Bringing in Matope's spring!
(on winter)Winter, as all the kin know, lives in the far northern reaches where it is said it snows all year round and the sun and the moon dance in their yearly war for dominance of the sky. There Winter rules over the land, beautiful but capricious. When she tosses her head, snow drifts form. When she stamps her hoof, cold winds swirl around her. She is a fierce ruler, and seldom fair. Those who live in Winter's lands both love and fear her.
In appearance she is a white doe, young and at the same time very old, and her mane, white and shimmering like a frozen waterfall, nearly reaches the ground. Her hide is brilliant white and unmarred, her horns forked-- bearing hoarfrost or icicles during fairer weather, and in the deep winter are completely encased in rime. In some accounts she is able to take the forms of various animals, in others she has the ability to dissipate into a breath of fog, or form herself out of banks of snow.
(winter's approach)When the days grow short, a bitter wind brings Winter down from her lands into those of the kin. It is said that even Winter tires of her icy demesne. The wind brings storms into her land and she seeks shelter in the gentler climates, the swamps and plains. When she arrives, all the kin know her and bear witness to her ways. She is fickle. One day she is beautiful and playful as a foxbun, decorating the ground with frost and hanging icicles from branches. The next she is silent and graceful, snow falling like dust from a moth's wings. On others, she can be as cold and deadly as a caiman, swiftly killing plant and animal alike with a sudden freeze.
(dealing with winter)It is important not to give Winter any reason to stay beyond her normal visit. Winter is always hungry, and food left where she may come upon it can entice her to linger. It is advised that edibles be stored underground during her stay, not just hidden away in a hollow tree and especially not left out in the open. A token offering to calm her is fine, but any more then a mouthful could make her hard to drive out.
Her favorite food is traditionally fruit, a treat which she cannot get in her home lands. Fruit which grows in warm climates is especially coveted. It is said even the lowliest can bargain with Winter if they have enough.
(casting out winter)Long ago, Winter made a deal with the kin. When the moon is just right, and the stars are in the proper position, an attempt can begin to drive Winter back to her lands. The first attempt traditionally falls on the day after the solstice; however, if that attempt fails, or Winter seems particularly stubborn, subsequent attempts may be made.
To cast Winter out, she must first be offered a traditional sacrifice of fruit. Fresh is ideal, but preserved is often used if it is not available. It is usually set out on a flat stone or fallen log in a conspicuous place, like the top of a small hill. The arrangement of the offering can often get quite intricate and artistic (in order to more quickly catch Winter’s fancy) and may take a day or more to prepare. This is a very social event, with many kin pitching in and helping with the preparation.
The next part, the ousting, is a social event in a different way. Everyone lines up abreast of each other, just south of the offering, facing north towards it. It is customary to try and hide or otherwise be inconspicuous until the offering is accepted. When finally Winter takes the fruit (this may be represented with an actual kimeti or just assumed to have happened), a signal is given and the kin leap out, shouting and kicking, to drive her away. A chase then follows, with Winter ahead being driven north by a solid line of kimeti, sometimes hundreds. Strategically placed drummers are sometimes employed, pounding hollow logs with their hooves to produce a unmistakable sound that can be heard for miles.
Once Winter is driven as far north as the group can run, a more northerly group takes over the chase after making their own sacrifice, forming a chain of events spanning the known lands. After each part of the chain is finished with their run, they generally settle in to feast and socialize, representing the end of the lean times. And thus Winter is driven all the way from the far south to the northern edge of the lands the kin call home, and Spring begins anew.
(winter’s rule, a legend)Long ago, it is said Winter had come to rule over all the lands, swamp and desert and plains and tundra. It was against the Motherfather's will that she did this, but it is Winter's nature to want more than she is given. The time of Winter’s rule was a dark one. A great many suffered and died, from the cold or starvation. The kin were angry and fought to force her back onto her own lands. Many ancients are said to have met her in battle, but Winter could not be defeated. One, named Seed-and-Sapling, old and very wise, had a special orchard he tended to which suffered under Winter's rule. They once bore far and away the best fruits, succulent and juicy and delicately sweet. The ancient lavished each tree with care, carrying water, clearing brush and overseeing pollination every spring. But no longer. One by one his carefully cultivated fruit trees withered and died during the unending cold. He knew of Winter’s hunger, and knew she coveted the fruits of his orchard above all others. So he gathered what was left, the very last fruits the trees would ever give, and set out into the cold.
Seed-and-Sapling walked through the swamp, searching for Winter until his legs grew weary and he could walk no more. In the shelter of a snarl of mangrove roots he rested. Lacking any other provisions, he decided to eat one of the fruits. He bit into it, juice dripping onto the snow, staining it brilliant crimson.
Winter was watching him, he realized. She stood in the mud on the edge of a frozen pond, icicles hanging from her horns. Her white hide obscured her silhouette in the ice and snow, but her black eyes glinted and he knew she watched with greed.
“Give me one,” she said.
Seed took another bite and chewed a while before answering. A long silence passed. Finally he spoke. “I will trade you.”
“For what?”
“My trees have all died. These are the last. As long as you remain, there will be no more.”
Winter narrowed her eyes. “So what would you have me do?”
“Return to your lands.”
She snorted, pawing the icy mud. “If I leave, then I won’t get any fruit.”
“That is true...” He thought upon this. “Then I will make a deal with you.”
“What sort of deal?”
“I give you these fruits now, and you leave. You may return next year and I will give you more. But after I do, you must leave again until the next year.”
Winter considered, head to one side. “When will you give me the fruit? When must I leave?”
“I will give them to you the morning after the longest night.”
“Fine,” she said, too quickly.
Seed-and-Sapling merely nodded his head. He knew she would resist. “I will leave the fruit on a flat rock in a clearing to the north in three days’ time, as dawn breaks. Do not forget.”
Winter said nothing more, seeming to fade away into the snow. He looked around. Nothing. Only the hoofprints remained. Gathering his now precious fruit, he began the long trek back to his orchard, telling everyone he saw on the way of the plan and asking for their support. Word spread like wildfire to the ends of the swamp and beyond and the kin began to gather, hope warming them after the endless chill. Where a few brave ones fighting alone could not win, maybe all of them together could rout Winter.
After the longest night, just as dawn broke, Seed-and-Sapling, alone, brought the offering to the rock. Carefully he arranged the fruit, laying them out in an eye-catching, deliberate manner. Then he stood stock-still at the edge of the clearing and waited.
He did not have to wait long. Her black eyes betrayed her, seeming to float bodiless among the drifts of snow that had accumulated between the trees. They moved out from the snowbank, her body materializing behind them, until she stood in the open, the cold dawn light reflecting off her white hide.
Confidently, and without acknowledging Seed-and-Sapling in the slightest, she went straight to eating. She gorged herself on succulent fruit, careless of the stain of the juices and the watchfulness of the old buck. Finally she finished, nothing left of the offering but a few pits and scraps of peel. It was only then she met Seed’s eyes, and he saw there only defiance.
“Thanks for the fruit,” she said wickedly, licking juice from her lips, “but I think I’ll be staying for a long while yet.”
“We will see,” said Seed-and-Sapling. He then did something unexpected. He bellowed, his breath sending a cloud of fog into the air. Winter startled, stamping, her eyes growing wide.
Voices answered him from the trees to all sides. Everyone Seed knew, everyone who still had hope, had hidden themselves in the trees and waited, a line unbroken to the south. At his signal, they began their charge, yelling and stamping and leaping in a fury of horns and hooves.
At the sight of the veritable wall of kimeti, Winter’s confidence broke. She turned and took flight northward, the horde close on her heels, driven by fury and desperation and a wild wish for the long cold to end. They drove her north as far as they could, but Winter did not tire. However, onlookers had seen and heard the commotion, and when they realized what the goal was, they sprang to take the place of those that fell behind. When she tried to outflank them, more joined in to make the line even wider. Winter had nowhere to go but to the north. And so she did, hounded every step of the way, even to the very edge of the lands the kin knew.
And so, Winter was driven successfully back to her demesne for the first time. Every year after, she has tried to go back on the deal Seed-and-Sapling made with her. And each year the kin have joined together to remind her of her place, and to celebrate the coming of Spring and the end of Winter’s rule.
