that started for Stormfollower.
Surprised by her actions the crowd hushed and watched as Jetamio walked up to the men who held the flailing old shaman. The two men holding him glanced at each other in curiousity before watching the woman stand before Silverbird. The old shaman seemed not to see her, lost in his ramblings. The crowd silenced as though holding their breaths as Jetamio touched his forehead, her whole form glowing with a very subtle radiance though her face remained quite solemn. For a brief moment her golden eyes flashed brightly with an ethereal presence and the old shaman jerked slightly under her touch and then relaxed completly, no longer fighting the men who held him. She murmured something very softly and gently ran her hand down his forehead and over his eyes as she did so. She then removed her hand and the old man slept peacefully, even being held upright.
She paused, looking over her handywork then took a step back, the radiance fading from her skin and her eyes returning to their normal golden hue.
"I have calmed his mind" she said to the questioning looks, then looked at the men who held him. "Take him to his bed, then rejoin us. He will sleep soundly and without dream until the morning." She suddenly blushed a little at having done what she did without consulting anyone and hoped she had not caused an offence. She stared around the almost silent crowd til her eyes found Storm and she met his gaze with a hint of worry.

[Stormfollower]

Stormfollower flashed her a smile as he beconed Goodrain forward to him, In his eyes, face and posture Jetamio could see he was very proud of what she had done even somewhat amazed perhaps. He looked off into the distance where the old man had been led and shook his head at the simple elegance of the way Jetamio had treated Silverbird. No hint of fear had entered her countenance. She had treated him with respect and dignity as he deserved, Stormfollower was very proud of her actions indeed. But near the epty center of the gathering near the wood he did not catch the near inaudible murmers that reverberated throughout the crowd. "witchery!' many of the old folks were looking in Jetamios direction pointing at her and wispering, while the younger members of the tribe had watched aprovingly once they saw what she was up to with the stilling of Silverbirds mind and then they turned excitedly working their way to the front of the circle to be closer to the spectacle that was clearly about to begin.
As Stormfollower raised the glowing Goodrain above his head He called to the crowd "Let the Dance begin! join in, those who may whence thow feel the spirit move thee! " Storm began to dance at the first beat of a bongo drum, whos player sat near the forward edge of the circle. Shortly thereafter one of the better female singers timed in with a wordless melody. Stormfolloer moved closer to the large pile of wood and began to climb it step by step in rocking rythom to the beat,with the grinning Goodrain held high above his head. At the top of the pile a single unlit fire brand of dry leaved oak branches was weaved into the kindling core of the massive pile. Once they neared the brand Goodrain revealed a small piece of flint wich he sruck with his hunting dagger sending a small shower of sparks at the dry brand. several of the sparks stuck and began to spread across a few leaves. Goodrain , his head now close to the oaken torch, blew on the sparks as they grew and consumed the fragile skins of the dry oak leaves, but as quickly as the smoldering sparks had grown to the size of a small apple they one by one becan to die out having consumed most of the leaves in that area of the torch, a quiet "awww" Began to stir trough the crowd and then suddenly creshendoed into a loud "Ahhh!" followed by cheers aplause and laughter as a gentle breeze wafted into the sparks from the direction of Jetamio and flames sprung to life on the top of the wood pile. Stromfollower placed Goodrain on his feet at the top of the pile still dancing out a rythm they both nimbly vaulted down the side of the pile. Goodrain headed into the crowd delighted with himself while the overjoyed shaman began to dance alone in fantastic depictions of wildlife around the now growing bon-fire.
Most eyes and fingers of the old had ceased thier acusitory speculations apon Jetamio. Most that is but for two well aged women who stared dissaprovingly still in her direction. Several armspans away from the bobbing crowd.

[Jetamio]

She visibly relaxed when Stormfollower smiled at her, but it was short lived. Where his ears did not pick up the murmer, her senses were elven. She stared around the crowd, looking for the accusers but they refused to meet her golden gaze. But then she remembered that the northern tribes did not have Druids native to them, and so anything she did would seem out of place, wether it be conventional Druid abilities or her own other 'gifts'. Who would know any different? She decided to ignore them and turned her attention to the dance.
They were trying to light the last unlit brand, but in the still twilight the young flames were reluctant to take hold. She glanced around again, but most peoples eyes were on the spectical before them. She touched the Druidic magic within her and whispered a word again, foregoing the usual sparkly displays of most peoples spell casting. Her skin did not take on the faint radiance, and her eyes did not flash though they shone in the firelight. A soft, warm breeze eminated from her, winding its way over to the brand and caressing the smolders into flames. The crowd seemed pleased, for the moment forgetting their suspicions as they watched the two jump down, and Stormfollower continued to dance alone.
She stood as entranced by his dance as the others did, the passion displayed here matched only by his passion alone in private with herself. She watched his every mesmerising move, every fibre in her being calling out to join him in his wild dance. But she had already acted out of custom once this evening, wether her husband approved or not and she dared not further incite the disapproval any further. She was not one of them afterall, despite marrying their Leader. Acceptance was one thing one had to earn themselves.

[Stormfollower]

His dance whent on and on. He circled and whirled, stopping ocationally infront of one person or another. Each person whould respond to his dancing with a few moves of there own. Stormfollower would make a guick parting manouver and then move on to tthe next person. It seamed some form of comunication were taking place and everyone was in on the conversation but for one person. Jetamio could clearly see that this dance whent far deeper in meaning than what lay on its surface. No one joined in right away and Stormfollower danced on for hours before finally someone did. A young and beautifull nothron female took many long rythmic strides into the center where Stormollower moved to the strange tonal singing of the three part harmony that had started with the one voice. Two other females of the nothron tribe had joined in with the fist and thier voices reached into the heavens. And the drumming whent on leading fast and then suddenly slow dictating each step and note of the primal performance.

[Stormfollower]

She moved with the sinuouse grace of a cat. She circled the fire and Stormfollower simotaniously, matching his orbit around the periphery of the dance floor and adding to it her own orbit around him. Stormfollower smiled wide and looked straight into her eyes with obviouse delight and familiarity with her dance. He now whirled in ever tighgtening spins watching he steps and leaps with keen attention. The crowd cheered and reveled at each greater spin and leap and a harp burst into excited playing. Hear and there people had taken to tapping there feet loudly or banging sticks and rocks, enough voices had joined the wordless song as to make a small quire. And everywhere smiles beamed up into a starry moonless night. Soon a few more women joined in and took over the escapades from the heavily breathing first two dancers, and then finally anouther male joined in untill after more endless whilrls and leaps a large throng now undulated and pulsed as one rythmic entity in the center of the now equal number of onlookers.

[Stormfollower]

Long into the morning the dance continued untill one by one exhausted members dropped from the dance..the last to leave of corse was Stormfollower. By this point he had stripped down to his breach clout and was soaked head to bare feet in sweat. Without further word or ceremony the crowd began to wander back to the village proper. Stormfollower aproached Jetamio whiping his sweat soaked hair from his eyes.
"Come my love." His breathing still hard from the nights exersion.
"We travel north to the rock of binding." With a great smile he takes her hand lovingly in his and leads her away from the camp.
All the while the watchfull eyes of the two old women followed them with suspision.

[Stormfollower]

Grabbing the white, heavily beaded, buckskin suit he had worn when the dance began he deftly threw it on but left the ties loose. His feet were still bare but he seamed not to mind as he trudged, Jetamio in hand, undaunted into the pine forest.
"So Jetamio, What dost thow think now? Didst thow enjoy fully the feast of the moon of new horns?" He grinned like a child at play. In the glow of the morning sun his eyes glinted, his soul on fire.

[Jetamio]

She smiled, enjoying the peace of the forest after the crowds. "I enjoyed it, though I am not sure I understand it all. Your culture is quite different from mine."
She glanced behind them towards the camp and frowned slightly. "I am not sure some of them approve of me, some called me a witch." She looked back into his eyes, and couldnt help but smile again despite her misgivings, seeing that glint in his eyes.

[Stormfollower]

"Pay no attention to the old ones, They have had thier day and are now jelouse of the new ways of our tribe. Many of them still wish for Silverbird to lead the dances!"
He laughs easily and picks Jetamio up in his arms. Setting into a jog he begins to carry her through the well worn paths of the forest. Hastening towards the distant shores on the north side of the island. Many animals look up from thier ways yet observe tamely the silent running of the agile shaman.
They reached the shore within an hour. Jetamio was placed unceremoniously onto the sand shores of the northern coast. It was a much warmer day than the previouse one but a strong breeze whipped up the waves into high waves over the wide straight between them and a gigantic looming mountain.
"Chomolangma" Stormfollower gestured to the colosal mountain.
A small catamaran boat lay on the beach near the path from wich they had exited the woods. Its sail was rolled tighly around the mast of the vessel and a long flag whipped violently about in the strong winds.

[Jetamio]

Jetamio's stomach tightened at the sight of the boat. She never had been very good travelling by boat, it always left her feeling sick. Oh well, she thought to herself, when we get to the other side we can travel my way. She glanced at the shaman with a mischievous smirk.

[Stormfollower]

"Come, there is a hotspring around the corner. We can rest there for a spell while we wait for the wind to pick up." He grabbed Jet by the hand and raced with her across the beach towards the giant rocks that obscured the hot springs from them.

[Jetamio]

Jet whispered an incantation as they ran, still grinning as they changed into wolves, she her normal shaggy black wolf, Storm's colouring more like the native colours of the Northern wolves. Once fully in wolf form she burst into a full sprint across the beach.