“Summer Blossoms,” Autumn Harvest of Gourds said, later, her tone sly. “It is whispered that you have changed your name. Has your womb gone dry at such an early age?”
“My Moons are still with me,” her great granddaughter said. “There is no secret. I am Warrior Woman of Blood and Battle. You will know why soon enough.”
“Go away,” Old Mother said, her bony hand waving them out. “I tire.”
Silenced, the leaders of the two tribes crawled out through the Womb Passage. Old Mother felt well enough to twist wool into threads and knot them for swaddling clothes. She ate and drank and her body passed both solids and fluids. Her joints moved with less pain. Her breath came easier. The Earth had granted her enough days to fulfill the visions.
In midafternoon, Make War crawled through the curving passage, Warrior Woman behind her. Make War said, “SaltTribe has arrived in their hide canoes. They will have salt and fish to trade.”
Warrior Woman added, “Salt Tribes’ warriors sailed to the east land and brought back prisoners and trade items. One such prisoner has red hair upon his head instead of vines and eyes the color of a cloudless summer sky.”
Old Mother closed her dark eyes upon hearing the words. Though she knew she did not speak the truth, she said, “There is no such human.”
“There is. I saw her with my own eyes,” Make War said. “She is tall and limber, taller than the tallest man here, and her ears are round and small.” Make War touched her own pointed ears. “Her ears are very ugly. Salt Tribe is bringing her with them. They are calling her Sky Eyes. The men are all besotted.”
“Men are easily besotted,” her great granddaughter said, her tone wry.
Sky Eyes . . .Old Mother’s tears beaded and fell, leaving salt to dry upon her face. Salt Tribe had taken the first step upon the path that must be trod. The path of the visions. “This prisoner is not to be brought to the Womb Circle,” she stated.
“She will enter no circle,” Warrior Woman said. “She has painted her white skin blue and she must be tied at night to keep her from running away.”
The visions showed a sky-eyes in the circle, making magic, suckling a child. “She will enter a circle with one of the tribes. There is safety in the circle,” Old Mother said. “Unclaimed by a circle, the men might take her. But she may never enter here.” Old Mother spat twice upon the ground and slapped her palms upon the spittle. “This is now Law of the Womb.” Old Mother felt some of the burden shift from her shoulders into the earth. Vines rose and twined through her fingers and up her arms.
“This is now Law of the Womb,” the women said together.
Make War said, “Sky-eyes fights with the staff Salt Tribe gave her. She fights with great strength and speed for one so large.”
“Her daughter will lead a tribe one day,” Old Mother said. The daughter of Sky-Eyes will be a great warrior. But not Sky-Eyes herself.
“Tell me of the other tribes.”
“Tribe of the South Sea is a day’s travel away. They sent runners to say they bring shellfish.”
“Weaves Baskets and Cloth Tribe travels with Makes Beads and Dries Fruit Tribe. Eagle Tribe and Hunts Harts Tribe travel with Fishes the East Sea Tribe.”
“Good,” Old Mother said. “It is auspicious that the northern tribes travel together.”
“Why?” Makes War asked.
“Their alliance will give us more time. Before the Farmers kill all our trees.” Old Mother ripped the vines from her hands and wrists and threw them on the fire, along with drops of her blood.
???
The hunters and warriors who were mated into a women’s tribe, and whose women were already gathered, assembled in the Men’s Circle. The unmated men arrived together just after dusk, nearly a hundred strong, the elders among them bringing much dried meat and the hides of aurochs and tales of battle against a herd of the savage horned beasts. The younger ones came looking for mates out of season.
The Speaker, Killer of Lion, let them talk, but his white eye looked into the darkness, seeing the truth of his visions even through the pain of the blindness of one eye.
He stood and said, “Be warned. Your mating urges and actions could result in you being turned over to the Women of the Womb. No man wants to be turned over to the gathering of the women.”
From the shadows, a female laughed. It was the laughter of one who had changed from the way of the womb to the way of the hunter. “If you wish to keep your balls, stay away from the Old Mother of the Salt Tribe. She will take them and eat them.”
The other women of the hunt laughed with her.
???
Dusk came, and the land wrapped vines about the ankles of Old Mother of Winter Trees, warning her that the tribes were gathering out of season. She peeled them away and sent soothing peace into the earth through her palms.Sleep. It is winter. It is not yet your time,she told it. But the vines did not wither and withdraw. They lay upon the clay floor, their presence a warning of great danger.
A young woman, unmated, and nearly giddy with excitement at the presence of the unmated men, sat before her and tended her fire.
