#plejaden

The seven sisters sat in the sky the night Wolfmar's sister was born. A full moon accompanied them to illuminate the whole village beneath them.

His muda's screams wailed through the shadows, and no prayers and no magi could help her.

The men sat at the bonfire in front of the longhouse, staring into the flames and ignoring the screams.

If the magi couldn't help, no one could.

Wolfmar's fadder, the gray bearded high-man of the tribe, carved with jittery gesture on the piece of wood in his hand. Wodans rune and numbers - and Wolfmar wonders for a moment, why his father chose this sign. He would had tried to call to Fraia. He wasn't his fadder, though, but a boy of 12 winters, not yet allowed to hunt. So he was nothing.

The screams from the magi house stopped so abruptly, that the echo rung in their ears for some moment, until Wolfmar's father eventually gathered, that his woman had yielded.

The men around the fire threw nervously glances at each other. Silence was a bad sign. Always.

Wolfmar watched his fadder's hands cramping around the piece of wood. He let it fallen abruptly as he jumped up. Wolfmar followed his example, facing his fadder.

Not meeting his eyes, the high-man gestured into the shadows.

“Go to her. Look, what the magi has for us. Report.”

“Yes, tain.”

Wolfmar took a branch out of the fire to walk into the darkness to the maggis house. The stillness - the absolute stillness pressed on his ears like a cloth.

He didn't want to see, nor to hear what the magi has to say. His muda's screams have told him the worst already.

He was relieved as he was greeted by the magi at the door steps. She held a bundle of wool in her left arm, what moved solemnly. Wolfmar could hear some unfamiliar but curious noises. Good noises. He inhaled calm out and looked questioning. He dared not to ask. It was never good to question a magi or a seeing kind. It was sometimes the worst to know too much.

The magi placed the bundle into Wolfmar's arms.

“Careful, boy. She's alive. Tell the tain to take Silda as a milk woman.”

What made sense. Frowe Silda had just lost her little one, she must have still milk.

“I send someone to dig.”, Wolfmar heard his own voice, dull and emotionless. “The ground his hard.”

He turned back into the night, wandered back to the bonfire. His fadder knew by the look of his face.

They needed three men to dig a grave for his muda. Morning Clouds hid the sisters, as they were finished.

The next day the grave was snow covered.

2. The one sister

Aldaga was a sunshine.

Her whole, round face was beaming in joy, no matter the situation. Her eyes funnily narrowed, as if she had to focus so very hard to see, her giggle loud and silly, she was able to soften the hearts of every member of the tribe.

His fadder was thrilled to find out that she was blessed by fraia, she was the everyday joy and warmth, and oh! She was clever on her own terms.

Yes, Aldaga was in some tasks slow and dimwitted. The magi told him early one Aldaga was no frowe to hand for a man, nor to be with child herself. She was for the gods. So she became their tribe deity.

She was the one who got dressed in the fine's wool pieces, she was to wear shoes, filled with down feathers. Her shoulders were decked with fur, and her light hair every week fresh braided and salved.

Every time Wolfmar's eyes felt on his sister, his stomach tickled. He knew his duty. The first time he was allowed to hunt, he killed a deer, so young and still full of muda milk. The sweet flesh was Aldaga's treat. Aldaga in her special wisdom shared with the magi, and the magi shared with the tribe.

The frowen of the tribe cut and boiled, salted it in stribes and let it dry for the winter.

Together with the daily cereal oatmeal, mixed with mushrooms and herbs, it warmed the whole village for the winter.

Sometimes Aldaga staid with the magi for some days, hiding in the house. Singing and drinking magi's frowe tea. Sometimes they wandered in the forest, eating rare mushrooms and collect healing roots.

“We spoke to the Reineke, Wolfmar.”, Aldaga told him after such times. “Can you guess what he told me!?”

He never guessed right. Aldaga never told. Sometimes she whispered nonsense in his ear, silly sing sang of laughing trees and singing flowers. No member of the tribe would spoil their time with such nonsense, but when Aldaga told them, they listened. Especially when it was a cold winter night, with howling wind and frozen roofs.

The winter were the hardest. The older Wolfmar became, the longer staid the cold. So it felt, at least for Wolfmar. Sometimes, when the Blizzard catched the longhouses, the frost crashed a roof, and the ice-cold wind blew out the fire places inside the houses, Wolfmar wished the time was close. Nevertheless, it wasn't his call. The tain and the magi will know.

3. The seven sisters in half moon

The magi called for him a night before the longest one.

One night. Only one night to understand it was the last.

"Aldaga is in her age, too soon she will get visited by the moon. She had to leave before that.”, the magi explained to him. He didn't understand.

She sat him down, giving him the instruction for the ceremony he had to master.

He wasn't asked to do so. He was ordered.

Like his fadder, the tain, had ordered him to the magi at Aldaga birth night.

“You brought her out of the night into the tribe. You will bring her back where she belongs.”

He had to do as the tain tell him.

The magi was kind, holding his hands and caressing along his palm, as she explained to him what to do.

She hugged him afterwards, handed him the knife and told him to send Aldaga to her tomorrow.

To Wolfmar's surprise, he was allowed to stay and to watch the cleansing.

He didn't know what to do with his eyes, while Aldaga slipped out of her clothes.

Her plump body, well-fed and sunny, got a rub with fresh snow and warmed up salve, before the magi dressed her up in a new gown. It was too light for the last winter days, fine sheep wool and goatskin. The trim of her neckline was embroided, reminding Wolfmar of a hand-fast gown.

He watched fascinated the flying fingers of the magi, combing Aldagas hair until it shined like copper. He could not gather how fast the magi braided the now shining hair in small, evenly braids, who got creamed with a sweetly smelling salve. At last, the magi decorated Aldagas thick fingers with bronze rings.

The result was breathtaking.

Aldaga twirled in the shine of the fire, laughing excites.

“Am I fair, Wolfmar? Am I a bride?”, she laughed excited and danced silly.

And she was.

Her light hair braided and knotted into a crown, the dress of a tribe princess, she was ready to hand fast with the gods.

“Fraia will welcome her sister.”, the magi hummed. Wolfmar agreed with a full, but heavy heart.

“Don't wait too long.”, she spoke firmer and gave Wolfmar a knowing glance.

Wolfmar's throat was tight, so he just nodded and rose.

Holding a hand up, he waited, until Aldaga took it of her own.

It was important that she came willingly.

Aldaga, excited and smiling - beamingly smiling, always smiling - followed keen.

The cave wasn't this far. Half an hour through the night.

However, the entrance was small by purpose.

One has to get on his knees to enter the holly. Knowing, that this place was the front hall to the gods, Aldaga and Wolfmar crawled solemn inside.

He heard his sister chuckle.

“Look! More light!”

She was right. A light hole, far up in the ceiling, send the milken light of the half moon on the way. It illuminated the small and narrow way to the well, what were their destination.

Wolfmar found himself shivering, even that the surrounding walls were embracing him kindly. He could feel the handle of the knife pocking in his side.

Aldaga stopped in front of him so abruptly, he nearly pushed her forward. They had arrived the well.

He was grateful not to see her face now, while Aldaga sat laborious up, her legs hanging over the rim of the well.

“What is down there?”, she asked so innocently, Wolfmar thought a moment to run.

With her, to the next post. There was one, half a day, filled with strangers in shiny metal and rasp voices.

A second later, he dismissed his idea. That was a stupid thought! Was living under the Stranger as slaves better than to live under the will of the gods? How silly!

He crawled closer, resting his chin on his sister's shoulder.

“This is the way home.”, he whispered. The strong scent of the hair salve bite in his nose.

“Your real home.”

“Is muda there?”, Aldaga whispered, her voice suddenly small.

Wolfmar was able to see half her face, wide eyes and unsureness in her expression.

“Yes. You go and walk with her and fraia. And next spring, you come back. Promise?”

Aldaga laughed out. Her face a sunny beam again.

“Of course, Wolfmar!”

This was the moment he used the knife.

He was quick like a hunter, ending his prey. The blade smoothed clean and deep. A swall of blood, like a water cascade, floated out of Aldaga's throat.

Her eyes became empty, and silently she toppled over the rim of the well.

It was low enough to hear the impact.

He didn't know how he got out of the cave. He found himself out of it, sitting beside his steaming puke.

Deeply inhaling, he looked up to the sisters. His teary eyes tricked him for a second and the seven sisters had become eight. And maybe that was not an illusion at all.

Eventually he made his way back to the village, crying alone in the dark, because he was not allowed to cry in front of the tribe.

Next year, they will come back, everybody, to visit Aldaga.

They will use the magi's path and break the bones and eat together.

Next year, they will share and be close to the gods, thanking them for the warmth.