Atahr arrived at the edge of the woods, and perched himself atop the scattering of fallen trees lining the beach. Gasping for breath and doubled over with cramps, his eyes had not once left the wide blazing trail that now stretched along the swath of beach before him. He could see the evidence-- the spattering of blood intermingled with broad foot prints left by Bahr-Bahr hunters in pursuit of his beloved Jayah. It was enough to fire his adrenaline and provide a second wind.
The Bahr-Bahr hunters that had been stationed to guard the west side of the cliff had taken it upon themselves to leave the moment they became aware that the winds had change and dark clouds were now precariously close. Although their sign languages were entirely different, the Bahr-Bahr and Dykelander's had similar beliefs-- a set of strict rules proclaimed by their deity, many of which consisted of instructions on where to be ... and not be, during certain times. It was more than clear that all were to avoid the beach when a storm lingered overhead, or prepare to suffer the wrath of their deity. The more fearful of the group headed straight for the woods, with only three of the braver hunters, after concluding that Dorag and his hunting party had been unable to see or feel the sudden change of wind while clambering up the sheltered side of the outcrop, took it upon themselves to brave the danger and proceeded up the pass to warn their comrades of the danger.
Atahr was aware of the storms approach, but fear for Jayah's safety was his only concern. He was about half way up the cliff and moving as fast as he dared when the lightning struck and shook the entire outcrop, nearly dislodging him from his precarious position. Regaining his hold he continued on, taking a brief moment to look below, and be filled with surprise and hope to see so many of his clan scaling the cliff.
Atahr rolled himself over the top and jumped quickly to his feet, loosing the spear secured to his back, ready to take on any Bahr-Bahr standing in his way. Moving through the mist and stumbling over a scattering of debris and dead bodies, he followed the sound... toward the whimpering wail of a new born infant... and hopefully to Jayah.
Jayah lay motionless, her tunic, bloodied and Atah could not detect any sign of life-- she was deathly pale and her chest neither rose nor fell, he put his ear to her lips and felt nothing. Atahr cradled Jayah in his arms, wiping the still fresh tears from her face before burying his own tear streaked face into the crook of her neck.
Others and then soon Yahnnah arrived atop the knoll, despite her age and arthritis, she still ranked as one of the Clans best climbers. She approached Atahr and tried to coax him away from Jayah, but he held tight. Then grabbing a fist full of his hair she forcibly pulled his head back so he could read the signs produces by her gnarled fingers.
“Atar, move away from Jayah so I can tend to her,” Yahnnah commanded.
“Is she still alive then?” hope filled Atahr's eyes.
Yahnna with all of her experience new at a glance that Jayah was still alive but lay perilously close to the spirit world and close to death, she dared not waste valuable time to answer Atar. Within moments she had discovered where Jayah had was losing blood … a long deep tear from the difficult birth. It didn't look good, even if the bleeding could be stopped, there was still a high risk of infection. Opening the bag attached to her belt Yahnnah removed a small tightly wrapped package, inside was an awl, delicately chiseled from ivory and a length of fine, almost transparent sinew.
Yahnna was adept as healer and with a precision honed by years of experience she closed the wound with intricate stitches. The stitches took effect and so the worst of the blood loss slowed to a trickle, but so much blood had been lost, leaving Jayah so badly dehydrated that even a trickle posed dangerous. If Jayah didn't soon awaken to take in fluids she would soon die. Yahnna again reached into her medicine pouch and pulled out another small tightly wrapped parcel no bigger than the tip of her thumb, she opened it to reveal a white powder and to this she added a few drops of water and then held the acrid smelling mixture just below Jayahs nose.
There was a slight response as Jayah's eyes flickered weakly, giving hope to all who stood near, but there was no light... no sign of life in her eyes and Yahnnah knew at that moment, just how dangerously close Jayah was to entering the spirit world and to the point of no return. Yahnna raised her water bag and let a slow trickle flow between Jayahs parched lips. Still no response.
A young woman, Shara, the newest member of the Salmon clan and mate to Jaron had found the infant who was now swaddled in soft tanned fish hide, and Yahnnah beckoned for the child. Yahnnah opened the swaddling and lay the child across Jayah's breast and then lay the covering atop them both for warmth, never taking her eyes off Jayah's face in hopes of any sign of life.
Jayah was at the border of the spirit world, her being had filled with a peace and love she had never experienced before and she felt herself being drawn closer... and then she felt something else... something familiar -- a different swarmth, she felt the little movement... the soft nuzzling of her baby's face moving against her breast... seeking. Her baby needed her... Atahr, Zoran and Yahnna needed her... her clan needed her.
The sudden intake of breath surprise all who waited nearby... it was the dead coming back to life. Yahnnah went to work, propping Jayah up enough so that the drops of water would settle at the front of her mouth and encourage her to swallow.
Within moments Jayah was revived enough to take in a larger quantity and Yahnna smiled to see color come back to her cheeks and the light of life back into her eyes… she was weak, but alive.
Yahnnah watches as Atahr held Jayah, savouring the precious tender moment. Love was the best medicine now. Yahnnah was so tired as she turned her attention to the clans woman, Shara, who nudged nervously at her side. What could possibly be so pressing?!
Shara bowed her head, not wanting the task of having to enlighten Yahnnah, but it was urgent and so she took it upon herself to do so. Her sign was broken and full of emotion.
"The child... Yahnnah... he... she... ", Shara was unable to continue, and she didn't have to. Yahnnah knew that there was something about the baby that the young woman was having trouble conveying. Yahnnah immediately turned her attention to the soft suckling sound of Jayah's baby laying next to her breast and still covered by the swaddling.
No one thought it unusual when Yahnnah collected the infant, or that she made sure that the swaddling remained in tack ... covering the infant while doing so. After all, it was the duty of the head Shaman to fully inspect the baby after the cord was cut. Yahnnah took the new born aside and after careful inspection, bestowed her thanks to Ayah for such a gift... one that she knew some of their clan would not be able to see in the same light. Some babies would be returned to Ayah if considered to be hopelessly damaged, Yahnnah was determined that this would not be the case.
Despite the pains of life, and including the loss of a loved one, it was believed by the Dykelander peoples that all things in the universe worked toward a future good, and even though it may not be apparent at the time, they would one day reach a level of maturity to know more fully. It was for this reason that the Dykelander's strove to learn and have a better understanding of their world and the workings of their Deity every day.
In the small world of the Dykelander people, a child born belonged to a four tiered guardianship system… first to Ayah, second to the Tribe, third to the Clan and fourth to the parents. The Shaman would have the first say as to the status of the child… Yahnna would be the first to interpret the will of Ayah as to whether the child was meant to live or be returned to Ayah.
When Yahnna returned she beckoned for Atahr. Jayah was awake, fully aware now of all that had transpired... and anxious to see her baby, but as was customary of the Dykelander tribe, she would have to wait.
Yahnna passed the swaddled new born to Atahr, but not before she gave him a complex array of subtle communications that only he could see. He accepted the bundle and head for the private area where Yahnna had come, but as he did so, he threw back a questioning glance to Yahnna, confused and baffled by what she so obviously conveyed.
The Dykelander's conversed with a sign language so complex that intricate communications could be conveyed through the subtlest of body language… the flicker of an eye, the twitch of a brow, the curve of a lip.
“You will understand my meaning,” Yahnna sent yet another secret message to the now concerned Atahr. “You will see that our tribe is now specially blessed and now you must do your duty… and be strong for Jayah", all of this, Atahr read in a single glance.
Atahr was the man of Jayahs hearth according to the mating customs of the people and though their beliefs would allow each to seek a new mate each year, Atahr and Jayah remained bound and committed to one another for the past five years. As man of Jayahs hearth, Atahr would leave the side of his mate to now attend to his sacred duty as the child's father. In the quiet place Atahr prayed over the still swaddled child as he did at the birth of their son, he acknowledged duality and yet oneness that he and Jayah shared in vague, "beginning" likeness to their perfect deity Ayah-- a perfect duality in perfect oneness: both Female and Male, Mother and Father. At a moment such as this, after the birth, the man of the hearth would examine the child… Atahr had the right as bestowed by Ayah to either claim the child to be from his spirit and so his willingness to be its father, or he could claim the child as belonging to Ayah, in which case the Tribal Council would have the final say as to whether the child would remain or be returned to the celestial realm. With the blessings of the Shaman and the fathers bestowing of a name on the child and finally with the placing of Ayah's mark, the baby was officially declared a member of the parents clan and a member of their entire tribe, and such a declaration was not so easily overturned.
Atahr had taken longer than normal, as Yahnna knew he would. ‘It will take him a while to understand and come to terms,’ she thought to herself. If there was one thing that Yahnna knew about Atahr, it was that he would always stand by the wishes of Jayah… he loved her first and foremost and would die for her if need be. Because of this, Yahnna knew that Atahr would make the right decision.
Yahnna was glad to have the extra time to prepare Jayah.
“Your child is a miracle... a special gift directly from Ayah,” Yahnna signed, she wanted to convey this one thing first before she would reveal more. “Do not be concerned when you look upon your child for the first time,” she continued, carefully choosing her signs, “the child is in the more perfect image of Ayah”.
Jayah was perplexed with Yahnnas behaviour and adding fuel to the fire was that Atahr was taking so long. She wanted to see and hold her baby… to know and sign her baby's name for the first time. She wanted to hold her baby in the safety of her arms.
Yahnna recounted to Jayah the wonderful attributes of their deity and beliefs that many Dykelander's held fast to.
“Remember Jayah, that Ayah is both male and female… mother and father… two seemingly opposing and yet complimentary halves that make up a whole-- a single deity.”
Yahnna reached deep inside herself for all the right thoughts to convey, “remember the prophesy Jayah… the celestial promise that the people will grow more fully in the likeness to Ayah… that our day on earth at this time is but a shadow of our existence…we are all but a babe being nurtured in the womb of Ayah.” Jayah was confused, not knowing why Yannah was going on, and so much more than at the birth of Zahr. She began to fear that something was wrong. "Yahnnah, is there something wrong with my baby?"
The Bahr-Bahr hunters that had been stationed to guard the west side of the cliff had taken it upon themselves to leave the moment they became aware that the winds had change and dark clouds were now precariously close. Although their sign languages were entirely different, the Bahr-Bahr and Dykelander's had similar beliefs-- a set of strict rules proclaimed by their deity, many of which consisted of instructions on where to be ... and not be, during certain times. It was more than clear that all were to avoid the beach when a storm lingered overhead, or prepare to suffer the wrath of their deity. The more fearful of the group headed straight for the woods, with only three of the braver hunters, after concluding that Dorag and his hunting party had been unable to see or feel the sudden change of wind while clambering up the sheltered side of the outcrop, took it upon themselves to brave the danger and proceeded up the pass to warn their comrades of the danger.
Atahr was aware of the storms approach, but fear for Jayah's safety was his only concern. He was about half way up the cliff and moving as fast as he dared when the lightning struck and shook the entire outcrop, nearly dislodging him from his precarious position. Regaining his hold he continued on, taking a brief moment to look below, and be filled with surprise and hope to see so many of his clan scaling the cliff.
Atahr rolled himself over the top and jumped quickly to his feet, loosing the spear secured to his back, ready to take on any Bahr-Bahr standing in his way. Moving through the mist and stumbling over a scattering of debris and dead bodies, he followed the sound... toward the whimpering wail of a new born infant... and hopefully to Jayah.
Jayah lay motionless, her tunic, bloodied and Atah could not detect any sign of life-- she was deathly pale and her chest neither rose nor fell, he put his ear to her lips and felt nothing. Atahr cradled Jayah in his arms, wiping the still fresh tears from her face before burying his own tear streaked face into the crook of her neck.
Others and then soon Yahnnah arrived atop the knoll, despite her age and arthritis, she still ranked as one of the Clans best climbers. She approached Atahr and tried to coax him away from Jayah, but he held tight. Then grabbing a fist full of his hair she forcibly pulled his head back so he could read the signs produces by her gnarled fingers.
“Atar, move away from Jayah so I can tend to her,” Yahnnah commanded.
“Is she still alive then?” hope filled Atahr's eyes.
Yahnna with all of her experience new at a glance that Jayah was still alive but lay perilously close to the spirit world and close to death, she dared not waste valuable time to answer Atar. Within moments she had discovered where Jayah had was losing blood … a long deep tear from the difficult birth. It didn't look good, even if the bleeding could be stopped, there was still a high risk of infection. Opening the bag attached to her belt Yahnnah removed a small tightly wrapped package, inside was an awl, delicately chiseled from ivory and a length of fine, almost transparent sinew.
Yahnna was adept as healer and with a precision honed by years of experience she closed the wound with intricate stitches. The stitches took effect and so the worst of the blood loss slowed to a trickle, but so much blood had been lost, leaving Jayah so badly dehydrated that even a trickle posed dangerous. If Jayah didn't soon awaken to take in fluids she would soon die. Yahnna again reached into her medicine pouch and pulled out another small tightly wrapped parcel no bigger than the tip of her thumb, she opened it to reveal a white powder and to this she added a few drops of water and then held the acrid smelling mixture just below Jayahs nose.
There was a slight response as Jayah's eyes flickered weakly, giving hope to all who stood near, but there was no light... no sign of life in her eyes and Yahnnah knew at that moment, just how dangerously close Jayah was to entering the spirit world and to the point of no return. Yahnna raised her water bag and let a slow trickle flow between Jayahs parched lips. Still no response.
A young woman, Shara, the newest member of the Salmon clan and mate to Jaron had found the infant who was now swaddled in soft tanned fish hide, and Yahnnah beckoned for the child. Yahnnah opened the swaddling and lay the child across Jayah's breast and then lay the covering atop them both for warmth, never taking her eyes off Jayah's face in hopes of any sign of life.
Jayah was at the border of the spirit world, her being had filled with a peace and love she had never experienced before and she felt herself being drawn closer... and then she felt something else... something familiar -- a different swarmth, she felt the little movement... the soft nuzzling of her baby's face moving against her breast... seeking. Her baby needed her... Atahr, Zoran and Yahnna needed her... her clan needed her.
The sudden intake of breath surprise all who waited nearby... it was the dead coming back to life. Yahnnah went to work, propping Jayah up enough so that the drops of water would settle at the front of her mouth and encourage her to swallow.
Within moments Jayah was revived enough to take in a larger quantity and Yahnna smiled to see color come back to her cheeks and the light of life back into her eyes… she was weak, but alive.
Yahnnah watches as Atahr held Jayah, savouring the precious tender moment. Love was the best medicine now. Yahnnah was so tired as she turned her attention to the clans woman, Shara, who nudged nervously at her side. What could possibly be so pressing?!
Shara bowed her head, not wanting the task of having to enlighten Yahnnah, but it was urgent and so she took it upon herself to do so. Her sign was broken and full of emotion.
"The child... Yahnnah... he... she... ", Shara was unable to continue, and she didn't have to. Yahnnah knew that there was something about the baby that the young woman was having trouble conveying. Yahnnah immediately turned her attention to the soft suckling sound of Jayah's baby laying next to her breast and still covered by the swaddling.
No one thought it unusual when Yahnnah collected the infant, or that she made sure that the swaddling remained in tack ... covering the infant while doing so. After all, it was the duty of the head Shaman to fully inspect the baby after the cord was cut. Yahnnah took the new born aside and after careful inspection, bestowed her thanks to Ayah for such a gift... one that she knew some of their clan would not be able to see in the same light. Some babies would be returned to Ayah if considered to be hopelessly damaged, Yahnnah was determined that this would not be the case.
Despite the pains of life, and including the loss of a loved one, it was believed by the Dykelander peoples that all things in the universe worked toward a future good, and even though it may not be apparent at the time, they would one day reach a level of maturity to know more fully. It was for this reason that the Dykelander's strove to learn and have a better understanding of their world and the workings of their Deity every day.
In the small world of the Dykelander people, a child born belonged to a four tiered guardianship system… first to Ayah, second to the Tribe, third to the Clan and fourth to the parents. The Shaman would have the first say as to the status of the child… Yahnna would be the first to interpret the will of Ayah as to whether the child was meant to live or be returned to Ayah.
When Yahnna returned she beckoned for Atahr. Jayah was awake, fully aware now of all that had transpired... and anxious to see her baby, but as was customary of the Dykelander tribe, she would have to wait.
Yahnna passed the swaddled new born to Atahr, but not before she gave him a complex array of subtle communications that only he could see. He accepted the bundle and head for the private area where Yahnna had come, but as he did so, he threw back a questioning glance to Yahnna, confused and baffled by what she so obviously conveyed.
The Dykelander's conversed with a sign language so complex that intricate communications could be conveyed through the subtlest of body language… the flicker of an eye, the twitch of a brow, the curve of a lip.
“You will understand my meaning,” Yahnna sent yet another secret message to the now concerned Atahr. “You will see that our tribe is now specially blessed and now you must do your duty… and be strong for Jayah", all of this, Atahr read in a single glance.
Atahr was the man of Jayahs hearth according to the mating customs of the people and though their beliefs would allow each to seek a new mate each year, Atahr and Jayah remained bound and committed to one another for the past five years. As man of Jayahs hearth, Atahr would leave the side of his mate to now attend to his sacred duty as the child's father. In the quiet place Atahr prayed over the still swaddled child as he did at the birth of their son, he acknowledged duality and yet oneness that he and Jayah shared in vague, "beginning" likeness to their perfect deity Ayah-- a perfect duality in perfect oneness: both Female and Male, Mother and Father. At a moment such as this, after the birth, the man of the hearth would examine the child… Atahr had the right as bestowed by Ayah to either claim the child to be from his spirit and so his willingness to be its father, or he could claim the child as belonging to Ayah, in which case the Tribal Council would have the final say as to whether the child would remain or be returned to the celestial realm. With the blessings of the Shaman and the fathers bestowing of a name on the child and finally with the placing of Ayah's mark, the baby was officially declared a member of the parents clan and a member of their entire tribe, and such a declaration was not so easily overturned.
Atahr had taken longer than normal, as Yahnna knew he would. ‘It will take him a while to understand and come to terms,’ she thought to herself. If there was one thing that Yahnna knew about Atahr, it was that he would always stand by the wishes of Jayah… he loved her first and foremost and would die for her if need be. Because of this, Yahnna knew that Atahr would make the right decision.
Yahnna was glad to have the extra time to prepare Jayah.
“Your child is a miracle... a special gift directly from Ayah,” Yahnna signed, she wanted to convey this one thing first before she would reveal more. “Do not be concerned when you look upon your child for the first time,” she continued, carefully choosing her signs, “the child is in the more perfect image of Ayah”.
Jayah was perplexed with Yahnnas behaviour and adding fuel to the fire was that Atahr was taking so long. She wanted to see and hold her baby… to know and sign her baby's name for the first time. She wanted to hold her baby in the safety of her arms.
Yahnna recounted to Jayah the wonderful attributes of their deity and beliefs that many Dykelander's held fast to.
“Remember Jayah, that Ayah is both male and female… mother and father… two seemingly opposing and yet complimentary halves that make up a whole-- a single deity.”
Yahnna reached deep inside herself for all the right thoughts to convey, “remember the prophesy Jayah… the celestial promise that the people will grow more fully in the likeness to Ayah… that our day on earth at this time is but a shadow of our existence…we are all but a babe being nurtured in the womb of Ayah.” Jayah was confused, not knowing why Yannah was going on, and so much more than at the birth of Zahr. She began to fear that something was wrong. "Yahnnah, is there something wrong with my baby?"
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