Excerpt:

So! In those earliest of times
The forefolk of the Firstings, wisest wizards,
Were raised out of nothing, slumberers roused
By the bright hands that brought forth life,
By the gods, all-knowers and all-callers.
Ajun, wise-weaver had woven them, three days and nights
Three days with the warp and weft
Three nights with her silken strands
Until her strange task was sewn up
And hung empty by her hearth – but what to fill it with?
Then she, wildwood-walker, danced through her domain,
Cedar she saw, and took its red, rough bark
Then she, water-woman, splashed through the seas
Salt-sea she sought, and caught its waters,
Then she, mountain-maker, climbed the hills
Stone she found, and bore the firm thing home
Returned to fill her creation, finest basket.
What had she made? Two forms together, tightly woven
Bound back to back, each facing out
The shapes of the first people.
Then Vyilma the thunderer, rain maker, strode into the house
Saw her art with his sky-eyes, blue eye and grey,
Wishing to work with her, to join his craft to hers.
He sits down at her loom, the wily wind-worker,
And quickly clatters out a cloud
Not as soft as the mist she weaves,
Not as fine as the swift-shredding fog,
Which she gave him when first they wed,
But sure and suited to the task.
When he is done he shrouds her work within
Silver-fingered lord of rain, he wraps them well
Those first folk who still sleep like clay
And lays them down before the hearth.
With whispering words he blesses them with water
Aiding Ajun in her art, bringing their works together.
Then she laughs for joy, and embraces her lover
Happy tears upon her cheek, silver droplets from her heart
That rain of the sea-lady which first entranced him.
An idea takes him, and he brings down his lanterns
Sun and moon, world’s best lights,
Wedding delight for his beloved lady
And presses them upon the basket-brows
Sun on man-shape, moon on woman,
And wipes the joy-tears from Ajun’s cheek
Blessing woven brows, baptising life.
Then the first Firstings, man and woman,
Stepped apart and sang a song
A lay of living, a chant of creation
And made their own world to dwell in.

The sun rode down the sky, reddening as its light travelled through the tree-haze above the mountains. Rowan watched it sink, feeling the coolness that came as the light faded. Autumn had come late, allowing everyone to enjoy those last days of sunshine before the rains really began. Rowan wasn’t looking forward to the damp of winter, but the larders were well-stocked and her brother had given her a new winter coat, so she reasoned that it wouldn’t be too gloomy.
When final red-gold sliver of the sun winked out behind the western range and Rowan turned, bounding free-limbed into the dusky glen beneath her. She was in no particular hurry. Striking out along a path that was little more than a deer track, she moved with complete confidence through the deepening gloom under the trees. It was her place, after all – it had even acquired a name after her: Rowansden.
Daughter of the heads of the farmstead and heir to one of the wealthiest lineages of the mountain clans, Rowan was tall and strong from living all her young life in the high country. Red-haired and clothed in a rough tunic and trousers, she the only thing that appeared strange or different about her was in her almond-shaped eyes, which she’d inherited from her grandmother. These were not unique in their shape, but in their colour: a vibrant, shocking green that could not be found in any other person in her entire extended family. Rowan Greeneyes had become her name within the clan, and though some grumbled that such a vivid colour was unnatural and only ill could come of it, no harm had come save a slight inflation of Rowan’s vanity.
Emerging out of the woods, Rowan stepped out into the clearing of the Helmslingcroft, her family’s homestead of long generations. All around the edges of the clearing were towering wooden poles, intricately carved and upright in the ground, facing the encircling woods. Some were erected to honour powerful ancestors, others to commemorate great events, but all stood as guardians against the many malicious spirits that roamed the earth, painted eyes glaring fiercely out into the night.