The Dwrgi-lûth had heard of the gathering of Ysbrydnos, and that folk of all the clans were welcome to attend, but word came after Trindân had become the clan's champion. Awel Brenin considered sending someone to represent the clan, but Trindân spoke against it. "The clan can never be strong if it does not stand alone," he would say, or something about as bone-headed and foolish. It was the same sort of nonsense that he used to explain, or excuse, his belligerence towards the Caru-lûth, as if trying to make enemies of the Dwrgi-lûth's biggest neighbors and most important allies was actually some sort of wisdom. Cerrynt was sure it was the sort of folly that would lead to the clan eventually falling. Strength comes not only from one's axe, but also from one's wisdom, and just as all members of a clan must stand with one another, the clans themselves must stand together.
The day after she came of age, Cerrynt was on her back in the shallows of the river, blood from her shattered nose joining the river's flow. The day after that, sitting in her corner, listening to her father's admonitions about her foolishness in attempting such a challenge, while trying to set her own broken nose, unsuccessfully. The day after that, trying to go to the clan witch for help with her healing, only to be laughed at and mocked by Trindân and those who thought of him as a mighty victor. And so it went for a week. Until she chanced to remember that Ysbrydnos was near.
At first as she climbed over the hills separating the river valley from the higher climbs of Trum Dreng, she hadn't even realized yet she meant to leave her tribe. She was only thinking of heading to Ysbrydnos, because someone should. She didn't think of taking much with her -- just a few pieces of oilcloth she could carry things in or use for a makeshift shelter, and the small bag of tools and supplies she'd bring when hunting, the bare basics. But by the time she neared the Hall of Sanctuary two days later, dragging a half a boar as well as a hastily-thrown-together mask made from its tusks, she had realized that she was not going back to her tribe.
At least, not until she knew she would triumph over Trindân. The turning of the year would be a time to seek the blessings of the spirits: their strength, to win in battle, and their cunning, which she would need to ensure the battle was fought, and fairly.
The gathering was smaller than she expected, intimate and personal. Encouraging, and eye-opening. She hadn't meant to tell anyone her story, but of course, her nose was still swollen and broken, her body bruised, and people inevitably asked. She hadn't intended to claim to represent her clan, but she fell to saying so, and had to correct herself. She hadn't thought to find a place to stay (or even thought about where she would go after the gathering), but was fed and made welcome to remain by the fire after the songs and stories had quieted. She hadn't expected to tell a tale of her own, but when the priest called for stories, and led with one to make her feet tingle and her heart race, she retold one of the tales of her tribe, striving to make it more blood-stirring than it had been. She hadn't imagined her burden, the half-boar still left from her earlier hunt, would be a welcome offering, but not only was she thanked for it, she had opportunity to learn better ways to cook and smoke it from the woman who helped with preparing it. She thought she might hear song, but could never have expected that the one woman most eager for her solitude would end up singing a song so full of longing and strength and hurt, echoing perfectly with the same things in her own heart (or so she, in her youth, imagined). And while she hoped to find the blessing of the spirits, she didn't imagine that, when a witch spoke to her of them, her words about the guile and courage of the Otter would make her feel that she already carried those blessings within her.
Above all, she certainly never expected she would end the night having pledged to join in a daring and dangerous raid against the hated forgoil, but as she drifted off to sleep by the fire, trying to hide how much ache still dwelled deep in her bones, she thought of the journey to come, to lands she'd never seen and enemies she'd never faced, excited, and sure these were the first strides in the race that would lead her back to reclaim her tribe's future, and her dignity in their eyes.
