# 25 The Gathering Winds Down

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People were starting to pack, readying for their trips home. The trading was done, friendships renewed and even a few marriages decided on. There was plenty to talk on, but for most people, they were talking about Viola.

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From the carnage left at Blacky’s usual perch it was obvious there had been a struggle and Viola had not come out on top.  No one could tell exactly what had happened, but there were moist bits of eulachon mixed with some sort of black seed in clumps; some with bits of red hair attached.  Pecks of blood laced the area like a macabre fine fish net.  Viola had been found, foaming at the mouth, writhing in agony, clutching her stomach as if trying to hold in her guts, pieces of the tempting eulachon drying on her parched lips.  Perhaps she thought she had removed the foxglove from the pieces she ate, and then, had gone ahead with her usual abandon, eating the tempting eulachon that Blackie wouldn’t touch.  Fern and Bob had removed her to the healing hut in the morning. Blackie was long gone to wherever he went when not in Raven’s service. Fern had said there was little chance she’d pull through.

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Gossip was circulating like a growing breeze down the valley that Viola’d been up to no good, and that maybe it was for the best that it was ending this way.  It would save the Elders the time and trouble of holding court to sort the whole mess out.  What she’d done to deserve such self-induced punishment most folk didn’t know but the stories of her past were surfacing from some of the older folk whose memories were long and in no time at all it would all come out. 

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Raven didn’t look too concerned.  He leaned casually against a rock next to his ship in a relaxed posture, head held high, arms crossed, body at ease, his icy blue eyes taking in the scene around him without giving away any emotion he may have held within.  He seemed to be a man who needed no one, as long as he had their respect.  His wife, his children, all seemed to be mere apostrophes in the story of his life; milestones that had had their day and had slid quietly and insignificantly into his past.  His wife, Phlox, would be leaving for good this time with one of their sons’ family, causing not even a stutter in Ravens narrative.

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Mus and Perri seemed to be like newlyweds these days, Mus fawning over Perri treating his injuries and rashes as if he were a babe in arms was doing so as well as any healer, Fern had said.  The irony was not lost on most that without Mus’ initial actions, the rash would not have existed to begin with, but she and Perri had left that one on the back burner for now.  One thing at a time.  They had a whole marriage and family life to fix.  Better to leave the inconvenient truths out of the way for the time being.

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Shale had recovered from his injuries quickly, as only the young do, needing only a crutch to get around now.  Now that their daughter was born, he and Linnea were ready to head home, Shale, with his new little family and enough stories of his adventures to fill a winter’s worth of campfires.  They had decided to call their daughter Columbine, after the calm Elder who had seen them through the rough patches.

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Then we come back to Fern, the healer who played such a large part in the drama of this Gathering.  The formally confirmed bachelor Bob had asked her to marry him.  He, being single all these years, and her widowed just a few years back, the time seemed right.  When they looked at each other they didn’t see the ravages of time.  Bob saw Fern and felt at once immersed in the calm wisdom with which she took on each of life’s many snags. Fern gazed at Bob and sunk into those eyes so blue, they were the colour of a tidal pool on a sunny day with untold depths and mystery within. The hearty smile lines that lit up his whole face looked like a map to adventures yet unknown. They smiled at one another as if they’d never been apart; as if they were leaving that Gathering long, long ago together, looking forward to the rest of their lives.  Bob’d talked to Raven, and was still planning on fishing with him a few times in the summer months, but Fern and Bob had decided to live in both villages for a bit each year, spending most of the summer on the ocean, and wintering in the bog, away from the harsh winter winds.

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Bones and his family would wait with Viola until the end.  His sister and brother had come to say goodbye to their mother, who seemed confused by what was going on.  Viola appeared to have forgotten recent events and would call for Syn, her long dead husband from time to time.  They knew the end was near because she wouldn’t eat.  They’d never seen their mother in that state before.

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The old fellows; Pine, Oak, Sage, Humphrey and a few other Elders, spent their last night like most nights sipping mead in the Elders hut around a peat fire and making sense of all that had transpired, sure, that without their help, all would not have been solved.  They talked, argued, agreed, then disagreed about just about everything.  But, then again, if it had been easy to find the trappers, get them safely home, solve the problem of the missing foxglove and sort out Mus and Viola, then the sage-like wisdom they were sure they possessed in vast abundance would not be needed then, would it?