I'll Step Where You Step

When night had settled over the settlement, everything changed. Fires had been lit along the riverbank and a bonfire was ablaze where the blessing exchange had occurred. Drums, wooden flutes and stringed instruments replaced the tension in the air with music.

Most of the warriors had changed out of their normal clothing. I thought they forgot to change into something else because now they were considerably less clothed.

Some of the southern warriors now wore many more feathers with markings painted on their bare chests, arms and legs. Northern warriors still favored fur, but added a significant amount of bone to the ensemble.

It was entertaining to watch at first. Then several oracles approached me. An older northern woman pulled at the bottom of my shirt as I held it down. Another oracle said something from behind me and began loosening my belt.

“You have no idea the level of hell I went through to earn these trousers. I’m not handing them over willingly.”

Waki sat near the fire smoking her pipe and watching with absolutely no intention of helping. “They are preparing you.”

I looked up at her. “I thought I had finally lost my appeal as a sacrifice.” The northern oracle pulled harder. I slapped her hand away. “I can't imagine I taste good.”

“If we used you as a sacrifice, this tribe would be cursed. It is a ceremony asking the gods for protection.”

Two southern oracles arrived carrying bowls of paint. The attention was apparently because I was Redborn. Those who pledged to a god received the symbols associated with that blessing. Everyone else got something simple to please the spirits. I had collected the mark of three gods and that was causing arguments over which markings were supposed to go where.

One oracle painted an orange line down my arm. Another immediately wiped part of it away and replaced it with blue. A northern woman objected as a third reached for my trousers again.

“Stop.”

Nobody stopped. I looked at Waki. “You are an oracle too. Do something about this.”

“I am doing something.”

“You are smoking.”

“Yes. Ceremoniously.”

Someone placed a leather band around my head. Feathers hung from one side. A northern oracle added a small bear carved out of bone to the other.

I removed it. She put it back.

I removed it again. She slapped my hand.

“This ceremony is rapidly losing my support.”

Nimiwa finally appeared nearby. Someone called to her from the group. Nimiwa answered, listened to the argument for a moment, then frowned and made them step back.

“They want make Redborn protected.”

I folded my arms. “I would feel more protected if everyone left me alone.”

She looked over at Waki. “Waki don’t do?”

“I would definitely feel more protected if she left me alone.”

“Uri no want?”

I sighed and pulled my shirt over my head. The other oracles began moving closer again. “Nimi, please bestow your protection on me.” Nimiwa shooed the other oracles away towards the fire. After they left she crouched beside several bowls they had abandoned. She opened the pouch at her waist and began searching through it.

I recognized what she removed. Several long whiskers. She tied them together using a thin leather cord. “Are those from the mountain cat?”

“Yes.”

“The ones you insisted we couldn't leave behind.”

“Yes. Cat walks dark. Climbs stone. Does not fall.” She touched one whisker. “Returns home.” She dipped the end into orange pigment and drew a line over my right shoulder. Blue went over the left. Red paint followed across my chest and down the center of my stomach.

“What does this one mean?” I asked, pointing to the blue line.

“Protection.”

“And that?”

“Return.”

She applied another mark along my ribs. “And that?”

“Do not die.” She picked up the ridiculous feathered headband.

“Also Protection?”

“Yes.”

“This looks ridiculous. There is a bear hanging from it.”

“Kumakun.”

“I know who the bear is.”

She raised it and I took a step back. Nimiwa's eyes narrowed.

Waki spoke from beside the fire. “Wear it. Or I take over the northern half of the oracle’s duty.”

I looked at her. She was dressed up as well. Dark paint covered her shoulders and stomach. “You look ridiculous too.”

“I look excellent.”

Nimiwa took advantage of the distraction and shoved the band onto my head. Feathers drooped in front of one eye and Kumakun bumped against my temple. Nimiwa stepped back. “Good.” Her smile was finally back.

“I feel very protected.”

Nimiwa nodded, apparently taking that seriously. Someone near the fire called her name. She answered, then looked down at what she was wearing.

Compared to everyone else, she was still dressed for travel.

“I change.”

Looking at the other southern oracles and seeing significantly more feathers and considerably less everything else, I had renewed reason to live. At least for tonight. As Nimiwa hurried away, Waki tapped a stump beside her. “Come.”

“I've already been decorated.”

“You have been decorated by a southern oracle.”

“You have finally decided to accept me as a Redborn?”

Waki studied the marks across my chest. “Yes.”

That was disappointingly easy.

“What changed?”

“You.” She tapped the stump beside her. “Sit.”

I scoffed at that, walked over and sat beside her. “I still hate you.”

Up close, her ceremonial garb was even less convincing as clothing. A bear skull sat on her head with a hide draped over her back. Bone ornaments hung from straps and necklaces, covering just enough to pretend the north cared about modesty. “You're staring,” she said.

My eyes shot back towards the fire. “I was appreciating the cultural differences.”

“Of course.” She took another drag from her pipe and passed it to me.

Around us, the preparations continued. Warriors sat while oracles painted symbols across shoulders and backs. Others tied feathers, bones, teeth and small carved figures into hair or around wrists. Some of the markings were elaborate. Others were only a few lines. I was the only one still wearing pants.

“What exactly are they asking protection from?” I asked.

“The gods are not expected to stop every blade.” Waki left me with her pipe and reached for one of the bowls of paint nearby. “The ceremony asks that warriors be seen.”

“By the gods?”

“By the gods. By the spirits. By those who came before us.”

She dipped two fingers into black pigment.

“And if they are seen?”

“They may be guided home.”

That made the feathers and bones feel slightly less ridiculous. Waki painted a short black line beneath the orange mark on my arm.

“Nimiwa already did this?”

“Nimiwa gave you southern protection. You carry Kumakun too.”

At least I had a pipe. She added another mark near my wrist, then turned my hand palm-up. Her thumb ran across Kumakun's mark. “We ask for strength to return what was borrowed.”

“Borrowed?”

“Life. Blood. Courage.” She painted around the mark without covering it. Her fingers lingered longer than necessary.

“You are being remarkably gentle for someone who recently threatened to sell an entire tribe.”

“I did not expect you to forget.”

“I haven't.”

“I know.”

She released my hand and picked up another bowl. “Turn.” She shoved my shoulder and I obeyed. Her fingers touched between my shoulder blades. “We have a different philosophy,” she said. “The front is what you face. The back is what you trust others to protect.”

“For someone carrying around more than a dozen knives, I take it you don’t practice what you preach.”

She didn’t answer. Her fingers moved slowly across my back. One line, then another. It started to feel like she was taking longer than necessary. “Are you actually working, or are you placing a curse on me?”

Her hand moved to my shoulder. Then instead of reaching around, Waki shifted closer. Her bare thigh pressed against mine. I glanced sideways. She was watching the paint.

“You seem to take a long time to paint some lines.”

“I am performing oracle duties.”

“Nimiwa uses that excuse too.”

“Nimiwa doesn't understand when she is touching a man.” Waki's mouth curved slightly. Her fingers moved over my shoulder and down my chest, connecting the black line to one of Nimiwa's red marks.

“You are trying something.”

“I am painting you.”

“I think you finished.”

“Yes.” She leaned closer to my ear. “You have spent several days deciding what everyone else needs.” Her hand rested against my chest. “What do you want from me?”

“I won’t forgive you.”

Her hand fell away. “Do you always intend to hate me?”

“I’m not the one you should be asking for forgiveness from.”

She plucked the pipe from my mouth and leaned back. “After Harrowford, I will ask the elders for permanent peace between our tribes.”

A moment later Nimiwa reemerged and I forgot whatever Waki had been trying to make me say. Southern ceremonial clothing had been designed by people who believed feathers could replace leather.

Drums grew louder and warriors had begun forming circles around the fires. The dance was nothing like anything I had ever seen. Feet struck the ground in rhythm with the drums. Painted bodies turned around the fires, shoulders rolling and arms lifting. Southern feathers shook with each movement while northern ornaments of bone and stone clicked together. Lines formed and broke apart. Partners changed. Warriors shouted whenever the drums accelerated.

Nobody appeared particularly concerned that many of them might die tomorrow. Kumakun waddled directly into the mob and stopped in front of Keme. The little bear god lifted both paws. Keme looked at Waki who shrugged. Keme lifted his arms in the air.

Kumakun bounced twice. Keme copied him. The warriors around them erupted. Across the fire, Tawa had climbed onto one of the drums. He began striking the stretched hide with both feet while the actual drummer continued around him. The rhythm deteriorated immediately but nobody dared remove the sun god.

“I thought ceremonies were supposed to make gods appear dignified,” I said.

Nimiwa watched Tawa miss the rhythm for the fourth consecutive beat. She shook her head, which did amazing things to the feathers. “No,” she said, then grabbed my wrist. “Come. Dance.”

“I don't dance.” Nimiwa pulled harder. “I am forty.” She continued pulling. “My knees are still recovering from the mountain.” She pulled me into the circle.

I immediately became aware that everyone else knew what they were doing. Nimiwa didn't seem bothered. She moved in front of me. Feathers fanned from her hips and shoulders. Blue and orange paint followed the lines of her body. Every step landed with the drums. Her arms moved with the other oracles without needing to look. She belonged here.

More importantly, she knew she belonged here. Nimiwa turned once, then stepped beside me. “Like this.” She moved her right foot. I copied her. “Then.” Left. I followed. She turned.

I attempted the same thing and nearly collided with an elderly northern woman but Nimiwa caught my arm. She reset my feet and we did it again. When I finally looked up, Nimiwa was smiling. She laughed and moved away.

I lost the rhythm almost immediately. “Nimi!” She stepped back toward me.

“Follow.”

“I am trying.”

She shook her head and turned around, stepping directly in front of me. She reached back, caught both wrists and placed my hands against her hips. “Step where I step.”

I froze. Nimiwa looked back over her shoulder. Even now there was no embarrassment in her expression. Her hips shifted beneath my hands and I concentrated on her feet with a seriousness normally reserved for avoiding death. Right. Left. Step. Turn. The feathers at her waist brushed against my wrists.

We moved with the circle. Kumakun had acquired two children and was leading them through a sequence that consisted mostly of bouncing, falling onto his rear and getting back up. Tawa had abandoned the drum and was now standing on Keme's shoulder, waving both arms as though personally responsible for the entire ceremony.

Hanwi was not with them. I spotted her eyes reflecting the firelight away from the group. She sat alone, crouched down with her arms folded around herself like wings, watching.

I went to leave the circle and Nimiwa caught my arm. “Wrong.”

“I know. I'll return.”

Hanwi didn't move when I approached. “You are missing the ceremony.”

“I am observing it.” She watched everyone dance.

I held out my hand. “Join them.”

Hanwi looked at it. “That would make me a participant. Participation changes what is being observed.”

“Then observe something different.”

She looked from my hand to the dancers. “That is an imprecise method.”

I held my hand out farther. “Try it once.”

She placed her much smaller hand into it and I pulled her upright. When we reached the fire, Nimiwa's face lit up. She hurried over and spoke quickly in Elvish, then demonstrated the first movement. Hanwi copied it exactly. Then second and third. Within a minute she was better than I was.

Nimiwa took both of Hanwi's hands and pulled her into the next movement. Hanwi followed her with a serious expression but the feathers along her arms exposed the truth. They were usually down and close to her body. Now they were open and fluttering with each turn.

I stood beside the fire wearing feathers and body paint while two goddesses danced badly enough that I couldn’t help laughing.

Nimiwa reached toward me.

“Uri.”

I looked at her hand and took it.

This time she didn't need to tell me where to step.