Rajol and Shiver
“Mother spirit, we call on you to guide us, your lost children. We have lost our way, and the forest falls victim to the strength of the city’s greed.”
Shardah, an ancient wood elf calls to the totem spirit of her tribe, The Elm Souls, with a sense of apprehension. The Mother Spirit hadn’t answered the call of any of her children in months. The other three druids looked on as they slapped their summoning drums.
The smoke took on the form of a stag and a voice whispered in the leaves of the trees, “My children…”
“…Children, children, I am not lost, but the loss of trees has weakened my voice. Times are dire. And the tree children have all fallen to shadows. The body of the forest is dying.”
Shardah stayed quiet to remain a strong heart to her tribe. Getza, the youngest druid, let her voice run free like a songbird. The others stopped their drumming. Sensing a moment of need, the old wood elf waved her hand, and the drumming pursued.
She spoke, “Mother spirit, is all lost?”
“Like a seedling, the spirit can be transplanted.”
The druids looked at each other in shock.
“Mother spirit, are you fleeing the forest?”
“I wish to provide my soul to fight the battle.”
“How?”
“Under the dark of the sleeping moon. Summon me again and provide a willing vessel. I will join you.”
Rajol was a fast runner. So fast, he could almost keep up with Shiver, his wolf, especially if they raced in the low foliage areas.
The two raced to a dying stag, brought to bear with an arrow, but Rajol was never as good at archery as he was with a few blades. And the Mother spirit said, “The kill must be made quick and with definitive purpose.”
Shiver could crush its throat in less than a second.
But that was if she got there first.
Rajol finished the stag quickly, smirking at Shiver. She lowered her head with annoyance. She knew the loser had to carry the spoils back.
The summoning was not easy. The four druids danced over an hour before the fire smoke collected. The rest of the Elm Souls stood on the riverbank, watching and praying.
Shardah thought, Where is Rajol?
The feast table stood bare. The important increment was missing, the heart of the kill.
“Mother spirit, come to our table. Come sit with your family.”
The smoke took the form of a stag.
The folk on the riverbank parted as Rajol led his pup across the river and into The Glade.
“We’re here! Sorry!”
He aided the wolf in carrying the body of the stag to the table. He folded his bloody arms across himself, in respect. The wolf sat in similar pride.
The leaves rattled in the wind but said nothing.
“Mother spirit, we invite you to come sit with us. Help us fight the city greed! I offer you a willing vessel.”
Shardah knelt down and raised her hands. Her old body could hold the soul of a totem spirit. It didn’t matter if her own soul could stay or not. All could be sacrificed to save the forest.
The smoke dissipated into the air and the leaves rattled in as strong a voice as ever, “I COME!”
And all was silent.
Sardah felt no change, but she enacted the rites of thanks for the respect of tradition. The drummers picked up their pace, their hearts full of hope.
After the ceremony, Rajol pulled a hunk of venison from the shank he cut from the stag. He smiled and petted his wolf lovingly.
“We’ll find a way, little sister.”
He offered the meat to the wolf and she partook of it appreciatively. He saw a few speckles of starlight reflected in her green eyes.
Funny, he thought to himself, I always thought of her eyes as blue, like ice.
Days later, Rajol found himself waking up somewhere other than where he fell asleep. An gnarled tree branch stood in a corner, staring at him and a note was tied in a button hole on his jacket.
Dear Child,
The other forest folk are as confused as you are, I’m sure. But they won’t expect to see us again for a few months. We’re on our way to adventure!
You won’t remember living the night as a wolf. Your eyes were as golden as the sunrise. Fear not, this will get easier, I promise.
Many bodies were willing to take my spirit, but your Shiver was, I felt, the best way to travel. But I need to move as a mortal, so I thought it was fair to borrow your body during the night. Don’t ask; you don’t want to know how your body becomes a beautiful and venerable lady’s.
Please take care of my Shillelagh, it’s my only material thing in this world. And it helps this old bird get around.
I hope you find it encouraging that you are helping the Mother Spirit in her mission to save the great forest. I will continue to leave you notes to communicate further business towards our quest. For now, use your skills as a hunter and tracker to find means to support yourself and keep yourself comfortable.
Warmest Regards,
Mother Spirit
P.S. I’ve taken to calling myself Shiver, after your she-wolf.
