So Long Been Dreaming (35 page)

Frost Moon, sun-turning 28

I walked to the Mother Stone today to say farewell till our return in Awakening Moon. The seasons have turned and the dark time is upon us once again. In the shadows along the path specters of other races that once lived here too materialized, and watched me with solemn red eyes. Their voices whispered to me on the cool wind, but I couldn’t understand their alien speech. What happened to those born to this world? Our Benefactors don’t know. . . .

Along with my blood, I poured out to the Mother my hopes and fears for the future. I hope She heard and will bless us. We are all that is left of humanity now. Can we survive? Or will this land one day absorb us back into itself as she has others who have walked these hills? Such thoughts deepened the chill in my bones, and I hurried back to the warmth of my family’s compound. I want us all to live, and be happy.

The last harvest feast is tonight after the communal prayers. I’m resolved to set aside my dark mood and be happy. My pregnant daughter and others from across the lake are coming for the festivities. Oh, it will be good to see her. I mustn’t waste any more time, Sun Fire needs help with the baking.

Cold Moon, sun-turning 1

I am a little achy this morning – too much good food, dancing – and definitely too much uiskajac. What a wonderful party. I danced till I thought my feet would fall off. It was too cold for lovemaking under the stars, but the sweet pleasure under our warm blankets was just as good. I want to laze around in bed today, but the village will begin the packing for our move. And I have to say farewell to our departing guests. My daughter looks radiant – she is due in the Awakening Moon. What a good omen. I will miss her though. I wish I could be with her during this time. I hope she waits till I can come to her to have the child.

Sleek has disappeared again – just when I need her the most. . . .

Cold Moon, sun-turning 12

During the good weather, we were able to distract our charges with work and games played down on the beach in the evenings. Now that the blue snows are here, some of them have started whining about computer games and videos again. I talked to Tomcowan today about a theatre project. Maybe that will help keep them amused.

Cold Moon, sun-turning 14

As a compromise, Dra’hada is willing to send for some of the high tech equipment now in storage. If our new charges agree to study in our school, they will be allowed limited time on the equipment for entertainment pursuits. Twace and the others are dubious about the schooling part, but Dra’hada was firm with them. The Long Sleep Moons are a strain on everyone; I hope the play practices and Dra’hada’s machines will help it pass in tranquility.

Ice Moon, sun-turning 2

We are teaching those who wish to learn the discipline of “The Communion.” In the long nights when the snows are heavy on the land above, we journey underground, to the warm cave of the Mother. There we lie together on the floor of a large chamber, our limbs touching, and we slide into the sweet reverie that is the Deep Communion with Tallav’Wahir. We leave our bodies in the warm darkness and allow our spirits to swim upon the Great Starry River. We journey to other worlds and visit with friends light years away. None of our charges can travel so far, but for those who are willing to try, we have hope that someday they will master the technique well enough to join us.

Ice Moon, sun-turning 7

Tomcowan’s play was a success. It was written and performed by our charges. And I am so proud; my new daughter is such a good actress. She seemed to shine like a jewel when we offered her our praise. Our fosterlings told us the story of their lives in the lost city of Vancouver. Parts were funny, and some things were sad. Much of it I didn’t understand, but in spite of that, the performance was very moving. The elders will tell stories of our own history tonight. I hope our fosterlings will like them. There is so much for us to share and weave together if we are to become one people.

Ice Moon, sun-turning 15

In the aftermath of Tomcowan’s play, an air of desolation has settled over our charges. It is very disheartening. The long, gloomy days indoors have given the memories of their lost home an unexpected poignancy. More fights today.

Just now I found Jimtalbot staring moodily into the flames of our fire. I sat beside him and asked why he and the others were still grieving for such a horrible place.

He looked at me with his sorrowful blue eyes and said, “It wasn’t all bad there, Qwalshina. My wife and I lived comfortably in a nice house by the ocean. Along with the bad, there was a lot of good too. Art, music, fine literature, advances in science and medicine – we had a lot to be proud of. As hard as it was for people like Sleek and Twace back home I think they miss it as much as I do.”

“Yes, I’m sure they do, and I can’t understand that either.”

He shrugged. “Home is home, no matter how bad it is, and you can’t help caring when it’s gone – if it’s gone.”

If it’s gone? I didn’t want to get bogged down in that conversation again, so I began a new topic. “Caring? Why didn’t the people of your city care enough to protect suffering children who starved on your city streets? Why didn’t they care enough to honour the Earth Mother and not destroy her gifts to you? Can you honestly say that life here has been so terrible that you would wish to go back?”

He was silent for a long time, just staring into the flames. Finally he tossed another stick onto the fire and shook his head. “I don’t know, Qwalshina.”

“Don’t know?” I was confused and upset myself by then so I left him. Vancouver sounded like such a terrible place. How could they possibly miss it and want to return?

Ice Moon, sun-turning 19

The rumours about Earth have surfaced again, and this time I’m sure Dra’hada has heard them. Perhaps the play wasn’t such a good idea after all. Everyone is getting tired of the cold and the confinement. The books have been read and reread, lessons and amusements are boring, and food and drink grow stale. Tempers are short. I try to sleep as much as I can. For us, this time is a natural phenomenon to be endured. For our charges, it is a torment beyond belief. Our warm dark homes anger or depress them. The snow is too deep, not the right colour, too cold – the litany is endless. I’m going back to my bed.