Deepwood Weald camp crystal lake

He made his camp on the fringes of the deepwood, upon a hill which would afford a line of sight south, across the terrace. Caches were dug out for various purposes: herb and meat storage, mostly. Mojag had found a fallen cedar branch and stripped it of the green, leaving it naked and antler-like; this he would use to dry some goods.

Most of his collection had been parceled out, between Moonglow and the forest village, but he had intentions to visit Moonspear soon. Having discovered during his travels that Moontide had gone empty and forgotten, he found his camp-work slow, and a soft sort of grief flavoring each moment.

Finally, his bear pelt spread upon the grass, he sprawled across it and tried to enjoy the rest of the afternoon.

Fur growing back healthy and new, her weight regained in the right places, having a consistent diet for the first time in months was already showing its postive effects on Waawaashkeshi. She was moving far quicker in her travels than she would have just a few weeks before.

Her goal still the westward territories, the gilded woman approached the makeshift camp from the east. It was a rather strange sight to her; various goods laid about, all with a man sprawled on a bear pelt in the middle of it all.

It only took a short second for her to blurt out her first thought; I've never seen a bear pelt before. How did you manage that? She says, though keeping a distance for the moment. She had learned not to be so willing to approach a stranger after her encounter in the mountains.

The sun was warm upon his body, warmer still upon the pelt itself; there was a softly salted breeze creeping along the sagging boughs of trees above, and a subtle rustling that would have put him right to sleep, had a stranger not called out.

One eye opened, then the other as Mojag lifted his head and tucked himself together more proper-like. A smile spread across his face, always happy for company.

It wasn't as valiant a tale as you might expect, unfortunately. There was once an elderly black bear; having gone senile, it was a danger. A hunter culled it, kept the meat, and had no use for the rest. As he recited this tale, Mojag looked fondly upon the pelt. I obtained it through trade.

Looking to the woman now, still warm and as inviting as always — I am Mojag, traveler and trader.

While the man may not have killed the bear himself, Waawaashkeshi found it impressive nonetheless. She struggled to imagine anyone strong enough to kill a bear on their own. My name is Waawaashkeshi. I am travelling to the west. She returned his introduction with a newfound ease - he had a warm presence, it was hard for her to remain tense.

Is trading a common practice around here? This is the first I have seen of it. She posed the question while making a careful approach forward, curious of what else the man, Mojag, may have with him. Her natal pack participated in the practice during the summer months, but Waawaashkeshi had been much too young to be allowed to participate.

His collection was rather impressive from what she could see. Meats and herbs and quills, oh my!

The woman was pleased by the story, and came closer to investigate him. Judging by what she had said, she was either very new to the area — and not yet integrated to one of the villages — or she might have only been passing through.

It is a pretty common practice here, I think. I have seen men trade fresh kills for a night of sheltered sleep within Moonglow, up the mountain. The same was done at village Moontide, but... that village does not appear to exist now. He thought of the village, of Rodyn, and of how wonderful his childhood had been by the ocean.

It was not a long-lasting hurt.

I have dried boar if you are hungry, or fresh berries if they're not too tart. Given enough patience I might be able to ferment them, too. He motioned then to a few pules of things, only tastes of what he had hidden in storage.

She gave small nods as he spoke, a mix of her habit of active listening and her attention being drawn by various wares. I stayed with Moonglow for a few months some time ago, to learn from my friend Nasamiituuq. She says with a smile - finally - appearing on her face. It was nice to think about that time. I did not spend much time within the borders, or maybe I would have seen. Her lack of time spent within the moon village was something she regreted now.

Listening as the man made his offer, Waawaashkeshi blinked. It was certainly tempting. Oh - it does sound nice, but I have nothing. Not unless he wanted to trade stories, that was. She had spent the past few months attempring to flee the Taiga after all. I was only curious, but maybe I'll be able to return to you when I've settled.

She was a scavenger, not a hunter - but maybe she would still be able to find something of worth. Those berries sounded pretty good to her right now.

Are you from the moon villages, Mojag?

As she perused what was available, Mojag kept close eye on her. He listened, absorbing what was shared, and appeared to brighten when Keshi mentioned names and places which were familiar.

She seemed intrigued by the elderberries, so he quietly moved them to within reach. At the same time he explained, I was born in Moonglow, my mother was Shikoba - my sister is Ajei, if you know of her? He paused only a moment, not bothered at all if these names were new to her. Where do you come from, then? I would happily trade those berries for a tale.

Maybe she would share her story with him?

The name's mentioned were somewhat familiar, prompting another nod from Waawaashkeshi. Yes - I met her during a women's circle. She told stories of your mother. It was had to forget - she had gone to Moonglow in search of knowledge, and that was one of the few things she had gained before being pulled away,

At the mention of tale's, the gilded woman was quick to brighten up. I come from the Summerwalker's, in the north. She responded, a hint of pride in her tone. My mother was a storyteller. If you wish for a tale, I have many.

Her mind set on the berries, she was content to settle in front of him now.

The summerwalkers. There were many tribes in the northlands and many myths among them. Mojag had not heard of these people but that did not bother him at all, only energized him. It was common for many of these tribes to keep a verbal history, and Mojag hoped to benefit from the practice as Keshi offered a story.

Yes, please. I would happily trade for that. His tail swayed and then tucked against his haunch, and he affixed his full attention on the woman. Perhaps her words would be as honeyed as the rest of her.

She took a moment to consider what she should share. There were just too many good stories - it was difficult to pick one. How about the two-headed serpent then? She offered, carefully recalling the story in her mind. It's a good one.

Taking a breath, she began soon after. A long, long time ago during the first Summerwalkers reign, Mother Naawakwe, our first Birdwatcher, began to notice something strange during the long summer's journey. She spoke with animated movements, pausing to create tension. Injured birds on their path, grass and grounded plants dead and rotting in lines through the plains. It was something she had not seen since wolves made peace with the earth. Like most of her packmates she had been willing to dismiss it, until the birds began to flee that was. Her tone spoke of something dire, something yet to be told.

It was Naawake's responsibility to know the birds, to determine which flocks the Summerwalkers were to follow during the summer's journey. Bird's are easy to scare, quick to fly away, but this time she knew something was truly wrong. She gestured up to a tree where a few small birds sat, though they were quick to fly away upon being noticed. She first went to the Storyleader, Wasnodae, trusting that as the Summerwalker's founder she may understand what was going on. Naawakwe spoke of the birds, showed Storyleader the trails of death, but found no answers in her friend. The Birdwatcher begged, 'Wasnodae, you have travelled to the spirit world and back, you must have seen a creature who could have caused this', but the Summerwalker's leader shook her head. She told Naawakwe that if she wished to learn the cause, she must embark on a quest herself. She pauses for a brief moment now, checking to see if Mojag's interest has been held.

Keshi stood and began the story, but there wasn't just a verbal component, there was also her movements—a somatic piece to the puzzle, all which held Mojag's fascination. It was as much about the tale within the story as it was to simply watch her move, and he was thrilled.

Mojag's gaze flit to the tiny songbirds in the trees, which themselves had been watching the wolves and now spasmed away from sight, being prey, and feeling the pressure of their attention. He learned through the story of how Keshi's people fit in to their roles; what kind of roles were of importance, what values the Summerwalkers saw as important.

He saw the way Keshi paused and looked to him, and he nodded, urging the woman to continue the story. By now he knew he owed more than berries for this splendid tale.

She gave a rather large smile at his nod, thrilled that he was so entertained.

At the word of Storyleader Wasnodae, Naawakwe embarked on her journey. She ventured far, far ahead of the Summerwalker's wandering group down the trail of dead grass. She spoke, making a wavering line with her claw in the ground. Soon she was lead into a dense forest, but it too had been helpless in the face of the creature Naawakwe chased. Her path was made clear by wilting trees and dying bushes.

No longer were the birds here to guide her, and Naawakwe for a moment felt that she was truly alone until the rustling of bushes filled her ears. Her head jolted, and only rabbit-lengths away from her slithered the largest serpent she had ever seen. With the bushes it had only just slithered through dead and yellowed, she knew that she had found the culprit. She emphasised many words as she spoke, looking to express the intensity of the scene. She was quick to address the creature, stumbling on her words as she noticed its second head. 'Serpent, with such might as you appear to have why do you wilt the land that carries you?' But the serpent did not answer, instead lunging at Naawakwe with it's leftmost head. The Birdcatcher jumped back, only just avoiding it's fangs which were surely deadly. As she told the story Waawaashkeshi suddenly jolted forward as she spoke of the lunging snake, mimicking the motion the best a wolf could before stepping back.

Since Storyleader Wasnodae had reunited the spirit world with the living world, Naawakwe and the other wolves thought they had found peace, but now she knew that this was not true. The two-headed serpent was the last piece of the old world, and she would have to kill it. It was hard to contain her excitement - this was her favourite part. Fighting the best she could over the span of five days, Naawakwe succeded in her efforts. Standing over the deceased serpent, she decided that it's head would make an excellent trophy. But, She paused, averting her eyes with a cheeky smile as though someone else may be listening. When Naawakwe took the head and the creatures blood spilled onto the earth, she knew instantly that through her actions she had returned evil to the living world. Returning to Wasnodae and the Summerwalker's, they each vowed to never again collect trophies. If something could not be used, they would not deprive the earth of what rightfully belonged to it.

She finished her story, looking to Mojag expectantly. She wanted to know his thoughts.

With each twist and turn of the tale, Keshi's body shifted also. Mojag was enthralled when she reached the arrival of the serpent, and by the time the hero of the story fought with it, he was eager to know the ending; moving almost with Keshi from time to time, as she first jolted back and then made to lunge, and he swayed with the motions.

The tale was a curious one. He had never heard one like it, even among his travels, and was overjoyed to have been given this opportunity. At the finale, Mojag applauded with a slap of his forepaw against the bear pelt, beaming, wanting to laugh and to holler with triumph, but he knew that would only disturb the peace.

Wonderful! A tale I have never heard before, and told so well! I am thankful to have heard it. As he said this, Mojag moved to press the elderberries close to Keshi, and then turned to pluck a lavender flower from somewhere behind his set-up, adding it with a slight flourish and a bow of his head.

It has a very good lesson within it. Often the best stories do.

She gave a bow of her head at his praises, feeling rather proud that things had gone so well. I am glad you think so! It has been passed down in my home for a long time. She says, happy to accept the elderberries. She was grateful for the extra lavender as well. We use stories to pass down many of our values - that is only one of many.

Her tail curled around herself as she laid on the ground once more to eat a couple of the berries. It had been some time since she had the privilege of eating such a delicacy. You said you're a traveller, yes? Where do you think you'll go next?

He wondered to himself, did other tribes have the same story? Maybe to another clan there was a snake with more than two heads. Maybe it wasn't a snake at all, but something altogether different? Or maybe the hero did not win in the end, in the same way—if one could call that winning; the lessons might change with every permutation.

Her question drew him out of his flurried thoughts.

It will depend on what is needed, and where. Began his answer, as he settled to his haunches again. I know of some villages in this area, so I will bring what I have to them. I will ask what they need, and maybe I will know where to find it.

A small shrug of his broad shoulders. I am not sure. But I am glad to be back among my people.

She listened, making careful considerations. I plan to settle in the west, resume my family's traditions. She says, finding the claim strange as it left her mouth. She had considered it for some time, but until now had not made a decision. Maybe we will meet again during the summer's journey - I should have more to offer you then.

On the other hand, maybe she would return to the moon villages if she was not successful.

I hope I can consider you a friend, Mojag. With a final smile she stood, picking up the items given to her before beginning her westward trot once again.

West! He tried to recall what lay in that direction, but it had been so long since his adventures there, and he could only think of Moontide; that had not been far from here, but it no longer stood, and remembering this loss brought a swell of grief to his heart. It was not suitable for this moment, not when he'd made a new friend—so it was quashed, to be handled later.

The woman took the rest of the berries offered, and Mojag was pleased.

I look forward to more stories, new friend. Perhaps my own trades will take me far enough to find you again! I wish you well. He gave a bow of his head, and quietly began to tidy what was left of his wares; but he watched her go, too. The sentiment was genuine, and he would be sure to keep his promise.