The elders gather; to the stones; all that remain of the Raven Clan.
The Shaman, bearing the Mother’s heartbeat, draws to the centre of the assembly; there to be joined by the Spinner, and the Weaver of Lore.
The Weaver kneels, offering a reverent hand skyward, readying himself to receive, and to support, the sacred, living, and breathing connection to the Creator.
Spirit of Deer. Spirit of Maple.
The drum-keeper, bows; surrendering his most hallowed charge, in trust, to the Weaver.
The Spinner stands in patient deference, awaiting the honour of Grandmother’s arm.
The drum-keeper, bows; surrendering his most hallowed charge, in trust, to the Spinner.
A contemplative pause. Respect the moment. Await the breath…
Grandmother speaks. The Circle turns. Silence. The Song of the Raven Clan; lost, long ago.