Soft the Valley's Song
"There are better men than I to send to treat with spirits. My eyes are keen enough to spot a rabbit from across the brush on a darkened night, my arms strong enough to wrestle a boar to the ground. But I am no shaman, no speaker to play with words. I am a hunter. Yet that may be exactly why my god sent me.
"I was to meet the Wood King's messenger in a grove on the near side of the river, far enough from either of our master's demesnes to be neutral ground. Though the meeting was to be peaceful, my god warned me to take care against deception, so I took to arrive at our meeting early. I was not early enough.
"'Greetings, half-spirit,' came a rustling voice. 'Greetings,' the forest echoed after it. I twisted all around, but I could not see who had spoken against the turning leaves, so perfect was his camouflage. I could only feel him moving closer. 'You must be weary. Would you like to rest and share a meal?'
"'Share,' the forest said.
"I turned a slow circle, still looking for the speaker. 'I would, but my god has set for me a task, and I cannot rest until it is fulfilled.'
"The voice asked what my task was, and I held out the eagle stone in the palm of my hand. The tiny bead rattled inside the larger sphere of rough, hollow iron. I tightened my other hand around my jade staff and said 'to bring my god's token to the messenger of the Wood King.'
"That was when I saw the spider. He was closer to me than I thought - well inside the arc of my staff, but never too close for the sap-dripping thorns that passed as his venomous fangs. His body was a bundle of twigs as big as a cougar, a darker, autumn red against the turning leaves. I swallowed my fear and held my ground.
"'My lord's token,' the forest said, this time speaking before the spider. It stretched the two stout, flexible branches of his forelegs towards me and I saw that they held a short branch of juniper berries between them. 'And I have brought my lord's token in turn.'
"As soon as we had exchanged the tokens, I lost sight of the spider again. I did not stay longer, for him to whisper again that we should share a meal. I knew too well what the meal would have been.
-- Nine Eagle, shaman of the Grinning Tempest tribe of Hill People
