Færn was facing Taghna. He was wearing an old loincloth around his hips. The day was dawning and the dark blue of the sky was dotted with white clouds in which Taghna would have liked to immerse herself. She realized that she could no longer calm down near the earth, and her mind was irremediably drawn to the blue immensity that hovered above all the things that surrounded her. She let herself go into the contemplation of the immensity.
More serene, she looked for her brataïr. Slavan was walking slowly towards the mataïg. He was even more emaciated than the last time she had seen him. His hollow cheeks brought out his cheekbones and jawline.
He went to introduce himself to the séalyar. Séabanh, back from her harvest with Maoïr, approached the boy. He didn't need to say anything, to confess his defeat in the form of words. When she saw it so shaken and weak, the dean understood. She put her hand on his shoulder and forced him to look her straight in the eye. Taghna saw a mixture of feelings: pain but no bitterness or disappointment. Still silent, Séabanh let got of Slavan. The dean closed the entrance to the mataïg with a weary gesture.
There was nothing more to expect.
Out of habit, Slavan went to where the children had gathered every night to eat, talk and sleep. The place around which they had shared so many warm moments no longer existed. Only a trace of earth, blackened by fire, remained. The old heat had disappeared and would not return until the next generation of children.
He remained there for a moment, contemplating the empty space before going to sit against the wall of a house. Taghna wanted to join him but she knew that nothing would fill the void he was experiencing anymore. She felt strangely connected to him, because she herself felt a lack that she had difficulty describing. The path that had guided their steps had suddenly disappeared. They found themselves without direction.
Asgeül brought a bowl of smoking meat to Slavan. She too was sparsely dressed in a skin with holes in it. Around her neck was tied a wolf's fang. When Taghna saw the object, she felt an even greater abyss opening up in her. Not only had Asgeül managed to survive, she had also felled one of the forest's most cunning predators. Thanks to this small object, her link to the village was well-deserved, clear and definitive.
Slavan refused the food, turning his head away. He didn't want to take what didn't belong to him anymore. The sneaky and painful realization of being a burden for others crept into his thoughts. It altered and infected all relationships that were otherwise carried out naturally. His brataïr convinced him to eat anyway. After all, the food was ready, so it should not be wasted. He accepted with reluctance and also because he was famished.
Taghna looked at the adults who went about their business without conviction. Some were weaving baskets, others were finishing sorting food that had been left to dry on a roof. They were eager to officially end the stroïgil.
As far back as their memories went, they had never witnessed such a massacre. Only Caïséan, Asgeül, Taghna and Færn had survived. They were barely enough to form a cuélan. Everyone was wondering how they would survive the next Hir.
There were certainly fewer mouths to feed, but adults who had previously spent a lot of time refraining from eating in order to promote children's development had to regain their strength before they could begin to fill the reserves. They had to eat a large amount of fruit, fish, roots and leaves that were still tender and full of nutrients. Then would come the time of the hunt, when the young adults were at their peak and could spend long, uninterrupted days tracking.
The inhabitants of Séaroën no longer had much time: the séalyar had delayed the stroïgil as long as they could. That was not all. If, until now, the days had lengthened and the adults had been busy checking the state of their territory and teaching the children, this slowness was not for nothing. They knew that they also gave game the opportunity to grow and gain strength.
Killing a young deer brought ephemeral relief to a hollow belly, but it meant that its offspring would disappear with it. Thus, the hunters only really began to attack when the forest was adorned with yellow, red and brown. They would do their best to avoid females, too, for fear of killing the young fetus they would carry.
In addition to these difficulties, there was competition with other villages. Unlike the smooth encounter with the archféar that the children had witnessed when they were still small, every day with the approaching Hir increased the risk of altercation, when people wanted to benefit from every available resource.
The hunters' developed senses prevented an inappropriate encounter but this made the attacks all the more obvious, as that would be a clear sign of aggression since they'd been sneakily ambushing their prey.
In the village, the rest of the morning passed in complete silence. Slavan took the opportunity to escape without being noticed. He could not bear the gaze of others that didn't focus on his person as if he didn't exist. Moreover, his failure reminded the inhabitants of the difficulties that would come. Slavan embraced his status as a durséar and went into the forest.
Taghna wanted to go after him, but Færn stopped her in her tracks. She could not influence Slavan's decision. His whole being had become a durséar. Moreover, these were the traditions of the village. Taghna's promise to save her friends came back to her mind and her anger reappeared, multiplied tenfold by her inability to change the course of events.
How could Drahul, Furig, and even Vorn, who had given birth to Slavan, attend this scene without reacting? Hadn't they formed a culéan? And what were the séalyas doing besides waiting, forbidding or ordering? Taghna thought fighting was the best course of action.
With good organization and an equitable division of labour, Séaroën could survive, she was sure of it. After all, those who had failed to pass the stroïgil were still able to pick plants. The inhabitants did not need to freeze in such old and rigid obligations.
As if to answer her questions, Séabanh came out of mataïg, followed by Dannaï and Dorséanan. They called on each member of the village to meet. Similarly to Dorséanan's ceremony, the adults stopped their activities and answered the call. A circle was formed around the séalyar.
Taghna stayed at the back. She didn't want to be around others, as she hated her for their passivity. The fragrance of the flowering séarach impregnated the air with a heavy, almost nauseating smell that added to Taghna's discomfort. Séabanh spoke:
- Residents of Séaroën. This is a grave time. Lorgá has spoken, we must listen to her. We can no longer afford to wait. Don't let your doubts get in the way. Perpetuate our traditions with a clear and attentive mind. You'll need it to hunt. I will take care of finding our people who didn't come back from the stroïgil myself.
Some of the torpor in adults dissipated as if under the effect of a soothing breeze. Their bodies relaxed, their shoulders, tense until now, lowered and they lifted their heads in a movement animated by the honour they felt of being part of Séaroën. A few words from Séabanh had been enough for hope to return inside their eyes.
Taghna remained bitter, angry. That was not enough for her. As a matter of fact, she had paid little attention to the dean's sermon. She had only one thing on her mind: to act without losing a moment.
Séabanh continued:
- Thanks to the efforts of Caïséan and Færn, we will share a meal tonight to give us the strength to overcome these trials. Remember that--
- Why don't we go get Déan, Branach and the others right away? cut Taghna.
Her voice was filled with rage and her intensity had slammed into the warm, sweet air. She wanted to get to the point, but Dorséanan was quick to reprimand her:
- Taghna, that's enough.
- No, that's not enough. I want to know.
- All right, said Séabanh, more understanding.
She was ready to give ground to the young rebel. She knew Taghna's stubbornness and knew that it was better to answer her questions to calm her down. Séabanh didn't know how wrong she was right now. Taghna's anger had grown, tooken a momentum that was almost impossible to stop anymore.
- What do you want to know? Asked Séabanh.
- If it were enough to hunt, I could do it for you. But do you have to abandon your children? Why don't we go help our friends right now?
- You are very pretentious to say that you can provide as many catches as we all of us, said Séacas.
- If Lorgá has decided the fate of our children, we must rely on her, added Bolgan, the woman who had given birth to Déan.
- Listen to yourself! Said Taghna. Lorgá here, Lorgá there. She's all you have in your mouth. I'm telling you, I'm capable of--
- Capable of insulting our traditions, yes! Spat Dorséanan whose eyes were dark with anger.
The youngest of the deans was by far the one who most deeply revered the customs of the village and to hear them being insulted in this way was unacceptable to her. She was closely supported by Roséan, and the two adults faced Taghna's challenge.
- Our traditions... You mean the ones that forced Slavan into exile, right? replied Taghna.
- Taghna, no one forced Slavan to leave, you defile his memory by affirming the opposite, said Séabah. Moreover, there is no question of being able to hunt for everyone.
- And why is that? To eat, you have to hunt. And I can do it better than anyone else.
A few words of protest were heard from the assembly. Apart from Færn, no one had witnessed Taghna's abilities during the stroïgil. Taghna, however, attributed her victory over the bear more to luck than to her ability. What she later realized was that she could blend in with the animals more than any adult had ever done. They had never touched a living animal before and often missed their catch.
- It's not that simple, said Séabanh, less and less patient. There will come a time when you will understand.
- No, I want to know right now!
- There is a balance to be respected. Séaroën has been able to survive until now thanks to the protection of this balance.
Taghna, more and more heated and less and less ready to listen to the wrong reasons given by the séalyar, had come forward and was now facing Séabanh. The old woman seemed small, almost insignificant to her. She now only looked like a withered mushroom.
- The balance, our traditions. I'm tired of your words! Ranié died because of it, I saw her with my own eyes.
- Enough!
Roséan's voice thundered and resounded between the branches of the séarach. The man moved to come between Taghna and Séabanh but Taghna pushed him away. The hunter, surprised by Taghna's strength, lost his balance and fell heavily.
A deathly silence fell on the village.
Taghna was panting, she had trouble concentrating. She saw in Roséan's eyes, as well as those of many adults, that she was seen as a wild animal. They no longer recognized one of their own.
The faces of Séabanh and Dorséanan were frozen in an expression of fear mixed with disgust. Taghna had gone too far, but they had never had to deal with this situation before. They didn't know how to solve the problem. Only Dannaï had the presence of mind to whisper sweet words:
- Come now, Taghna, we all think about the good of Séaroën, and we don't want our children to die. But we need a little time to get organized. Lorgá must guide us...
- But that's what I want to do, said Taghna, less tense. I also want to help, if only you--
- Shut up! Asgeül cut off. You've done enough harm as it is.
- Asgeül, don't say that, it's not about evil, said Dannai. Our tradit-
- No, go ahead, continue, Taghna said, turning towards her brataïr. What's your point, huh?
Taghna's anger clouded her senses. Her vision was reduced to Asgeül's hateful face, her chest lacked air and she had difficulty hearing the sounds accurately. She squeezed her hands so tightly that her nails penetrated her skin. Asgëul persisted:
- If you hadn't used all the uisgaïr, Slavan, Branach and all the others would still be among us.
- Children, we can't know Lorgá's reasons... added Dannai, whose presence no longer existed for Taghna. Only the rage against her brataïr grew like a flooded river that swept down a mountain, tearing everything away in its path.
- And you think I wanted what's happened? You think I'm happy about that?
- You always wanted to do it all by yourself. Always.
- You're lying, I've always wanted to help you!
- Help us? You're a selfish. You'd better go into exile, spat Asgeül.
That was the one sentence too many. Taghna threw herself on Asgeül in a terrifying shout. Asgeül and Taghna struck where they found openings, banging, scratching, grumbling like rabid animals. They fell and rolled into a confused melee.
Asgeül found support to free herself. She managed to get up again but Taghna, faster, stood up in a flash. She hit her head on the temple and threw Asgeül to the ground. Stunned, Asgeül had not time to react that Taghna's fists were already raining on her defenseless head and face.
Taghna no longer had control of her body. She was unaware of the silence that reigned over the village. No one dared to intervene because the young woman's rage was so fierce, overwhelming and destructive. It was like a glowing blaze that could only be looked at with a disturbing attraction.
Taghna's fists, heavied with resentment linked to her failures and the rejection she felt towards the village, rained down on Asgeül. Taghna was screaming so much she felt her throat tearing out. She wanted to get rid of her anger and frustration, but each volley only amplified the power of her resentment.
Each blow reminded her of the darkness she had fallen into while Séabanh held her head underwater. Each cracking of her knuckles as they met a part of Asgeül's body revived her disappointment at not being able to protect her friends, revealing her weakness and made her acquired strength too late.
Taghna was unleashing her fury as much about the growing disputes she had had with her brataïr as about the rejection she had felt when she was unable to join others without feeling uneasy. Without her realizing it, she destroyed her self-image by responding to the anger that moved her.
The storm that animated her body seemed unstoppable, but even the most deadly tempest of the Hir are not eternal.
Taghna was hitting only a mass of flesh when her arms stopped moving. Asgeül was unrecognizable, her face dripping with blood. Her breath only emitted a sinister rasp coming out of cracked lips that showed many broken teeth. Her eyelids were so swollen that she couldn't have opened them even if she had wanted to.
Dorséanan rushed at her, pushing Taghna who slumped to the ground like an empty bag. She asked for help, called Maoïr and Dannaï but nobody moved. The young séalyar rushed to repair the most serious wounds. She had to act before the uisgaïr took effect.
Not realigning a broken bone could lead to a lifelong limp, as was the case with Séacas. The after-effects could be worse. If the bones of the nose were to be repaired while the air flow was not free, Asgeül would never again be able to smell the odours and follow the tracks of the game. Dorséanan was doing her best but if it had been a wild beast that had attacked the young woman, the result would not have been different.
She put Asgeül's nose back in place, producing a dry cracking sound. She also closed her wounds and cuts that were all over her face, those where the skin, close to a protruding bone, had been deeply cut. The uisgaïr was already starting to work. Blood stopped flowing with abundance.
In her haze, Taghna was looking for an explanation for such a wave of violence. She didn't recognize herself. She looked around her. The looks that stared at her no longer reflected the image she knew. She had become a dangerous and frightening being.
Færn was sobbing uncontrollably and Maoïr was ready to cry. Caïséan was holding her face in a gesture that seemed to beg for things to go back to the way they were before, for none of this to have happened. Dannaï was frozen like a stone and did not detach her eyes from Asgeül. Some adults turned their eyes away from the scene; they could not believe what had just happened.
Taghna felt a tear in her chest. Her head was spinning and heavy, but she knew she had done the irreparable. She was only a source of misfortune and disaster. She got up, painfully, and ran away, leaving everything she loved and had destroyed.