Graceful gold, creamy white and russet wings arced above the head of the first and framed a small body before ending far below her small, booted feet. Fragile, small boned, the young woman could have passed for a child were it not for the shapely woman’s curves beneath the leather pants and vest she wore.
Long, light brown hair touched with russet highlights spilled along the side of her face and over her breasts in lush ringlets and Orrin knew when her eyes opened he’d see the fierce eagle hues of brown, green and a hint of black. Creamy flesh unmarred by her battles was now pale, the luster of life quickly dimming.
On the narrow stone next to her lay another young female Breed, this one having only just passed her twentieth year. This one Orrin ached for the most. The little Lion Breed female had known only a few years of freedom. She’d had no time to build dreams or the life Breeds had been promised.
As small and fragile as the winged Breed, the little Lion Breed female lay just as still and silent. There all resemblance ended, though. The Lion Breed female’s hair was short, framing a curiously inquisitive little face with a pert nose. Wide eyes were framed by a line of dark color as though nature had applied liner around the slightly tilted curve of her lashes.
She wasn’t dressed in leathers, but rather in the long white gown she’d been dressed in after being brought to the Breeds. There were no wounds on her body; the injuries had been internal but had healed. Her fragile spirit could no longer endure the life she was born into. Years of confinement and cruelty had worn her down. Her escape had given her only a few years to acclimate to freedom before she’d been forced to witness yet more atrocities in an attack against her and two other female Breeds.
The wound to her head was healing nicely, yet her spirit continued to seek escape. Life was bleeding from her with each shallow breath she took.
These spirits fought to escape while two others fought to linger. The awakening of Cat and Honor was completed, yet Claire and Liza had yet to walk the path to the afterlife. Orrin had been concerned by this until the winds had begun whispering the will of the land and the fate of two weary souls that would leave bodies strong enough to endure the ritual of placement.
Stepping back from the stone beds, his five fellow chiefs gazed at him silently.
“We are in agreement?” he asked them softly. “The winds have called us to this place prepared by the Unknown. In the breath of the land we heard the request to awaken and to prepare for death and to prepare for placement. The Unknown have been sent to bring to us the awakened. Should they seek life, these bodies will be theirs. Should they seek their rest, then the lands will show them the way.”
“So the winds have whispered to us,” the five agreed.
Orrin turned to the two Unknown who had brought the females to them. “To the Unknown have the lands called to take your brothers to the awakened and bring them to this place?”
“So the Unknown have been called,” they agreed.
“Then we prepare,” Orrin announced. “Tonight the awakened will be freed and placement shall begin.”
The rituals were ancient and ones only the chiefs and the Unknown knew the intricacies of. The rituals were far older than the Nation, and their mysteries originated, it was told, as long ago as time had begun in the stars themselves.
They were the People, given to the Earth for safekeeping, given guardianship of the secrets of the lands by the Great Spirit and the winds themselves. For as long as the Navajo had drawn breath, their bodies filled with the air given by the winds, those winds had whispered vast knowledge and the secrets of rituals unlike any others could imagine.
They were the Six Chiefs. Always, there had been six chiefs. Always, there had been twelve of the Unknown. And from the Unknown, the chiefs that would carry the next generation would be chosen by the winds. So it had begun and so it would continue.
But with each ritual of awakening, there was the passing. With each life given, one was taken. The spirits of these fragile young women could endure no more. The horrors of their lives, of the cruelties of man, had been far more than they could endure. Their losses had sapped their will to continue in this life they were given.
The prophecy had been whispered to him the night his granddaughter’s body had expired from its wounds and she had become the protector of the young Breed female known as Cat. The winds had whispered that with the awakening, death would come. He had known since Claire’s birth that her destiny was to be one of heartbreak and fear in her youth, but one of freedom and greatness once payment was made.