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Authors: Patricia Rowe
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Sorrows almost destroyed us.
She heard the voice of Raga in her mind:
Rising Star, think only good thoughts when you are with spirits.
Tenka sent her mind drifting. Inside the stone circle—wrapped in rainbows, flecked with stars—time flowed like the Great River,
with nothing to mark its passing. How long had it been since Ashan’s screams started the strange events? Tenka opened her
eyes. Upriver, in the direction Where Day Begins, gray softened the sky.
The morning of the fourth day.
“Oh please, Amotkan, let it end, I’m only thirteen summers, and I’m so tired… ”
Tenka realized she was whining out loud. But no one heard. Only Tor and his boy were here. It wasn’t light enough to see them,
but she smelled them sleeping.
From time to time others had come to the stone circle—people of both tribes. Staring at the Moonkeepers, they talked quietly,
shook their heads. Tenka pretended not to see them, and after a while they would leave.
Tor had been here the whole time… as he should… he was Ashan’s mate.
Except for the first day, when I thought he’d never come back.
Tor had solved the immediate problem by taking people away—Tenka didn’t know where he’d taken them, and didn’t care. But he’d
stayed away too long. It got dark. Alone with lifeless Ashan, and the rumbling of the monstrous river, and a coyote howling
somewhere too near, Tenka had been forced to fight childish fear. That was no way for a Moonkeeper to behave, even one called
the
Other.
Tenka wondered
why
her brother had left them. Anything could have happened—wolves coming up the river, or bats swooping down from the sky—
The Other Moonkeeper put the fearsome thoughts out of her mind. She had enough to worry about, just taking care of Ashan.
Tenka had gone without sleep, making sure Ashan was shaded from the sun and warm under the moon and, most important, never
alone. She dripped water and medicine tea onto Ashan’s lips, taking no nourishment for herself: A hungry shaman focused at
her best.
This was the hardest part: With the power of her mind, Rising Star must keep Whispering Wind part of
this
world, so she could find her way back. It wasn’t easy. There were many distractions, especially the strangers with their
strange talk. But as always Tenka did her best. It must have been good enough.
On the fourth morning of her second death, earthly life stirred in Ashan… a miracle witnessed by Tenka, Tor, Kai El, and a
few others who had just come to look.
Amotkan was gone. Raga was gone. The Shahala Moonkeeper Ashan was alone in the endless sky. It was time to go back. Ashan
smiled at her choice of word, for here, “time” as people understood it did not exist. Still, she began to pullin her web, returning through air that was rainshower fresh, taking time to enjoy the marvelous creations she passed.
Ashan saw light outside her eyelids… not spirit light, or exploding stars, but ordinary morning light. She took long breaths
of cold air, sharp with juniper smoke. Heard rivernoise, chirping birds. And voices… unclear, without threat. She didn’t strain
to understand. Enough to lie here and enjoy living bone, breathing flesh, warm blood pulsing.
Thoughts… she could catch only fragments, an end or a middle. Thoughts should be a blend of pictures and words. The pictures
in her mind were right, but the words for them were wrong… not even words she knew, just sounds shaped like words. Her mind
was speaking but could not understand itself.
Am I caught between worlds? Is part of me still out there flying with spirits?
A
picture of her son formed against her lids.
Kai El,
she thought, and word matched picture.
Where
was
her son?
Ashan sat up and opened her eyes. Squinting in the brightness, she saw Tenka staring at her, openmouthed.
As if,
Ashan thought,
she yah ah itchnikai sees a ghost.
She had to smile: that’s just what Tenka was seeing. Ashan didn’t know how long she’d
She heard the voice of Raga in her mind:
Rising Star, think only good thoughts when you are with spirits.
Tenka sent her mind drifting. Inside the stone circle—wrapped in rainbows, flecked with stars—time flowed like the Great River,
with nothing to mark its passing. How long had it been since Ashan’s screams started the strange events? Tenka opened her
eyes. Upriver, in the direction Where Day Begins, gray softened the sky.
The morning of the fourth day.
“Oh please, Amotkan, let it end, I’m only thirteen summers, and I’m so tired… ”
Tenka realized she was whining out loud. But no one heard. Only Tor and his boy were here. It wasn’t light enough to see them,
but she smelled them sleeping.
From time to time others had come to the stone circle—people of both tribes. Staring at the Moonkeepers, they talked quietly,
shook their heads. Tenka pretended not to see them, and after a while they would leave.
Tor had been here the whole time… as he should… he was Ashan’s mate.
Except for the first day, when I thought he’d never come back.
Tor had solved the immediate problem by taking people away—Tenka didn’t know where he’d taken them, and didn’t care. But he’d
stayed away too long. It got dark. Alone with lifeless Ashan, and the rumbling of the monstrous river, and a coyote howling
somewhere too near, Tenka had been forced to fight childish fear. That was no way for a Moonkeeper to behave, even one called
the
Other.
Tenka wondered
why
her brother had left them. Anything could have happened—wolves coming up the river, or bats swooping down from the sky—
The Other Moonkeeper put the fearsome thoughts out of her mind. She had enough to worry about, just taking care of Ashan.
Tenka had gone without sleep, making sure Ashan was shaded from the sun and warm under the moon and, most important, never
alone. She dripped water and medicine tea onto Ashan’s lips, taking no nourishment for herself: A hungry shaman focused at
her best.
This was the hardest part: With the power of her mind, Rising Star must keep Whispering Wind part of
this
world, so she could find her way back. It wasn’t easy. There were many distractions, especially the strangers with their
strange talk. But as always Tenka did her best. It must have been good enough.
On the fourth morning of her second death, earthly life stirred in Ashan… a miracle witnessed by Tenka, Tor, Kai El, and a
few others who had just come to look.
Amotkan was gone. Raga was gone. The Shahala Moonkeeper Ashan was alone in the endless sky. It was time to go back. Ashan
smiled at her choice of word, for here, “time” as people understood it did not exist. Still, she began to pullin her web, returning through air that was rainshower fresh, taking time to enjoy the marvelous creations she passed.
Ashan saw light outside her eyelids… not spirit light, or exploding stars, but ordinary morning light. She took long breaths
of cold air, sharp with juniper smoke. Heard rivernoise, chirping birds. And voices… unclear, without threat. She didn’t strain
to understand. Enough to lie here and enjoy living bone, breathing flesh, warm blood pulsing.
Thoughts… she could catch only fragments, an end or a middle. Thoughts should be a blend of pictures and words. The pictures
in her mind were right, but the words for them were wrong… not even words she knew, just sounds shaped like words. Her mind
was speaking but could not understand itself.
Am I caught between worlds? Is part of me still out there flying with spirits?
A
picture of her son formed against her lids.
Kai El,
she thought, and word matched picture.
Where
was
her son?
Ashan sat up and opened her eyes. Squinting in the brightness, she saw Tenka staring at her, openmouthed.
As if,
Ashan thought,
she yah ah itchnikai sees a ghost.
She had to smile: that’s just what Tenka was seeing. Ashan didn’t know how long she’d
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