Wings of Change

Leòdhas

This season my family travels to the Western Isles for the Gathering of the Clans. It takes nearly a tenday before we reach the shore. Many clans are there before us, and we camp near them on the headland, waiting for ships to take us across the sea. The Gathering is on the isle of Leòdhas, a full day over water. We wait two more days for room on a ship, and then are crowded in like fish in a net. No one is easy being crowded so close to strangers. It is worth it, though, once we reach the island.

We come ashore in a broad harbor on the eastern shore and set out along the road west to Dun Charlabhaigh, where the Gathering will be held. The Elders are slowing, exhausted by the journey. Their counsels may be more important than any other business that takes place here. This will be the largest Gathering in memory and the future of Alba rests on what happens here.

As we walk, I keep watch, as Elder Mam has taught me. I watch the way parents guide their children, to see which clans are good ones, and which to beware of. I watch the way that clansmen treat their Elders; I see which ones are strong and kind, and which are boastful and heedless. I watch the women, seeing the worry around the eyes of some when their men take notice of them, seeing the gentle touch of a crying child, seeing the heedless blows and kind caresses passed from man to wife to child. A wise woman judges her neighbours by their actions, Elder Mam says. And I seek to be a wise woman, guiding my clan, not just a seer who sits in the dark of the crannog foretelling the future.

I watch also the eyes of the Elders. You can tell a seer by the completeness of their vision. They see beyond the road they walk and the moors rising around them. They see the paths which others will choose, the choices—good or ill—they might make, and the potential outcomes of each. They see things the clansmen miss in the day-to-day struggle to feed and protect their families. And they see the Other Side.

They have an aura, the Elders, like the glow surrounding plants and rocks, like the beaten dirt of the road we tread. Their glow is not the green of growing things, though, or the silvery mist of the land. Their colors are mixed: some gold and blue; some green and silver; some are dark, like the moonlight reflected through midwinter waves. Elder Mam has said that the aura colors show what their strengths are, and their connections. I must learn to read them so that I can guess at their intentions when we are in council together, in years to come.

The afternoon is lengthening as we walk on, and I try to distract my little sisters with a song. They are repeating happily the words I chant when a screech splits the air. A peregrine drops from the air above, where a trio of raptors has been circling. It heads straight for me, and I flinch, but hold my ground while I push the littles behind me. The falcon banks in front of my face and I raise an arm to ward it off. Those razor-sharp talons could rend me into ribbons if the bird was ill-omened. But I am a seer, and won't disgrace Elder Mam, or my clan.

I stand firm.

I am shocked when the peregrine latches onto my upraised arm, talons wrapping around my forearm where it perches lightly, for all its weight. The talons grasp gently, without digging into my flesh.

The people crowding the road have fallen silent, stunned. A quick glance around shows me a look of wariness on most of the faces. Most, but not all; the children are delighted and amazed by the falcon's sudden appearance, while the Elders' eyes are meeting one another's, and nodding in acknowledgement.

The golden-brown peregrine perches on my forearm as if it were a hunting hawk trained to jesses. It is not tame, though, that I can see. I glance down to where the talons wrap around my arm and see a piece of red wool tied around one leg, with a metal disc hanging from it. My eyes jerk upwards. The falcon's sea blue eyes blink lazily, and my gaze is captured. I have never felt so strong a connection to an animal before. I shiver as his eyes delve deep inside me, searching for secrets.

"Is it you?" I whisper, thrilled. An omen indeed, for this raptor to find me at home on the crannog, and again, here, on Leòdhas. "Have you followed me here?" I ask. "Are you sent by the gods, or—"

With a harsh shriek the peregrine launches itself from my arm into the sky, beating swiftly toward the other falcons overhead. They dip and swirl through the air, and my heart swells in my chest, yearning to burst out and fly with them. I feel an arm encircle me from behind, drawing me back into my own skin. Elder Mam is behind me. The crush of being denied flight, having to turn my sore feet to the road once more, fills my eyes with tears.

But Elder Mam holds me tight to the ground.