"M´hali: The Lost Clan, Prologue" by Barbara J Wickham

Prologue

Listen well, young kit and hear my tale. A tale that is not only yours, but of every fennan who is, was, or is yet to be.

As it is in the beginning of all things, there was at first nothing, but there was the potential for something and as you know well little kit, the potential of nothing is Everything.

She came into being, as all things are born, in a violent bloom of agony and She fled out into the unmade darkness, for to escape one’s birth is the instinct of all life. As Her first torturous breath tore loose, the endless nothing was taken into Her being and all that would be waited in anticipation for Her first primal scream.

Do you feel it, young one? Do you feel the power of that moment even though time unremembered has passed? Yes, you do. For it is that moment when your very spirit was created and each new life carries that power of creation in its first wailing protest.

Imagine then, what it must have been like for those who came first. Those who were spawned from the tattered pieces of Her very own birth caul. Born into the burning light of a new universe, into the freezing air of that teeming void, these progeny of the creator were given the most precious gift. The gift of life.

They came into this life fighting for every breath and it was this fighting spirit that their creator was most pleased to see. She was the First Mother and to her offspring she would give no more. It was for these new struggling lives to take what they may for their own. First Mother was not heartless, nor was she cruel. She was merely what a mother must be to ensure the survival of Her heirs.

Think you of your own mother, kit? Is there love and warmth in her embrace? Is she ever the giver of comfort? Yes, and this is as it should be. Yet, what is her greatest sacrifice; her greatest joy? It is that she will eventually put you down on the bare earth, on your own four unsteady paws and allow you to go forth.

So, the first beings were expelled to the far beyond, flung from Her own breast into the cold reaches of the new universe. Where they landed was up to chance. Where they went from there was up to them. A new world awaited.

Some sought the cradling waters, somehow familiar in the slow, quiet depths. Some took refuge in the coolness of the dark earth, to rest against the beating of a heart more ancient then their own. Yet others fled to the heights of virgin mountains, yet untouched by the first snow. Still one family wandered, seeking the Song that would fill their yearning hearts with peace. This was the First Clan.

They roamed the angry land and many perished and were absorbed into the dormant earth. Few even noticed, for these were long days. A time when some withdrew into themselves, seeking solace in the emptiness inside. It is fortunate that you do not know of such wandering, young one. It can steal the very life from you when the land underpaw has no love for you. For the First Clan, this was not just a time of great sorrow, it was also a time of attainment.

Yes, it is spoken that the First Clan suffered greatly in their long wandering, yet also during this trial they gained a strength and knowledge unique from that of the clans of water, earth and air. Their minds and bodies adapted to the harsh environment, reshaping what was once shaped to perfection, hardening nebulous bodies against the constant onslaught of wind, rain and sun. They grew dense, wiry hair and large, clever eyes. Arms and legs lengthened with corded muscle. In the silence of the new world, their ears became large and mobile, able to detect the faintest whisper on the wind. They developed wide muzzles with sensitive whiskers and moist sinuses that could easily discern threats in the shadows. Teeth and claws grew in length and sharpness for the defense of that new life, so recently given to them. Penultimate to all of the physical changes, it was the refinement of their spirits which effected the most change. In this world where life was so indiscriminately taken, a fire was kindled in their minds and a bright spark of fierce courage came to be in their hearts, for they would not let Her most precious gift be taken lightly. The First Mother made them to fight and so they would-to the very end.

Finally a haven was discovered in a deep valley ringed by jagged cliffs. The forests were a new world that at first disturbed the wanderers, but it also promised shelter and a soothing barrier to the uncaring world outside. Quickly they became aware of wary eyes watching them trod down paths already hardened by the small paws of many who came before. It appeared that others already called the forest home.

Here was a place of old magic and new life. Her Song was in every shaft of sunlight and every twisting shadow in this green silence. The mischievous winds teased ancient voices from the leaves that caressed the ears of the First Clan. It urged them into the branches and gingerly they climbed to the greatest heights. Here they beheld an unequaled panorama of all that lay below and more importantly, above. They had found a place where they could gaze into their very own origins in the endless night skies. Though She had sent them from Herself, they could now return to Her with eyes focused upward.

Above all else that they gained in the forest was the Song. In the dense groves they learned to sing with all of the furred, feathered and scaled inhabitants of their new home. They merrily murmured with the running waters, hummed solemnly with the slow turn of the earth and howled plaintively with the winds. Every member of the clan learned to celebrate life with the Song and each had a special rhythm that created a harmony with the trees and lesser creatures. Soon all life in the forest danced to music that was not heard by the ears, but felt in the very core of the spirit. Yet, amongst the oneness, something was amiss.

The clan soon found that their bodies, which were once hail and hardy with newborn vitality, had steadily become weak and lethargic. It seemed to be a wasting sickness, yet no maladies were visible besides the deterioration of limb and vibrancy. No matter how much food was taken from the earth, a great hunger surfaced that would not be quieted. The elders in the clan sought wisdom in the treetops, from the First Mother’s stars. What was needed to slake this appetite? Why did not the abundance of fruit and flower nourish them? Why were they starving to death amongst such bounty?

Suddenly, one Song rose from the others, a Song which stirred the heart and heated the blood. It was a deep, resonant sound that spoke of the taking of sacred life, yet how could that be? Did not the taking of a life go against Her gift? No, kit. This was the Hunter’s Song and it finally brought true balance to the new world.

The spirit of the forest did not protest this thing. In fact, she welcomed it. For too long the myriad of beasts grew and grew, taking only what they needed, true. However, with so many prospering and them making many more of themselves every day, the forest would not be able to care for them all. Soon, even the verdant forest would be made barren. Thus, the Song changed and the fennan learned that to serve life, one must often take as well as give. Thus, the First Mother’s favored offspring finally became what She made them to be.

With all forest life connected in Song, the reverberation of this new clamor created despair among the lesser beasts, so recently befriended. A great cry was taken up; a discordance in the harmony of fellowship. However great the fennan respected all life, this call drowned out all other thoughts but the desperate need to survive.

Why? Why do you seek our flesh? Have you not enough to eat that you must steal our very lives to satiate your hunger?!

With slavering jaws and quickening blood the clan responded, not with words but with a roar to rival the first scream of the First Mother. All the beasts fled in terror! No more would the gentle creatures of the forest bide alongside the newcomers, for they had come with false faces that hid the true nature of their fangs. A deep trust had been broken and since that day, all creatures who flee from tooth and claw remember.

Do you think your ancestors sinful, young kit? Do you feel shame for their actions? No? Of course you don’t. For the blood of hunters runs in your veins as well. You know the special Song, felt by those who stalk and pounce. True, not all clan folk hear it as strongly. Some do not know the call of the blood, such as your brothers. They hear another Song because First Mother sings different music for them. Where you seek the stench and heat of flesh, the male beasts seek Her voice in the stars. How did this become so, you ask? Well and good you should ask, for it had much to do with how it went for those beasts who found their destiny in the forest, but were then doomed to leave its cradle. For it is in the final breaking of the First Clan that the fates of all were sealed.

It was during the long wandering that the seeds of discontent were sown and it was in the nurturing forest where the final disunity germinated, for even in the harmony of blood kin, a parting of minds is inevitable. As the fruit falls from the tree to seek more fertile ground, so does a new generation yearn for broader horizons.

Yes, it was those born in the forest who most sought to escape it. As the elders held vigil in the treetops, eyes cast in thoughtful contemplation to the star fields of First Mother’s home, youthful eyes strayed to the reaches beyond the sheltering boughs. Thus it was that a few slipped quietly away onto paths leading to unknown lands where the scent of new blood haunted the wind. No more would the scrawny forest prey suffice. The wild flesh of fast runners and high leapers called from the open lands. The blood called and the hearts of budding hunters answered.

Did those far-wanderers ever return to the forest, you ask? Well kit, they in fact did return, however there were no happy reunions; no embracing of once-lost sisters or brothers. Instead, the young hunters came home with foreign thoughts and perplexing mannerisms. Their Song had changed to such a degree that the elders at first mistook the home-comers as a new race altogether. These beasts, who had left as half-grown kits, now towered above the tallest elder in the forest. Wiry arms and legs now rippled with thick muscle and eyes flashed with a disturbing new intensity. They carried decorations upon their bodies that sparkled with bits of polished rock and bone, collected in their travels. Most shocking was their new and forceful nature; eyes cast about them as if to claim all they beheld of their previous home.

The wind shivered in the leaves as the forest spirits withdrew from this explosive new energy and the fennan elders felt the first twinge of unease towards their newly-returned kin. They were welcomed, but with guarded hearts. With breath held in expectation, one thought reigned amongst the forest-dwelling fennan; one scent dominated the currents on the wind. For the first time, they were afraid of their own blood.

As you can imagine, young one, it did not go well. The fennan who called the forest their first and only home did their best to bring the travelers back into the fold of the forest’s embrace, but restless spirits of foreign lands competed with the balanced harmony within the shaded groves.

With blood quickened by seasons of hunting prey under open skies, the young hunters acted as if life had little value, if any. Prey was taken for sport and left discarded in the dirt. Fruit and flower were trampled underpaw in brutal games and wounds were inflicted for minor arguments. The elders were confounded by this behavior, but their protests fell on deaf ears. What poison had infected this group of once-repsectful young fennan during their time in the unknown lands? Had they completely forgotten their stewardship to the land and all that dwelled there? Worst of all was that some of the younger forest fennan seemed to be attracted to the violent nature of the reckless hunters and it became clear that the elders needed to take drastic action.

Little did the elders know, kit, that their firm disapproval and calm overtures of peace would be met with such bitter disdain. How could they have possibly known that these magnificent and terrifying creatures, who were their very own sons and daughters, would look on their elders as no more than insects to be swept aside as a nuisance? Why did they behave as if they could have everything; as if they could wrest the very power of life and death from the hands of the First Mother herself?!

Alas, one rose up amongst the brutish young hunters. One who seemed to have the blackest heart, depthless as the night sky and as cold as the sunless deeps of the earth. She exclaimed that the only reason they had returned at all was because they had taken all the prey from the lands near the forest and were in need of more lands to hunt. Lands they wanted to claim as theirs alone.

As her followers stood disturbingly silent, she alone looked upon her elders as one starving would look upon prey. Even those fennan who followed her lead, seemed to do so with some fear in their hearts. She had tasted power and found its nectar sweet, its allure irresistable. Her appetites had grown beyond mere survival. She now knew the gluttonous swell of domination and she embraced it wholly.

She alone forced the paws of the elders and all who had before, dwelled peacefully in the forest, but so many would pay for her sin. Too many.

Hence, it was because of this savage female, self-proclaimed chieftess of her ragged band of young hunters, that the forest first tasted fennan blood. It was due to her maniacal ambitions that the elders were forced to use their superior numbers to expel those from the forest that they had once lovingly cradled as helpless infant kits. It was by her own uncontrolled cravings for power, that she lost everything and she and her followers were made to leave the forest. This time by force. This time forever.

Thus the First Clan was broken. Thus the Lost Clan came into being and found themselves homeless and wandering, as it had been for their ancestors in the dark times.

Well, young one, our story must end here. What occurred that dark day is not yours to know yet. Your story is just beginning and I would not have such evil taint your tender heart. In time, you will learn more of the Lost Clan and why these young hunters were ultmately banished from the forest forever and how one leader’s actions cursed all of those who followed. What is more important for you at this time is to embrace the deep respect for life that all fennan hold sacred. To take life without need darkens your spirit and there is nothing more abhorrent to the First Mother than such disdain for her most precious of gifts.

Remember, kit. Some acts cannot be undone; some crimes cannot be forgiven. Be ever mindful of how easily fear and hate can poison your heart and bring all you hold dear into ruin. Always, you have a choice and the right decisions are often the most difficult; the most painful.

This I know, all too well...