In the healer's tent, the air hung thick with the scent of healing herbs and smoldering sage, the soft glow of lanterns casting flickering shadows on the woven walls. Sahari lay on a pallet of soft furs, her ebony skin glistening faintly under a light blanket, chest rising and falling in steady rhythm as the paste worked its magic on her scars. The tribe had gathered in a loose circle around her—Chief Many Horses at the center, his broad frame steady as an ancient oak; Mohova beside him, her green-tattooed arms folded with quiet authority; Taniel standing close to Maria, his seven-foot form still humming with the afterglow of his shift, muscles taut under his sweat-dampened tunic. Maria's family clustered nearby: Elias wiping his hands on his apron, Clara with a knowing smile, the younger siblings peeking curiously from the edges.
Taniel cleared his throat, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder. 'The spirits walk with us, Maria—your family. They've chosen this land, this people, for a reason.' He met her emerald eyes, his own dark gaze warm but intense. 'My werehorse spirit... it's a gift from the ancestors. When the moon calls or danger rises, I shift—stronger, faster, built to protect the herd.'
Maria nodded slowly, her freckled cheeks flushing as she glanced at Sahari's still form. Elias leaned forward, brow furrowed in fascination. 'Like the old tales? Animal forms?'
Many Horses chuckled, a deep bellow that shook his chest. 'More than tales, woodworker. The men of our line bond with beasts—horses for speed across the plains, wolves for the hunt's cunning, bears for raw might. Taniel's horse spirit makes him a leader, a breeder of strong foals.' He clapped his son on the back, the impact solid but affectionate, making Taniel's wild hair sway.
Mohova stepped in, her voice smooth as river stones. 'But the women? We forge contracts with the elements themselves. I walk with the plants—they heed my call, vines rising to strike, roots to heal.' She flexed her fingers, and a small tendril of ivy uncurled from a nearby pot, twisting lazily before retreating. 'My sister-wives share the wind's whisper—one summons gales to scatter foes, the other bends water to soothe or drown.' Their eyes drifted to Sahari, her white tattoos stark against her skin even in repose. 'And this one... the spirits mark her as a water guide. Her power runs deep, like hidden springs. She'll mend wounds with a touch, call floods in battle if the need arises.'
Maria bit her lip, her bare toes curling into the dirt floor, red curls falling forward as she gathered courage. 'If... if I married Taniel, would I learn this too? A contract, like hers?'
The tent fell quiet, all eyes on her. Mohova's smile widened, genuine and fierce. 'Yes, child. You'd train under me, under the elders—find your element, bind it to your soul with Taniel as your tether. But heed this: once the contract seals, it's eternal. Break it, stray from the bond, and the spirits curse you—withering strength, endless thirst, shadows that chase your dreams. Loyalty is the price of power.'
Maria's gaze flicked to Taniel, then back to Mohova. She straightened, voice soft but sure. 'I'd support him that way. Stand with the herd, spirits or no.'
A cheer erupted from the tribe—hunters pounding fists on knees, women ululating softly, children giggling from the doorway. 'A young spirit user!' one elder called. 'The gods favor us—the tribe grows unbreakable!'
Many Horses gripped Taniel's shoulder again, pride gleaming in his eyes. 'You've found a fine mare, son. True heart, strong blood.' He leaned in, voice dropping to a teasing growl. 'Work on filling her with foals—at least four, to honor the line. Look at her siblings; the seed runs deep in her family.'
Taniel's cheeks burned under his bronzed skin, a rare blush creeping up his neck as Mohova nodded sagely. 'He's right. Build the herd strong—your werehorse needs it.'
Clara, ever the spark, leaned over to Maria, her whisper carrying just loud enough. 'Don't fret, love. I can share tricks on keeping things lively with Taniel, even when your belly swells. A man's touch doesn't fade with a babe kicking inside.'
Maria's face ignited crimson, freckles vanishing under the heat as she buried her head against Taniel's arm. Laughter rippled through the group—Elias chuckling warmly, Samuel and Thomas snickering, even the healers joining in with knowing grins. Taniel pulled her closer, his large hand squeezing her shoulder, the contact grounding her amid the mirth.
As the chuckles faded, Mohova continued, her tone shifting to solemn instruction. 'The spirit ritual binds it all—for the women only, under the full moon's gaze. Your husband stands as tether, his spirit anchoring yours while you drink the sacred waters, chant the old words. Pain comes first, like birthing a storm, then power floods in—visions, strength, a piece of the wild in your veins.' She glanced at the circle. 'We'll do the same for future wives, each adding to the herd's weave. No jealousy, only unity—the spirits demand it.'
The explanations wove on, voices overlapping in tales of past contracts: a wind-wife summoning tempests to drive off raiders, a plant-healer mending a broken leg mid-hunt. Maria listened rapt, her hand finding Taniel's, fingers intertwining as the family's questions flowed—Elias on the men's shifts, Clara on the rituals' intimacy.
Then, a soft rustle from the pallet. Sahari stirred, her body arching slightly under the blanket, limbs tensing as if pulled by invisible currents. The air in the tent thickened, a faint mist coiling from her skin, drawn to the spirit-rich aura saturating the space. Her tattoos shimmered blue once more, then dimmed, her full lips parting in a quiet sigh. But her eyes remained closed, lashes fluttering against her cheeks—body knitting itself whole, scars fading to silvery lines, bruises blooming into healing pinks. Her mind, though, clung to slumber, exhaustion from chains and flight demanding more time.
Mohova knelt beside her, pressing a cool cloth to her forehead. 'She mends fast—water spirits at work. When she wakes, we'll welcome her proper: a name-giving, a share in the circle. A powerful user like her? She'll thrive here, tether to none yet, but the herd calls.'
Taniel watched Sahari, his musk subtly flaring in response to her latent power, a primal recognition stirring. Maria squeezed his hand tighter, her shy smile promising the path ahead—contracts, foals, a tribe woven stronger by spirits and bonds.