Thanks to Ergatul's care, Slavan recovered from his fever and quickly regained weight. When Taghna saw him, while he was enjoying the sun, lying on the thick grass and dressed in the traditional clothes of the muïréal, she saw the evolution of her brataïr. The still childlike features that characterized him after the stroigïl had given way to a nascent beard, a determined jaw and a deep gaze marked by trials. He had become a man.
Little by little, the two brataïr integrated the village of the Great Plains. Eager to help those who had saved them from certain death, Slavan and Taghna did their utmost to help the villagers. They were thus able to discover the habits and differences of the village as they went about their work.
At first, Taghna was very worried that the muïréal were so poorly dressed. She had dressed in the lightest loincloth she could find, more out of mimicry towards her peers than out of necessity, not feeling the bite of the wind on her skin. She feared that those who had not benefited from Lorgá's gifts would freeze on the spot.
She realized, however, that the adults didn't pay much attention to the elements, leaving their arms and calves exposed, and that even children got rid of their big jackets at the first opportunity so they could run and play at their leisure. She guessed that during the summer, the temperatures were mild enough for anyone to enjoy them.
That wasn't the only thing that surprised Taghna. Despite the apparent barrenness of the Great Plains, the muïréal were particularly ingenious at making the most of what nature had to offer. On her first excursion, Taghna accompanied Gedrï and the couple from a village she did not know. They went a short distance from the village to harvest Taghna's favorite food, mil.
There were holes in the ground that were so well hidden that Taghna almost fell into one of them. She noticed that the holes were far from empty and were full of bees. Gedrï explained to her that the insects produced the much sought-after mil. All they had to do was smoke the hives to get the precious nectar.
Taghna was also amazed to discover the cereal harvest. Some grasses, which tips were bent under the weight of large seeds, proved to be nutritious and, above all, practical to transport. They grew in thickets scattered over a vast territory. Once crushed and dried, the seeds made a beige powder. Mixed with water, they would make pancakes or flatbreads.
Other parts of the vast muïréal territory contained peat, a kind of soil that could be burned. Being the only source of combustion in the village, this ground was precious and occupied most of the activities of the inhabitants at one time or another during the day. Large blocks were pulled from the ground with short, thick sticks before being carried into the cave and cut into smaller pieces.
The Great Plains proved to be more diverse than Taghna had imagined. Some parts, irrigated by tiny but numerous streams, formed swamps. These were considered very dangerous and children were not allowed to go there under any circumstances. It took a great deal of experience to discern where the ground became too wet and could swallow up those who ventured into it.
The waterlogged earth attracted a wide variety of small animals. It was up to the Abtui, who were used to this type of environment, to exploit these foodstuffs. They caught frogs, all kinds of insects and some fish. These catches were eaten the same day and provided fresh food that was much appreciated by the whole village.
Gedrï explained to Taghna that there was a large body of water several days' walk southward. The child could not define its size, but his exaggerated gestures indicated gigantic dimensions. His néach, two Abtui exiles, went there regularly to fish, prepare and dry the fish they caught.
The fishermen used many types of weapons: spears with the tip divided into several sharp points, specially designed baskets that trapped prey, and nets with knots so fine that Taghna wondered how anyone had the skill and patience to weave them.
Another tool that fascinated Taghna was sleds. Equipped with long, sturdy, rough ropes, the muïréal pulled them at high speed. Like that, they could carry heavy loads, such as pieces of peat or baskets of dried fish. Taghna soon realized the value of such a means of transport, which allowed a single person to carry the load of an entire group.
Her curiosity eventually aroused suspicion on the muïréal's side. These vehicles were one of their most precious possessions, and they resented the fact that Taghna spent her time looking at them, trying to understand their construction and observing their every detail.
Few villagers knew the methods of making one from scratch and it was said that their invention came from a former member of a village that had now disappeared, far away to the east. Even more important was the wood used in its construction. This material could not be found in the Great Plains.
On the Séaroën estate, Taghna had never had to worry about the wood she used. She had even been taught not to get attached to her tools because it was often easier to make them on the spot according to the situation. The muïréal lived far away from trees and took great care of the reserves they kept in a special room in their cave. They never used a wooden tool if they could replace it with something else.
Séarrub explained that the excursions were organized to replenish wood supplie. They were among the most dangerous and important in the village. Only the most resourceful and resilient individuals were chosen. They were given food, tools and weapons to help them resist the long journey. They would travel north up the Great Plains and pick up what they found before going the other way.
Séarrub had never witnessed the failure of such a trip, but Ergatul had told of the turmoil in the village when the brave explorers returned late from their journey, or the grief and disappointment when they were never seen again.
It was during these wood-gathering expeditions that the muïréal had the best chance of finding the exiles from other villages. Since the arrival of Taghna and Slavan, only one woman had managed to cross the Great Plains and arrive, more or less safe and sound, at the Muïréal.
Two other people, a man and a woman, had been found almost dead not far from the edge of the forest. The man had not survived the return journey, but the woman, from the Brichnern village, had recovered well. Actually, many of the muïréal had come from Brichnern and formed a community somewhat removed from the rest of the village.
When newcomers managed to reach the Muïréal, a large feast was organized, accompanied with music et chants. This too ended with the consumption of the famous black balls, which were very much enjoyed by the muïréal but remained forbidden to the children.
Taghna also refused to eat them, finding the taste repulsive and the effect disturbing. She had noticed that eating them made men and women dream about things that were unnatural. Fortunately, the next day, eerybody returned to work, a little more resolute, and yet a little less cheerful.
When night came, Taghna was free to do as she pleased. She never felt tired, but eventually fell asleep, her body adopting the rhythm of the village.
Before closing her eyes and reaching the depths of the earth, Taghna spent a long time sorting, gauging, checking, refining the sensations that overwhelmed her. During the day, she had her hands full with all the new activities in which she took part, and her senses remained at rest. During the night, on the other hand, alone and calmly, she could ignore the snoring of the muïréal or the crackling of the fire to plunge deep inside herself.
Each night brought its share of discoveries and, like what she learned on the Great Plains, she explored a whole world with her senses amplified from the stroigïl.
At first, confusion and fear of the unknown forced Taghna to interrupt her meditation by opening her eyes, breaking her concentration. Taghna felt as if she was in the stump full of uisgaïr, the one she had almost drowned into during her stroigïl, and anguish overwhelmed her. The space around her had disappeared, her limits had faded away.
She felt that she was in a gigantic world filled with distant and unreachable things. She was accustomed to walking the confines of her domain in just a few days, and these distances were unpleasant, almost hostile to her.
But, little by little, she succeeded in putting in order the various tingling, pressure, tugging and touching that assailed her. Their intensity, density, temperature and frequency formed a unique signature that Taghna was able to identify with increasing ease.
There was this shift, so powerful and destabilizing that Taghna's senses could not, at first, feel anything else. She had the sensation of constantly tipping over, and the pressure of the fall seemed relentless. It took Taghna a long time and all her might to find her balance, until she could concentrate on other impressions.
This opened up a whole range of other sensations. A faint, yet undeniably present, attraction was floating above her head. Taghna felt her as hard and cold, and it formed a counterweight to the shift that had so obsessed her at first.
It was by chance that Taghna realized where this feeling came from. One night, when she couldn't sleep, she had gone outside for some fresh air. She had relaxed, wrapped in silence and, turning her eyes to the moon, she had felt its silent call.
She had accepted the fact matter of factly, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. She had then wondered if the slip had come from the earth. After all, this sensation was diametrically opposed to that caused by the moon. Taghna found it harder to convince herself of this revelation.
Not only did she not understand how and why she could feel the earth, but she also felt many other sensations that she could not associate with the moon or the earth.
Putting these two aside, Taghna ended up feeling a sort of rain of tiny, icy droplets all over her body. She shivered every time she let herself be carried away by their sensation. She appreciated the effect they had on her skin because she felt cleansed of all her problems.
But she still preferred the last type of sensation. Soft, tenuous and barely perceptible, they were almost warm and welcoming. They looked just like the little cloud of presences that had helped her find the muïréal. Taghna liked to imagine that these warm and welcoming presences came from Slavan and from every member of the village. She let herself be tickled by these sensations, reassured to be surrounded by human presence in such a mysterious panorama.
Taghna asked herself many questions, the most pressing of which was what good could these sensations do for her? At least, by feeling the living beings around her, Taghna could tell herself that Lorgá was helping her to hunt game. But how could feeling the presence of the earth, the moon, or those mysterious tingling sensations help her?
She would have liked so much to ask Maoïr or Mariach for their advice. So far away from them, it was easy for her to hope for their help. Their faults disappeared with the distance and their absence broke her heart.
It was when she let herself be lulled by these thoughts that the true face of the inhabitants of Séaroën suddenly came to light. It felt ice running down her spine. She saw again the frightened features of Mariach or the hateful face of Dorséanan, all unable to look her in the eyes after her attack against Asgeül. The sorrow buried Taghna and gushed out at great volume, obscuring all the sensations that her body had taken so long to discern.
Then, between two sobs that she choked so as not to wake Slavan, Taghna forced herself to admit that none of the inhabitants of her old village, of her native root, were willing to help her anymore. She had to stop trying to get in touch with them, stop thinking about bringing them a sled or even asking them questions.
She would never be part of Séaorën again.
Taghna never talked about her nightly meditations. Slavan surprised her one night and, worried, shook her by the shoulders until she came out of her trance. Confused, she had tried to explain to him what she was doing, but he could not understand her. Lacking patience, she got angry and never mentioned the subject again. This rejection of the only person she had known since childhood further accelerated her isolation from the rest of the muïréal.
Only Séarrub and the children brought her a few moments of joy. She spent as much time as possible with them. Strangely enough, their curiosity rivaled that of Taghna's childhood, and their alertness of mind was second to none. In Taghna's eyes, the different traditions of their néach complemented each other's and helped them see their surroundings with fresh eyes. This allowed them to understand things very quickly and to always find a new solution to their problems.
She was happy to notice how sensitive they were to the movements of the wind. For Séaroën, only the earth mattered, and the sky, as they called it here, was synonymous at best with a blatant lack of interest and at worst with danger. On the contrary, the children of the muïréal were playing with pieces of plants. They would weave them so that they would catch the wind and rose high into the sky. The children also managed to anticipate the trajectory of their arrows, their weapon of choice because it was light, precise and fast.
One evening, Taghna was feeling particularly gloomy. She hadn't spoken to Slavan for several days and had hardly eaten anything. Séarrub noticed this and asked her if she wanted to get some fresh air together. The two women had become very close. They never missed an opportunity to chat around the fire while they prepared the meal or broke the peat into small pieces.
For Taghna, Séarrub was everything the people of Séaroën should have been: calm, generous and, above all, open to other ideas, especially if they could save lives. When Taghna shared her feelings with her, Séarrub replied:
- It's nice of you to give me so many qualities, but I don't think I deserve them.
- Yes, you do! You've helped me and Slavan a lot. Just look at how long it took Slavan to succeed in helping the village.
That was true. After his recovery, Slavan had been reluctant to join in, for fear of breaking something or getting hurt, and he stayed behind Taghna, following in her footsteps. This situation did not please Taghna. Their crossing of the Great Plains had certainly brought them closer, but it was Færn she missed, not her brataïr, some of whose traits irritated her immensely. Fortunately, Slavan had finally befriended a woman from Abtui. She had taught him to fish properly and they spent most of their time together.
- Come on, the whole village welcomed you.
- Maybe, but without you, it would have been harder for us to understand the customs of the muïréal.
- It's in the order of things that newcomers take a little time to find their ground. Not everyone is chosen by Lorgá...
Séarrub had uttered these words with a touch of sadness but without anger or reproach. Many muïréal envied Taghna's superior physical abilities. The young woman had learned in no time at all to speak the language of the different villages.
During the night, she would hear the low voice discussions that the villagers shared in the intimacy of their beds. Having learned of Taghna's abilities, some of them would even hesitate to approach her, or they would wall themselves off in stubborn silence as soon as they saw her. They might not want to share all their thoughts, which was quite understandable. Or maybe, it was because Taghna would remind them of their exile and revive memories that were too painful.
- It's true, not everyone has my luck, Taghna admitted. But I have a feeling that the stroigïl isn't the only way to succeed.
- What do you mean?
- Look at this village. How do people manage to survive here?
- It's because we join forces.
- In Séaorën, we did the same thing. Everyone would go hunting or gathering. That doesn't mean that the weakest could stay... Well, not really everyone took part. That damn Séacas didn't seem to do much, him!
Taghna had said that as a joke, without really paying attention. She wanted to continue her tirade but Séarrub's face had suddenly changed. She had frozen in an expression of intense astonishment.
- Did I say something wrong? Taghna asked.
- No, no, don't worry, said Séarrub, relaxing surreptitiously. That's not it. It's just that... Séacas. When you said his name, so many memories came back to me...
Taghna wondered what her friend meant. She thought for a while and guessed that Séarrub wanted to unite with Séacas:
- I don't see how you can want to spend all of Hir with Séacas," she said a little disgusted. He's so-
- That's not what I meant, cut Séarrub, and she exploded in a great burst of laughter that dissipated the tension. You know, I saw something, something I've never forgotten.
- What was it? asked Taghna.
- I don't know if I should say. Besides, it's been so long...
- Come on, don't do that! You can't hide it from me now, especially after saying so much. Tell me, please! begged Taghna, whose curiosity itched her.
- Okay... It was during my stroigïl. You know I'm the same culéan as Maoïr and Roséan?
- Yes, you already told me that.
- The séarach were about to bloom and I still didn't catch a trophy. I had no hope left. I hesitated to return to the village without a catch, and I walked randomly. That's when I found the fresh track of a deer. I couldn't believe my eyes. I followed it with as little noise as possible. I didn't want it to escape. Then I came across one of the most beautiful deers I had ever seen. It had huge antlers. It was majestic, a real leader. I was hiding behind some ferns and I was looking at it, just like that, not thinking about how to shoot it. That's when I heard a little "crack". I thought the deer would run away, but no, it stayed exactly where it was. It was just looking in the direction of the noise. That's when I saw Séacas.
- But it was your prey! And why didn't the deer run away? asked Taghna, hanging from Séarrub's lips but unable to stop herself from asking questions.
- That's not the point. Wait for the rest. Séacas had a spear in his hand. He was so concentrated... When he fired, I really thought he would get it, but he missed.
- I'm not surprised! exclaimed Taghna.
- Do you want me to tell you the rest or not? asked Séarrub, this time with severity.
- Yes, sorry. Go on.
- Séacas had just missed his shot and the deer charged him. I heard a scream and a big crash. By the time I got close enough to see, Séacas was down and the deer was lying next to him, a spear piercing its flank. I couldn't understand what had happened. I was sure that Séacas had only one spear. That's when I saw Roséan arriving.
Taghna was speechless. She couldn't believe what she heard. She tried her best not to ask any more questions, but her mind was boiling with interrogations.
- Then Roséan bandaged Séacas' leg and they walked away. I returned to the village empty-handed. Roséan and Séacas were sitting next to each other. Each had his hunting trophy. As our traditions require, I went to see our séalyar, Diobæ, and I left. I'd never told this story to anyone before.
Taghna couldn't wait any longer and burst into a rage:
- They lied! Roséan helped Séacas and they never said anything!
- Well, I'm not sure Séacas didn't shoot the deer. Maybe he had another weapon...
- Come on, Séarrub, it's obvious! I can't believe it. That Roséan, who follows the rules without ever allowing the slightest step aside, broke the words of the Séalyar. Liars! I hate them, I hate them all! I'm going to go tell them what I think.
Taghna was seething. She got up, spilling a few pots in her haste, and walked towards the exterior. Understanding that she was going to return to Séaroën that very evening, Séarrub rushed in her footsteps:
- Taghna, come back! Don't go, please. You can't go at night, just like that!
- And why not? I don't have a problem with that, she answered angrily.
Her answer, proud and degrading, hurt Séarrub. Taghna felt guilty:
- Excuse me... But I can't keep this secret. Too many lives have gone to Muchach.
- And what do you want to do? Tell the séalyar? It won't bring them back, and you'd condemn the whole village. What would our elders do? Roséan wouldn't forgive himself either. He'd go into exile. You would only bring misfortune and pain. I beg you, Taghna, don't do this. Stay here.
Serrub's arguments dispelled the anger that clouded Taghna's judgment. The two women were standing outside. Taghna looked up at the sky, so clear and calm. After so much doubt and resentment, she finally had her chance to prove to her village that they were not perfect, and that they had caused the death of her friends and that it could've been avoided.
Yet her thoughts were very much of vengeance, and Séarrub was right. She would only cause more harm by exposing the truth. Taghna resigned herself. She felt so weary, lost and betrayed. She would have wanted to run, on and on, far to the south, where nothing and no one would betray beautiful and empty words, where her actions would not cause the death of anyone.
But she could not bring herself to leave. She had found a new village, new friends. She could help the muïréal.
- All right, I won't go. But I'm still going to tell Slavan.
And she turned around and disappeared into the cave.