On the Felixes of Lumaria

“There was no lie in Thrawn’s eyes,” Myrrha reiterated, not for the first time.

“And I, for one, wish we could stop doubting my son’s honor and get to the point! We have debated this long enough. We should cast that damnable thing back into the sea where it came from!” Nya rushed through her words.

They held council in the matriarch’s hut. Ordinarily, the voices heard would include only the matriarch, the tribe-mother, herself, and the firsts of the other hunting cadres. Today, however, they were also joined by Nya, whose opinion was deemed worthy of consideration due to recent events. This list, however, did not account for the occasional curious eyes Myrrha would spot peeking between the ridges of the bamboo walls, mostly belonging to kittens, whom she excused.

“We don’t understand its nature, true. But that does not mean it is evil!” Shiri, another first with a missing eye, countered. “You all have seen it: it reflects the goddess’s face. It must be a gift from her; to refuse it would be to invite our doom!”

“Go back to reason, Shiri,” Tara said, rolling her eyes. She was a head taller than the tallest among them and carried herself as such. “I do, however, agree that we should keep it. We’ve seen what it did to the boy; it could be useful. If it’s that good at cutting down Thrawn it could be—”

“Get my son’s name out of your mouth! You don’t get to say it, not after your brat nearly killed him!” Nya roared.

To which Tara slowly turned to meet her gaze and growled “If he died, then he never deserved to live!”

Nya puffed her tail with a vengeance and stood, everyone else joining her, claws out, fearing the worst. She was about to march up to Tara and draw blood if not for Myrrha getting between them just in time. Even so, Nya roared, “I am owed! Her spawn cut down mine!”

“Nya! Control yourself. There is no place for bloodshed within these walls!” the matriarch silenced the room. “You are owed nothing. The tribe mother tells me the boy still breathes. You insult your son’s strength by counting him among the dead!”

Myrrha took Nya by the shoulders and whispered in her ear, “Have faith. Thrawn is strong; he will make it. Don’t let him wake up to a dead mother.”

Nya huffed, her breath ragged. Slowly, she calmed herself—for her son, if not for her own sake—sheathing her claws and dropping her tail. Everyone stilled, taking a seat, but Nya’s eyes never left Tara. "It must be destroyed! For all our sakes!" she repeated, her fists clenched on her lap. "I can feel it in my bones."

“Maybe you should get tougher bones…” Tara joked, eliciting a purr of laughter from the group.

Nya only stared.

Silence followed as all eyes turned to the matriarch, who sighed deeply. "I understand the object may have its uses, but the truth is it has caused nothing but pain ever since it arrived. Maybe Nya is right; we should cast it back into the sea where it belongs." Her words seemed to resonate with the silent majority in the room, and even Tara appeared to defer to her proposal.

Myrrha, however, could not let that stand. “I disagree.”

Nya turned to her, hurt in her eyes. “Myrrha?”

"I don’t take this position lightly," she quickly added. "Just hear me: if a kitten found this weapon on the beach once by sheer chance, what is to stop it from happening again? Discarding it only postpones the issue. What we must do is find out more about it. Thrawn spoke of a gigantic canoe near the eastern bay, and others confirm it wasn’t there just days ago. This is new, real, and not going away, so I propose we seek it out and investigate. I, for one, am keen to find out where this thing came from."

“That bay is dangerously close to the Hiki tribe territory. The kittens shouldn’t even have been there. Besides, sending too many of our huntresses that far away could leave us open for a band attack,” Gyah, the oldest first in the group, pointed out, putting a dent in her plan.

“Dangerously close means it is still our territory. As for a possible raid, I don’t believe the males are likely to attack even if most of our huntresses leave. We just came out of a mating season; they shouldn’t be desperate enough to cause another. Our kittens should be safe.”

“It is still a risk; they can be unpredictable,” Shiri muttered.

“A risk I am willing to take. Danger is to be faced, not ignored. After all, are we prey or predator?”

That seemed to resonate with Tara and Shiri, who were already leaning toward keeping the weapon, as well as Gyah and Jinx, who had stayed mostly silent. Nya, however, remained unconvinced, her tail swishing restlessly behind her.

“And you would volunteer to lead such an expedition?” the matriarch asked, her pupils slit.

“I do.”

All turned to the matriarch. The elder’s face wrinkled, deep in thought for a long moment before finally turning to the tribe-mother. “Go fetch me the moon tea, girl. I need to consult the moon and stars.” And just like that, the tone in the room darkened.

The tribe-mother flinched at the request. “Matriarch, if I may—” but that was all she managed to get out before being slapped away by the very person she was trying to warn.

Poor tribe-mother, Myrrha sighed, but then again, she would outlive them all. This likely brought her little comfort, however, as the faces would change, but the beatings would remain. Still, Myrrha supposed there had to be some satisfaction in witnessing all your tormentors fade into naught but memory.

But that was not today. “Did I stutter, girl?” the matriarch reiterated.

“No, matriarch…” she stuttered, running off to fetch the poison.

The matriarch was a husk of who she once was, with wrinkles beyond count, not all due to age. To consult with the moon and stars, one had to come knocking on the heavens, and for that, the matriarch had to die, if only for a while. It was a difficult crossing, no matter how experienced she was, but it was the only way to consult the goddess. They needed answers.

Without a word, Shiri and Jinx moved to clear out a space in the middle, and a mat was laid out; paltry comforts compared to the horror the matriarch was about to endure.

While the others took charge of the preparations, Nya leaned close to her ear. “What were you thinking, Myrrha? We could have been rid of that damn thing by now!”

“Casting it into the sea is no solution, Nya. You know that. There could be a whole canoe out there filled with those things, for all we know!” Myrrha whispered back.

“Then let the canoe keep them! What is it to us?”

“It is everything to us! Think about it: if we let this be, other tribes could get their hands on it! Or worse, the bands.”

Maybe that convinced her, but probably not. Either way, the ritual had reached the stage where no talking was allowed. Both joined in the chants, and Nya faded into the background while Myrrha joined the other firsts beside the matriarch as she was laid down.

Myrrha took the matriarch by the hand just as the tribe-mother returned, carrying the dripping, broth-like poison in her cupped hands. They all hushed as she fed it to her.

At first, nothing happened. Then, the stopping sickness hit - a violent purging of life from her veins - and the matriarch spasmed and thrashed, convulsing on the ground, having to be pinned down lest she hurt herself. They all watched as she shook and gurgled until her heart stopped and she lay still. Silence.

They all glanced at each other, unsure. No matter how many times they endured this, it never got any easier. There was always a chance they would lose her. It could be due to many things; maybe the tribe-mother would be too slow to administer the medicine, or perhaps the matriarch herself would become too enamored with the heavens and choose not to join her ancestors in lighting up the sky. Both were known to happen.

“What are you waiting for? Wake her!” Gyah snapped.

“Not yet, she needs time...” the tribe-mother replied, flinching at her own words as her hands hovered over the matriarch. Then she began her work: forcing the antidote down the matriarch’s inert throat and starting chest compressions in a desperate attempt to bring her back to life.

For a while, she kept at it, again and again, seemingly to no avail. Myrrha tensed; she was getting worried.

“What’s taking so long?”

“Is she dead?”

“Why aren’t you pumping faster?”

“Be quiet!” the tribe-mother snapped with an intensity that likely surprised even herself. Whether she would soon regret that, however, remained to be seen.

Myrrha avoided prodding too much. She had a good relationship with the tribe-mother, or at least as good as one could have. This wasn’t out of kindness, but rather due to the radical notion that having your healer at least somewhat partial to you was always a good idea. Although, there was some pity involved, even if just a little. She saw no pleasure in abusing the weak.

Even so, as time passed and the tribe-mother labored, Myrrha was forced to concur with Gyah. What was taking so long? Was the matriarch gone? That would be horrid, not just because the matriarch was a friend, but even more so because she had not trained a successor since the last one died during training. The damage would be catastrophic; what chance did they have for survival if they could not communicate with the goddess? What if—

Then the matriarch awoke, gurgling something unpronounceable before spewing out the poison with a retch directed at the tribe-mother’s face. She looked frailer and paler than before. It was said that the heavens moved slower than the earth, which is why the matriarchs seemed so aged after every visit. Myrrha, however, was willing to bet the poison had something to do with it.

They gave the matriarch a moment to breathe, but not a long one, and were soon all upon her. “Matriarch, what news of the goddess?”

At first, the matriarch stared at nothing, but then Myrrha felt her eyes gliding toward her. “Matriarch?” Myrrha questioned.

“We sit atop a mountain just as much as we are buried under a valley. The wind is rising, and they set sail. Protect the blade,” the matriarch barely managed to utter before throwing up again. Her tail lay limp behind her, dangling like a loose vine—never a good sign.

Myrrha did not understand the message. A simple yes or no to the canoe question would have sufficed; instead, she got riddles and games. Even the terms the matriarch spoke of were largely alien to her, like "blade." Was that what the shiny stick was? A "blade"?

“Yes, yes, but what of the canoe? Should we go there?” Shiri beat her to the point, shaking the matriarch’s shoulder.

For a moment, it seemed like the matriarch would pass out. But then, just as Myrrha was about to sigh in disappointment, the older female reached for her, dragging her close before whispering in her ear, "Don’t fight the wind, great mother. Go to the ship." And with that, the matriarch drifted into sleep, murmuring incoherently while the bile-covered tribe-mother assisted her.

Myrrha wanted more but knew she would get none. The matriarch was beyond all reckoning now.

Great mother…

“Don’t do this, Myrrha…” Nya's voice came from right behind her.

It startled her, much to her own surprise, but she was quick to mask the fear. “Assemble the cadre. We leave at nightfall.”

Nya’s tail twitched, but she sighed and marched off to do as she was told.