Marei - book one. Part one: the call. chapter 2

Still sleeping I brushed away a fly that had landed on my cheek and heard giggles. Assuming I must be dreaming, I snuggled deeper into the warm fur and tried to doze off again but that same pesky fly returned and tickled my nose. I swatted it away and heard more giggles. Opening one eye I expected to see the room I shared with my sisters and brothers but instead found myself staring upwards at my red blanket hanging from the rafters of an unfamiliar thatched roof. More giggles.

Turning my head toward the sound I pried open the other eye to be greeted by the smiling faces of Finn and Browwen’s children. Gavin, looking much cleaner than when I had seen him yesterday, had a mischievous glint in his eye and a long brown feather in his hand. I smiled up at them and they took off running, scattering to the four corners of the cozy house as if they were dandelion seeds in the wind. I yawned and stretched, sitting up and throwing back the soft fur coverlet that had kept me warm all night.

“She’s awake! She’s awake! Mama! Papa! She’s awake!” I chuckled as the children frantically heralded my awakening with shouts and banging doors. Gavin was at my elbow almost immediately with a warm wooden bowl of sugary smelling oatmeal and another hunk of that aromatic bread from the night before.

Smiling and thanking him, I hungrily polished off the oatmeal and started in on the chunk of bread. Looking around me as I chewed I could not see my homemade sandals or my belt and equipment. I stood to look for my belongings just as Finn came through the door.

“Mornin’ lass! Didja sleep well?” He crossed the room and clasped me in a tight bear hug. “I hope ye don’t mind, but me wife and I took the liberty of outfitten ye a wee bit better afore ye be headin off for the day. Browwen’s tending to a birthing in the barn or she’d be here to see ye off herself, but she packed ye up a fresh bundle of food to last ye a week or so.” He handed me a heavy sack with one strap long enough to fit over one shoulder and across my front. Opening the flap that kept the pack closed I found cloths full of venison jerky, more apples, some hard traveling biscuits, and a full round of cheese.

Tears welled in my eyes as I turned to thank him. “No need for thanks, lass. Ye know as well as I do that it’s me duty to assist a Sacred Wanderer in any way possible, whether ye be fully trained, or headed on yer way. Yer story belongs to the Gods now, and it be me honor to assist ye with that tale.”

He reached behind him on a stool and handed me a pair of tall fur lined boots with boiled leather soles. “It also is me part to make sure yer feet will be able to carry ye to where ye need to be goin'. I made them meself. I’m a cobbler, ye see.” He swelled with pride as I lovingly held the boots to my chest. I had never owned anything as finely crafted as those boots and I knew that of all the items I currently owned, this would be the one thing that would ensure that I reached my goal. I slipped them over my bruised but healing feet and felt the warmth and support of the fur and soles surround me and bolster my spirits.

“Thank you, Finn. For everything.” I hugged him goodbye and then the children too. Finn pulled down my blanket from where it had been drying on the rafters and I settled it like a cloak over my shoulders. “Wish the best to Browwen for me.” Finn nodded, and grinned, the lines at the corners of his eyes crinkling merrily.

“When ye get yer trainin’ done, come back and tell us some new tales. We’ll be waitin’ to hear ‘em.” I nodded and tied on the belt with my knife, quiver, bow and water skin and settled the new pack over my right shoulder. With one final farewell, and a young guide back to the orchard where I had spent a cold and miserable night two days ago, I was back on track and optimistic once more.

I traveled onward, walking by day, and hunting when I could find good signs of animal’s tracks to supplement the pack full of travel fare that I now carried. Hunger showed his face on and off for the remainder of the trip, regardless of how careful I was with my stores. He was an unpleasant companion on a constant parallel course who made occasional trips over to see me, find out how I was faring without a steady supply of food. Yet the Gods were kind to me and knew when I was in need, for when Hunger came knocking upon my rib cage and hammering in my throat I would always find food shortly thereafter. Once I happened to chance upon a rabbit asleep in the hollow of a tree stump. I took the time to skin and roast the rabbit before I continued on my way. For the next week, I ate well.

If I passed a house at mealtime, they would often invite me inside for a crust of bread and a dab of fresh milk from the goat out behind the dwelling. The land was still friendly then, not full of the ravages that would shortly befall them at the hands of the invaders. And several times I slept soundly with the horses or goats on a soft fragrant bed of straw in exchange for telling the few stories I knew.

The boots that Finn had made for me were sturdy and strong and despite the hard course I set for myself, they held up to every obstacle I encountered. They kept my feet warm and dry in the rain, and kept me from bruising the soles of my feet on the many rocks on the path. Browwen’s bread lasted only a few days; I ate that first knowing that it was the most likely to get stale or mold. The cheese was next, with the hearty apples and jerky being saved for last.

The moon rose higher and higher in the sky, waxing from a tiny sliver to the full circle and then waning back down to the dark night’s newness. As it started to wax full again I became both excited and nervous. Surely I was nearing my Grandmother’s house. Would she truly be willing to teach me? Was I worthy of the knowledge that she kept? Would I be able to withstand the initiations? Daily I worried about the unknown until I was like to drive myself crazy. When the thoughts of what awaited me after another half moon’s turn became too much for me, I would sing that simple song of Thanks again to remind myself of all the things for which I should be thankful – not the least of which was being called to learn the mysteries.

Two weeks later, as the moon reached it’s monthly zenith in the sky, I could smell a change in the air. I had been to the ocean once before with my Da, though not nearly this far away from home, and I still remember that it smelled like home, though my home had never smelled of salt and brine and wind. I said as much to my Da and he just smiled and ruffled my hair. “Perhaps your home will smell that way when you are older,” his voice rumbled deep in his chest. But I never forgot that sensation and even now as I smelled the distant sea, my heart chanted home home home home home with every beat.

This, then, was the end of my quest. My Ma’s directions had told me to walk until I reached the ocean, then to turn and walk into the rising sun for three days time. On the end of the third day, she told me I would reach the place where the hills rise up, stabbing upward like shark’s fins in the ocean of Earth. Another day past where the hills started, up hill, of course, I would find my grandmother’s home, and my journey would both end and begin.

Two days later, I saw the ocean sparkling in the sunlight, no longer far from where I was. I kept walking and later that afternoon I reached the long sandy stretch of beach that marked where the two elements of Earth and Water met on a daily basis. I found shelter under an outcropping of rock far enough from the surf to not be disturbed by the tides, but close enough so the sound of the waves breaking on the shore would be my lullaby. The sun was setting in a blaze of pink and orange and I recalled a rhyme my Ma would say to me when she was reading the weather: Pink at night is a sailor’s delight. Pink in the morning means sailors take warning.

Happily, both my Ma and the sky were right and the next day was indeed a sailor’s delight; crisp, clear blue sky as far as my eye could see. I slipped off the soft boots that had been my saving grace and put my belongings together in a pile on my blanket. Barefoot now, I approached the lightly rolling waves.

As my feet pressed into the sand, the water held by the sand retreated from my footsteps, as if I was pushing back the tide with my toes. The water surged up the shore and my toes felt for the first time the kiss of the sea. I shivered from the cold and yet I did not retreat, but kept moving closer as the waves lapped higher. Up to my shins now, I dug in my heels and braced myself as the steady give and take of the ocean swirled around my unmoving legs.

A seagull cried and swooped over head in a stark white circle against the cerulean blue sky. That call echoed in my heart as a call of freedom, a cry of triumph and I echoed the sound with a shout to the sky. Joyous now, I wheeled and splashed; kicked the waves as they broke against my legs. I jumped and sang, turned upside down on my hands and kicked my road worn feet into the air. I was here, at the sea, and now the final leg of my journey would begin.

I stayed the night on the beach again under the outcropping where I had sheltered previously. The sound of the surf was soothing and I wanted time to regroup and reflect on the journey thus far before I continued. I had wandered up and down the beach for a time, just until I could no longer see my belongings, and collected quite a pile of dry wood that had been treated by both wind and water. Carefully, I set about with my two sticks, to catch the spark that would bring me fire for the night. Cautiously, and with patience, my efforts were rewarded and a tiny flame burst to life, quickly igniting the other wood I had stacked.

I fed the fire long into the night, preparing myself to finish my quest and begin my trials as an initiate in the Mystery. I cast a small circle and sang again that song of thanksgiving that had been present in my mind almost the entire trip. I had so much to be thankful for – the kind words and hospitality of strangers who did not have to help me, but helped none the less; the strength that I had found, both in my body and in my soul that enabled me to continue instead of turning back; the watchful eyes of the Gods and Goddesses whose presence I had seen and felt in seeming coincidences during every leg of my journey. Whether or not I was able to complete the training before me, I knew that I had learned and grown from this journey and that even now my life and my perspective would never again be what they were when I started out six weeks ago.