Ice World

The feast was over. The fires were dying down. The people went back into their homes, closing the doors to be safe against the Wild Ones. The hunt had been good and they had meat to feed them for a while, until the next day. They would sleep and wake and nibble, but not open the doors until the sun came again. The homes were underground, dug into the ice, and connected with each other with doors. Going out in the dark was forbidden with good reason. Anyone who didn't come in before Closing was lost, never seen again. There were no remains found. If you wanted to scare yourself, you could huddle close to the door and listen. You would hear them snuffling, although you did not see them. Once she had heard a cry, like someone being taken, but no one was missing the next Day. It wasn't warm in the Burrow, not like sitting in the sun in mid-Day, but the fur kept them comfortable. They slept on piiles of skins and wrapped themselves in the fur of the Others. They ate the Other's meat to keep them alive. And they chewed on ice when they were thirsty. They talked about where they would go for the next hunt and remembered old hunts. They played games with bits of bone. When it was Day, they hunted the Others with sharpened pieces of their bones, and made ropes from their sinews for dragging them back to the Circle. Without the Others, there would be no life. The Others ate things that lived with them in the water, but the People never ate them. When the hunt was small, it was talked of, but the Eldest warned against it. If we are worthy and penitent, the hunt will be good again. We must make the music. The flutes were made of bone and the drums of skins stretched over bone. Every feast yielded one new drum-bone and the most worthy would receive it to make it their own. The only other way to get a drum was the death of a Drummer. Each Day began with the festival of death. Any who had died during the night would be laid out and mourned before the Hunt began. Sometimes there are no bodies to mourn, but the ritual is performed anyway. The Eldest leads the hunters on the path to the water. I have never been, of course, being underage by 20 days. It is not known yet whether I will be a hunter, or a drummer, or a birther, or a digger. In 20 days, 10 of us will be designated. I think I would be well-suited for digging, but there are fewer of us now, so less need for digging. Birthing is most needed, but that future does not call to me. Perhaps I will be a drumemr and one Day become the Eldest. When the hunters come back, all the drummers play the dragging song and we rush toward the weary hunters to take our turn pulling. This is how we become strong and helps determine our designation.