15. Chickweed and Firelight

CASCADE

CHAPTER 15

Cascade's mother had filled his larder with dried food, meat, and many jars of her summer wine while they'd trained. She'd even started a small fire. He smiled appreciatively as their little group finally hobbled out of the dark and into the warmth of his cave and he witnessed her generosity and care. As a boy, he'd always been well fed and loved—and his mother had never stopped doting on him, even after he'd outgrown the need for such comforts.

"This is where you live? At least it doesn't stink of piss in here like it does in your uncle's cave," Aiel said from behind him.

He laughed.

"No, and I'd prefer we keep it that way," Cascade replied. "Go outside when you need to. And if you choose to run, know I won't stop you. But Harlak will have you hunted and killed, and it is unlikely you'd be able to find your way home from here. I'd like to call a truce, if you'll allow it."

"Fine. Truce. For now," Aiel grumbled.

He extended his hand to her. She stared at it blankly.

"If you mean your words, you'll swear them to me on the spirits of your ancestors and take my hand to prove it," Cascade said.

"And what does your dirty hand have to do with any of that? I swear by my ancestors. I wouldn't leave Entin or the others with you lot, anyway. And if your spooky ‘Wolves' are as fearsome as you claim—which I doubt—then you'll need me here. Gods know you were bested by a woman today. Some warriors you turned out to be," Aiel said scathingly.

He withdrew his hand and nodded at her.

"In Mountainhome, Aiel, some of the most fearsome hunters and warriors have always been women. I suggest you consider there are elements of my people's customs that might appeal to you if you open your mind to them."

She merely scowled. However, he noticed she did become quiet and seemed to actually reflect on his words. Entin, beyond her, was looking at Cascade the way Cascade had seen others look to his father as a boy—as though he had all the patience and answers in the universe. But he knew that wasn't true, and he hardly felt he deserved any admiration at all for any of this. The weight of that regard and its burden felt too much—even for him—and he looked away.

"There are just people here. We care about who you are and what you do for the tribe, not what you do with your privates or what you call yourself. Your traditional ways were ours once, and it limited us more than we knew," T'reer informed them.

"Aye," Sivek agreed. "I'd much rather it this way. No offense to all of you, but I'd just as well not limit my options when it comes to who I fuck. Some days I like meat. Some days I like berries."

"When the Wolves shattered us and drove us from the sea, the few that remained rebuilt our tribe with the scraps that survived," Cascade explained. "We wouldn't exist if we'd remained stuck in the past. The old rules fell away. And we arose anew. Stronger. United. Equal."

"And what of your uncle?" Aiel countered. "Where are your laws for him? Where is your ‘order' when you rip others from their homes and force them to fight your wars? You could have just asked us to join you."

"When you see what we are up against, you'll understand. As for my uncle—it's like I said before, I will bring justice to him myself when the time is right."

"And he'll have the might of the tribe at his back when he does," T'reer said.

"Enough of this. Let's drink," Sivek declared.

"Seconded," T'reer agreed.

"Entin, Aiel, can you two collect some more wood outside while I get dinner set up?" Cascade asked.

"Yeah, of course," Entin said.

"And you two, perhaps you accompany them, just in case my uncle is stupider than he seems," Cascade suggested, gesturing to the other two trainees.

"We can," one of them agreed.

"That's settled then. When you return, we'll have meat and wine waiting," Cascade finished.

Entin gave him an uncertain look but followed the others outside.

Silence pooled out between the three that remained in the cave. Sivek carefully picked up one of the jars of wine and removed the lid. Each fragile clay vessel took weeks to cure. Cascade had made—and broken—his share of the things in his lifetime. He wasn't sure if this particular jar was one he'd made or not. The clay container was a grayish brown. His tribe gathered the material from the muddy shorelines of mountain streams, then pounded it into sheets they then formed into pots. Some were cured slowly, left to dry in the sun, while others were placed near the roaring flames of the Great Fire to take on a more brittle but beautiful exterior. Cascade carefully handed the wine to Sivek.

He took a hearty swig, then passed the vessel to his brother.

"Whew!" Sivek whistled.

T'reer took a sip of his own.

"She's still got it!" T'reer smacked.

Cascade forced a smile, then indulged in some liquid courage himself. It felt necessary to form the words he knew he must speak next.

"Things will begin to move swiftly now. I've decided to advance on Harlak after the trainees have finished their Journey. Help me earn their trust. Be good to them. Some might even stick around when this is over if we're lucky. The night we all return, after the celebration of the Journey, I will finish this."

"And in the weeks between now and then?" Sivek asked uneasily.

"We lay low. We train the others. And we do what Father would have wanted for the tribe," Cascade replied.

"I think we'll need more of that wine…" T'reer grinned.

"Help yourselves. What's mine has always been yours."

Cascade handed each of them a jar, and then the three sat around his fire and waited for their trainees to return.

By the time they did, the three men were well on their way to drunk. Entin, Aiel, and the two red-haired men came in with armfuls of sticks as the wine jar made its latest round.

"The heroes return!" T'reer slurred.

"Wasn't certain they would, if I'm honest," Sivek followed.

"Thank you. Please, help yourselves to what's here," Cascade offered.

The food and wine his mother had brought them was arrayed before his fire. Meat, fruits, and some of the hickory nuts his tribe would be collecting now with the coming of fall. He noticed that in addition to what he had to offer, Entin had returned with various mushrooms and an enormous quantity of a delicate green plant.

"What do you have there, Entin?" Cascade asked.

Entin grinned. "Chickweed." He balled up a handful of the vine and popped it in his mouth.

"I'll try some," T'reer said.

"Me too," Sivek added.

Entin handed them some, and the pair chewed on it appreciatively.

"Okay, that's better than I expected," T'reer said.

"Agreed!" Sivek said.

"These fools don't even know what chickweed is," Aiel scoffed.

Cascade merely chuckled and handed her some wine. She looked into the vessel and sniffed at it suspiciously.

"I had some this morning; go ahead, it's safe," Entin said.

She took a sip. At first, Cascade thought she hated it. Her eyes squinted, her lips puckered, she swished it around… and finally she swallowed. A moment passed. And then Aiel grinned and took a more eager drink that went on for so long it was almost rude.

"Easy with that. It will go straight to your head," Cascade said at last.

He gently pulled the jar from her lips and passed it to one of the gingers.

Aiel burped. "That's exactly what I'm hoping for."

She plopped to the ground and began to wolf into the meat he'd set out. Cascade watched her momentarily, then shrugged and looked at Entin and the others.

"For the next while, we'll all sleep in here. It'll be safer that way. There are a bunch of boughs and furs in the rear for you to make your bedding with. Tomorrow morning, we will bathe in the falls to clear our scent, and then we will pair off and go on our first hunt as a tribe. I know some of you have never hunted before. As part of the Journey, you must return tomorrow evening to Main Cave with something of worth to prove your value to the tribe. But tonight? Tonight we drink. Welcome to Mountainhome. May we bring honor to our ancestors," Cascade cheered.

"Hear hear!" T'reer and Sivek said in unison.

Cascade handed Entin some wine in exchange for a bit of chickweed. The firelight twinkling back at him in Entin's deep, dark eyes made his heart race. He ate the plant gratefully, appreciating its nutty, grassy flavor. Then he watched as Entin imbibed on his mother's wine.

The rest of the night was spent in the flickering light of the cave. The sparks of the fire and the sweetness of the wine did their part to convince him that, for a moment, the world was a kinder, warmer place than he knew it to be. After a while, he finally felt at ease. Despite Aiel's constant scrutiny, he wrapped his arm around Entin's shoulder. To his satisfaction, Entin leaned in this time instead of pulling away.

T'reer winked at him from across the flames, and all Cascade could do was grin back stupidly. His feelings for Entin were blossoming like the springtime, and with the wine coursing through him, it took every ounce of self-control not to indulge his carnal appetites.

Despite everything that had happened recently, this was a night Cascade would always treasure. He was surprised that despite his recent loss, he felt comfort and even a dulled sense of happiness in his current company. Maybe it was nascent hope that fueled it. Or perhaps the chickweed, like Entin's mushrooms, possessed mind-altering magic. But he felt he knew the explanation was far more straightforward: he was falling in love.