Polaris.

"Da! We all shall pay for this."

"Quiet!"

"Why! There is an alternative if you choose."

"Ah yes, choices, yes. I have heard of these stories; if we travel up north that we will somehow reach a land- lush green, with plenty of water and where the skinwalkers roam. I will not risk my tribe for such a deluded fantasy story. This is my tribe- my responsibility, I will not walk them to their graves."

"Da, we cannot join the nomads, we are not one of them! We are hunters and gatherers and they are... are, well vagabonds," I wince, remembering their chieftain. Last summer, midnight caused a great deal of havoc, "Alkaris raided our grain store-house in search of vermin. Vermin!" Disgust avalanche through her.

Bread is an achieved taste, roasted rats were devoured here. She heaved.

His nerves, right after he had ripped the rat's head off; bloody teeth, and the blood-drenched beard, he'd smiled.

Deep breath.

He laughed as she gagged in front of everyone. Polaris had been sick for several suns and moons that rose and set. Hitherto the very sight of a vermin coiled her stomach.

"Who fills your head with such stories? Wherefore do you take there is water in the North and the skinwalkers will voluntarily share with us?" Da seethes. His face sports redden blotches. Polaris would have smiled in other circumstances. It was funny, a plucky man, and the clan leader, riled up by a simple word 'North'.

"I suspect in the North—"

"I do not care what you consider!" He roared. " All I know is, up north, are the Valleys of Milky Mists and the Mountain of Temeria- a peek so high piercing the sky, and where roam the skin-walkers!"

"We wouldn't find water there until we venture out to see." She spoke with composure, repeated reminders of her place in the clan and his in this decision—charred Polaris' ego.

"You say that as if we haven't tried it! The Elders forbid it and so do I." with a forceful gesture of his hand he affirms his repute and the irrevocable willingness to abide by his belief.

But I know more. The moon had shown her- lush green land, plenty  of games, and water. We would thrive there.

"Why would the Elders forbid it? There must be something they want to hide; The Elders are nothing but wizened, greedy bastards and —"

"No one lives to tell the tales! They eat us." he throws the words out to baffle me by caring.

If only he would appreciate the logic. If only...

"I am not scared of North and the skin-walkers. They could try, but I won't go down without a fight." Polaris showed her intent.

Khall could see his younger self in his daughter- stubborn, hot-blooded and reckless. He glared, sizing her up. Silly fool.

"And you think joining the nomads is better? Nomads- they seek as the seasons' change. Having few reserves of food, when nature is stingy, they go hungry! What would we do? We are hunters and gathers, we hunt and gather from one place; how would you face your clan- your clan, by whom you swear that joining the nomads is the only way to live, and when the nature is stingy again and we barely eke a living, it would be these fifty starving bellies who will revolt against you and curse you."

He doesn't understand. Polaris sighed.

"Enough girl! I hear the disgust in your voice; you do not think highly of your Da, you must believe I am unfit to be the chieftain." Khall moved to take a swig from the water satchel. Nothing. He knew to stay in these drylands meant death to all. "I care for my clan and I am making this decision for this clan for their better. It would do you good to bear this in mind!" Khall shook with anger as Polaris continued to defy and question him.

"As I care about this clan too, I was born here among these people, they are my people too. And soon I would be their chieftain, I care for them Da, if not more. I cannot bear their death that you will bring upon us. I believe up in the north—"

"Aye Polaris, water, bring me proof and I shall bend to your every command. But until then this matter rests in peace, am I clear lass?"

The door to the hut opened. Ma walked in, protectively wrapping her hands around the swollen belly.

"Look at them! How they want to strangle each other, would a one believe they are the same flesh and blood? "

Polaris huffed, scowled and turned away, soon out of the door. In the anger-blinding alacrity, she unhinged the rustic wattle fence, further quickening her pace to her thatched-roofed hut.

Anger simmers and simmers and simmers until it boils and spills.

North, it has to be!

-:-

There is no illumination...

and no movement.
It is almost midnight- the witching hours begin. In a hut mostly unembellished, one cot against a wall, kitchenette against another, and a tiny round table in the very center, where the scrying necessity and stones lay; always.
A bizarre

incongruity, there is no movement as if the world is frozen in time.

With a dry throat and jerky fingers, Polaris lit a candle. Tightening her spine, she looked out- the moon was high- ready and receiving.

They advised Scrying in the dark to a Sibyl as the Eye of Moon is open and receiving. But riding tides are rather turbulent at night. She had drawn the salt circle of sacrosanctity around the table and her, no living or dead entity could enter it. Thus, no violation of the stones and her purity during the trance.

She stood in front of the scrying bowl; it was a huge grey, a simple river bedrock carved in a basin with copper handles. Filled with clear water, calm- incongruous to her internal battle. A lit candle, placed on the edge of the bowl, reflected in the water. In the scrying bowl at the center laid quartz crystal for its grounding, amplifying and focusing properties. An anchor to her soul in the physical realm while she rode the tides.

Smudging, an ancient practice of energetically cleansing spaces and people. The resinous smoke burns up toxic energy, restoring people and placed them back to harmonious balance. Lighting the smudge stick, she drew it over the scrying bowl, rune stones and herself.

We all come from the Ancient one,

and to her, we shall return,

Strength of day,

Strength of night

Oh, my moon

Open your eye,

Give me strength

Beyond my sight.

Bending over so she could see her reflection. She gripped the edges; having a physical connection with the real-world prevents getting drowned or tossed in the tides, it acts as an anchor for the soul. She gazed at the crystal and found the Moons Eye already open and ready to receive her. Eyes soften, her face too relaxed. Breathing deeply from her stomach, she felt the connection form. The visions shifted fast but distorted until little ripples became harsh swirls and the tides pulled her in.

It was as if falling in a heavy current, river- flowing and sinking.

She sank, waiting for the visions to stabilize. Although the visions never stabilized, the tides pushed her around. It is called it the landless void where there were no visions, just darkness and the questions. The landless voids were more difficult to navigate. There is no shore or land for your soul to plant and anchor its existence. It only meant one thing; my intended questions had some grave consequences and__

My future was in flux.

She couldn't scream nor breathe; her heart plummeted. She regretted being greedy. Scrying for selfish reasons. A black hound with red eyes guarded the landless void, hounds were dangerous if provoked they could eat your soul. She could see his eyes shine in the dark like red rubies and nothing else. She could only hear his breathing like harsh raps.

"What does the little earthling want?" it spoke, taunt as if mouth full of teeth, making human words sound animalistic and gruff; more guttural.

"I want to know what the Moon has in store."

"For you or the clan?" it felt as if he was smiling sourly.

"I want to know about me."

"Ah... Moon wants you to have a great future, I see that." A barely contended smile laced her lips. At least it was not the impending death because of no water and my stalwart father. "But she can pull away from her goodwill any day." I slugged.

"To-to have this great future, must I challenge my... my kin and laws?" She hesitated.

"You must convince the Goddess of hope; that it is the fulcrum and the crux of life. Quicksand will swallow you because it means water on sand and when this happens, remember: Men's laws are inconsequential and far below that the workings and shapings of her laws."

The hounds love riddles. Tricky bastards.

"So should I take the laws of men," I again wavered. "... into my own hands?" She tasted the words as they came out - leaving a bitter aftertaste.

Did I want to challenge my father?

He was silent, and it bothered her deeply.

"Answer me."

With a deep breath, he spoke: "You already know your answer."

"No," I looked around for the red eyes; perhaps he had closed his eyes. "I don't."

"Well, then go asks the Goddess herself, what are you afraid of?" he sneered and hissed in her ears, she stumbled back. He had not liked her challenging his words. With his fury, the void swirled around me, taking me with them.

"You have not helped me ancient one!" her voice echoed for long in the void tunnel and turbulent tides soon greeted her, she could not breathe again water filled her mouth.

"Well, perhaps you asked wrong questions." His leer filled voice echoed back. "I admit the possibility of being wrong but if one is true to one's self, one cannot be wrong to others."

'What would you have me do?' her intended question, but the words died away before even gathering breath. She was drawing in the tides, unable to speak nor able to stand the pressure of it.

"Perhaps you have heard, perhaps not. A murky forgotten land and its piercing frigid air nibbling at your skin, winter so harsh it would freeze your soul. A place where souls may mend your ailing mind; a place where mountains hold their heads high as the men there, and if you are lucky enough, that's where you will find water there but for that, you must head—"

'... up north, to the Mountain of Temeria.' She thought. Dread rot in her heart, but a speck of anticipation bloomed.

"Yes, my sweet little earthling." He read my mind. His smile sounded coy, something he wasn't telling. Suspicious, she was but had no time to question the ancient one.

Akin to a stone shot from the sling, the tides tossed her soul back her body. She fell back in shock; she quickened her unwilling limbs to work; whirling the water in the bowl in a fashion to cut-off the Moon's realm from the living; anything could come out of it - if not carefully. Tilting the bowl to the side, water spilled out on the floor, my runes and the crystal slid out and reached the floor.

She filled the bowl with salt and submerged the runes and the crystal in the salt to purify them. It would take four new suns to purify them.

She could finally breathe; taking in huge gulps of air. Rattled by awareness she discovered it had now dawned, the sun had risen and reddened the sky. She had questions and there was only one place she could get answers.

Mountain of Temeria.