by Megan McCoy
Zyon smirked. “Don’t look so excited old woman. Just because there will be a lot of booze doesn’t mean Jai will be allowing you to drink your fill.”
Owna stiffened at the remark. “Jai is my son-in-law, my boy, not my keeper.”
It was her favorite new catch phrase, when someone threatened her behavior with Jai. Taya’s new husband was young, but had taken his new wife and mother-in-law in hand since the marriage. Owna listened, after he gave her a blistering one morning for making one to many scenes during the celebrations when the group returned home from the Eastern Camp. To his credit, Jai had said nothing of the punishment to others. Owna and Taya had let that private matter be known to Irae, who of course told Zyon. He had been too amused not to tease the older women he had grown a deep affection for. Owna scolded Irae for letting the embarrassing tale out. Jai still said nothing, but they all knew Owna would be much more subdued during these festivities than she had been previously.
“Don’t shoot the messenger. I, myself, rather enjoy your mischievous antics. There is nothing more entertaining than you making a fool of yourself.” Zy chuckled, when Owna just smirked and stuck her tongue out at him.
Zyon was now like a son to her, and despite the blush flooding her cheeks, she loved the tormenting bastard. He was a wonderful husband, and doting father. Irae, Lily and Lucca were fortunate that he had come along. She knew she was as well.
Approaching Charlotte, who was elbow deep in wash, Zyon asked, “Charlotte, may I leave the children with you? Irae is unwell today, and I have some chores to see to.”
Happily abandoning the barrel, Charlotte beamed. “Of course, it is my pleasure, sir.”
“Owna, when you have a few moments, can you deliver my wife some ginger tea and bread? I’m worried she is keeping so little down.” Zy added, “If she’s out of bed at all today, scold her for being so foolish. I warned her already that her nausea will be the least of her worries, if I hear she’s not resting.”
Taya stepped in from outside, bringing with her a gust of wind. “Tis colder than a Malirouse’s heart out there,” she wailed, removing her fur cape and shifting Cleo, who was bound to her chest. “I can scarcely see much of the village; the snow is so high.”
She sashayed to the cradle situated at the mouth of the tipi attached to the hut that sheltered the entry to Peetohwah. It was getting good use, and come spring, even more babes would be nestled within its walls.
Cleo was a good baby. Taya had no issue with laying her down as she delivered another pail of water to her mother.
Their well was deep and tapped into the mountain’s water supply. Even in the depth of this cold, it never froze. Underground hot springs were littered below the village and throughout the mountain. Once the warmth hit the cold, it created an eerie fog around the mouth of the outside water source.
Superstitions often scared villagers, who were prone to passing their long days creating tales to entertain others. Bored by the dreadfully long winter days, when darkness seemed to reign and daylight briefly graced the village with its hibernating presence, it was a breeding ground for those with overactive imaginations to concoct some fictitious tale that sometimes became legend.
Lutta had Iver, and his brothers convinced for years that the well was haunted by warriors who had died in battle. Supposedly, their souls were angry from the violent death they’d met and returned to punish any villagers careless to take true caution when visiting the well.
Tales of spirits rising from the depths to capture those who dared to visit when outside at late hours, were some of the most popular. Men swore they heard the calls of children, screaming for help to draw them closer. Once hypnotized by a ghostly voice, the person was frozen to the ground and then sucked inside.
The stories were really only a means of discouraging villagers from being out late at night, when predators might have slipped passed the guards on duty. With little light, and few armed warriors patrolling, making the people fear the darkness was a way of insuring them to comply with the necessary rules.
The stories cautioned, the only way to save your soul was to close your eyes to the fog and chant a prayer to have the gods protect you from their icy clutches.
A few drunk and stupid villagers, and children, had accidently drowned in the well over the years, allowing for the spirit idea to really flourish in the minds gullible to the fictitious folk tales. The way Iver saw it, the stories did more good than harm. So, he’d allowed the tales to spread into the next generation.
Iver and Illayda normally slept in their rooms in the mountain in the winter, so their summer home was mainly used as a play area for Lily, Lucca and baby Cleo. Come spring and summer, there would be other babies, which delighted the whole family.
Although, the warmer seasons would also mean Zyon, Irae and the Willow Kye would be returning to their part of Insula. First, to the abruptly abandoned camp of Unity, and then their summer village on the beach near the western front. That separation was less welcomed by the brothers and their wives.
The absence of Irae hurt Illayda to think about. However, Syza wanted to remain in Bear Claw with Illayda, which made them both happy. Iver was actively contemplating which of his warriors was worthy of his wife’s only sister.
Ardjan and Syza had shown some positive interactions, so he was encouraging them to explore how well they’d do as a couple. With Vicory dead, Syza needed the protection of a man as strong and beloved by Iver and Illayda. Ardjan was fair-tempered and patient; two qualities that Zyon, Quinn and Iver knew were important for husbands of these strong ladies.
Avoiding Lucca on a fur near Charlotte, Lenah piled the eggs on the table, preparing to put them in a pot over the fire. “Lily, would you like to help me?” she asked smiling.
Illayda placed her niece to the ground and let her go running to her other sister-in-law. “You help Auntie Len make the eggs,” Illayda said with a wide grin. Addressing Lenah, she asked, “I’m going for a little walk, unless you need my help here?”
Lenah shook her head, delighted to have her excited niece looking so happy to assist with the breakfast. “I think Lily and I have this under control. Right, Lily?”
Clapping her hands excitedly, Lily nodded, picking up the spoon to stir as Len cracked the eggs, encouraging her. It was a distraction enough for the other adults to leave. Zyon was surprised at first that his daughter was all right with him leaving. Usually, she was stuck to him when Irae wasn’t around. He felt pleased she was growing used to the others; proud even, at the close bonds she was building with people he also loved.
Walking to the hut door, Illayda’s eyes enlarged as her mouth dropped open. There was so much snow outside it looked like a fluffy white cloud had dropped from the heavens and blanketed the entire village.
Bear Claw was in a valley, which meant that snow accumulated more than what she was used to as a Willow Kye villager. The cold blustery winters on the beach of Insula, were nothing like the vision she now saw before her. Iver and Zyon realized that a bad winter storm had hit through the night, but Illayda had never seen the likes of snow like this.
“What is wrong, sweet?” Iver asked when he realized that his wife had stopped.
“The snow!” she replied, “It could have buried us alive here.”
Iver and Zyon were used to the various dumps of white powder through these winter months and found her reaction odd.
“Hardly,” Zyon said, looking at her as if she was being overly dramatic. “The guards on duty are all aware they need to take turns shoveling paths on nights of heavy falls. It is one of the tasks we punish people with. Many, who chose to remain in the village and not the mountain, maintain their own entrances, but if a young border guard has committed an offense, their supervising guard deals out the added work of clearing paths so the snow doesn’t rise as high. The snow around the shelters is extra insulation from the bitter temperatures, so many other villagers welcome such significant amounts.”
Illayda resumed walking,
mumbling, “Not this villager. It makes me feel like I’m buried with no escape.”
The men laughed, mainly because the snow was not her problem. Illayda could never escape. Iver would search until his dying day to find her, if she dared to try. Then, blister her so soundly she’d give thanks for the icy bank, to help her sit again.
A part of Illayda felt gravely disappointed that the snow was, indeed, a hinderance to her plans for today, but wisely kept it to herself. So far, Iver and Zyon were oblivious of her intentions and she preferred to keep it that way.
Instead of vocalizing her concerns, she began to chastise herself as they walked, for not gathering the supplies she needed to finish making Iver’s Winter Solstice gift before the bad weather swept in. She’d often heard him talk about his father, and how he often smelled of Red Cedar, so, as her gift this year, she was making him a batch of perfumed oil in tribute.
There was just one problem, by the time she settled on a meaningful gift, it was too late to simply go to the forest and find some Red Cedar bark to extract the scent. Red Cedar only grew on the southern side of the island, and she never thought of collecting it when she visited. Strategically, she began to wonder if getting to her parents’ camp would be more plausible.
Lutta would definitely have Red Cedar, and then she could spin the jaunt outside of the village as a daughter’s desire to see her parents, if Iver caught her and demanded an explanation. Her lying skills had greatly diminished, since her husband escalated his tactics in acquiring the truth. One piercing look had her blubbering like a child these days, if she was indeed guilty of deceitful measures.
Iver was like a bloodhound with a scent, when he caught whiff of any indication she was being purposefully vague or evading the truth. The mere thought of his skeptical look made her cunt weep with memory of how persuasive he could be in extracting it.
Depending on the issue, and his mood, he normally began asking questions requiring detailed explanations. However, if he lacked time and patience, he’d simply demand to hear what she was up to or just take her to his knee and start spanking.
Today, she had no time for delaying interference if she was going to get the Red Cedar and set it properly. The Solstice was only two nights away, and for it to truly garner enough scent to make the gift worth such risk, it had to set by tonight.
Judging by the look of the mountainous snow, she contemplated her best course of action. Allowing the men to go off ahead a bit, she trailed behind, biting her nails as she walked.
When Iver noticed, he turned to speak, but a villager caught his attention before the words were spoken. Gesturing, Illayda smiled, encouraging him that she’d catch up.
Illayda, and the other women had never been in Bear Claw for the festivities celebrating the shortest day of the year, December 21st. From the stories she had heard, the event had once been spectacular. Lenah, Charlotte and others sang the praises of the event, and how the Wood Lord people enjoyed the community spirit of the days surrounding it.
There was no work to be done other than the slight decorating and meal preparations. The men were not as busy, since they had usually prepared their gifts and hunts in advance to relax with their families these next few months of snow.
She remembered times from her childhood vaguely, the men chopping down a giant tree and decorating it with colored acorns and bunches of tied winterberries to make the tree burst with joyful merriment. But it had been a much tenser time in recent years in her village. Kavon’s love of wine, and ill temper after its consumption put everyone on edge. Irae had been pregnant with Lucca last year during the Winter Solstice. Illayda and Syza remembered the black eye she was gifted, after Kavon backhanded her in front of the entire village so hard that Kovo had stepped in and ordered him to bed. The chief was not often his daughter-in-law’s protector, but thinking back now, if he hadn’t intervened that night, Lucca may not have been born at all.
A failed hunt and poor feast made for even poorer tempers around their celebratory fire. Irae and Lily had slept with Illayda and Syza that night, and the chief took the responsibility in the morning, keeping his son from further retaliation.
Kavon must have forgotten in his drunken stupor, because when he saw Irae the next day he never spoke a word of what happened. She had deserved an apology, but settled for the silence.
Illayda was never more pleased to hear of another person’s death as she had been of her brother. His tyranny and malice had made their lives hell, but in her reminiscing, she was happy that she knew the evils that laid in some men’s hearts. It made her appreciate her own husband and brothers-in-law, by having such a stark contrast.
To welcome the return of the sun, villagers from both tribes built yule altars, burnt yule logs, gave gifts like crystals and items made from natural materials like wreaths made of yule branches, plant-based candles and seeds to help grow a blessed crop.
It was Iver’s first year hosting the event, and he was excited to lead the meditation circle and encourage growth and peace between the tribes. He decided to hold it in the entry to Peetohwah, just beyond the door that was sheltered by the hut. The space was comfortably large enough to welcome everyone and if the weather was poor, they could still enjoy the festive appreciation of their celebrations.
Dancing, eating and gift exchanges were more pleasurable when they didn’t need to fight with nature.
If it were nice, he would encourage those less inclined to go into the mountain to build their own fires outside. As king, he’d float around the village as much as possible until he was able to sneak off, just as his father King Tybrin before him. Illayda knew the plan; Iver spoke of it to her the night before, when she inquired of how he planned on playing host to such a large group this year.
Once he detailed out his plans, she lovingly complimented him on being such a thoughtful king. It had initiated round two of their love making, before contented and drained they fell into a restful slumber in a slew of intertwined limbs.
While the men saw to the meal preparation, and logistics of hosting two tribes instead of one, the women were busy the last few days with making the sun candles for their altars.
It was a lengthy process. Discarded fat of animals, called tallow, was often used during the winter and mixed in wax extracted from tree nuts. Dandelions were used to help reach a bold yellow color; collected and dried in the summer months, they had lost much of their pungent smell after being littered with pine cones. The strong pine scent added to the candles’ details, making their distinct smell very much a part of the celebration.
It was not the ladies’ first time making the beautiful accessories, but between making the candles, preparing presents and sewing warmer clothing for the winter, they were all nervous about having everything completed before the gift exchange.
Therefore, it was devastating for Illayda, who’d realized just last night that she was missing the Red Cedar. Wanting the first Winter Solstice with Iver to be perfect, she instantly began planning how to acquire the last ingredient for his gift of fragrant soap and oil. She had the beeswax and grape seed oil. Red Cedar was the only choice, since it had the spicy male scent that was purely Iver. If it had been any other time, for any other gift, she would settle for pine, sandalwood or ginger. However, she wanted this first Winter Solstice to be special and the mix of the cherries, ginger and Red Cedar was going to be incredible. She had made herself some apple-scented perfume, knowing Iver loved the fresh fruity smell of her, but the Red Cedar and ginger made the ointment richly masculine. If she failed to acquire some, her planned gift would be ruined.
Iver was lost in conversation, missing his wife’s signal to Odin and Jai. Neither men realized what the queen was going to ask of them as they obediently approached.
“Morning, your Royal Highness,” Odin said seriously.
“Morning, Odin, Jai,” she replied, keeping a close eye on Iver as she spoke. He had moved further away and was now lost in conversation with another flock of villagers. Their rich
and hearty laughter was distinctive, even from the lengthy distance. Decisively keeping her voice low, she felt confident she could speak privately to the border guards who were off duty.
Flicking her eyes to ensure he wasn’t approaching, Illayda’s hazard glance reassured her as his eyes met hers apologetically. She grinned with a shrug, turning her attention back to Odin and Jai, which hopefully satisfied him enough to keep entertaining those who were monopolizing his attention about something or other.
Usually, she found it annoying, but it served its purpose today. “I was wondering if either of you could help me?”
Jai was newly wed to Taya, Owna’s daughter; and he had been around the women enough to know whatever Illayda wanted to discuss without Iver around, meant she was up to something. He folded his arms willing to hear her out, but had already dismissed her request in his head.
Odin, a single man, took the bait quickly, but allowed her to see the suspicion in his face as he responded. “Of course, as a long as the king is aware of what it is you need help with.”
“See that’s the thing, Iver can’t know. It is a surprise for the Solstice.” Illayda smiled, hoping they would see the innocent pleading in her eyes and jump to do her bidding.
“Allow me, Odin.” Jai interrupted before the man could speak. “With respect, anything that states His Majesty cannot know, means you want something that is either too risky or foolish to be asking us, My Queen.” His tone was courteous, but he wasn’t being dragged into a plan that would end in Iver having him caned in the punishment hut.
With Jai’s quick examination of the situation, Odin became wary as well.