The heart of Winter
The whole tribe was gathered around the fire in the middle of the village. It was that time of the year again, The Heart of Winter they call it, the longest night and the shortest day of the year, the beginning of a new cycle.
The tribe of the White wolf had a traditional hunt over the Night. All the youths between 18 and 19 of age were to go hunting and prove themselves worthy to be called men of the White Wolf. If they could not succeed to bring home meat they would be called boys for another year. It could be a deer or a boar or the most wanted prize – a stag!
The three boys for this year's challenge were closest to the fire while the tribe's shaman was singing a prayer to the forest spirits, asking them for a successful hunt and protection from the Winter Spirit. When the song was done the first boy, Einar threw his bunch of herbs in the fire and everyone watched the smoke, that emerged. It went a bit to the left and up high. The tribe cheered, spirits promised to protect Einar during the night hunt.
Next was Sven and his smoke went straight up high. The tribe cheered again, excepting the last boy Rodmar to throw his herbs in the flames. He did, the smoke rose a bit, but then fell to the ground like a thick gloomy mist. The tribe fell silent. Spirits offered no protection for Rodmar.
"You will have to stay by the fire tonight, Rodmar. The Winter Spirit wants you and the Forest Spirits can't protect you." Said the shaman.
"But... I'm of age, I have to go hunting and..." Rodmar started protesting.
"You will, but next year."
Rodmar's father came by and placed his massive hand on his shoulder. "Let's go inside and await for the hunters to return." The boy could not argue with his father, so he wished the other two a successful hunt and followed inside.
Sitting on the long table, he could still hear the shaman's throat singing and his drum from outside. He would be playing all night, or until the hunters returned.
"Eat. Drink." His father said. "It happens, a year later doesn't make you any less."
Rodmar nodded and drunk some ale. Good ale. He ate some meat from the day's hunt. Then some more ale. And some more. Half the night passed and most of the tribe's men were either sleeping already or too drunk and noisy to notice Rodmar slipping out. If the Forest spirits didn't want to offer him any protection he was going to protect himself. He was not afraid of the Winter Spirit and was going to prove himself a man tonight.
The boy took his spear and bow and off he went. The moon was bright, and its light reflected from the snow, making it easy to see his way in the great frozen plains. He saw the tracks of his peers and decided to go in the other direction.
The snow was deep, the wind was cold but his clothes protected him from the frost and falling snow and he knew that once he was in the forest walking wouldn't be so exhausting. Rodmar made his way, slowly but surely and with confidence, he would become a man tonight.
It was a bit darker in the forest, but walking was easier for sure. The boy stopped and listened. His pray was here. Whether it was going to be a stag or a dear or a boar, he didn't know yet. He walked towards the stream to look for fresh tracks. It only took him a little time to spot the path left behind by a boar. By the size of it, he could estimate the animal to be large. The boar was a fearsome beast, but its meat was enough to feed the tribe for a week.
Rodmar prepared an arrow in his bow and quietly followed the trace. After some walking he spotted the beast, digging in the snow trying to get an acorn or other vegetation. The arrow flew true to its aim and hit the boar in the neck. However the thick skin penetrated only an inch and only angried it. Rodmar shot again, and the second arrow hit it in the chest. The boar charged the boy and didn't even slow down when yet another arrow penetrated its chest.
Rodmar pulled out his spear and got ready to meet the beast. The wood penetrated deep and a scream penetrated the night's silence. A moment later there was a second scream, a human one.
The boar had died, but one of its tusks had gone right through Rodmar's leg.
"It's just a scratch." He said as if to calm himself with his own voice. He pressed on the bleeding spot on the inner side, above his knee. The thick leather clothes were cut and he could feel his leg wet and painful. Luckily he had some rugs on him and managed to bandage it somewhat. Once done, he looked at the fallen boar. A worthy prize. The hunter looped some rope through the boar's legs and began dragging it back to the village. It wasn't far. It hadn't taken him much time to get here. He'd be home before sunrise, not as a boy but as a man.
Rodmar dragged the boar, careful to follow the path and his own foot prints back to where he had come from. It was easy for one to loose their way in so much snow and when everything was white. Especially when it snowed as it did now. The hunter stopped and looked around. He could barely see the forest behind him, the snow fall was that much. He kept going, of course he knew the way to his village.
He concentrated on how he would come back and present his hunt to the shaman. It was a large boar, getting heavier with every additional step Rodmar took. So heavy, he could even feel the scratch aching. Or was it real pain? It was too cold to feel, too cold to stop, he knew he needed to continue. Dragging the boar was draining his strength, the cold was draining his warmth. He could feel his leg freezing cold and wet, even his foot was wet.
Maybe just a short stop would be alright, just enough for Rodmar to catch his breath. He straightened up and looked around. Everything was white. Even the sky. White curtain was around him and it was falling straight down. No wind this time. Rodmar listened. He should be near the village now, he should hear the drums and the throat singing. Nothing. Nothing, just absolute white silence.
"Please Spirits of the Forest ... show me the way home." He whispered. They had promised him no protection, but he thought he saw something in the snow. A shadow, jumping around quickly with confidence. An animal. It must be one of the Forest Spirits as it wasn't afraid of him and stayed close, just so he could see there was something.
Rodmar gained new strength and hope that he would find his way home. He dragged the boar and followed the Spirit. He walked for what seemed hours. His leg was hurting really badly now, but he never gave up to follow the shadow, he never stopped, he never abandoned his prize, the proof he was a man.
Suddenly the snow stopped falling around Rodmar and he was able to see a bit further. He hoped to see the light from the fire or hear the drum, but he saw and heard nothing. Only a strange circle where it wasn't snowing. He could still see the shadow that led him and now it came closer. It was a large white wolf. Rodmar watched it near and suddenly it started changing.
The animal stood on its hind legs, bones en longed and changed and soon after it wasn't an animal any more, but a woman. Milky white skin and frosty white hair, she was wearing a light white gown. Even her eyes were white and sparkling like fresh snow in the sunlight.
"You must be exhausted, dear Rodmar." She spoke with a soft voice.
"How do you know my name?" he asked and struggled to stay up. He was exhausted and wanted to sit, lay, fall asleep even.
"I know everything about you and your tribe." She smiled and came even closer, then sat in the snow. "It's alright, come sit with me."
The hunter didn't have much choice, so he sat near the woman, still amazed by how she had shown up. "Who are you?"
"I'm the so called Winter Spirit." She smiled again and touched his hand. It was ice cold. "I need your help, Rodmar."
Rodmar gasped. The Winter Spirit was something the elders scared the children with, to make them stay home but not venture out in the woods. "Are you going to kill me?"
"No. I'm simply going to take your heart."
"Why?"
She touched his knee and the pain instantly eased. "There." She smiled again. "Many think that winter is the season of death, but it's not really. Sure, some die, but it's that time when you have to let go of what need to die, so it can make space for the new generation."
"What does all that have to do with my heart?"
"The sun. It dies every year. To have it reborn I need to give it a human heart. A good, strong human heart, to keep its heat for another year. I chose you, because you were the strongest of your tribe and your heart will shine upon the earth."
Rodmar nodded.
"Just relax," she pulled him to lay in her lap and placed her small cold hand over his eyes. "Close your eyes, it's like falling asleep..."
***
The next morning the sun rose brighter and warmer than before.
The whole tribe was gathered around the fire in the middle of the village. It was that time of the year again, The Heart of Winter they call it, the longest night and the shortest day of the year, the beginning of a new cycle.
The tribe of the White wolf had a traditional hunt over the Night. All the youths between 18 and 19 of age were to go hunting and prove themselves worthy to be called men of the White Wolf. If they could not succeed to bring home meat they would be called boys for another year. It could be a deer or a boar or the most wanted prize – a stag!
The three boys for this year's challenge were closest to the fire while the tribe's shaman was singing a prayer to the forest spirits, asking them for a successful hunt and protection from the Winter Spirit. When the song was done the first boy, Einar threw his bunch of herbs in the fire and everyone watched the smoke, that emerged. It went a bit to the left and up high. The tribe cheered, spirits promised to protect Einar during the night hunt.
Next was Sven and his smoke went straight up high. The tribe cheered again, excepting the last boy Rodmar to throw his herbs in the flames. He did, the smoke rose a bit, but then fell to the ground like a thick gloomy mist. The tribe fell silent. Spirits offered no protection for Rodmar.
"You will have to stay by the fire tonight, Rodmar. The Winter Spirit wants you and the Forest Spirits can't protect you." Said the shaman.
"But... I'm of age, I have to go hunting and..." Rodmar started protesting.
"You will, but next year."
Rodmar's father came by and placed his massive hand on his shoulder. "Let's go inside and await for the hunters to return." The boy could not argue with his father, so he wished the other two a successful hunt and followed inside.
Sitting on the long table, he could still hear the shaman's throat singing and his drum from outside. He would be playing all night, or until the hunters returned.
"Eat. Drink." His father said. "It happens, a year later doesn't make you any less."
Rodmar nodded and drunk some ale. Good ale. He ate some meat from the day's hunt. Then some more ale. And some more. Half the night passed and most of the tribe's men were either sleeping already or too drunk and noisy to notice Rodmar slipping out. If the Forest spirits didn't want to offer him any protection he was going to protect himself. He was not afraid of the Winter Spirit and was going to prove himself a man tonight.
The boy took his spear and bow and off he went. The moon was bright, and its light reflected from the snow, making it easy to see his way in the great frozen plains. He saw the tracks of his peers and decided to go in the other direction.
The snow was deep, the wind was cold but his clothes protected him from the frost and falling snow and he knew that once he was in the forest walking wouldn't be so exhausting. Rodmar made his way, slowly but surely and with confidence, he would become a man tonight.
It was a bit darker in the forest, but walking was easier for sure. The boy stopped and listened. His pray was here. Whether it was going to be a stag or a dear or a boar, he didn't know yet. He walked towards the stream to look for fresh tracks. It only took him a little time to spot the path left behind by a boar. By the size of it, he could estimate the animal to be large. The boar was a fearsome beast, but its meat was enough to feed the tribe for a week.
Rodmar prepared an arrow in his bow and quietly followed the trace. After some walking he spotted the beast, digging in the snow trying to get an acorn or other vegetation. The arrow flew true to its aim and hit the boar in the neck. However the thick skin penetrated only an inch and only angried it. Rodmar shot again, and the second arrow hit it in the chest. The boar charged the boy and didn't even slow down when yet another arrow penetrated its chest.
Rodmar pulled out his spear and got ready to meet the beast. The wood penetrated deep and a scream penetrated the night's silence. A moment later there was a second scream, a human one.
The boar had died, but one of its tusks had gone right through Rodmar's leg.
"It's just a scratch." He said as if to calm himself with his own voice. He pressed on the bleeding spot on the inner side, above his knee. The thick leather clothes were cut and he could feel his leg wet and painful. Luckily he had some rugs on him and managed to bandage it somewhat. Once done, he looked at the fallen boar. A worthy prize. The hunter looped some rope through the boar's legs and began dragging it back to the village. It wasn't far. It hadn't taken him much time to get here. He'd be home before sunrise, not as a boy but as a man.
Rodmar dragged the boar, careful to follow the path and his own foot prints back to where he had come from. It was easy for one to loose their way in so much snow and when everything was white. Especially when it snowed as it did now. The hunter stopped and looked around. He could barely see the forest behind him, the snow fall was that much. He kept going, of course he knew the way to his village.
He concentrated on how he would come back and present his hunt to the shaman. It was a large boar, getting heavier with every additional step Rodmar took. So heavy, he could even feel the scratch aching. Or was it real pain? It was too cold to feel, too cold to stop, he knew he needed to continue. Dragging the boar was draining his strength, the cold was draining his warmth. He could feel his leg freezing cold and wet, even his foot was wet.
Maybe just a short stop would be alright, just enough for Rodmar to catch his breath. He straightened up and looked around. Everything was white. Even the sky. White curtain was around him and it was falling straight down. No wind this time. Rodmar listened. He should be near the village now, he should hear the drums and the throat singing. Nothing. Nothing, just absolute white silence.
"Please Spirits of the Forest ... show me the way home." He whispered. They had promised him no protection, but he thought he saw something in the snow. A shadow, jumping around quickly with confidence. An animal. It must be one of the Forest Spirits as it wasn't afraid of him and stayed close, just so he could see there was something.
Rodmar gained new strength and hope that he would find his way home. He dragged the boar and followed the Spirit. He walked for what seemed hours. His leg was hurting really badly now, but he never gave up to follow the shadow, he never stopped, he never abandoned his prize, the proof he was a man.
Suddenly the snow stopped falling around Rodmar and he was able to see a bit further. He hoped to see the light from the fire or hear the drum, but he saw and heard nothing. Only a strange circle where it wasn't snowing. He could still see the shadow that led him and now it came closer. It was a large white wolf. Rodmar watched it near and suddenly it started changing.
The animal stood on its hind legs, bones en longed and changed and soon after it wasn't an animal any more, but a woman. Milky white skin and frosty white hair, she was wearing a light white gown. Even her eyes were white and sparkling like fresh snow in the sunlight.
"You must be exhausted, dear Rodmar." She spoke with a soft voice.
"How do you know my name?" he asked and struggled to stay up. He was exhausted and wanted to sit, lay, fall asleep even.
"I know everything about you and your tribe." She smiled and came even closer, then sat in the snow. "It's alright, come sit with me."
The hunter didn't have much choice, so he sat near the woman, still amazed by how she had shown up. "Who are you?"
"I'm the so called Winter Spirit." She smiled again and touched his hand. It was ice cold. "I need your help, Rodmar."
Rodmar gasped. The Winter Spirit was something the elders scared the children with, to make them stay home but not venture out in the woods. "Are you going to kill me?"
"No. I'm simply going to take your heart."
"Why?"
She touched his knee and the pain instantly eased. "There." She smiled again. "Many think that winter is the season of death, but it's not really. Sure, some die, but it's that time when you have to let go of what need to die, so it can make space for the new generation."
"What does all that have to do with my heart?"
"The sun. It dies every year. To have it reborn I need to give it a human heart. A good, strong human heart, to keep its heat for another year. I chose you, because you were the strongest of your tribe and your heart will shine upon the earth."
Rodmar nodded.
"Just relax," she pulled him to lay in her lap and placed her small cold hand over his eyes. "Close your eyes, it's like falling asleep..."
***
The next morning the sun rose brighter and warmer than before.