To the ground whence all things came

TW: sexual situations, violence, gender dynamics

If all went well, she would find a Mate tonight. There were only a few hills between her current position and the Mating Valley. If she made it there by the time the third sun set, she would be able to find a nice low, sheltered position. Once the Deluge started, the lower positions were always the most favorable. She would be ready.

---

The Deluge always came shortly after the last rays hit on the same day each year. Always the same, her mother told her, forever the same.

This was the mantra that mothers told their daughters to guard against the fear.

The fear was always the same too - that one year the Deluge would not come.

There was a myth, told by firesides for many generations, of a period in which the Deluge did not come. Where the land and the wombs had been dry and cold. The old had succumbed to Non-Bearing and the young had grown mature with fainter and fainter hope of a Mate. It was so told that one woman, and her faith, allowed the Deluge to return. In penance for her People, the woman had traveled to the East, bringing back a full pack of young Wanderers to foster, forsaking her Bearing years. The One honored her sacrifice. Thus did the Deluge return.

The story always seemed to imply that the People had somehow deserved the loss of the Deluge. She never believed that could be true. For what could anyone do that would be that awful?

---

She traveled low to the ground and looked both ways as she scurried beside the tall grasses. The hills were large and low and the grasses were wild and gold and wet. She sniffed at the sign of droppings by the roadside. Someone had brought a steed with them. This was, while not strictly forbidden, frowned upon. A steed could create confusion for the separation of the women and the scattering of the Mates.

Where could the steed go? she wondered. It could not roam free in the great Valley for fear of disrupting the Deluge. It would have nothing to eat and nothing to do. Nothing to be tied to. She wondered if someone of a higher caste had ridden the steed. Such vanity, her mother would say.

The way from her village was long. She had been traveling on the ground for three days. This was the ritual. You hugged the young of your hut and set out with waves and song. You tramped and you struggled and you wept. You told stories with others on the journey there. No steeds. No crutches.

Her hair had been woven with reeds from the nearby water place. Her skin had been marked with red from the ground and green from the leaves and purple from the fruits. She sat with the Elders.

And then the Song began.

The Song must begin in the huts and continue on the trail. The Song was long and spoke of rebirth and betrayal, of days gone by. It spoke of Mates long and of women fierce and proud. It spoke of the Deluge and the one day of the Mating. It spoke of the return of the Mates to the ground whence all things came. It spoke of the return of the women, steadfast and glorious, Bearing the will and the heat and the oneness that became the next generation.

She loved the Song, as she loved all the traditions of the Mating. Every year she had watched women going out on their quest over the hills, through the mountains, over the next hills and to the Valley. They came back with their Bearing and stories of the women they met, of the sky, of the storm, of the Deluge. Some would not survive the path back. The path back was treacherous. Those who failed to Mate at the Deluge had been known to waylay the Bearing and attack them. Rare, but it was known. Failure to Mate can drive the sanest woman mad, she had been told. And once Bearing, the path was a bit harder. You may be tired. You may scurry lower to the ground. You may need rest.

No one spoke much of the Mating itself. There was a secret to it. Those women who had already been to the Deluge before were to guide you. She should have been traveling with those who would teach her the ways of the Mating. But she was not.

She was alone.

Their village had, of late, lost some to the ground from floods and wild beasts. And some - young women - had disappeared.

Some were those with whom she had played when she was young. They had learned the ways of the Deluge at the feet of the same Elder Women. And then one day, they came no more to lessons.

They were gone.

Some believed that they had run away south, but she did not believe it. What was South? North was the way to the Deluge. What life was there to live away from the Deluge? What life was there to lead other than as a Bearing woman? No village would take them.

Her village was a small one. There were several huts in a circle dotted over a large field. This repeated 8 times in a wider circle. There was a center square for food preparation, young caring, and firesides. There was a Discussion Place where any events of note were had. There was the Bearing place where women went to have their young. There were other villages like theirs to the East and West of her village. But as far as she knew, the South became hotter and more dangerous. There were no villages there.

She had heard stories once, long ago, from a very old woman, Berety was her name, who lived in a small burrow near the edge of the field of their village. She was thin and long, hung low, and chattered when she spoke, as if laughing behind her words. She liked to tell scary stories to the young and then ply them with bark and beads to come back again. She too was alone. Her talks were more wild than the normal stories. She told of large beasts that roamed the far North. She spoke of the years when the Deluge did not come and what the people had done to deserve it. She called it the Cause.

The Cause of the years that the Deluge did not come, she said, came down to one woman. This woman she called Ginto. Ginto went to the Deluge along with her village women. She did the long march with no steed. She sang the songs. She suffered the same trials. But then came the Deluge and the Mating. And then, lost to some sickness of the mind, she had not seen fit to return her Mate to the ground whence all things came.

There were rules about this part of the Mating, of course. Deep and core and necessary rules. The first rules of Mating that any of the young learned: Mates must be returned to the ground whence all things came. Any Mate living past the day of the Deluge was a danger to all of the villages. A danger to All. Mates were not wise or able creatures, but they provided the seed of life. As such their lives were sacred. They must be protected from themselves. They must be returned to the ground.

Mates left past the day of the Deluge developed a fierce will and lost the health of their naturally calm minds. Their calm held from the Deluge until the third sunrise. Then they could become violent. They could even seem to speak and to want and to need. Symptoms of degeneration. It was not only necessary, but kind, to return them to the earth in time.

But, said Berety, Ginto did not do her duty and return the Mate to the ground. The Mate wandered off and later killed a young one. Ginto was punished. She returned to the ground before her time. Her young bore her shame as well and were denied Mates. While the lost Mate was never found, it was thought that he went to the South, into the wilds.

And, said the whispers in the village, that was where the young women of her village, the lost ones, had gone as well. The idea frightened her. And that they had deserted her to her first Deluge…she had felt anger toward them for a time. All the others of her village were too old or had young too new, or were not yet of woman age and could not join her. And thus she was alone.

---

Alone wasn’t all unfortunate, she discovered. It gave her time to think and prepare herself. She decided that before the Deluge began she could find another woman to explain things to her.

She traversed the land for several more hours. Finally she was on the slope of the last hill, heading down into the valley.

The air was crisp and biting. The sky was a deep blue-gray with large rolling black clouds all along the horizon, moving toward the valley.

They were coming.

She came down the last rise and saw the other women. Already in their spots and their little caves. Already taking up most of the prime space toward the edges – in the low spaces. She wandered around the edges of the valley looking for a spot that she could claim. Finally, she found a small dip in the ground to her right and a low outcropping of rock right above. There was a small indentation that was not quite a cave but would serve. The ground dipped down into the spot and would allow for the best collection possible. This would be her Hollow.

There was a Hollow to her right that was occupied, maybe several steed lengths away, but not too far. She lay her belongings down in her little area to mark it and scampered over to find the other woman.

“Good Deluge,” she said.

“And to you,” the older woman replied.

“I would like to request a small advice on the Mating. I did not have any come from the village with me and the last pieces were not relayed to me.”

“Not by your mother?” the older woman asked.

“Not by my mother or my mother’s mother,” she replied.

“Very well,” the woman said. “Sit.”

The younger woman gathered herself under herself and sat. The older woman had a very nice spot. Somewhat higher ground but broader and more shielded from others by the undergrowth.

“What do you want to know?” the older woman asked.

“When the Deluge comes, how will I know my mate?”

“Your mate will find you. He will fall closest to you and you will collect him. Know that this is the choice that the One has given you. There is no reasoning, there is only giving,” the older woman replied. “You will wait, and the Mate will be given to you. Then the Mating will commence. “

“I have not been told about the Mating,” the younger woman said guardedly. “Not…all.”

“There is nothing to tell,” said the older woman. “Your mother should have at least told you that: there is nothing to tell.”

“Nothing to tell?”

“The Mate knows. You, only in this, follow.”

“When will I know when it is done?” the younger woman asked.

“You will know.”

“And returning him to the ground?”

“You will know.”

The older woman reached for the younger woman and examined her.

“You have the Imbedder and it is healthy and sharp. The place of the Imbedding is clearly marked at the back of his head. When the Mating is over, the Mate will sleep. Place the Imbedder in this spot and you will have completed your work. Merely leave what is left in your Hollow and begin the journey back.”

The older woman let go of her.

“Thank you for sharing your wisdom,” the younger woman said.

“What is your name?” the older woman asked.

“Salise,” the younger woman replied.

“Many blessings and good Deluge,” the older woman said nodding.

She did not offer her name and Salise did not ask.

---

Salise went back to her Hollow and waited. And waited.

The dark clouds came closer and closer. Then they were covering the entire sky. Around her, women stood up out of their Hollows and raised their faces and their selves up to the sky, waiting, hoping, praying. Salise stood as well and took the position.

There was a thundering, directly above, and then a sound as of a deep CCRRRAAAACK. 

Then the Deluge began.

Descending horizontally as if riding on the wind, the Mates came down. They did not fall as a rock would fall. Instead they drifted slowly and gracefully, first in large clumps and masses, like berries thick on the undergrowth. Then spread apart.

Then they were on the ground.

One was near. He was at her Hollow. He was hers.

He seemed in a trance. He was dark and long. He was not what she had expected.

There were no renderings of Mates anywhere in her village. Such pictures were offensive. Her mother did describe the Mates to her as lower and more basic versions of women, with singular tasks and low mental abilities. “They do not think or act like you,” her mother said. “They may look like you, but that is to help with the mating. The more similar the better, the One decreed. But remember, they are not the same. Enjoy the Mate, and be glad that you have helped it fulfill its purpose."

Salise believed her mother. And she remembered the advice of the older woman.

And so - she let him lead.

---

The Mating took longer than expected, but there was no pain. The Mate seemed to enjoy it. He had a serene expression on his face during the entirety. He was now asleep. He was in a prime position in her Hollow, face down.

She located the Inputting place on the back of his neck as he slept. It was outlined in red. This will be easy, she thought.

The Mate stirred and then rolled over, face up. He rose.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

He spoke! They did not speak, or so she had been told. Not unless…

“You should lay back down,” she said, her voice breaking slightly. A sense of sickness touched her. “Sleep. It is almost time for return.”

“Return?” he asked. “Where am I?”

Salise felt nervousness and fear – and anger. After all her work, her faithfulness, why would the One give her the burden of a defective Mate? She closed her eyes as if willing him gone. She turned to face the entrance to the Hollow. Opening her eyes again, she looked across the dark valley. She heard murmurings around her but no other voices.

Salise turned back to the Mate. She gathered herself under herself and sat. She looked at the Mate. She tried to remove the fear from her voice.

“You should not be awake,” she said. “Lay back down and try to rest.” If only he would roll over again, she thought.

He moved closer to her.

“I am Charlin. Tell me, why am I here?”

This will be something to tell my young, she thought.

“I’m sorry, but you are unwell,” she replied, her voice steady now. “You have no name.”

“I am Charlin.” He repeated. “I come from a place that is colder than here. We…” He stopped and looked into the dark of the Valley. “I…”

He stopped again. “I don’t remember anything else. Just the cold. The whiteness and the cold. It was cold where I was and blank and white and bright and…I am Charlin…I am here. Who are you? What is this place? Why am I here? What are you doing? What are you doing? What are you doing? Doing? Doing? Doing?”

Louder. Louder. Louder.

Then she was on top of him and grappling him to the bare ground. The dry earth moved and fluffed up around them. She rolled him over as he wailed. She placed her main mass near his neck. She almost had him. He started to wriggle out of her grasp.

“Doing? Doing? Doing?” he shrieked.

Other woman had come to the edge of Her Hollow. They watched, their expressions blank.

“Help me!” she yelled. Not one of them moved.

She jumped up and then down, shifting her weight again and pinning down the Mate’s lower mass with an appendage. She was on him again, his neck in reach once more.

“No! No! No!” he wailed.

She had the Imbedder. She lined it up and plunged it quickly and fiercely into the circle of red on the back of his neck. She rolled off him.

Scurrying to the edge of the Hollow, she watched as the Mate melted slowly into a viscous and colorless gel. His darkness, his eyes, the offending mouth, all slowly stretched and sank and dissolved - and were gone.

He did not speak again.

Salise turned to see the other women moving away, back to their Hollows.

Would they have done what needed doing had she failed? Another question for her mother. She now had so many.

She saw the first sun begin to rise, the rays playing on the horizon and lapping at the valley. She gathered herself up to make the journey back.

----

The older woman who had counseled her the night before found her as she was leaving the valley.

“I heard you last night,” she said.

“Why did you not help me?” Salise asked.

“Because,” the woman said, “He was your mate.”

Yes, thought Salise. He was.