Wild

My fingers were stiff from the chill of the night air. In the distance, I could hear the high pitched squeals of delight and cheers as the celebration of the most recent victory built in sound and size. I sat in front of my own home, kept company by my mounts and the stars in the sky. The moon hung low on the horizon, but its full face glowed vibrantly and lit up the wild landscape. The trees nearby shook in the winds and let loose a wave of leaves; it was just another indicator that the summer air had begun to migrate far from our lands. I stuffed my hands in my armpits to keep them warm.

The horses had all been rounded up for the night, as well as the cattle and sheep. Their smells lingered in the air. The natural odors were laced with those of milk and fresh hay, bringing to mind the memories of, at a young age, tending to the horses while the warriors trained for battle or fought one another playfully. The animals all huddled together to keep warm at one side of the tent. They were the only ones that really kept me company out here on nights when the veil began to lose its layers that it packed on for the summer. The cool touch of the wind felt like the fingers of the dead. I turned my head to look out towards the woods that surrounded the hut my husband and I had built when we joined our souls in matrimony; somewhere out there, his body was laid to rest underneath the hulking trunks of the oak trees that grew together in little huddles underneath the sky. There were no clouds tonight, which allowed all the stars to shine their firelight down onto my hunched shoulders and head.

I was spending so much of my attention on the heavens that I didn’t hear the footsteps that came up behind me.

“You, sister, spend too much time alone these days.” The resonance of my sister’s—my queen’s voice was always calming, though it took me by surprise; it made sense that her calm disposition be put to good use as the head priestess.

“Aye, but sometimes solace is good for the soul. You were the one who taught me that.” I responded. I moved myself to the collection of rocks that protruded up from the green ground that would soon be brown with death.

“The feast is not the same without you. You pulled your weight today in the battlefield, more than any of the other warriors. Why not join us now, when you need your tuath the most? There are plenty of fine men for you to choose from as well, if you choose.” My sister looked at me with a mischievous grin. I smiled weakly back at her, but I didn’t know how to pose my words to make her understand. I wasn’t ready to be around people again; mourning lasts longer for some than others, and there was no possible way that any man of our tribe, or the surrounding ones, would ever fit the bear-hide boots that my late husband made with his own bare hands, or wear the face paint that he allowed me to do before battle as well. I would never meet another equal to him in a hundred reincarnations, if I was to be blessed with so many.

“What are you thinking about?” My sister asked. She pulled at the robes that engulfed her small body before making them into a nest to settle into on the ground. My deer hide-pants stretched around the muscles of my legs as I sat down next to her.

“My husband. My life. The children I will never have.” I answered her as honestly as I could while keeping back the choking feeling in my throat. It hurt so much to talk about the daggers in my heart.

“Dear one, can I tell you a story?” Siobhan leaned forward and balanced her weight on her hand. The gloved fingers had dealt with so many herbs and so many concoctions that it was sometimes hard to believe that we were related. She seemed so bright a star in comparison to my dull aching one.

“Of course. I love your stories even more than Tath’s.” I answered, pulling my knees to my chest to keep warm and settled in for a good tale.

“I remember the day you were born from mother. Her face turned pale with fatigue and we all knew that she was going to pass into the Other World without so much as a glance back. She seemed to know something that we didn’t, though. She knew even better than the Druid that the being she was bringing into the world was stronger than ten men in battle and fiercer than a gang of charging bears. That night, when Oisin, who at that time had just become an ovate, blessed you, he had a vision. He saw a woman with a cloak of red hair flowing down her shoulders and an ax made of some silvery thing raised high above her head, leading an army of thousands into battle, and into victory. He saw this maiden with no children, but a loving husband and surrounded by people who love her like family, like tribe.

“As this baby grew older, we all watched her toddle around on her small legs, trailing behind her a pelt that had belonged to her mother or a small nappy soaked in cow’s milk. The milk made her strong, and some say even stronger than was foretold. Her brother and sister watched her as she matured, earning her first sword and horse. She insisted on being a warrior, since that’s what she was most interested in. She studied sword fighting with the king and took him down more than he’d ever admit. Her hair grew longer and longer as the summers past; soon it was down to her mid-back. The ends were as silky as the day she was born, though she rarely ever touched it with her fingers; the winds that rode with her as she sped across the countryside did all the combing she’d ever have to do. And when she finally chose a man from her crowd of lusting followers, I could have sworn that I saw her mother on the day she was wed.

“My sister is a proud woman, though she isn’t without fault. She was born a warrior, and she will always be one, even when it comes to matters of the heart. My lovely sibling, I think that he would want you to be as happy as possible in the wake of his passing. You husband was always jovial and could make anyone, even the straight-faced Oisin laugh every once in a while. Though you are so loyal that you don’t want another to share the burden of life with you, please don’t forget that there are others here who miss you.” My sister reached out even father with her grass-covered palm and grasped my own. I let her do so, but turned away so she wouldn’t see how much her words had affected me.

“I love you, Fiona. And so did you husband, and so did your mother. Don’t leave me. Let me be with you.”

“I can’t stand your generosity. I’ll go with you if you’ll stop it with your kind words.” I sniffed at my nose before running the moist nostrils down my sleeve. The tip felt red and swollen, a perfect match for my face. Siobhan squeezed my hand and pulled me to my feet.

“You are so strong all the time. I admire that.” She commented, looking into my teary face. The wind picked up and froze my tears in their tracks. I could feel her hand shake in mine. “As for children, I don’t think you need to have any to raise any. Take mine any time.” She joked, and the pair of us laughed a bit. The catharsis stuck to my face like mud. No matter how much I wiped at my cheeks, they always seemed to be damp with salt and tears.

“Let me get my horse and we’ll go. You’re becoming too much of an old woman to walk everywhere, old sister.” Before I knew what happened, my sister’s flat, hard palm made contact with the back of my skull. “Fine then, no ride back for you!” I called before taking off to the other side of my hut. She could never catch me, no matter how hard she ran.