Wings of Change

Handfasting

I take Biré for my mate on the last night of the Gathering. There is much feasting, much drinking, and much joy. There are seven other girls who take mates at this Gathering. The weight of the imminent invasion from the south hangs over us all like a giant tree waiting to fall. We want to start our families while there's still time.

Each of the young couples stand in front of a huge bonfire, the flames dancing behind us as one by one we take their beloved's hands in our own and speak the words of binding. Afterwards all are blessed by each Clan, walking down the hill between a double row of the elders and seers in our turn.

Biré and I are the last to pledge our lives to each other, to our families, to our unborn children, and to Alba itself. I wear Elder Mam's red-dyed cloak, with a crown of flowers my little sisters made for my hair. Biré is handsome with peregrine and kestrel feathers braided into his tawny hair.

We celebrate our union that night beneath the stars. The women of the Epidii have made a soft bed for us on the top of the broch. Biré and I climb hand in hand up the stone steps winding through the walls. As we step out into the open air, he laughs softly.

"See what they have done for us," he says, drawing me to his side and tucking me into the crook of his arm.

Four bright torches flutter in the sea breeze at the four cardinal directions: east, west, north, and south. Heaped in the center of the flat wooden roof is a deep pile of furs and woven blankets. Nearby sits a tray with an abundance of provisions: a clay pot of stew, a platter of roasted fish, bannocks, shelled nuts. A large pitcher and two carved wooden cups rest beside the tray – no doubt ale or mead – to relieve the thirst we will soon arouse.

My head ducks shyly into Biré's chest. I may be a seer-in-training, but I am also a girl. After tonight, I will truly be a woman.

My new mate leads me to the wall encircling the roof and we look out into the night. Thousands of twinkling stars light the sky above, while hundreds of flickering fires dot the hollows of the moor below. I can see the moon reflecting off the sea waves past the shoreline, and I sigh with contentment.

I utter a silent prayer to all the gods of Alba that the children Biré and I bring forth from our union will live to see our land as we do. I turn to face him and lift my lips to his as the light of the torches shines in his eyes. After a long moment, I draw back and search his face.

"What?" he asks softly.

Laughing, I wrap my arms tighter around his shoulders. "I was wondering," I say. "Is the Change something born in the blood of the Epidii? Or must it be learned?" I drop my eyes coyly. "It would be hard to see my mate and children fly away into the sky, where I could not follow."

Biré grins widely. "Is that why you took me? To learn to Change, to fly? No other reason?"

I smile up at him in the star-speckled darkness. "I can think of one or two other reasons," I say, "if I put my mind to it." My fingers begin to work at the leather ties which hold his jerkin closed at his throat. His smooth throat, the flesh so soft for a boy...For a man. "And you? Why did you choose me?" I ask.

His broad hands weave into my dark hair, skewing the wilting wreath of flowers. "Well," he begins, lowering his lips to the space between my cheek and ear. I shiver with pleasure, pushing his jerkin from his shoulders. "I was tired of flying with my brother and sister," he goes on. "It was time I had someone else to fly with."

He pulls me away from the wall, the lights below and above forgotten, and we tumble onto the pile of bedding. Our lips meet hungrily beneath the stars. The world beyond our rooftop disappears.

"If only I had known," I say, "how lovely it is to fly. I would have found you sooner."

If only I had known how many different ways there were to fly.