THE CAHUAC CYCLE
By A. S. Warwick
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Copyright © 2010 by A. S. Warwick
Visit http://mistandshadows.com for more information.
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Being an account of Cahuac, mightiest of the ancestor-heroes of the Aracan. Long were his journeys and many were his deeds. These are but a few of them;
Cahuac and the Sun
The Bowl of Storms
Cahuac and the Bees
Wolf and the Stars
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Cahuac and the Sun
A Myth from The Cahuac Cycle
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Hear, O Children, hear of the days when the world was yet young and the dew lay still upon the earth, of a time when the shadows from the dark places stalked the People.
In those days, the earliest that we know, in the past so distant that numbers can not count the passing of the seasons, the People dwelt as one. Mighty hunters they were, that feared neither the shadows nor the dark places they crept from.
Mightiest of all was great Cahuac, he of the People, yet not born of the People. Child of the fairest maid of the Sky-Plains, She of the Silver Moon, he was gifted to the People in the hour of their darkest need.
As a child he was gifted, and like all young he grew, yet he was unlike any other child of the People. Tall and strong he became, mighty and fair to behold, the splendour of the shimmering moon resting upon his brow and his voice like unto soft music that drifts ephemeral through the night should he wish, or unto the rolling thunder that crashes its majesty across the plains. In all things he was the most skilled, yet he turned not to pride at the works of his hands or tongue, giving freely, for all he did was done for the People.
Upon the day of his coming of age he journeyed far at the behest of his mother, She of the Silver Moon, questing in the dark places and daring even to wrest from the grip of the shadows weapons of power. Many were his deeds and long were his journeys, yet they remain deeds to be sung another day.
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In those days Sun followed not a set course across the Sky-Plains, for he was a mighty hunter, journeying where he would in pursuit of the Animal-Spirits, even questing for the Lady Moon, for her beauty had intoxicated him and his desire for her was great. Where he lingered on his travels, the lands became burnt and lifeless, and in those lands that he forsook, darkness fell and the sharp bite of cold was felt.
Thus it came to be that Sun travelled far beyond the mountains to the lands beyond and lingered there, for he found the lands there pleasing and bountiful in game. Darkness swept across the plains and the sky dimmed; colours faded too, their warmth and vibrancy seeping into the gloom. A chill settled upon the People and they suffered dreadfully, crying out in loud voice of their despair, begging for Sun to return and with him his life-giving warmth.
One though alone knew not fear, nor despair, even as he suffered cruelly. Despite the chill that seeped into the very bones, despite the darkness that bore in all malignantly, he vowed that he would journey forth to see Sun and return him to the People, even if it should take him to the far corners of the world and consume a thousand lifetimes.
“People of the Aracan,” Cahuac cried out, the darkness giving way to the keenness of his tongue as water before a spear. “My brothers and sisters, despair not. Though Sun has journeyed far from us and our lands and left us with naught but the dark and the cold in which the shadows dwell, I shall go forth to find him and compel him to return to our People.” Then the People were left in wonder at the words of Cahuac, and praised him loudly, for they lightened hearts that had been weighed down with dread and fear.
Then the people bid their farewells to Cahauc, and unto each other. Men and women, young and old, even the very dogs of the camp, all lay down on the chill earth and silence fell heavy, all waiting, as if already dead.
Cahuac took up his weapons, those that he had wrested from the shadows in dark places. A spear he carried set with a blade of deadly bright bronze that shone like unto Sun in his glory, whilst the haft was of dark wood that could be neither burned nor broken. A knife too he had, of stone as black as the deepest night, and unto its edge all things parted as if they were but mist.
Fleet of foot Cahuac set forth, like unto the wind or kangaroo that bound across the plains, hunting Sun as he had hunted the beasts that roamed the grasslands. He sought high and he sought low, forsaking food, forsaking water, even forsaking sleep. There was no place that could escape his keen eyed gaze, keen as that of the hawk that soars above.
Yet great Cahauc, mightiest of us all, was not without limits even though his endurance was as a dozen men. The seeping cold and the darkness rested heavy upon him and in time even he too wearied in his search for Sun. The cold earth offered itself up onto Cahauc, and he rested there upon it. As sleep stole upon him, dreams came upon his moon-graced brow.
There was naught but the plains in his dreams, running endless and forever, yet even so Sun was not to be seen. It came to his mind that Sun must lie beyond sight, even beyond the lands where the People Born of Earth dwelt, and thus the only way forward was to ascend to a great height and thereupon attract the attention of Sun.
And lo, there appeared scattered before him across the plains many rocks and these Cahauc gathered up unto himself, and with these he fashioned for himself, with strength renewed by firm purpose, a mighty cairn, stones piled one atop another in the darkness until they reached the very roof of the Sky-Plains.
As the very last rock was laid upon the cairn, Cahauc awoke and beheld before him the very cairn of his dreams, now like unto a mountain. Thus was born Tatochec, the Pillar of the Sky that reaches unto the very roof of the world, made by the moon-graced hand of Cahuac.
To ascend the Pillar is to take one's life into one's own hands even at the best of times, yet brave Cahauc did so even in the dark, scaling the frozen heights for the sake of the People. Despite the cold, despite the gloom, ever upwards did he climb, ever onwards. Cold bit at him and sharp edges tore at hands and feet that he could neither see nor feel.
Yet all journeys come to an end, and thus it was that moon-graced Cahuac at last stood atop Tatochec, having conquered its heights in a journey that none other could have made. Casting his bright-eyed gaze forth, he could see the People, the frozen suffering People, lying still as unto death, yet also he saw, beyond the distant mountains, where dwelt the People Born of Earth, the lingering light of Sun.
With a voice that boomed like the thunder of summer storms Cahauc cried out. “Sun, come to me!”
Yet Sun ignored him and did not come.
Again thunder cracked in a voice more terrible than had been heard before or heard since. “Sun, I, Cahuac, bid you attend me!”
Yet Sun ignored him and did not come.
Then with a voice like unto the softest of breezes and the gentle song of music once more he called out. “Sun, the People need you. Come to me, least all shall perish.”
And Sun was intrigued by this whispering voice and thus it was he sped across the mountains and the plains to where Cahuac stood atop Tatochec that had not previously existed. Slowly, slowly, light and warmth seeped across the plains, then flowed and finally burst forth in a mighty flood of colour. The People cried out in joy, for their suffering was now at an end.
With a voice like the all consuming fires that devour all in its wake Sun spoke. “Why have you bid me come, Cahuac of the Aracan? Why bid me leave those places that I enjoy to come to these cold, dim lands?”
“The People, they suffered, O Sun,” noble Cahuac replied, the glory of the moon shining from his brow, “For you had gone far beyond these lands and left naught but the dark. Across the Sky-Plains you must hunt for the benefit of all, else pass your powers unto another who will.”
And Sun refused, his laughter washing over Cahuac like flames racing across the grasslands, yet Cahuac flinched not.
“If not by your will, then by mine,” Cahuac pronounced, hefting forth his spear of deadly bright bronze. With full measure he launched it and it sailed true, striking Sun upon the chest. Blood like the very fires sprayed forth across both spear and Cahuac, yet he cried out not.
Taking up his knife of black stone, Cahauc again smote at Sun, who cried forth as yet more blood flowed, spilt across the heights of Tatochec until it burned and sent forth great pillars of smoke. Then with a mighty roar, burning-eyed Sun did turn upon Cahuac, the Hunter of the Sky-Plain against the Child of Lady Moon. Great and terrible was their clash, and the ground shuddered at the impact of their blows as they smote upon one another. Across the far plains was seen the flaring of Sun’s fury, and the bellowing of Cahuac’s thundering voice spread wonder to all corners of the lands. All who beheld it cowered in terror, for it was like unto as if the world was being torn asunder.
Yet not even Cahuac, mightiest of us all, can best he who is burning-eyed Sun. In time Cahuac, exhausted beyond all measure and battered, lay defeated before the very feet of Sun. Yet Sun did not strike him down. A veil of darkness passed before Cahuac’s eyes and he fell into a swoon, lying as one who is dead. He had not fallen though, for the mighty Chief of the Sky-Plains raised him up and the veil fell from his eyes.
“By your deeds and courage, Cahuac of the Aracan, I shall honour your request,” burning-eyed Sun told him. “From this day forth I shall travel the ordered path of the Sky-Plains, yet each night I shall rest at this place to honour your bravery. It shall not be without price though, for none here after shall set foot atop sacred Tatochec and live, as the blood that I spilt here would burn them and consume them unto ash. Upon you shall fall a different fate, for you have been marked by my blood, in remembrance of this battle. Go now, and peace be upon you in the long weariness that awaits you.”
“Most noble Sun,” Cahauc replied, his voice melodious yet ringing with power, “I regret not what comes upon me, for all that I have done was not just for the People, but for all people.”
And Sun bowed before Cahuac.
Thus Cahuac, mighty Cahuac departed, taking up his weapons now imbued with power from the blood of Sun, and he strode down from Tatochec to return to the People.
Many were his deeds and long were his journeys.
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The Bowl of Storms
A Myth from The Cahuac Cycle
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Listen, O Children, of a time when the world was yet young, and the dew lay still upon the earth, of days when the shadows crept from the dark places to stalk the People.
In those days, the earliest of which we know, in a past so distant that the numbers thereof are beyond those of the stars, the People dwelt as one. They feared neither the shadows nor the dark places from which they crept, for they were mighty hunters.
Mightiest of all was great Cahuac, he of the People, yet not born of the People. Child of the fairest maid of the Sky-Plains, She of the Silver Moon, he was gifted to the People in the hour of their darkest need.
As a child he was gifted, and like all young he grew, yet he was unlike any other child of the People. Tall and strong he became, mighty and fair to behold, the splendour of the shimmering moon resting upon his brow and his voice like unto soft music that drifts ephemeral through the night should he wish, or unto the rolling thunder that crashes its majesty across the plains. In all things he was the most skilled, yet he turned not to pride at the works of his hands or tongue, giving freely, for all he did was done for the People.
Upon the day of his coming of age he journeyed far at the behest of his mother, She of the Silver Moon, questing in the dark places and daring even to wrest from the grip of the shadows weapons of power. Many were his deeds and long were his journeys, yet they remain deeds to be sung another day.
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In those most distant of days all the lands were rich and fertile, and the game bountiful upon them. The waters of life descended from the Sky-Plains above to settle upon the ground in measure enough for all. The People had want of little, for all that they needed was there before them, and thus it was that they grew strong and spread across the lands.
Yet, in time, the waters ceased to be. The lands no longer received them and become parched, becoming as unto dust that is driven before the winds. The beasts of the plains, and even the People, wandered, calling out to the Sky-Plains for relief, for their anguish was great.
To Cahuac of the Moon-graced brow they turned, for of all the People he was the mightiest, and most wise in the ways of the Sky-Plains. Both beasts and the People turned to him.
"O noble Cahuac!" they cried out in loud and weeping voices, "Most wise of us! Why has it come to be that the waters no longer fall and the earth that succoured us has been turned as unto dust that is driven before the winds?"
"People of the Aracan," Cahuac cried out, the plains booming as with thunder at the echo of his voice, "My brothers and sisters. There is one alone that can tell of the affliction that has beset us, He Who Paints The Sky, who greets us in the mornings and bids us farewell as night falls, who brightens the skies after the storms have passed and scatters the rivers of light across the night's sky. I shall go forth to find him and bid him tell where the waters have gone."
Cahuac took up his weapons, those that he had wrested from the shadows in dark places. A spear he carried set with a blade of deadly bright bronze that shone like unto Sun in his glory, whilst the haft was of dark wood that could be neither burned nor broken. A knife too he had, of stone as black as the deepest night, and unto its edge all things parted as if they were but mist.
Thus did Cahuac set forth over the plains, and his passage was like unto the very wind itself such was his haste. Yet wherever he journeyed, the waters were no more and the lands were bereft of live-giving waters.
In time Cahuac journeyed far from his lands, to the place of the Eagles that dwell aloft in the heights.
"Noble Eagle," he called out, his thunderous voice echoing amongst the heights, "I seek He Who Paints The Sky. Have you with your keen-eyed sight seen him as you soar so high?"
"I have not," the Eagle replied. "But hurry brave Cahuac, for our waters are no more and we are near unto death itself."
And Cahuac pressed on, to the lands of the Old Kangaroo who dwells upon the endless plains
"Old Kangaroo," Cahuac cried out, his thunderous voice echoing across the endless plains, "I seek He Who Paints The Sky. Have you seen him from afar as you bound along?"
"I have not," Old Kangaroo replied. "But hurry moon-graced Cahuac, for the rivers are no more and we are near unto death itself."
Though thirst weighed down with all cruel intent upon him, Cahauc yet pressed on. All along the ways, from the heights to the depths and all that lay between, he asked if any had seen He Who Paints The Sky, yet none could point the way.
Yet great Cahuac, mightiest of us all, was not without limits even though his endurance was unto that of a hundred men. The heat and great dry all rested heavily upon him and in time even he too wearied. The ground offered itself up to him and he rested there upon.
As he rested to recover his strength, he became aware of a tiny creature seeking shelter from the fiery gaze of Sun beneath the shadows of his feet; a tiny Zephyr Mouse.
"Please great Cahuac," the tiny beast squeaked in a voice so soft that only he whose hearing was as keen as the bat that flies at night could hear, "But I hear you have need of a question answered." Now Zephyr Mouse was the least of all creatures, yet Cahuac in his great wisdom knew that even the least of stature are as of much import as the greatest.
"Most humble Mouse," Cahuac responded, "I seek He Who Paints The Sky. Have you seen him as you scurry about?"
"I have," Zephyr Mouse replied. "He has fallen into the lair of the Atlacal, but they saw me not for reason of my modest nature. But hurry great Cahuac, for Sun beats down so mercilessly upon the barren lands and we are near unto death."
And mighty Cahuac himself was troubled with most terrible doubts, for the Atlacal were from the deepest of all places that lie beneath the earth and into which even the shadows dared not tread. Yet Cahuac, he of the moon-graced brow, knew that there was no choice but to dare venture into the very den of the Atlacal.
Tiny Zephyr Mouse, most humble of all beasts, followed in his tracks and pipped up his voice as they reached the very lair of the terrible Atlacal.
"Oh noble Cahuac, there are hidden ways that lead down into the very lair of the Atlacal that they can not tread, but that my kind can by means of our size. If you were but one of us then you could tread them too."
The Cahuac did laugh and lo, he was as unto the Zephyr Mouse himself. Then did the pair descend into the dark places by ways unseen and unknown until at last, in the very depths of the dark, they came upon He Who Paints The Sky.
"Son of the fairest Lady of the Sky-Plains, you have risked much for me," He Who Paints The Sky said unto them, for his keen eye could pierce any disguise.
"Brother of She Who Graces The Night, we set forth to seek for you aid, and thus in turn find that you need ours. And so it is that the circle is complete. The lands, they are unto dust itself, for the waters no longer fall to grace them."
"It is the Atlacal, for they have within their dark grasp the Bowl of Storms itself and it is they who have turned the waters to dust. Now that my bonds are broken, we shall wrest it back from them and restore unto the lands the live-giving waters."
Thus did Cahuac and He Who Paints The Sky and the Zephyr Mouse venture from the very depths and set upon the Atlacal with mighty vengeance. And there, in the dark places, they strove one with another and mighty were their struggles. The sounds of their voices and crash of their blows thundered and shook both ground and sky and there was fear amongst those who heard it, for most terrible was the sound.
Yet many were the Atlacal and no matter how many were thrown down, yet another came forward to wrestle with Cahuac and He Who Paints The Sky and all may have been lost. Then did tiny Zephyr Mouse scurry amongst them, and there, before him, did lay the Bowl of Storms. Within it all was sand and earth and dust. Unseen and unremarked he did creep upon it and dug from it the sand and earth and dust that had stopped up the waters.
Even so, at the moment he had ended his task, Cahauc and He Who Paints The Sky were thrown down by the Atlacal, though many of their foes had suffered greatly in thus doing so. Tears sprung from the eyes of the Zephyr Mouse and one, two, three dripped from him to fall into the Bowl of Storms.
Then did the skies rumble and winds howl and the very depths of the dark places shook from its fury. The waters fell with a great deluge, and the People and Eagle, Old Kangaroo and all others were glad at it, but Zephyr Mouse received not its blessing, for he was in the very depths where it fell not. He Who Paints The Sky leapt to his feet with a mighty roar, his strength renewed and the Atlacal fled at his wrath.
Before the humble Zephyr Mouse, He Who Paints The Sky did kneel. "Small in stature, yet great in heart you are, for it was the waters of your body that returned the waters to the sky. To you and yours I give the Bowl of Storms, for you have proven you worth."
Thus did Zephyr Mouse take the Bowl and carry it into the deep deserts for safe-keeping, for water had passed from his body into the very skies and no more did his kind need it.
And laughing He Who Paints The Sky splashed his colours across the sky, and lo, a great ribbon of colour spread forth and he climbed it and returned to whence he had come.
Then Cahuac took up his weapons and departed the dark places of the Atlacal and returned to the People.
Many were his deeds and long were his journeys.
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Cahauc and the Bees
A Myth from The Cahuac Cycle
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Hear, O Children, of the eldest of days when the world was yet young and the dew lay still upon the ground, of a time when the shadows from the dark places stalked the People.
In those days, the earliest that we know, in the past so distant that they are beyond the numbers of the sands on the shores, the People dwelt as one. Mighty hunters they were, who feared not the shadows, nor the dark places from which they crept.
Mightiest of them all was great Cahauc, he of the People, yet not born of the People. Child of the fairest maid of the Sky-Plains, She of the Silver Moon, he was gifted to the People in the hour of their darkest need.
As a child he was gifted, and like all young he grew, yet he was unlike any other child of the People. Tall and strong he became, mighty and fair to behold, the splendour of the shimmering moon resting upon his brow and his voice like unto soft music that drifts ephemeral through the night should he wish, or unto the rolling thunder that crashes its majesty across the plains. In all things he was the most skilled, yet he turned not to pride at the works of his hands or tongue, giving freely, for all he did was done for the People.
Upon the day of his coming of age he journeyed far at the behest of his mother, She of the Silver Moon, questing in the dark places and daring even to wrest from the grip of the shadows weapons of power. Many were his deeds and long were his journeys, yet they remain deeds to be sung another day.
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Now it came to be that the rains returned once more to the lands of the People and all things again flourished, all but for one. For the flowers that had graced the earth like the very rainbows of the Sky-Painter were no more and the lands were without colour. Yet with them being no more, the bees could no more bring forth their bounties of the golden honey upon which the People did feast.
The People mourned long for the loss of that sweetest honey, and in their anguish they cried out to Cahuac of the Moon-Graced brow, mighty Cahuac, most skilled and wisest of us all.
"O noble Cahuac!" they cried out in loud and weeping voices, "Most wise of us! The bees that once blessed us with their golden nectar, that which is sweetest of all, do so no more and we know not why."
"People of the Aracan," spake Cahuac, the plains booming as with thunder at the echo of his voice, "These are sad tidings that you bring unto me. Long have the bees gifted us their nectar. But do not despair for I shall go unto the Great Bee and ask as to why the honey is no more."
Cahuac took up his weapons, those that he had wrested from the shadows in dark places. A spear he carried set with a blade of deadly bright bronze that shone like unto Sun in his glory, whilst the haft was of dark wood that could be neither burned nor broken. A knife too he had, of stone as black as the deepest night, and unto its edge all things parted as if they were but mist.
Long did Cahuac venture forth and far he did travel, and his passage was like unto the roaring of the very storms themselves. Yet wherever he did venture, he found that the bees no longer produced that which brightens the eyes.
In time he came at last to the farthest parts of the world where grew the Endless Tree. Within its hollows dwelt the Great Bee, the Queen of all Queens, vast and ancient, first of all bees. It was she who first came across the secrets of honey and shared them with her bountiful children.
"O Great Queen," Cahuac spoke, his voice ringing amongst the high branches of the Endless Tree. "I have come far to ask why it is that your children no longer produce that which is sweetest of all and brightens the eye."
And the Queen of all Queens answered in a thousand voices. "My children can no longer sing that which is sweetest of all, for the colours of the lands have faded and the life has gone up from them. Yet, mighty Cahuac there exists still, in one last place, the colours of the lands, in the High Places, yet they are beyond our means to reach and bring forth from them that which is sweetest of all."
"Then I shall journey to this place and return the colours to the land, even if the journey should last unto a thousand lifetimes," brave Cahuac pronounced.
Yet the Queen of all Queens knew not where the High Places lay.
And Cahuac pressed on, to the place of the Eagles that dwell aloft in the heights, for of all things it is they who are keenest of vision.
"Noble Eagle," Cahuac called out, his thunderous voice echoing amongst the heights, "I seek the High Places where still the colours of the lands bloom and grow, for without them the bees can no longer sing that which is most sweet to the lips. Have you, with your keen-eyed sight, seen them as you soar so high amongst the Sky-Plains?"
Then did Eagle speak. "I have, brave Cahuac, and this place you know full well, for by your hands was it brought forth in the days when Sun did not show his face and journeyed far from these lands."
Fleet of foot Cahuac set forth once more, journeying the long and wearing paths to Tatochec, the Pillar of the Sky that reached to the very roof of the world itself, and upon whose towering heights Cahuac had done battle with wayward Sun.
Once before had Cahuac braved the terrible heights, and once more did Cahuac make to ascend it. The winds howled and tore at him, and sharp edges reached out to strike at him, yet unwavering he was as he climbed until at last he stood atop the roof of the world, and the lands were spread out beneath him.
And bright were the colours of the land that bloomed before him atop the roof of the world, like unto the rainbows that He Who Paints The Sky causes to shine when the wild storms have passed. Thick they were clustered and heady was their perfume that overwhelmed the senses, for this was the garden of Sun himself, wherein he rested each night from his long journey across the Sky-Plains.
Now noble Cahuac could have but plucked the blossoms he needed, yet he did not, for he was not one to take that which was not his. So there he waited, atop the roof of the world itself, waiting for the return of He Who Burns.
Then did evening fall and from afar did the Hunter of the Sky-Plains see Cahuac atop the Pillar of the Sky, and across the sky he sped.
"Twice now you have ascended the Pillar of the Sky, and the fires have not consumed you, and once more shall you come, at the end," burning-eyed Sun proclaimed. "Why have you climbed to the High Places, Cahuac of the Aracan? For what reasons have you risked the fires that devour?"
"Noble Sun," spake Cahuac, and in his voice there was the lamentations of the People, "I come not for myself, but for all the peoples that dwell in the lands, and even the beasts as well. The colours of the lands are no more, and the bees can not sing that which is sweetest to taste and that brightens the eye. I come to beg of you that you would allow us a small portion of your gardens to restore the lands, so that all will be as it once was."
And Sun did laugh, and the sound was like unto the roar of the campfire in the dark of night, and there was warmth there akin to them as well. "This I shall allow, Child of the Lady Moon, for you came neither for yourself nor as a thief to take that which was not yours. How though do you plan to return the colours to the lands?"
Then did Cahuac cry out in a piercing voice that rung throughout the corners of the world, and lo, Noble Eagle came to him on swift wings. "Friend Eagle," Cahuac did say, "Will you carry these blossoms and spread them across the lands so that colour returns to them, so that the bees can sing once more that which is sweetest to the lips?"
"It shall be as you ask," Eagle did reply, and thus he took up the blossoms in his claws and bore them aloft, and as he travelled upon his broad wings, the colours did rain down upon the lands, and once more they did brighten it. And the bees did once more sing, and that which brightens the eye did flow forth again.
Then did Cahuac, mighty Cahuac, bow before Sun and depart. Down from Tatochec that brushed the sky he strode to return to the waiting People.
Many were his deeds and long were his journeys.
* * * * *
Wolf and the Stars
A Myth from The Cahuac Cycle
* * * * *
Hearken to me, O Children, and hear of the days when the world was still new, and the dew lay wet upon the ground, of a time when the shadows crept from the dark places to haunt the People.
In those days, the earliest of which we know, in the past so distant that the numbers of the days since are beyond those of the stars of the night, the People dwelt as one. They feared neither the shadows nor the dark places from which they crept, for they were mighty hunters.
Mightiest of all was great Cahuac, he of the People, yet not born of the People. Child of the fairest maid of the Sky-Plains, She of the Silver Moon, he was gifted to the People in the hour of their darkest need.
As a child he was gifted, and like all young he grew, yet he was unlike any other child of the People. Tall and strong he became, mighty and fair to behold, the splendour of the shimmering moon resting upon his brow and his voice like unto soft music that drifts ephemeral through the night should he wish, or unto the rolling thunder that crashes its majesty across the plains. In all things he was the most skilled, yet he turned not to pride at the works of his hands or tongue, giving freely, for all he did was done for the People.
Upon the day of his coming of age he journeyed far at the behest of his mother, She of the Silver Moon, questing in the dark places and daring even to wrest from the grip of the shadows weapons of power. Many were his deeds and long were his journeys, yet they remain deeds to be sung another day.
* * * * *
In those days, the earliest that we know, the stars were not yet scattered across the skies and only She Who Graces The Night shed her light upon the lands once burning-eyed Sun rested from his days of hunting across the Sky-Plains, atop the Pillar of the Sky. Yet there were nights where Lady Moon hid her face from the lands and darkness closed in all around. On those nights the People huddled around their fires for the shadows came forth from the dark places to stalk the lands.
Now Wolf was the most cunning of all the hunters on the plains and even the shadows from the dark places had learnt to fear him. It came to pass that the She-Wolf, the mate of Wolf, had born cubs and Wolf went out into the night to hunt for She-Wolf, a night in which She Who Graces The Night was hiding her face.
Far he travelled beneath the dark, yet the plains were devoid of any game and only a lonely wind blew, cold and mournful. Wolf was not one to give up easily though and his ways took him far from the den of his mate until at last he caught the scent of prey.
This was no ordinary prey, for in the darkest of dark that night there rested He Who Paints The Sky, waiting for the coming dawn to spread his colours to brighten the day.
Now Wolf knew not who he was, yet still fearless he sprung forward, for here was prey when there was no other to be found. And away sprang He Who Paints The Sky, out into the darkest night for such was the sound of the descent of Wolf that it was like unto the ending of all things. Such was his haste that He Who Paints The Sky did leave behind his paints and his stones with which he brought colour to world.
Wolf was curious as to these things that were left behind and he did snatch up in his mouth the paints and stone to carry off with him, and then in pursuit of his prey he sprung, for the hunt was on. Like the cold wind from the south that wails all unstoppable he raced through that dark night.
Through out that long night in which She of the Silvery Moon hid her face they raced, Wolf and his prey, locked in the chase that never could end, for both were matched in speed and endurance, and tireless was their step.
He Who Paints The Sky laughed to himself as he danced through the long dark, for fear of Wolf was no longer with him, and so he led him along distant ways, from the high places to they very depths of the earth. The sound of their feet and the laughs of He Who Paints The Sky and the howls of Wolf shook the night, and even the shadows fled in terror at their approach.
The sounds of that pursuit came even to the People where they huddled around their fires, waiting for the long dark of night to pass. And mighty Cahuac, hearing the howls and the laughs, was curious as to what manner of beast caused it, so he took up fire and went out into the dark of night to see who it was that so disturbed the stillness of the dark.
Long he did travel, and far his stride took him until at last he came upon the pair across the distant plains, the hunter and his prey in ceaseless chase.
Upon the coming of Cahuac, He Who Paints The Sky breathed upon the fire that the mighty hunter held and, lo, sparks billowed out into the dark of night and it was dark no more, for the first stars had taken aflame in brilliant array. And the shadows did tremble at the coming of this new light to the darkest night.
Wolf halted his hunt and gazed up in wonder at this new thing that lit the Sky-Plains, for there was beauty there where before there had been none.
Yet not forever would the stars stay lit, for they were but sparks of the fire, and slowly they began to dim and fade out, and not for forever would Wolf be fascinated by them.
"Noble Cahuac," spake He Who Paints The Sky, "We can not allow this new thing, that causes the shadows in their dark places to quiver with fear, to fade out and die. Take up that fire that you carry and cast it aloft into the Sky-Plains for it to burn for all time and scatter it sparks across the night's sky."
And thus Cahuac did as requested, and with a mighty throw he cast it aloft, far out into the dark of night, and stars trailed in its wake.
Now Wolf, the most cunning of hunters, dropped the paints and stones of He Who Paints The Sky and leapt after the fire that blazed a trail aloft, and he caught it in his jaws from which none could escape. And there he remains to this day, running across the Sky-Plains with the fire in his jaws, streaming stars in his wake.
Once in a life time he returns, when the stars are growing dim, and then you can see him blaze his trail, to rekindle them with his fury, and in those days he burns brightly for all to see.
And the She-Wolf in her den mourns still for her mate lost amongst the stars, and each night she and her children call to him, their long howls lingering in the darkness, and thus they will do until the day Wolf returns from the Sky-Plains.
The End
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