(( This is being copied over from the old Grim site so that I can link it in my bio. Feel free to comment, but the story is long past. ))
Yichimet’s body is frozen. The twisting, spreading branches of his arms don’t writhe in the fire-blooming wind. His ghost head does not turn. His wolf eyes see only in one way. Silence is a new language of comfort.
* * *
“Earthmother, who dwells in every object, every being and every place: we summon You from the far places to us.
“Mother of the North, Who gives wings to the waters of the air and rolls out the snowstorm, covering the earth with silver carpet: temper us with toughness to withstand the biting blizzard.
“Mother of the East and of the red sun’s rising, brace us that we neither neglect our gifts nor lose in laziness the hopes of each day.
“Mother of the South Whose warm breath of strength dissolves our fears and meets our hatreds: teach us that they who are truly strong are also fearless.
“Mother of the West and of the sunset, bless us with knowledge of the freedom which follows the wise life.
“Mother of the earth beneath our feet, storer of unreckoned things: we would give thanks unending for Your great bounty.
“Spirits within, may we be aware of the goodness of the gift of life and be worthy of it.â€