Alma’s Rite

Her Rite had gone smoothly so far. As one of only five youths deemed by the shaman to be ready, she had been drugged and abandoned far into the winter wilderness, tasked solely with making it home alive. It was as much proof that they could pull their own weight in the village as it was proof to the totems that chose them that they were worthy. As testament to the tenacity and heartiness of her people, most did, and Alma was absolutely going to be one of them.

When she awoke, she had been left with nothing but her winter clothing, a pound of the pemmican she had made per the Shaman’s instructions, an empty water skin, and a small knife. Even feeling the after-effects of the drugs, her body moved almost autonomously as she checked her supplies and her surroundings. As she stuffed snow into her waterskin, the cold helping her to focus, she realised that there was no sign of how she had arrived, or from which direction. The only foot prints were hers as she had stood and taken stock of the situation. Not that it mattered, she knew she was roughly a week south of her village, barring any unexpected disasters. The terrain was rough heading up the valley, but even in the dead of winter it was rich.

World assessed, she tucked the stuffed skin under her clothing to thaw and with a harsh crow of delight, the young girl began her trial.

The solitude of her travels was a nice break from her usual life. Her people were very tightly knit, but she had an independent streak a mile wide – one of the gifts she had inherited from her mother – and would often strike out alone to explore the wilderness or play with the village animals. Her people were open and accepting of her wandering. After all, they always needed scouts and hunters. The shaman also had an eye on her, so perhaps he would take her as his student after the trial.

Her people were accepting in many ways. They had after all accepted her mother when she had found her way to them. There had been no jealousy when the foreign woman who had so easily accepted their traditions had courted and won the heart of the chief’s son. They had welcomed her daughter, and unlike some other groups, had no issues with her being a half breed. When her mother had died when she was just a babe, her people stepped in and raised her like any other of their children, because to them, that is who she was.

They were also very open about mating. As long as all parties consented, there were very few limits on what was deemed acceptable. Clothing was always optional. Gender and age were largely unimportant. Masturbation was no different than any other bodily function. While uncommon, it wasn’t unheard of for the village animals to play a role either. Alma hadn’t yet chosen a partner for her first time though she knew it would be soon. She wasn’t entirely inexperienced. She had seen it happen many times in her short life, and she had tasted several of the men and women in the village. She knew she was ready, she just hadn’t found the right partner yet.

A week into her journey and she had made good progress. She had located a good campsite and built up a decent shelter against a natural cave. It had a natural chimney effect, drawing the smoke from her small fire up and out, while a careful arrangement of branches and snow kept the chill out. Inside she had more than enough room for two or three people, and it was warm enough that she could use her clothes as a blanket on her bed of pine boughs. Outside, she even had three rabbits smoking, their skins scraped clean and curing. She had already eaten the first, roasted over her camp fire. Full, relaxed, and fantastically alone, her fingers drifted south to work out another need.

She had been frustratingly close to the edge when the crying started. If she’d been home, or even just with another of the youths being tested, she might have tried to ignore it and finish, but not on her own. Not when they were so close to her camp. She was quickly dressed and cautiously stalked towards the source, her own needs momentarily abandoned.

The piteous sound rose from a coyote, the animal desperately trying to escape the frozen river it had fallen into.