The Darkest Place Part I: Descent

        The wise women tell of how the clan found Semāah’s Valley of Moonlight in the long shadow of towering Ratatantset, the Father Mountain, in the time of the Hetōté’s youth.
        Many, many bountiful seasons the clan has passed since, dwelling in the Valley of Moonlight. It is a good place.
        It was a good place.
        Last winter was long, desperately hungry, so, so cold. The spring thaw brought floods and mire, then the heat of summer brought raiders from over distant hills to kill our warriors, take our children as slaves.
        Now, autumn wanes, another winter fast approaches. 
        The Hetōté, grown bent and old during our long years in the Valley of Moonlight, sent his eldest to lead a hunting party so that we might fill our stores before the game digs in, before Èssa, who is the Sun, flees.
        The Hetōté’s eldest was the best of us – beautiful, wise, broad-shouldered – and he is dead now. They carried him back from the hunt with a stag’s antler in his belly. 
        Now time is growing short. If we stay here in the valley, this winter may well be our last.
        These thoughts and more churned in my mind while the sound of the wise women piling rocks at the cave entrance – walling me in – echoed throughout, and my torchlight made shadows dance along the walls.
        When the torch burns out, I will be alone in the darkness of the cave, entombed beneath towering Ratatantset.
        I am here seeking revelation, perhaps prophecy. I seek a new path for the clan, to a new home, because the favor of silver Semāah, who is the Moon, has fled the Valley of Moonlight, and the shadow of towering Ratatantset has become an oppression.
        I turn towards the Center of the Earth and begin to make my way down.
        I still hear the wise women building the wall, but the sound is growing faint. Their task is nearly complete. I also hear my own footsteps slapping on the wet stone, and the water dripping from the stalactites festooning the roof of the cave. 
        The air is cold, wet, and I can feel it clinging to my skin, dampening my hair. My torch, coated in reindeer fat, still burns. For how much longer, I cannot be sure. Before it goes out, I must find who I seek.
        It is known that all life was born from the Earth’s Living Stone. This is especially true of the clan.
        The wise women tell of how the Hetōté was birthed, full-grown, from a cave beneath shining Atantsa, the distant Mother Mountain, who’s face we see shining on the clearest days. 
        The wise women say the Hetōté emerged a fair-haired, fair-faced man. Shining Atantsa had given birth to a demigod ready to lead his people.
        And when he had led his people to the bounty of the Valley of Moonlight, he chose the most beautiful, the wisest, the best of the clan’s men and entombed him in this cave beneath towering Ratatantset, a sacrifice seeking the favor of the Mountains and the Living Stone.
        This wise one, this keeper and guardian of the clan’s soul, long buried under the Father Mountain, is whom I seek. He will be somewhere far below, in the true darkness of the deepest parts of the cave. I must find him before my torch burns out.

Part II Coming Soon…