Harokee had decided that the time had come.  There was a rasp in his lungs when he breathed and his bones creaked discomfortingly when he walked.  These days it was ever harder to awaken in the morning and his spear felt heavy in his hand.  The string of his bow was too tight and hard to pull.  When he hunted, twigs would snap from time to time under his bare feet.  In short, he had grown old and the time had come to pass along his knowledge and his trust into a new apprentice.

He had called this dance for the purpose of choosing his apprentice; the one who would, one day, hold the faith and trust of the entire tribe.  The child that sat before him today would be shaman in a few short years and they would have to be able to provide not only to the healing and faith of their fellows, but to call down the tears of the moon for the purpose of weaving the magicks that meant so much to the survival and faith of the clan.

Harokee breathed deeply, feeling the tightness in his chest, and bowed his head.  Behind the lids of his eyes he saw a single flicker of flame, the remains of afterimage caused by staring at the bonfire in the middle of the clan camp.  But there was meaning in the little flicker behind his eyelids.  One of the youngsters out there would embody that flame, starting small and timid at first, but growing in time to rage like the bonfire that now beckoned Harokee.  The task was in finding the one who would, in time, blaze so bright under the light of the moons and stars.

The sound of the drums were beating through his head now as he allowed himself to hear them.  The men of the clan had taken up the carefully carved and polished drums with the skins of deer pulled tight over the tops of them.  They were pounding a mad staccato that made Harokee's fingers itch.  Old Sewhaneewah raised her cracked voice into the air as she started a chant that the women took up in time with her.  Now Harokee could feel the muscles of his arms, chests and legs twitch in anticipation.

Harokee breathed deep from his place in the shadows, just beyond the light of the bonfire, and cast his senses outward.  He felt the mana move through him as it rained down from the moons and Elanthia's sister planets above him in the skies.  Katamba, blackness swallowed by blackness, was new this night and distant.  Xibar, normally bright as a candle in Harokee's eyes, was dark as well as Elanthia gave birth to it once again, new and virgin under Eluned's hands.  Yavash, blood tears from the hunt, and perhaps, Harokee mused, mourning for his decision to prepare his successor.  The massive disk was pacing up from across the horizon, new and beaming.  Its shine would soon put the bonfire to shame.

He drew the power of the moons to himself and started to give himself to the dance that jittered in his bones.  A low chant rumbled from his throat as he approached the dance fire and dancers who had already gathered there.  Sweat already sheened their skin as they danced in their breechcloths.  The coolness in the air also breezed over Harokee's skin, but he didn't give much attention to it.  How many winters had he lived through?  How many sweltering summers?

Just before he came into sight of the dancers, drummers and chanters, as well as the youths who waited nervously to know if they would be his apprentice, Harokee gestured and let flow the magic that he called into himself.  There was a brilliant flash of light out of which he suddenly appeared before the assemblage.  He heard the desired affect from the gathered members of the tribe as they gasped in unison at the bright light and his sudden appearance.

Harokee added his voice to Sewhaneewah's chant as he made his first turns around the fire in a rapid, spinning dance.  He gave a small leap to his left and hopped in a circle on his left foot, his balance low, arms at his side and right leg slightly elevated as he made the tight circle.  Another small leap to his left and this time he hopped on his right foot.  This he continued for another few circuits of the fire.  Speed through minimal movement, voice steady and rumbling as the balls of his feet kicked up dust in his passage.

And then the visions came to him.  This was the Dance of Choosing and he remembered his own choosing very well, even after all these passings of the seasons in their cycles.  He remembered sitting with his own master during the night, far from the clan and looking up at the heavens and the animals that walked, ran, slithered, swam and flew across the nighttime skies.  Their skins were spangled in twinkling diamonds of stars.  Always, always he had wanted to be a hawk, to fly high in the skies so close to those twinkling gems.  To be one with the animals and then give his screeching cry to all that could hear him.  To dive fast and hard to the land below where he spied the field mouse.  So many times he imagined his talons grasping into the soft flesh and fur of the field mouse and then beating high upwards again with his prey shivering its death in his claws.  Whenever he thought these dreams he felt his pulse race and his head go light.

He danced this dream before the assembled people of his clan and the elation came over him.  Time after time he circled the fire, feeling the heat wash over him, springing sweat from his pores as the breeze washed over him, cooling him again.  He spread out his arms and felt the currents of the air move along his feathers.  Before his clan he glided, swooped, soared and dove upon his prey.  With a great screech of triumph he rose again with his prey in his talons as it struggled for its life.  And the life of the prey fed him, strengthened him and made him whole.

Then the bear came over him and his dance slowed as the strong, lumbering gate of the bear filled him and he snuffled at the scents of mingled sweat, anticipation and the fragrances of the burning woods near him.  With a swipe of his paw he scattered a clump of burning branches about him and growled his impatience at the world.  He snuffled after the scent of berries and roots and his dim eyes searched for brook or stream that might carry the sweet succulence of fish with which to fill his belly.

And one after another the beasts came over him and filled his presence and he gave room to each of them.  The sprightly deer, the foolish, wandering lamb, the ever hungry goat bahhing out his complaint.  Even the faithful dog and self-serving cat came upon him, only to give way to the slithering snake.  Deep-diving fish and plodding cow, which shifted to the light-footed but timid cougar upon the rocky outcrops.  Finally, Harokee came back to the final animal, the human form.

His dance stopped before his assembled people.  The drums thumped thrice and fell still as did the chanting of the women.  Harokee stood before the young men and women who had, this very turn of the seasons, come into their first majorities.  The men who sat before him, pensive and fidgeting, had not yet sprouted their beards.  The women who sat before him, equally pensive, had not yet filled out their breasts or widened their hips.  They were young, very young, but they were of age and it was from them that Harokee would choose his apprentice and successor.

From his belt he removed his fetish bag, filled with the odd pieces that made up his life and remembrances.  He gave it to the first woman in the line of the youths who were eligible to become his pupil.  Timidly the girl, Tatiwanee, took it and quickly dipped her hand within.  From within she pulled a snatch of tawny fur.  The fur came from the first cougar that Harokee, then her own age, had hunted and killed with his spear.

She passed the bag to the next in line, her hands wrapping around the fur as she regarded Harokee with hopeful eyes.  The next in line was a boy, Jitondree, who drew forth a lace of leather, the last bit that remained from Harokee's baby swaddling.  Onwards the bag moved.

The next boy, Kinwei, pulled a bear claw from the bag and regarded it thoughtfully for a few moments before he remembered to pass the bag along.  There was something in this boy's eyes that caught Harokee's attention.  A deeper understanding that those before him had not connected with the things that were in his bag of memories.  The bag moved on.

The next lad, Sonwhe, dove his fingers into the bag and drew forth a snail shell.  He blinked at it a few times and turned it on his fingers.  Finally he saw a glimmer of the pearlescence within the turning shell and squinted it at as his he absently passed the bag along to the next in line.

The next, a girl named Hichin'hae, gasped as she wrapped her fingers around an object in the bag and Harokee clucked his tongue at himself more than at her.  He had a piece of blade still in the bag, a point of a carving knife that had long ago broken off.  He never could understand why he kept the knife fragment.  Yet that was how the fetish bags worked.  Any piece that was part of you, or that you had come across during your life had a place, somewhere, in the bag.

Hichin'hae pulled her fingers from the bag and there was a bead of blood on her finger.  She passed the bag on with her good hand and then withdrew the blade from the tip of her finger and looked at him fiercely, trying hard to prove her strength, her worth to him.  She did not need to do such.  He could tell it in her.  There was flame in her heart, but was it the right flame?

The final boy, Akasis'tai, shook out the final object in the bag and Harokee prevented himself from chuckling at him.  He had learned wariness from the girl with the knife fragment.  He would be a wily one in time.  The object that Akasis'tai shook from the bag fluttered slowly to the ground and was a feather plucked from some fowl that Harokee had trapped many years before and eaten.  It had roasted well.

The bag was empty and it came back to Harokee.  He took it and held it in his hands for a moment before raising it to his nose to take in its scent one last time.  There was the smell of leather and sweat and memories scattered, some nearly lost.  Then he cast the bag into the fire.  The magic of the bag had been used to find his apprentice.  The objects that these young men and women had drawn and their reactions to them would decide who was to follow at his side the rest of his days until he felt they were ready to take his duties.

Harokee turned to the first young woman, Tatiwanee, who had drawn the snatch of cougar fur.  "I took that swatch from my first kill, which blooded my spear for the first time.  Carry it with you and hunt well for the clan.  Your work will feed your family and the families of others.  Your place will be to track and follow the spoor of your prey.  When you become a mother you will have the instinct of the protective cat who will move home and kit to keep your children safe, willing to give your own life for their safety."

To Jitondree he gave a tight smile.  "You will not hunt."  The air whooshed from the young man's lungs in disbelief at the words and Harokee could see tears glimmer in the corners of his eyes.  "Your hands were meant for other things.  You will tan for the clan and make clothes that will keep all warm in the winters when the wind blows cold and the fur will feel like clay in your hands and the clay shall be like flesh between your fingers.  All these you will mold and your service to the clan will be indispensable."

Hesitantly, Jitondree nodded to Harokee and took a deep breath of courage.

The holder of the bear claw met Harokee's eyes as Harokee turned his attention to him.  There was neither an abundance of courage or fear in those eyes.  Merely a quiet studiousness that made Harokee, himself, think for a moment.  "I took that claw from the bear that I brought down to prove my worthiness to be shaman of this clan.  I hunted the bear and fought the bear without my spear nor bow nor knife.  With merely cunning and the sureness of my hands I brought down the bear and it fed this clan.  When I brought it back to the camp I was shaman.

"You shall be my apprentice."

There were mutterings and exclamations as the hopes of families were shattered and the quiet betting that had gone on before the dance was decided.  Harokee held up his hand for silence and received it.

Next he turned to Sonwhe, the one that held the snail shell.  "What is that in your hand?" Harokee asked, inclining his head to the shell.

"A snail's shell," the boy said, matter of factly.  He did not seem overly concerned that he had not been named the shaman's chosen.  A reed would often bend in the wind of the storm, but still it stood day in and day out.

"Tell me about it," Harokee coaxed.

Sonwhe seemed to give a nearly imperceptible shrug of his shoulders and looked at the snail shell.  "It grew with the snail," the young man said.  "It was the home of the snail and its shield.  Shaped like a spiral." A more noticeable shrug now.  "Moving from inward out."

"Not from out, inward?" Harokee queried.

The young man shook his head.  "No, the shell grew outward as the snail grew."

Harokee nodded.  "On the morrow you will take a message from me to the Imperial City.  There you will deliver the message to the shaman who sits amongst other wise men and women of many races and tell him that I have taken my final apprentice who will, in time, take my place in the tribe."

There were surprised mutters from the clansmen and clanswomen at this news.  The lad didn't even blink at the news that he would be sent away from the tribe to such an alien place as the old Imperial City.  He merely nodded his understanding to Harokee and kept his place, covering the snail shell with both of his hands.

Next Harokee turned to the young woman who had found the blade fragment and cut her finger upon it.  "Are you handfasted or promised in marriage, Hichin'hae?" he asked pointedly.

She shook her at him.  "No."

"And do you know of the chieftain's son, Kimchipik?"

She blinked in surprise at this and nodded.  "Yes."

"The two of you shall marry in one turn of the seasons.  But Kimchipik shall never be chief of this clan."

The surprise at these words were more audible than anything that had passed before.  Again, Harokee raised his hand and the gathered clan members eventually went silent.  The sharp look that the chief of the tribe shot Harokee spoke the volumes that all of them wished to speak.

To the final young man Harokee said, "You will have the duty of keeping our lore in time, Akasis'tai.  This is a task as important and honored as either chief or shaman.  You will sift the words and events of the clan and record them for all time that we may remember what came before and have them always."

The young man blinked in surprise.  So did the current keeper of the clan's lore who was childless, his wife stricken barren by illness soon after their marriage.

"Thus the bag has been emptied and my apprentice chosen.  What I have spoken will come to pass in time.  Before long I shall leave friends and family behind and soar with the hawks in the sky, as I have always dreamed of doing.  My lore I will pass along and there shall always be a keeper of the shaman's knowledge to help guide the clan and its chief.  My fetish bag is gone and I will not replace it.  In time my apprentice will fill his own and with it he will see the futures under the light of the moons and learn to drink of their tears even as I learned to do so many turns ago."

Harokee pulled the mana from the tears of the moon again and this time he wove it into a cloak of shadows that hid him from the view of his clansmen and clanswomen.  Silently, he hied himself from them while keeping the cloak about him.  He was tired from his dance and exertions, his breath was starting to rasp in his lungs again even as his joints grated painfully.

Harokee's new apprentice sat on the shaman's bed, still tightly clutching the bear claw in his hand and looking at the shaman sheepishly.  Harokee mumbled to himself as he remember that the apprenticeship would indeed start this very day.  It would be the molding of the boy's life and the twilight of Harokee's own.  He supposed that it would be just as well to let the boy know that the shamans were just as inglorious in the morning as any other person in the tribe.

"You eaten?" Harokee asked as he removed a sack from the wall.  Within were an assortment of nuts, berries and a thick leather tube filled with jerked meat.

"N-no, master," Kinwei stammered.

Harokee nodded as he pulled out a large handful of breakfast for himself and then tossed the sack to the youngster, who nearly dropped it in his jitteriness.

"Are you nervous?" Harokee asked as he gnawed on a piece of jerky.

The boy blushed and nodded as he pulled out a small handful of nuts and berries.  He closed the sack and started to hand it back to Harokee who waved it back to the boy.

"You need meat in you, my lad.  Take what your belly will hold.  And don't be nervous around me.  We've lived in the same tribe all our lives.  I was there at your birth and your majority.  I'm the same man now as I was those other times."

Kinwei nodded, but didn't look convinced.  His jaw ground down on the meat as he kept his eyes focused on Harokee.  Harokee wondered if the youth was waiting for him to change shapes or simply disappear in a puff of smoke.  The old shaman thought to have some fun with his new charge and breathed deeply, concentrating on the mana about him.

The nuts and dried berries in the boy's hand slowly started to glow and then the soft white light shifted into aspects of the colors of the moons.  As Harokee continued to concentrate the colors shifted and moved in a slow dance that paraded over Kinwei's eyes and then he let the glamour drop and once again the nuts and berries in the boy's hand were simple food staples.

There was an audible sigh of air as Kinwei let out the breath that he had been holding.  He hadn't cast the food from his hand in fright, or cried out in terror as many would have when magic was so close to them.

"Do you want to learn how to do that?" Harokee asked.

At first there was no response from the boy as he continued to look at the food in his hand.  His jaw had stopped moving and Harokee imagined the paste of berries and nuts resting in the boy's cheeks and on his tongue and he chuckled at the thought.

"That will be your first task in magic to learn.  Finish up your food and we shall start your lessons."

Kinwei nodded dumbly and slowly picked through the rest of his breakfast.

A few moments later a knock came from the door frame of the hut.  Harokee swallowed what was in his mouth and called out, "Come in, Sonwhe."

The lad that entered still held his snail's shell tightly in his hand.  Harokee wondered how long it would be before the events of the night before finally faded from peoples' memories.

"Keep holding the shell like that and you'll crush it, Sonwhe.  Put it in a pouch or on a thong if you like.  It's not a holy object.  Just a shell.  What counts is what you see in its significance."

"Ah--" It was now Sonwhe's turn to blush, which he did.  He quickly pocketed the shell in a belt pouch and stood ready for the assignment that Harokee has given him the night before.  He was dressed for the journey, wearing a jerkin, pants and soft boots all made of sturdy leather that would not tear easily.  He had a knife at his side and Harokee was sure that his spear was not too far away.  There was an eagerness in the lad's eyes as he savored the chance for such a great responsibility and adventure.  For a quick moment Harokee wondered if he had picked wrong.  Perhaps Sonwhe should have been appointed his apprentice.  But Harokee quelled that fear quickly.  There was no turning back from his decision now.

Harokee waved off any further need for comment.  From a wall peg he took down a leather scroll tube.  The leather was well oiled and the ends were capped in wax to make it waterproof.  A leather strap on the tube allowed for easy carrying when slung over the shoulder.  From his work table Harokee rummaged with his free hand, looking for the map that would lead Sonwhe to the Imperial City.

"I have to warn you," Harokee said as he turned back to Sonwhe.  "I have been to the Imperial City five times in my life.  The shortest amount of time it took me to get there was three months.  I expect it to take you probably twice that long, and that's using the roads which lead to the city."

Harokee could see that the size of the task was coming upon Sonwhe and wondered if the boy was starting to have second thoughts.  Still, Harokee had confidence he would fulfill this task.
 
 Harokee spread the map out on the floor and waved both Sonwhe and his new apprentice, Kinwei, down beside him.  He placed stones on the corners of the maps to keep it flat and went over the routes that Sonwhe would take to the Imperial City.

"The trip shall not be easy and I would suggest you never let your spear away from your side," Harokee warned.

Sonwhe nodded his understanding as he continued to study the map.  Good, Harokee thought.  Even though he will have the map with him he is still memorizing the routes.

Afterwards, Harokee folded up the map and handed it to Sonwhe.  "May the moons be bright on your journey, Sonwhe, and the spirits watch over you."

"Thank you, Master Harokee," Sonwhe said, placing his hand over his heart.  "I will make it to the Imperial City and deliver your message."

Harokee nodded.  "I have every faith in you, Sonwhe.  Much may change by the time you return.  And many of those changes will be in yourself."

The young man swallowed and nodded his understanding.  He looked at Kinwei for a moment and a slight smile passed between the two.  Quickly Sonwhe stepped forward and the two clasped forearms in a sign of brotherhood.  Then Sonwhe hurried from the hut and was gone.

Harokee took a moment to reflect upon the things that he was setting into motion in the tribe.  There would indeed be many changes that would affect all of the tribe and which would last well beyond his own passing.

Next to him Kinwei fought not to fidget as his master's thoughts wandered.  Harokee nodded to himself and drug forward a large woven basket into the center of the dugout.  One by one he pulled from the basket bundles of herbs and spread them out between himself and Kinwei.

"How many of these can you identify and what can you tell me about them?  I don't expect you to know very many of them yet.  You'll learn all of them in time but I need to know what you already know."

Kinwei nodded, sat and began studying the different bundles.  Slowly he spoke out the few that he knew by sight and the even fewer that he knew properties of.  Harokee nodded and began to go over each and every one with his new apprentice and when the night finally fell he put the herbs away.  They shared a brief repast and then Harokee started to tell Kinwei the first of many lessons on how to draw down the tears of the moons.

For now the two of them sat in the midst of the woods.  Neither spoke as they sat with their legs crossed and heads bowed.  Behind closed eyes each interpreted the sounds and sensations of the forest around them in their own way.  For Harokee it was easy to merge with the ebb and flow of the nature about them.  For Kinwei it was still a struggle for him to allow himself to become lost in the presences about him.  There were many barriers against his opening himself.  All had such barriers and was a struggle to break them down, either at whim or permanently.  For some the struggle was easy.  For others it was a thing they never learned to accomplish.

"What do you feel?" Harokee asked quietly.

"The breeze," Kinwei said quickly.  He licked his lips and then turned his head slightly, as if to catch a sound.

"What do you hear?"

"A noise," the young apprentice responded.

"What is the noise?  What is making the noise?"

"A squirrel, I think.  It is running through the leaves."

Harokee nodded.  Again he asked, "What do you feel?"

The boy did not respond at first.  Harokee gave him time and waited.  Finally, Kinwei spoke.  "There is bug crawling on my leg.  It tickles.  I want to swat it away."

"Don't," Harokee said.  "It is a part of the world as much as you and I are.  It is not aware of you, though it crawls on you.  The world is even vaster for it than it is for you.  But it sees so very little of it.  Right now you are it's entire world.  It crawls on your flesh as we sit upon the earth.  In time it will move on to do other things and continue with its life."

The boy nodded, though Harokee did not see him do so.

"What do you hear?" Harokee asked again after a passing of time.

"More squirrels in the brush and in the trees.  A sparrow upon the branches.  Something is eating a leaf, but I am not sure what..."

"What do you feel?"

"The breeze is cooling and the day is waning.  Raccoons are waking up.  The bug is not on me anymore, but it is still near.  There are clouds passing in front of the sun.  When they pass, the air gets cooler."

After a time Harokee asked, "How do you feel?"

It was a long pause before the boy answered again.  Harokee could almost feel the struggle within Kinwei as he worked at finding the right words to say.  Not to please Harokee with what he thought might be the "right" answer, but to express to Harokee what it was that he was feeling.

"I feel quiet.  Calm.  I don't think I could ever open my eyes again, or move my body from this spot.  I-I'm afraid that if I do something will shatter or be lost to me."

"A thousand times the world will shatter around you, Kinwei.  And a thousand times you will rebuild it through what you see, hear, smell and touch.  From within you shall come the making and that making will influence all around you."

Kinwei did not speak again and when the warmth of the sun had stopped shining on them for a long period of time Harokee breathed in deep and slowly opened his eyes.  Evening was settling over them and it was time to head home.  There were many stories to be told by the campfire that night.

He had been walking casually in the shade of the trees that overhung the road one day when a group of elves and Elothians came walking by him.  Their slender build and graceful movements enthralled him and he found himself gawking at them.  They noticed his observations and tittered at him.  There were a number of them in robes and one carried a menagerie of weapons in harnesses and sheaths.

The weapon bearer struck a comic pose at Sonwhe and pulled out a well-used broadsword.  The sword bearer, a female elf with lovely hair of honey color growled at him.  Despite himself, Sonwhe chuckled and pointed his spear back at her, giving his own low growl.  There was an explosion of laughter from the assemblage and the sword wielder smiled at him as she lifted her sword in salute, then resheathed it.

The one in robes stepped forward and Sonwhe marveled at her yellow hair, bright as the sun, and her eyes of crystal purity.  She gave a short curtsy and smiled at him.  "I am Marelwei," she said in a musical voice.  "Of the Moon Mage guild.  We are headed to the Crossing of Zoluren from the Imperial City.  Are traveling to the old city?"

Sonwhe smiled broadly at her and wished for a moment that she wasn't wearing such loose robes that hid all the features of her body.  "Yes," he said.  "Is it much farther?"

Marelwei shook her head.  "Only a few more days down the road.  Is there some place in particular that you are traveling to in the old city?"

Sonwhe nodded.  "There is said to be a guild of mages there.  The shaman of my tribe has given me a message to deliver there.  To a Skindancer there."

"Ahh," she said happily, her eyes widening in delight.  "Then you are looking for my very own guild.  And you would no doubt be looking for Chenoa D'shari'sendal, who represents the Skindancers on the Moon Mage High Council."  She smiled at him again and Sonwhe had an urgent desire to follow her to wherever it was she was going, be it to the moons themselves.

She stepped closer and looked at the snail shell he now wore on a thong curiously.  "May I?" she asked, gesturing at the shell.

Sonwhe nodded nervously, unable to tear his eyes away from her face.  "Yes," he blurted.  With some minor control of his jangling nerves he added, "Of course."

Another soft smile from her as she tenderly lifted the snail shell and examined it closely.  "A curious charm," she said at last.  "And I sense that it shall bring you luck in the future."  She gently let the shell rest back upon his chest and he felt the brush of her fingers through his jerkin.  He feared he might melt were she to touch him again.  "If you should happen upon another Elothian at the towers of the High Council by the name of Arris, please tell him hello for me?  I was hoping to see him on this journey, but he was away in northern Therengia, looking for more information on lost Frostramor that Ninrak Suwl gave his life searching for."  She gave a roll of her eyes, as if trying to chide this Arris from so far away.  "He is my cousin and I do like to keep in touch with my family."

Sonwhe nodded to her emphatically.  If only there were more ways to please her, he thought to himself, and felt a suddenly flush of warmth to his cheeks.

"Ah," Marelwei gasped as she inhaled suddenly.  Then she beamed at Sonwhe.  "It seems I can speed you along your journey.  Katamba and Xibar have moved into alignment on the far side of Elanthia and their mana reaches me much more strongly now.  A moment--"

With that she raised her arms to the heavens and began to chant.  Her mysterious, incomprehensible words sounded like a diva's song upon Sonwhe's ears and he hoped that the chant would never end.  But it did and with a gesture from her graceful hand a beam of purest crimson red flared into brilliance before him.  He gave a yelp and danced back a step from it.

"You call the tears of the moon!" he exclaimed, his eyes now diverted from her and fixed upon the brilliant moonbeam.

Marelwei giggled at him and gestured again with a sigh.  The moonbeam sank into the earth and disappeared from sight.  Sonwhe blinked in bewilderment.

"Annika, Saquina, would you help with harnessing mana, please?  I don't know if I can reach the city on my own from this distance."  The women she spoke to stepped forward and each rested a hand upon Marelwei's shoulder.  They bowed their heads and each breathed deeply, even as Marelwei did so.

With another gesture an eruption of sparks occurred before Sonwhe and coalesced into a shimmering portal of swirling crimson.  He gaped at the sight and felt his heart race in a thrill of excitement.  Never had he seen Harokee do anything even resembling this spectacle.

"Step through and you will be at the towers of the High Council, Sonwhe," Marelwei said.

Sonwhe looked at the portal and then at Marelwei, only slightly marveling at the fact that she had discerned his name without his ever speaking it.  In a moment of the greatest courage he had ever mustered, he darted towards her and kissed her lightly on the cheek.  She flushed and smiled broadly at him.

"If ever you should happen to be in the Illithi province, stop by the Great Tower of Shard.  I am doing research there.  At least until either the Ferdahl or Mistress Gwylyn toss me out.  Now hurry."

Sonwhe nodded quickly and stepped towards the portal.  He hesitated a moment and reached out his hand to touch the shimmering crimson.  As he did so his world exploded in the perfect redness.

He had progressed in his magical studies to the point where he could feel the flow and ebb of the mana that was shed by the moons high above him.  He stopped for a moment as he felt the alignment of Katamba and Xibar.  Reflexively he looked upwards at the skies to search for them.  Instead, all he found was the crescent of Yavash riding high in the sky.  He closed his eyes and concentrated on the missing moons.

For a moment he was lost in his quest for the moons, shedding their tears upon the world together like siblings.  Then he felt a presence near to him and he slowly raised his head and opened his eyes.

Kinwei blinked twice at the creature next to him and then let out a shout of terror.  A huge creature that looked to Sonwhe like a cross between a lizard and bat with ill-formed wings shrieked back at him.  That shriek was all that Sonwhe needed and broke into a run through the forest.  Behind him he heard the plodding crash of the monster chasing after him.

Kinwei tried to run faster but he already felt his gut exploding with pain as he pushed himself on faster.  He spied the camp of his tribe ahead and yelled at the top of his lungs.  There was an immediate flurry of activity as the hunters all sped for their spears and nets and then started to come bounding towards Kinwei and his monstrous pursuer.

Only to be stopped by Harokee as he stepped before them and gave them a sharp glance.  Kinwei stumbled and fell at the feet of his master, gasping for breath.  He tried to stammer out what he had seen but could not get the words to form around his ragged breath.  Finally he turned and pointed with his spear back into the woods.

Harokee merely nodded and placed a reassuring hand on Kinwei's shoulder.  Looking up the shaman gave out a screeching cry into the woods.  Kinwei looked at him with bestartlement, wondering what had possessed his teacher.  Harokee merely squeezed Kinwei's shoulder and gave the screeching call again.

This time something moved in the shadows of the trees and the creature came into sight.  The tribesmen gave a single cry and hefted their weapons.  Harokee stopped them with a gesture and they reluctantly fell back.  Harokee began to converse in the screeching tongue with the creature and the creature listened.  Finally it responded to Harokee in the same ear-grating speech. Harokee nodded and pointed towards the edge of the camp where his hut was located.  The creature cast about itself suspiciously, then melted back into the shadows.

"Come, " Harokee said, helping Kinwei to rise.  "We will have a guest tonight.  I hope you caught a lot of fish."

Kinwei could only gape at his master.

That night Kinwei and Harokee shared their meal with the creature.  Harokee pronounced the name for Kinwei twice but the shaman in training simply could not find a way to repeat the shrilling vocalization and he marveled at the concept of it being considered a name of any sort.  Kinwei resorted to the word that his tribe used to describe one that they considered strange.  From that moment on the creature was named, to Kinwei at least, "Oushan'wei'don".

Oushan'wei'don had an appetite to match his girth and Kinwei and Harokee found themselves sharing a single fish between themselves while Oushan'wei'don ate the other three.  After the meal Harokee explained to Kinwei that on the next morn they would all three travel together to the mountain of Sorrow's Reach to meet Oushan'wei'don's own master there.  Harokee did not explain the reasoning for this need to meet, but Kinwei accepted it all the same.  He had small choice in the matter.  And Kinwei explained that the race that Oushan'wei'don belonged to was known to most as the s'lai.  Most often a dangerous race but one that also practiced their own shamanistic arts.

They gathered their provisions in the morning and Harokee packed into his sacks many of the skins he used in rituals as well as rattles and herbs.  Kinwei at first feared that they would never be coming back to the tribe but Harokee reassured him that they would be and then gave one of the heavy sacks over to Kinwei to carry along with his own provisions.  Seeing Kinwei bow under the weight Oushan'wei'don gave a huffing chuckle and took one of the sacks from him, hefting it with ease.

"Oh, sure," Kinwei chided.  "Make fun of my puny little body, Oushan'wei'don."

Oushan'wei'don just gave his huffing laughter again and patted him on the head.  With that they headed out.

It was a week of traveling for the three of them.  Oushan'wei'don and Kinwei found themselves hunting together along the way.  Surprisingly, they worked well together, tracking and bringing down a deer, which Oushan'wei'don ate most of the first night.  Thankfully, Harokee and Kinwei were able to salvage enough meat from Oushan'wei'don's voracious appetite to last another day.

On the sixth day they came in sight of the mountain known as Sorrow's Reach and Kinwei stopped to take in the vast size of it.  "We are going to scale the mountain?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes," Harokee replied.  "And we are going to go up from the back side, to avoid the hunters who frequent the easier slope of the mountain.  We are near to the civilizations of Zoluren, in what are known as the Realms of Lanival the Dragon.  The s'lai are not particularly well liked by the people here."

"I noticed Oushan'wei'don smelled bad."  Kinwei grinned at their companion, pinched his nose and waved a hand at Oushan'wei'don while making a face at the young s'lai.  Oushan'wei'don mockingly gave Kinwei a light push as the young apprentice shaman laughed.

Harokee smiled to himself at the antics of the two, then began to lead the way up the mountain.
 
Most of the day was spent climbing painstakingly up the mountain, picking their way gingerly around earth slides and loose rocks and boulders.  Each secretly hoped that a rockslide would not occur as they worked their up, fearful of being buried in the rubble that would doubtlessly overwhelm them were the loose ground to give way.

As the day began to wane towards evening there was a rustle from the dense shrubbery about them and a s'lai of massive proportions and height stepped into view.  Standing over nine feet in height and possessing a body of thick muscle Kinwei could do nothing but gape in awe and horror as the s'lai opened its mouth and screamed at them.

Upon my return I discovered that I had missed Marelwei's visit to the Imperial City and was pondering the possibilities of going to River Crossing to meet up with her before she headed south to the far flung city that was home to my race's ruler, the Ferdahl.  It had been some years since I had visited the spires and crystal symmetry of Shard and felt a distant, whimsical longing for the spoke-wheeled city.  Unfortunately, I also knew of the tarnish that lay beneath the glitter of the city and had seen too much of it with my own eyes.  There was still a sour taste in my mouth at the thought of the city and was causing me to put off the idea of traveling to my home city.

I do my best musing while lying in the gardens of the Guildhouse with my hands clasped behind my head and eyes scanning the skies.  There is no such thing as "Stay Off the Grass" amongst a guild of sky gazers, for which I am glad, for the heady smell of the earthen loam and the cool tickle of grass blades always lightens my spirits, even as my vision bounces from moon to moon, constellation to constellation.

The day had not waned enough for the stars to be in the sky yet this day.  Still, Yavash was out and a few of the planets that were sisters to Elanthia.  I was playing a lazy game of "Connect the Dots" with the planets, a game that many a Moon Mage engages in when too lazy to put their minds to deep concentration, when I felt a shift in the mana near me.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a shaft of focused red moonlight rise out of the ground and hold steady on the garden grounds.  With a moment of concentration I identified the caster as none other than the cousin I had just missed by a few days.  Perhaps I would get a chance to see her without having to make another long journey.  I smiled to myself and waited.

After a few moments a shower of sparks erupted from the base of the moonbeam and the beam itself widened into a portal.  I began to count.  When I reached the number five, a Y'shai appeared out of nowhere near the portal with a shimmering moonblade in hand.  At the count of ten a human boy of maybe fifteen came through the moongate, looking like a frightened rabbit from having traversed the space between the ends of the gate in the count of a heartbeat.  He was the last person I had expected to see come through the gate, particularly considering the kind of people I know my cousin to run with.  Mostly other women of the magickal arts.  I could not recall her being in the company of human boys who looked like they had just been ripped from the far-flung wilds of Elanthia

Upon seeing the Y'shai in his enclosing body armor the boy nearly bolted like said rabbit.  Eyes that were already large with bewilderment got even larger with sudden fright.  The blush that stained his cheeks drained suddenly away to a pasty color.  The eyes first tracked to the flat eyes of the Y'shai, then moved downwards towards the shimmering moonblade in his hand.

I have always been jealous of the Y'shai and their ability to create moonblades from the light of multiple moons while most of us can only call upon a single moon at a time to form our favored weapons.  This Y'shai was showing off, in my opinion, by calling upon the black moonlight of Katamba and the blue-white light of Xibar.  Both moons were still below the horizon and it takes massive power to focus the diffuse light from such a distance.

Of course, if any of us can call upon massive amounts of power, it would be the Y'shai.  Their bodysuits are made of layers of leather and woven cambrinth.  Cambrinth, to those unenlightened to the ways of magery, is a holding receptacle for mana that allows us to store energy for "a rainy day" as it were.  The armored bodysuit of the Y'shai maintains the Y'shai so that they never need to sleep or eat and gives them a resource for power, no matter the position of the moons and planets.  The Y'shai are the warrior protectors of the guild and High Council and the fate of those who undertake the test of becoming Y'shai is too horrid to detail here.

"Who are you and what is your business here?" the Y'shai demanded in his flat voice.

"I--I--" the boy stammered.  I have seen guppy fish make the same movements with their mouths as they swim about lazily in ponds.

The Y'shai raised his blade ever so slightly.  The small movement was enough to capture the boy's attention, however, and he took a shuffling step backwards.  The spear that he held in his right hand lowered ever so slightly in response.  I feared the worst from this situation.  And, worse, my interest was piqued.

"Please answer my question," the Y'shai intoned.  "Should you fail to do so I will have no choice but to remove you from these grounds forcibly."

"Gethanen," I whispered from my spot on the grass.  "Do you really think a magickless boy poses a real threat to the guild?  Or is there too little to be done this day?"

"I am following prescribed procedures, Moon Mage Arris.  Do you know of this boy?"  The Y'shai did not turn to me when he spoke but kept his eyes on the boy, body casually ready to strike with all the force of a viper.

"No, I have never seen him before in my life.  Yet he comes through a gate created by my cousin.  I trust her completely.  She would not allow a possible threat to befall us through her hand."

"So what would you have me do, Moon Mage Arris?  Ignore his presence as he blunders about within the confines of the Guildhouse and its grounds?  I would be a poor Y'shai if I did so."

"Then I shall take him into custody myself," I said, pulling myself up into a sitting position.

"Do you accept responsibility for him while he is within the Guildhouse and its grounds?" demanded Gethanen.

"I do."

"And you are aware of the security requirements regarding guests of guild members and the penalties for any damage they may cause?"

I have lived the past fifty years of my life within the confines of the Guildhouse and knew the rules as well as the Y'shai themselves do.  I am nothing if not retentive about rules and laws regarding the guild.  Yet it was required of me to say yet once again what both the Y'shai and I knew.

"I am aware of the responsibilities, Gethanen, have no fear.  He shall cause no harm while under my care."

"Very well," the Y'shai said and the moonblade in his hand melted back into the air.  A moment later the Y'shai seemed to melt away into nothingness as well.

I gave a bemused smile to my new charge, who in turn lowered the point of his spear back towards the ground and laid protective fingers around a shell that rested on his chest.

"He held the tears of the moons," the boy said with awe in his voice.

I chuckled at the words and finally recognized the clothes that the boy wore.  The soft leathers and spear should have been clue enough for me.  I am sure that they were for Gethanen to believe the boy an immature barbarian hoping to wreck havoc with the magic-users.

I gave a wave of my hand and in its wake a ripple of color spread in the air before me and slowly dissipated away.  "Here everyone can call upon the tears of the moons, my friend.  Did your shaman send you here to learn to call upon the tears as well?"

The boy thought for a moment and then shook his head.  "No, my tribe's shaman sent me with a message for the one that Marelwei named Chenoa D'shari'sendal, a Skindancer."

I nodded.  "Yes, Master D'shari'sendal is a member of the High Council here and a very respected man.  I can take you to him.  But first I think we should at least know what to call each other.  My name is Arris Sethrampranick."  I held out my hand both to be shook and as a gesture that he could trust me.

The boy broke into a wide grin as he stepped forward and moved his spear from the right hand to the left.  He reached out and did not shake my hand, but grasped my forearm firmly.  Inwardly I sighed at the fact that I had overlooked a piece of culture and made a note to study up on the primitive tribes of the lands and especially those that yielded Skindancers to the guild.

"Sonwhe," the boy said.  "Marelwei sends you her greetings and is sorry that she did not get to see you."

"And where did you happen to see my cousin?" I asked, supressing my mild surprise.

"A few days from here, by her estimation.  She was with some other women who bore pointed ears."

I laughed at his description of elves and patted him on the shoulder.  "Elves, Sonwhe. People with pointed ears are elves.  I wonder what you would make of a s'kra mur."

The boy pondered for a moment then looked at me quizzically.  "Lizard men, correct?"

I nodded to him.  "Has your tribe met with them?"

He shook his head.  "No, but I met one on the road here.  I am ashamed that I ran from him instead of greeting him."  He frowned to himself and I suppressed another laugh.

"Don't worry about it.  S'kra Mur get that a lot and more than a few of them prefer to have people afraid of them.  Especially young humans."

"In my tribe I have already passed into manhood," Sonwhe said with blunt matter of factness.  Another mark against me as I made another reminder to myself to study the tribes.  Elothians outlive humans by a few centuries, making it hard for us to realize how quickly the human society expects its young to act as adults and take the responsibilities of the station of adulthood.

"My apologies on my ignorance," I amended.  "Come, I'll take you to Chenoa, and if he permits, we'll see if we can't find you some food and lodging."

Slowly Harokee and Oushan'wei'don loosened their grips on him and he sagged on the support of his spear, which he gripped tightly in his hands.

Oushan'wei'don patted Kinwei lightly on the back, concern in his eyes.  Then he moved forward slowly and, with his eyes cast low to the ground, began to give out his screeching speech in subdued tones.  The massive s'lai listened to Oushan'wei'don's words while never moving his eyes off of Kinwei and Harokee.  Harokee had placed a reassuring hand on Kinwei's shoulder while meeting the stare of the adult s'lai.

After a few moments the elder s'lai cut Oushan'wei'don's report short with a grunt and approached Harokee.  Standing before the shaman he dwarfed the human in its shadow and began a loud screeching conversation.  Harokee removed his hand from Kinwei and responded where necessary in the same loud screeching.

Oushan'wei'don moved back beside Kinwei as they waited out the conversation.  After a few moments the young s'lai became bored and poked Kinwei.  Kinwei, still filled with the ways of a boy despite his coming of age, poked the young s'lai back.  Oushan'wei'don cast his eyes away innocently and fluttered his vestigial wings slightly to distract Kinwei, then lunged in with another poke.  Kinwei, too slow for the fast s'lai, staggered back a step then raised his spear quickly in an attempt to distract Oushan'wei'don and dove in with his own poke.

From there the two degenerated into a battle of poking that became a mock wrestling match.  Behind them the screeching conversation cut off as the s'lai and Harokee both looked at the youths.  The massive s'lai gave a rumbling, huffing laugh and Harokee grinned.  Then the two elders sat upon the mountainside and continued their conversation like two fathers as they watched the youths at sport.
 
By the time the sun had wended towards evening Kinwei found himself a part of a new tribe.  The S'lai, horribly alien in appearance and speech (and smell) were also tribal much like the tribe that Kinwei and Harokee came from.  There was a chief amongst them, old and grizzled and massive like a boulder.  He ruled his tribe through a minimal amount of movement and speech.  The tribe could read the meaning of their leader in the slightest movement or grunt.  Kinwei wondered how many years it had taken for chief and tribe to learn each other so well.

"He's sick," Harokee whispered to him later, when he spied the boy once again staring enthralled at the chief.  "What looks like strength of body and character are merely an efficient way to conserve flagging energy.  He has not joined the hunt in many years and were any of the other s'lai to try and take his place as chieftain they might well succeed.  But one never knows just how crafty he is in his age.  See how he keeps his staff with him at all times?  Forget all the trinkets that he has hanging from it.  While sitting he could no doubt blow a hole through your midriff with a single swipe were you to get too close to him.

"And so that is another lesson to keep close to you in your thoughts.  No matter what someone, or some creature, looks like, always be ready for what you don't expect.  Were the chief to get to his feet I would have nothing to fear from him, nor would you as we could stay out of his range and strike with our spears as his strength quickly flags.  But come in close to him while he remains sitting as he does, you will die if your intent is anything other than benign."

Kinwei chewed his lower lip in speculation and nodded dimly to Harokee's words.  He heard them, and he would remember them.  Watching the chief as the words were spoken to him, though, helped to burn the lesson into his mind.

"What now?" Kinwei asked after a moment, trying to remain a center of  inconspicuous calm amongst the squall of activity that the s'lai had raised for their guests.

"We wait until we are addressed.  They have been awaiting our coming for some time now.  We will be feasted tonight and the s'lai shaman will perform a dance for us as he initiates his apprentice into the final step of becoming a shaman in his own right."

"Oushan'wei'don?" Kinwei asked.

Harokee nodded.  "Aye, Oushan'wei'don has been true to his master for many years now and his master is proud of him.  There is another tribe of s'lai in this area that are without a shaman and Oushan'wei'don will serve to them in their needs after tonight."

A s'lai passed two large leaves to them.  Each leaf was filled with meat, barely cooked and heavily seasoned in herbs that Kinwei had yet to learn.  It smelled good, however, and Kinwei mimicked Harokee by bowing to the s'lai from the waist.

"The cooked the meat is for our benefit.  They usually eat meat fresh, bloody and raw.  Still quite warm when eaten that way."

Kinwei didn't respond to that, but he did eat a strip of the meat and felt the watering of his mouth around the succulence of it.  "What is this?" he asked.

"Don't ask," was Harokee's only response.  "Just enjoy.  By the way, you will dance tonight as well after Oushan'wei'don has made his own dance."

"I will?" Kinwei asked incredulously.  Harokee had taught the young man many of the dances of the shaman, but Kinwei had never performed any of the dances for the tribe.

Harokee nodded.  "This was my first dance as well when I was your age.  To be honest, I've lost track of the seasons since that happened.  I came here in the same way for the same reason as you are here now, Kinwei.  Somehow the shaman of the s'lai of the time knew when to come for my master and myself.  So has this shaman.  Somehow they just know when the time is right."  He shrugged to finish this statement.  Kinwei wondered if he would ever be so accepting of events as his master was.

Much as the night of his choosing, there was a bonfire built in the middle of the tribal camp and the gathered s'lai took up a deep resonant chant about it.  Harokee had brought along much of the sacred and ceremonial dress that he used in his duties as a shaman and there was dress that fit Kinwei as well.  Much of it was new and fresh and Kinwei wondered when his master had found time to work on it and how he had kept it hidden from his pupil so well.

When the s'lai began their "singing" Kinwei thought he would go deaf.  The s'lai were nothing if not loud.  The reverberation of the screams made his eyes and head swim as it resounded around and through him.  Then he felt a crude mug being forced into his hand by Harokee and a command, distantly heard, to drink it all.

It was bitter, whatever it was, but Kinwei did as he was bid and finished the drink.  Even before the last drop had passed the back of his throat he could feel something different about himself.  The ceremonial paints that Harokee had marked him with seemed to throb with their own life upon his skin and the cool air that blew across the mountain and across his skin was electric with a current like nothing he had ever felt before.

Oushan'wei'don was dancing now to the throb of the drums and the heat from the fire washed across Kinwei and for a moment he feared that it was his blood that was on fire.  His body shook with a vibrancy like nothing he had ever felt before.  It was life and death both warring for him in an instant and he feared that the forces would tear him apart in their warring.  He gasped as he felt Harokee grasp his arms, holding him back even as he felt the urge to leap forth towards the fire, drawn to it like a moth desperate for the light and the burning.

Harokee's words were quick and lancing in Kinwei's ear as he felt his master's breath blowing across his face like a gale.  "In a moment you will be lost to the potion.  You will feel the need to dance and you must do so as you dance in the skins of the beasts.  They will come upon you and move through you.  Do not fight them.  Let yourself go to them and let them dance in your skin even as you dance in theirs."

And then Kinwei was free of his master's grasp and he burst into the circle of the s'lai, backlit by the dancing, burning flames.  The last of his self will melted away as he felt the first of the beasts descend upon him and dance through him.  Packrat, wolf, crocodile and boar.  More and more came upon him and passed through him as he danced, cavorted, grunted, pounced, sprang and growled before the s'lai.

Oushan'wei'don was there and then gone again as he continued his own dance.  Then he was there again.  With an explosion that seemed to rip his heart from his chest the night swallowed over Kinwei and he lost all sense of being and place.  Only the flicker and the cracking of the burning bonfire registered upon his senses.

Light trickled into Kinwei's sight with a burning sensation.  It was sunlight and he felt sickened by its touch upon him.  The meat that he had eaten the night before now writhed in his belly like maggots and he felt a desperate need to disgorge the contents of his stomach.

Then Harokee was there, lifting him up so that he no longer lay on his back.  The old shaman propped his apprentice up with a pile of furs before letting Kinwei lean back again.

"Feel better?" Harokee asked gently.  Kinwei nodded, though his facial muscles clenched and he placed a hand across his stomach.

"What happened?" Kinwei croaked.  He hadn't noticed until now how dry his throat felt and how hard it was speak.  He attempted to swallow and it hurt to do so.

"You reacted badly to the potion.  I fear I may have brewed it wrong.  Forgive me."  There was a chastened look to Harokee that Kinwei had never seen in the old shaman before and feared to see now.  It overly humanized him and somewhere deep inside Kinwei he felt a chipping at the monumental figure that he had painted of his master.

"I remember dancing..." Kinwei whispered.  "There was the ferret.  Sleek--"

Harokee allowed himself a brief smile.  "Aye, the ferret.  That is the animal spirit that took to you the most.  Just as the hawk did for me.  You will remember the ferret until your last day, I think.  All the animals came upon you and you danced through their skins even as they danced through yours.  But then you became overly wild.  I think a spirit came upon you without knowing what it was doing.  Or it was upset..."

Harokee frowned as he thought.  "It happens from time to time.  I have heard stories of it from other Skindancers.  The spirit comes into you and is confused and its confusion spreads to the Skindancer as well."  Harokee touched Kinwei's arm and there was an oddness to the touch.  Looking down, Kinwei saw bandages covering his right arm from wrist to elbow.

"You cut yourself pretty badly along the arm.  You passed out from the loss of blood.  That was when I was most afraid..."

"I'm sorry," Kinwei whispered, still lightheaded from the thoughts of what had happened to him and to seeing his arm completely bandaged.  It felt thick and hot under the bandages and he knew that there was a poultice beneath the bandages.  A poultice that would need to be changed soon.  Automatically, Kinwei's mind worked through the ingredients and steps that were needed for such a poultice.

"Don't be sorry, my boy.  You've nothing to be sorry for.  It was myself who was foolish.  I was overeager to see you achieve, and reckless in doing so."  Harokee drew Kinwei close to him and embraced him both gently and firmly.  "You have been everything I could hope for in an apprentice, Kinwei.  I wish I had had a son like you."

Something passed between them in that embrace and Kinwei clung to it for a moment, wrapping his arms loosely around Harokee in a hug that he had, until now, only reserved for his father.  Then they were moving apart from each other again and Harokee was lowering him back onto the furs and pressing a drinking gourd to Kinwei's lips.  There was a fragrant tea in the gourd and Kinwei sipped at it thankfully before slipping back into sleep again.

During their remaining days with the s'lai Harokee coached Kinwei through the rudiments of the s'lai speech.  Making the screeches grated upon Kinwei's throat, still sore from the smoke of the fire and the herbs of the potion, but as with all other lessons he did his best to learn them and remember them.

When the time came to go they were seen off by the s'lai shaman and Oushan'wei'don, who would not be journeying back with them.  The two youths had made a sad farewell earlier, Oushan'wei'don maintaining his persistent ability to make Kinwei laugh no matter how somber the situation.  And while Kinwei was sure that the s'lai was being gentle with him when they hugged good-bye, Kinwei worried for his ribs and his arm, which still thudded dully with pain from time to time.

Now Oushan'wei'don moved to Kinwei and clasped him on the good arm, giving a wide grin to the young apprentice shaman.  Kinwei returned the clasp and smiled at his strange friend.  Then Oushan'wei'don was pressing something into Kinwei's hand and the youth looked down at it.

In his hand was a small bag of mink fur, soft and silky to his touch.  He knew instantly what it was.  It was to be a fetish bag for him and the bag itself would eternally serve as a reminder of this time amongst the s'lai and of Oushan'wei'don himself.  Kinwei smiled and nodded slowly to his friend.  Digging in the pouch that he already wore he drew forth a set of bones that Harokee had helped him to make and engrave.  The bones were a means for Skindancers to seek answers in the future and the environment around them when the tears of the moons fell upon them.  Kinwei wasn't sure if they would ever work, whether he had the right magic to attune nature to the bones or not, but he could think of nothing better to give his friend.

Oushan'wei'don wrapped his fingers around the bones and nodded to Kinwei in return.  Then Harokee and the s'lai shaman were exchanging their good-byes and their small gifts to each other.  Kinwei was unsure what it was they exchanged.  It was something meant to be private between gift giver and receiver and he the youth would not intrude.

With a final wave they turned and headed down the mountain back towards their home in the forest and the tribe that they were bound to.

Harokee, I fear, is no longer with us and Kinwei is shaman in his stead for the tribe.  Sonwhe remains here at the guild and has been under the able tutelage of Master Chenoa D'shari'sendal.  The Goldcaps have been talking of recruiting Sonwhe into their service, he already seems able to make it across all the Realms in the blink of an eye.  His relationship with my cousin has sent him many times to Shard, Lanival's River Crossing and even as far north as Therenborough.  I fear that he may become my in-law before long.  But I don't think I shall mind...

As for his apprenticeship to Chenoa I can't help but wonder if Chenoa is preparing Sonwhe to take his place on the High Council someday.  It seems to be the way for Skindancers.

I have never met Kinwei himself, except through Sonwhe's words, but he is a vibrant person in my mind nonetheless.  However, something interesting always happens when I attemtp to scry out this Kinwei.  I can never get a firm fix on the man.  I know that he is out there, under the suns or the moons or the stars, but my scrying methods refuse to show him to me.  Ah well, perhaps someday I shall meet this intriguing personage face to face or learn what it is that protects him from my far gaze.

I hear Sonwhe calling for me now.  We are to go on a hunting trip again and it would seem that he wants to travel far this time around.  He has expressly forbid me to bring either quill or ink or parchment with me on this trip.  He says that if I wish to record anything, I will have to do so with verbal story or song.  To this I told him he had better have his drum handy.

Wish me well, dear reader, for I never know if a bear will eat me for breakfast...

--Arris Sethrampranick
    Journeyman Historian of the Moon Mage Guild