"By Blood" (Flash Friday offering)

"By Blood"

@2009 by Erika Napier

All rights reserved. 

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"By blood, this land is reborn."

His hands were quick and his blade a flash of silver in the tawny light of the spring moon. The hind trumpeted once before the its lifeblood dulled the blade’s shine. The priest made quick work of the animal, his voice rising and falling in chants of thanks. He calmly chewed on a piece of the liver, his winter-starved body relishing the coppery sweet taste. He savoured the tidbit, letting the hind’s very essence flow through his body. He would need its fleetness if he were to keep up this eve. With ritualistic precision, he removed the hind’s head and skin from its carcass.

"By blood, this land is reborn," he whispered, staring into the lifeless eyes, "We thank you, my brother, for your gift."

Slowly, he placed the head on his and draped the skin over his body. The blood of the hind mingled with the dye that streaked his skin. The slowly cooling heat from the hind seeped into him, driving the Druid on. Without conscious thought, though the rite had been planned since the Solstice, he ran through the trees. He could feel the blood of the hind streaming down him, combining with the scents of the night into a heady perfume.

There! Ahead! He could hear the restless sounds of hooves in the underbrush. Soon, he would run with the hinds as one of them. Breaking through into the clearing, he paused, throwing back his head and offering his own, masculine trumpet to the skies. Heads raised, the delicate creatures waited on the edge of flight as they stared at the new one in their midst. A single trumpet from the other male spurred them on faster and faster away from the odd creature that smelled of themselves and man.

"By blood, this land is reborn," he chanted, his breathing harsh in his lungs as he ran after them. Twisting and turning, the animals fled, the Druid pushing his body to a point beyond exhaustion. He was so close that he could reach out and touch them. A laugh was torn from his throat, the exaltation of the night’s rite reminding him of the joy that was life. His pale blue eyes, like the sky at midday, met the limpid dark eyes of the hind closest to him. For that instant, they were kin. Kin to kin, beast to beast, and the circle that was life, that was time, that was everything was complete.

Almost complete. The fire on the ridge reminded him of the rest of his duties for the night. She would be waiting to receive the man that had been chosen as the High King, the Stag. A final trumpet and he sprinted away from the pack of hinds, leaving them with drooping heads and heaving flanks as they caught their breath. Closer he ran, the fire seeming to shimmer in the cool night air. He could see the form of the woman chosen to bear the new year’s child. Soon, they would come together and the Sacred Marriage would propitiate the life of their clans and assure a decent harvest in their tiny encampment.

The woman let the linen shift slip form her shoulders as he stepped into the clearing, firelight making the patterns of blood and woad seem to move of their own accord over his skin. As she stepped towards him, he smiled a feral smile. By blood the lands would be reborn. His magic would keep them safe and feed the Tree while the others provided a distraction. Their lips met and he knew the rite would be a success. His fingers stroked her back, the blood of the hind marking her alabaster skin. By blood, the lands will be reborn.