Moon of Growing Sea Ice
On a low hill overlooking the ocean, the ghost of Madyrut huddled in an old chestnut tree with spectral arms wrapped around her nothingness, waiting for him.
Asson kept glancing up at the tree as he carefully made his way through the wet boulders that cluttered the shore. Sunlight, reflected from the ocean, glimmered over the chestnut, transforming its twigs into skeletal fingers that seemed to be pointing accusingly at his heart, as though Madyrut found something there gravely wanting.
âDonât be angry,â he said. âI got here as quickly as I could. Ghosts donât understand that itâs a nine-day canoe trip in winter.â
Her branches flailed when Wind Woman gusted up the shore.
Asson stopped to take a drink from his sealskin water bladder. Once Madyrut had found him, she hadnât left Asson alone. For almost ten days, her thoughts had been his, but the reverse was not true. She didnât understand the difficulty of her request. Asson took a long drink, rearranged the Spirit pouches on his belt, and tied the bladder between them again.
The faint scent of smoke rode the breeze. He studied the heavily forested hills that lined the coast and saw no gray haze drifting above the trees that would have signaled the location of a village. Nonetheless, he kept his eyes open. The People of the Masks and the People of the Songtrail were old enemies. It would be very unpleasant for him if the Masks People found him alone in their territory.
Madyrutâs sense of urgency knotted inside his heart until it hurt. âIâm coming.â
He continued on his way, but carefully. Ice clung in the shadowed places between the boulders. At his age, it would not do to fall. A broken leg or hip would be a death sentence. He carefully wedged a foot and stepped down to the sand. A storm was building out at sea. Soon, heâd be wading through snow. He had to hurry, for her sake and his.
As he neared the winter-bare chestnut, he heard childish weeping. Asson did not know how Madyrut had been killed. She would not show him that, or perhaps she did not know herself. Often a personâs last moments were a blur, and perhaps sheâd been struck from behind. He knew only that she had been very young, and a warrior who had died in battle. Her People believed that each person had two souls. One stayed with the bones forever. The other, the afterlife soul, remained here for ten days. If the body of the dead person had been properly prepared, and Sung to the afterlife, on the tenth day she would be able to see the Star Road in the sky that led to the last bridge. At the foot of the bridge, all the animals a person had ever known stood waiting. The animals who had loved the person protected her as she crossed to the Land of the Dead on the other side. But the animals she had mistreated chased her, biting at her heels, striking her with their hooves, trying to force her to fall off the bridge into the dark abyss below.
Madyrutâs body had not been prepared for the journey. It happened occasionally on battlefields. Before the family could get there to search, the beasts and birds had so ravaged the corpse it was unrecognizable, or it had been torn to bits and scattered through the forest. Sometimes, victorious warriors mutilated their enemyâs body so the family could never find their loved one. It was the worst thing an enemy could do. For if a body was not prepared, the Star Road remained invisible to the afterlife soul. Condemned to remain on earth forever, it became a homeless ghost, rattling the cooking pots in the villages at night, eating the last dregs of soup. After a time, homeless ghosts retreated to old trees to sleep. It was these trees that the Masks People cut down for their defensive palisades, thereby surrounding their villages with vigilant ghost warriors.
âHello, Madyrut,â Asson called as he slogged through the tan sea of old leaves that covered the
On a low hill overlooking the ocean, the ghost of Madyrut huddled in an old chestnut tree with spectral arms wrapped around her nothingness, waiting for him.
Asson kept glancing up at the tree as he carefully made his way through the wet boulders that cluttered the shore. Sunlight, reflected from the ocean, glimmered over the chestnut, transforming its twigs into skeletal fingers that seemed to be pointing accusingly at his heart, as though Madyrut found something there gravely wanting.
âDonât be angry,â he said. âI got here as quickly as I could. Ghosts donât understand that itâs a nine-day canoe trip in winter.â
Her branches flailed when Wind Woman gusted up the shore.
Asson stopped to take a drink from his sealskin water bladder. Once Madyrut had found him, she hadnât left Asson alone. For almost ten days, her thoughts had been his, but the reverse was not true. She didnât understand the difficulty of her request. Asson took a long drink, rearranged the Spirit pouches on his belt, and tied the bladder between them again.
The faint scent of smoke rode the breeze. He studied the heavily forested hills that lined the coast and saw no gray haze drifting above the trees that would have signaled the location of a village. Nonetheless, he kept his eyes open. The People of the Masks and the People of the Songtrail were old enemies. It would be very unpleasant for him if the Masks People found him alone in their territory.
Madyrutâs sense of urgency knotted inside his heart until it hurt. âIâm coming.â
He continued on his way, but carefully. Ice clung in the shadowed places between the boulders. At his age, it would not do to fall. A broken leg or hip would be a death sentence. He carefully wedged a foot and stepped down to the sand. A storm was building out at sea. Soon, heâd be wading through snow. He had to hurry, for her sake and his.
As he neared the winter-bare chestnut, he heard childish weeping. Asson did not know how Madyrut had been killed. She would not show him that, or perhaps she did not know herself. Often a personâs last moments were a blur, and perhaps sheâd been struck from behind. He knew only that she had been very young, and a warrior who had died in battle. Her People believed that each person had two souls. One stayed with the bones forever. The other, the afterlife soul, remained here for ten days. If the body of the dead person had been properly prepared, and Sung to the afterlife, on the tenth day she would be able to see the Star Road in the sky that led to the last bridge. At the foot of the bridge, all the animals a person had ever known stood waiting. The animals who had loved the person protected her as she crossed to the Land of the Dead on the other side. But the animals she had mistreated chased her, biting at her heels, striking her with their hooves, trying to force her to fall off the bridge into the dark abyss below.
Madyrutâs body had not been prepared for the journey. It happened occasionally on battlefields. Before the family could get there to search, the beasts and birds had so ravaged the corpse it was unrecognizable, or it had been torn to bits and scattered through the forest. Sometimes, victorious warriors mutilated their enemyâs body so the family could never find their loved one. It was the worst thing an enemy could do. For if a body was not prepared, the Star Road remained invisible to the afterlife soul. Condemned to remain on earth forever, it became a homeless ghost, rattling the cooking pots in the villages at night, eating the last dregs of soup. After a time, homeless ghosts retreated to old trees to sleep. It was these trees that the Masks People cut down for their defensive palisades, thereby surrounding their villages with vigilant ghost warriors.
âHello, Madyrut,â Asson called as he slogged through the tan sea of old leaves that covered the
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