Name Seeker: The Grave of Crowns

Chapter 3: The Naming

As the sun's journey ended, a bellow rang out across the valley of the fire pools. Grazing caribou lifted their heads, those basking in the warm pools swam to the banks and climbed out, colts and yearlings rolling in the short, thick grasses got to their hooves, shook themselves off, and all trotted to the source of the bellowing.

Upon a risen ledge of the red stone wall stood Fierce Crown Charging, the King of the Lowland herd. Beside him stood his queen, Swift River Running, and his brother and lieutenant, High Wings Leaping. Swift Wings swallowed hard as she joined her brother at his side among the gathered caribou some lengths back in the crowd.

He leaned against her comfortingly as Little Birds Dancing trotted off to meet Sharp Eyes Seeking - for ceremonial gatherings, it was appropriate for all herd members to be within their sects.

Calves and yearlings gathered with their dams, healers and their apprentices drew close, and Outlier wardens, such as Swift Wings's brother, gathered together.

Since Swift Wings had not yet been given her third name, she should have been with the group of two year olds clustering excitedly at the front of the crowd, just behind the Elders.

But with Broad Wings Flashing's misgivings about the possibility of her getting a third name at all, and no other family to speak of for her to stand with, Broad Wings had gestured with a jerk of his head for her to stick with him - and so she had.

The rest of the herd gathered in rows ranking tiers of importance, front to back - outliers of the four shifts, dawn, day, dusk, and night, formed up behind the Elders and the two year olds. Behind them stood the yearlings with their dams. To the side of them were the medicine healers, and behind them...Swift Wings had passed Little Birds Dancing's mother on her way to meet her brother.

Those of the herd that merely grazed were protected equally in name, but not in truth, and Little Bird's mother was past her prime.

The back of the herd was for the weaker, the slower, the lazy, or in the case of Little Bird's mother, those caribou that brought failed calves and were unfit for breeding with. Little Bird had been the only healthy calf his mother had ever birthed that had survived, but because as a lesser dam she'd been pushed to the edge of the calving grounds were grass was thin and stones were plenty, he'd cracked his shoulder in the birthing drop.

He had recovered only because Sharp Eyes Seeking had insisted on taking personal care of him, demanding she needed the extra hooves - and she had. If not for the kindly Elder healer, Little Birds would have likely died - and even if he'd lived, he would have been shunned to the back of the herd, to be at the greatest risk for wolves.

"It has been two winters since our Great Journey last brought us here through the mountain pass," Fierce Crown Charging announced. His voice rang out and silenced all lingering whispers of gossip. "As it comes to pass every of these two winters, the Elders and I have been in great discussion, and the Great Elk has shared with us his bounty of Third Names."

Swift Wings tensed. She wished with all she had to stand up there with the other two-winter colts. She even looked up at her brother, Broad Wings, but he shook his head slightly. Swift Wings huffed quietly and shuffled her hooves impatiently in the snow.

"The first two-winter to be given their third name," the King began, and lifted his great head. The gathered caribou became even more still, if possible. "Bright Legs. Step forward."

A slight filly with a dark brown pelt, white neck, and slender legs that were white from her knees down, took a shakey step forward.

Then she raised her head, took a breath, and strode to the front of the crowd, tilting her head back to gaze up at the King. Waiting. He looked back down at her, then took a breath.

"The Great Elk has seen your diligence as you have trained in patrolling our herd with the outlier wardens, and the Elders assure me you have learned well of our tales, that you may pass our wisdom and legends on to what calves you may have. For your third name, you shall be called Bright Legs Dancing. Let all who deny this third name speak now, or be forever silent!"

The King gazed out at the gathered herd, his narrowed dark eyes daring anyone to be so bold.

Swift Wings swallowed. She knew one such caribou that not long ago could have dared be so foolish. Little Birds Dancing was very proud of his name, despite his leg, and had worked hard to earn a third name such as Dancing - for it to be forever declared that he was agile of mind and body despite his leg injury was something he was fiercely proud of.

For it to be awarded to a young filly probably just good at running fast was something he would doubtless find insulting.

Swift Wings put it out of her mind, trying to focus on the rest of the third namings. But every time she latched back onto the ceremonial phrase, repeated over and over with seldom change except for the occasional apprentice being made full healer, thoughts of the white owl she'd seen earlier pulled her mind away. There had been no chance to speak to Sharp Eyes Seeking about it.

Before she knew it, the last two year old was being called forward, and named.

Swift Wings tensed as the colt walked over to stand with the other newly named. If she was going to have her third name, this was it.

The King lifted his head and gazed out across the herd. Was he looking for her? Maybe he was surprised she hadn't been gathered up front after all. Maybe her uncle had put in a good word, though she barely knew him...

"Swift Wings."

Her heart nearly stopped.

It's me, she thought panickedly. He's calling me!

"Where does the two-year, Swift Wings, stand?" The King called out to the herd.

"What are you doing?!" Broad Wings Flashing hissed at his younger sister, whirling to nudge her forward with his snout. "Get up there!" He was beaming with pride, but Swift Wings was lightheaded with disbelief. Was this really happening?

Somehow, she stumbled to the front of the herd, and stood trembling before the King.

She stared. This was the closest she'd ever been to her herd's King before.

He gazed down his long, broad snout at her, nostrils flaring.

"Swift Wings," he began, "daughter of a Highlander." The filly flinched, and her whole body turned to ice.

Surely this could not end well.