Celestial Roots

Chapter 14: The Stroïgil

The deans had to make a decision. The snow had completely melted. Around Séaroën, the séarach were covered with large deep green leaves veined with white. Their branches bent under the heavy mass of fats buds oozing with sap. The shoots had provided some hearty meals for the hungry children after their long days spent training.

The youngsters would now walk around with their jackets open, their hands exposed to the mild air, and some would remove their hats when the sun was shining too brightly. The children's bodies gained in height and muscle and their faces had matured. They no longer had the emaciated look of the end of the Hir.

The séalyar knew they could no longer afford to wait. Færn was not yet fully recovered but he could follow the group for most activities. One morning, the children saw Séabanh join them by the fire as they ate a porridge of buds, fresh herbs and mushrooms. She was accompanied by Maoïr and Roséan, who held, as usual, his spear in his wide and thick hands.

The dean had the children sitting around her. She had taken her time to talk to them about the importance of keeping their customs alive. She had made them understand that Lorgá's generosity would give them the strength, when the time came, to meet again at the end of the stroïgil and perpetuate their traditions.

In saying this, she had cast a brief look at Færn. The little boy had blushed, but he hasn't looked down. Taghna had laid her hand on his shoulder to make him feel her support. She thought that the séalyar would escape the question of the ceremony of passage to adulthood, but Séabanh added bluntly:

- After accepting Lorgá's donations, you will have to go alone and bring a catch. You will not be able to help each other, but the choice of your prey is up to you. You now know the strengths and weaknesses of the animals that inhabit our forests. You will have to come back before the séarach bloom.

Taghna took a quick look at the guardian trees in their village. She could see the buds ready to hatch. Time was precious, she understood why the séalyar had decided to finally act. Séabanh ended her words with a sentence full of meaning:

- Fail and Séaroën's fate will be all the more precarious...

Whispers of fear rose from the small assembly. How could the children imagine that they could suddenly be able to hunt? They had only one word in mind: durséar. It usually applied to the adults, when they were no longer able to assist with Séaroën's survival. The causes were numerous: old age, a weakened body or the impossibility to give birth. This meant they had become durséar and they accepted their new state. 

Children, too, weren't exempt from this fate. Should they fail during their stroïgil – that is, should they not come back with a prey – they also had to leave, voluntarily and alone. Although this occurrence was rather rare, it wasn't unheard of. The exiled souls, determined not to be a burden to the community, often left quietly at nightfall or decided never to return from a gathering session.

Like a tree that loses its leaves before the Hir to keep its strength, Séaroën had to separate from the most fragile elements in order not to endanger the entire villagers. Far from being a source of shame, becoming a durséar was a personal decision that no one talked about, thus the fear that emanated from it for the children. But it happened, as naturally as the seasons followed one another over the days.

Taghna suddenly realized that Dorséanan's acceptance into the séalyar was a clear sign that this would be the last season for old Dannaï. Again, no one had talked about it, but she was sure of what would happen. When the first snows returned, Dannaï would help seal the village houses and go rejoin Lorgá.

The girl felt her heart tighten.

- Tomorrow, we will begin the ceremony of transition to adulthood. We will leave as soon as possible. Don't get too tired today, added the dean.