Ó Leannáin

The moonlight drifted pleasantly through a gap in the autumn clouds. Breathing in, you would taste rain and smell the delight of the refreshed grass and mud. Niamh shivered, not because of the cold, but from the excitement that came from knowing that after tonight she would be an adult. She couldn’t help the foolish smile that spread across her face. Her boots sank softly into the mud till she reached where the road became divided into three parts. It had gotten so deep that no carriages could safely be pulled through. 

Her skin tingled with the touch of Spring Squill and Aster that carried itself on the wind. Her boots pushed in three inches as she launched herself from one side of the road to the other. She used the momentum she had built up to dance from section to section. The first ten feet the road's parts stayed mostly intact, but after the lone Hawthorn tree, which marked the west edge of town, they all began to crumble into sectioned towers of earth. She danced over them like one would rocks that peak out of a river bed. Her long blond hair followed like a comet's trail, shimmering between the shadows, the moonlight, and the in between of the clouds. If anyone could see her they would have been struck in awe, but there was no one else, so she had to be in awe of herself. 

The gap between the last mound and the road leading to her family's home, that daintily rested along the ledge of the sea cliffs, was about nine feet wide. There is only one way across. Exhaling, she threw herself forwards letting the air hold her as her body extended. She clawed at the cold night as the heat from her breath surrounded her — a mystifying haze that made the moonlight even brighter. Time after time, she had attempted this jump, only to contribute to its erosion. The first time was when she was six and the gap had been just her age in distance. By fifteen she had worn the gap two more feet. 

Her younger sibling asked why she didn’t just fill in the gap to bring it back to its original size. They didn’t get it. Each time she had jumped and fallen short, she was not failing, she was just moving closer. The ledge moved closer, closer than it ever had. Her feet hit the ground and she rolled forward, covering her gray knit coat in the silt soaked mud, and laughed. She howled to the hemlock tree and flower bushes that she had left behind. The moon, her only witness, faded once again behind the cloud cover. She brushed herself off as well as she could and headed towards her home.  

Áine, Niamh’s mother, was pulling a fresh loaf of soda bread from the oven when Niamh came through the door. The house was a combination of stacked stone, wood, and thatch that welcomed the warmth of the oven. 

“Oh damn it Niamh, what did you do to your coat?” 

“I did it mum-”

“You ruined it- that’s what you did.” 

“No, mum I-”

“You ruined it!” Bláthnat playfully mimicked their mother.

“Yeah Niamh! Damn it!” Aodh, her youngest and only brother, shouted.

The two escalated into song and laughter, “Yeah! Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!” 

Áine sighed and went to grab a rag, and soaked it in the sink. Niamh wiggled the coat off over her head and plopped it onto the drying rack next to the wood stove. Her father, Ler, sat at the table sipping a cup of tea. 

“Are you ready for your Turning Ceremony tonight?”  

She turned to Ler and felt her heart beating against her ribs, “Yes.”

“Then go clean your face and grab a new coat, we leave when the moon is just past 45 degrees. I’d say you’ll have just enough time for a slice and some soup.” 

Niamh hardly tasted the chicken broth soup and buttered bread. Nor did she feel the cold of the water as she splashed it on her face. This is it, this is the last time I wash and eat as a girl. Soon she would be grown, that's what happens in the woods: growth. She grabbed a new coat, a soft golden wool almost the same shade as her own hair, and headed out the door.  

The rain had started by the time Niamh and her parents headed towards the meeting mound. Ler and Áine carried a trunk between themselves, leading the way through the exposed roots and thriving brambles. Niamh followed behind holding a lantern in front of her. They headed west about a mile and then north half a mile more. The mound stood in the center of a small valley that lay between the forest and the mountains. 

Walking down to it from the tree line, the burial mounds looked like speckled hills. Heading to the center, Niamh’s lantern light caught on the occasional exposed rock that grass had not grown over on the younger burials. She was feeling the rain through her gold coat and her breath kept fogging up her vision causing her to trip over herself. Finally they reached the central mound where six obscured figures stood waiting. 

“The Ó Leannáin’s have arrived!” A deep surly voice came out of the figure on the center left. It was unmistakable as Sétanta Conroy, the town's most successful cattle and truffle farmer, and her choir teacher. Niamh had joined after she had seen his keening for his late father. He said it was the only way to truly embrace his grief and release it. What he was doing here tonight was beyond her. “Aífe! Why don’t you take Niamh to the cave and get her ready.” 

“Um- yes- right!” Aífe Conroy who stood furthest to the right stepped forwards. She stood almost a head taller than Niamh, but had gone through her Turning Ceremony just a week earlier.  

“Don’t forget the chest now.”

“Right!” Aífe walked up to Ler and Áine and took one end of the dark brown chest.

“Well help her out Niamh,” Sétanta chided. “We don’t have all night.”

Niamh went to the other side of the chest and took the handle. It pulled her shoulder down with its unexpected weight. Then they started towards the mountains. 

"Signal us when we can proceed with the Turning.” Sétanta shouted after them.

They walked in silence for a little while. Niamh looked over towards Aífe, catching only small glimpses of her rounded tan cheeks and nose. 

When Niamh had seen Aífe the day after her Turning Ceremony, she noticed Aífe walked lighter and more confidently. Aífe was a shy and bookish girl, and that had not quite changed, but this past week it was like everyone had become more drawn to her, more curious. Niamh had watched her turn down three boys and one man in two days. 

“What did they tell you?” 

“Oh- uh that this is how we step into adulthood in our family.”

“That’s it?” Aífe’s voice sounded as cold as the rain.

“Yeah, I mean they said the ceremony is meant to be an experience, not a test.”

“Well it is definitely… an experience.” Her pause sat poorly in Niamh’s chest. She was starting to shiver and her clothes were becoming heavy. They made their way to a cave in the mountain ledge. It glowed with torch fire and a small pit acted as a hearth, bringing a much needed warmth to her hands. They placed the chest down close to the pit and Niamh stood still watching the shadows dance on the wall.  

“Take off your cape and clothes and change into these,” Aífe unlocked the chest revealing a saffron dyed Leine and a fur coat. 

“What are these for?”

“They are for you dummy, now can you put them on we don’t have a lot of time.” She stuck out her hand and Niamh handed over her coat and pants. When she went to remove her top, Aífe turned around and clumsily placed the clothes by the fire while clearing her throat. Niamh became suddenly aware of her body and Aífe’s presence. Her cheeks grew red, she had not planned on being naked in a cave with her choir teacher's daughter. How could anyone plan for this?

“What can you tell me about the Turning Ceremony?” The words escaped her in a desperate attempt to move past the silence. 

“What do you want to know?”

“What did you know? Going into it, I mean.”

She shifted around on her feet, keeping her back towards Niamh, “Not much, only what my cousins told me.”

“Well anything would be appreciated.”

Aífe sighed, “Muirne said it was the first time she had felt like herself.”

“What about Sadb? They’re twins right?”

“Yeah, Sadb… just started laughing and left the house.” 

“Oh- uh what about you. How do you feel?”

“Me?” She laughed.

Niamh put on the dry saffron Liene herself and reached into the chest for the fur cape. It was heavy, but incredibly soft. Placing it on her shoulders she went to fasten it and found the button was a preserved wolf's claw. She hooked the leather around it and ran her hands over the edge. Aífe hadn’t looked away from the fire, so it was Niamh’s turn to clear her throat. Aífe jumped and spun around, the light catching her eyes just long enough to see them reflecting in the dark. 

Niamh blinked a few times, but the moment had passed and now Aífe looked as she had always looked, or at least that’s what she was telling herself. Aífe approached her so swiftly Niamh couldn’t help but flinch. Aífe smiled and gently pulled Niamhs hair free from under the cape. 

“One last thing.” She reached into her hunter green coat's inner pocket and pulled out a small container with packed charcoal and mica. It sparkled and danced in the fire light. 

“What’s this for?”

“It’s for looking cool.”

Niamh laughed, “Then please take your time.”

Aífe laughed too, her cheeks still as red as her hair, she smelled like fresh spring. Niamh tried not to move as Aífe put the dancing dust on her eyes. Her fingers softly landed in small pitter patters on her face. 

“I saw you earlier by the road.”

“What? When?”

“Just after dusk, by the last Hemlock tree.” Niamh felt her cheeks burn, she had never had issues with being easily flustered. It must be the fire, she thought to herself. 

“You saw?”

“You jumped the road gap, it was pretty amazing.”

Niamh couldn't help her excitement, “Thank you, I had never made it before.”

A sharp breath leaves Niamh as Aífe moves her hands away. She opened her eyes and saw a smile across Aífe’s face, “Well it was really cool.” Niamh smiled and bit her lower lip as if trying to pull her happiness back inside of her.

“We have to signal now, it’s time.” Aífe steps towards the edge of the cave and cups her hands over her mouth, then quickly turns around to look at Niamh. “Just let yourself feel, alright?”

“O-okay.”

Aífe turned back towards the mounds and let out a howl. It carried harmoniously through the rain drops and bounced through the graves. Then a collection of howls return to them. It is only a minute or so before Niamh’s family and the Conroy's arrived at the cave entrance. They all lined up from eldest to youngest with Aífe standing directly in front of her and Scáthach, Aífe’s mother, standing at the front. They walked for a short while through the cave, passing all the torches till all that was left was the small light of the lantern being held by Scáthach. After about three minutes in the near darkness, they arrived at a part of the cave where the ceiling was opened up wide enough to catch the light from the moon that was taking its place in the center of the sky. 

The rain had stopped and the clouds had parted knowingly. Each person took turns going right or left around the circular chamber. When it was her turn, her bones took over and brought her towards the centered edge of the circle of light that was cast down. Scáthach stood across from her, towering even taller than her daughter. 

“Niamh Ó Leannáin, daughter of Ler Ó Díomasaigh and Áine Ó Leannáin. Tonight you are brought into the light as a guardian of the land. As a guardian of our greatest strength and deepest secret. Our ancestors walked the edges of our world and the other, and now you shall too. Step forward into the moonlight, into your pack, and into your truest self”

Niamh listened and brought herself into the moonlight. Her heart was racing, jumping, pulling her forwards. Her body felt wrong, small, and weak. Her lungs couldn't hold the right amount of air and she was gasping.

“The change is waiting— do you allow it?”

She strained her voice, looking up at the full moon whose closeness threatened to crush her, “Yes.” 

“It begins!” Scáthach raised her head and began to howl. One by one each person raised their head to join, until the cavern was full of one united song.

Niamh could only look up as the sound swirled around her like a storm. Her legs ached and cracked, causing her to fall to her knees. Her hands stretched and clenched on their own, over and over again as her nails were shoved out by black claws. Still, she looked to the moon and released her own screaming howl that came from some deep part of her soul, that pushed her spine back and back into a tail. She dug her claws into the ground below her as fur burst from her skin. Her ears shifted up and she could hear the nuanced tones of each individual howl. Her father's anxiety, her mothers hope, Sétanta’s impatiences, Scáthach’s certainty, Muirne’s excitement, Sadb’s hesitance, their father, Cain's loneliness, and Aífe’s admiration. 

Just let yourself feel. The words filled her howl with grief and anger, how had no one told me it would be like this? Then betrayal followed, what even am I? Her eyes became reflective and the night grew brighter, she could see the small marks that make up the craters on the moon's surface. The howling wind began to die down, and as it did, she lowered her head. She blinked a few times as her pack stepped forward to join her in the light. Everyone of them had become like her, or rather she had become like them. Her cape and wool coat were now replaced with radiant golden fur. When she stood to turn she stumbled over herself. Aífe appeared by her side, letting her fall against her auburn coat. Even as a wolf she stood higher than Niamh, though not as noticeably. 

Stabilizing herself on her four feet, she practiced lifting each one, trying to get a feel for her new body. With more confidence she stepped forward, Aífe staying close behind her. Then after one more look around the cavern, she began to run. Slowly she built speed, benefiting from the cave's solid floors. She ran past the torches and the hearth where her wet clothes still lay drying, and out into the valley of burial mounds. She did not need her lantern to see which mounds were old and new, now she could smell the age of the dirt and bones and see clearly the stones that jutted from their basins. She ran a lap around the central mound, howling as she did. Her pack was close behind her, but despite her body being new, she remained in a steady lead. 

She broke through the tree line and headed south, then east towards the lone hawthorn tree. She heard howls of concern and growls with promises of future discipline. She let out a grunting laughter and Aífe yipped in response, pulling up beside her, seemingly knowing where Niamh was leading them. They leaped over brambles, branches, and roots. The distance they had traveled was finished in mere minutes, until they appeared on the road at the edge of town. She charged as she had with two legs, but moving now with a certainty they had never allowed her. Rhythmically, Aífe and her paws hit the ground sounding like war drums for a large army. Behind them still was their pack, who had hesitated when the road had appeared, but now followed faithfully. Her mother Áine and father howled like trumpets adding to her fanfare. 

The road gaps appeared and neither of them hesitated as they threw themselves across from the edge of the road, not even bothering to use the final two towers to shorten the distance. Together, their gold and auburn fur caught the unobstructed moonlight, beyond the shadows and the clouds. Their breath left their maw, making them appear almost as spirits to all who were watching. They hit the ground simultaneously, running forward and then around to see if their pack was still behind them. On the other end of the road their families stood in a shocked silence, then Sadb began to wag her tail and Muirne followed. Soon all of them were yapping and howling, in awe of her, of them. She looked at Aífe and joined in the celebration. Nothing was ever going to be the same, but why would anyone want it to be?