Location: Adagio Creek
Everyone are welcome. No post order.
The creek was frozen, but still it appeared the very image of calm. This was the spot the Chief had chosen. He was the Gola Watsi before he had become the Chief, and still he was a medic in his heart. The elders had taught him some of the rituals, though not all. He knew, however, that the water could take many forms, as could wolves. He chose this spot because the calm creek was constant; it flowed underneath the ice, still calmly, never overflowing its boundaries, always keeping the same fish. Theodoric had been a calm presence in the pack; Dawali had met him only a few times, but his face had been one he had found comfort in. They had been two of a kind, perhaps; both quite a few years older than the rest, both interested in the art of weaving. Some of the male's blankets covered him where he lay in the bottom of the fragile, woven boat, instruments of his trade, as well as other gifts and foods, spread around his resting form. The boat was painted bright red; red for the courage needed to step into the afterlife. The male did not lack a single thing, and AniWaya would not forget a thing. The little pain the Chief endured from his broken leg to perform the last goodbyes was so trivial in comparison.
The russet Chief hummed a prayer as he carefully lifted the hardened leather pouch which held the single ember he had taken from the Great Fire. It guided them all through life, and one child of it would guide poor Theodoric to the next level of existence. It, too, seemed to be affected by the calm, and it continued to glow as if a firefly from the height of Theodoric's chest, where he had placed it. "Wakan Tankan Nici Un," he said, quietly. Spring would come and melt the ice, and for a short while the calm creek would become a fearsome rapid, and Theodoric would travel far from here to peace. His journey would be courageous, as were his last hours as he awaited the end of the storm that took his life spirit from him.
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