Riven's reflections on her childhood (#1)

“I grew up in Eknos and Aerisca. My parents told me I was born in a wagon while we were traveling for their work, but I do not remember that. I do remember the smell, standing outside the city, our whole family wondering aloud why anyone would live there. The seven of us needed more space, me especially. The noise of four little brothers was overwhelming. I spent as much time enjoying the peace provided by nature as I could, always hoping to catch sight of a white doe.
 
One of my favorite stories about Bira that my parents would tell and retell at my request was, ‘The Tale of Bira First Appearing As a White Doe and Stuff (That We Know Of).’
 
‘A girl in pursuit of her Palesian Cloak lost her way in a dark forest. Out of rations and hope, she heard a scrabbling nearby. Knowing it is not always wise to investigate suspicious noises in dark forests but desperate for any kind of improvement to her situation, she cautiously moved to investigate the sound. What luck! A doe trapped in a ravine! Her stomach rumbled particularly loudly; she nocked an arrow and prepared to acquire dinner.
 
Pausing in her draw, she remembered the sacred tenet of her people: no animal should be hunted to extinction. She was starving, but she had never seen such a beautiful creature. Knowing what little of the day’s light remained would soon be fading to the pitched blackness of night and there was only time to help the doe or forage for supplies, she resolved the help the doe. Using her knife, she sacrificed her training cloak to create a makeshift harness for the deer. Between the harness, a rope and a tree, and an unusually cooperative attitude for a wild creature, the deer was out in no time—though it was still a considerable undertaking even with everything going right.
 
Once the doe was safely out of the ravine, the girl collapsed in exhaustion. She closed her eyes just for a moment to consider her next steps. It was too dark to…--but it wasn’t too dark. Why wasn’t it too dark? The sun had fully set by now, but she realized that she had been able to see pretty well this entire time. She sat up and opened her eyes. To her surprise, not only had the deer not run away yet, but it appeared to be looking at her, considering her. And it seemed to be glowing. She and the doe shared a small bubble of light, seemingly protected from the darkness of the forest all around them.
 
The girl staggered to her feet and tentatively took a step towards the deer, expecting it to flee, but it stayed fast. In a flash of light that threatened to blind the girl, the doe disappeared and was replaced by a young woman with long, dark hair, clad all in green. Her hair was gathered into an unkempt bun; likely to keep it out of her way when she needed to use the bow and arrows she carried. There was no doubt in the girl’s mind that this was Bira, the Goddess of the Hunt. In awe, the girl fell to her knees. Bira smiled down at her, and placed her own hand over the girl’s eyes, closing them. She felt the warmth of Bira’s palm leave her face after a moment and opened her eyes.
 
The Goddess of the Hunt was gone, but the forest was no longer dark.’
 
I loved hearing this story, but I preferred my mother’s telling. Dad would change little details or add embellishments. He said that the story was not meant to be taken literally, that it was more about the “forest than the trees.” I never really understood that, but I loved the way Mom told it: the same way every time. She often told me I had been touched by Bira, just like the girl in the story, and being able to see in the dark proved it. Sometimes it seemed like she had more to say about that, but I wasn’t sure so I never asked.”