As the red sun rose over the Deadlands, Elodie and Hopping Cloud danced a dance and sang a song to greet the new day.
Only the two of them though, for they had no one else to sing and dance with, no one who cared to partake or even observe them here in the waystation. The nine Métis Pathfinders paid Elodie and Hopping Cloud no mind, moving about as if they could not see or hear them even though they danced and sang in plain sight. They would ignore her no matter what she did in this skin, and would continue to do so until she returned to her natural form, but even then, they would remain coldly professional and keep her at arm’s length.
A trend set by Adsila of the Wind, or Jocelyn as Elodie was supposed to call her. Jocelyn did not fit the rugged and severe woman the way Adsila of the Wind did, with her stark, weathered features and humourless smiles that were warm and harsh at the same time. The wind was not always kind, nor did it care to be, for it was the result of its surroundings, and here in the Deadlands, it was most unkind. Not mean, not hurtful, not even rude, but still unkind all the same, keeping Elodie apart from the pack and setting the tone for the others who followed her lead. That is what they were, these ten soldiers here, a pack of braves and Pathfinders both. Most hailed from different tribes, had different customs and spoke different tongues, but here in the Deadlands, they were united as one under the label of Métis, a hunting pack that fought together against the Great Enemy.
A pack that did not include Elodie, and refused to tell her what she must do before she was allowed to join. This pack was not about being Pathfinders, and she had no desire to take orders from leaders she had never seen or met. The pack was their group, the individuals gathered here working together as one while travelling through the Deadlands on whatever mission had been assigned them. That was the pack Elodie wished to join, this gathering of eleven who were almost strangers, but hunted together all the same. It was about unity and harmony among them, camaraderie and solidarity in the face of a threat, and though they guarded her fiercely as they would one of their own, she was not one of them and would never be, or so it seemed they were telling her.
They paid no mind to her songs and dances, and only ever answered her questions when directly asked. They did not include her in their conversations, and made no effort to make her feel welcome at their fire. They fed her, but cared not if she enjoyed it, and would hear no compliments of their craft, nor would they offer any in return as they travelled together for days.
It was as if they were two packs, with the ten of them on one side, and Elodie all on her own on the other, and it was all so very sad and lonely. Elodie did not understand how Howie could bear it, being the lone wulf howling at the moon in hopes of hearing another wulf’s welcoming cry. At least he had found his hunting pack, even if it was a temporary one, but Elodie had left home to see the world with the man who would be her mate, and now she had no one to run alongside. No one besides the Spirits, who were every bit as lonely as she, for they too had no pack, flock, herd, or any other group to call their own. That is why they were always happy to answer Elodie’s call, even sleepy Little Claw who did not like the waking world all that much, for it reminded her of the harsh hunger pangs which were all she knew in life.
As for Hopping Cloud, he sang for the same reasons Elodie did, and they sang and danced together with all their hears. When they completed their song, they both paused for a moment and strained their little ears, hoping against all hope to hear the reply of their flock. While Elodie listened for Frowny, Stella, and Terrance, Hopping Cloud listened for the calls that he knew in life, for the tinny chimes of Swaying Sands, the off-beat chirps of Laughing Sunbeam, or the demanding calls of Bold Skyfeather. Elodie did not know if those kiccaws were still flourishing in the desert, or if they had all long since completed their journey here on the Frontier to pass on to the next, for Hopping Cloud knew not the ways of counting days, weeks, and years. He only knew that he had been separated from his flock for far too long, and Elodie’s lonely musings reminded him of such, so much so that it broke her heart to feel his longing.
Mostly because it reflected her own, so they hopped on over to her teacher to seek solace and comfort. Adsila of the Wind had none to offer, for though she had told Howie that the bond between teacher and student was no different from family, theirs was a family devoid of all warmth and good cheer. It was harsh and cold as her unconcerned glare that kept Elodie and Hopping Cloud both from moving in too close, rebuffed by aloof indifference as the woman marched on past and said in French, “Time we left, Child of Many Names. Will Elodie the brave be joining us today?”
She did not wait for a reply, and Elodie dared not test the other woman’s patience. They would not abandon her, but Adsila of the Wind would brook no tardiness either. Elodie had no desire to count out all the twigs on the ground and report the number to other woman, only to be told that the count was wrong and to go back and count again. Nor would Adsila of the Wind wait on Elodie, so if she said it was time they left, she would leave regardless if Elodie was ready.
Sensing her urgency, Hopping Cloud brought them back to the empty cabin where the door had been left ajar just for them. Slipping inside, they bade each other farewell for now as Elodie returned to her own skin and scrambled to get dressed as quickly as she could. There was no time to brush her long and tangled hair, already so coarse and thick after only a few days without the touch of Chrissy’s hair soap that left it so very soft and silky. Elodie missed that hair soap dearly, and the sweet, floral scent it gave her, but a brave had no need of such things while out on the trail. There were a great many more things she missed, like listening to Chrissy’s melodic strumming’s and chatting with her about how cute the animals were, or snuggling with Astrid and soothing the other woman’s frayed nerves until she accepted Elodie’s comforting presence.
Most of all, she missed all the things that Howie did. Brushing her hair, freshening her clothes, cooking delicious meals, tending to her aches and wounds, and so much more, he did a great many things to make the journey that much easier on Chrissy and Elodie, and his efforts were sorely missed.
If she wanted to be his mate however, his wife and partner in life, Elodie would have to learn how to do these things for herself. Then if he still wanted to do them for her, she would no longer be a burden, as she could in turn do some things for him as his equal. Maybe cook meals that were as delicious as the ones he made, bring him tanned hides and warm furs to keep him warm in the winter, or tell stories that made his eyes go wide with wonder the same way hers did when he shared his stories. To do any of that though, first she had to learn to take care of herself, and so far, she was not doing a very good job of it.
She did not know the Cantrip to freshen her clothes, and did not have the devices that would let her clothes dry overnight. Because of this, her underclothes were still damp from being handwashed and her leather dress smelled of mud and sweat. There was nothing she could do however, nothing besides stow her underclothes away in her bag and wear her dress as is. If only there was a Spirit native to these lands who cared to join her in her journeys, then she could Wildshape into a new skin and make the days go that much easier. Adsila of the Wind forbade it however, as she said that five Spirits was already too many for a child who had yet to truly fathom even one, especially here in the Deadlands with so very many Chindi lurking about. Those evil, tormented Spirits would seek to take advantage of Elodie’s offer and refuse to relinquish control of their body once she joined them in sharing it, though Elodie was not so concerned. Mama taught her all that she would need to know in order to deal with those Chindi, but she could do nothing unless they truly sought to take her take over and become one. Only then could Elodie put her knowledge to work and help that particular vengeful spirit resolve its issues and move on to what came next.
The thought sparked a notion Elodie found intriguing, so she grabbed her pack which she prepared the night before and ran out after Adsila of the Wind. True to her word, the woman had already set out from the waystation alongside her fellow Pathfinders, leaving Elodie behind all by her lonesome because the Deadlands was no place for children. If she persisted in being the Child of Many Names, then she would die and Mama, Papa, and Howie would all mourn, and she did not want them to be sad. Especially not Howie who did not know how to do it well, and Elodie’s heart ached at the thought of him carrying that pain for so long, like how he carried all his pain these days.
Her heart also ached at the prospect of staying in the Deadlands for years and years and years, so she swallowed her fear of Adsila of the Wind and asked, “If a Herald of the Great Enemy should attempt to take over a hata?ii who knows the Evil-Chasing Holy Way, is it possible to use what they know to deal with it the same way they would deal with a vengeful Spirit?”
The older woman gave Elodie a neutral look, but the set of her jaw said that she was not pleased. “What is the purpose of the Evil-Chasing Holy Way?”
This was her method of teaching, answering questions with questions so that Elodie must discover the answers herself. It was most frustrating, but her many requests to make things simple had been spurned if not ignored outright, so Elodie would have to accept things as they were if she wished to learn. “To ensure hózhó is maintained, or health, harmony, wellness, and beauty. A person sick from stress, fear, or encounter with the taboo, a new beginning or change of Path, a brush with bad or harmful Spiritual magics, these are but a few examples, for the Evil-Chasing Holy Way is vast as the horizon. The land, the skies, the heart, the mind, should any of these and more fall out of alignment for any reason, then we turn to the Evil-Chasing Holy Way to cleanse the unclean and restore balance with time and proper care.” Hózhó was a concept of her tribe, one absent from Adsila of the Wind’s, but the general idea was more or less the same, as Elodie parroted Mama’s explanation almost word for word.
“And what does this mean in terms of a Spirit assaulting its host?”
Elodie frowned, because the simplest explanation would be to say the Spirit had become a Chindi, but this was not to be said out loud. Similar to how it was with the Wendisa, to give voice to their name was to empower them, and also call their attention down upon you. Were they not in the Deadlands, she might well risk it, but she dared not do so here. Instead, she thought back to Mama’s words once more, and carefully avoided using the word. “It means the Spirit possesses too much negative energy, holding too much pain, fear, anger, resentment, or other such emotions. In doing so, the Spirit rejects harmony to the point where it can cause illness and death to anyone around it, and it will seek people out in order to vent its emotions.”
“So how would you respond to an attack from a Spirit attempting to seize your body and mind?”
So many questions in response to just one. Elodie heaved a long and tired sigh with a heart so heavy she did not even care to skip as she navigated through the muddy swamp. “I would bring it back to balance. If it is hurting, I will soothe its pain. If afraid, share courage. If angry, I will calm its rage, or do whatever is necessary to remind it of all that it once was so it can return to harmony once more. There are rituals for each of these in the Evil-Chasing Holy Way, or if the Spirit is not so far gone, I can simply open up my heart to it and mend that which has broken.”
Like she had with Destroyer of Burrows, who had been so maddened by the loss of her kits that she tracked and attacked the wulf who had done it, only to die to its ferocious bite. Or with Little Claw, who was so very hungry, sad, and cold all the time, but too weak and scared to set out on her own, so Elodie brought her out to eat, frolic, and be merry in the forests the diamondclaw had lived and died in, but had seen so very little of. Dancing Hooves yearned to run, to feel the ground beneath her hooves and wind in her mane as she ran safe and protected alongside her herd, while Drifting Tides was simply unwilling to move on just yet because there was still so much to see and explore on this brand-new Frontier, waters no sea lion had ever seen or tasted much less swam in, and she was an explorer and adventurer to the core.
As for Hopping Cloud? He was a brave who had been separated from his flock, and he yearned to find them once more to fulfill his duty, or failing this, find a new flock to provide for so that they might be merry and well fed.
They were not Chindi of course, and they never would be, for the Spirits who answered Elodie’s call all shared in her mirth and whimsy, as well as her fear, anger, and all other emotions and experiences. That was the pact between them, not of Shaper and Spirit, but of flock, herd, pack, and more. There might come a time when they decided they had enough of this life and were ready to move on, like the bunny Velvet Paw of Unmaking who stayed with her for less than a year before growing bored of it all. And like Velvet Paw, Elodie would bid them farewell and happily send them on their way to the next phase in their journey, but until such a time, she would share weal and woe with them all, as a proper hata?ii of the Evil-Chasing Holy Way should.
Adsila of the Wind knew all this of course, and she asked no more questions for long seconds as they moved through the swamps while ringed by Pathfinders who were silent as the gryphikin’s flight. Oh how Elodie wished she had a gryphikin Spirit to call upon and Shape into. What fun it would be to soar through the skies, or sit perched atop a friendly shoulder while nuzzling them all the livelong day. Howie would like that very much, even if he wouldn’t allow it, but Chrissy and Astrid would probably enjoy it as well. Also, if she could fly, Elodie could make the trip home all by herself whenever she was feeling lonely, like now where she was missing her companions, her parents, and her tribe as well, because she never expected to leave on this trip and be away for so very long. A few weeks perhaps, possibly even months, but while Adsila of the Wind would only say that Elodie would stay to learn until all that she needed to learn, that was likely to be years at the very least.
“Have you already forgotten your initial question, Child of Many Names?” The older woman asked, pulling Elodie out of her thoughts with an exasperated tone. Adsila of the Wind only ever called Elodie by that name when she was being childish and silly, if only to remind her that a child had no place out here in the Deadlands. “You wished to know if you could use the Evil-Chasing Holy Way to defeat a soldier of the Enemy. I have guided you to the answer, but still you do not think, because you wait for answers to be given.” Seeing Elodie’s aggrieved pout, Adsila of the Wind also sighed, no doubt displeased with her student’s lacking ability. “A hata?ii does not merely sing the songs and dance the dances according to the ceremony; they must change and adapt those ceremonies to circumstance. It is one thing to dance and sing over defeated puppets, but another to lift the shackles from Spirits who have yet to be abandoned by the Herald who commands it.”
Which Elodie did not even think was possible, for the Evil-Chasing Holy Way did not so much break the shackles as provide the captured slivers of Spirit strength enough to break free themselves. How could that be done with a Herald of the Great Enemy working against them both? They were creatures of empty Spirit created for just this purpose, and while the Evil-Chasing Holy Way had been created to counter them, it took countless generations of trial and error to learn what they knew today. Much of which had been lost, not just here on the Frontier where even the most seasoned of settlers had still been fairly young and inexperienced when they parted ways with their elders, but to the tribes in general.
The last of which Adsila of the Wind had told Elodie before they began, acknowledging that she could not teach her the entirety of the Enemy-Ghost-Capturing Way and that there was much Elodie would have to learn for herself. That was why the older woman asked so many questions, for she was training Elodie how to think and find answers without guidance. Not just for after she learned everything there was to learn, but early on as well, for in her pursuit of her own answers, there was a chance she might stumble upon an answer no other hata?ii on the Frontier had thought of, and in doing so, advance their collective understanding of the Enemy-Ghost-Capturing Way.
So Elodie accepted the criticism and focused on the task at hand, puzzling out whether the Evil-Chasing Holy Way could be used to deal with a Wendisa. And the answer she arrived at was no. A Mimic was not a whole Spirit, an echo of something that was once whole. No, a Wendisa was an empty Spirit, one that had been filled with malevolence and hostility by an unnatural invader who did not belong in this world, a parasite who sought to devour all life and plunder all the lands and lakes until they were bare. So there would be no restoring the Wendisa to balance, no returning it to harmony, for it had never known such a thing and could never attain it in these lands where the Earth Mother and Sky Father both rejected it.
Elodie voiced her thoughts to Adsila of the Wind, who nodded along in begrudging approval. “So the Child of Many Names does know how to use her mind,” she said, which again put a pout on Elodie’s face. “A shame she must be directed to use it, instead of knowing how to do so herself.” True words spoken to encourage Elodie to improve, but still unkind all the same, so she pouted some more while listening to the wisdom Adsila of the Wind deigned to share. “The Heralds of the Great Enemy are designed to latch onto the Spirits of the living and plunder the very essence of their beings. Like leeches, they will sink their teeth into you and drain you of all they can. The Evil-Chasing Holy Way has no means to overcome this, for balance cannot be restored with a font of imbalance affixed to the Spirit. There the Herald will sit, stuck fast to the Spirit of its host, whispering dark nothings into their minds and turning them away from their path. In time, the wounds of the Spirit will mend, but the Herald will still be there, like skin healing over stones embedded in flesh and slowly becoming one where there were once two. Thus, the Enemy-Ghost-Capturing Way came about, a means to excise the Herald and cut it free from the host’s Spirit, a surgery of sorts before a time when such a thing was in practice.”
Giving Elodie a look, Adsila of the Wind pursed her lips and said, “Even the greatest practitioners of the Enemy-Ghost-Capturing Way do not always succeed, for it is impossible to tell if the entirety of the sliver has been removed, or if some still remains. As such, you would do well to guard yourself against the attacks of the Great Enemy, lest you face suspicion for the rest of your years. Should you be so foolish to allow a sliver of a Herald slip past your defenses, then I pray you come to know regret, for it will mean you have survived the experience and come out better for it, as opposed to succumbing to the wiles of the Great Enemy.”
Always with the warnings to never give in, to never be tricked or taken advantage of. Well-meaning, but again not kind, so Elodie stifled yet another sigh and continued their journey in silence if only to avoid any further harsh words. She did not let her mind drift like before either, so that she would not be reprimanded again, for danger lurked in every shadow here in the Deadlands, and safety could never be assured. This was where she would find her Path though, so she must learn to navigate these lands and do battle against the Great Enemy, for that was the purpose of the Enemy-Ghost-Capturing Way.
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Where the Evil-Chasing Holy Way was about ensuring balance, the Enemy-Ghost-Capturing Way was about purging harmful forces in the world. Some negative thoughts and emotions were necessary, but where there was an unnatural overabundance, that was where the Enemy-Ghost-Capturing Way shined brightest. The ceremonies were ones of protection and repelling, of war and destruction, ceremonies created in times of great strife. So too could the Enemy-Ghost-Capturing Way be turned towards curses and hexes, to bind the bodies, minds, or Spirits of your foes or strike with dark energies that rot flesh with a touch, but Adsila of the Wind had warned Elodie against all these things. These were the methods of the Broken Way, the corrupted Singers, Medicine Men, Callers, and other wise men and women of the tribes.
Those terms no longer fit them of course, for they had strayed from their paths and corrupted their ways. Instead, they became Skin-Walkers, Hexcrafters, Shadow Binders, and other insidious things that every proper tribesman abhorred, and should Elodie stray from her Path, so too would she. This was the duty of those who practiced the Ways, whether it be Enemy-Ghost-Capturing Way who hunted them down, or the Evil-Chasing Holy Way to mend what they have broken. Some of those unholy things even worked alongside the Great Enemy, like their ancient foes of the Nahuatl Faith, ones who had been living so close without anyone the wiser. That was the greatest threat of the enemy, those who walked unseen alongside them, the ones wearing masks and pretending to be that which they were not, and Elodie would have to learn how to deal with them as well.
First though, she had to learn to deal with the Great Enemy. All aspects of them, not just the Wendisa, so when their group of ten and one found signs of a horde of Zombies and Ghouls moving towards them, Elodie made ready to do battle. Not with fang and talon, but with her billhook which was so very much like a single, big talon, and the Cantrip Papa spent many months teaching Elodie so she would have some means to defend herself. The learning of numbers and calculations were so very difficult for her to remember, so it took much effort to learn the Cantrip in this way, so much so she learned only a handful of others with help from Mama guiding her to find the right flows without the right numbers. Now though? Now Elodie wished she spent more time learning Cantrips, if only to keep herself feeling fresh and smelling clean as she stood her ground alongside the soldiers guarding Adsila of the Wind.
Who opened up the battle with a shot from her warbow, a thick and massive weapon that was longer than Elodie was tall even when bent like a half-moon by the string. The arrow sang through the air and struck its rotting target with force enough to destroy the head, only to erupt in a burst of Radiant light to cleanse away the sliver of the Wendisa still occupying the flesh and even injure the slivers occupying other puppets nearby. The fractured spirit entombed within the dead flesh was still trapped and chained, but would eventually work its way free if left untended. Whether it continued on along its journey as it should or roamed the lands to be captured by the Great Enemy once more or even become Chindi in time, no one could say, which was why it was also good to know some of the Evil-Chasing Holy Way.
Granted, the Enemy-Ghost-Capturing Way was better at ensuring Elodie survived to free those shackled slivers of Spirit from their chains. Adsila of the Wind had Augmented her arrow with a Cantrip, one which Elodie would need to learn, for it was far stronger than the Green-Flame Blade she readied to strike with. More strength would be most welcome, for these were not the slow shamblers she was accustomed to dealing with. No, these were the frenzied puppets empowered by dark magics who ran as fast as any hunter with little to no regard to what lay under foot. Should they ever slip or tumble, they could well fall and break bones, but they would continue moving forward nonetheless for they knew no pain of flesh. And so they came in droves towards Elodie as the Pathfinders loosed their arrows at their foes, most of which were mundane arrows while one or two knew the trip of applying Cantrips to their projectiles.
One was named Noah and spoke only English, though he understood enough French to get by. He favoured arrows which lodged themselves into flesh and burst in a spray of Acid which ate away a bone and tissue. It mattered not if his arrows struck the head or heart, either one was a deathblow to the empowered puppets, though oftentimes they carried on for a few steps more before dropping in place. The other was Aubrey, who was even more stern and severe than Adsila of the Wind, often scowling and grumbling about having to look after the ‘wet behind the ears’ Elodie. There was no moisture behind her ears, so she did not understand the term, only that it was a mean-spirited moniker which she did not much like.
There was no helping it though, for Aubrey was a brave among braves, able to unleash powerful arrows that pierced through multiple targets and brought down anything in their path. It was no Cantrip, but a genuine Ability as Howie would say, one that was no doubt passed down by her tribe which she refused to identify. Though she was a tiny, slip of a woman wielding a shortbow even Elodie could draw, her shots were far more powerful than they had any right to be and spiralled with magic as she loosed them into the horde to strike multiple targets with each arrow.
Elodie was not very good with a bow, as she much preferred to hunt with speed and fang. That’s how Destroyer of Burrows hunted after all, and while Drifting Tides was also a hunter, her prey never fought back. As for the rest? They were no hunters, only grazers, foragers, and perhaps opportunistic eaters, as a kiccaw would eat almost anything that might appeal, if only because food was so scarce amongst the desert dunes.
Perhaps Elodie should return home and seek out a wulf Spirit to Call upon, one that could teach her the true way of the hunt. Then again, the way the wulves hunted was very different from the way of men, so it was mostly wistful thinking as Elodie wanted to go home and see Mama and Papa and everyone else again. She felt so very alone in the centre of this unwelcoming pack, one that fought in tandem as they stood their ground against the horde. Dawson, Blake, Remi, and Neuville served as the Vanguard, drawing their spears and shields to meet their foes with steel and fury while leaving no room for the Zombies to push past. The others continued to loose arrows into the horde, all besides Aubrey and Adsila of the Wind who wove their magics in tandem to create something that was more than the sum of the whole.
Aubrey raised her bow and aimed up high, almost straight up at the skies as if she sighted something Elodie did not, but she sensed no sliver of the Wendisa gathering overhead. Nor would she, for the gruff and petite woman aimed not overhead as she loosed her arrow which was shimmering with magic, one that went straight up with a whistling cry, then turned to descend downwards with a howling shriek.
No. Not shriek, but shrieks as a Hail of Projectiles rained down upon the horde, ones that erupted into a bursts of Radiant light that washed over the Zombies and Ghouls hidden within their ranks and burned away not their skin, flesh, or bones, but the corruption hiding within.
And when the short shower of arrows ended, most of the horde was felled as the Zombies dropped like puppets without strings, and the Ghouls died horribly once bereft of the slivers holding their tattered Spirits together. This left only a few straggling puppets still running into the fight, and Elodie was eager to join in, but she waited until Adsila of the Wind nodded and gestured before setting forth. There were only three Zombies left standing by then, including one that assailed her with yet another Fear Spell that lacked any substance whatsoever, so she lashed out with her billhook in a measured strike. Her blade severed the head of two Zombies, while the Green Flame took care of the remainder, a test that was so simple she could have passed with both eyes close.
Or so she thought, for when she struck down the Zombie that cast the Fear Spell, Elodie sensed a darkness unfurling from within, one that shot out towards her and gave her a scare. There was no howl of fury or chilling shivers of alarm, only a phantom sensation of nothingness hurtling towards her, followed by a flash of light that was not light, but flashed like it all the same.
“You are too careless, Child of Many Names and Errant Thoughts,” Adsila of the Wind admonished, making a gesture like she was sweeping a table clear to disperse the remains of the purified sliver, one that had gathered its strength to lay an ambush directed at Elodie’s Spirit. “The Heralds cannot attack a guarded mind, so you must remain cautious and focused in battle to fend off their attacks. I have told you this many times, but still you do not listen.”
Elodie had been guarded, her mind steeled and readied to rebuff the Wendisa as easily as she shook off the Fear Spell, but Adsila of the Wind had acted too quickly to tell. There was no sense saying as much, because the other woman would either not believe Elodie or admonish her all the same. “Be not aggrieved, Child of Many Names,” Awenasa of the Rain whispered in a voice only Elodie could hear. “My Sister of the Storm worries for you and for myself, for she knows my Spirit guards you.”
And being a Spirit, an echo of the person she once was, this Awenasa of the Rain was finite and irreparable, so any damage taken in battle against the Great Enemy could never be mended. What grievance, regret, or unfinished business kept the Spirit tethered here was a question Elodie had yet to ask, for Awenasa of the Rain was still in balance with herself and had no need to be sent on her way just yet. In fact, she was so in balance, she could even be Called upon by one such as a Papa, but Elodie did not have his gifts.
Of course, such a working would require great magics to function, perhaps more than the Frontier could sustain, as Awenasa of the Rain had been a powerful hata?ii and Pathfinder in life, one to match her Storm Sister Adsila of the Wind. Calling a Spirit such as that would be a grand undertaking, requiring more magic than even three of Papa’s bears, so even if Elodie was capable, she would still fall short of Calling upon Awenasa of the Rain.
So again, Elodie swallowed her pique and accepted Adsila of the Wind’s admonitions, even though she felt she did not deserve it. If the next few years were to all be like this, Elodie was not sure if she could stick through it. As much as she wished to learn the Enemy-Ghost-Capturing Way and do what she could to combat the Great Enemy, she could not fathom doing so if her life was joyless and cheerless the entire time. There were no young people her age in the Pathfinders either, or at least none in the Deadlands thus far, and perhaps there would not be any for several years yet, as the Métis were very protective of their young.
Even having Elodie here was a matter of debate, as there were some Pathfinders in the group who believed her training should take place elsewhere. Adsila of the Wind disagreed, but mostly because she was dedicated to her work here and did not wish to put it aside just to teach Elodie. Nor did Elodie care for any book learning in a stuffy building somewhere. She much preferred to be out in the swamp and learn as she went, even if there was no good cheer to be had.
Or so she thought, right up until they arrived at the next waystation just before nightfall and found that it was already occupied. The Pathfinders went on the alert, and sent out Dawson to approach and announce their arrival while the rest of them hid in the shadows and trees. Aubrey was especially impressive as she all but ran up the tall trunk of a sticky candlebark tree, one with plenty ghostsage and sweetgrass growing at its base that Elodie would harvest for her ceremony as soon as it was safe.
Which would be in the morning most likely, because Dawson’s silent signal informed them that the people inside the waystation were not hostile, but not considered friendly either. Elodie had yet to learn what all their hand signals meant, as they were different from the gestures used in Arcane Sign Language, a secret series of gestures only Pathfinders were allowed to learn. She’d puzzled out some though, so she stretched her arms a little so they would not be stiff if there was a fight. Adsila of the Wind saw this and nodded in approval, and Elodie beamed to see it, only for the other woman to scowl and frown because she saw happiness as weakness and vulnerability.
“She was smiling when I died,” Awenasa of the Rain whispered. “We were happy together, but caught unawares, and I was gone before there was anything she could do.”
Which was so very sad, and Elodie commiserated with the Spirit, shared in her sorrow so that she would not have to bear the burden alone. Elodie also offered to help Adsila of the Wind learn to smile again. An offer the Spirit appreciated, but did not respond to, so Elodie kept that information in mind for future reference should Awenasa of the Rain ever require her aid. Then she followed the Pathfinders in while keeping her eyes and ears open, only to light up in delight upon seeing an all too familiar face. “Hello Noora!” Elodie called out, waving at the pretty girl with her purple hair all brushed over onto one side as she lit up with recognition. “It has been so long since I saw you. I have missed you very much.”
Smiling her half-smile that was so warm and guarded at the same time, Noora strode over and stopped outside the ring of Pathfinders and opened her arms for a hug. Elodie looked to Adsila of the Wind for permission, and her heart and expression both sank when she saw her frowning something fierce, only for the older woman to sigh and wave her along. Then and only then did Elodie run into Noora’s arms, sinking into the smaller woman’s embrace while being careful not to squeeze too tightly. “I’ve missed you too, Ella-dee,” Noora replied, saying her name the same way Howie did just because he thought it funny. Noora wasn’t trying to be funny though, that was just how she spoke, with less of an accent than most, but still a few quirks that were not entirely correct. “Don’t tell me you came all this way and joined up with the Pathfinders just to see little old me? I’m flattered.”
“Non,” Elodie replied, only realize Noora was joking. “I did not know you would be here, though I am very glad to see you. It is so sad and dreary here in the Deadlands, so to see a friendly and familiar face makes me so very happy.” Lifting Noora into the air, she twirled the smaller woman about with a giggle before putting her down. “Also, I did not join the Pathfinders. I joined the Confederated First Nations as an official hata?ii in training.”
Which was different from joining the Pathfinders, but in what specific ways, Elodie could not say.
“Oh?” Raising one perfectly sculpted eyebrow, Noora looked Elodie up and down and asked, “And they sent you here, to the Deadlands?”
“Non,” Elodie replied with a shake of her head. “I was already here, as I came out to find my Path, and this is where it brought me.” Glancing around at the rest of the unfamiliar faces in the outpost, Elodie saw more than a few frowns, mostly from one group that held itself apart from the others, as they too were two packs working in tandem as opposed to one unified front. The first group had most of the frowners even though they were only a handful of rough, angry looking men, ones who wore pristine, white armbands and glared at Elodie and Noora both like they were unwelcome at their fire. The second group was much friendlier, with a mixture of older and younger people looking on with interest for the most part, and more than a few smiles to see Noora reunited with a friend, though there were still three frowners including an older one who seemed to lead the rest and also sported a white armband like the first group.
How very complicated a gathering, one made all the more tense by Elodie’s arrival. Acting like she did not notice the frowns and anger, Elodie allowed Noora to bring her over to the group of youngsters in camp who were all so very heavily armed, but they had smiles aplenty as they introduced themselves. Elodie marked their names down in memory, though it seemed like the only one Noora placed any importance on was Tammy, who’s father Leonard was the armband wearing frowning man in charge of this group. He took his cues from someone in the second group, the ones with armbands that seemed important, but they worked hard to hide this. Elodie wanted to ask, but she did not know if it was rude, so she kept silent as Noora reached out to squeeze Tammy’s hand ever so gently while offering a sweet and sultry smile that said she had nothing to worry about. Tammy did not believe her, not entirely, and she only held on for a little longer before breaking away and greeting Elodie with a strained smile while asking how they knew each other.
Elodie answered in broad strokes, because there was not so very much to say. It was good to see that Noora had found her path though, for gone was the nervous and skittish colt who feigned calm confidence so well, and in her place was a calm and determined woman who was every bit as brash and daring as Howie. “So how did you end up here in the Deadlands?” Elodie asked, so very curious to learn how Noora had changed so very much in a few short months. It was subtle to those who did not know her, but clear as day to Elodie. “Howie only said you moved downriver for work, but he did not say you were working in the Deadlands.”
Tammy frowned to hear Howie’s name, and Noora flinched just a little, but her smile came back in full force as she explained, “Well, Tammy recruited me out of Basic to work for her dad’s transportation company, and one of their biggest contracts is delivering supplies for Aultman and Sons stationed here in the Deadlands.” Though she did not shout, Noora was very purposeful in tone, speaking slowly and clearly so that the Pathfinders would hear her. Elodie did not understand why, but they all took notice of this fact, and were clearly unhappy to learn this. Likely because most did not look fondly upon the company Aultman and Sons, as they did things in ways that made it difficult for others to survive. That was why Dawson signalled that the people were not hostile, but not friendly, because the Métis Nation was at odds with the armband wearing Aultman and Sons. Why the others did not simply band together against the company, Elodie could not say, but outsider ways were strange and incomprehensible at times, so she never bothered to ask.
As for Noora, she had grown so much because she’d spent the winter cutting her teeth on the Soulless here in the Deadlands, learning to fight off the Aberration hordes while running the route once every month. “Three weeks travel, and one week of rest,” Noora said with a smile as her eyes darted over towards Tammy after telling a few stories of her escapades out here. “That’s been life for me for the last few months, and will likely stay that way for a good while longer yet.”
“It better,” Leonard loudly interjected, grumbling as he accepted a bowl of thick and unappetizing stew that had been cooked over the campfire. “You’re contracted for three years total, and even then, I’m losing money and sleep having to train you brats up.” With her back turned to the other man, Noora rolled her eyes, ones that went hard and scary like Howie’s sometimes did when he added, “Bad enough you brung back a gypsy Tammy, but now you gonna make friends with her slope pet too?”
The group of scowling men chuckled to hear it, but kept their hands close to their weapons while they did. Elodie also scowled to hear it, as she was no one’s pet. As for Noora, she steeled her nerves and masked her expression before turning to Leonard with a smile. “Once again,” she said, in a sweet and cordial tone that was clearly forced. “Just because my parents were Aegyptian, does not make me a gypsy.”
“Whatever,” Leonard scoffed. “Just to be clear, I ain’t feedin’ the Injun. You can dance on back to your own fire missy, because this ain’t no soup kitchen for the hungry.”
So Elodie was not welcome at this fire either, but Noora was warm and sweet as always as she brought Elodie and Tammy to chat away from Leonard and the rest and closer to the Pathfinders. The men all kept watch, while the youngsters gave a mix of pained and apologetic looks or pretended not to notice. As soon as they were out of earshot, Noora heaved a sigh and said, “I know he’s your dad, Tammy, but if he keeps talking to me like that...”
“I’m sorry,” Tammy whispered, who was pretty and freckled and all red with shame. “After Mama passed, he fell in with the Order, and he’s been getting worse and worse. He didn’t even tell me he sold off 40% of his company to Aultman and Sons, a company he built from the ground up all by himself and always said he’d run with me and my brothers.” Tammy heaved a long, sad sigh, and though Noora looked like she wanted to reach out and offer a hand or more in comfort, Tammy shook her head ever so slightly. She was afraid of being seen accepting comfort from Noora, though Elodie did not understand why, nor did she understand why Tammy was so upset when Elodie sidled in closer to wrap her arms around Noora and share warmth and solace.
“This is just how Elodie is,” Noora explained, even though no one asked. “She’s big on hugs and snuggling, though she’s a little clingier than I remember.”
“I am very sad and lonely here in the Deadlands,” Elodie declared, clutching Noora that much tighter for fear of the other girl breaking away. “I came here with Howie, Chrissy, and Astrid, as well as Monsieur –” Out of the corner of her eye, Elodie saw Adsila of the Wind sit upright and shake her head. Only then did she remember that the Askefjords were also at odds with the company Aultman and Sons, so Elodie changed what she was about to say. “Astrid’s father and brother. We have since separated though, and I am lonely because the Pathfinders do not wish to be friendly, and this makes me sad.”
Adsila of the Wind pursed her lips again, but Elodie was only speaking the truth. The older woman could choose to not be friendly, but all the stern discipline in the world could not keep Elodie from feeling sad and lonely.
“I’m sure they’ll warm up soon enough,” Noora said, all smiles and warmth as she squeezed Elodie back. “…You said Howie’s here too?” There was a note of nervousness in her voice, as if she did not want to see Howie, which did not make sense since their scents had once been so entwined it was different to tell who was who from smell alone. “You don’t mean here here, right? Like, he’s not on his way to this waystation, is he?”
“Non,” Elodie replied. “We parted ways, and he left to hunt more Aberrations with Lord Edward Elton of Chelveston, the Sovereign’s Talon and Harbinger of the Crown, as well as Sir Aaron Bailey and Sir Luther Rawlings.” Elodie blinked to see Tammy and Noora both blanche to hear it, so she added, “They are all very kind and friendly people who love Howie and Chrissy very much.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Noora replied, reaching up with a hand covered in metal to touch Elodie’s nose. It was like Howie’s Prosthetic turned into a glove, but metal instead of wood, and glowed with magics similar to Astrid’s Skitterbot, but far more powerful, even more so than Howie’s guns.
Elodie did not like it much, so she crinkled her nose just a bit before sinking down to rest her head atop Noora’s. “You say you are leaving the Deadlands soon? Where do you live? Could I come visit if I am feeling lonely?”
“Yes, Stonesford, and absolutely,” Noora replied. “We’re behind schedule since all the Abby activity kept us penned in for an extra two nights, but I’m ready to get out of this swamp and enjoy my week off.” Again, Noora’s eyes darted over to Tammy, whose cheeks turned even redder than before.
Elodie heaved a sigh and said, “I do not know when I will have time to rest, but when I do, I would like to see you very much. I am happy to know I have at least one friend close by, and I hope our paths cross more often in the future.”
“Count on it,” Noora said, with a twinkle in her eye as she took a seat by the fire and pulled Tammy and Elodie along with her. “Now, tell me all about what you’ve been up to, and how your trip’s been so far.”
Elodie was about to begin, but then Adsila of the Wind strode over, so she made ready to stand. The older woman gestured for her to remain seated however, and handed her a piece of jerky and strips of dried fruit. “Dinner will be another hour,” she said, offering some more to the other girls. “Your friends are welcome to join us, Elodie.” Hesitating just a bit, Adsila of the Wind reached out and patted Elodie’s hair in an unexpected show of affection. “You did well today. Lessons can wait, so take the night to catch up.”
Elodie blinked to hear it, then smiled and nodded. The other woman scowled again, but it was not the same scowl as before. The others were directed at Elodie, but this time, her scowl was directed inwards at herself as she turned about heel and stalked off.
“She seems nice,” Noora said, and Elodie nodded to hear it.
“She is,” Elodie replied, realizing that Adsila of the Wind had not known Elodie had been sad and lonely until she gave voice to her frustrations just now, and this was her way of apologizing for it. It was not much, but it was a start, and it gave her fresh hope for the future as she looked forward to joining her new pack.
One without Howie, but perhaps their paths would also cross sometime sooner rather than later. Elodie was not greedy though, and she contented herself with Noora’s company for tonight. As for what tomorrow might bring, she would have to simply wait and see, and continue along her path one day at a time.
