((Sorry I was MIA for about 2 days..and the tone this post might set too. Let me say that this post...reflects my mood at present...So I also apologize for the great length of this post, and perhaps sounding rather more GM then I should.))<br/><br/>Kiitani draws his breaths slowly, each shuddering in what could be mistaken for anger. He watches the touching exchange and the praise with eyes that no longer looked blue. In the firelight the golden flecks ate away the calming azure, leaving only haunted discontent and unrest. His stance suggests that what is in him is not he. Kiitani is Mystic this night, not of their world now. That human aspect, that beast aspect burn away in face of the spirits who wander. There is much power there, and no pity.<br/><br/>This is how the ruler of the Nation deals with the death...<br/><br/>Shoulders strait he starts for the fire, walking past dead Men. His golden eyes, eagles eyes, catching each body laying in his path. "Come, and do as I tell you to, to help him" he says simply to the wolves, his voice a howling whisper in the dead silence. He is beckoning them follow him, his wake giving a feeling of fallwinds, silent and flat. He cast about and drew to him a sack of healing herbs and poultices. The flax they use for many things, strung, broken and woven into rough bandages was collected. As the People of the Nation gathered around, pockets forming where men may lay, for fear of them. There is shame in the air, hung around them all. Shame and fear, near palpable, you could taste it on the tongue. The flavor is blood and sweat.<br/>Kiitani looks at his Nation, and his face changes, softer at the edges to Kiitani the Bird Woman, healer of the Broken Nation. Though her face is softer her words grind with the forever power of granite stone, wearing away mountains with it's force. Her words are no more than a whisper, but, for wind that lows sweet, and fire that bellows all could hear her. Her words were the words of those past who watched the Nation as it grew.<br/>"I have seen....Nation, I have seen today more destruction then even the Cataclysm caused." Even as she spoke she soaked rags in a pot she's set by the fire. Heated water, mixed in with herbs of different properties.<br/>"Here I have seen MEN. They were once like us. Once they were us..." She walked through the Nation to the nearest dead Man and wiped his painted face with the hot cloth. "What I see are the Lost. Though the Cataclysm took many lives from us, it also took spirits and broke them. Here are your spirits." Rising again she waved a cloak covered arm, looking like nothing more than a large feathered wing to the Man she tended to, and there lay what was once of the Nation. The pelt showed a cougar, his tattooed black eye trails further testament to what he once had been. The pelt was not in condition, it was tattered, and tied around his waist as though it were nothing more than a cover.<br/><br/>"Mourn not the dead Great Nation. They have lived life, and will come again. They will watch us and protect us. In our hurt they will aid." She returns to standing before the fire as she speaks, and gathers another cloth soaked in the herb water. She applies this to Draekin's side and taking Raissa's hands in hers she has the female press down around the wound with this cloth. Still she speaks, as she gathers more things. For a moment she does pause, those eyes, normally so warm, but hard, sure but not contemptible flicker around. They are golden, cold, and vast. What would be perceived as empty was truly excess, her eyes were full of things only death and it's wards could begin to understand. The Wolves tonight would know.<br/>"Our Wolves, our Cougars, our Bison, our Bears, Our Nation, who have stood and protected us against the Men have done us well tonight. They have stood strong in the face of what was unknown, and some have left us now, to run through the trees without fear of hurt or hunger. They thirst for greater meaning now than what we have here. They will find it. Those who are left, all of you-" again, those golden eyes dance between the shadows of the People "-are wounded." She kneels now beside Draekin and looks to Raissa with those golden eyes. She would see love, and pity and strength there, admiration for her and her mate. Her voice softens as she speaks directly to Raissa and Draekin "This will hurt a great deal, and I will need you to be still Draekin much as it might hurt. Raissa, I need you to press a new cloth down to his wound, the moment I pull that free. Blood will rush, press it firm and do not lift it until I tell you to."<br/><br/>She wraps a strip of leather around her palms and grits her teeth, a feral angry smile. She takes the last of the shaft in her hands, as it pokes through the cloth wrapped around it, seeped with blood and scenting similar to a fresh crushed herb garden medley. Feeling it for a moment her grit-toothed grimace turns to a snarl. Muscles bunching in her arms she tears the spearhead free. She hopes that Raissa will do as she asks without questioning her.<br/><br/>Rising now, still grasping the short length of spear in one blood slicked hand she faces the Nation again. "These Men are not of the Nation any longer. They cannot return. They are MAN. Their spirits are fading, and will be gone." She holds up the broken spear in the waning fire glow, the sky dusting pink as the sun is coming. This whole terror has lasted the night. "They hunt to kill and satisfy darkness. We do not kill. Our Nation is Strong, and we have lived our lives in protection and safety. With this spear, that has pierced Draekin's hide, you are pierced. I am run through and Raissa is torn. These Men will kill us, the spirits speak out. They resent their past because they can never return. Nation, you are wounded." She draws the blood dripping spear head across her own tight flesh of her upper arm. Marking it three times on her right arm and twice on her left. One for each of the dead Nation she saw on her walk back here to the fire. "Nation, it is time for small change, this I see. We will not simply run away, we are not beasts. We are Nation. We will stand our ground when these Men return. We will fight back."<br/><br/>She returns to ministering the wound Draekin has, thankfully she can feel it has not pierced vital organs, but it has nicked them. She probes a numbing salve lightly into the top of the wound, lays a heavier salve atop it in a thick layer, then lays deep green, long rounded leaves across it, and binds the whole of it in strips around his stomach. Her words scare the Nation and they mostly sit in silence, unsure what to do. She stands and waves her hand slowly once from left to right. "You may go, bury the dead as to custom. These men...lay them to rest elsewhere." The Nation, numb with confusion goes as it should now, those who bury the dead will come now to do as they needed. She has not forgotten about the man captured, but there is time to deal with him.<br/><br/>These men will not return for a a week, maybe even two. They must go lick their wounds, and learn from their mistakes. Wolves are strong, and dangerous and run in groups. Cougar come from behind. Bison and large antelope will charge forward with sharp horns. These beasts of the Nation are dangerous to Men armed with a spear a piece.